Fly paper

It's been a long couple of weeks, these last few that lead up to the end of the school year.  Busy, busy, busy all the time and feeling just a little overwhelmed.  Ok, A LOT overwhelmed.

These days, I feel like I'm a fly stuck on fly paper.  I try to wrestle myself free but the more I wrestle, the more I get stuck.

Eww!  Gross!

And I'm stuck there with all my other fly friends, wiggling and watching the others succumb to the stickiness or starvation or whatever it is that finally causes them to breathe their last breath.  And I wonder why I ended up on this metaphor of fly paper. 

Maybe it was the stinkbug I found in my hair today. 

Yep, it was In.My.Hair.

Actually, a student pointed out to me.  Well, she screamed.  Then the substitute teacher in the room also squealed and knocked it out of my hair.  So maybe I'm more feeling like a stinkbug on flypaper...except that's kind of dumb and there are no google images to support that metaphor. 

Life, the universe, and everything...

So, last Friday, I turned 42.  Yep, 2 more than my "magic age" of 40, which was the age my mother passed on and haunted me (well, scared the bejesus out of me) for 39 years and 364 days.  But I passed that milestone and now I'm 42, which, my daughter tells me is "the answer to life, the universe, and everything." 

For you less savvy (read:  nerdy) folk, it's a reference to The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy.

Remind me why I made her a sci-fi nerd?

Duh!  So, she'd watch all 6 episodes of Star Wars with you, Steph!

So, here I am, at the apex of life, the universe, and everything, and I pretty much know I have the answers to absolutely NOTHING. 

Nada.

I'm empty space.

Sing it, Pink Floyd (and your sexual flowers!). 

But I'm not stressing it too much.   Nope, not one single bit....because here's a secret.  NO ONE has those answers.  Not me, not my friends, not my siblings, not my bosses, not people who are twice my age.  And that's ok. 


See, one of the things I love about living (aside from the whole not-being-dead-thing) is that I am always learning, always growing. 

No, not THAT  kind of growing!!!

And it's that growth that keeps life interesting, me interesting.  (you all ARE interested, right?).  Or maybe it's just the wine I've had tonight. 

Because tonight, I feel like I have all the answers to life, the universe, and everything.  But I wish I knew what my questions were...

Ready For Spring

It's snowing again and schools are closed.  As a teacher, I live for snow days, those blissful days of sitting on Facebook all day and reading books and eating until my butt fills up the couch cushions. 

Yeah...like this, except I'd prefer a glass of wine to the beer.

But truthfully, a March snowstorm just depresses me.   I really want spring.  I really, REALLY am ready for summer.  At this point, I want warm weather, lazy days by the pool sipping Sangria out of a box, sunny runs outside, and no stresses. 

Mr. Pool Boy, bring that Reisling over here.

You see, at this point in the school year, we are knee-deep in state testing.  This week started our state math assessment.  We are missing Day 2 today.  I just want it over with.  I just want to fast-forward to June.  I'm not wishing my life away, but I also am one who gets bored with stagnant, and I feel stagnant in the winter.  I would sooooo like to dig out. 

I can see you, Spring.  You're almost here!

Too Soon

This week was a double whammy for two colleagues.  On Monday, the son of one of my co-workers, himself a teacher, was killed on his way to work when his car slid on ice and collided with a private school bus.  He was only 24.  He was someone who had also worked at our school (although I didn't know him personally), so it was a devastating blow to the entire staff, those who knew him and those of us who know his mother. 

Then, on Wednesday, our director sent out a notice that the son of one of the supervisors had died unexpectedly.  He was only 21.  I had worked with her for nearly 8 years at my position at my old school.  She had often talked of her sons.  There has not been a reason given why he died.  Again, a devastating blow. 

These deaths come on the heels of a November car accident that claimed the life of a 17 year old male classmate of my son and not a year after an April car accident that claimed the life of a 16 year old female classmate.  They are almost too much to bear. 

As a mother, I wonder how parents survive burying their children.  My own grandparents buried two of their children before they themselves died (one of them my mother).  I remember my father talking about my uncle's death.  His car hit a brick wall just months after my parents were married.  My grandparents were so bereaved that my mother temporarily moved back into their house to help them through their daily lives. 

I can tell you that each time something like this happens, it awakens that deep fear inside of me.  I have teens.  One of them drives.  Every day that he leaves by himself, I trust that I will see him again.  Every time he works late, I pray he is makes it home safely even though he only works 2 minutes away right now.  I imagine that when my daughter and later my other son drive, I will be the same way.  My worst nightmare is to experience what any of these parents this week and this year have experienced, to have to pick out a casket and a burial outfit and a plot for my child.  I think I would collapse and never get up again. 

But these young men died way too soon.  They shouldn't be gone.  They should be dating and planning weddings and having children and laughing and living.  Their parents should not be getting sympathy cards.  They should not be burying their babies.  They should not have to experience this.  It's just not fair. 

FLEXIBILITY--JUST CALL ME "TAFFY"

I have always considered myself a flexible person at work.  I mean, I chose a profession that demands it by its very nature.  Yet, lately, I find myself increasingly feeling like a piece of taffy...a pulled, chewed up piece of taffy that's stuck to the bottom of you shoe.  I was actually thinking of changing my name to Taffy, but I don't look much like a Taffy. 

Mmm....taffy...

And I'm just a little weary of mimicking confections that get stuck in my teeth anyway.   I believe there is a point where you can be stretched to the point where you border (or even reach) incompetence.  I also think I may be damned close to that level.  I do not think I'm alone.  Even the best taffy, if pulled and pulled will eventually come completely apart.

It's too bad the people who need to actually read this are under a different impression.  

Thank you

For those of you who follow my blog (both of you), my last post was a pre-run jitter-fest in preparation for my very first 1/2 marathon.
 

Yeah, I was worried.  Yeah, I was REALLY worried.  I had my doubts.  13.1 miles.  Thirteen is bad enough, but that extra one tenth of a mile???  OMG!  

But on Sunday, January 20th, all that worry was put aside.  I did it.  13 miles PLUS that one tenth.  Me.  I ran it.  It took me 2 and 1/2 hours to do it (ok, technically 2 hours and 32 minutes), but I did it.  I believed in myself, and I did it.  That's a pretty good lesson. 

But more importantly, others believed in me.  I am so grateful to my cheerleaders--friends and family who believed I could do it even when I didn't believe it myself.  Those Facebook "likes" and comments cheering me on and cheering me after.  The necklace and the sticker with 13.1 on it.  All of those things mean more to me than you all will ever know. So, thank you all.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart. 

Here I am about to cross the finish line--pigeon-toed and exhausted but better because you all are awesome!

A Little Pep Talk

For those of you who follow me on FACEBOOK (or TWITTER or just know me), you know that I have signed up to run a 1/2 marathon on January 20th. 

St. Pete's Beach classic.

Yep--that's what I said...Half...marathon...13.1 miles...

Now, I've been running for quite awhile now.  Probably 5-6 years consistently.  I don't have a runner's body.  I've got a fat butt and chunky thighs and weak ankles.  Up until 3 weeks ago, I had only run over 6 miles at a clip one time. 

I know, I know...

I ask myself this a lot.

I wasn't really.  But that's probably a good thing.  My problem is I think too much...I OVERTHINK too much...and then those little voices in my head start.

Not THOSE voices...

You know the voices.  The ones that tell you that you are not good enough or smart enough or pretty enough or worthy enough.  Those voices that completely kill your confidence. 

I have to admit, my confidence takes a regular beating.  Always has.  I go along fine and then I think, "Maybe I can't do this."  Or someone doesn't like me and I blame myself and figure it must be because of me.  Or I get a small scolding and feel like I am completely worthless.  It's a struggle, but it's one that I have worked hard to overcome. 

So, I'm fighting those voices in my head.  I've adopted my yearly "theme song" to combat the hits to my confidence.  I AM running that 13.1 miles.  I AM going to cross that finish line, if I have to roll over it.  But I'm doing it! 

Here's my theme song.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jukv9Q1eR2g

That's what's going to be blasting on my iPod as I cross.