Christmas Came Early!

This is the best story! I just HAVE to share it!

About 6 weeks ago, I got wind of a situation where everyone involved was at the end of their rope, and that sucker was unraveling...fast! This is the story of a kiddo I'll call Frank.

Frank has been dealt a rough hand. He has a pair of 2's. The awesome thing about a pair of 2's is that it can become something else. Check it out!

Frank is absolutely slammed with learning disabilities. He is 15 and can't read. Not only is learning a real challenge for him, he doesn't really play well with others. So even if someone is trying to help him, he is a tough kid to help. Frank was failing almost every subject a year ago when his parents pulled him out of school, just shy of finishing up his first semester of 9th grade. They moved to Vegas, and instead of enrolling Frank in school, they made him work construction.

Fast forward to August...Frank's family moved back to town, reenrolling him in school where he is basically right back where he started more than a year ago. Frank is less than thrilled to be starting all over without any credits, still unable to read, and still not really feeling like his pair of 2's is worth staying in the game. As if that weren't enough, Frank's father was deported, and his mother chose to go with him. Frank was left with his 19 year-old sister. I don't know Frank's sister, but even the most responsible 19 year-old is not any kind of equipped to raise a 15 year old, particularly one with the massive amount of investment this kiddo desperately needs. And Frank knows that too. That's probably why he's turned to some gang-affiliated friends to make sure someone is going to stick with him.

Frank probably doesn't realize it, but life dealt him a wild card or two. Frank has two teachers who got together and asked for help. They ended up with an intensive intervention plan that Frank couldn't escape no matter how hard he tried. He landed himself with 50 minutes of daily reading instruction, and no one really thought it would work, including Frank.

Imagine Frank's surprise 6 weeks later when he found himself holding a full house! Frank's teachers were probably the most shocked! Now he's not reading on grade level, but he's improving at a drastic rate because two people showed up, followed the plan, and expected him do his part to follow it too.

I don't know about you, but this was just about the best Christmas present I can imagine! I'm feeling grateful that I got to be a tiny piece of the solution. This story is far from over, but at least there's some hope glimmering for everyone who was staring at a pair of 2's and a hopeless-looking situation.

So here's to hope! And a Merry Christmas.

I'm in a Colorado State of Mind...

I have wanted to live in the mountains since I was 7. My parents used to pull a Griswald every year, load my brother and me into our blue Buick Regal with a coloring book and a piece of masking tape to put down the middle of the back seat, like the Berlin Wall, and my side was East! Approximately 1,537 license plate games later, we would be skiing in Colorado. I vividly remember walking outside in the frosty mornings, watching my breath float away in the crisp, quiet air and knowing this place was special. It was love at first sight, and my soul became that of a mountain girl.  So I got there as fast as I could!

When I met Charge, I vividly remember my answer to his “Do you come here often” question. It was: “Listen, don’t get too excited. I’m moving somewhere with trees, mountains, and four actual seasons as soon as I can figure out how.”  And we were married 7 months later with plans to move somewhere with a real REI and a 100-inch base every year.

We loaded up two cars and a U-haul and drove to Littleton, Colorado. Let the Happily Ever After Begin! I was in my new apartment with a view of the Front Range and brand new hiking boots. What more could a girl want! I was already making plans for three backpacking trips, entire weekends skiing in Summit County, and learning to rock climb on real rocks. Imagine my shock when the little pink line appeared in the wrong window!

I called my girlfriend whose husband is a pediatrician and said, “These things are totally unreliable, right? The instructions are in Korean, so I’m sure there is a mistake!” She said, “Yes! I finally get to see you fat!”  I protested: I have never changed a diaper. I have never held an actual baby. Every diaper I ever put on my dolls fell off immediately, and when they peed water all over the place, I decided it was best not to feed them! I had just moved 1,200 miles away from my mother who instinctively I know is the only person who can make me feel better right now. I am uniquely unqualified for this!

I got off the phone with her, looked at the roomful of boxes and the mountains framed in the window behind them, and I wondered if they made special skis that you can attach to your belly.   

Don’t get me wrong—I LOVE being a mom! I mean, I like the actual mom part of being a mom. My children giggle, or say “You are the best mommy ever,” and the world suddenly seems safe and right and full of hope and endless possibilities. But (come on, you knew it was coming) I have struggled since the moment that little pink line began materializing in that window with my identity and whom I would become when that pointy-headed, tie-dyed bundle of squirmy miracle was finally in my arms. How was this going to change me? Would I get lost forever in this world of Momminess? I decided right then and there; it was official. I didn’t know how, but I was determined to be my brand of mom, not checking my dreams and sense of wonder at the doorway into the portal of parenthood. No minivans or Soccer Mom stickers on my back window; no pre-notification of death outfits that scream “I will never be having sex again in my life after growing this kid!” Nope. I was going to do this my way. Mommyhood, here I come!

Now what?

So whenever one challenges the universe, it never fails to rise to the occasion and challenge right back. Like every challenge, the secret lies in how it’s handled. Naturally, I kind of suck at that when human life is at stake. Needless to say, this mom gig has been a never-a-dull-moment kind of Choose Your Own Adventure book. If you choose to let the screaming child scream, go to page 27 and visualize a bubble bath. If you choose to go pick up the screaming child and try to calm it down, go to page 42 and put earplugs in your ears...you can take a shower some other day...

Those days are pretty much in the past. It's a great thing when i can say, "Go get in the car," and by the time I make it to the garage, my kids are strapped in the back seat with their stuff. i've been wondering what to do with us now...I mean, we have two weeks off! "Yea!" but "Hmmmm."

I started googling things to do with boys, and I got some great but really expensive ideas. I immediately went back to what I'd most like to be doing today which is playing in the 6 inches of powder that landed in the Rockies yesterday! I feel a little bit sad that I can't throw my little guy in the 4-wheel drive, head up to the mountains, and learn to snowboard together. Or have a massive snowball fight! It's the sad part of living in the Dallas area--there's just not a lot going on unless your kid is an uber-athlete or you want to spend a small fortune! 

So here's my solution: We are having a date at the Gaylord Texan Ice exhibit, followed by a trip to the Bass Pro Shop, and greasy cheeseburgers WITH bacon! Because there's nothing a good hamburger can't fix!   

 

Things I'd like to Invent in All of My Spare Time

I'm forever thinking of things I'd like to invent or create. None of them actually exist because I either don't have the time or necessary expertise to produce any of them! Still, they are interesting ideas, and I keep thinking some of them could be the next best-selling item next Christmas! So here's my list, and hopefully the zany little ideas are good for a laugh!

1. Bunk Desks - I share an office with the greatest person! Mindy and I have a great working relationship and laugh all the time, plus we tend to crank out some pretty good stuff. In order to create "good stuff," one needs an unbelievable amount of supplemental stuff. We are just about out of space and starting to spread new stuff out on our floor! Our office is about the size of a dorm room or prison cell...and it's kind of set up the same way. My solution to our space issue is bunk desks! Not sure how the person on the top desk would sit there, but I'm sure a chair on stilts could be arranged!

2. Hairbrush Microphone - In honor of our weekly Dance Party Thursday, which has managed to creep into other days as well, I think my kids and preteen girls the world over would totally go for the real deal. After generations of slumber party veterans have used their hairbrushes to sing their hearts out to everyone from Elvis to Madonna and now every 80s song covered by Glee, a combination hairbrush/microphone would definitely make it into stockings at my house!

3. Taser App - For non-violent purposes only!!! I have walked through New York and taken a wrong turn. This would have come in handy. Come to think of it, I could have also used it on a train in Paris, every single time I took public transportation in Italy, and once in Baltimore when my purse was stolen! As my brother pointed out, it would completely drain the battery, but it might be worth it.

4. Fake Slap App - Because the best thing about those old movies is the SMACK! This way, you don't actually hurt anyone...or reap the consequences of smacking someone. This would work! Open the slap app, whiz that phone through the air in the general direction of the slapee, and SMACK! I think 5th grade boys would be all over that one!

5. High Heel Running Shoes - I love cop and detective shows. I never know how they are able to catch the bad guys running in those stilettos! Then I got to thinking...there are real female detectives and cops who have to chase down bad guys, and there's no, "Wait! Time out while I change my shoes!" So inventing a pair of Jimmy Choo-esque heels that are retrofitted as running shoes would totally solve that problem! Plus, I could run and be taller than an Oompa Loompa!

6. Robo Toilet Cleaners - So this probably won't work, but I sure wish it would! You know those robot vacuum cleaners that run around the house and clean the floors? Well, if they could be water-proofed and miniaturized, I'd love to throw one in the toilet, let it run around and clean the entire thing on a regular basis so I never have to clean another toilet ever again!

7. 365 Reasons to Go To Starbucks - I can't stomach spending $5 on a cup of coffee, unless I am rewarding myself for something. I wonder if I could get Starbucks to contract with me to write a coffee table book or a journal with 365 reasons to get Starbucks! I think they'd go for it! 365 perfectly good reasons to blow five bucks on coffee!

Got any other ideas?

(By the way, retailers, these are now officially copyrighted since they are in written form and you can't steal them unless you fork over some serious cash!) Yeah, I'm sure that'll work....

PLEASE Tell My Most Embarrassing Moment.....Again!!!

Most people love a good most embarrassing moment story as long as it wasn't their most embarrassing moment. My daughter is an exception. She will beg me to tell stories about when she was little. Then she dies laughing and says, "Tell it again!" This happened recently, and it's a good one! I think I'll tell it again!

My kids are exactly 23 months apart to the day. My daughter was walking at 7 months, running by 8 months, and climbing stairs in plastic Barbie high heels at 9 months. You get the idea--she can be kind of a handful. She loved helping out with the baby once my son arrived, but she thought of him more as a doll that didn't require batteries. Looking back, I think this is why nothing really bothers him now...

The kids' rooms were upstairs, and we spent most of our time downstairs so I always had diapers stashed nearby because you just never know when you'll need one. Well, my son needed a new one, and the diaper stash was fresh out. So I told my daughter to watch her brother and not to let him squirm anywhere while I went upstairs to get more diapers. 

I took those stairs 3 at a time, and by the time I was at the top, the murderous screaming had begun. I grabbed the diapers and raced back down to see if anyone was bleeding. 

I have absolutely no idea how she did it in such a short period of time, but that girl had stripped that kid naked--pants, onesie, socks, diaper, hat! My teeny son was wailing and red on the floor, looking like a furious Klingon. His sister's expression was priceless; she looked absolutely mortified! 

I started to put the poor little naked baby back together, and she sat there, staring with her mouth hanging open. Finally she said, "Mom! Did you know Nathan has a TAIL?!!!!!!!!"

I stifled a laugh somehow because this was way too early to have that conversation! I said, "Sweetie, he doesn't have a tail. It's OK."

Not good enough. "No, Mom! Look! It's a TAIL! You've gotta cut that thing off!!!!!"

I don't remember exactly what happened after that, but she felt it was her civic duty as a sister to inform anyone who would listen that her brother had a tail. Excellent information. She informed our neighbors, all the kids at daycare, a few people at the grocery store, and a waitress. What do you say?

Finally I told her it was OK for Nathan to have a tail; it's just not something we tell everyone on the planet. 

Here's the question: why in the world would she want me to tell that story over and over and over again? I do not get it! There are many more too! I don't know where she gets this stuff, but I'm hoping like heck there's an application resulting in a lucrative enterprise! 

Cupid is Officially in Time Out!

I get one hour of blissful me time every Tuesday evening at what I affectionately call Death Yoga. That class is so hard, and walking out of there feels like the greatest physical accomplishment--like Olympic yoga and I won a medal! It's just about as relaxed as I get...that's not really saying much.

So last week, my yoga high and I get in the car to drive home when my phone starts pinging like crazy! Six text messages from the father of my children, who does not text me unless someone is dying or we aren't sure who's supposed to pick up whom when to shuttle them where. It's night time, so I'm thinking ER...

The first one is obviously a yearbook picture of a little girl--not one I recognize. Odd. The next one is video of my daughter with her very effective mom look and wagging her no-way-I-don't-think-so finger. I'm beginning to think I'm being punked or something. The next one is a marker drawing of two hearts with big smiles, eyes, hair, arms, and shoes. It says, "You are my boy frind." Still not really getting it. The last text is another picture, and I feel the nail go in the coffin:

"To: Nate
From: Mary Kate
I heart you!"

That's it! Death yoga high is gone. Some little first grader vixen has her little Hello Kitty nail polished nails dug into my baby. Game over. I texted back: Tell him he is grounded until he is 30!

I calmed down and put things in perspective on the way home. After all, what's the big deal...it's just a card, right? He's 7. It's not like they're picking out china patterns.

I walk into my son's room to ask him about this young lady...He has pinned the card to the bulletin board beside his bed and is sitting there staring at it. INTERVENTION!!!!!

I really wasn't sure what to do. Let it go? Find out what the hell is going on at recess? I'm totally torn. So I decide to wait until I put him to bed to have a rational discussion with my very rational son. He beat me to it.

"Mom, if an angel shoots you in the butt with an arrow, do you have to fall in love with them?"
(Wow, didn't see that one coming.) "Nope. Not true at all."

Pause in the story---about three days before when I was putting him to bed, my son asked me another odd question: "Mom, does Avery (his sister) have to be the mother of my children or can I get a different one?" Another odd question, but one I could answer: "No, it's against the law to marry your sister, so you'll have to find a different one. It takes a really long time--probably when you're 30 or so--and you should find one who gets along really well with her parents and absolutely adores her daddy." He said, "I want a nice one because I'm not putting up with a mean one!" Good plan.

So now the pieces are falling into place. Do I tell him he isn't allowed to have a girl friend? That could backfire like it did with Romeo and Juliet's dads. Half the town ended up dead! Do I blow it off? Also doesn't seem like the right thing to do. There's just something in my gut that tells me one should never trust a girl with two first names!

I figured it out today. When I went to pick him up, my son and the infamous girlfriend were sitting together at a table, side by side, cutting out snowflakes. OK, so maybe that's not so bad...but I'm totally keeping an eye on that one!
 

Who Do You Work For?

I have a challenge for you.

Read this: http://lovemath.teachforus.org/2010/12/09/the-latest-and-greatest/

And then watch as I scooch out on a teensy little limb...

THIS is a teacher. There are school districts out there with teachers complaining about having too many materials cluttering up their room, too many engaging activities in the curriculum to cover, too much time and work is required to choose books for kids based on their orthographic development or the strategy they need to practice. And this teacher just wants copy paper! I want my kid in that guy's class!

I saw Waiting for Superman in October. I went by myself because I wasn't sure what my reaction would be. I didn't know if I'd be angry or crying or feel like I was being asked to buy a $1500 vacuum cleaner, and I wanted to keep an open mind. I purposefully didn't read anything about it. No spoiler alert necessary, BUT if you haven't seen it, GO SEE IT!

So I left the movie intently bothered, like when my back won't pop and it's completely uncomfortable. I cried. A lot. And then I got mad. I felt this sense of complete panic. My reasons for panicking were two-fold: my inner momma-bear panicked for the futures of my kids in a public school system that is too big to be as effective as it would like to think it is, and I felt horribly responsible for everyone else's kids. Granted, I don't even teach in a classroom any more, but I was completely incensed that the concepts of apathy and teacher could go in the same conversation.

DISCLAIMER! I know there are amazing teachers out there! There are millions of them! I have worked with them. My kids have had them as teachers, and I thank my lucky stars that I have been able to drop my kids off to the care and nurturing of some of the absolute finest, but it's not always going to be that way. It's just not. For me, it's time to start asking how this is OK.

So I'm going to be asking a lot of questions, and I don't have the answers. Just because I don't have the answers doesn't mean it's OK to quit looking for them. So I'm looking and I'm asking, and I'm not really sure what the answers will be for me, but I am certain of one thing: Kids deserve more from us. I don't care where they live, what they wear, or even how they act because they learned that from an adult too. If we start writing off kids when they are in elementary school, rubber-stamping them as "good kid," "bad kid," "ADHD kid," "doesn't care kid," "smart kid," then we should be ashamed of ourselves. And we do it! Well-meaning teachers do it all the time because they are at the end of their ropes, trying to do 400 million things, check off all of the boxes so they won't get sued or worse, and find the energy to dig deep so they are mentally and emotionally available to teach their students. They are the ones in the trenches, and I can promise you no one is thanking them.

I vividly remember my first year teaching, and I worked my tail off! I don't think I slept the entire first semester. I was awake most nights agonizing over my kids because they had become "my kids." I talked to parents who didn't know how to help their kids catch up, or if they could expect that much from them. I was always reassuring and positive, and I took every single thing they had to say to heart, determined to do something about it--whatever it was. I read everything I could get my hands on, talked to teachers I respected who had been around a while, and I kept mental notes of the the practices I didn't want to incorporate into my own. Looking back, I'm not sure how anyone learned anything, but they did! All of them did, and I'm positive it wasn't because I was the greatest teacher in the world. As a matter of fact, I think I learned more from them than they did from me. I think it was because I would not give up on them or me for that matter.

I'm putting that out there not to toot my own horn because really I could have done a much better job with the craft of teaching. I'm putting it out there to make a really important point: it's a hard job. It'll break your heart one day and send you over the moon the next. I've left my classroom feeling like I'd just gotten the news that my best friend had stage 4 cancer, and I've skipped from the building like I just completed my first jump skydiving! You just never know what's coming, and it takes an insane amount of commitment and a lot of heart to show up every single day, smile on, and prepared to grow the learning experience of 50 or 150 kids that day.

It's a thankless job, and that's not OK either.

Hmmmmm. Now what? Well, my next step was to show up and work my tail off every single day to make something somewhere better for as many kids as I possibly can. And that looks different every single day. I pinned my ticket stub from Waiting for Superman on my wall right next to my computer so I'd never forget who I'm working for. It's not me; it's not one of my 75 bosses. I'm working for kids.

What are you doing?

(I've been rewriting this blog post for just about a week--I'm hopeful someone is still reading...)

It's Beginning to Feel a Lot Like Christmas

This Christmas has the potential to be a lot of things. Financially, it is a bit trickier this year than in years past, and the dynamics in our family have been changing over the last year. Change is typically a challenge, but the holidays seem to magnify everything--both the good and the not so much. 

Thanksgiving was a trial run, so to speak, and worked out well. Probably because it was just like every other year. Exactly. Well, we had different dessert, but that's not what I mean. At the end of Thanksgiving weekend, I put the house back together, got ready for Monday, and plopped myself down with a huge sigh of relief. We made it through the entire weekend--massive cooking projects, lots of family get-togethers, one big tamale making party, and waiting for the high heel to drop. 

It didn't. 

Enter Christmas Holiday Season.

I've been trying to think of a way to frame this Christmas so it's about being grateful for how fortunate we are instead of how we wish things were different because that's one bad rabbit hole I'm not interested in visiting! Anticipating the potential disappointment, I wondered how I could tangibly show my kids that Christmas was NOT about how much loot they scored. We were shopping for their dad when the Christmas tree light bulb switched on above my head.....

We did a U-turn at Northpark and headed right past Build-a-Bear and the LEGO Store for the Angel Tree. We sat there for a minute looking at all of the cards on the tree. I told them that each one of those cards was one kid's list of things they would like to have for Christmas, and it was most likely the only gifts they would get. I told them to find the list of a child their age. They found Cornelius and Sandra, and we became their angels.

Cornelius wanted a fire truck and needed a coat. Sandra needed shoes and wanted hair accessories. I told the kids that we'd have to get less from each other, but that these kids really needed these things so it was OK with me. They agreed, and we hit the mall!

My son picked out a coat that "looked cool" and would still keep him warm. As an expert on trains, my son chose a play set that included a fire station and track with the fire engine. He also chose a pair of jeans, socks, and a sweater--green, his favorite color. He also wanted to give Cornelius some FARP, but I told him that Cornelius's mom probably liked FARP about as much as I do. No FARP. 

My daughter took much longer to decide what Sandra should receive. See, as an almost 9-year-old young lady, apparently it's impossible to purchase hair accessories without a particular outfit in mind. Sandra got a sassy pair of skinny jeans and a leopard belt. She will be walking the catwalk in her new knock-off Uggs, puffy vest, and two shirts. Of course there are hair accessories to kick it up a notch and could be worn somewhere boring like school or to a "dance or something." My daughter put the outfits together and was proud of them. Then I watched her face change. She asked if Sandra had a mom and dad or brothers and sisters. She asked if they would feel bad since they didn't get new clothes too. She wondered if Sandra needed a sparkly fuzzy pencil or lip gloss.

I started to think my plan worked.  

I made the kids fill out the labels that we were supposed to stick on each item. The kids folded everything and put in the bag the Angel Tree gave us. No, we couldn't wrap them because we had to follow the Angel Tree directions. (Child: "That's a dumb rule!" Me: "Most of them are if you didn't come up with them. I'm sure they have a good reason.")

We drove our gifts to Northpark last night. My little elves carried the red plastic bags full of loot through the mall. People stopped them to ask them about their bags. They told them about their kids, what they wanted, and what they bought for them. The FedEx guy offered to carry the package for my son since it was about as big as him! My son put down the package and showed Mr. FedEx his muscles, picked up his bag, and said, "Merry Christmas!!!" 

We rounded the corner, and there he was...Santa! The real Santa WITH his nice list, a red leather bound book! No messing around here! My kids walked right past Santa, gawking of course, but they walked right to the Angel Tree and turned in their gifts. I was in tears. 

OK, then they plopped down their bags and made a bee-line to Santa! I guess they figured they should get in line while their nice points were up there. 

My son asked Santa for LEGOs and a skateboard (YES!!!), and my daughter asked for Sandra's whole family to get new clothes..... and a 4G phone with a sliding keyboard, pink please, with diamonds all over. Really? Well, at least she forgot to ask for the baby sister!

Naughty List!

Dear Big Oil Companies,

Shame on you.

This is NOT the time of year to inflate oil prices! There is no good reason for gas to cost $3.00 a gallon, but there are plenty of good reasons to keep that price down for the next 20 days or so. Is your heart two sizes too small? In case you need some encouragement, I'm offering a few ideas...

An ever-increasing number of people don't fly because it costs them more to get their bags to their destination than it does for their tickets. So they drive across two states to see their grandmothers. If that is out of the question, parents probably start cutting from their holiday spending. It won't be from buying their kids gifts. It will be donating to charitable organizations like Angel Tree, food banks, donation projects at work and schools, coat drives...Shall I continue?

Big Oil, you are shooting yourself in the wallet. I drove a gas-guzzling truck for a while. I sold that puppy and got myself into a zippy little red Prius (just in time, too!). My number one criteria when looking for a new car? GAS MILEAGE! So I have literally cut my gas spending by 75% in the last month.

If this doesn't change your mind about lowering gas prices just in time for the holidays, I have another idea...

Dear Santa,

Will you please consider skipping the people who are responsible for the high price of gas this holiday season? Since most of us don't have access to your zero emissions flying reindeer to get around...although on second thought, that would really cause an issue in the carpool line! Please don't give them coal either as they'd just find a way to burn it or turn it around and sell it for a million percent more than it cost them! While I'm asking, I have one more request: will you ask them to read that article in The Economist about the new capitalism and encourage them to be a bit more socially responsible?

Oh, and by the way, I know my daughter asked you to get me pregnant for Christmas so she could have a little sister, but really, it's not necessary. I confiscated her letter, but I know those little elves are very effective. I'm good with the two I've got.

Thanks, Santa! Sugar cubed to Rudolph!

Off the Hook Thanks to the Rainbow Connection

As a special ed teacher, I've heard enough quotable statements come from parents to fill up one  downright entertaining coffee table book. One of the most profound and telling statements I've ever heard come out of a parent's mouth wasn't intended to be heard by any one except the other parent, but I'm so glad I heard it.

We had Meet the Teacher/Open House night right off the bat when I taught elementary school. It was the first week of the new school year, and the halls were full of kids and parents, teachers, and volunteers. The atmosphere was full of energy--like a first date when all you see is the positive and jump every time the phone rings for the next week. I had just checked in with my older students' families and was Richard-Simmons walking from the 6th grade area to kindergarten when I passed a couple having a rather animated discussion. The wife punched her husband in the arm, and then she said it:

"See, it's not just our kid...they're all like that!"

I stopped in the middle of the hallway, turned around to see his response because that was just about the most hilarious thing I'd heard all day! The husband looked at his wife in the way Kermit looks at Miss Piggy when they are running across the field during that Rainbow Connection song, and he planted one on her like they'd just won the lottery! At the time, I just thought it was a fantastic story. I shared it with anyone who would listen because it was just too good to keep, but over the years that quote has resonated with me.

It's extremely important to me that my children are polite, respectful, grateful, and responsible for themselves. I want them to do their very best as often as they are able, and I want them to be true to their passions in life--whatever those turn out to be. Unfortunately, there's not a How-to that tells me how to parent to this end, but I've read everything I can get my hands on to try and piece it together! So when I see my kids doing something that doesn't align with my high hopes and expectations, I start wondering where I went wrong. What lesson did I neglect to teach that allowed my child to think drawing a pirate mustache on the cat with a Sharpie would work out fine in the end? That's a benign example, but if you're a parent, you know the feeling...

That's when I remember Kermit and Piggy in the hallway and the magical quote: "See, it's not just my kid; they all act like that." In the course of growing my kids into the end result of a productive, positive adult, I tend to forget that they have to be kids first. And the number one job of a kid is to explore their world in a way that makes sense to them. Not in a way that makes sense to me. I know better because I already learned that lesson when I drew on the wall of my closet with crayons "I heart So-and-so" and my dad was not amused. I didn't do it again, but until we moved out of that house "I heart So-and-so" was right there on the closet wall to remind me what it was like to have my heart broken as a first grader and how silly it was to think I hearted anyone at that age. But, in all my first grader wisdom and life experience, I sure did! And looking back, I wasn't the only one! We all acted like that.

So today I'm officially giving my kids--and myself--a break. We are all going to live in and grow from our choices because that is what will help them become productive, positive adults. Because it's not just my kids; we all do that.

Beating the Carpool Line with Dance Party Thursday

First...the back story.

Believe it or not, I'm not naturally a morning person. Big shocker. I've always been more of a nocturnal type. I've always loved to stay up late, and I'm generally more productive at night probably because there's nothing else to distract me. Nonetheless, nocturnal and 7:45 tardy bell do not a happy couple make.

Since sleep is inherited, it's another big shocker that my kids aren't exactly what one would call "morning people." They aren't grumpy or anything atrocious, but they need a good 10 minutes or one fantastic incentive to get out of bed before 7, unless it's the weekend... Problem.

I'm not a big fan of problems; I tend to be hopping on solutions, and this was turning into kind of a major issue and ruining everyone's morning. So I hatched a plan--Dance Party Thursday!

(You are now officially up to speed.)

Dance Party Thursday might be one of the most brilliant ideas I ever had. Mostly because it worked like a charm, cost me nothing, and it's really a total blast! Here's how it works: I fire up my laptop, go to www.grooveshark.com--which works like a virtual jukebox without the quarters--and click away! After I have my DJ line-up ready to go, I crank the volume to full tilt, and head down the hall announcing, "Yeah Baby! It's Dance Party Thursday!!!!!!!"

And before I know it, I have created two club rats!

My son loves Bon Jovi and anything that I would have listened to in about the 6th grade. My daughter prefers music more along the lines of Gaga and Katy Perry. It's a bit terrifying, but we have yet to be anywhere close to late on Dance Party Thursday! I'm saying pick your battles, and if you can't beat 'em--dance like you're Britney and no one's watching!

All-Request Friday Coming Soon!!!!
Post your requests for the DJ--should be interesting!

What the CIA, Green Beans & Darth Vader Have in Common

My purpose for starting this blog is to share my experiences as an educator and parent, share my thoughts about how in the world we can provide kids the education they deserve and really must have if they are going to survive the next 50 years in a world none of us can fathom, and start a conversation with like-minded people so we can get cracking!

But I just saw the craziest thing! Here I sit in the slightly-dented place on the couch where I always sit with my coffee in hand, bundled up in my college dorm room comforter, reading whatever it is I'm reading with the news providing background ambiance and the much-needed weather forecast. Then this happens!

Aerial pan over what looks like a city in Belgium at night. This gorgeous, tall woman in a red and black suit and four-inch high heels is walking like a Victoria's Secret model with a purpose across the street, pausing to glance sideways, making sure she's not being followed. The voiceover says, "My office could be anywhere......but I can't tell my friends what I do." Tall underwear model meets a distinguished-looking man old enough to be her father in a little outdoor cafe. (I'm sure no one is looking at this point.) The voice is back: "Don't watch the news......BE the news." It turns out even the CIA's Clandestine Services has started advertising.

SIGN ME UP!

I have been a James Bond fanatic since I was about eight. I own every single James Bond movie ever made. I have always thought it would be extremely cool to be a spy! I wonder if I could still be in the PTA if I became a CIA operative...

Did I mention that we had evil spies hiding out in our front hedges last summer? My six-year-old son is not a fan of green beans. No amount of butter or brown sugar works. He is not a fan. One balmy summer evening, green beans made it to the dinner menu. He was not happy, but there was no complaining. There was a long pause as he looked at his green beans. Then he looked at me with his I'm-not-messing-around-I'm-about-to-tattle look and said, "Mom, don't eat the green beans! They are not safe!"

As the person who cooked the green beans, I was a little offended but asked, "What's wrong with them?"

"These green beans were invented by evil spies," he says in a voice just above a whisper. "The evil spies are hiding in the bushes out front, and they IN-VEN-TED these green beans! If we eat them, the evil spies will know where we are and they will win!"

I remember blinking a few times, putting my fork down, which was stuck somewhere between my plate and my mouth, and saying, "Well, I love green beans so let's go take 'em out!"

My kids were a little stunned, but we grabbed out Nerf guns and light sabers, the Superfab Barbie laptop, the Darth Vader costume and a black cape, and headed for battle.

I'll have you know that green beans the world over are now safe eating.

I wonder if the CIA provides on-site after-school care or has its own charter school. Hmmmmmm....