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     Completing projects is something I have always struggled with throughout life. I am FANTASTIC at coming up with ideas and starting new projects. However, judging by the half organized book shelves, unattached hand rails on the stairs and box of paint supplies outside my son's bedroom door, I do a really bad job of following through to completion. Therefore, going into March with a goal to complete a daily Slice of Life was a very lofty goal.

     Here are some of my ups and downs during the month of March: 

• Took one and a half sick days because of a high fever and dizziness
• Attended six doctor's appointments
• Wrote six IEPs and my portion of two ETRs
• Felt physically and emotionally exhausted almost everyday after teaching from home while simultaneously parenting three kids who are learning from home
• Listened to a TEDTalk: 30 out of 31 days
• Swept my house 1 out of 31 days
• Read for 30 minutes: 14 out of 31 days
• Worked out for at least 30 minutes: 13 out 31 days
• Watched every episode of: Casual, Shrill, Euphoria, and The Flight Attendant 
• Listened to My Favorite Murder every Monday and Thursday
• Shopped in-person for the first time in over a year
• Had ZERO intrusive self-harm thoughts
• Meditated for at least 30 minutes: 27 out of 31 days
• Celebrated my 7th grade son making the middle school tennis team

    While this list is in no way a complete list of my March successes and failures, I share this because in the past many of the items on the list would have been detrimental to my mental health. Easily, writing every day would have been the first thing to slowly disappear from my daily routine. 

    

    Today, I celebrate the fact that I wrote EVERY DAY during the month of March. This is something I have never accomplished before. To be honest, something I never thought I would be able to accomplish. I have enjoyed pushing myself to be vulnerable, find humor throughout life moments and reflect on my daily experiences. Reading other writer's Slices of Life have inspired me to try new writing styles and discover new perspectives on living. Being a part of this community of writers has been one of the best things in the my life over the last year. I look forward to continuing my writing streak in the form of poetry throughout April. 

Car Love

     In order to avoid taking time off work for doctor's appointments, I try to schedule as many as possible over my breaks. Currently, I am on Spring Break, so instead of sleeping in I woke up early for a morning appointment. I have never been to this specific office, and it's about 25 miles away.  I wanted to make sure I left early enough in case I took a wrong turn or traffic was bad. 

    Let me back up and share that I bought a new Volkswagen Atlas last summer. However, I haven't really had a chance to drive my new ride. Even in a pre-Covid world, I hardly ever drive. I live directly across the street from where I teach, so my commute involves walking. Prior to the Atlas, I drove a van for six years and when I traded it in, it only had 42,000 miles on it (thanks to drives from Ohio to Florida). We even joked that I should just buy a golf cart instead of an SUV. 

    While on my drive to my appointment this morning, it occurred to me how much I love driving the Atlas. I've never loved driving a car before. I've enjoyed the convenience (side note: why is convenience so hard for me to remember how to spell?) of previous vehicles, but nothing has ever stood out about the feel of driving one. This morning I could feel the wheels on the pavement as I zipped down the freeway. I really noticed the true feel of driving the Atlas when on exit ramps. It handles turns with such ease. I used to laugh when I would hear people say that about their car, but I completely understand how that statement now feels. 

    I arrived at my appointment with plenty of time to spare. I put on my mask and happily headed up the elevator to meet my new spine doctor. 

    "I'm sorry ma'am. Your appointment was rescheduled for next Tuesday at 9am. Didn't someone call you to let you know?" the receptionist hesitantly asked.

    "Ummm...nope," I semi-kindly replied while being thankful the innocent receptionist couldn't see all of my facial expressions behind my mask. 

    While I left very disappointed that I wasn't able to get neck injections this morning, I was happy that at least I enjoy driving my car. 

An Ode to Mental Health

 Slice open my thumb; wash, clean and bandage.

Anxiety, depression - why ignore?

Invisible pain causes more damage.

My brain deserves ease; I aim to do more.

Some wake up happy; I must work for joy.

Daily meditation. Purposeful love.

Medication. Therapy. Need it all.

Today, I praise all the steps I employ.

Done handling mental health with kid gloves.

Bravely able to finally stand tall. 

Dinner Disappointment

 Friday

"Are you okay if I make grilled chicken for dinner?" 

"Sure," I hesitantly tell my husband.

A few hours later, we decided that we were too tired for a home cooked meal. UberEats to the rescue. I think. I honestly don't remember what we had for dinner. I just know we didn't have grilled chicken.

Saturday

"Do you just want to grab a late lunch and do late night dinner?

"But what about the grilled chicken?" I ask.

"Let's have it for dinner tomorrow."

"Sure," I excitedly tell my husband.

We settled on a mid-afternoon lunch of Chick-Fil-A and a late night pizza. 

Today

"We're doing grilled chicken for dinner tonight, right?" 

"Sure," my husband confirms.

We were both starving and ready for a much needed home cooked meal. My mouth was watering as the scent of the chicken wafted through the air. After about five bites each, my husband looked at me and says, "this chicken isn't very good is it?"

"Nope."

"Want me to go to Dairy Queen and get hot fudge sundaes?" he asks.

"Sure," I say suddenly not disappointed by the passed over chicken. 

One Day At A Time

Today.

I put on jeans,

I took them off. 

I put on different jeans,

I took those off. 

Leggings again.

First time in a year,

I entered a store.

One.

Day.

At.

A.

Time. 

What took so long?

Covid;

Depression;

Anxiety.

All of the above.

I think I'm back.

Random Chaos

    Like most humans and pets in the mid-west part of the United States, I am exhausted today. The howling winds kept me up all night. I had every intention of organizing my desk before I signed off for Spring Break. However, I'm too tired to find new homes for the chaos that has become my desk. 

    In looking around my desk, to see if there is anything I could easily rehome, I realized my desk would make me really lucky if I were ever on a game show. I remember watching a game show as a kid, and at the end the host would give away money to people with random objects in their purses. My desk is one giant cluster of random. 

1. Liquid band-aid: Because I just never know when the 10 year old will slice his thumb open on a can of Spaghetti-O's while I'm trying to teach in a Google Meet. 

2. Thought bubble head band: Because I can't read your thought bubble. 

3. Pickle Christmas tree ornament: Because who doesn't have a random ornament from 3 months ago still laying around? 

4. Tiny horses: Thanks SNL. 

5. Stuffed nerve: A gentle reminder to my family not to get on my last nerve. *Bonus points for the rechargeable handwarmer because Four Seasons rooms aren't typically used as a home office.*

Missing Normalcy

Home. Teaching Remote.

Birds chirp. A breeze gently blows.

Quiet, poignant void. 

Tornado Drill

"Just a heads up, we will have a statewide tornado sirens at 9:50am today," I explained to the 6th graders in our Google Meet around 9:35am. "I know it's gross and rainy out this morning, so I don't want you to think the sirens are because of an actual tornado."

Silence. 

"Okay, let's begin the read aloud, and don't forget there will be test tornado sirens in about 15 minutes," I continued.

Silence. 

"wwiiuuwwiiuuwwiiuu," a student writes in the chat as the sirens begin promptly at 9:50am. 

"What's happening?"

"I hear sirens at my house!"

"I have to go. We have a tornado!"

At least the sudden panic was confirmation that the student's microphones really do work. "Remember, it's just a drill. No tornado. No need to panic," I reminded them.

"No, my dad just spotted a funnel cloud!" shouts a random student. 

"Nope. Still just a drill," I repeat. 

"It's so loud! Why are there sirens?" another student asks.

"It's a statewide tornado drill. The sirens normally sound at noon on Wednesday. This is the same thing, but it's happening all over the state at 9:50am," I try to assure them. 

"Guys! I just turned on the news and it's just a drill. There's no tornado," a student assures his classmates in the chat. 

"Yep, just a drill," I say, again.

"Well, I'm going to go in my basement to be safe. I don't have internet down there, so I probably won't be on the rest of the Meet," another random student quickly shares.

It was at this point that I decided to just let whatever happens, happen. In hindsight, I should have made a visual to be presenting on the screen at the time of the drill. However, at least I learned that my students know how to respond safely in case there ever were a tornado during remote learning. 

Deductive Reasoning

     One week let until Spring Break and I am feeling on edge. I can't quite put my finger on what is causing this feeling. Is it:

• the six IEPs I've written in the last three weeks?
• collecting IEP progress monitoring during remote learning? 
• sitting in staff meetings about upcoming, in-person state testing?
• IT band pain causing me to pause my daily run?
• teenage hormones?
• shoulder/spine pain?
• trying a new med, which turned me into a dizzy zombie?
• the fact that our weather has bounced between 25 degrees and 66 degrees in the last few weeks?
• teaching multi-sensory reading instruction in a remote environment? 
• the dogs constantly barking at all things nature?

    While I'm sure my angst is a combination of all of the above, I had an aha moment after a conversation with my 10 year old yesterday. 

Me: What time will your dad be here?
10 year old: Uhhh...6 minutes, no I mean 3 minutes or maybe it's 7 minutes.
Me: What time did he say he would be here?
10 year old: 30 minutes
Me: When did he text you that?
10 year old: He'll be here in 4 minutes, so 30 minus 4 is 26.
Me: What???

    Over the last year, it seems that all major decisions in life have been decided using the same deductive reasoning as my ten year old. Here's hoping that as more people get vaccinated, decisions in life won't be seem as complicated as this conversation with my son. 

Unrequited Love

Squirrels leap and scurry, happy for spring.

Waking from a winter slumber they stretch.

In my yard, easy to find nuts they fetch.

Watching in awe, like Snow White I might sing.

Dreaming of a day they will freely cling.

Hoping my initials in trees they etch.

I sit, stare and in my notebook I sketch.

When they run from me, my heart feels a zing.

Intentions pure, only wanting to pet.

Fluffy tail, tiny nose my heart quicken.

Will today be the day my dreams come true?

Gentle touch only, I swear I'm no threat.

Scampering away, my heart is stricken.

For now, you're my minions and I your Gru.

Future Comedian

     When my husband, Josh, grows up, he dreams of being a comedian. He even has a title for his first stand up show - "Asking for a Friend".  However, he's promised me he would wait until I retire or switch occupations until he goes on tour because so many of his jokes relate to me and/or me being a teacher. He doesn't want to say something that would land me on the front page of the local newspaper. While I appreciate him waiting to go on tour 😉, our home has become a pressure cooker of comedy.  The longer he waits to share all of his humor with the public, the funnier he becomes within our home. 

    Here's just a sneak peak into the daily comedy show that happens in our home.

     Josh was able to get his first Fauci Ouchy this past Thursday, thankfully. On Friday, my, at times, very serious dad text him to see how he was feeling after his first shot.  Josh told him he was feeling fine, but wasn't sure if he should be concerned with this reaction with his arm. 😂

6 Word Memoir

 Today, lupus brings tears. Invisible pain.

Negotiations

10 y/o: Look what my teacher gave me!

11 y/o: I'll buy them off of you for $3.

10 y/o: I'll give you two for $6.

11y/o: That's not a fair deal.

10 y/o: Ok, $5 for one of them.

11 y/o: I have an idea. We will both turn around and close our eyes. I will put money in my hand, and you can put how many candy you want to give me in your hand.

10 y/o: But what if you turn around and have no money in your hand?

11 y/o: No, we both must have something in our hand when we turn around.

10 y/o: No, I'll just keep everything. Bye!

11 y/o: But my birthday is on Monday! Please!

10 y/o: No thanks. Bye.

Curls

     "Your curly hair is so pretty. How do you style it?" asks a random stranger.

    "I just try not to anger the beast," I chuckle in response.

    Taming my curls is a process that I am still trying to master. I have tried the Curly Girl method. I own every Deva Curl product ever created. I can scrunch and plop with the best of them. Despite many failed curly hair attempts, I actually think I am very close to mastering the process of frizz-free hydrated curls. So far, the magic answer for me involves a hair mask, lots of product in soaking wet hair, fishnets, a silk hair bonnet and sleep. Simple enough. 

    We have been strictly quarantining for the last year, which means no hair cuts. During that time, my 10 year son has discovered a love for growing his hair long. During that time, I have discovered that he has inherited my luscious curls. With that being shared, I have to admit that I have NO IDEA how to help him style his curly hair. He's a big fan of the wild poof.  I've decided that as long as he is confident walking around looking like a mini Hugh Jackman from Wolverine, I'm not going to stress him out with style tips. 

   

    

Puberty

    "I'm going to have Josh show you how to shave this weekend," I told my 13 year old son.

    "Mom," he muttered.

    "You have hair growing above your lip," I explained in a nonchalant tone. 

    "Mom."

    "You are thirteen. Puberty is normal. Anything else you want to talk to me about related to puberty?" I excitedly asked.

    "No."

    "Oh, would you rather talk to Josh about puberty?"

    "No."

    "Puberty is exciting! I'll gladly talk to you about it!"

    "I have class. Bye."

    Puberty was such a taboo topic in my home growing up. I was raised by a fiercely Catholic, farmgirl mom. I knew how to preg-check cows. I knew all about artificial insemination of cattle. I knew how to castrate a bull. However, human puberty was not something that was ever discussed. 

    Puberty is not a taboo topic in our house. My husband and I openly talk about all things puberty in front of our kids. They might not always appreciate our conversations while eating dinner, but we want them to know that puberty is normal. 

    Now, I just need to figure out how to survive parenting with the normal hormones that come with puberty. 

Surprise Puppy

     "Can we get another dog?"

    "Nope," my husband replied. "We already have two, and we have no need for another dog."

    "There's always a need for one more dog," I chuckled. 

    A few weeks after this conversation, my husband headed off to spend a week in Outer Banks without me. Okay, so he went for a work trip. However, I was still stuck in Ohio while he was basking in the glory that is the beach. 

    "All I need is a yes or no answer. Would you be mad if I adopted a dog while your were gone?" I asked over text message.

    "I'm driving right now. Let's talk about this later. I love you!" was his quick response. 

    I waited a few days for "later" to happen, but later never came. So I decided that no news was good news, and started to browse local animal shelter websites. I fell in love with every dog I saw. However, I needed to find the perfect mix for our family. We currently had a 3 year old German Shepard/Akita mix (90lbs) and a 4 year old Chihuahua/Terrier mix (15lbs) . If I was going to "surprise" my husband with a new dog, I would have to find one with a fun personality and no larger than 40lbs.

    After hours upon hours of browsing online, I finally stumbled upon Lincoln. He was sweet 8 week old Border Collie mix who was looking for his forever home. I was just going to go look at him. I wasn't going to adopt him. We don't need another dog. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?

    Well, it turns out the worst that could happen is that I would adopt our third dog without telling my husband. He was just too sweet to resist. After researching border collies, I knew he would be the perfect addition to our already chaotic household. 

    It has been two years since I secretly adopted Parker (formerly known as Lincoln) and I couldn't imagine our life without him. So what if the mix part of his breed is Great Dane? So what if he is just shy of 70lbs when he was only supposed to be 40lbs? 

    Seriously, who could resist this sweet face?

    I have since been put on a pet diet by my husband. No more pets until the next Leap Day (or until he goes out of town again 😉 ). 

Covid Limerick

One year ago our lives became remote.

At times it has been hard to stay afloat.

Online is how I teach.

Silent dreams of the beach.

Instead, I'll just do yoga with a goat. 

Tennis Haiku

Parenting is hard.

Coaching tennis is an ace.

As one, double fault.

Ashes on the Bookshelf

     Five years ago today my husband said goodbye to his dad. It was a chilly, yet sunny, spring day when we got the call that his dad had not opened his beautiful blue eyes all day. After having Hospice care at his home during the previous two weeks, we knew this call was coming. We headed out to the farm, so that the Hospice nurse could go home and get some rest while we spent the day taking care of him. Josh, my husband, and I fell asleep on the couch shortly after we gave his dad meds to ease his pain. However, Josh was too restless to nap, so he woke up to folder laundry and watch an old TV show.  While folding laundry, he heard birds singing outside and in that instant he knew his dad was gone. Josh went to check on his dad and his instinct was correct. His dad peacefully passed away as the birds were chirping about new life outside. 

    Most people that I know grieve through anger or tears. This would not describe my husband, at all. Josh uses humor to help him cope and grieve through pretty much every situation in life. We had prepared our kids that when his dad passes away he would be cremated. I thought we did a good job explaining what cremation meant to our then 5, 6 and 8 year old kids. I didn't. As soon as I had a free moment, I sent a quick text message to the kids letting them know that Grandpa Tom (who they never had a chance to meet) had passed away a few hours prior. Autumn was only 6 years old at the time, but sent a response that we will always remember.

 "Oh, I'm sorry. Is Josh sad? Did they cook him yet?" 

    This is only one of MANY jokes our family has made to help Josh grieve the death of his father. After "cooking" his dad, his ashes now live on our bookshelf. The eventual goal is to have his ashes spread at Niagara Falls. However, until we are able to organize a trip between Josh and his brother's families to Niagara Falls, Grandpa Tom lives and travels with our family. He even made a trip to Cocoa Beach, FL. and Disney World about a year after his passing. For some people, this humorous relationship with death feels uncomfortable. However, in Josh's case humor is exact what he needed to properly grieve. 

   

Refried Beans and NyQuil

     Last night I took some NyQuil and laid down for bed around 8:00pm. Shortly after getting comfortable in bed, my 11 year old wanders to my room and snuggles into bed next to me. They asked if we could watch some TikTok videos together. I love hearing them giggle at some of the ridiculous videos on TikTok, so I gladly opened the app. 

    Next thing I know it is 9:15pm and I am running downstairs with my 13 year old and 11 year old behind me. I told them we MUST find a can a refried beans to see if the TikTok that we just watched is real. (TikTok of floating beans) I found said can of refried beans and promptly placed it on the center burner of our gas stove. The kids are still just starring at me in amazement because I'm normally a stickler for a 9pm bedtime. However, NyQuil told me that making refried beans rise out of a hot can was WAY more important than an appropriate bedtime for the growing humans. 

    Fast forward fifteen minutes...we now have boiling refried bean water, but no movement from the actual glob of beans. My 11 year old is very worried that the can is going to explode and hurt me. The 13 year old is explaining the science and changing of states of matter behind why the refried beans are going to rise up at any moment. My NyQuil induced brain is realizing that I need sleep more than I need floating refried beans in my life, at that moment. So I turn the burner off and promise the kids we would resume our bean filled excitement in the morning.

    Normally, the 11 year old wakes up about 3 minutes before logging into their online classes. Not this morning! They were up a good forty minutes before they needed to login to class, and they were determined to finish the bean experiment. I turned the burner back on and we proceeded to wait. Half an hour later and still no floating beans!! At this point in the experiment, I realized that my house was beginning to smell like burnt refried beans. It was at that point, I turned the burner off and gave up on our floating beans. Now I have a house that smells like burnt refried beans and two sleep deprived middle schoolers. 

    Oh the joys of parenting on NyQuil!

White Knuckles

     The death of Princess Diana was a major event in my childhood. I remember listening to the radio as I was getting ready for church, and I heard the tragic news of her car accident. My mom let us skip church that morning (one of the only times in my entire life) because she was in shock and couldn't turn off the news. Needless to say, I have grown up with a passive interest in the lives of Prince William and Prince Harry.

    Typically, I don't tend to read current events or news related to celebrities, so the night of the Harry and Meghan interview I didn't turn it on. After reading several of my friend's commentary on Facebook, I was curious to hear about Meghan's experience with her mental health. In the same breath, I was scared to watch and learn her story, so I made sure to do so with my husband by my side. 

    When Meghan shared with the world that she believed "life would be easier for other if she wasn't here," I knew I made the right choice to watch this with my husband. I had an instant lump in my throat and tears silently ran down my cheeks. One short year ago, I said those same words to my husband. Looking back I can't imagine how scared and helpless he must have felt. Meghan went on to describe going to a Royal event the same evening that she admitted to Harry that she didn't want to live anymore because she was afraid to be alone. Fall of 2019/Winter 2020 was my Royal event. There were nights I cried alone, and asked my husband to cancel social gatherings because I just wasn't feeling well (aka...I didn't feel like living, so I didn't want to be around other people who enjoyed living). I pleaded with him to stay home with me because I didn't want to be alone. 

    Meghan went on to describe looking at a picture from that same evening. She zoomed in at Harry's white knuckles around her hand. He was squeezing her hand so tight because he was so scared for her well-being.  All of this was happening with smiles on their faces. This moment resonates with me as I think back to my own husband's white knuckles of protection. I was in therapy. I was trying to get help, but it wasn't working. We both put on brave faces and white knuckles for the public, but in private all I could do was cry while he held me. 

    During this time, I just wanted to be "normal". Since this time, I have learned that I am exactly who I am supposed to be. I am beyond thankful for my husband's white knuckles and patience as he encouraged me to take time to fall in love with myself all over again.

Dirty Laundry

     

    It's been 11 months since my kids have visited my mom's house. Her goat farm is only 45 minutes from our house. Since her and I are both high risk for Covid-19, we haven't been able to visit with each other. After the world shut down last Spring, my kids spent one week at a time staying on her farm. However, when she went back to work in June, the visits had to stop. 

    Fast forward to this week, and both of us now being fully vaccinated, the weekly visits can resume! Yesterday, I told my 10 year old to pack his bag because Mimi was going to pick him up at lunch today, so that he can spend a week with her and the goats. I was sitting peacefully in my room reading as he was humming to himself while packing his bag. Suddenly, I heard stifled giggling and knew something was up, but went on reading my book. Next thing I know, he is walking into my room with a pile of laundry taller than his head.

    "Well, at least I've solved the mystery of where all of my pants disappeared to," he gleefully proclaimed from my door!

    "Umm...is that all dirty laundry?" I questioned. "And where did it all come from?"

    "I must have forgot to unpack my suitcase from when I went to Mimi's house last year," he mumbled through the pile of dirty laundry.

    Not one bit of me was surprised by this discovery. So much of the last year we have been in Groundhog's Day mode. This gleeful discovery of dirty laundry gives me hope that a newness of living is on the horizon. 

Squishmallows

     

    My daughter will be 12 in a few weeks and one of the items of her birthday wish list (picture a list longer than a CVS receipt) is a cow or frog squishmallow. No big deal. How hard can one be to find? IMPOSSIBLE.

    I remember hearing stories about the Cabbage Patch doll Christmas of 1984. During the mid-1990's there was Tickle Me Elmo and beanie babies. However, since having my own children starting in 2007, I can't recall any crazy toy trends. Are squishmallows the Cabbage Patch doll of 2021? 

    Naively, I thought I would be able to find one on Etsy or Mercari. Woah. I can find them on there, but I refuse to pay $200 (that's the resale mark-up price) for a 5 inch squishmallow that will fade off into the world of dog toys in a few short weeks. 

    Never did I think my first trip to the store in over a year would be to search for a cow stuffed animal. Shockingly, after being stuck inside for over a year, I am actually looking forward to searching for this stuffed creature in-person. 

Bonus Mom

     Step parents have been a part of my life since I was 9 years old. The relationship with my step-mom has been hit or miss throughout the years. Never did I think I would be a step-mom, but that all changed when I married my husband in 2016. I wish I had nothing but positives to share about being a step-mom, but sadly that's not the case.

    However, today isn't a reflection about me being a step-mom or my own step-mom. Today is a reflection about my three children's Bonus Mom. She has been an active part of their lives for the past 6 years. When she was dating my ex-husband and I knew it was getting serious, I sent her an email welcoming her to the kid's lives and giving her permission to be an active decision maker and participant in their lives. Did she need my permission to be in their lives? Nope. My intention was to make it clear that it takes a village to raise kids and I was happy that she was a part of my children's village. I have always taught my children that she is just as much an adult in their life as compared to their dad or myself, and that they need to follow her rules they same they would follow ours. While this was difficult for me at first, it has made for such a peaceful divorce transition for my kids. 

    My daughter has been dealing with some things lately, and her Bonus Mom sent me a text over the weekend about it. She wasn't asking for advice, but wanted to make sure how they were handling things at their house was consistent with how we handle things at our house. I shared some resources that I am using and she was thankful. I am beyond grateful for the relationship my kids and I have with her because I couldn't imagine co-parenting with just my ex-husband. She has made co-parenting easier, and I wish more people could experience this type of co-parenting.

Penguin Knees

     

    Despite my intense fear of birds, I can name a bird by hearing it's bird call and then state all kinds of weird facts about them. Growing up my step-dad was an avid bird watcher. No matter where we went he would talk about the birds around us. Nature hikes were silent because if we talked we would miss the nature in the hike. This provided a lot of time to listen for birds, and then learn about them. 

    This morning while my kids were eating cinnamon rolls, I was lovingly explaining why Blue Jays are the assholes of the bird world. They are just mean. Okay, so that's just the life cycle, and it's in their nature to be mean. That does mean I want them chasing my squirrels or killing my blue birds though. 

    While I was ranting about my dislike for Blue Jays, my daughter randomly tells me that penguins have knees. Uhhh, what?? I quickly corrected her and told her that owls are the ones with the funny looking legs underneath all of those feathers (seriously, look up owl legs if you've never seen them). She was insistent that penguins have knees. So, I asked Alexa about penguin knees, and it was confirmed that they do indeed have knees. Now I was curious about penguin knees, so I had to search for a picture.  

Woah. Penguins are funny looking creatures underneath all of that cuteness. 

Hunger Game Brownies

     "Mom, can Gavin and I make brownies?" 

       The brownie saga started as with such an innocent question that turned into the biggest drama of the day. The boys fought over every single step of making those brownies.

    "I want to put in the water!"

    "They don't need water!"

Me: "Yes, they need water."

    "Mom said the tablespoon is the biggest measuring spoon in the drawer!"

    "This is the biggest one in the drawer!"

Me: "That's a cup. Not a tablespoon."

     "Let's add a fun ingredient!"

    "It says we can add fruit."

Me: "I will cry if you put fruit inside those brownies."

In the end, the brownies turned out to be absolutely delicious (without any adding surprises). However, I feared today was going to end with a Hunger Games style death tribute over a brownie making disagreement. 

Exhaustion

     I don't want to write today. Not one ounce of my body feels like writing. Every ounce of my body feels like going back to bed. The sun is shining and the birds are chirping. I should be excited that it's Friday. Nope. I'm excited to go back to bed. 

    I knew when I went to bed last night that today was going to be a long one. I lathered myself in arthritis cream while whispering, "it puts the lotion on it's skin". Arthritis cream at night is a sure sign of an exhausting day to follow. I feel like someone hit my knuckles with a hammer while I was sleeping. However, I am determined to keep my routine. I am determined to keep writing. I am determined to go back to bed. 

Replacement Words

     Hearing the phrase, "I accidentally..." from people makes my head spin. Are there times in life when accidents happen? Absolutely? However, the older I get the more I learn that accidentally really means impulsively. 

    My daughter sent me a text me a few weeks ago and told me that she accidentally cut 3 inches off her hair and gave herself bangs. Nope. That wasn't an accident. A few days later she told me that she accidentally cut holes in the knees of her favorite pair of jeans. Again, that would be impulsive and not accidental. 

    As I think about my 6th grade students, I realize that accidentally is a word that frequents their vocabulary. Lately, I've been encouraging them to reflect on the difference between accidental and impulsive. I'm hoping that this slight shift in vocabulary will help them learn to become more reflective about their intentions and actions as they move through life. 

RIP Pumpkin

 "Mommy, can I call you in a minute? It's really, really important!"

"Of course!" I responded while also knowing that "really, really important" can vary anywhere between I started by period and look at my drawing. 

As I answer the video call from my 11 year old daughter, I can't tell if she is laughing or crying. She walks over to the hamster cage at her dad's house and shows me that it's empty. Not thinking, I ask if he escaped. That's when it dawns on me that she's crying because Pumpkin the Hamster has died. She is distraught and almost inconsolable. Her text to me before going to bed echoed her thoughts on Pumpkins death, "First I have a fight with my friend and now Pumpkin is dead. This is the worst thing ever!" The death of a pet is a tragic loss for her 11 year old brain.

In the midst of my 11 year old crying, I get a text from my 10 year old son, "Mommy I have sad news pumpkin died: ( she was not breathing when I came into Autumn's room. RIP Pumpkin." I immediately text and ask if he's okay. "Yes, it's sad, but she lived a happy life." The death of a pet is just a part of life for his 10 year old brain. 

I hadn't heard anything from my 13 year old son, so I text him to make sure he's okay. "Yep, but I think we should have pumpkin pie for dinner tomorrow." I can't help but laugh. The texts don't stop rolling in, "does this mean I can get a lizard now?" "Wonder if Daddy will put Pumpkin in the garden with the other Halloween pumpkins?" The death of a pet is dealt with using humor for his 13 year old brain. 

It amazes me how the same situation elicits such different reactions from my own three kids. Their brains will never stop leaving me in awe. 

One Year Later

One year later, I color in my emotion square for the morning. I am feeling anxious today. 

One year later, I feel anxiety, but work through it. 

One year later,  I know that I need to do the work everyday in order to be happy.

One year later, I still have moments where I lapse into my own thoughts. 

One year later, I have to schedule in mindfulness to my daily routine; like others might schedule physical exercise. 

One year later, I make a choice each day to be alive. Not just alive, but living. 

One year ago, I walked through the doors to my future. 

One year ago today, I didn't think I wanted to be here anymore. The only emotion I knew was hopeless.

One year ago today, I was scared. I didn't know if I had it in me to get better. 

One year ago today, I thought I needed to be fixed.

Today, I still struggle. 

Today, I know that I don't need fixed.

Today, I know that I want to be here. 

Today, I am living.

Write One Word

        In January I started tracking my habits and emotions using a bullet journal. One of my favorite pages for each month is "Write One Word". Each month I have decided to focus on one word as my theme for the month. 

    January I focused on permission. I wanted the daily reminder to give myself permission to be human. So often I find myself feeling guilty for saying no, not knowing enough, not doing enough or being too emotional. Giving myself the remainder daily that I have permission to not be enough is giving myself permission to be human.

    February I focused on agility. I watched a TedTalk about having emotional agility and it really spoke to me. I enjoyed the idea of being agile with my emotions, and learning to be emotionally flexible in all situations.

    This month I am focusing on mindfulness. I don't want to ignore my constant, at times whirlwind, of thoughts. However, I want to practice being at ease with my thoughts. My goal is to focus on being okay with just being in the moment with my thoughts without acting upon them immediately.