All Rileyed Up

Happy New Year to everyone! I’m looking forward to 2010, as 2009 was a very long year for me. I considered writing some sappy reflection on the past year, but lucky for all of us, I didn’t have the time. Instead, please enjoy my reflections on the year, courtesy of words that ought to be banned.

shovel-ready, as in “In 2009, I never once heard this term. I guess nothing in California is shovel-ready.”

unfriended, as in “If you unfriended me in 2009, I wouldn’t know because I don’t care enough to check. But in 2010, you better watch it — I’ll stalk you if you dare unfriend me.”

stimulus, as in “If you added together all the times the word stimulus was uttered negatively by Glenn Beck and positively by Rachel Maddow in 2009, who would win? (And more importantly, what would they win?)”

Obamacare and Obamanomics, as in “See above.”

sexting, as in “In 2009, I learned that sexting is only a pleasurable experience when it involves high profile celebrities that you can blackmail, sue, or at the very least, publicly humiliate.”

tweeting, retweeting and tweetaholics, as in “I still haven’t gotten the hang of Twitter.”

bromance, as in “Hey, what’s wrong with bromance?”

teachable moment, as in “2009 was one big teachable moment for me, or as the phrase was previously known, life.”

chillax, as in “Dude, chillax, all I said was sexting would be cool if it involved a public figure. You don’t need to turn this into some teachable moment and unfriend me and all that.”

transparently and toxic assets, as in “I don’t know how anyone takes the word assets seriously anyway. Combining it with toxic was transparently someone’s lead-in to the world’s biggest butt joke.”

too big to fail, as in “Nothing is too big to fail. Not even someone’s toxic assets.”

app, as in “I wish they had an app to friend me with a public figure whom I could involve with a little sexting and then blackmail for money. Hopefully, he would later view the experience as a teachable moment.”

in these economic times, as in “For those of you disappointed in ths post, all I can say is that in these economic times, I have to work with the material given.”

Onward, 2010!

We go to Chili’s. We get a balloon. Little No Limit is overjoyed. As we walk to the car, she accidentally lets go. Oh, the tears. “My ballooooooooooonnnnn…” So long, balloon, and thanks for all the laughs.

We go to Chili’s. We get a balloon. We tie it to her! She names the balloon Bernie. We go to Target. The tie comes undone while we are walking around and the balloon is just too high to even jump up and get. I’d have to climb a shelf, and I just don’t think they’re sturdy enough for me to do that. Oh, the tears. “My ballooooooooooonnnnn…” echoes through the toy aisle. So long, balloon, and thanks for all the laughs.

We go to Chili’s. We get a balloon. We tie it to her, double knots! She names the balloon Bernie. We go to Target. She happily introduces “Bernie” to the toys in the toy aisle. One of the toys apparently doesn’t like Bernie. POP! Oh, the tears. “Beeeerrrrrnnnniiieeee…” So long, balloon, and thanks for all the laughs.

We go to Chili’s. We get a balloon. We tie it to her, double knots! We don’t go to Target! We go to OSH because I had promised the kids a new plant because their Venus Flytraps died. They chose cactus plants. Did I just admit to buying a cactus when she had a balloon? Yes, I did. I suppose I deserved what happened next… Oh, the tears. “The cactus killed my balloooooooonnnn…” So long, balloon, and thanks for all the laughs.

Why do I continue to get the balloon? It’s like Dubya said,

“Fool me once, shame on — shame on you. Fool me — you can’t get fooled again.”

I’m taking a class right now on literacy instruction and the last discussion question requested we write a song/make up a poem/create a collage that indicated what we’d learned about literacy and some of our thoughts on it. I wrote new lyrics to the tune of It’s the End of the World as We Know It by REM because let’s face it, no one ever knew the lyrics to that song anyways (except “Leonard Bernstein!”). I included the video for you to press play so you could follow the lyrics along with the song (plus, it IS a good song…)

“The Whole World’s A Good Book, Let’s All Read It”

Reading, it starts with the parents, kids, and time for storylines
Twenty minutes every day.
Then the kids come to school, listen to their teacher
Who meets the kids’ needs, individual and group needs,
Checking on their phonics, spell this, rhyme that,
Also check on fluency, reading words, sight words,
On to work on comprehension where it helps to know
that having any background knowledge means so much.
If that isn’t coming in a hurry don’t get worried, you can build - it - up.
Team by team the readers read aloud and discuss.
Look at them analyze!
Fine, then,
Uh oh, student’s slow,
regulation for the group, this we’ll do:
modify! modify!
School serves the kids’ needs,
Wanting to see them succeed
Tell me ‘bout the teacher and the students they did right — right.

It’s academic, episodic, teach, read, read, teach,
feeling… pretty… bright.

The whole world’s a good book, let’s all read it.
The whole world’s a good book, let’s all read it.
The whole world’s a good book, let’s all read it.
Now start page one.

All o’clocks – reading hour, time to increase reading power!
Your turn, their turn, now let’s check what students learned.
Teaching by modeling and scaffolding, writing time.
Don’t forget to escalate when you take the tests from State!
Teach them science, social studies
Background, background,
Don’t be in a rush, rush.
Uh oh, this means wait time – give them time, question them and steer clear!
A student needs, a student needs, a student needs your faith!
Offer them solutions, offer them alternatives for them to read!

The whole world’s a good book, let’s all read it.
The whole world’s a good book, let’s all read it.
The whole world’s a good book, let’s all read it.
We’re half way through.

(repeat)

If you asked me what I thought of literacy I would say,
Reach them while they’re young,
Expand knowledge,
Always keep an open mind, kids are kids, you’ll need patience.
Draw them in with real life connections, boom!

It’s academic, episodic, teach, read, write — right? Right.

The whole world’s a good book, let’s all read it.
The whole world’s a good book, let’s all read it.
The whole world’s a good book, let’s all read it.
We’ve reached the end.

Four months ago…
I moved to a completely new area.
I got a job in a completely new field.
I went back to school for a completely new degree.

Four months ago…
I had a big transition.
Well, I had three big transitions.
And I had a family going through similar transitions.

Four months ago…
I had things I no longer have now.
I didn’t have things I do have now.

Four months ago…
everything was unclear, and I didn’t like it.

That was four months ago.

Now…

Now is different.
It’s a time for meeting other people’s needs.
And I have met so many people whose lives are so different from mine in ways I never considered.

Now, many things from four months ago are much clearer to me. And better.
Things weren’t so bad after all.
Now, I feel very lucky.

And tomorrow?

Well, to quote another drama queen,

Tomorrow is another day!

The Plan for the Weekend:

Drive to Orange County on Saturday. See family and friends. Spend night at friend’s house. Attend baby shower on Sunday. Enjoy food and conversation at restaurant. Drive home.

The Reality:

It’s never good when your car starts to sound like a lawnmower, I suppose. It also isn’t comforting when the speedometer swings back and forth between 0 and 120 like it’s been possessed. Least exciting of all is when these two things happen simultaneously and you are precisely halfway between home and your destination with no friends or family nearby, nor anything besides a stretch of interstate going through the heart of California ag country (ie, middle of nowhere).

I called AAA for a tow which cost me $4 a mile after the first seven miles, and when your starting point is BFE, you go well over that free seven miles (to the tune of $84 – that’ll teach me for not buying the premier membership).

After dropping my car off, I went to the airport where the only open car rental places in Bakersfield were located. They refused to rent a car to me. I didn’t have a major credit card. I had a credit/debit card. Using a debit/credit card required an additional $200-400 deposit (depending on the car rental place), but that money wasn’t on the card because it was in my wallet. Did that help? No. You remember that old song by Wu Tang Clan where they say “cash rules everything around me”? Well, I don’t think car rental places thought much of those lyrics. Three separate car rental places told me they didn’t accept or handle cash. I had two people (husband, mother in law) willing to give their credit card over the phone and receive and sign and fax back an agreement to them, but no, that’s not acceptable either. Talk about uber-lame.

The tow guy gave me a ride to a hotel which had no problem using my debit card and I suddenly found myself with a free night to myself. Hey, a silver lining! I was looking for that! I spent my free-for-a-night evening vegging out and watching The Express and Sex in the City on HBO. I also discovered a TV show on MTV called America’s Best Dance Crew hosted by the guy on Saved By the Bell (the one whose character dated the girl who went on to star in Showgirls) which was entertaining for about 15 minutes before I got irritated by all the commercials.

This morning, I woke up, enjoyed my free breakfast, went swimming, and watched a lot of CNN talk about health care coverage – can I just say that I love James Carville and Mary Matalin?

Husband and the kids drove 3 hours to pick me up and when we neared home, the kids asked to go to the movies, and I thought to myself, why not. Guess what we saw? G-Force. Guess what else? I laughed. On a weekend like this one, you have to take the laughs that come to you.

Funnier than you’d expect. Assuming you expected it to be stupid.

Did you ever get into a lull where you hadn’t posted for a while and then when you tried to get back into your posting habits you felt compelled to write something of substance, a decision that ultimately resulted in prolonging your ability to post something because nothing you wrote was good enough to be that oh-so-special return post, and then you had to tell yourself to quit overthinking things and just write whatever the hell you wanted because it’s your blog and you do what you want and how much substance went into your old posts anyway?

That dilemma – in addition to moving and organizing the new home, repairing the new home (rather, watching Husband repair things), preparing for my new job, studying for the CSET, dealing with the financial aid office of my college, having both kids home all day long with no new acquaintances out here yet for them to play with, figuring out the new juicer, and considering adding sit ups to my nonexistent exercise regimen – has been occupying my thoughts and time.

It’s certainly those things conflicting with my ability to write and concentrate and not the fact that I have TV again. Oh yeah. Husband signed us up when he hooked up our phone. It has led to me watching lots of silly things which is exactly what I promised myself I wouldn’t do. Among the less silly things I’ve watched was Highlander the original movie. Oh wait, did I say less silly? I don’t deny I enjoyed this movie quite a bit, though I favor the TV series more, but I must point out a ridiculous scene that in addition to pushing the limits of my suspension of disbelief (in a movie that, let’s face it, requires a good suspension of disbelief) indicates what the 80s man considered ideal in an 80s woman: if a man puts a knife in your hands then stabs himself with it while your hands are still on the handle then appears to die then stands back up and explains that he is immortal and cannot die, your reaction would just NOT be to start making out with him. It just wouldn’t.

And now for something completely different: the deer here have a death wish. I swear, I have slammed on my brakes more times in the past three weeks to keep from hitting a deer than I have in the entire rest of my life. Of course, that latter number is zero, so any number would have beaten it. Regardless, the deer here have a death wish. GET OFF THE ROAD!

You talkin’ to me?

Earlier today, I came across the book Imagine a Night by Sarah L. Thomson and illustrated by Rob Gonsalves.

While the cover gave me the slight heebie jeebies, the rest of the book is visually stunning, filled with illusory, surreal images that remind you of the many possibilities the imagination has to offer when given the chance.

Coincidentally, when I visited Maternal Spark today, Heather referenced her love of Dr. Seuss and Oh, The Thinks You Can Think, and asked as her Monday’s Muse that readers take the time to ponder.

At the moment, I’m thinking about those Rob Gonsalves images and pondering an essay in Literary Mama, Motherwriter by Barbara G.S. Hagerty, about her coming to terms with her identities as a mother and a writer. About her love of writing, she wrote:

“What’s so mesmerizing about spending the whole day in a room alone, with just the company of words? It’s the limitless, unpredictable meander of the imagination, the infinity of possibilities, the surprises delivered from various regions of the brain: memory, hunch, and inspiration.”

I love that phrase, the unpredictable meander of the imagination. Indeed, I find that to be my favorite aspect of writing – the journey from what I intended to write to what I actually wrote. I love the feeling in the middle of a freewrite when the story takes over for itself and I think to myself, whoa…

I didn’t see that coming.

Maybe the reason I like the unexpected twists and turns of bringing a story idea to fruition is because I love the unexpected twists and turns of life itself. My mother once me that I’m her unpredictable child. You just never know what I’ll come up with next. And for those of you who know me, you know this fact about me couldn’t be more apparent right now.

See, I’m in the middle of a huge change. It’s so huge I still can’t grasp it enough to write about it. From the outside perspective, I’m moving, I’m starting a new career, and I’m going back to school. When I delve a little deeper, though, I’m nervous, I’m excited, I’m scared, I’m confused, I’m unsure, I’m completely sure, and then some. So in order to be manageable with all these different emotions vying for attention within me, I have to take a step back and look to the bits of wisdom I’ve learned from others. I have to let my mind wander… let it bask in the anticipation of the unexpected.

See this and other Rob Gonsalves pictures here.

While I hate to promote gender profiling, let me just say I am a total woman when it comes to car maintenance. I understand that the transmission, carburetor, and engine are all things that are important to driving, but know no more than that. I can pour oil in my car, know how to use a tire gauge, and am aware of the function of jumper cables, but can’t remember which clips go where.

This particular lack of knowledge turned out to be a problem one time in a library parking lot when a woman asked if I had jumper cables. I said yes, and then I pulled my car up next to hers only to learn that she did not know how to use them either, and so we asked a gentleman entering the library if he could help us out and he responded, “I know how to use jumper cables but I won’t help you because I don’t want to get sued if anything goes wrong.”

Yup. That’s what he said.

Really, dude, if that’s your answer, please just say “I don’t know” next time and avoid the bad ju ju I sent you. Our good Samaritan arrived in the form of a tattooed, bandana-wearing dude exiting the parole building next door to the library (why they chose to situate the parole office and the library next door to one another is beyond me…). He was friendly and helpful and took care of the problem in no time without any concern over me suing him. The experience made me much more open to parolees.

But back to the story at hand. I know very little about cars. Which is why I am so very proud of this fact: I changed my car’s headlight.

Subaru cars require a couple special steps to change a bulb and I didn’t want to mess it up but I also didn’t want to cough up $60 at the Subaru dealership. My friend the mechanic told me I could bring it in to his shop and he’d charge me the cost of the bulb.
Well, it turns out he didn’t have the bulb in stock so he gave me the model and told me to get it at Kragen and he’d install it for me, and I asked him if he could just show me how to do it. So he did. And I remembered. A real triumph. Seriously. Got a headlight that needs changing? I’m your gal.

Two things you should know about the morning bus pickup: the bus usually arrives between 8:50 amd 9am to pick up The Boy, and at 8:55am, I needed to use the bathroom in such a serious not-number-one kind of way that I was clutching my stomach and trying to avoid sudden motion.

Any reasonable person would have just gone into the house and used the bathroom, but like my stomach, I can sometimes behave unreasonably. I stood outside waiting for the bus because I just knew that if I went into the bathroom, the bus would arrive right when I sat down. And who can comfortably take the Browns to the SuperBowl when there’s a bus driver honking his horn outside?

So I’m standing out there, humming, trying not to think of phrases like “dropping the kids off at the pool” or “the turtle’s head is poking out”, and the minutes continue to p-a-s-s. My thoughts move towards regret. Why did I have that extra cup of coffee, why?!!!! I’m now fantasizing about running into the house and going to the bathroom, bus honks be damned! The Boy interrupts my thoughts and asks me if I’ll help him climb atop and walk along the two foot wall that separates our driveway from the sidewalk and street. “I can’t,” I say. “Mommy has to go potty.”

Well, more minutes continue to pass, and I decide the driver is clearly late and I have every right to go in and use the bathroom. So I walk inside, but still fearing the bus honk (it must be a mental thing — why do I fear it?), I call school transportation first to confirm he is running late and hasn’t instead forgotten us.

The transportation rep confirms my driver is runnning late and draws out our good-bye with helpful comments like “Let me see here, maybe I can find out when exactly he’ll get there, I just need to call–”

“No, no, it’s okay!” I say, hoping I don’t sound as hysterical as I feel, “I’ll just wait outside, gotta go, bye!” I hang up and make a run for the bathroom, where I do my business to the tune of The Boy knocking on the door and saying things like, “Mommy what are you doing?” “Are you going poo poo?” (followed by snickering) and “Mommy are you done yet?”

Ah, glorious world of parenting.

No sooner do I finish up than the phone rings. It’s bus transportation and they tell me the driver is outside my house, where he has been for five minutes.

What?

“I-didn’t-hear-anything-are-you-sure-well-nevermind-I’ll-just-go-outside-sorry-thanks-bye.”

I rush to the front with The Boy and there is nothing on the street. I call transportation back, and the rep is like, “He is out there right now waiting for you.”

I say, “I’m standing outside, and I can see up and down the street. There is no one here.”

“Hang on.”

More of those walkie talkie sounds that I always hear in the background when I call school transportation. She gets back on and says, “Sorry, I guess he wanted us to tell you he was on his way. He’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

Ten minutes come and go. It is now 9:30, the time when Kindergarten starts.

I call transportation again. “Hey, is the bus coming here?”

Pause of silence. “He’s not there yet?”

About 9:45pm, the bus finally arrives. Mr. Bus Driver explains that the big hold up was on account of a jammed wheelchair ramp. He had to wait for someone to bring him a replacement bus. “I hope this didn’t cause any problems for you,” Mr. Bus Driver says.

And what does The Boy say?

“Mommy really had to go potty.”

Seventh grade softball. I was never really a strong athlete, but I stuck it out in grade school through basketball, volleyball, and softball. I was somehow under the notion that sports was something everyone was supposed to do. At my small school, tryouts amounted to little more than “show up and you’re on the team.” I spent two years as second baseman and two years as a catcher. I could catch decently, and I could hit the ball well, but the truth is, I was always scared and nervous. Scared about getting hit by the ball, scared of dropping the ball at a pivotal moment, scared of striking out. And all of those things happened at one time or another. Like I said, I wasn’t a strong athlete.

But there were moments. My famous double play when I would catch a power grounder, tag out the girl running from first to second base, then throw the ball to the first baseman to get the hitter out. There were a few fly ball catches that ended some particularly long innings, not to mention some foul ball catches that got the batters out.

And then, there was the homerun.

I have no exciting play-by-play account where it was the bottom of the ninth with bases loaded, blah blah blah, only Mighty Casey DIDN’T strike out. Oh no. Our team probably lost the game (I can’t remember, but my school was a perennial loser when it came to softball). I hit a line drive that flew past the first baseman and right fielder and I ran faster than I have ever run in my whole life (you wouldn’t believe it now, but I used to be a fast runner). It made the whole season of mistakes, tears, and fears worth it, the glory of that one homerun, replete with high fives, cheers, smiles, and a standing ovation in the bleachers.

Doesn’t every kid deserve a chance at that? At overcoming nerves and playing ball?

Frosted Flakes rolled out a program called Earn Your Stripes, where they scoured the country looking for youth sports fields that needed renovation. Out of thousands of nominations from some 700,000+ people, they have narrowed the choices to 100 finalists – 100 fields that need new equipment or have uneven ground or inadequate grass. Stop by and check out the fields, and vote on the one you want to see renovated (votes must be in by May 31). You never know what kid out there is biting their fingernails and sweating and fretting or eagerly anticipating their chance to get on that field and shine, waiting for the play that will linger on in their memory years later, the moment when they were the star.