Some may say that I have been a princess all my life (but I imagine them saying it in not a very nice tone of voice), but I am here to tell you that last night I failed the test, and I am definitely not a princess.
I am with my friend in Ithaca, helping out with baby #2 who arrived 8 days ago. I have been camped out on an air mattress in the living room of their tiny apartment. The mattress gets shoved behind the couch during the day and the room turns into the playroom for the two and a half year old. At night, the toys get put away, and I pull out my bedding. I've gotten used to sleeping on the air mattress, and, so long as it is inflated enough, it is actually fairly comfortable.
This morning, as I groggily put away the mattress before getting the older child ready for preschool, I saw that my wool clogs were still in the middle of the living room floor. I had plunked the mattress right on top of them and slept quite soundly.
I failed the Princess and the Slipper test. A princess I am not. Alas.
I wonder if I have to give back the tiara.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Friday, December 4, 2009
Deflated
I was driving back from the post office this afternoon (sending out Christmas cards, of course, because I am just that organized and anal--but only a few cards that needed to be air-mailed. I wouldn't want my friends over here to know how organized and anal I am. It's not like I already have all the envelopes addressed and am just waiting until it is a bit closer to the actual holiday to send them). I passed a house, the small front yard of which was completely filled with a variety of inflatable Christmas decorations (ornamentations? gaudiness? Not sure what those blow-up things are called), only none of them were blown up. They all lay, deflated, strewn about the lawn.
That family brought me quite a bit of joy, only not how they intended to, I suspect.
That family brought me quite a bit of joy, only not how they intended to, I suspect.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Up and Away... again
Staying true to my (new) self, after five weeks of being in one place, I packed up two weeks’ worth of clothes, gifts, and a pillow into a very small bag, and I boarded a plane this morning. I’m back in Ithaca NY, doing my duty as Best Friend and helping out as baby #2 is due to arrive pretty much at any moment. I’m sure this will be quite the experience for me, for my friend, and for her two-year-old. She warned me to pack my patience. Hopefully that didn’t get squeezed out of the bag by that extra pair of wool socks I added when I saw the weather report.
This morning I received a courtesy call from the Orbitz Customer Care department, three hours before my flight, to let me know that it was on time. If they really cared about me, they would know that three hours before a 7:20am flight is way too freaking early to be calling anyone, especially a woman who has already checked in, is checking no bags, and lives 20 minutes from the airport. I still had an hour and a half left to sleep, and I did not feel particularly cared for when my phone started buzzing, nor now, as I am still attempting to scrape the sandpaper from the inside of eyelids.
Maybe Orbitz was trying to get me ready for two weeks of being in a small apartment with a newborn. God, I hope that my earplugs didn’t get squeezed out by those socks.
This morning I received a courtesy call from the Orbitz Customer Care department, three hours before my flight, to let me know that it was on time. If they really cared about me, they would know that three hours before a 7:20am flight is way too freaking early to be calling anyone, especially a woman who has already checked in, is checking no bags, and lives 20 minutes from the airport. I still had an hour and a half left to sleep, and I did not feel particularly cared for when my phone started buzzing, nor now, as I am still attempting to scrape the sandpaper from the inside of eyelids.
Maybe Orbitz was trying to get me ready for two weeks of being in a small apartment with a newborn. God, I hope that my earplugs didn’t get squeezed out by those socks.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Who Are You?
My horoscope today (not that I follow such nonsense, of course) said that "Sometimes you need to remind [others] of who you are..." Oh, how right it is! The question I have heard many times of late is "Who are you today?" I understand the question (having posed it myself many times to various substitute teachers), but it became funny to me when I actually started to think about it. The easy answer is Chris or Sally or whomever I am subbing for, but periodically I do wonder, Who AM I today?
Do we get a choice in the mornings as to who we will be? Can I be Oscar the Grouch one day, Snuffleupagus another, and Bert (probably closest to my real personality) the next? (Happy 40th, Sesame Street!) What are the factors that make me into one person or the other? Getting out of the bed on the wrong side? What outfit I put on? The alignment of the stars? Or the fact that the dog drooled on my once-clean trousers, someone took the last piece of bread, or I almost got run over crossing the street? Some days any of those events will put me under, and other days they earn nothing more than a shrug and a que sera sera. Can I switch my personality mid-day? (Copious amounts of chocolate seem to help me do that, for better or worse.) And do I have control over who I am each day?
Maybe the question I should ask myself is not "Who am I today," but rather "Who do I want to be today?" The next logical question I suppose would be, "What do I need to do to be that person?"
Tomorrow I think I'll be Halle Berry. I wonder what I will have to do to be her. Probably a lot of sit-ups and a padded bra.
Do we get a choice in the mornings as to who we will be? Can I be Oscar the Grouch one day, Snuffleupagus another, and Bert (probably closest to my real personality) the next? (Happy 40th, Sesame Street!) What are the factors that make me into one person or the other? Getting out of the bed on the wrong side? What outfit I put on? The alignment of the stars? Or the fact that the dog drooled on my once-clean trousers, someone took the last piece of bread, or I almost got run over crossing the street? Some days any of those events will put me under, and other days they earn nothing more than a shrug and a que sera sera. Can I switch my personality mid-day? (Copious amounts of chocolate seem to help me do that, for better or worse.) And do I have control over who I am each day?
Maybe the question I should ask myself is not "Who am I today," but rather "Who do I want to be today?" The next logical question I suppose would be, "What do I need to do to be that person?"
Tomorrow I think I'll be Halle Berry. I wonder what I will have to do to be her. Probably a lot of sit-ups and a padded bra.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Dear Lousi
One of the greatest things about being a teacher of young children (which almost makes up for the bodily fluids projected at high velocity all over you) is the love note. I've really only worked with six and seven year olds, who are in the throes of learning how to read and write, and they are oh, so excited to use their new skills. Younger kids will draw pictures for you, but the older kids will add text. Over the years, I collected a number of paintings, pictures, and notes. (My two favorites were the drawing of me, supposedly putting my hand behind the child's head, but it looked like I was smothering the child, and the "Best Teacher Award" ribbon that a child made for me, to which one of MY students asked why she gave it to me... why didn't she give it to Sally, one of the other teachers.)
Last week, when I was subbing in first grade, at indoor recess I was given a couple of pictures, and one girl (VERY cleverly) folded a piece of paper in half and used scissors to cut a message in it to me, which read "Thank You".
For the past three days I subbed in second grade. I worked with those students a smidge last spring when I came back from my trip, but I didn't know them terribly well. Working with the (slightly) older kids was interesting, for they can (usually) do quite a bit more than the first graders I am used to. (One child commented to me that I "put a lot of space" between my words on the chalkboard. I guess they are slightly better at focusing on words than the younger kids.) While the kids at least feigned sadness at the prospect of me finishing up my term as sub yesterday afternoon, and I did get some hugs on their way out the door, there was nothing in the way of pictures or notes given. (No problem, for I usually "file" the notes in that nice blue plastic tub in the corner.)
Today I am back at school, subbing for the librarian. I had told the second graders this, and one of the girls, whom, as I taught all four of her older brothers, I have known basically since they day she arrived, brought me a note this morning. (I will translate some of the more creative spelling for those of you who might not be quite so fluent in "invented spelling".)
"Dear Lousi,
Thank you for substituting for us. We liked the activity of felt belts. They wore all nice. It was fun. We liked the math.
Love,
M"
Yes, I got a thank you note for being a sub. Any of you who are feeling unappreciated in your jobs, I highly recommend looking into teaching.......
Last week, when I was subbing in first grade, at indoor recess I was given a couple of pictures, and one girl (VERY cleverly) folded a piece of paper in half and used scissors to cut a message in it to me, which read "Thank You".
For the past three days I subbed in second grade. I worked with those students a smidge last spring when I came back from my trip, but I didn't know them terribly well. Working with the (slightly) older kids was interesting, for they can (usually) do quite a bit more than the first graders I am used to. (One child commented to me that I "put a lot of space" between my words on the chalkboard. I guess they are slightly better at focusing on words than the younger kids.) While the kids at least feigned sadness at the prospect of me finishing up my term as sub yesterday afternoon, and I did get some hugs on their way out the door, there was nothing in the way of pictures or notes given. (No problem, for I usually "file" the notes in that nice blue plastic tub in the corner.)
Today I am back at school, subbing for the librarian. I had told the second graders this, and one of the girls, whom, as I taught all four of her older brothers, I have known basically since they day she arrived, brought me a note this morning. (I will translate some of the more creative spelling for those of you who might not be quite so fluent in "invented spelling".)
"Dear Lousi,
Thank you for substituting for us. We liked the activity of felt belts. They wore all nice. It was fun. We liked the math.
Love,
M"
Yes, I got a thank you note for being a sub. Any of you who are feeling unappreciated in your jobs, I highly recommend looking into teaching.......
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Back to Work...ish
I've been back home now for about ten days, and as soon as I returned I got myself lined up to do as much subbing as I can. Four days last week and three (thus far) this week. I think that seems a reasonable amount to work. I mean, I wouldn't want to push myself to extremes or anything.
It is nice to be back at work, for the most part. I love the interactions with all my old friends (although those pesky children do get in the way of my conversations sometimes), I love having things to think about (I actually dreamt of school and lessons last night!), and, believe it or not, I don't even mind getting up in the morning (especially now that the time change has happened). What I DO mind, however, is that, because I see the same people every day and I am expected to have at least a modicum of professionalism, I have to wear different clothes each day, rather than the same outfit for three days. The gall!
The only other (very small) grievance I have is when people see me in the halls and say either "It seems so NORMAL for you to be here" or "I can't get used to you being here." Clearly, their worlds did not stop completely when I left as they were supposed to do. How can anyone's world exist without ME in it? I mean, mine can't...
(Actually, it really is so great and so normal to be back at school, even when I'm subbing in a grade that I haven't taught in 13 years. Fingers still crossed that they'll let me back for real at some point!)
It is nice to be back at work, for the most part. I love the interactions with all my old friends (although those pesky children do get in the way of my conversations sometimes), I love having things to think about (I actually dreamt of school and lessons last night!), and, believe it or not, I don't even mind getting up in the morning (especially now that the time change has happened). What I DO mind, however, is that, because I see the same people every day and I am expected to have at least a modicum of professionalism, I have to wear different clothes each day, rather than the same outfit for three days. The gall!
The only other (very small) grievance I have is when people see me in the halls and say either "It seems so NORMAL for you to be here" or "I can't get used to you being here." Clearly, their worlds did not stop completely when I left as they were supposed to do. How can anyone's world exist without ME in it? I mean, mine can't...
(Actually, it really is so great and so normal to be back at school, even when I'm subbing in a grade that I haven't taught in 13 years. Fingers still crossed that they'll let me back for real at some point!)
Friday, October 16, 2009
Time to Go
Yesterday I packed up all my stuff and started my drive towards my winter stomping grounds. I was not sure about leaving New Hampshire quite yet. I didn't feel like I was quite ready to go. I could still do some work with my brother on the house he's building, and goodness knows that there are projects to do at home. The ocean was still there, needing to be walked by, and the trees were all looking lovely.
But there are people at home with whom I would like to play, and people between here and there who have been chomping at the bit wondering when I would appear. So pack up and leave I did, feeling a little sad about it. And then I woke up this morning outside of Boston and looked out the window.
It was freaking snowing. Yes, actual snow accumulating on my car. The scraper was buried underneath suitcases and boxes. So I just blasted the heat and hit the road. It snowed for the first hour of my drive. In some places the bare trees were white. This wasn't just some flurry. In fact, the radio somewhere in upstate New York was giving us a Winter Storm Advisory. Winter. If I'm not mistaken, the date on the top of this blog post is mid-October, a far cry from winter. Closer to summer in fact. But I guess not around these parts.
I was begrudging the fact that my clothes didn't fit in my backpack, because instead of packing light trousers and a few thin shirts like I had for my trip, I had jeans and sweaters and fleeces and heavy shoes. But now I'm grumpy about the fact that all I have are fall clothes, and what I really need is a pair of boots and a good heavy coat.
It is clearly time to go.
But there are people at home with whom I would like to play, and people between here and there who have been chomping at the bit wondering when I would appear. So pack up and leave I did, feeling a little sad about it. And then I woke up this morning outside of Boston and looked out the window.
It was freaking snowing. Yes, actual snow accumulating on my car. The scraper was buried underneath suitcases and boxes. So I just blasted the heat and hit the road. It snowed for the first hour of my drive. In some places the bare trees were white. This wasn't just some flurry. In fact, the radio somewhere in upstate New York was giving us a Winter Storm Advisory. Winter. If I'm not mistaken, the date on the top of this blog post is mid-October, a far cry from winter. Closer to summer in fact. But I guess not around these parts.
I was begrudging the fact that my clothes didn't fit in my backpack, because instead of packing light trousers and a few thin shirts like I had for my trip, I had jeans and sweaters and fleeces and heavy shoes. But now I'm grumpy about the fact that all I have are fall clothes, and what I really need is a pair of boots and a good heavy coat.
It is clearly time to go.
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