tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37901783074500691252024-02-20T09:45:26.797-05:00Kids, Canines, and ChaosKids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.comBlogger705125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-77972862364648670632012-05-17T15:25:00.001-04:002012-05-17T15:25:26.088-04:00Dead rats and other randomness...<div>Recess is one of my favorite times with the kiddos. Seeing these kids, who have significant behavior issues, engaging in age-level appropriate play with other students really makes me feel like maybe I'm making a difference in their lives. It also helps that I'm surrounded by approximately 50 students who are not in my classroom and are super cute because I don't have to deal with them, except for 15 minutes while I'm outside, soaking up the rays, dreaming of being on a far away beach... sipping a margarita. Wait. Nevermind. Just soaking up the rays. I'm totally watching those kids with eyes like a hawk, making sure they are playing appropriately. I would never let my mind wander while I'm on the job.</div> <div> </div> <div>Back to my point. Recess pretty much rocks. At least at my school. I know other teachers dread it, but I really enjoy it. It's all fun and games, though, <strong>until a kid brings you a dead rat. </strong></div> <div><strong></strong> </div> <div>Thank all things holy that the kids were wise enough to bring it to my amazing teaching assistant (who promptly screamed like a girl ((he's a boy)) and demanded they throw that "gross thing down!") instead of me. </div> <div> </div> <div>I thought I was in the clear until my little red-headed bundle of fun grabbed my hand and demanded I look at the dead rat because, "It's kind of like a science experiment." and his side kick who demanded I look, "because we all have to face our fears at some point. I looked at the bugs and I'm TOTALLY scared of bugs, so you should look at the dead rat who is missing its head so you're not scared of it anymore." </div> <div> </div> <div>*&%!!!!! How do I argue with that logic? I couldn't explain to them that I wasn't afraid, it was really just because who wants to see a dead rat that's missing its head?</div> <div> </div> <div>Certainly not me. </div> <div> </div> <div>And that's when I decided recess was <em>over</em>. </div> Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-89948077457394823702012-05-11T11:47:00.001-04:002012-05-11T11:47:05.693-04:00Things cute kids say...<div>Some of the better quotes from the past few days....</div> <div> </div> <div><strong>"Eeeeeeew! He just spit. I just stepped in second hand spit. I really hope he doesn't have a sickness. I better make sure I don't put my shoes in my mouth, just in case."</strong> ~<em>Hold up. Second hand spit? Doesn't exist. Also, I'm pretty sure you should never put your shoes in your mouth, regardless of what you stepped in. It's just the sanitary thing to do.</em></div> <div><em></em> </div> <div><strong>"Whoa! Look at that blazing ball of blindness in the sky."</strong></div> <div>~<em>Nice use of alliteration. Guess someone paid attention during our poetry unit.</em></div> <div> </div> <div><strong>"I'm pretty sure not everyone loves glitter as much as you do. I don't think my mommy would like pink glitter. She's not weird like you."</strong> ~<em>Listen up, kid.I'm not weird. I'm normal. If your mom doesn't like pink glitter, that's her problem. Not mine. You should still rock the pink glitter and tell her to suck it up. In my class? We use pink. And we like it. As evidenced by all of my boys answering pink! when asked their favorite color. <strong>Booyah.</strong> I win. Score one for the pink lovers of the world.</em></div> <div><em></em> </div> <div><strong><em>"</em>Do you really think I like being here? It's like torture!"</strong> ~<em>Wow! For once we actually agree! Putting up with your shenanigans really is a medieval torture chamber. Either that or I'm a masochist. </em></div> <div><em></em> </div> <div>These kids crack me up. It's a wonder I can actually keep a straight face when they throw these lines at me. </div> <div> </div> <div>In other awesome-sauce news in my classroom, this was the first year I've gotten Teacher Appreciation Week gifts! Of course it's not all about the gifts, but really? I put up with your child for a really long time. Your super naughty child. The one who throws things at me and tells me to shut the f*ck up. You could send me a cookie. I do love cookies. But this year? I got gifts everyday this week. And not just from the parent who is a teacher. From more than half of my kids. I'm pretty spoiled this year. None of the other teachers on my team got gifts. Not a single one. </div> <div> </div> <div>My favorite gift? The pink dry erase marker. Hell yeah. Pink? And I can use it on my board. Booyah. </div> Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-89471562232921859212012-05-08T17:42:00.001-04:002012-05-08T17:42:11.641-04:00{It's been awhile...}<div>Sorry about that. Wish I had some really awesome story about how a pteradactyl attacked me, but the reality is.. it was just life getting in the way. </div> <div> </div> <div>Here's what's been going on around these parts...</div> <ul> <li>Finished my SECOND 1/2 marathon this weekend. Beat my time by 14 minutes. That's pretty huge. Please don't think I'm some super runner, it's really because I ran very slowly the first race. Plus, I knew what I was doing the second time around. That always helps.</li> <li>I now have 8 students. Yes, you read that correctly. I started with 2. I'm at 8. I freakin' quadrupled my class in less than 8 months. Oh and my super-awesome, ridiculously-supportive assistant? She had the audacity to move. Gah. My life was turned upside down rather quickly. Basically I'm lucky to be alive right now. {OK.. I'm being dramatic, but you get my drift}</li> <li>I'm planning a totally fantastic bridal shower for the cuz. You should be jealous that I'm not your MOH. I'm rockin' this shower. </li> <li>My kiddos are totally wild and crazy, but oh-so-darned-cute. I have a few who have really turned out some awesome comments. Of course, I can't remember them now. I *promise* to be better about writing them down. For some reason, I seem to have my hands full every second of the day with those hooligans, so remember a funny comment is really difficult. But I will work on it. Promise. </li> </ul> <div>That's it for now. I'll be back, soon. Hopefully. If not, send a search party. Mmmmmkay?</div> Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-47312624896434181742012-03-18T15:50:00.000-04:002012-03-18T15:51:05.435-04:00I did it!<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje51a_4sLECippA5lsKll5163orID_vziS-KoJRf9QJjZbDU4FRYYoIZ-AMmGsYt-tN66XsufiIQ57vtILNd17gY2VRSGcMZXKB03l-8Te61f4FKq3PZK5KTy8-asd7AAGwx_dfNU7b4c6/s1600/photo-765437.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje51a_4sLECippA5lsKll5163orID_vziS-KoJRf9QJjZbDU4FRYYoIZ-AMmGsYt-tN66XsufiIQ57vtILNd17gY2VRSGcMZXKB03l-8Te61f4FKq3PZK5KTy8-asd7AAGwx_dfNU7b4c6/s320/photo-765437.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721327078825873698" /></a></p>Finished. I did it. We did it. It was awesome. Here I am with running partner and friend, Jessica. Full details layer. After I finish my school work, spend time with my mom, and recover.Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-74709612687095108142012-03-16T12:31:00.000-04:002012-03-16T12:32:02.076-04:00Picasso?<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgII6Eunbr4foPPabqntmay-SzIeReJjXhTX8iVH7x4LYAoQfqDkDQGU6_zJsENFOf-yeUaUS2Xf3CqSYWJSJ_cwycq9VPd79yPWmNqN6BjAgNmlKHqVYDENiM_DHTT8WOPSgj6Riqpgdw4/s1600/IMAG0305-722076.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgII6Eunbr4foPPabqntmay-SzIeReJjXhTX8iVH7x4LYAoQfqDkDQGU6_zJsENFOf-yeUaUS2Xf3CqSYWJSJ_cwycq9VPd79yPWmNqN6BjAgNmlKHqVYDENiM_DHTT8WOPSgj6Riqpgdw4/s320/IMAG0305-722076.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720533612631348482" /></a></p><p>This is a drawing of my "pretty pink toes" created by one if my little darlings. </p> <p>Oddly enough, I can actually see the resemblance. </p> Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-24970880126999522012012-03-12T22:04:00.000-04:002012-03-12T22:04:52.462-04:00March Madness...<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">My half marathon is in 5 days. EEEK!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">{Holy crap. I cannot believe it}</span> </span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijWdkGwihi2lhqd5KZ3bRUpDlzUSx4P2i3gzQeLgdMfZgbJQyW68ytNKWNFcu_pmEyILAGaOmpFVPfSsd32Mgm-eXW5vtpdImS7-fx7LKQe7r7VcPulvhMN4zfsrP9cm8OW5N7pR2MVqCp/s1600/IMAG0303.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijWdkGwihi2lhqd5KZ3bRUpDlzUSx4P2i3gzQeLgdMfZgbJQyW68ytNKWNFcu_pmEyILAGaOmpFVPfSsd32Mgm-eXW5vtpdImS7-fx7LKQe7r7VcPulvhMN4zfsrP9cm8OW5N7pR2MVqCp/s320/IMAG0303.jpg" width="191" yda="true" /></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong>{That's me ROCKIN' my ostrich t-shirt}</strong></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">An ostrich?! Yup. You see.. during a training run (of 12 freaking miles) running buddy Jessica and I happened to run (pun intended, duh!) across an ostrich. Technically it was an emu, but I was scared to death so I couldn't <em>quite </em>make out the difference. I proceeded to run for my mother loving life because I'm scared to high heavens of any animal that could even look like it might want to fly (i.e. has wings) and this was just the biggest darn bird I'd ever laid eyes on. Jessica informed me I ran faster than she's ever seen me run and she was all like, "I'm going to pretend I'm an ostrich and chase you so you'll run fast for the half". While I was all like, "I'd freaking run from you if you were an ostrich!" It was in those <em>tender </em>moments that the idea of an ostrich shirt was born. </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I set off to find an ostrich shirt. And boy did I ever find one. Thankyouverymuch, Etsy! He's pretty darn cute. The initials are in memory of our fathers, as we both lost our dads at a young age. It was a great way to make a statement and treasure the memories of our dads. It is <strong>very </strong>important to both of us that our fathers are part of such a big day in our lives. The back of my shirt says, "I'm running from the ostrich" and Jessica's says, "I am the ostrich". </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong>Yeah. We're pretty awesome. </strong></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I pinky promise to post pictures after the race. Assuming I don't die. Or get trampled by an ostrich.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-29226101925945346222012-02-27T19:55:00.000-05:002012-02-27T19:55:47.310-05:00Crazy Dreams...Okay, ya'll. I've had some crazy dreams lately. We're talking out of the ordinary, so real it makes you think it actually happened, dreams. But the worst part is, I've been doing crazy things in my sleep, too. <br />
<br />
Dream 1- I was searching for a document that I HAD to have. <br />
Crazy part- I woke up and I was digging through my dresser drawers. When I woke up, I realized I was sleep walking and went to bed. In the morning, I found my <em>other </em>dresser open and stuff was out of it. Which means I had gone through one dresser and taken out my <em>unmentionables</em> and put them on the floor. Holy crap! I didn't wake up when I was going through my first dresser. Um.. weird.<br />
<br />
Dream 2- I was wearing a retainer that didn't fit and was super uncomfortable. I had to keep repositioning it in my dream so parts wouldn't keep ripping apart my mouth. I was wearing the retainer because my teeth were falling out.<br />
Crazy part- I woke up and my mouth was torn up in the back where I was digging in my sleep. Seriously? I <strong>hurt</strong> myself in my sleep.<br />
<br />
I'm thinking this is all probably stress induced, but seriously? I'm not getting good sleep AND I'm making my room a mess and hurting myself. <br />
<br />
Weird.Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-37709181876270801682012-02-22T20:36:00.000-05:002012-02-22T20:36:25.188-05:00{There Are No Words...}<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgExY_fil4SsqAl6TPQatxPKT_bRMNZcpQYHSt3JjfHRJkhEFD3htMxoukxyRLHq7LalF0XaGaoUKCs7vekSA2FAJH9STfYyTiJd6WRBrzf4rC4GZYd-A5Lyd3KGUwFCLh4B6Ww6vOssW5A/s1600/IMAG0284%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" lda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgExY_fil4SsqAl6TPQatxPKT_bRMNZcpQYHSt3JjfHRJkhEFD3htMxoukxyRLHq7LalF0XaGaoUKCs7vekSA2FAJH9STfYyTiJd6WRBrzf4rC4GZYd-A5Lyd3KGUwFCLh4B6Ww6vOssW5A/s320/IMAG0284%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center">This was my Valentine's Day surprise. </div><div align="center">Please note: <em>I despise hearts. Anything heart shaped makes me want to gag. </em></div><div align="center"><em>And we had a strict "no gift policy"</em></div><div align="center">Oh! To top it off? My house was also decorated with approximately 9 heart shaped balloons.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">It's a good thing he's cute or I would have to kill him.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">In all honesty, though, it was in good fun. My dad was a really big jokester, so it made me laugh (and cry) to think about how much fun my dad would have had hearing that story. I'm pretty sure he high fived B from heaven that day.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"></div>Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-15915227127475298732012-02-21T19:28:00.001-05:002012-02-21T19:29:11.470-05:00Puss 'n Boots...Me: Let's use sound spelling to write that word. Get ready. What sound do you hear first in puss? <br />
Lil big man: Ew! You said a bad word! <br />
Lil man: Puss n Boots is a bad word? (tears begin flowing...)<br />
Me: No, darling. Puss is a lovable character in a movie.<br />
Lil big man: It sounds like what my brother calls me. <br />
Me: Your brother calls you puss? That's not nice to call someone a cat.<br />
Lil big man: I didn't know p*$$y meant cat. <br />
Lil man: So how do I spell p*$$y? <br />
<br />
Oh my. Disney, please refrain from using names like that in popular movies. Mmmmkay? <br />
<br />
Also, a kid told me his dad sat on him. I really wanted the details, but we were getting ready to move along. I mean, those kind of stories are always better from the mouths of babes. It wasn't until his mom called that I got the details. Apparently his dad sat on him because he was being silly and they were play fighting.<br />
<br />
I can't wait to have kids so I can sit on them.Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-10222556697638879592012-02-09T08:03:00.001-05:002012-02-09T08:03:45.747-05:00Full Moon<div>Oh my! I don't know about any of you, but the past few days have been one act shy of a three ring circus around these parts. We're talking <em>cuh-ray-zee</em>! </div> <div> </div> <div>How crazy? I thought you might ask.</div> <div> </div> <div>I've had two death threats. (only one was legit-- like the little guy could really bring a gun from home and actually kill me)</div> <div>A fit over a dead spider that was the size of a comma. </div> <div>A fist to within inches of my face. </div> <div>A chair thrown at me, but I'm pretty much a ninja when stuff like that happens, so no chance that was going to hit me.</div> <div> </div> <div>And all of that was on top of the <em>regularly </em>scheduled events such as reading, math, art, etc. </div> <div> </div> <div>I'm ready for this week to be OVER.</div> <div> </div> Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-57605519529265605402012-01-30T18:10:00.000-05:002012-01-30T18:10:55.444-05:00Say what?!I may or may not have said the name for a male chicken (c0ck) and the f bomb today. Before 12:00, no less.<br />
Both were total accidents and I'm not even sure the kids heard me or understood what the big deal was.<br />
<br />
I'm <em>TOTALLY</em> in line for Teacher of the Year. Totally.Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-62595942603122510082012-01-30T03:23:00.001-05:002012-01-30T03:23:00.082-05:00God is in my heart...Little Big Man was reading with me the other day when he got right in my face and told me, "God is in my heart!" I smiled and asked him to keep reading. Not because I'm insensitive, but mainly because we were short on time and I really needed him to finish reading. Also because he's reeeeeally good about getting me off task and then we completely run out of time to finish whatever it is we've started. <br />
<br />
He then ran over to another adult in the room and loudly told her, "God is in my heart!" and then quickly ran away.<br />
<br />
The kid she was working with said, "What's God?". And being the super-awesome assistant she is, she referred him to me. You know, because I totally have the answer to that one and certainly can talk about it in school. Right? <em>Wrong. </em><br />
<br />
So Little Man came over to me and asked me, "What's God?!". Georgie was totally freaked out about this and SCREAMED, "God is not a WHAT, he's a WHO!"<br />
<br />
Oh my.Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-48448218826668443772012-01-29T15:22:00.000-05:002012-01-29T15:22:17.918-05:00Ninja kicks, big mouth, and attempting to teach America's youth about the importance of MLK, Jr.Ya'll, I've been busy. Seriously bi-zy. We're talking running 3 days a week, finishing up grad school, and totally attempting to organize the mass chaos in my classroom (AKA, I'm a circus clown and damn proud of it!). I've tripled my class size in just 4 weeks. I left for Christmas with 2 and came back to 4, now I'm at 6. The good news for all of you? I shall now properly blog because I'll actually have something to talk about. <br />
<br />
One of my new friends, we shall call him Ted, is <em>all</em> boy. And he has the attention span of a gnat. Which totally keeps me on my toes, but makes it virtually impossible to teach him. He makes me laugh about every twenty seconds because you just <strong>never</strong> know what might come out of his mouth. <br />
<br />
So the other day, Ted does this amazing ninja kick of sorts, which sort of resembles a karate kick but he swears it's a ninja kick, and almost knocks over about 12 pieces of furniture. He immediately begins complaining about his arm hurting him. And I'm all, "Duuuuuude, did you learn a lesson from that? I mean you almost knocked over the computer." To which he responds, "Yeah, you should <strong>always</strong> stretch before doing a ninja kick!". <br />
<br />
<em>Lesson learned. </em><br />
<br />
I've also added a new young lady to the mix. She's a barrel of fun. Seriously. In fact, we'll refer to her as Curious Georgianne, or Georgie for short. She lives up to her name, for many reasons. <br />
<br />
So, we were doing an experiment comparing green, white, and brown eggs to prepare for our kick off to study MLK, Jr. As we were "investigating" our eggs, I handed the students hand lenses. As soon as she picked that bad boy up, she was looking at everything around the room, commenting on how everything is bigger. Then she panned to my face, and loudly (she doesn't do ANYTHING quietly) proclaims, "Oh my goodness! You have a REALLY BIG MOUTH!". <br />
<br />
<em>Thanks, Georgie. I could say the same about you.</em><br />
<br />
As we continued our "investigation" we examined the eggs, noticing they were different on the outside. Then we cracked them open and they were the same-- just like humans! (all together now, awwwww!) We cooked them up and saw they tasted the same, too. As I was trying to bring it all together, I asked the group how eggs were like humans? Georgie loudly (I told you, she doesn't do anything quietly) explains that eggs are just like humans because "we both came from a boy and a girl.. and began as small eggs... and.." <br />
<br />
<em>Seriously? </em><br />
<br />
I cut her off, summarized it on my own and moved along. I can only imagine if I had let her go. I would have a lot of parent phone calls asking me to explain that one.Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-8472342031546052552012-01-19T13:01:00.001-05:002012-01-19T13:01:23.370-05:00Sight Word Shout Out..<div>As I was doing a sight word assessment on my little fellas, Mr. Wiggles (one of my new students-- I'll elaborate more later, but his name on here is totally fitting) read the word <font size="6">hot. </font></div> <div><font size="6"></font> </div> <div>"That's what you are, Ms. L. Hot. The hottest teacher, ever."</div> <div> </div> <div>Duh. </div> Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-23159562996351400792012-01-18T19:39:00.000-05:002012-01-18T19:39:31.409-05:00{crickets...}Sorry for the absence. No excuses. Just life. I'm training for a half marathon and, well.. that sh!t just gets in the way. I use that term because, well, I'm not a runner and therefore it's more like torture than pleasure. So, it's preeeeeety sh!tty. <br />
<br />
I will leave you this little gem of a conversation between me and my beloved running buddy (i.e. the lovely "friend" who twisted my arm to run 13.1 miles. Which, by the way, happens to be approximately 13 miles longer than I prefer to run!) on facebook. Obviously the names have been changed to protect the <em>innocent</em>.<br />
<br />
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Long Legged Lucy: Note to self: if you run through mud and then allow your shoes to dry but do not clean them off, you will have mud in your carpet. Genius.</span></span></h6><span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>Me: I made the same mistake. Except Nicole told me to jump up and down, causing there to be three times as much mud on the wood floors. Equally as dumb. </strong></span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"><span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Long Legged Lucy: </span></span>Did you have a total freak out that it was dog poop at first? Because I did. Then I remembered that we walked up that hill.</strong></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"><span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"><span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong><span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>Me: </strong></span></span>I was more freaked that my shoes were muddy at any given point. Then I remembered it made us legit runners and I wasn't sad anymore. </strong></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"><span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"><span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We totally aren't legit runners (well, she is but I'm just a poser..) but we felt like it after completing 5 miles on a blistery Saturday. I should also note that for the first 3 miles I complained non-stop about having to make a pit stop to go #2 until she finally caved and let me go. Something about running makes me have to poop. Weird. </span></span></span></span><br />
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"></span> </h6>Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-50240122300082071112012-01-05T08:03:00.001-05:002012-01-05T08:03:25.689-05:00A Teacher's Rant...My life has been turned upside down at the land of chaos. You see, I<br>started the year off with 2 students. Yes, you read that correctly. I<br>was teaching 2 students each day. With an assistant. And an intern.<br>(As wonderful as that sounds, it's actually not so great. Try being<br>the conductor of a circus that contains more adults than kids-- adults<br>kinda suck sometimes.)<p>We added two more to the mix. Chaos has ensued.<p>It's actually kind of a lovely sort of chaos, as I enjoy a challenge<br>and these two new kids are sure to provide that. Also? The originals,<br>as I lovingly refer to them, are a little bitter about having to share<br>my attention. Turns out all of these kids really only want the<br>attention from the teacher, me. Nobody else. Just me.<p>Crap. There's only one of me and 4 of them. They are all attention<br>whores and demand my attention RIGHT THIS MINUTE.<p>But the best part? They actually talk. A lot. (again, normally not<br>something I would enjoy.. but ya'll.. it's been so quiet and quiet<br>means no blogging material, duh!) And because of that talking, I can<br>assure you I will have blog material.<p>Just as soon as I can get my head above water.Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-73883390988320252872012-01-05T07:58:00.001-05:002012-01-05T07:58:52.746-05:00Auto-correct FAIL.Actual text...<p>Sorry! I'm at a baby shower. I have to cancel genitals night.<p>Wait! Not genitals. Fajitas. Fajitas! Food. Not body parts.<p>Made all the better because it was to The Boy. I'm wondering how long<br>it will take to live this one down... Oi vey.Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-76370631817742136192011-12-22T07:51:00.001-05:002011-12-22T07:51:25.344-05:00Simple Pleasures..<div>One of our local radio stations does a segment every Thursday morning titled, "Simple Pleasures". People call in and share things that are very small but make a huge impact. Every week I listen to the things people share and think about how blessed I am. This was a huge eye opener today, of all days. </div> <div> </div> <div>It seems every morning I have been driving to work nearly in tears because of a song or a Christmas miracle that was shared on the radio. This morning? Instead of playing Pity Party of One, I realized I need to count my simple pleasures, especially during a time of year that is so painful because of my father's passing. You see, this will be our first "official" Christmas without my Dad. Last year we were all just in a dark hole and cancelled Christmas. This is also our first family vacation without my dad.</div> <div> </div> <div>While I've spent many nights anxious about what is to come, I now have a renewed sense of peace. While my dad will not be with us physically, he will be with us in our hearts. A place he will never leave. My family and I are so very fortunate to travel this Christmas to the sunny beaches of Curacao (off the coast of Venezuela, if you're wondering) and we will be together. Together. Something many families cannot do, whether it be due to miles, work commitments, or deployment. We will be together. </div> <div> </div> <div>And that, my friends, is my simple pleasure. Togetherness. </div> Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-65545305900556031902011-12-18T12:07:00.000-05:002011-12-18T12:07:57.180-05:00Weiner....dogs?Little Big Man came in with a new t-shirt today. It was, uh, a little <em>inappropriate. </em><br />
<br />
It said, "I love my wiener" with a picture of a wiener dog. The best part? Trying to explain to him why the shirt was inappropriate. I said something to the effect of, "Your shirt is talking about wiener dogs, but not everyone understands that. Someone might think you're talking about your, uh, well, uh, privates." <br />
<br />
When he went to time out (in another room with another adult), he told the adult, "My shirt is <em>appropriate</em>. It's talking about wieners. Your wiener is your private." Yes, he totally meant inappropriate but said it wrong. The adult was all sorts of confused. <br />
<br />
Um.. hello? You sent your child in to school with a shirt referencing wieners? Wow. Klassy.Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-4205035242060800492011-12-13T20:56:00.000-05:002011-12-13T20:55:51.650-05:00365 days...One year ago today, I lost my father. <p>My mom put it well when she commented on Facebook about the things she had learned through this. Besides the crazy emotions, she mentioned the importance of time and compassion for others. <p>Please take time to tell those you love how much they mean to you. Have compassion for others, as you don't know what they are going through. If anyone would have crossed paths with me today, they may have mistaken my crabby attitude for someone who is just plain rude. Instead, I was having a hard time keeping my emotions in check. But to the cashier who smiled and told me to be blessed, I thank you. Your kind words reminded me to count my blessings. While I can't hug my dad physically, or hear his laugh, I can remember the hugs we shared and the jokes he told. <p>I am still grieving and will be for some time, but I'm thankful to be surrounded by those who care for me. I'm thankful for a roof over my head and food on the table. I have heat that works and will have a wonderful Christmas. I'm luckier than a lot of people this Christmas because of that.<p>And because I have a guardian angel looking down on me. <p>Sent from my iPadKids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-41000933832659582272011-12-05T18:27:00.000-05:002011-12-05T18:27:27.552-05:00Christmas Presents and SandMy little man was upset today because his dad made him eat broccoli. He was practically devastated his father would make him do something so horrid. I began explaining that it was not corporal punishment, especially because I happen to love broccoli and if someone forced me to eat it, I would happily oblige.<br />
<br />
That was when Christmas present ideas began flowing. <br />
<br />
"Ms. L, I'm going to buy you broccoli for Christmas because you love it so much. I have $15, how much broccoli can I buy you?"<br />
<br />
Um.. that's a whole lotta broccoli, my friend.<br />
<br />
"Or, I could buy you a DS game that has puppies instead of shooting. I know you don't like shooting. But you love Zoey, so a puppy game would be cool." <br />
<br />
Yeah, well.. I don't have a DS.<br />
<br />
"I'll buy you a DS and a puppy game."<br />
<br />
And later on? In the middle of math, "I can't skip count by tens when I have sand in my ears! It's impossible!"<br />
<br />
Yes, skip counting and other great mathematical endeavors are impossible when sand invades your ears, rendering you unable to complete math tasks. <br />
<br />
I LOVE my job.Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-61054321381662784922011-12-04T18:09:00.000-05:002011-12-04T18:09:14.665-05:00InspirationOr, the story of how a 10 year old has forever changed my outlook on life. <br />
I'm not sure if I've told you all this, but I'm a coach for Girls on the Run (GOTR). GOTR is a program that encourages young ladies in grades 3-5 to believe in themselves, through running. We spend 12 weeks learning about ourselves, others, and our community, while training for a 5K. Each of the girls participates in the 5K with a running buddy- an adult who completes the 3.1 miles by their side. <br />
<br />
Enter "Jill". Jill is a 5th grader who is very overweight. She signed up because "why not?" (her words, not mine). Her family encouraged her, but doubted her ability to actually run the 5K. And I'll be honest, I did, too. In practice, she worked to the best of her ability, but never could run a whole lot. She encouraged her teammates, but always doubted herself. If one of the other girls spoke poorly about themselves, she was the first to give that girl a compliment. She believed in everyone but herself. <br />
<br />
Today? She completed a 5K. It wasn't pretty. There were tears. We walked, walked, and walked. It was blood, sweat, and tears for every inch of those 3.1 miles. At mile one, I was full of doubt. I couldn't see any other girls and I knew we were headed for dead last. At the first water station, we started to see the front of the pack. They were minutes away from finishing. We were MILES away from finishing. At mile 2, we didn't see anyone except race volunteers. At mile 2.5, one person asked us if we were the last ones out there. We were. But we weren't going to stop. At mile 3, she asked me what the point was in finishing because no one would be at the finish line, we were the last ones out there. She cried for a moment and asked to stop. She told me she couldn't do it. <br />
<br />
But SHE did it. SHE finished. <br />
<br />
SHE INSPIRES ME. <br />
<br />
I am forever changed by the courage it took for Jill to finish that 5K. She could have given up. But she didn't. <br />
<br />
She finished that race, and changed my life.Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-87698597000179477342011-11-30T10:26:00.001-05:002011-11-30T10:26:53.126-05:00Vom CityYa'll.. I almost vommed. Straight up vom in my mouth in front of my kids.<p>All because I fall for peer pressure every.single.time.<p>My assistant was all like, "Something smells funky. What could it be?"<br>And I'm all like, "Uh. I have no clue." She did some crazy recon<br>mission and looked all over to find the culprit of the smell.<p>She found it, all right and proceeded to make my intern smell it. Then<br>she asked me to smell it and I immediately said, "No way. I'm no<br>fool." They were egging me on even more and I fell for the peer<br>pressure.<p>I took a baby whiff. Just a small one. Tiny, even.<p>And BAM! It hit me like a ton of bricks and before I knew it, I was<br>gagging and vomming in my mouth.<p>In front of the kids.<p>I ran out of there so quickly, swallowed, and went back with a smile<br>on my face. Well, after I rinsed out my mouth of course.<p>Go ahead, sign me up for teacher of the year award. I got this.Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-14051166575900629602011-11-27T22:09:00.000-05:002011-11-27T22:08:48.585-05:00It's official...<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYP-wL7DEmURaa-JsGsfOhpod2vlGyx7E_x-E6OtJUmVIkjtS27kDPDxrrLUWcMkyFHVGlgk7OdU94gCYW5KCA4CpudQf4TBurd-B54XLga6lZxDypbXzhJ-ekb9hyw4LWK7dw4ZcIqXZE/s1600/photo-728590.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYP-wL7DEmURaa-JsGsfOhpod2vlGyx7E_x-E6OtJUmVIkjtS27kDPDxrrLUWcMkyFHVGlgk7OdU94gCYW5KCA4CpudQf4TBurd-B54XLga6lZxDypbXzhJ-ekb9hyw4LWK7dw4ZcIqXZE/s320/photo-728590.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679878332807141906" /></a></p>Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3790178307450069125.post-1665941177136737602011-11-21T15:25:00.001-05:002011-11-21T15:25:54.213-05:00Fudgesicle...Crap.<p>Oh no.<p>What have I done?!<p>I just signed up for the 2012 Sun Trust Rock 'n Roll half marathon in DC.<p>Crap.<p>Oh no.<p>I think I might have lost my mind.Kids, Canines, and Chaoshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08707215969352929758noreply@blogger.com0