Back when Matthew and I first got engaged, we thought we had it all planned out. I was in my last semester of college (student teaching) and he had two semesters until he graduated with his B.S. in Political Science. I was going to graduate, look for a job, substitute for a semester if I couldn't find one and he was going to apply to law school. From his GPA and L-SAT scores and all that, it looked like if we wanted to avoid paying for private law school tuition, we would be moving to Memphis. The thought of living in Memphis and starting my first teaching job in Memphis was a little scary to me, since I knew someone who went to college there and managed to have two cars stolen in the four years she was there. BUT, we were young and in love and the possibilities seemed endless. Matthew's long-term goal was a career in politics and to become the President of the United States (as many of you from college probably remember him very seriously telling everyone he met).
Well, somewhere during my semester of student teaching, Matthew began to have second-thoughts about law school and a career in law. He discussed these with me, and being the flexible person that I am I did not stress at all. Ok, just kidding, I'm a girl who has to have a plan, like all the time. If the original plan doesn't work out, I immediately sit down and think out what the new plan is. I am completely not a spontaneous person, at all. So, this change of plans threw me for a loop. And what he had decided he did want his career to be in threw me for an even bigger loop- education. I just did not see him as a teacher. I worried the income would not be enough for him. I worried it would not be a glamorous enough job for him. I didn't think he would like "working in the trenches", so to say. I didn't even really think he liked kids all that much, LOL. I did exactly what everyone had done to me when I declared in high school that I wanted to be a teacher (including my former teachers). I told him all of the bad parts of the career, all the reasons I didn't think he would like it, and basically told him I thought he was destined for greater things. But, he was adamant. And after a week or two, I began to come around. At least, teaching was familiar to me. We wouldn't have to go to Memphis and struggle while he completed four years of law school. I decided this would be ok.
And of course, I sat down and drew up a new plan for us. This one had to have several options because we had no idea where I might get a job and that was important. So, I applied for jobs from Cookeville to Bristol and everywhere in between. Matthew got information and applied to grad school at ETSU, UT, and Tennessee Tech. He took the necessary exams for all of those schools (so, Matthew has officially at one time in his life or another taken every exam required for grad school except the M-CAT). And we waited.... and waited... and waited. The waiting was so hard for me. We had no idea where we would be living, how we would support ourselves if I didn't get a job, where Matthew would go to school. When and if I got a job, I had a plan for each scenario to put into place, but the job thing was taking a long time to figure out. We got married in July and left for our honeymoon with still no idea about what we would be doing when we returned. On the way home from the airport after our honeymoon, in the middle of July, my mother-in-law told us that Bristol City Schools had called her while we were gone and I had a job if I wanted it. Did I want it? OF COURSE! I pulled Plan B (for Bristol) out of the file and we put it into action. Matthew began school at ETSU and even got a graduate assistantship and I started my first teaching job, teaching kindergarten at Fairmount Elementary. We rented a house in Johnson City and then later bought a condo in Bristol and settled into life. I drew up a long-term plan which involved me teaching at Fairmount, Matthew graduating and getting a job with BTCS as well (most likely at Vance Middle), us buying a house, starting a family, little kiddos would go to BTCS and we'd live happily ever after.
Then, Matthew graduated, he applied for jobs. He had his interview with BTCS (the place he had grown up, where his parents know people) and he got a letter saying that he was not going to be considered for a job. We were absolutely devastated and to this day we still don't understand what happened (but I have a suspicion that a higher power had a hand in it). BTCS is a very competitive school system (and well-paid), but Matthew was an AWESOME candidate, he felt his interview had gone well and he knew people. Apparently, God had another plan for us. Matthew wanted to leave the area. Without really even fully discussing it with me, he began to look for jobs back toward the Knoxville area. Before I knew it, he had applied, interviewed, and been hired to teach at FLMS in Loudon. Again, I let all of this roll right off my back in my usual manner (um, NOT). I had a job here. One that I really liked. It was a large paycut for me to move back to that area (like $7,000) and that was assuming that I got a job at all. I liked the tri-city area. I had friends here, a church that I loved, I liked being close to ETSU, I had become involved with my sorority as an advisor, I had joined a gym that I loved, I had a life here. I had a plan. At the same time, my parents had decided to build a new house. They offered us the option to buy their house at a good price. Matthew was thrilled with the idea. I, of course, was not as thrilled at first. I worried that if we moved there I would feel trapped and feel like we could not leave if we ever wanted to. I wasn't sure I was ready to move back home. But, like it or not, a new plan was being drawn up for me and digging my feet in was not going to stop the wheels that had started rolling on this one. Within a week of Matthew's job offer, he had also found me a job. He talked to his soon to be new principal and she talked to the principal of the elementary school next door and I was hired to teach second grade before I had even turned in my resignation to BTCS. Before I really had time to wipe the tears away after saying goodbye to my friends in Bristol, we were moved, living in the upstairs two bedrooms with our two German Shepards of my parents' house and working at new schools.
At first the adjustment was difficult, and I will say that even now, nearly six years later, there are aspects of our life that don't seem settled yet.. like the total absence of friends in our town that we socialize with or a church home that completely fits and that we are as active in as I'd like to be. But, as we've adjusted, we have found wonderful friends even if we have to drive a ways to see them and we have come to appreciate being very close to family. And time and again, different situations have shown us that we are right where we should be. For example, I wouldn't trade being able to see my grandmother on a near daily basis and having her know and develop a relationship with my son during the last years I had with her for anything. And time and time again, God has shown me either gently or not so gently that all of the plans I create mean nothing.... His plan is the only one that matters and His promises will be fulfilled for me in His time, not mine. And time and time again, I've discovered that when I accept His plan (whether willingly or begrudgingly) the blessings that follow are a hundred times greater than what I had imagined in my plan.
As you can probably tell, I don't like change. And times of great change are extremely stressful to me. I like to believe I am in control and when something happens that proves to me that I am not (and never really was), I don't handle it well. Trusting God during these times is something I struggle with, it might be my biggest obstacle in my faith. But, I am trying to do better. I found my "life verse" when I graduated high school. As you can imagine, high school graduation was a time of great turmoil in my life as well. I loved high school, loved my friends, loved my boyfriend (ha!), loved my family, my house, my dog, my town, my church (sound familiar?). I didn't want any of it to change. I bawled and cried all through graduation, it was like a funeral. My cousin, Lore and her family, gave me a coffee cup for graduation. I'm sure she felt like it was a nice graduation gift, but I doubt she had any idea what meaning it would take on in my life. The coffee cup was nice enough, royal blue (like my high school colors) with a gold graduation cap and with this verse on it:
For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:10
And it clicked. When I tearfully packed up my room to go to ETSU, I packed that cup. I kept that cup all through college and went back to the verse in times of uncertainty, heartache, or fear. I kept the cup after graduation in my old bedroom at my mom's house as I did an interim teaching assignment in the class from Hades and planned my wedding without knowing what would come next. I kept that cup in my classroom of my first teaching job as I struggled and wondered why on Earth I had ever decided to become a teacher. I moved that cup with me to my new classroom as I mourned the life I had left behind in Bristol. I looked at that cup month after month with a negative pregnancy test sitting in my garbage can. I stared at that cup on my desk when I returned to school for the first time after having Evan with my insides churning about leaving my sweet baby at daycare. I looked upon that cup with tear-filled eyes on my first morning back at school after I lost my baby and I stared at it (even though I couldn't see it) as I struggled to stop the tears during the Pledge of Allegiance and morning announcements, knowing that I had to get it under control and teach these kids. I looked at that cup with happiness, hope, and even fear each time I got pregnant. And I looked at that cup, desperate for hope, as the losses kept coming. I looked at that cup to calm my panic and fear when I found out I was carrying Chloe and with each week that passed, I looked at that cup with a greater sense of peace and gratitude. And when I packed up my room to prepare to take a year off, I left most stuff behind waiting on me, but not that cup. I brought it home and put it on my desk at home. And I looked upon that cup with joy when I brought Chloe home from the hospital and I thanked God for His plans for me and the fulfillment of His promise. Later, I looked at that cup with tears in my eyes again as I wondered how best to comfort a friend going through exactly the same thing I had been through, and I copied that verse into a card. And although, I wish it were not so, I know that there will be other times in my life that I will look upon that cup for hope and comfort and I know that He will provide it because "God can be trusted to keep His promises." Hebrews 10:23
So, what does any of this have to do with the title of this post? you ask me (don't you love how I just ramble on and on before ever coming to a point).... When we moved down here, Matthew decided to go back to school to get his Ed.S. degree in instructional leadership. Our school system was planning to build several new schools (which have still not been built) and he felt the opportunity for an administration job might come available and he wanted to be ready. I teased him about how he was going to be a student forever and he teased me that he would eventually get his Ph.D. and then I would have to call him Dr. T. I promised him I would never call him that. So, now that I am almost finished with my Masters degree, I have been looking at my options for the next step in my education. I wanted to see what the options were for PhD programs versus Ed.S degrees. So, I mentioned this to him. Immediately he said, "When you find out about that, I want to know what you find out!"
I said, "Why?... Are you thinking about working on your PhD?"
And he said, "I don't know..."
I said, "You're just afraid you'll have to call me doctor!"
And he burst out laughing! Neither of us are looking at working on our PhD right now, we've decided, but maybe someday.... The Drs. T___ does have a nice ring to it. Who knows what plan He has in store for me?
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
A Great Kid (and a Humble One, Too)
Evan has been doing better... Saturday and Sunday were better with only minor incidents here and there and no hour long tantrums. In fact, Candy Land was a reward for his good behavior although he did throw a small fit and have to wait until after his naptime to actually get to play it.
But Monday.... Monday was a GREAT day! A PERFECT day. The kind of day all parents of 3 year olds dream of. In fact, I actually began to be concerned at one part of the day and wonder if perhaps my three year old in fact had multiple personality disorder or at the very least bipolar disorder. I thought about googling it, or searching Amazon for a book about it, but decided to just appreciate the day instead.
Evan did not throw a single fit ALL. DAY. LONG. He barely even whined at all. He shared with his sister. He cuddled with his mommy. He entertained himself. He played with his toys in a non-violent way. He ate his meals at the table without incidence. He went for his nap without incidence. I even caught him picking up his toys in the family room, not once, but twice without even being asked! When we went up for his nap, I had to put Chloe down first. I noticed him putting toys in his toybox and picking up his shoes in his room from across the hall. When I emerged from her room, he was so excited he was beside himself. He had picked up his room! His shoes were lined up neatly in the closet, all toys stowed in the toybox, and he had EVEN straightened up the covers on his bed. I couldn't believe my eyes! He was SO proud and excited he exclaimed, "I REALLY AM a big boy!". I assured him that oh he sure was and boy was Mommy proud of him.
I had of course, lavished praise on him all day long and when Daddy came home I bragged and bragged on him to him as well. We made a huge deal about his wonderful day. We told him he could have anything he wanted for dinner. He chose Chef Boy Ardee spaghetti and meatballs and corn on the cob. And Daddy told him that they could have movie night after dinner tonight and watch Meet the Robinsons which was on On Demand. Evan had been playing with his spring horse all day and when I was making dinner, he kept running into the kitchen and telling me that he read in his book that you should never give a horse a glass of water or that you should always give a horse an apple everyday, etc. Later, he asked his daddy to read in the book to find out what to feed his horse. I looked in the playroom and sure enough, he was flipping through a book about farm animals. I told him he was such a smart boy. He asked me why and I told him because when he didn't know something he looked it up in a book and that is what smart people do. A few minutes later he came in the kitchen and said, "Mommy, that book had lots of birds and I counted them all." I said, "That's great, honey." He said, "I know, I'm such a great kid, you don't have to tell me."
But Monday.... Monday was a GREAT day! A PERFECT day. The kind of day all parents of 3 year olds dream of. In fact, I actually began to be concerned at one part of the day and wonder if perhaps my three year old in fact had multiple personality disorder or at the very least bipolar disorder. I thought about googling it, or searching Amazon for a book about it, but decided to just appreciate the day instead.
Evan did not throw a single fit ALL. DAY. LONG. He barely even whined at all. He shared with his sister. He cuddled with his mommy. He entertained himself. He played with his toys in a non-violent way. He ate his meals at the table without incidence. He went for his nap without incidence. I even caught him picking up his toys in the family room, not once, but twice without even being asked! When we went up for his nap, I had to put Chloe down first. I noticed him putting toys in his toybox and picking up his shoes in his room from across the hall. When I emerged from her room, he was so excited he was beside himself. He had picked up his room! His shoes were lined up neatly in the closet, all toys stowed in the toybox, and he had EVEN straightened up the covers on his bed. I couldn't believe my eyes! He was SO proud and excited he exclaimed, "I REALLY AM a big boy!". I assured him that oh he sure was and boy was Mommy proud of him.
I had of course, lavished praise on him all day long and when Daddy came home I bragged and bragged on him to him as well. We made a huge deal about his wonderful day. We told him he could have anything he wanted for dinner. He chose Chef Boy Ardee spaghetti and meatballs and corn on the cob. And Daddy told him that they could have movie night after dinner tonight and watch Meet the Robinsons which was on On Demand. Evan had been playing with his spring horse all day and when I was making dinner, he kept running into the kitchen and telling me that he read in his book that you should never give a horse a glass of water or that you should always give a horse an apple everyday, etc. Later, he asked his daddy to read in the book to find out what to feed his horse. I looked in the playroom and sure enough, he was flipping through a book about farm animals. I told him he was such a smart boy. He asked me why and I told him because when he didn't know something he looked it up in a book and that is what smart people do. A few minutes later he came in the kitchen and said, "Mommy, that book had lots of birds and I counted them all." I said, "That's great, honey." He said, "I know, I'm such a great kid, you don't have to tell me."
Praying for Hannah
I should have linked Hannah's caring bridge page before now, but I didn't feel like I really personally knew her family like I did Savannah's so I wasn't sure. I've been praying for Hannah since she was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor last year. I learned about her because she is a student at the elementary school which is right beside our middle school and one of our teaching assistants is very close friends with her family. Since then, I've seen her on the news repeatedly. If you live in the area, you've probably seen her on Live at Five as well. She is amazing! She is only 8 years old, but when diagnosed with a brain tumor, she did not take time to feel sorry for herself. She immediately began to think about what she could do to help others. She began a campaign to help troops in Iraq and has been involved in lots of different charity and fundraising events to raise awareness and money for cancer. She is doing well right now besides a serious side effect from her radiation, but she continues to strive to help others. In one interview, her mother said that Hannah said she was glad she got cancer because it allowed her to meet all the different people she had met and to do the things to help others that she has done. Talk about making lemonade out of lemons. It is so obvious God has a plan for Hannah. What an inspiration!
The reason I am posting now, is that I recently found out through facebook of all things that I actually do know some of Hannah's family and I bet several of you do as well. She is the granddaughter of Mr. and Mrs. Schuman, both of who are (were? not sure if they are retired) teachers in the school system I grew up in. Mrs. Schuman was my PE teacher in elementary school and Mr. Schuman was my math teacher in middle school (long live Star Trek). Some of you will know Hannah's mother, Tracey, and some will know her aunt, Katie. Anyway, they too, are wonderful people so I now see where Hannah gets some of it. Please visit her site and see the wonderful things she has done and is continuing to do and support her with her prayer.
The reason I am posting now, is that I recently found out through facebook of all things that I actually do know some of Hannah's family and I bet several of you do as well. She is the granddaughter of Mr. and Mrs. Schuman, both of who are (were? not sure if they are retired) teachers in the school system I grew up in. Mrs. Schuman was my PE teacher in elementary school and Mr. Schuman was my math teacher in middle school (long live Star Trek). Some of you will know Hannah's mother, Tracey, and some will know her aunt, Katie. Anyway, they too, are wonderful people so I now see where Hannah gets some of it. Please visit her site and see the wonderful things she has done and is continuing to do and support her with her prayer.
Monday, February 23, 2009
The Top Moment
This is the sequel to the Big Reveal and Other Top Moments post since it wouldn't let me upload my videos for some reason. Be sure to scroll on down and check it out as well.
Ok, there were two more top moments from last week...
First, Moving Right Along....
Ok, there were two more top moments from last week...
First, Moving Right Along....
That's right! Chloe is officially crawling (forward), albeit, not very quickly, as of last week.
And this is last week's TOP MOMENT (be sure to pause the music player at the bottom of the blog page and turn your speakers up to hear this proud mommy moment)
The Big Reveal and Other Top Moments
We are finally finished with the indoor portion of our remodel, except for some caulking and painting of trim by Matthew. Lance is working on the windows this week, but here is the finished product!
And now for the before and after shots of everything put back together:
The Living Room Before:
And After:
The foyer before:
And after:
The hall bath, first part, before:
And after:
And the laundry room after:
The "laundry closet" before:
And the pantry after:
I have to say that I was most excited about the hardwood floors when we started and although I do love them, think they are beautiful, and make the house look 10 times better.... I'm totally psyched about the laundry room and all of the room in that pantry!
The hardwood floors:
And now for the before and after shots of everything put back together:
The Living Room Before:
And After:The foyer before:
And after:The hall bath, first part, before:And after:The hall bath, second part before:
The "laundry closet" before:And the pantry after:I have to say that I was most excited about the hardwood floors when we started and although I do love them, think they are beautiful, and make the house look 10 times better.... I'm totally psyched about the laundry room and all of the room in that pantry!Other Top Moments This Week:
A little friendly game of Candy Land with my son. The first game went ok. I almost won, which would not have been pretty, but luckily I drew the blue gumdrop card right before I reached the Candy Castle. But during the second game someone was, a-hem, cheating a little and didn't like it when Mommy tried to make him follow the rules. 
Playing with my happy girl in the playroom. She has discovered "Little People" and although she doesn't know how to correctly play with them yet, they are just the right size for her little hands (and mouth). She loves them!
Evan and Matthew getting out the ski gear. Matthew went skiing on Thursday with a buddy from school. I haven't been skiing in over 5 years! I think a trip is in order next year. I also think Evan might be ready to try. It is exciting to think of all the fun things we will be able to do as a family very soon as the kids get older.
My budding artist, or maybe my future mad scientist... hard to tell.
We got Evan's old dinosaur out this week for Chloe. Evan had a great time teaching her how to play with it and she thinks it is pretty cool, especially since big brother played with it with her.
GRRR!!! I have two video clips ready to download, but I've been trying (off and on) all day and it won't let me upload them. Figures! I'm going to go ahead and post this and then I'll try to upload them into a new post.
Stay tuned for the week's TOP MOMENT!
Friday, February 20, 2009
Photoshop Creations
I mentioned before that I've been trying to learn a little about using photoshop. Actually, what I have is Photoshop Elements because real Photoshop is just CRAZY expensive. PSE was expensive enough. Especially because, honestly, it comes with NO instructions. How ridiculous is that? Apparently people have actually written, published, and sold books called Photoshop Elements, The Missing Instruction Manual. Honestly, it is not a "common sense"program I just don't see why there are no instructions. Luckily, I've found a plethora of tutorials on the Internet. But, what I've found lately that has been just wonderful are these wonderful little things called "actions". Basically you download them, save them in your photoshop program files and then you can run them on your computer and they do remarkable things to your photos in mere seconds. Here are some I played around with tonight.
With the action
SOOC
With action
And with the action
This one is using an action called Barista. You could do lots of different options with this one: color pop, muted color, black/white, or selective color. I did muted color on the majority of the photo, but popped the Gator.SOOC
with the action
This one is using the same action, but I did Muted Color on the whole thing with a darker burn and also added a vignette (a separate action which darkens the edges of the photo).SOOC
With the action
This one is using an action called Coffee Bar. There are BUNCH of different options with this one, basically various coffee toned color casts, but for this one I did "Green Tea", softened it, and added a vignette again.
With action (obviously)
I have quite a few more I can play around with when I have time. Using these actions has actually helped me learn a bit about how Photoshop works in general using layers and such and I'm beginning to understand the lingo a little bit more. Now, the key would be to also learn how to take perfect and wonderful photos right out of the camera so that the color and lighting and exposure and everything are perfect and I won't have to edit much. I'm a long way from that still though. As you can tell, most of these were overexposed. Bright sunlight is not the best light for pictures anyway, or so they say. But with kids you kind of have to snap in whatever light the action is occurring in, I don't think it would have been the same if I'd said, "Hold that pose until the late afternoon light hits!".
This one is using an action called "Perfect Portrait". There is a lot you can adjust with this action and it is kind of involved, so I still don't think I've reached the full potential of this particular action. A lot of the adjustments involve "painting" over parts with a low opacity soft round white brush and things like that and it took me two days to figure out where a brush was and how to use it! But I still like the effects.
Straight out of the camera (SOOC)
And with Perfect Portrait
These photos are from last weekend when Evan took Chloe for her first Gator ride.
The first few are using an action called Vivid or Color Pop and I can't remember which was which, but they basically do the same thing as you can probably tell.
SOOCWith the action SOOCWith action This one is using an action called Honey Retro. I thought it was kind of a cool effect.
SOOC And with the actionThis one is using an action called Barista. You could do lots of different options with this one: color pop, muted color, black/white, or selective color. I did muted color on the majority of the photo, but popped the Gator.SOOCwith the action
This one is using the same action, but I did Muted Color on the whole thing with a darker burn and also added a vignette (a separate action which darkens the edges of the photo).SOOCWith the action This one is using an action called Coffee Bar. There are BUNCH of different options with this one, basically various coffee toned color casts, but for this one I did "Green Tea", softened it, and added a vignette again.SOOC
With action (obviously)I have quite a few more I can play around with when I have time. Using these actions has actually helped me learn a bit about how Photoshop works in general using layers and such and I'm beginning to understand the lingo a little bit more. Now, the key would be to also learn how to take perfect and wonderful photos right out of the camera so that the color and lighting and exposure and everything are perfect and I won't have to edit much. I'm a long way from that still though. As you can tell, most of these were overexposed. Bright sunlight is not the best light for pictures anyway, or so they say. But with kids you kind of have to snap in whatever light the action is occurring in, I don't think it would have been the same if I'd said, "Hold that pose until the late afternoon light hits!".By the way, all of these actions were FREE downloads from this blog.
Place Your Bets!
Ok, the pool is officially closed, bets are on the table, or whatever... I've never gambled, ok? Here are the results:
It was a quiet night at our house last night, and I don't mean because the kids were quiet ;).
By the way, as of 11:30 this morning it will also be quiet today at our house and I am going to use naptime (which is already underway an hour early) to search for some books on disciplining three year olds. Any suggestions?
And by the way, again, it was certainly not quiet at our house this morning between 10:30 and 11:30 when Evan screamed and yelled and cried and tantrummed (can that be a verb?) for an entire hour, which terrified Chloe and caused her to scream, too. Or when Evan decided to physically fight me about going to his room which then endangered the crying Chloe who then had to be placed safely in her crib until I could wrangle Evan into his room and convince him to stay there (you might picture a scene from The Crocodile Hunter, God rest his soul). But since there is a fine line between entertaining and horrifying, I don't think I'll go into detail. But if you want details, just ask Lance, our contractor, who was lucky enough to hear every last one (including me getting head-butted in the nose) over the baby monitor. What a glorious day!
It was a quiet night at our house last night, and I don't mean because the kids were quiet ;).
By the way, as of 11:30 this morning it will also be quiet today at our house and I am going to use naptime (which is already underway an hour early) to search for some books on disciplining three year olds. Any suggestions?
And by the way, again, it was certainly not quiet at our house this morning between 10:30 and 11:30 when Evan screamed and yelled and cried and tantrummed (can that be a verb?) for an entire hour, which terrified Chloe and caused her to scream, too. Or when Evan decided to physically fight me about going to his room which then endangered the crying Chloe who then had to be placed safely in her crib until I could wrangle Evan into his room and convince him to stay there (you might picture a scene from The Crocodile Hunter, God rest his soul). But since there is a fine line between entertaining and horrifying, I don't think I'll go into detail. But if you want details, just ask Lance, our contractor, who was lucky enough to hear every last one (including me getting head-butted in the nose) over the baby monitor. What a glorious day!
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Capital Punishment and a Little Gambling
Evan has been naughty (as Super Nanny would say) lately. Like, a lot. I don't know what is up with him. He seemed to be coming around a few months ago, but now he is even worse than before, sigh. The last two days at my mom's he has thrown humongous tantrums. Screaming, yelling, fits. He has also made comments such as "I don't care what ya'll want me to do, I'm not doing it." So, we sat down and had a talk with him last night. We told him that if he did not start acting better at Grandmother's and Granddaddy's they might not keep him anymore and he would have to go somewhere else during the day that would not be fun. We also told him that if he threw a fit today he would not get to play any computer games or watch any tv when he got home. So, after that conversation, we wanted to make sure he understood:
Matthew: Evan, do you understand what we are saying?
Evan: Nods
Matthew: So, if you throw a fit tomorrow, what will happen to you?
Evan: (Very serious with big eyes) I won't get to live anymore.
Mommy: Chokes back laughter and runs into the kitchen before he can see me smile.
Daddy, of course, explains it all again and Evan then repeats what the real punishment will be.
We hope the threat works because a night with no computer games or tv will be rough (on us, LOL). But, we are not holding out much hope especially after what happened in the bath last night:
After playing happily for about 30 minutes.
Mommy: Time to wash up and get ready to get out.
Evan: No, I don't want to get clean, I want to play.
Mommy: (reaches for the soap)
Evan: (smacks it out of my hand)
Mommy: (firmly) I said, it is time to wash up. (starts trying to find the soap in the water)
Evan: (grabbing my hand, trying to prevent me from finding the soap) I said, I'm playing. (Now begins kicking at my hand)
Mommy: If you do not obey, all toys are coming out of the tub and you will not get to play tomorrow.
Evan: I'm not going to obey.
Mommy: (begins scooping toys out)
Evan: begins screaming and thrashing and kicking and splashing and grabbing my hand
Daddy: (arrives on the scene) What is going on?
Mommy: Evan won't stop playing and let me wash him up, so toys are coming out of the tub. I've got it under control. (famous last words)
Evan: more loud screaming, wailing, thrashing, etc. (begins grabbing toys and attempting to sit on them)
Mommy: If you do not stop screaming, no bedtime stories... 1...2....
Evan: (abruptly stops)
Mommy: (resumes toy removal)
Evan: (resumes wailing)
Mommy: That's 3, no bedtime stories tonight.
Evan: (increases wailing)
Mommy: If you do not stop screaming, I will not be laying down with you tonight... 1....2....
Evan: (abruptly stops)
Mommy: (resumes toy removal)
Evan: (resumes wailing at increased volume)
Mommy: That's 3, Evan.
Evan: (increases volume again)
Mommy: (finally gets all toys out of the tub including the ones I had to pry from his hands and tries to now wash Evan)
Evan: (kicking, splashing, sliding all around the tub and of course more screaming)
Mommy: (Gives up, puts washcloth in the tub, and starts to get Evan out)
Evan: (Picks up wringing wet washcloth and hurls it at mommy, soaking her and the bathroom simultaneously)
Daddy: "Ok, that's enough!" (jerks Evan out of the tub and carries him to his bedroom)
Chloe: WAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
Mommy:(must now leave the scene, but listens to the screaming and fighting from Chloe's room)
Daddy leaves Evan's room, shuts his door. Screaming, crying, yelling all ensue. Followed by banging and kicking on the door. Followed by pleas and pitiful cries that he's scared. I finally get Chloe back to sleep and come out to find Daddy sitting on the floor outside his door. Evan's fingers are sticking out of the bottom of the door.
I go in the room.
Evan is naked. He has removed his pajamas. All of the sheets and blankets have been taken off his bed and thrown in the floor and he is laying at the door screaming.
I pick him up, dress him, place him on the bed, cover him up, tell goodnight and that I love him. Explain to him that if he removes his clothes and covers again that I will take them with me since it will show me that he obviously doesn't want them. Shut the door and leave the room.
He cries for another 30 minutes or so. I go back up and tell him that I will leave the door cracked with the hall light on if he is quiet, but if he makes a sound his door will be closed. He finally goes to sleep.
Daddy: Is there something wrong with him? Is that normal?
Mommy: I think it's normal. My mom said I used to bang my head on the floor when I was three. I think there's a wide range of normal three year old behavior.
Daddy: What are we supposed to do?
Mommy: I think we just need to be really, really consistent (that's what the experts say).
Daddy: (wanders off in a state of shock)
Mommy: (begins to search "normal three year old tantrums" on the Internet) j/k on that one.
But, seriously, I do pray and I think I need to dig my Love and Logic book back out again. I MUST be missing something here.
Anyway, despite the sincere apologies to his grandparents this morning, I'm thinking there will be no computer games or tv at our house tonight. Anyone want in on those odds?
Matthew: Evan, do you understand what we are saying?
Evan: Nods
Matthew: So, if you throw a fit tomorrow, what will happen to you?
Evan: (Very serious with big eyes) I won't get to live anymore.
Mommy: Chokes back laughter and runs into the kitchen before he can see me smile.
Daddy, of course, explains it all again and Evan then repeats what the real punishment will be.
We hope the threat works because a night with no computer games or tv will be rough (on us, LOL). But, we are not holding out much hope especially after what happened in the bath last night:
After playing happily for about 30 minutes.
Mommy: Time to wash up and get ready to get out.
Evan: No, I don't want to get clean, I want to play.
Mommy: (reaches for the soap)
Evan: (smacks it out of my hand)
Mommy: (firmly) I said, it is time to wash up. (starts trying to find the soap in the water)
Evan: (grabbing my hand, trying to prevent me from finding the soap) I said, I'm playing. (Now begins kicking at my hand)
Mommy: If you do not obey, all toys are coming out of the tub and you will not get to play tomorrow.
Evan: I'm not going to obey.
Mommy: (begins scooping toys out)
Evan: begins screaming and thrashing and kicking and splashing and grabbing my hand
Daddy: (arrives on the scene) What is going on?
Mommy: Evan won't stop playing and let me wash him up, so toys are coming out of the tub. I've got it under control. (famous last words)
Evan: more loud screaming, wailing, thrashing, etc. (begins grabbing toys and attempting to sit on them)
Mommy: If you do not stop screaming, no bedtime stories... 1...2....
Evan: (abruptly stops)
Mommy: (resumes toy removal)
Evan: (resumes wailing)
Mommy: That's 3, no bedtime stories tonight.
Evan: (increases wailing)
Mommy: If you do not stop screaming, I will not be laying down with you tonight... 1....2....
Evan: (abruptly stops)
Mommy: (resumes toy removal)
Evan: (resumes wailing at increased volume)
Mommy: That's 3, Evan.
Evan: (increases volume again)
Mommy: (finally gets all toys out of the tub including the ones I had to pry from his hands and tries to now wash Evan)
Evan: (kicking, splashing, sliding all around the tub and of course more screaming)
Mommy: (Gives up, puts washcloth in the tub, and starts to get Evan out)
Evan: (Picks up wringing wet washcloth and hurls it at mommy, soaking her and the bathroom simultaneously)
Daddy: "Ok, that's enough!" (jerks Evan out of the tub and carries him to his bedroom)
Chloe: WAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
Mommy:(must now leave the scene, but listens to the screaming and fighting from Chloe's room)
Daddy leaves Evan's room, shuts his door. Screaming, crying, yelling all ensue. Followed by banging and kicking on the door. Followed by pleas and pitiful cries that he's scared. I finally get Chloe back to sleep and come out to find Daddy sitting on the floor outside his door. Evan's fingers are sticking out of the bottom of the door.
I go in the room.
Evan is naked. He has removed his pajamas. All of the sheets and blankets have been taken off his bed and thrown in the floor and he is laying at the door screaming.
I pick him up, dress him, place him on the bed, cover him up, tell goodnight and that I love him. Explain to him that if he removes his clothes and covers again that I will take them with me since it will show me that he obviously doesn't want them. Shut the door and leave the room.
He cries for another 30 minutes or so. I go back up and tell him that I will leave the door cracked with the hall light on if he is quiet, but if he makes a sound his door will be closed. He finally goes to sleep.
Daddy: Is there something wrong with him? Is that normal?
Mommy: I think it's normal. My mom said I used to bang my head on the floor when I was three. I think there's a wide range of normal three year old behavior.
Daddy: What are we supposed to do?
Mommy: I think we just need to be really, really consistent (that's what the experts say).
Daddy: (wanders off in a state of shock)
Mommy: (begins to search "normal three year old tantrums" on the Internet) j/k on that one.
But, seriously, I do pray and I think I need to dig my Love and Logic book back out again. I MUST be missing something here.
Anyway, despite the sincere apologies to his grandparents this morning, I'm thinking there will be no computer games or tv at our house tonight. Anyone want in on those odds?
Evan's Domestic Side
For a few days, Evan has been playing with a doll at my mom's house. Apparently he is a very good daddy. He gives her a bath and changes her diaper and rocks her to sleep. Very sweet.
Yesterday when I went to feed Chloe at lunch we discovered a terrible accident had occurred with Evan's baby. Apparently her hand came off (a plastic hand on a stuffed doll). He wouldn't really say how exactly this happened, just said it just came off. He was very distraught about it and was rocking and comforting the baby. I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt and not calling social services on him. Grandmother promised to try to fix her hand, but in the meantime, the little plastic hand holding the baby bottle was the perfect shape for a toy gun! So, poor injured baby was abandoned and he played some sort of good guy/bad guy game for the rest of the afternoon. Typical boy.
So, when Evan's future wife calls me after their first baby is born and says in bewilderment that Evan won't help with the baby because he is afraid her hand will fall off, I will be able to reassure her that this is not just the world's worst excuse to get out of baby duty.
Yesterday when I went to feed Chloe at lunch we discovered a terrible accident had occurred with Evan's baby. Apparently her hand came off (a plastic hand on a stuffed doll). He wouldn't really say how exactly this happened, just said it just came off. He was very distraught about it and was rocking and comforting the baby. I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt and not calling social services on him. Grandmother promised to try to fix her hand, but in the meantime, the little plastic hand holding the baby bottle was the perfect shape for a toy gun! So, poor injured baby was abandoned and he played some sort of good guy/bad guy game for the rest of the afternoon. Typical boy.
So, when Evan's future wife calls me after their first baby is born and says in bewilderment that Evan won't help with the baby because he is afraid her hand will fall off, I will be able to reassure her that this is not just the world's worst excuse to get out of baby duty.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
I Wonder No More
My last post made me remember a favorite professor of mine from ETSU. I would say she was easily one of my very favorite ones from my undergrad and I think I had her for seven classes. I got to "know" her pretty well. At least I felt like I knew her pretty well, LOL. She was always interesting and shared bits of her life with us. As I mentioned before, one of those tidbits was that she and her husband had decided to let God determine the size of their family. I thought I had remembered that she had five children, but it looks like it was only four. She did laugh and say that when you make that decision it is kind of like taking a cold shower, so I guess they either rethought their decision, or it was really like a cold shower to them. Irregardless, in another class she discussed with us their decision to remove their children from Ashley Academy (a private Christian school that they loved) and to jointly homeschool them, which was also interesting to me. Speaking of her husband, she also told us how she finally agreed to marry him. Apparently, he proposed multiple times and she made a list of pros and cons each time and they changed slightly each time and finally the pros outweighed the cons so she said yes. Romantic, huh? They also raised Llamas and between her two (at the time) children, her husband, and her llamas, she had plenty of anecdotes for her psychology, behavior, and research classes that she taught. After I was out of school and married, Matthew and I began attending the same church that they do and so I kind of kept in touch with her there a little bit. We loved that church and have never found another "home" that feels quite the same.
Anyway, just thought I would pass on this completely useless information to you since I have a block of time after lunch without students (for now) and had nothing better to do. (Like, begin to research my topic or write that prospectus, work on my self-assigned work for my other class, or print some student reports). I did file Dr. Clements' e-mail address away and don't think she won't get an e-mail from me next semester reminding her that she once wrote "You write researchy material very well. You should really consider grad school" on a paper of mine and begging her to help me with my Excel spreadsheet ;). If I look really hard, I might even be able to find the paper (since Matthew has since revamped it and turned it in for both his Masters and Ed.S), and scan it in as evidence.
Anyway, just thought I would pass on this completely useless information to you since I have a block of time after lunch without students (for now) and had nothing better to do. (Like, begin to research my topic or write that prospectus, work on my self-assigned work for my other class, or print some student reports). I did file Dr. Clements' e-mail address away and don't think she won't get an e-mail from me next semester reminding her that she once wrote "You write researchy material very well. You should really consider grad school" on a paper of mine and begging her to help me with my Excel spreadsheet ;). If I look really hard, I might even be able to find the paper (since Matthew has since revamped it and turned it in for both his Masters and Ed.S), and scan it in as evidence.
In the Loop
Ok, first of all, I must apologize for the truly depressing week of posts last week. Whew! I was an emotional wreck last week! Thanks for bearing with me. I can't afford therapy, so you guys are it ;).
Anyway, I just wanted to fill you in on my research class from you know where... it is still really really not fun. If I were going to let myself get stressed about it, which I'm not (remember?), I'd tell you that I am oodles of worried over this daggone (how do you spell that, anyway?) 100 question comprehensive final that I have to take at the end of the class. And I'd also tell you that the reason I am oodles of worried over this is that my professor/instructor, whatever she prefers to be called (who actually is an extremely kind and gracious person who gives way more of her time than is really necessary to try to help us and that makes it really hard to not like her) is not doing a very good job of explaining much of anything in a way that makes any sense to me.
I know that possibly a few of my readers went to ETSU for college, and while I think most of you had to take "real" math for your degrees, perhaps a few of you had to take the old Prob and Stats course with me. Well, if you didn't here is how it was designed... about 25 different people taught the course. They could teach it anyway they wanted, but at the end of the course every student enrolled in prob and stats had to take the same final and your final grade could not deviate more than one letter grade from your score on the test. So, if you had an A going into the final and bombed it... the highest you could earn in the class was a D. Vice versa, if you had an F going in and aced it.. the lowest you could earn in the class was a B, but I've never heard of that particular scenario occurring. That is because I have never encountered a student from ETSU who had a professor in that class that was able to teach them in a way that they understood anything. I was really lucky. My professor gave a quiz every single day with points that added up cumulatively. Either she felt really sorry for us, or couldn't add correctly, or was just generally clueless (which judging from her disheveled hair and clothes, I'm guessing it was the last one), but whatever it was, she added the quizzes up cumulatively, but still based our grade on 100 points. So, in other words we had way over 100 points worth of quizzes, but once you got to 90 points you had an A for the class. Therefore, I discovered that I could miss at least one class per week of my Tues./Thurs. class and still carry an A in the class. This probably did not help my preparedness for the final, but honestly from what I was getting out of class, I don't think it really hurt it. If it tells you anything, the final covered 6 chapters of the textbook and we covered 3 in the entire semester in class. So, when the final rolled around I was CLUELESS! I basically went to the library and copied a few old copies of finals that they had, went back to my dorm and spent all night long teaching myself which formulas went with which questions and how to work the problems on those finals. I somehow got an A in the class. I still think it mostly has to do with the fact that most of the prob and stat department cannot do math. But, I learned nothing.
I have two points to the ramble above. First, this class also involves some probability and statistics, of which I know nothing about. And apparently when we will really need that knowledge is next semester when we are supposed to enter our data into an Excel spreadsheet and run some sort of statistical process on it and then analyze it. Unfortunately, next semester's class is an independent study so there is no one to actually show us how to do this (but, I'm not going to allow myself to get stressed out about it). And did I mention that I cannot even make a class roll in Excel without something messing up(that is why I use Word for everything), let alone run an ANOVA or whatever the heck it is called? (But I'm not going to allow myself to get stressed out about it.) The second point, is that the class I am taking is designed very much like the prob and stat class above. Basically, what has happened in the past (from what this professor says) is that 101 different adjunct professors have taught this class on 101 different campuses across the state and everyone designed their own syllabus, requirements, etc. From what I've heard from most of my friends who have taken it prior to this semester is that they basically met two or three times and turned their paper in. Apparently some were allowed to "contrive" their research, some could just include a table with their data, and some didn't even have to produce data at all. Most did not take a final exam. So, I guess in an effort to make the class more consistent, and I'd say to help improve Tech's reputation in the research department, they have decided to try to regulate the class a bit more. So, now all instructors are supposedly required to use the same syllabus, the same rubric for the paper, same handouts to prepare for the exam, and give the same 100 question final exam, all designed by Dr. Larimore who is supposedly the guru of research at Tech and who all grad students know to avoid like the plague. So, fun times. And this change was mandated, allegedly, on January 14, when the semester began January 15. So, my professor, bless her heart, feels totally discombobulated. She is handing out stacks of handouts each class, jumping from topic to topic, drawing tables here and there on the board, and I have no idea what she is talking about. Every once in a while she says "a good multiple choice question would be..." and I write that down quickly, but other than that... no clue. My only saving grace is that I did have a very good research class at ETSU in my undergrad program taught by Dr. Andi Clements (who interestingly enough decided to let God determine the size of their family and announced this to our class. The last I heard she had jumped from 2 to 5 children since then. I wonder.... but I digress) and so I'm hoping and praying I can recall enough to pass the final exam and that our professor has mercy and goes to bat for us (and she seems that she will). Anyway, all this to say, I'm not going to stress about it.
So, last night, just when we thought we were actually going to get out on time for once, as everyone is packing up their stuff after listening to nearly 3 hours of bell curves and random samples and BF Skinner's single subject studies and external variance and internal threats to validity and who knows what else.... she says, "For next week, I'd like you to have your prospectus ready to turn in and present to the class." Um..... huh? I needed Chloe's "Whatcha talkin' about Willis look" on a card to hold up. Immediately people start asking questions. I unpacked and settled back in. Apparently, we should have our introduction, the significance of our study, our problem statements and research questions, and our hypotheses (since I learned that is the plural of hypothesis, she stressed that point) completed and ready to present to class next week. See, in her mind, we should decide what we want to study, then worry about if we can find the data. But, in the real world of education, you are sometimes limited to exactly what data you can get your little hands on. It's not like you can implement an experimental study because the IRB who decides if your study is ethical or not and says whether you have permission to conduct it tends to get their shorts in a wad if you want to experiment on little innocent children. So, you have to look at something post facto (don't I sound intelligent, see I did learn last night, I did), which just means "after the fact". So, you have to find something at your school that has already been implemented and then try to see if you can get your hands on data that has been determined to be reliable and valid by some outside source to study the effects and then you have to look at all the possible flaws in the study such as different student populations, different teaching styles, years of experience, etc. and see if your study would even produce any results that would be valid. Again, fun times. So, all this is to say that I had not officially decided what I was going to study, yet. And all of a sudden I needed to know, and quick. The problem I had was that everything I thought about studying required getting data from other teachers and I just didn't know how cooperative they were going to be about it, especially if they caught on that I was trying to show that someone else's test scores were better than theirs because of something they were doing in the classroom. I was feeling very uneasy about it, thinking that I was going to end up not being able to get my hands on the data I needed and then really being in trouble next semester. And finally last night, as she was drawing yet another table on the board to try to demonstrate how to "maximize experimental variance" whatever that means, it just hit me. The titles of her table were looping/non-looping. Well, my first year at North Middle school I taught 5th grade reading. The next year I was reassigned to 6th grade reading by my principal. Because we have two separate teams of teachers at North, roughly half of the students I had in 6th grade that year had looped (stayed with the same teacher for two consecutive grades, for all you noneducation majors out there) with me. I had a great, mostly random, well-diversified sample right at my finger tips and the data was already in a nice little neat notebook on a shelf in my classroom (at least I hope it is still there, I'm sure it is). So..... the topic of my stinky research paper is .... da, da, da
The effects of looping on reading achievement and I will be looking at differences between high, middle, and low achievement groups (with special ed students included in the low group), gender, and socio-economic status (but I haven't decided exactly how to word that yet).
And to be perfectly honest, I'm not thinking I'm going to find a real significant difference, but we shall see, I guess. Doesn't it sound like fun? I'm so excited to get the results, I can barely contain myself! I bet most of you have already fallen asleep at your computers. I apologize for the keyboard marks that will undoubtedly be ingrained in your face and I hope your drool doesn't damage your computer ;). Ok, ok, don't beg, you can help me and be involved in my Earth shattering research project if you want. I'll let you! But my name has to be listed first when it is published in all the hugely important scholarly journals.
And if I had let myself start to get stressed about it (which, of course I didn't) I would tell you, that I now have a huge weight lifted from my shoulders since I have decided on a topic and know how to actually be able to complete the research on it. (But of course, I wasn't ever stressed because I didn't allow myself to be and so my shoulders feel just as feather-light as ever).
Anyway, I just wanted to fill you in on my research class from you know where... it is still really really not fun. If I were going to let myself get stressed about it, which I'm not (remember?), I'd tell you that I am oodles of worried over this daggone (how do you spell that, anyway?) 100 question comprehensive final that I have to take at the end of the class. And I'd also tell you that the reason I am oodles of worried over this is that my professor/instructor, whatever she prefers to be called (who actually is an extremely kind and gracious person who gives way more of her time than is really necessary to try to help us and that makes it really hard to not like her) is not doing a very good job of explaining much of anything in a way that makes any sense to me.
I know that possibly a few of my readers went to ETSU for college, and while I think most of you had to take "real" math for your degrees, perhaps a few of you had to take the old Prob and Stats course with me. Well, if you didn't here is how it was designed... about 25 different people taught the course. They could teach it anyway they wanted, but at the end of the course every student enrolled in prob and stats had to take the same final and your final grade could not deviate more than one letter grade from your score on the test. So, if you had an A going into the final and bombed it... the highest you could earn in the class was a D. Vice versa, if you had an F going in and aced it.. the lowest you could earn in the class was a B, but I've never heard of that particular scenario occurring. That is because I have never encountered a student from ETSU who had a professor in that class that was able to teach them in a way that they understood anything. I was really lucky. My professor gave a quiz every single day with points that added up cumulatively. Either she felt really sorry for us, or couldn't add correctly, or was just generally clueless (which judging from her disheveled hair and clothes, I'm guessing it was the last one), but whatever it was, she added the quizzes up cumulatively, but still based our grade on 100 points. So, in other words we had way over 100 points worth of quizzes, but once you got to 90 points you had an A for the class. Therefore, I discovered that I could miss at least one class per week of my Tues./Thurs. class and still carry an A in the class. This probably did not help my preparedness for the final, but honestly from what I was getting out of class, I don't think it really hurt it. If it tells you anything, the final covered 6 chapters of the textbook and we covered 3 in the entire semester in class. So, when the final rolled around I was CLUELESS! I basically went to the library and copied a few old copies of finals that they had, went back to my dorm and spent all night long teaching myself which formulas went with which questions and how to work the problems on those finals. I somehow got an A in the class. I still think it mostly has to do with the fact that most of the prob and stat department cannot do math. But, I learned nothing.
I have two points to the ramble above. First, this class also involves some probability and statistics, of which I know nothing about. And apparently when we will really need that knowledge is next semester when we are supposed to enter our data into an Excel spreadsheet and run some sort of statistical process on it and then analyze it. Unfortunately, next semester's class is an independent study so there is no one to actually show us how to do this (but, I'm not going to allow myself to get stressed out about it). And did I mention that I cannot even make a class roll in Excel without something messing up(that is why I use Word for everything), let alone run an ANOVA or whatever the heck it is called? (But I'm not going to allow myself to get stressed out about it.) The second point, is that the class I am taking is designed very much like the prob and stat class above. Basically, what has happened in the past (from what this professor says) is that 101 different adjunct professors have taught this class on 101 different campuses across the state and everyone designed their own syllabus, requirements, etc. From what I've heard from most of my friends who have taken it prior to this semester is that they basically met two or three times and turned their paper in. Apparently some were allowed to "contrive" their research, some could just include a table with their data, and some didn't even have to produce data at all. Most did not take a final exam. So, I guess in an effort to make the class more consistent, and I'd say to help improve Tech's reputation in the research department, they have decided to try to regulate the class a bit more. So, now all instructors are supposedly required to use the same syllabus, the same rubric for the paper, same handouts to prepare for the exam, and give the same 100 question final exam, all designed by Dr. Larimore who is supposedly the guru of research at Tech and who all grad students know to avoid like the plague. So, fun times. And this change was mandated, allegedly, on January 14, when the semester began January 15. So, my professor, bless her heart, feels totally discombobulated. She is handing out stacks of handouts each class, jumping from topic to topic, drawing tables here and there on the board, and I have no idea what she is talking about. Every once in a while she says "a good multiple choice question would be..." and I write that down quickly, but other than that... no clue. My only saving grace is that I did have a very good research class at ETSU in my undergrad program taught by Dr. Andi Clements (who interestingly enough decided to let God determine the size of their family and announced this to our class. The last I heard she had jumped from 2 to 5 children since then. I wonder.... but I digress) and so I'm hoping and praying I can recall enough to pass the final exam and that our professor has mercy and goes to bat for us (and she seems that she will). Anyway, all this to say, I'm not going to stress about it.
So, last night, just when we thought we were actually going to get out on time for once, as everyone is packing up their stuff after listening to nearly 3 hours of bell curves and random samples and BF Skinner's single subject studies and external variance and internal threats to validity and who knows what else.... she says, "For next week, I'd like you to have your prospectus ready to turn in and present to the class." Um..... huh? I needed Chloe's "Whatcha talkin' about Willis look" on a card to hold up. Immediately people start asking questions. I unpacked and settled back in. Apparently, we should have our introduction, the significance of our study, our problem statements and research questions, and our hypotheses (since I learned that is the plural of hypothesis, she stressed that point) completed and ready to present to class next week. See, in her mind, we should decide what we want to study, then worry about if we can find the data. But, in the real world of education, you are sometimes limited to exactly what data you can get your little hands on. It's not like you can implement an experimental study because the IRB who decides if your study is ethical or not and says whether you have permission to conduct it tends to get their shorts in a wad if you want to experiment on little innocent children. So, you have to look at something post facto (don't I sound intelligent, see I did learn last night, I did), which just means "after the fact". So, you have to find something at your school that has already been implemented and then try to see if you can get your hands on data that has been determined to be reliable and valid by some outside source to study the effects and then you have to look at all the possible flaws in the study such as different student populations, different teaching styles, years of experience, etc. and see if your study would even produce any results that would be valid. Again, fun times. So, all this is to say that I had not officially decided what I was going to study, yet. And all of a sudden I needed to know, and quick. The problem I had was that everything I thought about studying required getting data from other teachers and I just didn't know how cooperative they were going to be about it, especially if they caught on that I was trying to show that someone else's test scores were better than theirs because of something they were doing in the classroom. I was feeling very uneasy about it, thinking that I was going to end up not being able to get my hands on the data I needed and then really being in trouble next semester. And finally last night, as she was drawing yet another table on the board to try to demonstrate how to "maximize experimental variance" whatever that means, it just hit me. The titles of her table were looping/non-looping. Well, my first year at North Middle school I taught 5th grade reading. The next year I was reassigned to 6th grade reading by my principal. Because we have two separate teams of teachers at North, roughly half of the students I had in 6th grade that year had looped (stayed with the same teacher for two consecutive grades, for all you noneducation majors out there) with me. I had a great, mostly random, well-diversified sample right at my finger tips and the data was already in a nice little neat notebook on a shelf in my classroom (at least I hope it is still there, I'm sure it is). So..... the topic of my stinky research paper is .... da, da, da
The effects of looping on reading achievement and I will be looking at differences between high, middle, and low achievement groups (with special ed students included in the low group), gender, and socio-economic status (but I haven't decided exactly how to word that yet).
And to be perfectly honest, I'm not thinking I'm going to find a real significant difference, but we shall see, I guess. Doesn't it sound like fun? I'm so excited to get the results, I can barely contain myself! I bet most of you have already fallen asleep at your computers. I apologize for the keyboard marks that will undoubtedly be ingrained in your face and I hope your drool doesn't damage your computer ;). Ok, ok, don't beg, you can help me and be involved in my Earth shattering research project if you want. I'll let you! But my name has to be listed first when it is published in all the hugely important scholarly journals.
And if I had let myself start to get stressed about it (which, of course I didn't) I would tell you, that I now have a huge weight lifted from my shoulders since I have decided on a topic and know how to actually be able to complete the research on it. (But of course, I wasn't ever stressed because I didn't allow myself to be and so my shoulders feel just as feather-light as ever).
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Happy Birthday in Heaven
Today would have been my grandmother's 91st birthday. (Yes, this has been kind of a difficult week.) It is strange how even after 90 years of a wonderful and blessed life, I feel like I was robbed of time that I deserved with her. I feel like she was taken too soon. I guess it just goes to show that you are never really ready to let go. I miss her so much. I would love to talk to her again and I wish she had gotten to meet Chloe. She loved to celebrate her birthday. It was always a celebration, no matter how old she was. She was proud of her age and her life. I hope that she had a huge celebration today in Heaven with family members who were there waiting for her and with Jesus.
This is what I wrote to say at her funeral. When I spoke, I did not say this word for word, though. She was a remarkable lady. At her funeral many people told me that I looked like she did when she was younger. I had never really noticed it and I'm still not sure I see it, but I would be honored to look like her and even more honored if I can become even a part of the woman she was.
Red
You may have noticed members of the family wearing red ribbons tonight and wondered why. We wanted to wear something in remembrance of my grandmother. As we discussed memories and good times that we had shared with her, one color kept returning to our minds- red.
Grandmother loved to wear red and she looked beautiful in it. It set off her white hair and made her eyes sparkle even more than they usually did. And the compliments she would receive when she wore the color would light up her face and bring out the gorgeous smile we all loved so well.
But as we continued to remember, we began to find even more significance in the color.
Christmas, for example, none of us will ever forget Grandmother’s Christmas dinner, especially her macaroni and cheese, or the love and joy which filled her house and our hearts during that time.
Or flowers, Grandmother loved flowers and we will always remember her flower beds filled with red azaleas and geraniums which lined the lake where we gathered in the summers.
Then there were the brilliant fall leaves which filled the trees surrounding their home in the autumn.
Or the bright red cardinals which would come to feed off the many bird feeders which adorned her yard. She would often sit and watch them and comment on their beauty especially with the background of a freshly fallen white snow.
In the spring she would lovingly mix her special recipe of sugar and water to fill her hummingbird feeders which hung along the side of her house. Those tiny birds with their ruby throats would thrill her as they hovered in the air.
Then there is the red in her Bible, representing the blood of Christ and marking the words of Christ. My grandmother loved God, had a strong faith in Christ, and together she and my granddaddy instilled this in all of their family through their example. Some of my strongest memories of grandmother include sitting beside her in church, her Bible open on her lap, and the sound of her voice singing her favorite hymns.
But more than anything else, red is the color of love. Grandmother’s love touched us all, gave us strength, lifted us up, and brought us comfort and joy. Family was so important to her. It was evident in all she did- her stories she loved to tell, her poetry, and her paintings of cherished family sites. Each year, she would proudly announce she and my Granddaddy’s wedding anniversary and the love they shared became an example to strive for all of their family. And the cards and letters she loved to write. I’m sure many of us in this room have cherished hand-written letters from her. So, above all else, when remembering Grandmother, think of the color red and think of her love.
We miss you and remember you today with love, Grandmother.
This is what I wrote to say at her funeral. When I spoke, I did not say this word for word, though. She was a remarkable lady. At her funeral many people told me that I looked like she did when she was younger. I had never really noticed it and I'm still not sure I see it, but I would be honored to look like her and even more honored if I can become even a part of the woman she was.
Red
You may have noticed members of the family wearing red ribbons tonight and wondered why. We wanted to wear something in remembrance of my grandmother. As we discussed memories and good times that we had shared with her, one color kept returning to our minds- red.
Grandmother loved to wear red and she looked beautiful in it. It set off her white hair and made her eyes sparkle even more than they usually did. And the compliments she would receive when she wore the color would light up her face and bring out the gorgeous smile we all loved so well.
But as we continued to remember, we began to find even more significance in the color.
Christmas, for example, none of us will ever forget Grandmother’s Christmas dinner, especially her macaroni and cheese, or the love and joy which filled her house and our hearts during that time.
Or flowers, Grandmother loved flowers and we will always remember her flower beds filled with red azaleas and geraniums which lined the lake where we gathered in the summers.
Then there were the brilliant fall leaves which filled the trees surrounding their home in the autumn.
Or the bright red cardinals which would come to feed off the many bird feeders which adorned her yard. She would often sit and watch them and comment on their beauty especially with the background of a freshly fallen white snow.
In the spring she would lovingly mix her special recipe of sugar and water to fill her hummingbird feeders which hung along the side of her house. Those tiny birds with their ruby throats would thrill her as they hovered in the air.
Then there is the red in her Bible, representing the blood of Christ and marking the words of Christ. My grandmother loved God, had a strong faith in Christ, and together she and my granddaddy instilled this in all of their family through their example. Some of my strongest memories of grandmother include sitting beside her in church, her Bible open on her lap, and the sound of her voice singing her favorite hymns.
But more than anything else, red is the color of love. Grandmother’s love touched us all, gave us strength, lifted us up, and brought us comfort and joy. Family was so important to her. It was evident in all she did- her stories she loved to tell, her poetry, and her paintings of cherished family sites. Each year, she would proudly announce she and my Granddaddy’s wedding anniversary and the love they shared became an example to strive for all of their family. And the cards and letters she loved to write. I’m sure many of us in this room have cherished hand-written letters from her. So, above all else, when remembering Grandmother, think of the color red and think of her love.
We miss you and remember you today with love, Grandmother.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Happy Valentine's Day...
from a little sweetheart who is 8 months old today!
I also want to take this day to remember two other precious little angels. It was on Valentine's Day in 2007 that I looked at the ultrasound screen and then looked at my husband and sadly shook my head because I could already see that the two precious little heartbeats that we had seen the week before were now still. We had to say goodbye to two more babies. The last post I wrote on such a day was a hopeful and uplifting one and I hope by the time this one is done it will be as well, but my second miscarriage was very different than my first.
We had been cautiously excited when we learned we were pregnant again after my first miscarriage. We were a bundle of nerves when we went for the ultrasound at 6 weeks to see if there was a heartbeat. We were filled with relief when we saw one. Then my ultrasound tech asked me to try to go empty my bladder. My heart kind of leaped in my chest since the last time an ultrasound tech acted like this, something had been wrong. But, I had seen the heartbeat with my own eyes. She said it was just so early, she wanted to try to get in closer to get more accurate measurements. I bought it and tried, but I was unsuccessful. I have a very shy bladder and pregnant or not it cannot "perform" on demand. She tried again anyway and then she got a big smile. She said, "That's what I thought I saw." I said, "What?" and then she showed us. She said, "Right here is one little precious heartbeat, and over here is.... " and I think both of our mouths fell open... "another little precious heartbeat." I said, "TWINS?" and she said, "yes." I immediately started crying. My first thought was "God has given us back what was taken from us." I thanked Him again and again. We were over the moon! We had planned on waiting a little while to tell people, but we were so excited it was twins, we couldn't wait. We came home and called everyone and told everyone. I was a bit overwhelmed at the thought... wondering how we would care for them, how would I manage to breastfeed twins, would my pregnancy be ok since twins double the chance of a million complications that I was already at high risk for? But, I was not about to be unhappy about it, I was nervous, but absolutely thrilled! I figured if God had given them to us, He would bring us through whatever hurdles would come with it. They wanted us to come back a week later for another ultrasound and said since twins were a special case that we would likely be having lots of ultrasounds. When we went back the next week I was again a bundle of nerves. I won't go into detail, but the ultrasound tech was not as reassuring as the first one had been. I waited in agony for her to confirm two heartbeats as she asked me a million questions which made my mind think she was seeing the worst. But finally Matthew stepped over to where he could see the screen and nodded at me and mouthed, "I see two" while holding up two fingers. I began beaming. She determined that they were identical twins who were sharing the same gestational sac, but did have a membrane between them. The membrane was good news, but identical twins likely meant they were sharing one placenta which again increased the risk. But then came unsettling news. The babies had not grown at all since last week. The ultrasound tech and doctor tried to reassure me that the measurements might be off or I might be as far along as I thought. But I was positive about my dates and in my heart I knew something was wrong. The tech would not measure the heartrate which infuriated me. She said, a beating heart is all that mattered and we were told to come back next week. So the next week on Valentine's Day we went back to the same office we had been to two weeks before. At this office, they have a big screen in front of you, so you see it all. I felt pretty nervous when the same tech that had discovered my first miscarriage walked in, but I tried not to get carried away with superstition. As soon as she started, she was silent, but I could tell what she saw. I could see my two perfectly still little beans clear as day. And while I think Matthew tried to hope I was wrong, I knew the truth. Finally she told us the news and he broke down. I think that was one of the hardest things for me. He had not been with me for my first loss and to see him so devastated just broke my heart even more. I felt like such a failure.
I will admit that what followed were some dark times for me faith-wise. I just could not make sense of this. What purpose could there possibly be in this?
I became very scared that I would never have another baby. This had to be more than just coincidence. My doctor was going to run tests and I was terrified of what they would show. On the one hand, if they showed nothing I would be afraid to try again because what would prevent the same thing from happening again? On the other hand, if they found something wrong I knew for sure I had an increased chance of it happening again. And the worse was if they found a chromosomal problem with a likelihood of repeating... there was really nothing that could be done about that. And then we would have to decide whether to try again with that knowledge. I began to wonder if this were somehow my fault. I knew that I had not consciously done anything to cause this, but what if it were something wrong with me? Was I selfish to keep getting pregnant? Had I not waited long enough, was the timing wrong? Was it the blood pressure medicine they had given me? I became obsessed with finding possible causes and trying to treat them. I scoured the Internet (not always the most reliable source) for obscure causes that I could take to my doctor. I was so afraid and confused. I didn't know what was the right thing to do in anything. I agonized over every decision that concerned my health, pored over every test result. I was a constant ball of worry and it rarely occurred to me to pray as I worried and agonized and when I did pray, it was more of just a desperate plea of please let me be able to have another baby.
I became very angry. Why were all of these people who seemingly did not deserve to have children having them so easily and it was so hard for me? I twisted the words of people who loved me and projected my feelings onto them. For example, if someone told me that I had to trust God and have faith, my mind immediately thought ... was it because I didn't have enough faith that this happened? If people told me that maybe I should give it some time, I felt like they were saying that I had not waited long enough. I felt everyone was being critical of me. I felt like everyone was judging me. I began to withdraw from friends and family. If they did bring up the subject, I was very short with them. I felt people did not understand. I felt other people took their easy pregnancies for granted. I felt like a lightning rod because lightning had struck me twice. It felt like anytime someone else faced a worrisome situation it worked out, but not for me. Of course, I kept most of these feelings inside because I didn't like to hear what anyone had to say to me.
I began to feel very sorry for myself. Why was it so easy for some people and so difficult for me? Had I not already been through enough? Why had God allowed this to happen again? Why did He perform miracles for other people and not for me? When would my pain end? Me, me, me.
I then began to feel very guilty about my lack of faith and trust in God and that led to an all consuming fear that I would somehow be punished for all of these feelings. I was confused between the difference in turning it over to God and researching and trying to do things to prevent another miscarriage. I didn't know where the line was and I worried that by trying all these things, I was not putting my faith in God and that I would be punished for it. I began to feel guilty because I wanted more children and was not satisfied with the one perfect little boy that I had. Then I would worry that God would take Evan away from me to teach me to appreciate what I had. I began to worry that this was all a test of my faith, like Job, and that I was failing terribly and that I would surely be punished for this. I was scared to death every time I was away from Evan that I would never see him again. I would lay awake at night worrying about things that could possibly happen to him. The nurse that I had in recovery after my D&C recommended a book to me, The Christmas Box by Richard Paul Evans. I bought it, hoping that it would help me in some way. It was about a woman who lost her three year old daughter in a fire and how the memory and sadness stayed with her for the rest of her life until her death when she saw her again and was filled with joy. I'm still not sure why it is supposed to be comforting, but apparently it has helped many people who are grieving the loss of children. It launched me into a state of depression and anxiety. I was never happy. When I would watch Evan play, my feelings alternated between the deep sadness and fear that I would never have another child and the deep fear that I would somehow lose him as well. I finally decided that my feelings were not normal. I had not told anyone about them, but when I began to lay awake at night and think about what my son's funeral would be like I decided to see my doctor.
I broke down as I told his nurse about all of these feelings. When my doctor saw me, the first thing he did was assure me that my feelings were completely justified. He told me that in my mind, I had lost 3 of my children and what was to keep me from losing my son. I felt like he was the first person to justify my feelings that my miscarriages were the losses of actual children. And he told me something else. Something that you wouldn't always hear from a dr. Something that I knew somewhere deep down, but had forgotten along the way. He told me that first, God was not a punishing God. Bad things do not happen to people as punishment. And secondly, this was totally out of my hands and for the most part it was out of his hands, too. It was in God's hands. I began to cry when he said this (again) and I told him that that was what made this so very hard and scary for me. And then he said something that I have carried with me even though it is really so very simple.... he said, "sure, it is scary, you can look at it that way, but you can also look at it as a comfort. There is nothing you can do. It is in His hands, not yours. And His hands are bigger and more capable than any of ours. Try to let that be a comfort to you. Instead of trying to second guess every decision, know that the decision is not yours to make. What you do or don't do is not going to make the difference." And that is why I loved Dr. Jeffrey Brown. He prescribed some antidepressants for me. I took them for about two weeks, but really they made me feel numb and yawn all the time and I didn't like that feeling much better. My test results were back. The pathology report on the babies showed healthy female chromosomes, so we are still not positive if they had the right tissue or my tissue in the test. My blood work showed only one abnormality... one copy of the MTHFR gene which can cause issues with blood clots. But, it is thought that the heterogeneous version that I carried was not harmful. My doctor recommended I take a baby aspirin just in case. I researched on my own and decided to add extra folic acid, vitamin B12 and B6 to the mix. I became pregnant again and quickly and naturally miscarried. As soon as it became clear that I had indeed been pregnant and miscarried again my doctor referred me to a reproductive endocrinologist. Although, I was very upset about yet another miscarriage, I felt relief at being referred to the specialist. And because it would be several months before I could get in to see her we would have to wait several months before beginning to try again and that actually brought a big sense of relief to me. I felt like I could forget about it all for a while and try to focus on my family as it was.
It was during that time that I slowly began to emerge from my depression. Everything in our lives had pretty much been on hold during all this time. I decided to go on with our lives. I began to focus on Evan. I came to peace with the fact that he might indeed be my only child and I began to feel ok about it. I began to appreciate our lives. I decided to go back to school and work on my Masters. I began to truly process what my doctor had said. And I began to truly pray again. Not just desperate pleas to protect my child or to take away my sadness, but specific prayers. I began to seek God's guidance instead of trying to control it all myself. I realized that it did not matter what I did, I would never be able to control this. I slowly, slowly began to turn it over to God. And I began to feel a burden lifted that I cannot describe. I had no real reason to be hopeful or to feel better. If anything I had reason to feel worse, but I didn't. I felt infinitely better. And when I saw the specialist, I prayed before I went that God would grant her wisdom. And He did and He also turned her into an angel who was so calming and reassuring to me. She diagnosed me before ever really laying eyes on me and after she did, everything made so much more sense. For the first time, I felt like we knew what the problem was and that the treatment would help. Things got better and better from there. I can't say that there were not numerous times when I was a scared and nervous wreck during my pregnancy with Chloe. I wish I could tell you I turned all that over to God and never worried or second guessed anything, but that would just not be true. But what I can tell you is that when I began to worry or second guess, or panic, I remembered to pray. And I tried to the best of my ability to seek God in those times and He sustained me. And He fulfilled his promise to me and He gave me hope and future.
For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. Romans 8:18
Friday, February 13, 2009
It's Too Much
I'll warn you that this is not an uplifting post, but it's on my heart. I don't know how many of you listen to WIVK, but they've had their St. Jude marathon the last couple of days and everytime I've been in the car, I've cried while I listen to their stories. On top of that, I've stumbled across a couple of blogs lately where families are dealing with a child with cancer or have lost a child to cancer. It's not like I've been seeking out things to make me sad, but I keep coming across these stories. Then, today I read Savannah's latest post on her Caring Bridge site (she's in remission and doing well, Praise God), but in an earlier post her mom requests prayer for these two families, Brave Will and Brett. As I read about them with Chloe on my lap, I just broke down. I hugged her tight as I sobbed and the words "It's just too much, God" came out of my mouth. To lose a child, to see a child suffer from such a horrible disease, to be helpless to help them, it's all too much. To have to be brave enough to let a child go in peace. To decide to make the best of what time they have left, it's too much for any parent to go through. I don't think I could survive. I really don't. I just don't think I have that kind of courage, that kind of selflessness, or that kind of strength. But, then, on every site I've visited, every story I've heard there has been peace, hope even. How is that even possible? It's God. Only God could do it. He is the peace that passes understanding. Pray for these families, please (even if you don't read their stories), and countless others out there. Thank God for your healthy children, they are miracles. Thank God that He can pull us through times when anyone would say, "It's just, too much." And not only does He pull us through, He uses those precious lives to make a difference. He fulfills His purpose for those precious little ones.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Why I Hate My Husband
Of course I don't really hate him, I love him. But sometimes I hate him. Ok, maybe hate is the wrong word. Maybe I envy him is the much better and more accurate word. Have you seen the commercial with this woman? (Sorry about the bad picture)
It is for a weight loss drug and she talks about all the things she and her husband are doing to lose weight and his stick figure is drastically getting skinnier while hers is barely changing and what does change is not necessarily what she wants to (liker boobs shrinking or legs like toothpicks, but nothing coming off her stomach). Well, I completely feel like that.
Matthew has been on a weight loss kick (sort of) since this summer. The reason I say sort of, is that basically he works out pretty regularly for 20-30 minutes in the morning and he sometimes watches what he eats a little bit and makes healthier choices in between his splurges and the weight just keeps falling off and off and off. Basically, all he has to do is to think about losing weight and he drops about 10 pounds. It is disgusting! Why am I venting about this? Because I got on the scale this morning and he got behind me and said, "I'm catching up to you!" And it is true. My husband only weighs about 10 pounds more than me! And that is SO frustrating to me!
I have been trying to lose weight. I've lost some. I've been doing weight watchers online. But I am so frustrated because I keep sabotaging myself. I'll lose a few pounds and then I'll give in and eat something I know I shouldn't . But while Matthew can do that and be just fine, I'll gain 4 pounds from one meal! How is that even possible? So, now I'm stuck at a certain weight and I want to lose 10-15 pounds more and I can't.
And I feel like I have no time to workout. Matthew gets up at about 5:45 in the morning and works out, but I already get up at that time to get ready for work! And if I get up earlier I chance waking Chloe up which means I wouldn't get to work out anyway because I'd have to take care of her and she and I would both be tired for no good reason. Besides, it is usually WAY too cold to work out at that time. I was working out at night after the kids were in bed for a few weeks. But this means beginning my workout at 9:00 at night. There are several problems with this. One is that I often fall asleep when I lay down with Evan and then when I wake up an hour or two later, it is too late to workout. The other is that I then have no time to relax at all during the day. And the last one is that I can't go to sleep when I workout that late because I get my adrenaline going and so then I'm super tired the next day and don't want to workout that night.. and you see where this is going. And the thing is that while Matthew gets up and does about 20-30 minutes of some sprints, pushups, pullups, and sit ups and gets in a good workout and the weight falls off. I need 30 minutes of straight cardio to do any good (probably more) and I need to lift weights too. So, then I get all frustrated by the time factor, too.
So, the point of this post... I don't really know. I was just thinking about that commercial and how I feel exactly like that. What good marketing people they have. I'm guessing they have a woman struggling with her weight on their team. If I wasn't totally opposed to taking any kind of weight loss drug, I'd totally consider their product, but I am so I would never. I know that anything workout- wise would be better than nothing and I need to just suck it up and do better, but this is my blog and so I can vent if I want to. And I want to.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
You Know Your Child...
...plays too many computer games and watches too much T.V. when...
- He is outside playing baseball and when he misses a ball he says, "Woops! Someone forgot to press the spacebar!"
- He is pretending to be a cowboy with a lasso and he says, "To control the lasso, use the arrow keys. Press the right arrow to throw it to the right and the left arrow to throw it to the left."
- If you ask him what his address is, he says, "www dot bubble box dot com" (sorry future kindergarten teachers, we'll work on it!) Disclaimer: The website listed above is not recommended by the author of this blog.. he plays it at Granddaddy's and loves it, but it is really not for kids and is not educational. We censor what he is allowed to play and we balance the time with noggin.com, starfall, and some educational games we have at home.
- When he is playing imaginatively, he says he is making a "Spiderman show" and sometimes it is "an episode that you've never seen before." and sometimes it is "an ugly show that is way too scary for us."
- Your child can type his name correctly in the computer, but has no clue how to write it (again we'll work on this before he comes to kindergarten, I promise).
You also know that you are reading plenty of books (to counteract all of the above) when your child:
- Plays in "dialogue" and "narrates" what is happening, for example: "Evan puts Tai Lung in the eeeevil prison. "Help me!" says Tai Lung. "Nobody can help you now" says Evan. Tai Lung begins to cry. "I must find a way to get out. I am the Dragon Warrior", says Evan." (I used to do this all the time as a child, so it amuses me to see Evan do it now.)
- Starts an imaginative game with a title and author, for example: "The Story of the Big Car Race by Evan Tinker"
- He spontaneously "reads" books to his sister and he has the entire story memorized, including the inflections we use when reading them. (I love this!)
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
The Long Kiss Goodnight
As I was putting Evan to bed the other night, he leaned over and gave me a kiss on the lips. I didn't think much of it, but then he said, "Mommy, how do you do a long kiss?"
Choosing my words carefully, hoping that he was talking about something else, I said, "What do you mean a long kiss?"
He said, "Like on my Spiderman movie." (Thank you, Daddy. That is why there are suggested ratings on movies.)
I said, "Well, long kisses are for mommies and daddies, not little boys and mommies."
He said, "Can't we just try one?"
I said, "No" (and I don't know why I didn't feel the need to leave it at that) "someday when you are all grown up, you'll fall in love with a girl and then you can try it then."
He then said, "But that will take forever! I don't know where to find any girls. Are there girls at church?"
I reiterated over and over again that he has to wait until he is all grown up and that we do not kiss little girls now, but if your child ends up in a preschool class with mine next year (Hadley) or happens to play together anytime soon (Madelyn or Alysse), I apologize in advance for what my child might do.
Choosing my words carefully, hoping that he was talking about something else, I said, "What do you mean a long kiss?"
He said, "Like on my Spiderman movie." (Thank you, Daddy. That is why there are suggested ratings on movies.)
I said, "Well, long kisses are for mommies and daddies, not little boys and mommies."
He said, "Can't we just try one?"
I said, "No" (and I don't know why I didn't feel the need to leave it at that) "someday when you are all grown up, you'll fall in love with a girl and then you can try it then."
He then said, "But that will take forever! I don't know where to find any girls. Are there girls at church?"
I reiterated over and over again that he has to wait until he is all grown up and that we do not kiss little girls now, but if your child ends up in a preschool class with mine next year (Hadley) or happens to play together anytime soon (Madelyn or Alysse), I apologize in advance for what my child might do.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Tops This Week
Well, as you might expect most of our top moments this week took place this weekend, outside, in the beautiful weather! I only took a few hundred pictures this weekend. I want to work on them in photoshop when I get time (and that would be....um, not sure). So, for now just a few of my very favorites that are straight out of the camera.
Chloe laughing at Evan's wild ride, she thought he was hilarious!
Chloe's very first time feeling the cool grass. Apparently it is "yummy".
Evan's wild ride in the "baby car" that he is WAY too big for:
Chloe laughing at Evan's wild ride, she thought he was hilarious!
Chloe's very first time feeling the cool grass. Apparently it is "yummy".
Chloe enjoying her time outside and wearing a sweater that was mine when I was a baby (it's supposed to be a dress, but it was the wrong season to fit as a dress).
Evan going very high on the swings. He's too afraid to go that high on the "big boy" swings, but feels safe in the baby swing.
Visiting Grandmother and Granddaddy (because they don't get enough of us during the week). Chloe is meeting Stoney for the first time. And please do not look too closely at what my son is wearing. Yes, that would be a pajama top with some athletic pants that are WAY too short for him. Sometimes it is just not worth the fight, people.
Chloe loves to take Granddaddy's hat off of him and she really thinks she's something when we put it on her. Tomboy, maybe?
Granddaddy and Chloe by the creek. She is reaching for his hat.
It was warm, but not quite warm enough for bare feet little miss!
Evan poses for a rare picture. Notice how I did manage to get a real shirt on him here.... but if you look closely, his pajama shirt is underneath the real one. I mean, what do you do with a kid who cries and says a long sleeved t-shirt itches and scratches him? Is it possible to find a more comfortable shirt? At least for now, I can dress my daughter up, and she can't complain.
My little dollbaby.
My men headed to play some baseball in the woods. Why on Earth would you play in the two acres of flat yard that we have, when there is a little patch of trees you could play in?
"The Greatest"
Evan going very high on the swings. He's too afraid to go that high on the "big boy" swings, but feels safe in the baby swing.
Visiting Grandmother and Granddaddy (because they don't get enough of us during the week). Chloe is meeting Stoney for the first time. And please do not look too closely at what my son is wearing. Yes, that would be a pajama top with some athletic pants that are WAY too short for him. Sometimes it is just not worth the fight, people.
Chloe loves to take Granddaddy's hat off of him and she really thinks she's something when we put it on her. Tomboy, maybe?Granddaddy and Chloe by the creek. She is reaching for his hat.
It was warm, but not quite warm enough for bare feet little miss!
Evan poses for a rare picture. Notice how I did manage to get a real shirt on him here.... but if you look closely, his pajama shirt is underneath the real one. I mean, what do you do with a kid who cries and says a long sleeved t-shirt itches and scratches him? Is it possible to find a more comfortable shirt? At least for now, I can dress my daughter up, and she can't complain.
My little dollbaby.My men headed to play some baseball in the woods. Why on Earth would you play in the two acres of flat yard that we have, when there is a little patch of trees you could play in?
"The Greatest"
My dollbaby, take 2.
"I love the feel of the sun on my face!"
Evan hiding from the paparazzi. When you are as famous as he is, it is difficult to escape the press, especially your mom.
And we got some hardwood floor down, but we are a ways from being finished there. But, I can already tell I'm going to love it!
"I love the feel of the sun on my face!"Evan hiding from the paparazzi. When you are as famous as he is, it is difficult to escape the press, especially your mom.
And now, for the best "inside" moment of the week..... Are you ready?
TA-DA! My beautiful, new laundry room! And the best part is the working washing machine and dryer that I have been without for two weeks!
And we got some hardwood floor down, but we are a ways from being finished there. But, I can already tell I'm going to love it!
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