Ciao, Bella

My baby sister has added a fifth addition to her home, Miss Isabella Cait. If you'd like to see a bundle of roly poly, feel free to click on the link and greet Miss Bella. Apparently, she was so interested in making her entrance to our universe more grand than either of her brothers and sister, (her youngest brother was delivered on a triage gurney) that she chose the ambulance rolling gurney as the birthing bed, and the hospital parking lot as the labor and delivery room! What a birth. Mom and daughter are making their way towards recovery, although Bella is struggling with a case of jaundice that will require a few more days in the pedatric unit. Go tell her hello! Babies are like puppies and kittens, we love em til their poop starts to stink!

con flick ted

I've been married not quite as long as many of you out there have been. I'm like Leo, a late bloomer, that is when I decide to even wear bloomers. Hate the damn things, always cutting off your circulation, and they are either too small or too large. Perfect isn't even in the vocabulary.

However, I'm not here to talk about bloomers or the lack thereof.

June will make my seven year anniversary. Feeling itchy yet? Let me tell you, if there were any itches to be found, I think it would have happened long before seven years. Why wait seven years to scratch an itch anyway? And if you're going to be itchy, why marry someone you're allergic to in the FIRST place?

Anyway, I lived my life in reverse, I suppose. I had my daughters, reared them as a single mom for ten plus years, and then met my husband. He fit in well, so we decided to keep him. We've been together for about 8 years or so, six of them as dearly beloveds. And while it has been quite a lovely trip for us all, we've had our share of speed bumps, pot holes, and hole in the walls (yes, throwing shoes and chairs across the room can often create holey results). Add three more offspring to the mix, stir and serve chilled over ice and there is my family. Love them. All of them.

A friend of mine went the complete opposite route. She went to college, married, created offspring, became employed, careered, and after 17 odd years...divorced. She's entering the world I left not so long ago. Dating, searching, dividing, and conquering. But the thing is, when you're originally single (completely...like no kids...no ex husband), the "world" is different. Your view on relationships is different. It is easier to date because you don't have that instant reflex of fidelity, commitment, relationship, stop screwing around with other people, kind of attitude. Your attitude on relationships is still on "marriage" mode because for the longest time that is what you had. Get it? It's hard getting back that "single" lifestyle. You probably don't even like the guy you're dating "that" much, but for the last ten to fifteen years, you've only been with one guy, so that is what you know.

Weird, isn't it, when you think about it.

Last week, Kathleen, over at Easy for Me, asked about the differences between solitude and loneliness. I think having that person with you for the longest time, sharing routines, responsibilities, and the bed suddenly up and get can leave you to the path of both. My friend, the one who left her marriage of upteen years, is experiencing both: the peace of solitude that comes from making a decision that was right for her family as well as her, and the loneliness of not having someone there to share with: the day, the night, the waking moments, and the sleeping moments.

So, here's to you, chicky. May you wake up between the sheets and say WTF, I'm cooler than that.

At What Point?

At what point do you decide to make the one decision that will change your life forever? When do you decide that enough is enough and the most you want to make out of life is waking up, caring for your family, and live for YOUR day? When? What makes that final straw final?

I still get joy from teaching. I still can make them laugh. I can still laugh at them. I can still love them...forgive them...grieve with them...teach them.

For the most part.

There are those days...there are "those" days...and there are days like today. Today was tough. For one, I've spent the majority of the week thinking Monday was Wednesday and Thursday was Friday. Makes for a terribly loooonnnnngggg week. To make matters even better (heavy laced sarcasm), they think that teaching just isn't enough, they must also pile on so much paper work that even the trees growing in Brooklyn must be a shakin with enough fear to skin their bark. It's hard to imagine why test scores are flailing when it is more important for teachers to cross their t's and dot their i's instead of getting down to what matters.

Teaching.

Of course, when you are finally able to step in and teach, you have the Little Johnnys of the world sitting in their desks just daring you to be the adult in the class and challenge their snot nosed sarcastic attitudes with sugar and spice and you better treat me nice or I will cross my arms, pout, and refuse to do anything resembling class work until you have to threaten me with detention in which I will catch a fit, call you a liar, and pretend that my mom is going to beat me if you call her on the phone. Yes, that is a true story!

Enough!

When is enough?

Today was enough. . . But just for today. I will be back again tomorrow.

After all the tears, after all the jeers, crossing of arms, eyes that kill...Sixth period came along.

Thank whatever Gods may be for even the smallest of miracles.

Andy danced for us today. I swear I thought he was going to break something, but he just threw himself on the floor and started spinning around in his own semblance of a break dance. I'm teaching my sixth period class to call the principal "School Master." She gets a kick out of it. We get a kick out of calling her that. Small miracles, huh?

Gotta love em.