Sweet Victory Lap

My blue eyed boy is the only student that I had last year who is also in my class this year. He is my "repeat offender". I adore all of my children and blue eyes is a terrific child to have as a repeat student. We recently changed which gait trainer he uses because the previous one needs to be converted to scrap metal and spare parts. The new one is an amazig upgrade, so much better, and because it is different it is like starting over again. So today I decided to run with the good mood he was in and into the gait trainer he went. Well by the time I have all of the straps in place the cutie looks a bit like Pinnochio before the strings are cut but he is standing very nicely. So then comes the time for my song and dance routine. Literally. In order to motivate him to take steps, and not scream like I am engaging in a secret ancient torture method, I jump around, clap my hands, cheer, dance, tickle, and sing. Yes, the other children back away slowly and give me the look that says perhaps they need to refer me for some services. But, today my little one with the blue eyes and stubborn temper took steps in the new gait trainer and laughed, smiled, and gave me his wicked sideways grin. So we took a well earned victory lap around the classroom with me as the clown leading the parade and sweet boy as the best, brightest attraction taking it step by step. Success one smile, one laugh, one step at a time. Sweet, sweet victory!!

Homesick

The end of September brings memories of high school football games starting, of leaves changing color, of crisp mornings and nice autmn afternoons. It does not bring to mind temeratures near 90 degrees, humdity, and the need to wear shorts. I am homesick for a true autumn - one where you sit bundled up in blankets and layers at a small town football game and the longest lines are the ones for hot chocolate and coffee. One where you taste a crisp bite in the air, smell leaves being burned, and feel snug inside a fuzzy sweatshirt. Instead, so far it is August repeated over and over. I am just a bit homesick. These pictures are of an awesome sunset I watched while "back home" in Michigan this summer. I also miss being in a town small enough that there are not always bright lights and crowded living to block your views.
I miss where and, a bit, what I used to be.

Winged Things

This afternoon I decided at the last minute to go to a state park that is not far from my house. It was a beautiful day, far to nice to just spend inside doing laundry and sitting around. So instead I hiked a trail that is around 1.5 miles, give or take for my wrong turn. Along the wrong turn was this bright yellow bush and sitting on it was this little prima donna of a butterfly. She posed for me for over ten minutes and allowed me to get so close I was almost touching her with the camera. It was awesome!! I have thirteen great pictures of her, some with other insects in the picture and some solo. On my return trip by the bush once I discovered I had made a wrong turn she had been joined by her entire family as a dozen or more butterflies filled the air. They were not divas or prima donnas and refused to stay put long enough for me to get anything resembing a decent picture. It was amazing though to be surrounded by so many butterflies going everywhich way! This little one - she is my new best friend!

False Advertising

It is not just incredibly rude but dangerous to tease an exhausted teacher in search of caffeine with a huge Starbucks sign only to have there be a tiny sign in the window of the store (not visible from the road) that says "coming soon". It is not wise to tease one with such a desperate need for both sugar and caffeine that arises from having spent hours trying to contain and then educate preschoolers who want nothing more than to escape whatever limits you provide. Even moreso when said teacher still has a two hour class to attend that requires participation and attention. Starbucks, you have disappointed me. I was willing to sacrifice my soul and more money than you are worth to partake in your over-caffeinated and super-sweet coffee but you were not there. You led me on like a bad date and then dumped me when I needed you the most. Shame on you! So I turned you your closest competition for a rebound and was satisfied with my ice cream based, still heavily caffeinated coffee beverage and drove off to my meeting knowing that I don't need you Starbucks. You are not the only coffee in the sea of caffeine. So there! (Oh, I will see you in two weeks on my way to class - do you think you will be open by then?)

Invisible

I am both incredibly blessed and incredibly cursed with the fact that even though millions of cells inside my body have decided to try to overthrow the establishment there are no outward signs of war. There is no way to look at me and tell that it quite literally takes a village to keep me alive - a village of doctors, nurses, phlebotomists and lab technicians, pharmacists, drug manufacturers, chemists, researchers, and of course family members and friends. It is an incredible blessing because I am allowed to enter into the world on the other side without notice, I am able to keep secret all that rages inside and create an illusion of normalicy. There is an opportunity for others to see me and know me before I reveal to them the rest of my life. I can be more than the quick label of "the sick girl" or "the girl with lupus". Sometimes that illusion is a wonderful blessing because it is an escape for me, a chance to let myself completely forget this reality and submerge myself in the world beyond, in a place where life is not such a balancing act and there can be an easiness. Yet sometimes the illusion is a burden and a weight. When I am having a hard time it is difficult for others to comprehend what is going on because on the outside I appear no different. I am able to "fake it" through the day so it is hard for others to understand why I then go home and collapse into exhaustion instead of going out, running here and there, and being social. Being a good actress and unblemished by the war within makes it confusing - I can chase after my little ones all day and dance with them at circle time but I can not manage to join in with something after work? How do I explain just how much it costs me to do my job, to do what I love and to give everything I have to those little ones every day? How do I decide where the balancing point is in revelation - how much do I share so that others understand who I am and where I am coming from and how much do I keep hidden so that I can have some pretense of normalicy, some refuge from the pity that I detest? Sometimes I think it would be easier if there were something visible that let people know what I have to throw into my bag and carry along each day. Not because I want them to treat me any different, but because then maybe they would understand why I am the way I am - why some days I have lots of energy and others I am just trying to make it through, why I don't always participate in events, why it seems like I sometimes keep to myself, why I am so determined to live here and now, why I can look so good and feel so bad. And then I am thankful for the fact that in spite of everything I do look so good and it is so invisible, for the fact that I can hide it and go out into the world and live at least part of my life as if there were not those issues, for the fact that what looks so horrible written on paper looks so much better in person. A curse can be a blessing, a blessing a curse, amd both a gift when they are invisible.

Free Piggies

Toddler sandals are extremely aerodynamic and fly pleasingly when tossed from a school bus window traveling at 45 mph. Or so I have been told through a series of nods, gestures, and excited squeals by one of the little ones at school this week. The bus driver filled in the gaps as best she could and amongst us all we created an interesting picture. Little boy is picked up first on that bus route and has a decent bus ride to school, so he was nestled all snug in his seat when visions of flying sandals danced in his head. Visions soon blossomed into a full-fledged plan and the bustle of traffic lured him into action. He quickly escaped from his sandals, a skill he has possessed since last school year when I cursed those shoes under my breath and imagined every scenario of destruction but this one. Then with a sudden burst of dexterity he tossed them out the window behind him and set them free to find their own way in the world. He watched them soar and then contentedly wiggled his free piggies, no longer stuck inside of any form of shoe. Some time after their liberation the bus attendant realized that little boy's toes were not in shoes and asked him where he had put his sandals. With great pride he pointed out the window and began to laugh. Thus he arrived at school barefoot and quite proud of himself. We did not know whether to laugh or to scold him and secretly we were celebrating the demise of those wretched sandals. I can only imagine what the driver of the car behind the bus saw because little boy is so small you can not see him in the seat - all they would have seen is an "empty" bus driving down the road and then suddenly two tiny shoes flying out the window. The story they were able to tell that evening at dinner must have been unbelievable!! Poor little boy thought he was going to be able to be barefoot all day at school - surprise! I have quite the stockpile of spare clothing this year and it includes shoes. His free piggies were very quickly strapped back inside of a pair of shoes. However, I made sure that the shoes were taken back one he got on the bus to go home just in case the sound of traffic seduced him again on the way home and he just had to set his piggies free!

Cheap and Easy

I discovered yesterday that while there are many things that can frustrate me during the course of the day, there are even more things that bring moments of joy. Most often these moments come not from big events but from the littlest things. It really does not take much to amuse me, to entertain me, and to bring a bit of joy to a day. Below is a small list of yesterday's moments that made me smile.

* No line at Chipotle when I finally had a chance to go get a meal after work (my first meal of the day at 4:30pm so is it breakfast, lunch or dinner? brunner?)

* making it to the gas station (and thank God for the bright red Idiot Light that reminds me that yes, genius, the car does indeed need gas)

* seeing one of my little ones from last year come to her first day of school this year

* being able to carry three lunch trays down the hall and not spilling a drop

* listening to an adult try in vain to correct the grammer of a three year old

* finishing a three step (over three days) art project with all of my little ones

* watching my little ones swing on their stomachs and "work up the courage" to lift up their legs

** seeing the other children at school say hi to my little ones and treat them not just with tolerance but acceptance and appreciation!!! This will make my day, week, month, and year!!

A Rose By Any Other Name...

Would a rose by any other name smell as sweet? Would it be as alluring if it was called stinkweed instead? What about if every time you smelled it you sneezed and coughed? How much of what we think "smells good" is cultural, how much is learned, and how much is hard-wired into everyone? I would hope that spoiled food smells bad to everyone, but for years my brother would eat things that had more hair on them than Robin Williams and claim that they were still good. My theory that dirty diapers smell bad to everyone is shot down by the kids who wear them in total oblivion to the fact that they can clear an entire room just by entering with that loaded weapon. Trash composting and turning nasty in the hot sun seems to smell bad to most people, but I am sure there are exceptions. Culturally I know that there are things that some of my friends thought smelled great that I did not like, usually related to foods although perfume choice was sometimes different too. I liked that what I thought smelled good sometimes smelled bad to them too. Personally, I hate the smell of banana. I like eating bananas, but a strong banana smell is enough to make my throat close up. Freaky until you realize that for almost a year I had to take a liquid medication three times a day that was flavord with a horrid banana flavoring to try to mask its undrelying nastiness. I also can not stand the smell of regular/vanilla pediasure, ensure, or slimfast (it smells too much like the first two). Odd until you consider the number of tube feedings I have run with those products, the number of times I have had a child later return them to me, and the fact that the last child I tube fed is no longer here. I like the smell of baby formula on a baby's breath when it is warm, sweet, and sometimes just a hint off of fresh. It reminds me of all of the times I would take care of Lil' Bit and how fast she is growing up (my niece), as well as all of the little ones I watched when in school. I like the smell of a car when it is extremely hot in the summer, so hot that you can hardly stand to be inside of the car and you want to blast the air conditioning higher than ever before. For some reason I can not explain, that heat combined with the rich warm smell reminds me that I am physically, in-my-body alive more than just about any other single, random experience. I know, I am odd. I also love the smells of fresh cut grass (in spite of allergies), fresh brewed coffee, baby powder, vanilla, and butterscotch candies as they melt on someone's breath. I strongly dislike the smell of bleach, the smell of rubbing alcohol, and the smell of muddy ground (it smells like worms). My favorite smell though is one that is hard to explain - it is the smell of a preschooler who has had a great day at school and is giving you a hug goodbye or cuddling with you to read a book or sitting on your lap to color a picture or swinging with you outside. Sometimes there is a bit of baby powder smell, often No More Tears shampoo, a hint of milk, some left over bits of whatever smells we used (i.e. fingerpaint, shaving cream), outdoors, and the final traces of those baby smells all combined. So would a rose by any other name smell as sweet? Do I really care? Smell it - if you like it call it whatever you want and enjoy. If not, well call it stinky and find something better to stick your nose into. :)

But I can't Juggle...

Tomorrow I have an appointment with a new hematologist (also an oncologist). My first reason for going is that my current primary care doctor has been unable to control the rat poison levels for the Lupus Anticoagulant and I am getting tired of changing doses so often. I am also tired of having to drive so far for a finger stick, especially when the level is never right. When I moved here my level was stable and had not needed to be adjusted in 6 months - it has not been stable in over a year. So task one is to get the PT/INR under control so that it is safer and I can stop spending half of the time hiding bruises. The second reason for going is that no one seems able to explain these lumps that continue to make their presence known and I would like a final answer. I am hoping that it will be easy to determine that they are benign and they can be dealt with without any major difficulty. I just need concrete answers. Especially with the lump on my ribs now sticking out close to an inch when I take a deep breath in (when my ribs are most prominent) and my ribs are aching more and more often. I am feeling like a broken record here - and if I could not actually see these lumps I would question my sanity. I am hesitant to say too much about them tomorrow because with the scans not showing enough to be helpful I am unsure what he is going to think, but I need someone to be willing to help, to find an answer, and to not be quick to dismiss things. With my history I am often a doctor's worst nightmare - just taking a history takes forever. Ugh! Sometimes I wish that I could just deal with "normal" things for a while - but then I realize that this is normal for me. Normal is juggling what you have been given and praying that whatever you drop is going to bounce instead of explode. So I am tossing things up into the air like mad, trying to catch them as they fall, and desperately praying that whatever I miss bounces instead of exploding into chaos all around me. Sounds normal to me! With that in mind I am going to throw tomorrow's appointment up into the air and we shall see if I catch it, if it bounces, or if it explodes. If you happen to see me running, try to keep up!! :)

Fringe Benefits

There are the typical things that go along with being a teacher, both positive and negative, that I think anyone can readily imagine. The smiles and hugs, the crayon drawings, the not-always-happy parents, the paperwork. Then there are the unexpected fringe benefits, the things that they never tell you about in college and that you never imagine but that you discover in the course of teaching. I have written down some of the most unexpected fringe benefits and, well, let's just say that no matter what happens at the end of the day I laugh, I smile, and I love my job more than any other on earth.

* little handprints in fingerpaint on your pants
* a free food taster to check your lunch for any potential dangers
* a wealth of information on head lice, ring worm, thrush, pink eye, chicken pox, and other contageous yuckies
* the ability to get lost even after consulting mapquest, google maps, and the stack of maps on my bookshelf - and to laugh at myself as I make my tenth u-turn
* an appreciation of the amazing joy of tiny things - the beauty of a single leaf, the excitement of making a toy light up, the thrill of swinging, the freedom of dancing with your arms out wide
* a collection of kleenex in your pocket and the excitment of "the luck of the draw" as you reach in to discover which are used and which are clean
* the ability to change a diaper in under 30 seconds while wearing gloves
* the rush of seeing a child accomplish a skill for the very first time - this is better than anything on earth!
* a guaranteed good night sleep - this is a hidden cure for insomnia!
* a reason to dress up for halloween
* an opportunity to celebrate every holiday big time - we party all month long. :)
* no need to wonder where that bruise came from
* an excuse for the stains on my clothes at the end of the day (what? I didn't spill lunch on my own shirt! :oP )
* a chance to see real change in a little life

Please Tell Me They Didn't Let Her Procreate...

There is logic, there are job related skills, and then there is knowledge that is so fundamental and basic to species survival that one would think that anyone reaching adulthood with the capacity to hold down a job would possess it. This is the kind of knowledge that I tend to expect from those around me. I will roll my eyes at the lack of logic - you mean you didn't expect him to wipe the fingerpaint on your clothes? I will try my best to teach you job or context related skills if you stumble into my world and lack them. But if you are responsible for taking care of one of my little ones and you fail to possess that fundamental survival knowledge, please do not look at me in surprise when I am not quite so patient. For example, if you place a three year old on a changing table to change their diaper and then walk across the room to throw their diaper away LEAVING THEM on the changing table? I am going to react a bit. I might ask you what you are doing and before allowing you to answer prompt you to get back over by the child. I might even raise my voice as I try to emphatically tell you that you can not EVER leave a child alone on a changing table because children - they move...they wiggle...they fall...they smack their heads open on the floor...they need stiches and CT scans and Lord only knows what else. How does a seemingly functional adult not realize that leaving a wiggly kid on a high surface is a really bad idea? And please tell me she did not ever receive a child of her own to take home to test these theories on!

Breathe, Breathe

In just about two hours the bell at school will ring and hundreds of children will come pouring through the doors whether we are ready or not. I have a sinking feeling that I am going to be leaning more towards the "not" section of that last statement. There are still boxes in the classroom that I need to unpack or at leat shove somewhere this morning to give the illusion that we are organized and unpacked. There are no pictures on any of the bulletin boards, there is no picture schedule unless I find last years and fudge it with that one for the first few days, there are few pictre symbols, and I will be scrambling to label cubbies this morning. I am not yet familiar with the kids IEPs and will be doing good if I can keep their name's straight. Have I mentioned that I am a perfectionist and that I need to be in total control at all times? I have no words to explain how much this is bothering me, the lack of organization, the fact that so much is unfinished, and the fact that today is going to be so much more than organized chaos and there is not a single darn thing I can do about it. Perhaps if I had not had to unpack an entire classroom wile attending so many meetings while trying to orient the new afternoon teacher while working with an assistant who seems nice enough but most likely does not know on which end of a child to put a diaper let alone how to owkr with children who ahve special needs while trying to organize my files and information while trying to contact parents while schedling and doing home visits everything would have gotten done. This is just my second year ever teaching and last year, well that was trial by fire. Yet no one remembers this except me and now not only am I treading water alone I am supposed to teach everyone I work with how to swim. Has anyone seen my floaties? I am sure once I can fall into a routine and get organized I will feel much better but right now, when my little ones cry for their mommy this morning, inside I will be doing the same thing. :o) My goal for today is to breathe and to enjoy whatever happens and to get to know these beautiful, wonderful, one-of-a-kind children that have been entrusted to me. When I focus on them, the other stuff does not seem very important at all.

Suck It Up And Deal

Have you ever seen a dog that has been chasing its own tail around and around in a circle and suddenly discovers that it has managed to catch it? That look of confusion and shock and total bewilderment as to what has happened? And you know the dog is wondering how the heck it ended up with a nasty hunk of fur in its mouth when it was chasing this wonderful glimpse of utopia just a moment before. Right now I am spitting fur and turning slowly in circles trying to make sense of everything. This week has been the standard chaos of getting ready for the return of school, only with the added enjoyment of having to unpack an entire preschool classroom inbetween meetings and home visits and more meetings and calling parents and reviewing files and more meetings. Unpacking a standard elementary school classroom inolves probably a dozen boxes, a few tables, some files, and desks. Preschool, we are like your grandmother who comes to visit for a week but brings enough crap to stay until the end of the decade. We had literally over fifty boxes not to mention all of the equipment and oversized items that would nto fit into boxes. Imagine trying to keep up to 12 young preschoolers entertained for 4 hours a day five days a week for 9 months out of the year in a single room without television, without DVDs, and while instructing them in meeting a whole laundry list of goals. It takes a LOT of stuff. Our art supplies alone fill two cupboards and three drawers and we have more somewhere. I also had the pleasure of assembling several items, and let's just say that when they fall apart I pray no children are in the area. My building skills are relegated to towers of wooden blocks that teeter and fall when a child breathes on them. School starts Tuesday morning and our classroom is not ready. It will be in "fake it" ready mode by the time the bell rings, after I arrive at 6:30am and work my butt off, but it will not be anywhere near where it should be. At this point it is the best we can do and any complaints can be directed to anyone but me. I worked my butt off and endured two autonomic crashes to get the room even functional. Besides, the first week is chaos no matter how well you plan and how perfectly every toy is on every shelf and every picture on every wall. It is about getting to know the children, establishing a routine, and calming down the incredibly protective and concerned parents (I understand that they are giving me their children for 4 hours a day and I really am honored, I take my responsibility very seriously, and I will do almost anything to make the transition easier but hovering in the room the entire first week - so not helping here!). I do need to find or create our picture schedule as soon as possible and get some picture symbols out for children to use. Fine details, like labeling the centers and toy shelves, can be done during the first few weeks. I am working with a new teacher and a new assistant who have not done this before - I am only one woman! :) Besides, I really want to get to know my little ones more than I want to worry about having the pictures on the shelves or the schedule just right. I would rather establish a great relationship with them from the beginning than have an immaculate and exactly organized room. I can organize, label, and "pretty up" the room anytime but I can only form that inital bond with them once. I have a great group of kids this year and I am so excited. I do wish I had taken Spanish in school instead of German because I don't forsee needing to order a beer or a prostitute anytime soon (the extend of my German - bad teacher!) but I could really use the ability to talk with my little ones!
Along the lines of having to just suck it up and deal I finally made an appointment with a hem./onc. The first reason is because my current primary doctor is holding my rat poison (coumadin) hostage until I have a PT/INR done because I am slightly (two months) overdue. Details, details. It is just too inconvenient to drive 45 minutes each way for a fingerstick, especially when he can not get the blasted level stable anyway. This doctor is ten minutes way from where I live and hopefully can get things balanced. Second reason is the fact that no matter how hard I use my magical thinking I cannot make the lumps and bumps disappear. My ribs hurting is getting a little annoying when I am trying to work in the classroom and I need to know that it will not progress to the point where it makes it too hard to lift children. I also would really like an answer as to what these things are, but that might be like asking for the winning lotto ticket at this point. So as much as I want to just ignore them and pretend they are not there I need to address the issue. Summer break was nice but it is time to get back into life.

On Paper I Should Be Dead

Earlier this week I called in one batch of my prescriptions to be refilled at the local pharmacy and after work on Thursday I decided to make a quick trip through the drive through to pick them up. There's nothing like taking the last dose of your anti-narcolepsy medication to encourage you to get your butt to the pharmacy. So I pulled up to the window and was greeted by someone I had never seen before. Ahhh, the innocence of fresh meat. I provided her with my name, spelling it out carefully to avoid the issue of "we don't have anyone by that name in the computer". She then asked me how many prescriptions I was picking up. With an evil glint in my eye I told her that there shoudl be somewhere around eight or nine but that when you are calling in that many prescriptions late at night you tend to lose count. Blinking she backed away from the window and headed off to find my stockpile. Returning she held up the bags and informed me that there were seven (my doctor is holding one hostage until I show up for labwork - go figure, two months late and he becomes a little testy). The price seemed to send her pretty brown eyes spinning just a bit and I asked her if they ever had a buy one get one free sale. It was when she ran my debit card, with my picture and name on it, that she made the connection that all of the medications were mine. I could see the exact minute because those brown eyes just about smacked into my car windshield. She gasped and stuttered out "Are all these medications for you?!?". I nodded and with a wicked grin replied "that's not all of them either." I then calmly returned her eyes to her so she could print the receipt. I used the standard line to reassure her, "I lost the genetic lottery" and then left her wondering with the parting line "Don't worry, on paper I should be dead". Something tells me that the next time I need to pick up a batch of medication, I will not need to spell my name for her. :)