Not Pollyanna, just Positive

There is a blogger called Galen Pearl who writes a blog called 10 Steps to Finding Your Happy Place.  I recently discovered her blog and am loving it.  Here are her 10 steps:

1. Give yourself permission to be happy.
2. Decide if you want to be right or happy.
3. Give up the delusion of control.
4. Feel your feelings.
5. Make haste to be kind.
6. Judge not.
7. Practice compassion.
8. Forgive everyone.
9. Develop an attitude of gratitude.
10. Be here now.

Although I never put it into these words before, it is the way I have tried to live.   

At times, I argue with my husband, my daughter sometimes talks back, I have carried balances on credit cards and, frankly, I eat waaaaaay too much chocolate.  I have suffered betrayal and loss.  I've had some pretty hard times.  I don't talk about those things here, though, or anywhere really.   In general, I call my sister or my mother, and complain some, get a little tea and sympathy, then try to get over it.  Not avoid it, but not dwell on it either.

Of course, things go wrong in life.  That's not what's really important.  What defines us is how we respond to those circumstances.  

Cousin Camp and Salma's Giveaway

Every other summer (more or less), my sisters and I gather up our mother, husbands, and kids and head for the beach at Hilton Head South Carolina for a week or so.  Each family gets a condo, we take turns cooking, and the kids all run in a pack.  I love those weeks at the beach.

We bring special foods to cook that my sister who now lives in Virginia doesn't get up there.  Once we arrive, my mom rents a whole row of umbrellas at the beach and we all rent bikes.  Everything is so close to hand:  pool, beach, and each other.  We only ever get in the car to go to Pirate's Island for our big putt-putt tournament:  girls against boys.

My husband is a great breakfast cook and I'm always an early riser, so the nieces and nephews always know they can rely on an early meal at our place with their uncle as chef.  Once I get my coffee, I bike down to the beach to lie under an umbrella, listen to the waves, and read, read, read.  I make the occasional foray from the shade to build a sand castle or swim with the little kids.  I don't like to be in the sun, though, so any long walks for me are limited to early morning or late evening.  Lovely lazy days.

If I don't feel like the beach, there's the pool, or someone's shady porch to sit on.  We play board games and cards, make puzzles, and cook together.  I usually have some hand-sewing or a knitting project, with which I have many little helping (ahem) hands.  Mothers who need a break from the constant demands of little ones have lots of help from older cousins, aunts and uncles.  (I'm happy to offer my napping services for the under-5 crowd.)  We have a few fiddle and guitar players who enjoy getting together, too.  Once the boys became interested in video games, they started bringing their Wii and now I routinely lose every game of "Mario Brothers Dance Dance Revolution."  But I keep trying...

Over the years, the little children have grown up and new babies have come along.  The once early-rising little ones turn into night-owl teens and twenty-somethings.  Some milestones have happened, like this past summer, 7-year-old Vava learned to ride her two-wheel bike with no training wheels.  I captured the whole thing on video and emailed it to any family who weren't there.  We generally celebrate summer birthdays, including Gem's.  (She is one who has changed into a night-owl 15-year-old.)  In the next couple of years, we will welcome new great-nieces and nephews.

In all, I am so thankful to be part of a larger family who love and support one another.

When Salma came along with her giveaway of scrapbooking software, I couldn't resist.  The simple Turn Up the Heat template brought me back to those easy-going, happy beach days of Cousin Camp.  If you're reading this, I hope you enjoy Salma's blog, Chasing Rainbow, and take a look at her giveaway.

Cinquain Challenge

Tomato

 Juicy, Fragrant, Sweet

Growing, Slicing, Bursting.  

Eat them right off the vine.

Deliciousness.

This is my Cinquain about home grown tomatoes.  It is possible that this world has something more wondrous to offer, but I haven't found it yet.

I found this fun poetry challenge on the blog of Princess Fiona:

Line 1:  One noun.  This is your subject.
Line 2:  Three adjectives which describe your subject.
Line 3:  Three descriptive gerunds (verb + ing).
Line 4:  One complete sentence that relates to your subject.
Line 5:  One noun that is a synonym of your subject.

Thanks, Fiona!  Now I feel myself beginning to wax poetic about yard eggs...

Lazy Susan: She's a Tease

scene of good times with family and friends

I love my square dining table that seats 8 comfortably.  Square is wonderful because it's so sociable -- everyone who's there can talk together, or to their immediate neighbors, with no craning of necks or raised voices.  It is, however, difficult to reach a dish that may be all the way on the other side of its wide surface.  

a seemingly elegant solution

I found the perfect solution:  the Lazy Susan.

In theory, she's great.  I can put everything on the large disk in the middle of the table and it's all in reach.  Hypothetically, when I want the bread, or the salad, or more sweet potatoes, I have only to extend my hand.  

Unfortunately, so does everyone else.  Usually at the same time I want it.

Husband scores corn muffin

Just as I'm going for the salt, Gem spins it to the other side of the table.  I reach out for the beans only to see them whirl away in  Husband's quest for salad dressing.  The empty promises of Lazy Susan.  

Goodbye, Butter.  It wasn't meant to be.

2011 Reflections

Even though I have been completely AWOL for many months, dearest Salma thought to include me in her newest blogging venture, called 2011 Reflections.  You can read about it here.  I am going to take Salma's invitation to restart my blog as a blessing, and not worry about whether I deserve it.

Because one thing I learned last year is that blessings come when you least expect it – and have nothing to do with whether you deserve it or not.

In July 2011, I accidentally got a job.  I wasn’t looking for it. In the last few years, I have loved working very part time as an Early Steps provider and completely full-time as a mother and wife.  I had planned to continue that until Gem, now 15 and a high school sophomore, leaves for college in the fall of 2014.

I was spending a few weeks with my sister in Virginia while Gem was at a nearby science camp.  Cooking, working, and visiting with my Dearest Sis, playing, reading, sewing with the kiddos. 

My friend Lynn phoned from back home to say that a local public school (BCP) needed a teacher to work with preschoolers who have special needs.  She said that when I talked to BCP, I wouldn’t be able to say “no.”  I spoke with their special education committee over the phone.  Lynn was right.  When my husband agreed that I should give it a try, I did.  Gem and I arrived home August 1^st and I started work on the 2^nd.

Some of my unlooked-for blessings:

• The children: They’re always the best part of teaching.  Each day shows me a new side to each personality.  I have always said that being a preschool teacher is the most fun you can have and still get paid.
• My colleagues:  Because “my” kids are included in the “regular ed” (bad terminology, I know) classrooms, the teachers have to accept me into their domains.  In my experience, some teachers don’t play well with others.  At BCP I am fortunate to work with a warm, caring group of professionals who really put the needs of children and families uppermost.
• Meaningful, fulfilling work to do every day.  
• Learning that my family will pitch in with the housework.  I can’t seem to let go of my cleanliness/nutrition standards, but can’t keep up with it all on my own either.   Things aren’t so tidy as when I did it all, but it feels better somehow.  My favorite meal is when my husband makes breakfast for supper.
• An unexpected financial cushion. 

 When you least expect it, a blessing might come to you.  Open your heart and let it in.

Bullying: Not O.K.

Recently, Colette of Jamerican Spice posted about her son's experience being bullied in his kindergarten.  (http://jamericanspice.blogspot.com/2011/02/are-your-children-being-bullied.html)  I didn't like the solution the teacher gave.  Apparently, in the restroom some boys said that his behind smelled bad.  Predictably, he told the teacher.  Her solution was that he should pee inside of the stall, rather than in the urinal like other boys.  Why should he have to separate -- ostracize -- himself?  Shouldn't the bullies be made to stop?

I hate to hear the excuses adults give for not stopping children's bullying:

• "He didn't really mean it."
• "She's has a hard life; she's just acting out what she sees at home."
• "Don't make an issue of every little thing."
• "Can't he take a joke?"

and the worst:

• "She's got to learn to stand up for herself."

Of course, all of these things are true.  Sometimes, it is just a joke and we are oversensitive.  Certainly kids do try to process bad situations by re-enacting them (this time turning the tables and being the ones with all the power).  And, yes, kids do have to learn to stand up for themselves.  Whatever -- allowing child-on-child cruelty is not the solution.

As a classroom teacher (preschool/kindergarten), I know that bullying can be subtle and complex.  Sometimes it's hard to detect just who the instigator is.  Sometimes, the "victim" is actually the instigator, creating a situation in which he or she can get special attention.  Yes, sometimes.

One thing I did was to be realistic in knowing that there will be bullying at some point in time, by some children in the class, and forestall it (somewhat) by putting it out there and talking about it.  Why is bullying -- or any typical childhood behavior -- just taken as it comes?  We need to think it through and plan ahead of time for the inevitable.

I always considered myself a behavior "coach."  Just like a basketball coach models techniques and skills to move the ball, then watches his team as they practice, correcting and supporting them in their efforts, I did that with behavior.

I would set up a situation, model a "script," and let the kids role play.  

"What if I were playing with the red ball and Sara wanted it?  What could she do?  What could I do?"  We'd go from there and then a few kids would act out what we decided (with my guidance) would be a good way to negotiate the particular situation.  It was always very compelling because every child had been in both positions many times before throughout their young lives.  It was also effective.  I could hear the strategy playing out over and over again throughout the days following.  

"What if Mekhi and I were painting at the easel and he called me a Cuckoohead?  Is that o.k.?"  Same thing.

I would try to anticipate situations that were brewing and stop them before they got out of hand.

When bullying did occur, I would handle it immediately.  

First, I would have the bully apologize.  Not everyone agrees with this and with good reason.  Sometimes, children take an apology as a free pass.  "What?  I said I'm sorry."  They don't really mean it and their behavior isn't going to change.  I look at the apology as a manners issue.  It's words that help us get along in a civil society.  I figure as they grow up, they will learn the real meaning of an apology through many repeated encounters both as the apologist and apologee (not a word).

After that, they needed to make an appropriate reparation.  Did they take something?  Make fun of another?  Exclude someone?  They have to restore verbally and/or physically -- in a public way -- that thing.  Then we did a role-play of the specific situation.  This time, the right way.

"Let's pretend we're at lunch.  Shala, Leah, and Georgia see Lakesha coming towards their table.  OK, girls, what might be a good thing to say in this situation?"  By now they know the only acceptable thing is, "Hey Lakesha, come sit with us."  (Catty girl behavior does not just emerge in 7th grade.  If you're a girl, you know this.)

A few more groups of kids got to practice this too.  As a coach, I did not condemn the children who got it wrong.  They were not defined by their poor behavior.  Rather, I looked at it as a practice.  They needed my guidance and support to learn the correct behavior.  Just like that basketball player, they needed a coach to teach them the right techniques, postures, and moves to score.  This is no different -- and far more important.

Another thing I considered was whether it was an incident or a pattern.  If it was one incident, it went no further.  But if I saw a pattern, I brought in parents.  I approached it as a person concerned for their child's well-being, but who would tolerate no nonsense.  We talked about how problems are handled at home, what sibling dynamics are like, etc.  Frequently kids who bully feel they have no power.  It is never acceptable to get power at another's expense.

Kids do need to learn the script of standing up for themselves.  We practiced that too.  If Sara wanted the red ball when another had it, that went like this:

Sara:  "I want to play with the red ball.  Would you take the blue one?"

Acceptable response, "I like this one the best and waited to get it.  You can have it when I'm done."

Name-calling,

Mekhi, "You're a cuckoohead."

Acceptable response, "It's rude to call people names.  Stop right now."

When my daughter was in kindergarten, a boy in her class told her, "You're mom has a big butt."  Of course, this has nothing to do with anyone's actual hind end and everything to do with power.  Gem and I talked about it and various ways she could handle it.  Tell him to stop, ignore him, tell the teacher... The one she picked?  She laughed and said, "Oh yeah?  Say it one more time and she's going to come sit on you with that big butt."  Then kept playing with her friends (who also laughed; though one did say, "You're mommy's not fat."  Bless you, Catherine.).  And yes, we practiced it in the car on the way to school after she decided that's how she wanted to handle it.

Our children get their self-confidence from us.  When we give them our attention and respect, we are teaching them that they are worthwhile and should expect the world to treat them accordingly.  When we act justly and fairly, they learn to expect justice and fairness from the world.  When we react to the inevitable bad situations with calm self-advocacy they learn that too.

This is a hard issue with me.  The adults in my life did not teach me self-confidence and how to handle bullies effectively.  They did their best, but their best was "stand up for yourself."  (Then if you don't know how, you're somehow deficient?  Pile on the self-loathing.)  I am thankful that I came out of that dark place and now can nurture and protect the children entrusted to me.

Playful World Traveling

2009 was in some ways a low point in my life.  I was at a crossroads.  Some paths were closed off to me, some paths were newly opened to me, and some I wasn't sure how to find or if they were even there.  I had been through a very painful breach and learned that I had some friends who really weren't.  I felt like there was a hole in my heart, in my life.  (Sorry to be mysterious, but these are the essentials.)

The best way to go forward was to count my blessings every day and I began to do that.  My husband and daughter give me a reason to get up every day and make breakfast.  (I really started with the basics.)  My old (gradually less!) dilapidated house where something always needs painting, nailing, sewing, cleaning gives me employment when I need to not think...  I went back to graduate school (What's another 18 hours?).

I began to see a path through the wilderness of my mind:  a set of tasks to do every day, leading to a discernible end, building something worthwhile.  I wanted to talk about my feelings (but not dwell on the pain) and hear others' stories at the same time.  Self-help books and therapy didn't satisfy this.  I wanted a conversation in real time.

I started to sew again and found the world of YouTube stitch tutorials.  From there, I stumbled onto blogs.

Here was a group of people, all at different places on life's path.  Sometimes I feel I can help them, sometimes they help me, at all times we can support one another.  I am drawn to stories of family life, feminism, teaching, sewing and crafting, gardening, cooking.  Found some of those blogs.  I am interested in different cultures and ways of living, so I found some Amish blogs.

I went looking for Muslim blogs when a dear friend stopped wearing hijab because she felt threatened.  I listened to her (over coffee, what else?) with my heart in my throat, while her two little boys played at our feet.  She wants a good life for them -- doesn't want her "appearance" to hold them back.  What?!  That's just wrong.  I realized that I as a nonMuslim need to counter the negative climate by reaching out to sisters and brothers in Islam and celebrate our common humanity -- we need to not see any people as "other."

What I get in the blogosphere is encouragement and inspiration for myself every day -- and from people all over the world whom I never would have had the opportunity to know.  What a miracle!

I feel very fortunate to have found a true soul-sister in Salma of Visual Notes.  She wrote the Pledge of The Playful World Traveler.  Here's her link:

http://imperfectstepfordchronicles.blogspot.com/search/label/playful%20world%20traveling

As  a Playful World Traveler I PLEDGE to:


* blog with integrity


* understand that while I have {my own} opinions they can be hurtful to others


*reject notions, ideas & words that humiliate and isolate others


*understand that I inhabit various locations simultaneously

and

that I can be an oppressor as well as oppressed at the same time


*identify and celebrate differences without being something that I am not
and
NEVER defending who I am (my background, race, class etc)


*know that the world outside my window is a trifle of God's creation & be thankful for his mercy


*understand that we all experience and handle situations differently


*reach out to encourage & support other bloggers when they are faced with the negative aspects of life, and 
celebrate the positives ALWAYS


*celebrate the beauty of humanity/parenthood/sister-brotherhood  
(trying to be gender-neutral here, so it's not just for women)




Thanks for this, Salma.  I am lucky to have you as a friend.

Of a Certain Age

I just made my 48th birthday and I'm pretty happy about it.  I've got a pretty good life, all told.  Reasonably happy marriage and well-adjusted child:  check.  Meaningful work:  check.  Comfortable place to live:  check.  A very good life, really.   I've absolutely no cause to complain.

I'm also at the age where people stop saying, "She's good-looking," and start saying, "She looks good for her age."

OK, what's the big deal?  I do actually "look good for my age."   If I do say it myself.  People routinely think I am 10 or more years younger than I am.  I eat right (mostly), wear sunscreen (always), am reasonably active (mostly), get enough sleep (mostly), don't smoke or drink (mostly).  And I've got good genes -- my mother looks phenomenal for her age.  (...for her age, there it is again.)

Getting a few grays...to color or not to color?  A few lines...well, they're laugh lines, so that means I'm good-humored, right?

I've always been a low-maintenance, low-glamor type.  I don't wear makeup (can't see starting at this point), much jewelery, or even paint my nails.  I've never gone in for faddish dress (not since my college days, anyway).  Yet, I've always enjoyed looking good -- now I've got to settle for looking "good enough."

Sounds petty, I know.  But there it is.  Now back to our regularly scheduled aging.  Which definitely is better than the alternative, and for which I am sincerely grateful.

Fried Green Tomatoes

Where would I be without home grown tomatoes?  One great thing about life in the Deep South is the long growing season.  In fact, it's year round.  Well, until a freeze comes along and turns my tomatoes to mush.

Tomatoes are growing like crazy, harvesting continues apace in the cool January weather, until the weatherman predicts a freeze.  I could cover and coddle them, hoping they'll pull through.  But I'm not that kind of gardener -- any plant of mine needs to make it on its own.  So I rush out and pick everything off the vines.

Some I put into paper bags on the counter to ripen slowly over the next days and weeks.  But the rest are cooked immediately.  I slice them, sprinkle with salt and pepper, dip in an egg wash, then in seasoned cornmeal and fry them on medium-high.

My husband, just arriving home, steals a few crispy slices and eats them right up -- so hot they burn his tongue!  He says the delicious fragrance that hits him as he comes in the front door compels him and any collateral damage is totally worth it.

Fried green tomatoes is one of the joys of winter in the South.

How Many Do You Have?

Aunt needs help in the garden from someone with some muscles.  19-year-old nephew is college student perpetually in need of funds.  He comes over early to get a good start.

Aunt:  "Do you want some breakfast?  How about some scrambled eggs?  How many do you want"

Nephew:  "How many do you have?"

Aunt:  "Er, six?"

Nephew:  "Great...thanks!"

What?

So nephew eats six -- yes six -- eggs and a veritable mountain of various other breakfast foods, then worked like two horses for the rest of the morning.  Aunt pays generously, remembering when she was a broke college student.

New garden beds shaping up nicely.

Enough Religion

Jonathan Swift said, "We have just enough religion to hate, but not enough to make us love one another."  I resolve this year to love.

I have always believed that love is a decision, not just a feeling that happens to me.  I resolve this year to love my family, especially my husband and daughter.  I'm going to tell them so every day.

I am going to love other people too.  I have great neighbors and friends, but I don't have them over enough.  I will offer hospitality at least once a month, even if it's just coffee and dessert.  

Well, so much for the ones that are easy to love.  I get a great return on that investment already.  Now the real work starts.

There are these people who live in the next block.  All day long they seem to wander up and down the street, eating junk food and throwing their bags and bottles on the ground.  A couple of times a day, I pick it up with a scowl.  This year, I'm going to smile when I'm picking up neighborhood litter and invite those neighbors for coffee and dessert too.  And not call them "those people."  Or even think of them in those terms from this moment on.

Sometimes I miss opportunities to love because I fear rejection.  I resolve to sincerely try to help when I see a need.  I'm not going to worry about whether the person accepts me or my help.  I am just going to try.

I think I can muster enough religion for that.

Kind to Ourselves

There was a time that if ever I had a spare half hour, I would weed the garden, sew something, do some laundry, generally make myself useful.  My husband, on the other hand, would use his spare time to nap.  

I napped too, mind you; I just felt guilty about it.  An emotion to which my husband is, at least in matters of household chores, immune.  (He does things around the house, but his chores are unadulterated by guilt.)

I used to marvel at his capacity for what I perceived to be his self-indulgence.  No matter how much I did in a day, the unfinished portion of my to-do list seemed to loom much larger than the sum of my accomplishments.  How wrong I was.

I have noticed that women in general seem to have a talent for self-recrimination.  We are so ready to take the blame for whatever is going forward.  Why?  Why are we so hard on ourselves, hard on each other?  

When will we learn?  It's not our job to be perfect.  It's our job to do our best with what we've got -- sometimes not even that.  

It's our job to love.  We run ourselves ragged loving everyone else.  But we are created in God's image too -- it's our job to love ourselves just the same.  

I used to carry around so many worries, regrets, fears...it was like carrying around a sack of rocks.  I thought, what if I just drop this sack?  Stop worrying about everyone's expectations?  Lower my own expectations to those of an ordinary mortal?

What I learned is that I could take every day just as it is.  I learned I could look at each person and see the good in him or her.  I learned that I could see the good in myself.

Does this seem obvious?  It didn't to me.  Why are we women so reluctant to see the beauty in ourselves?  

Here is one of the many things I have learned from my husband:  when I have a spare half hour, I deserve a nap.  I am worthy.

Lots of Friends, but Only One Mother

Situation:  4 year old Gem wants to eat her breakfast in front of the TV.  My line in the sand:  we eat at the table together and have conversation.
Gem:  "Adrian gets to eat in front of the tv.  I want to too."
Me:  "Well, breakfast is on the dining room table.  If you want to eat, you need to sit here."
Gem:  "But I want to watch Dragon Tales."
Me:  "Then you're making a choice not to eat breakfast."
Gem:  "But I'm hungry!"
Me:  "Then come to the table."
Gem:  "But I want to watch Dragon Tales."

Around some more until it's time to brush teeth and go to preschool.  Kicking and screaming.  (her, not me)  I went on to teach my classes, waiting for a call from Child Welfare for starving my daughter.


Situation:  14 year old (high school freshman) Gem wants to go to Chloe's with a group of girls after school, then on to Andrew's for a party that evening.  My line in the sand:  I need to go to the party, meet the parents, and make sure it's a situation I approve of.

Gem:  "You don't trust me.  Chloe's mom will bring us and meet the parents."
Me:  "You are 14.  Papa and I are responsible for you.  Chloe's parents are responsible for Chloe."
Gem:  "How ridiculous to go home with Chloe, then to have you pick me up from there to go to the party. Why even go to Chloe's?!"
Me:  "OK, just come home after school.  All the girls can come home with you after school.  I'm happy to bring everyone to the party."
Gem:  "I am so embarrassed to tell Chloe that you don't trust her mom to see that she is supervised."
Me:  "Chloe's mom will understand that I have to see for myself.  I'm sure she feels the same way.  Do you want me to call her?"
Gem:  "Please no!  This is so embarrassing!  I'll probably just come home after exams tomorrow and skip Chloe's house and the party and LIFE IN GENERAL!  I bet you didn't have this kind of micromanagement as a teenager!  Memaw is so nice!"
Me:  "I'll tell you exactly what Memaw told me:  I am not your friend.  I'm your mother.  You'll have lots of friends throughout your life, but only one mother."

Blah blah more drama on Gem's part.  She even squeezes out a few tears.

20 minutes later, she comes back into the living room with a big smile:  "Chloe's mom says could you please bring half the girls?  It's too many for her car anyway and she wants to go in too.  She knows Andrew's parents and said Andrew's mom will probably like having more adults there anyway.  Afterward, can Chloe and Eva and Maylynn sleep over?  Can you make cinnamon rolls for breakfast and take us to the movies to see Tangled on Saturday?"

Who is this kid and what did she do with my drama queen?

The Toppletan

Aunts who don't have children spend an inordinate amount of energy and time plotting ways to spoil their nieces and nephews.  That was me for a lot of years -- I've got 24 nieces and nephews, almost all of whom were born prior to my Gem.  (Now I've got 14 great-nieces and -nephews too!)  I have one other sister (Jay) who was a similarly late starter.  (We're not the youngest, not even close.)

Jay and I loved and spoiled our nieces and nephews to the fullest extent permitted by their parents.  We took the girls to tea at fancy hotels, all the kids to the zoo and the park, for rides on the street car, to movies, baked with them, read with them, and generally loved them.  They could sleep over and destroy my house turning the living room into a fort with every pillow they could find.  My husband would just shake his head and smile.  He was powerless to resist.  (You know he loved it.)

For birthdays and Christmas, Jay and I would scour the stores to find just exactly that one gift that would speak to each child.  ND was making his 4th birthday.  Jay and I were leaving Macy's and she picked up a little striped tee shirt on the way out.  It was an afterthought, really; a cheap sale item.  

ND blew out his candles, opened that box, and it was love.  He pronounced it "the Toppletan" (?who knows?) and wore it constantly.  If it was dirty, he would dig it out of the hamper.  His mother (our sister) would complain about the Toppletan -- ND wouldn't take it off!  For Jay and me, the Toppletan came to mean the gold standard in gifts.  I love to make or find exactly the thing that will speak to the person's heart, that will be just what is needed to make him or her feel special.  When I shop, I am in search of the Toppletan.

Teachers usually get presents several times a year.  When I taught full time, I used to love the special handmade cards and pictures I got for various holidays, my birthday, and teacher appreciation day.  My husband used to love the bath salts, which I would just hand straight over to him when I got home.  (What can I say?  I'm a shower and go girl.)  Now that I no longer work in a school, he reeeeeally misses teacher appreciation day, poor guy.

I have used the expertise built up over years of teaching to find the really good teacher presents for Gem's teachers.  A couple of gifts I've given that I think her teachers liked best were gift certificates for a car wash (a really clean car is luxury) and homemade candied pecans.

I think I scored an end-of-the-year teacher Toppletan last May.  Gem drew a couple of pictures and I used my color printer to make them into note cards.  It was easy to find envelopes to fit and I used grosgrain ribbon to wrap 10 cards and envelopes together.  Teachers always need note cards, and these are much more meaningful than some I could just buy in a store.  I got such great feedback from her teachers, I gave them to grandparents (aunts too!).

I usually shop for presents all year long.  When I find what I think someone needs, I wrap it and stash it until the occasion presents itself.  (OK, sometimes I can't wait and I just have to give it to them right away.)  

Last year, I saw the "Easy Reach Grabber."  (a steal at under $5)  I right away realized that every little kid needs one.  I'm sure I needed one when I was a kid if only such a thing had existed in my world.  It was last Christmas's Toppletan.  Several hours on Christmas day were spent poking around the marsh in back of Memaw's house by children who couldn't care less about the expensive video games languishing upstairs.  

This year, I've got binoculars.  And LED headlamps.  Now that's what I'm talking about.  The Toppletan.

It's the Time of Year for a One House Open Sleigh

As a mother, I pick my battles.  Some things are worth arguing about and some are just not.  My test:  is it something they're going to do eventually anyway?  Don't sweat it.  Is it something they're not going to learn naturally?  That's where I put my effort.

So:  We are big on sitting down to a family dinner every night.  I insisted that my toddler sit at the table and learn manners that make her a pleasant dining companion.  After all, it's not uncommon for me to spend unpleasant time dining in company with adults who talk with food in their mouths, chew with their mouths open, don't use a napkin...you get the idea.  Ick.

On the other hand:  There was a period of almost a year when she was 3 that Gem insisted on wearing her shoes on the wrong feet.  Everywhere we went, people would say, "What an adorable little girl!"  and then whisper aside to me (as if I didn't know about it) "You know her shoes are on the wrong feet, Honey."  I would just smile wearily, "Yes.  That's how she likes it."  But honestly, I don't know any grown person who wears their shoes on the wrong feet, so I decided not to care.  (It may be a relief to you to know that this problem did resolve itself.)

Like all little kids, Gem would mix up words on a regular basis.  I am a teacher.  An early childhood person.  A reading specialist even.  But how I cherished those adorable mistakes!  I confess I often did not correct them.  

Once we were in a public place and my 2-year-old decided to sing the Star Spangled Banner at the top of her lungs with a special flourish at "the bombs burping in air."  She insisted that "Jingle Bells" were "on a one house open sleigh."  And the Little Star twinkled "like a diamond ring in the sky."  

There was a little song I used to sing, "The red light says to stop.  The green light says to go.  And in between the yellow light says, 'Caution, now go slow.'"  That ended up as "And beenatween the yellow light says, 'Carwash, now go slow."

Makes perfect sense to me.

First You Make a Roux

I love any occasion that encourages me to get together with those I love and spend the day cooking and eating.  Now it's 2 days later and in every home across the country, scrumptious leftovers are dwindling quickly.  Here in south Louisiana, turkey on Thanksgiving Day is just a preamble to deliciousness to come:  turkey gumbo.  And like so many good Louisiana recipes, it starts with a roux.


Here's my recipe:


turkey carcass with whatever leavings of meat are on it; I usually cut it into 4 pieces so they fit nicely in the pot
1/2 cup flour
3 tablespoons vegetable oil (not olive -- peanut is good because it can take high temperatures)
1 cup coarsely chopped yellow onions
1/2 cup coarsely chopped bell peppers
1/4 cup chopped celery
1 bunch flat leaf parsley, finely chopped (or a couple of tablespoons of dried if that's what you have)
water or broth to cover
1 or 2 bay leaves
1 teaspoon thyme
1/2 to 1 pound andouille sausage (or other smoked sausage you like) cut into 1/4 inch rounds
cayenne pepper and salt to taste
1 bunch finely chopped green onions
file powder (ground sassafrass root)


First you make a roux:  In your soup pot, combine oil and flour over medium heat, stirring/scraping continuously until the flour cooks to a medium brown color.  Some like it really dark, but there's a fine line between dark and burned.  Once I crossed that bitter line and the house smelled dreadful for days. (Seemed like days.)  Now I stay on the safe side and stop when it's about the color of peanut butter.


Throw in onions, bell peppers, celery, and parsley and saute until the vegetables are wilted.


Add turkey pieces and sausage.


Add enough water or broth to cover all the ingredients by at least an inch.  Don't worry if you add too much -- you can always just cook it longer to reduce.  You just don't want to add too little.  Actually, if you add too little, you can still just add more as needed.


Add salt and cayenne to taste.


Cook for a couple of hours partially covered so that the liquid can reduce.  Stir every so often.  Or if you have a husband who cannot resist stirring, let him do it whenever he wanders into the kitchen.  I'm married to a stirrer.


It's done when the meat is falling off the bones and the broth is the consistency you like. (I like it pretty thick.)  Fish out the bare bones and icky bits (skin) at the very end -- they add flavor and texture to the soup while it's cooking.  I also skim off the oil, though some people like to leave it.


Serve over fluffy rice and throw a handful of green onions onto the top of each serving.  I let everyone add their own file at the table.  (Some like it, some don't.)


So good.  I like it with cornbread.

Smack in the Middle of Satsuma Season

For shame!  I walked into a local supermarket the other day and saw this display right at the front door:

Why are these clementines from 500 miles away taking up prime grocery real estate?

Nothing against clementines, but our local satsumas are a toothsome, fragrant mandarin orange that has been grown here for well over 100 years. 

This is what should be at the front of every supermarket in the Gulf South right now:

Satsumas may not be showy, but they're soooooooo good!

Okay, they're kinda ugly compared to the perfectly shaped and uniformly orange clementines.  They are all shades of orange, yellow, and green when ripe.  Their skin is lumpy and loose -- so easy to peel.  They are sweet, tender, juicy, and practically seedless.  Around our house, we just live for satsuma season.  

Thank you, Clementine, but while satsumas are in season we have no need for other citrus.

Katrinas' Blessings

Usually when people talk about Hurricane Katrina and its aftermath of flooding and devastation for the Gulf South, particularly New Orleans, they emphasized the -- very real -- tragedy of it all.  I want to talk about the blessings, just as real, it has brought.

It was with a feeling of new possibilities that my family returned in late 2005 to our ruined city, confident that we would help to rebuild it better.  We desperately needed political, judicial, and educational reform.  I was bitterly disappointed as one after another old problem crept back in.  Crime and corruption seemed as rampant as ever and the bad old days seemed to be back to stay.

In the last year, though, I've come to realize that I was wrong.  Reform is taking hold; it just didn't happen as fast as I thought it would.  It takes years to turn around a system so broken, decades even, but it's already starting to show.

Moving Slide Into Place

Around the corner from our house is a school that was scary bad before the storm.  It was a middle school (grades 6 - 8) with poor discipline, failing students, a crumbling building.  Now it is an elementary school, grades K - 8. 

When it first reopened, it seemed to be more of the same.  During morning arrival and afternoon dismissal, slouching kids would loiter around the entrance.  Their dress was slovenly, they would litter on the street, and the way the boys talked to the girls -- so disrespectful.

In the last two years, there has been a change for the better.  In the mornings and afternoons, teachers are outside smiling and chatting with the children, parents, and bus drivers.  The kids are mannerly and pleasant to the neighbors.  Academics are measurably improved.  The principal doesn't crow about the achievement gains, though, because she's not satisfied with where they are -- yet.

Painting a Really Cool Hop Scotch Board

Yesterday, the neighborhood and school communities united to build a new playground and generally spruce up the place.  Two wealthy local families footed the bill and KaBoom! organized the almost 600 volunteers to turn barren concrete into a great place for children to play and learn.  

Starting to Look Like Something!

It was amazing to meet the teachers, parents, and kiddos and peek into some of the classrooms.  (kindergarten -- my fave!)  This school could not have existed 5 years ago.  And now it's only one of many.  If this trend holds, it's no exaggeration to say that even my dreams for a transformed city will be realized.

Every Day Beauties

I love to garden (despite the fact that I have been shamefully remiss in my current garden where I have lived for more than 2 years already).  I love all flowers and vegetables and growing things and the wildlife they bring:  bugs, butterflies, and hummingbirds.  My lush, showy roses and bougainvillea make my heart sing every time I look at them.

Some of my favorites, though, are quiet beauties that most passersby might not even notice.

Waiting for Me to Come Along

Most of my neighbors view obedient plant as a weed.

Angelle Was Here

This insignificant perennial lies on the ground waiting for me to come along.  When I do, I always touch the leaves.  They  obediently fold up.  How fun is that?

Spanish moss is very common;  but could never be mundane.  It has a gossamer beauty all its own.  I usually see it in live oaks or cypress trees, but here it is growing  right on my crape myrtles.

Soon I hope to start my gardening in earnest.  Really, where I live it's hard not to have a garden.  If something gets stuck in the ground, it pretty much grows like crazy.








One of my neighbors with a sense of humor got a garden upgrade when she recently redid the bathroom.

Now that's something you don't see every day.

vvvvvvv 

Tearing Down the House

I am grateful for all the children in my life.  Even when they're doing their best to tear the house down and kill themselves in the process.

My dear friend Yasmeen has twin boys, 18 months old:  "Y" and "Z."  Neither she nor her husband has family locally and she has never left the children with anyone but their father.  She has recently been having health problems, though, and when the doctor's office called to say a time slot had opened up in the afternoon, she had to take it.  I was just so excited and honored when she asked me to watch the boys!  I offered to go to their apartment, but Yas decided to bring them here.

Just to say, I am a loving and competent baby sitter.  But these guys were way faster than me.  And somehow in the years since Gem was little, my house has become filled with sharp corners exactly at toddler eye level, drawers and doors waiting to pinch little fingers, lamps just a touch away from crashing to the floor and cutting small bare feet.

The minute Yas left, they were off and running in opposite directions.  I wrangled them downstairs and outside.  We went for a walk during which they attempted to throw themselves in front of moving cars, insert their fingers into the mouth of the neighbor's German shepherd, and enter every house on the block.

The nice lady two doors down has several cats.  Which eat from several bowls stashed around the front porch.  How was I to know that Y and Z love cat food?  Actually, I can remember a time when Gem ate it every chance she got too.

Hey, it's got nutrients.

When we got home, they played the piano with Gem and Y helped me cook supper.  He's quite the chef given his own empty pot and wooden spoon.  Perfect timing:  they started to get fussy just as I was ready to serve.  Gem and I put some old tee shirts over their clothes to serve as bibs and spooned them full of pasta and meatballs.

I could see them starting to rub their eyes and get a little whiny, so I felt a bath was in order.  Cue wailing and tearing of hair.  And that was just to get their clothes off.  I thought for sure once they got into the tub all would be well.  All children love to play in the water, right?  Wrong.  Now I know.

Thank goodness that's just when Yas returned with o.k. news from the doctor (not terrible; not great) and a little time spent all by herself.  (Bless her.)  And a Y and Z so happy to see their mommy!

After everyone left, Gem and I just looked at one another, dazed.  Really, my hat is off to mothers of twins.  I am in awe of what Yas does every day with such grace and serenity.

And Gem and I are already planning what to do next time we get to spend an evening with Y and Z. (Big smile!)