Recap

Several happenings as of late:

I fell off the wagon. Er, I mean, the treadmill. I got off a couple of weeks ago and I can't bring myself to get back on. It started out innocently enough. I hurt my neck, so I took a mini break from exercising. I fell back into old habits. The ones that don't involve sweat or tennis shoes. I felt joy seep back into my life. It was then that I realized my treadmill was only bringing me despair. Thus, I fell off the wagon. On purpose. I'm trying to harness all my mental powers to will me back on. I'll keep you posted.

***

There are many things I love about Texas. There are also many that I don't. But this makes me happy:
There are more trees in Houston than people. I'm serious. It's beautiful. This live oak tree is at the entrance of my neighborhood. It's breathtaking, no matter how many times I look at it.

***

It's that time of year where I'm thrilled to live here. Today it was sunny and 78 degrees. Gorgeous. Mid November and we can take a walk wearing flip flops. Delightful. Go ahead and be jealous of us Texans. But just keep in mind, summertime is the equivalent of living on the face of the sun. The winter months are simply our reward for not bursting into flames in August.

***

Several days ago, I was at the school and I needed to talk to Makell's teacher. As I walked into the classroom, Kellie took one look at me and loudly stated, "Oh no, not that face!" My mother pride swelled and beamed. I took in the moment as her teacher stared at me with her mouth wide open. I reassured her that this was all very normal.

***

I'm toying with the idea of skipping Christmas. Not the day itself. Just the presents and decorations. Too much effort and money. Whose with me? If we all pinkie swear together, then our kids won't have anything to complain about. It's a group effort. All in. But, if you insist on giving a gift, I've got a treadmill for you.

The Line Is Growing Thin

A year from now she will be in junior high. That thought makes me shiver just a bit. For many reasons. Lately, when I look at her, she just feels, well, older. The other day I found her with her hair clipped up and her music blaring to a song I had never heard.

I watched her from afar for a moment. She sang the lyrics and curled her hair. Before my eyes that line got thinner. You know the line. The one that separates girl from young woman. Little from big. That line in thinning. Pretty soon it will be hard to even see.

Several weeks ago she bounded down the stairs to show me that she had hair on her armpits. Upon close examination, I found two. She then told me that she is going to start putting on deodorant. She now keeps a post-it note by her sink and she makes a little mark on it every time she swipes her Lady's Speed Stick. So funny, this girl.

For a mother, it's somewhat soul changing when those lines of change start to blur. I seem to watch them happen with amazement and also a tinge of sadness for what has been left behind. Yet, she grows. She changes. She reaches. All three of them do. And simultaneously, I too grow and change and reach. The line grows thin, but not so much that it will completely disappear. A part of me will always see her as whole made up of each stage and part. A girl whose light brings life to mine.

A Spoonful Of Sugar

Addie had her Veteran's Day program on Friday. She had the opening part and she performed it with flair. "Addie, smile for me":


"Uh. Try not to look constipated."


"Try again. This time, try and pretend your lips can actually move."


"Ok. One more try. Just look at me and smile normal."


***

On Saturday, we were here:


Mary flies. Chimney sweeps walk on walls. I'm convinced I need a nanny.
Supercalifragilisteixpialidocious!

I Know How To Spell!

Over the weekend, Makell was fretting. She explained (over and over again) that there is a new policy in 5th grade that if you don't have homework completed, enough AR points (reading), etc., you will have to stay in the office until 4:15. Then her eyes got wide as she told me that I would have to come pick her up at the school. I think she was more terrified at the thought of being seen with me than she was of doing her homework in the front office.

By Monday morning, Kellie had asked me to email her teacher at least 17 times. Because she is learning disabled, she follows a different set of rules in the classroom. She was worried that she would be required to complete everything the remainder of the class was required to do. I reassured her that she would not have to go to the office and that I would talk to her teacher.

Later that day, I logged on to read my email. I noticed one from her resource teacher. I opened it and found the following message that was sent from MY email:

makell tolled me that on Tuesday ,Thursday to go to the front office because she dose not have enaf ar points.
she tolled me that she needs 10 points or more.
lisa

The teacher responded to this email without the slightest hesitation. Did she not take a second glance at my spelling!? Did she actually think that I regularly spell 'enaf' that way? She knows me. She has talked to me in person. The fact that this email was not strange to her definitely says a lot about how I normally present myself.

I quickly replied to let her know that Makell was the original writer, not I. She found it hilarious, and then reported that my child had told her that I had asked Kellie to write the email for me. Uh....seriously? Did she take that explanation as truth? Did she at all wonder why I would start a sentence without a capital letter!?

I questioned Makell once she got home. She looked at me and said, "I almost forgot how to spell your name." For reals? There are only 4 letters in it! "Well, I was just nervous that I would have to go to the office." Alright, I understand. Good enaf.

Happy Halloween Ya'll

Funny Bunny:

Ladybug Keagan and Kellie. Don't you like Makell's costume? She refused to wear one. In her own words, "that's a waste of time".
She said she was dressed as...wait for it....Kellie:

The Good Witch:

Ladybug Riley and Sam:

The Chinese Ladybugs. So cute you could just squeeze 'em:

Trick or Treat All Ya'll!

Because I Said I Would

It's been one of those mind-numbing, never-slow-down weeks thus far. I still have 2 more over scheduled days to go. Peaceful solitude looks like an illusion from where I sit. These kinds of weeks just happen to all of us. More often than we would like. Over the last few days, I have felt as if I'm quickly spinning from one thing to the next, without really accomplishing anything. Again, it's mind-numbing. Soul depleting.

After working late last night to finish preparing patriotic vests for Addie's class program, I was at the school by 8:30 am to volunteer in 5th grade for Makell. I didn't leave until 1:00 pm (with more volunteer items loaded in my arms). From there I drove to a visiting teaching appointment. While in my car, I was tired and I wondered to myself, "Why do I do this?" The answer came to me quickly...."Because you said you would."

My thoughts then turned to something I have had on my mind--how I'm treated as a mother. I seem to do, and go, and love, and care for this family, and there are moments when it all feels like wasted effort. Makell slapped me this week. On my face. She had been in a really grouchy mood, and I was tickling her to try and snap her out of it. She got frustrated and slapped me. I was so stunned that I sat still and couldn't say anything. I'm still stunned actually.

That moment has stayed with me and made me examine what I do and how it is received. So, this week I have wondered, "Why do I do this?" My answer...."Because I promised I would." When I looked into each newborn's eyes, I promised. If I had known then what I know now, I still would have promised. To love, to care, to be treated with disrespect, to feel that all I do is invisible to those around me, to do homework with a child who is yelling at me, to read a book with a daughter when all I want is to sit in a quiet spot. Yes, I would still promise. Because of my infinite love for this family of mine. I promise, promise, promise.

So on those days, those moments, or those weeks where I wonder, "Why do I do this?", I hope I can always remember that "I said I would". May those words carry me through all that seems to make me stumble.

Handy Planner

Sam comes home every day looking like this:

And every day, I ask her "Why?" She tells me that she will forget what homework she has, so she writes it on her hand. It is then that I remind her that she has 2, count 'em, 2 planners. Her laptop has a program to track her homework and she also has the one I bought her. It's the planner that she stomped, moaned and wailed for in the isle at Walmart. The only thing she has currently written in it, is birthdays.

I have suggested countless times that she write her homework in her planner instead of on her hand. "You're already using a pen. Why don't you try paper instead of flesh." It's just so logical that I open my eyes wide for emphasis. Sam simply looks at me like I just flew in from Venus.

I think I'm going to start using her other hand to write her messages. During the night I'll use a permanent marker to remind her not to write on her hand. That should do the trick. I really think she'll thank me for it in the end.