Giving this Christmas

This year I was warmed when I looked at the pile of our wrapped gifts compared to the donations we will be making to the Ronald McDonald House this week (items were originally going to be donated on Friday, but Zoe was ill).  The wrapped gifts were half as large as the items for donation.  I'm not trying to take the "I'm so awesome because I am teaching my children the true meaning of Christmas" road.  But I am proud that they are cherishing the few physical gifts they have received.

What about Santa?
I love the myth/historical Santa.  He is an annual visitor at our house.  He brings the Ladybugs a few fun stocking stuffers and one large item.  This year he brought a bike for Zoe (she has been using hand-me-downs since she was little) and a "big girl" flashing light scooter for Evie.  The gifts he brings are unwrapped, and were not part of the pile comparison from above.  Jim and I usually get one or two things for the girls that we wrap.  This year they got skateboards - Jim's idea.  Santa also brought the family a gift this year - a Blueray player.  Woot!  No more having to use the Xbox for DVDs!

No, there were not towering piles of wrapped surprises (like many of my Facebook friends posted this morning).  No, there were not tons of wrappings left all over the floor (a la Christmas Story).  But neither Ladybug seemed to mind.  They are thrilled.  And not overwhelmed.

What About Family Members?
I was very specific this year when I told family members gift ideas.  My grandma seemed upset at first when I told her little dollar store items were perfect (the Ladybugs call them GG gifts).  I assured her that if she wanted to also give money, that was okay.  Giving the children money allows us to purchase clothing, or other necessities.  We can even take them to museums and other venues over the two-week break that will build memories.  In my humble opinion, I don't remember a lot of things I got as a kid but I do remember special trips and times spent with family and friends.

Yesterday, the Ladybugs both received presents from my parents: Zoe got a very nice telescope (my father is over right now assembling it) and Evie got a "twin" American Girl doll.  Both girls got a couple books, and activity tables for the car from my sister.  And when Evie opened the money she cheered!  I had to laugh.  The Ladybugs thought they were rich!

Riches in Presence Rather Than Presents
And I believe this is the richest Christmas ever.  Both children have said the same thing: THIS IS THE BEST CHRISTMAS EVER!

Our Christmas program at school had a song called, "The Gift".  There is a line in it that states, "It's not about what we can give, it's what God gave to us."  And I believe this to be true.  It is not about piles of gifts or how much you spend (or save on special sales), even though the commercials illustrate a completely different theme.  To bring home a point - look at how Jesus (the Christ in Christmas) spent the first Christmas.  The stable, the hay, the simple birth.

I am thrilled to spend time together; visiting with family yesterday, visiting with more family today (the Martin side) and then spending time with my very best friend, Dana, and her son, Orson, on Wednesday.  The memories and the presence is all the presents I need.

Merry CHRISTmas Everyone!

Seeing a Change

Since I have not blogged in awhile, I thought it best to catch everyone up with what has been going on with Sock Monkey Mama.

Family Moments:
Back at the end of October I wrote a blog about our eldest ladybug, Zoe: Accepting Help.

Zoe has attended six therapy sessions now, with her seventh scheduled for Wednesday.  Even though Jim and I have not received any feedback from the therapist, we have seen a definite difference in Zoe.  She no longer freaks out before school, nor does she freak out before baton lessons.  We have also noticed a change in her angry behavior, and have only administered one time out in the last six weeks.  I know, right!

Zoe is a very dynamic child with a beautiful and kind heart.  She also has an amazing voice, which always makes me proud to hear.  Therapy has definitely allowed Jim and I to enjoy Zoe daily, and between helping us make dinner or work on reading with her sister we have a much less anxiety ridden child.

Career Moments:
This has definitely been a school year of challenges and balance acts on my part.  I have had my heart broken, and I have shed more than a tear or one million.

When I last spoke of my jobs, I was very careful to describe two problem situations: Where Oh Where Have I Been?

Since blogging I have severed the teaching relationship with the delinquent student, and the angry mom pulled her three children from our school.  Did the mom pull her children because of the Christmas Show?  Maybe, but I really don't care if that is the reason.  She had been bullying other teachers at the school, and her unhappiness is definitely not missed.  So I have been pretty drama free when it comes to teaching situations.  I still have one family that causes stress each week at private piano lessons.  However, they canceled lessons yesterday and will be on vacation for another 3 weeks.  I am definitely thrilled by this.

Tomorrow marks my first Christmas Program at the school.  I am nervous, but excited to show the families how these children are very capable.

Religious Moments:
Jim and I are officially completed with our commitments at our church after this Thursday.  Jim will be working the Christmas Tree lot once again on Thursday, but he is happy to finish his commitments.  I have spent so much time and energy on this church, I am remorseful.  However, I truly believe I can no longer continue with being taken for granted and not respected.

I believe I have already informed my readers that I took the pop tabs over to the Ronald McDonald House a few weeks ago.  When I was there I realized a need for other items, especially toiletries and "to-go" food items.  So I have been collecting items and will return this Friday to do another drop off.  I love the feeling of helping others, and if a small $1 bottle of shampoo does that then I am happy to provide.

I believe will be start attending different churches come the new year, so I will definitely keep you informed

Christmas Preparation:
The Ladybugs have been learning about the true meaning of Christmas this year, even though Jim and I have never participated in the obnoxious amount of commercial propaganda.  When I look at our thoughtful gifts this year, I smile.  Less to wrap, and ultimately less waste.

Zoe asked Santa for a new bike (she has only had hand-me-downs) and Evie asked Santa for a scooter.  Neither girl wanted to see Father Christmas this year (they call him Father Christmas because Auntie Dana uses that term), but they were very efficient in writing a letter to send.  Jim and I decided to buy each girl a skateboard and we will also give them a few little things in their stockings.  My folks are getting the girls each one other item from the list, and Jim's parents are getting a couple other items.  And that is it.  No sense in giving the ladybugs things they do not need for or want.

I hope everyone is doing well, and I will be writing more before the Holiest of Nights.

You Ironic Little Elf

We are a home with magic - fairies, sprites and the like visit us regularly*.  So why do I have such an issue with The Elf on The Shelf?

Believe me, it is not the story behind the elf stories, which is very inspiring (check out the short film on the website). First of all the elf himself or herself (yes, add earrings and you have a girl) seem to be looking eerily at one, which is probably why I do not like to sleep with dolls looking in the room.  Secondly, the elf is supposed to report mischievous and bad behavior to Santa, but the ironic part is that he creates havoc himself overnight.

I realize that the elf was not originally created for the purpose of encouraging overachieving mothers and fathers to create dastardly and insidious scenarios.  The writers of the story are incredible women and the company behind the products is truly magical.  However, on a given day during the Christmas holiday at least three or more friends post pictures of what their elf was doing the night before.

I have read a couple blogs that write humor based articles describing the odd behavior of parents who go to great lengths to outdo the antics of the night before, or to ultimately outdo (or recreate) a pin on Pinterest.  And in all seriousness, if you want to go to great lengths to entertain your children (and yourself) I commend you, because like I said before we have many little visitors who stop by our home throughout the year.*

What I am suggesting is that I am confused to why a child would be "good" for an elf who is clearly NOT setting a good example.  And in most cases the elf gets exceedingly worse as the holiday season proceeds.  So what exactly is this suggesting?  Santa wants you to be good in order to get gifts, but his elf can be a real jerk and mess up your house and that's okay?

*Fairies, Sprites and the Like
We have a variety of little visitors at our house, and I thought you might want to know who.

Garden Fairies 
Rosemary, Lavender and Thyme visit through our fairy door throughout the year.  They exchange letters with the ladybugs and the ladybugs in leave letters, gifts (Evie loves making little dresses for them) and drawings at their door.  Most of the time the fairies remind them to behave and to be kind.

Sugar Sprite Fairy
The Sugar Sprite Fairy comes on Halloween night and replaces candy with small toys.  This year the girls each received a Littlest Pet Shop toy.  My girls are allowed to keep 20 pieces of candy and the rest is given to the Sugar Sprite Fairy to make her sugar palace.  Interesting fact - the ladybugs still have half their candy stash from Halloween.

Tooth Fairy
Ah, the good 'ol Tooth Fairy!  She comes and retrieves teeth that have fallen out.  She never gives more than $1.  NEVER!  And she occasionally writes a little letter thanking the child for the tooth.  She uses the teeth for her palace.  Gross if you think about it, but structurally teeth would be very strong.  The girls and I wash their teeth before putting them in their special fairy bag (little doll with a bag specifically for the tooth), because we don't want the Tooth Fairy to have a house full of spit and blood.

Toy Fairies
In a brief moment of genius, I created the Toy Fairies.  The ladybugs were becoming so difficult when it was time to clean up their toys.  Jim and I had tried everything.  Everything.  And then, one night, I told them about the Toy Fairies.  The Toy Fairies fly around each night after children go to bed looking for toys that are not properly put away.  They take the toy or toys to give to another child (one with less money) who will take better care of the toy.  Yes, the Toy Fairies have taken toys.  However, after receiving an apology letter, the toys were returned.  Very rarely do we have problems with toys anymore.

The house motto is: If you Believe You Will Receive.  This way if children at school do not believe in Santa (or the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy, etc) and share their knowledge with my ladybugs, I know that they have a foundation to respond accordingly.  How long will their belief in magic last?  I hope forever.

I do believe to each his/her own, but I find the elf craze to be just that - a thing people think they need to do to have their children experience this "tradition".  My grandparents had an elf JUST LIKE the one that is mass produced today.  When I went to visit, my Grandma would always have to remove the elf from her shelf (top of the curio cabinet) or turn him away from me.  I guess I never liked those elves.

Just don't tell the fairies I said that.

Where Oh Where Have I Been?

The addition of my third job this fall (private teacher and mom are the other two) was supposed to be a way for me to fulfill a calling that I felt on my heart.  Teaching 8 hours a week was going to afford my girls to continue to have the education that we have come to love.  However, I pretty much spend close to 15 - 20 hours involved in the job.  This is added to the 13 private teaching hours (which is approximately 20 hours with prep time).  I'm a full time teacher, and it is wonderful, until I have to deal with individual students and their parents.

I have definitely been humbled as a teacher this fall, and my heart has been touched in so many ways.  I know I'm making a difference in the lives of students at the school.  And yet, there is always one person (or two) who really make make head spin.  Two situations came up in the last 2 weeks and both have damped my spirits.

The first was a private student who was a no call no show twice in two months.  Per the contract I have each family sign, I had to end the relationship with the student.  I was told she would be apologizing to me at her last lesson, but that never happened.  Regardless, I was paid the late tuition, and I was sad to have to end the teaching relationship.  However, being tough in business is essential in my line of work.

The other person struck last week, and she took me completely by surprise.

I have been debating as to how to share the second situation and still keep it private.  I have made the decision to not share the exact details, however, I will share the sadness I felt over the behavior of the parent.

My faith was questioned, my professional and personal time were wasted in needless emails, and my classroom was interrupted on more than one occasion by her children who were very upset at the ultimate decision.

Let me be clear: we all have convictions, and religious ones are very strong.  If I didn't agree with how my children were being taught and I was unhappy with the programs being offered at our school, I would simply look for something better suited to my family's needs and wants.  The school where my girls attend, and where I teach, is one that is going through a huge reorganization of priorities and mission.  I love what the school stands for, and I think the education is top notch.  However, a few families left in the summer to have their children attend a school that better fit their needs and wants, and I am confused why this parent did not do the same.

People like this parent are everywhere.  They are negative and they feed off of poking and prodding others.  Most often people like this are selfish and are oblivious to how their convictions affect their children.  Time for a quote:

I must say my impromptu pedicure on Friday definitely put me in a better place mentally, emotionally and spiritually. I am proud of what I am teaching these students and I know that each one will take something positive away from my classes - even if it is that Dubstep started out as Krautrock.

So tomorrow begins another week and my classes will be constructing instruments and enjoying the creativity of music.  I have a pile of boxes, tubes, glue, and tissue paper just waiting for little hands to create.  And the truth is, I cannot wait to see what happens.

Technology, Technology, Why Have You Thou Forsaken Me!?

This week has been one of frustration on a technology level.  Maybe it is because I have been fighting a yucky head cold, or maybe it is karma, or maybe it is just my crummy luck.  But whatever the case might be, it has been a really disturbing week in retrospect.  Why?  Because I was shown just how important technology is to my life; and how difficult it is to function without it.

No Cell Phone
Monday was a challenging day.  It began with waking up to a sore throat.  I didn't feel like getting up, but I had no other choice.  Then Evie lost her tooth.  Well, more accurately, I pulled out a loose tooth from Evie's mouth.  Therefore, there was an ample amount of blood.  Evie also shed more tears than I expected.  She is dramatic, you know.  Then, I made sure Zoe had her morning supplements and went downstairs to feed the animals.  Zoe followed along because she wanted to feed the fish.  However, when she opened the top of a new fish food it fell all over the couch and the basement floor.  She began to cry.  She felt terrible that she made such a big mess.  I took a few minutes to calm her down and reassure her it was an accident, then I tackled the mess.  For most households this mess would not be a big deal, but I had to clean up the fish flakes because our cat, Milo, would spend the rest of the day licking up whatever he could.  In fact, I am certain that if given the opportunity Milo would eat himself to death.

I had just enough time to grab a banana, and out the door Zoe and I went to her orthodontist appointment.  Zoe is in the preparatory stages to get an expander.  Currently tiny blue rubber bands get shoved between her back teeth "spreading" the teeth to allow her molars to come in successfully.  Anyway, we were late to the appointment, but Zoe made it to school without missing anything.

The day continued on like this, and my body became sicker and sicker.  After dinner, Jim took Zoe to her first therapy appointment (which by the way went amazingly well), and I cleaned up the house, bathed Evie, fed the animals, washed dishes, and well, you get the picture.  I plugged my phone in, and as I was about to set it down in the holder, it slipped from my hands.  Yes, I have a case.  Yes, it was not that far from the ground.  But the screen cracked, and well, it was toast.

I called the insurance company for the phone, and they sent me another phone out the following day: Tuesday.

So all of Tuesday I did not have a working phone, and honestly it felt so weird.  I would awkwardly look at the screen, as if thinking something miraculous had changed.  I don't own a watch, so I felt completely isolated in knowing what time it was.  I also freaked out when I had to run a few errands with Evie.  What if I get stranded?  What if my car breaks down?  What if Zoe is sick and the school tries to call me and I am unreachable?!  ARGH!

A new phone came on Tuesday, as expected.  However, it was broken and would not keep a charge.  So on Wednesday (a half day for the ladybugs and me) I spent time making phone calls 1) to get a different phone sent to me, 2) another to deal with a bill that was not paid, and 3) yet another because our cable company had two different amounts owed on our bill appearing online.  Two hours later I began to realize how dependent I am on technology.  But the worst was yet to come.

No Computer Too
Yesterday I did not have a phone (I was waiting for the 2nd "new" phone to arrive) and I did not have a computer.  Why?  Because I stupidly opened an email from my father and clicked on the link he said I would enjoy reading.  Why is this so bad?  Because that stupid link was a way to infect my lovely laptop - my only means of connecting with the outside world.  I had to shut the computer down.  This meant I was without everything.  No texting.  No Facebook.  No reading Blogs!  I felt even more isolated that before.  Why is that?

Fortunately after Jim ran the important programs to catch the issues (I am very lucky he is a tech guy), the laptop was clean and ready to use again.  I also talked to my father who only found one file affected by the email.  So in this case, we were both very lucky.

But the reality is: it was not that long ago that I didn't have a smart phone.  In fact, it has only been that last 4 years that I have had a phone with the ability to read emails and text others.  For years I drove to stores without a phone.  For years I was unavailable when people tried to reach me.  FOR YEARS!  And really, is it that imperative to know what my friends are doing during the day?  Really?  But I could not help wondering what my friends were thankful for (30 Days of Thankfulness), or how their days were shaping up.  And I realized that I am WAY too dependent on technology.  If the Zombie Apocalypse happens and we lose all forms of electricity, I will be forced to wonder who has been bit, who has already turned and what others are doing to survive.

In Conclusion
I do feel that I have a balance of technology in my life.  I do not bring my smart phone everywhere I go, and I have been known to go hours without responding to a text from a friend.  But I still place a high importance on its value.  I do value knowing how my friends are doing.  I do value having the security that if something happened to my children at school I am always reachable.  And I do value being able to send cute messages and emoticons to my husband throughout the work day.

But not having a phone nor computer really made me rethink where we are as a society and where we are going.  I thought it was quite apropos for The New Normal (my new favorite sitcom this season - quite possibly because they made reference to Grey Gardens in the second episode) to air an episode on Tuesday about our societies obsession regarding technology, especially with social networking.  I think many people need to take a step back and determine how important their phones/computer/pads/etc are to them.

I know that my ladybugs will never know what it is like to dial a rotary phone, or have the phone ring more than 10 times before a voicemail picks up, or use a card catalog to look up information.  But I do hope my girls understand the value of technology and not let it lead their lives.

Compartmentalizing My Brain

I came into work early this morning, with the intent of getting more accomplished than I managed to do over the weekend.  I sincerely found myself avoiding doing work for school this weekend, and I imagine you will laugh when I tell you what I did instead.

Avoidance on an Epic Level
On Saturdays I teach pretty much the entire time the sun is up; well at least at this time of year.  So when I finished at 4:35pm I was unable to even put together a sentence.  This happens when my brain has been "on" for 8 hours.  A little Sims on the XBox while the girls were playing outside and Jim was making dinner?  SURE!  Then Uncle Joe came over, and well who can do work when Uncle Joe is over?  Not me!

Yesterday morning I got up early (7:30 is early for a Sunday), and made cherry scones with Zoe.  I am consciously trying to do things that are just Mommy & Zoe time.  Evie has my undivided attention on Tuesdays and Thursdays because she does not have school.  Zoe has not had Mommy alone time in a LONG LONG time.  So make a cognizant effort is definitely the most important.

Evie joined her Daddy for a date at the grocery store, so Zoe and I had more time together.  She also was able to pull her own loose tooth out, which was bitter sweet for my Mommy heart.

Then we met the inlaws for lunch a Panera.  Can't do work while you are at lunch, right?  But then I had this brilliant idea: ORGANIZE THE LADYBUG'S TOY CLOSET!  Yup!  Why not?  So off to Target we went and I purchased a shelf and an under-the-bed storage box.  I also picked up a shoe organizer for our closet.  Why not?  Just one more activity to NOT work.

So I cleaned, built, purged, and organized the heck out of the toy closet.  It was in such need of this, but I really didn't HAVE to do it yesterday.  Of course at the time I was so motivated to NOT work, that the closet seemed to be the most important thing on my agenda.

By the time I completed all the activities I created for myself, I was pooped.  So what better way to regain energy?  Coffee and a rereading of Life of Pi.  I loved Life of Pi when I initially read it years ago.  The movie is coming out soon, so I thought a rereading would be beneficial.  After my regaining of energy time out, I had a yummy quiche and time with the family.  But why let it end there?  So the evening was spent enjoying my family, and once again avoiding the inevitable: doing work for school.

Now Where Does That Leave Me?
So now I am at school and I was mostly successful in getting my needed work done.  I turned in my grades, I made copies of the brass family handouts, I planned for the week ahead, and now I'm taking a blog break.

But I'm wondering how often I create projects to avoid the real problem.  I acknowledged this avoidance yesterday, but how often do I subconsciously create a project to avoid what really needs to be done?  And my brain likes order, so maybe I organize and create order to avoid the mess of life.  I am meditating on the possibility of this brain conversation:

Problem: Too many dishes to wash?
Solution: Why not catalog all the music into binders and dividers?

Problem: Too big to fit into your favorite pants?
Solution: Why not clean and organize the pantry?

Problem: Too many clothes to wash and fold and put away?
Solution: Why not paint the door to the music studio?

Maybe, just maybe, our brain creates opportunities to feel safe and secure ultimately creating a much less stressful environment.  Or maybe this is just my coping mechanism.  We ALL have them.  Some use drugs, some alcohol, some avoid life all together.  So what if my coping skill is organization?  Right?  At least my house looks good.

Finding My Religion - Post Mortem

or What Was I Waiting For, A Slap in the Face?

Three weeks ago, I had probably the worst migraine headache in years.  I was very nauseous, and I did something I have only done a few times in the last 20 years: closed my music studio.  However, in the midst of everything I also sent a letter to our church's moderator regarding my complete disappointment in our church.  I would have posted the letter here (in fact it was online for maybe 2 hours), but Jim wasn't keen on the intimate sharing of the document.  However, in all honesty, my readers could probably construct a letter with blog entries.  If you are new to this blog, here is the link to earlier entries: Finding My Religion

The initial response made my letter seem like an annoyance.  I was told that I should have gone to the church counsel meeting and voiced my concern.  I just shook my head in disbelief.  I responded that with three job schedules and two children and their schedules, coming to church meetings is not always possible.  Plus I was very uncomfortable getting up and reading my letter in front of everyone.

Then nothing.  Of course that is until yesterday.

One Last Mission
In order to feel completed, I decided to champion a mini mission to be completed before Christmas.  The church has been collecting pop-tops for the Ronald McDonald House for many years.  A few years ago, the Sunday School took the collected tops to the Detroit RMH.  It was a great field trip, but nothing has happened since.  So I decided to organize an effort to help support the Ann Arbor facility.  I did research and wrote an article for the messenger and weekly bulletin.  I sent the article and got confirmation from the pastor (who I had copied on the email).  Yesterday I got the messenger, and was my write up in it?  Nope.  A small statement that I was doing the mission, but nothing about what the collection actually accomplishes for the Ronald McDonald House charity.  The bulletin blurb has also not happened.

I realize that the secretary and/or pastor (who manages the messenger) are not the same people who made the decision to use the Sunday School room and Nursery for the Rummage Sale.  They are not the same people who are not interested in doing more mission work.  However, I felt the slap on my face pretty loud and clear.  And I must admit I cried.

I sent an immediate email to the secretary and copied the moderator (who pretty much wrote my earlier letter off), the pastor, and Jim.  I simply stated that the article I wrote did not appear, and why was that.  This morning I got a very emotional response from the secretary, which basically said that she has been preoccupied this month and that I could come into her office and yell at her if I wish.  It also appeared that the original email I sent with the article was far from her memory.  So I sent an email with the original article email attached.  Here is what I wrote:

Here is the "blurb" I wished to have in the messenger as well as a condensed version for the bulletin. I thoroughly understand being preoccupied with life, however, I gave this to you in plenty of time to fit it into the messenger.

I am not going to come into the office and yell at you, that is not in my nature (nor is it productive). However, I am very disheartened that the time I took to write the above was not appropriately given space in the messenger. I wanted people in the church to understand the mission, not just read that someone is finally doing something with the pop tabs.

The blurb that did appear was on the Minister's Pen page, not really an appropriate placement for a mission. However, I noticed a very nice write up for Joseph in there as well as almost an entire page for Pat's humor column.

I actually just found out this week that there is a competition between the Ann Arbor Ronald McDonald House and the Toledo one. The pop tabs need to be delivered before Thanksgiving. I will see to it that our donation is part of the competition.

Thank you.

Then I get a response from the moderator suggesting I select 5 or 6 church members for a meeting regarding my letter to him from three weeks ago.  So now I pray...

Teaching the Whole Child

or Stop Timing Me on Your Cell Phone

Last Saturday, after teaching most of the day, I had a parent show me her cell phone.  I was taking her daughters into the studio to have their piano lessons and she showed me that I was 3 minutes late.  Three whole minutes.  She stood there, with cell phone in hand, and began complaining that I never start lessons on time.  She loudly complained that I am always talking to the previous student's mother about her daughter's progress.  This ultimately takes time away from HER paid lessons.  I tried to explain that I am always a few minutes behind, due to the fact I think it is important to speak with the parents before and after a lesson.  However, she simply stated that I NEVER talk with her after the lesson; she times all this on her cell phone, and that it isn't fair.  She pays for time that I never use.  She also suggested I leave 10 minutes between lessons to take care of talking to parents.

After her rant, I politely informed said mother that I am not going to change my schedule to accommodate more time between lessons.  That I teach 8 hours on Saturdays without a break, and that sometimes I do need to take a few moments to use the restroom, get a drink, AND especially speak with a student's parents.  I assured her that I am not (in any way) neglecting her children and their music education, but that I feel it is essential to teach the whole child.  Therefore, I need to know "what is new" with them.  I do this by developing a relationship with the student's family.  I send emails AND I talk to them.

She finally left the room, and her oldest had her head in her hands and was clearly embarrassed by her mother's feelings.  I just started the lesson, and did not let it influence how I taught the girls.  When the lessons were complete, their mother gave me a piece of paper with her friend's name and number on it.  Apparently this friend only wants me to teach her child.  After her earlier rant, I just took a deep cleansing breath and smiled.  I also made certain to tell her that I do not have anything open at this time.  Nothing.

Why Time Me?
Afterwards I was extremely confused.  I have been teaching lessons for a very long time now, and I have NEVER, NEVER been timed before.  I know what I am doing, and I know I am very good at it.  Through the years I have let students go, as we just didn't gel.  And honestly her children are sweet, but I do feel as if her expectations are not going to be met by me and my teaching style.  English is also her second language, but she pointed out that TIME was the same in any language.

When I rearranged my teaching schedule earlier this fall, I gave her one option to have lessons on Saturdays.  I was pretty certain they would move on to another teacher, but they did not.  It was their opportunity to find someone who better fit their need for lessons without relationships.  They made the switch from Friday afternoons to Saturday afternoons.  The truth is, when they came on Friday afternoons they were my first students and I always started "on time".  However, coming in the afternoon on Saturday means I have been teaching for 4 hours at that point and couldn't possibly be "on time".

My Beef
As a parent, I have never timed lessons for the children.  I make sure to get to the place on time, but most often there is a transition time (a few minutes) between classes (or students).  Even when we decided to change dance studios it wasn't a case of amount of time but the quality of teaching.

I am very surprised at how some people are worried about the cost of lessons based on time.  Are her children learning? Yes.  Are they growing in their skills?  Yes.  And the reason?  Both want to impress me.  They look forward to the high-fives I give when they get something right.  They love the stickers I sometimes bring out for rewards.  They enjoy the laughter when we are talking about music theory concepts.  And in my opinion, I think some things are simply priceless.  The smiles of these children when I'm giving them high-fives is just one of those priceless moments.

I have seen students grow in my care, and to me it has nothing to do with time (or spending 3 minutes of the lesson speaking to their parent).  In fact, I think an essential component of the growth is due to my interest in the whole child - not just if they are practicing.

Most teachers will tell you that the lesson (or school day) does not end when the student (classroom) leave.  I am always looking for new music for my students, or better and creative teaching methods as well.  I have a business to run, yes, but I am also teaching because I am invested in each and every one of those children.  Many people get overtime (or compensation) for overtime invested in a job - not a teacher.  And especially not a teacher who teachers from her own home.

So for those of you out there who concern yourself with timing your child's lesson - shame on you!  Shame on you for not realizing the true teaching that is going on here.  The concern for your WHOLE child, not just the skills being taught.

Accepting Help

From the Beginning 
My daughter, Zoe, has always shown some form of anxiety.  Even early on, one could view her issues through her troubles with sleep and separation.  First, there was the breast feeding until sleep.  This pretty much began co-sleeping, due to Zoe's need to be next to me all the time.  Then, I vividly remember the long car rides on the freeway which ultimately lulled Zoe to sleep.  I could no longer breast feed her, because I was pregnant with Eva and nursing was extremely painful.  After months of driving her to sleep, we made Zoe's room into a big girl room.  But prior to just laying next to her, Jim would walk her, and all the while she cried not wanting to go to sleep.  Then there were the bargaining nights: "If you go to sleep real quick you'll get a surprise in the morning!"

I tried to implore different solutions from books: The No-Cry Sleep Solution, Baby Wearing, etc.  However, one thing we always adhered to was a bedtime routine.  Our girls were always ready for bed by 8pm for stories and songs (me singing).  It was after lights were out that Zoe struggled with finishing the process alone.  

Zoe also had a very difficult time staying with a babysitter.  And going to Preschool was quite challenging.  However, we told ourselves "this too shall pass" and it did.  Each year brought different/new stress-filled Zoeisms.  A couple years ago she would say, "[fill in the blank] touched [fill in the blank]."  And would want a response that would put her mind at ease.  I blamed myself for always making sure her hands were clean, so she didn't get sick.  I supposed once you have witnessed your child turning blue because she cannot breathe (when Zoe was 2 1/2 she suffered her first asthma attack), you will do whatever you can to stop it from occurring again.

After awhile, her catch phrase was, "Something touched something." To which we were to respond, "You are fine, Zoe."  Last year Zoe would blow on herself when she was nervous.  She was really good at hiding it, but I always knew when she was nervous.  However, this school year she seems to be at an all time anxiety high.

Asking For Help
For the longest time I associated asking for help with weakness.  I have spent the last couple of months trying different methods with Zoe.  We have established that Melatonin before bed works wonders with her sleep anxiety.  We have also added Natural Calm with breakfast.  I always told myself that until her anxiety affected her school I would let things run its course.  Zoe is still an A student, but she no longer approaches "fun" activities with gusto.  After 4 years of ballet, she just didn't find the class to be worth the stomach ache before.  I had told her that until I paid the deposit for the spring recital costume, she was able to determine whether or not to continue.

However, she did decide to stay in baton (which is a new class for both her and Evie this fall).  She told me the stomach ache is worth it in the end.  This is hopeful as her mother.  I also will never force my children to participate in activities that they don't enjoy.  After all, school is essential (whether they like it or not) and the girls must go to school.  Therefore, they should get a choice for the fun classes.  Zoe has also returned to piano this summer.  She is much easier to teach than she was a couple years ago.  So I am teaching her myself rather than finding another qualified teacher.

After much thought, I really think Zoe would benefit with speaking to someone who could assist in getting appropriate coping mechanisms.  I prayed and meditated and made my decision to call a Dr. to whom our dear friend, Jill, recommended.  Jill, is a doctor of psychology herself, and works once a week at Dr. Laura Hutchison's office.  This is a huge step for me, reader.  I suppose logically I know that I didn't MAKE Zoe anxious, but because I suffer from anxiety I blame my genes for making her anxious.  I know, I know, ridiculous.  But it is the reality of life.  Wish me luck on this journey to help my beautiful, Zoe.

A Final Thought
I realize that when I write blogs that are personal, I am inviting comments especially negative ones.  I'm sure some will judge how I handled Zoe as a toddler, and some will assume I am a bad mother for letting my child "quit" an activity.  And I suppose at this point I really don't care.  Writing this is confirmation of my struggles and trials as a mother, and maybe, just maybe, it will touch another mom's life and give her permission to feel normal.

I Believe in A Higher Power

or Why Do People Assume I'm a Christian?

A few weeks ago, I was asked to write a musing about perception of faith.  I have been contemplating how I would even begin such a challenge, but I definitely was excited to take the challenge.

Rooted in Youth
I always believed most children grow up and become an adaptation of what their parents are/were.  So basically if a child is raised Christian, he will grow up to become a Christian.  Said child could change denominations (i.e. Baptist to Methodist or Catholic to Lutheran), but essentially the child will continue in the traditions set by parents.

However, as I have spoken to many adults I have realized that even though many continue in the faith of their fathers, others journey elsewhere looking for something different.  And even though many claim to have no faith, or practice religion, many believe in a higher power: God.

Then Why the Assumption?
Most people perceive others as believing what they do.  I know I personally assume those around me look at the world the same way I do, or at least those to whom I surround myself.  Of course it is always very eye opening when reading a status message on Facebook how little I am often correct with those assumptions.  And it is not always such a simple line that delineates what I believe and that others are in opposition.

I also believe people inherently want to be accepted and want others to agree with their beliefs and essentially who they are inside.  As a mother I continuously go through doubt when it comes to my children.  I think as a Mom it is hard to always remain confident to the choices you make.

I remember when I was pregnant with Zoe.  Everything was so new.  I had experienced a miscarriage only a few months earlier, and yet now I was in the thick of deciding what I needed/wanted for my baby.  Would I be breast or bottle feeding?  Would I use cloth or disposable diapers?  Would I use a crib or co-sleep?  And the opinions were everywhere I went.  Every mom felt it her duty to tell me what was the correct way.  I had so much information thrown at me I became very overwhelmed.

I clearly recall this one afternoon when I was about 8 months pregnant with Zoe.  Our friend, Dave, was over helping Jim create a bathroom in the basement for my music studio.  I had just got off the phone with my sister after a conversation regarding cloth diapers.  She used them for my niece and was encouraging me to purchase a very large amount from a friend of hers who was selling them.  I felt so pressured at the time.  I didn't know what I wanted to do.  I went into the basement and began crying.  My friend, Dave, said something along the lines of, "What do you care?  Just do what works for you."  This was coming from an experienced father and a very intelligent man.  I remember completely changing the way I thought about motherhood at that point and started to enjoy it.

Bullying Into Belief
I still cannot believe the amount of pressures a parent has in this society.  Our choice to send our ladybugs to a private Christian school got looks from many others (including members of our family).  I think it had a lot to do with the fact I have always believed in faith with an open mind.  I am not what many would consider a traditional Christian woman - at least in the Titus 2 viewpoint.  But my conviction in the teachings of Jesus push me forward into a belief of loving all others.

I was bullied as a child and teen, but I believe some of the worst bullying comes as a parent.  I feel many Christians are lumped into an Evangelical-based bias, and not truly embracing the love and acceptance to which Jesus lived his life.  I do not worry what others think as much anymore, but I cannot completely admit I don't care at all.  I do.

The thing I loath the most about being a Christian is how unChristlike many self-proclaimed Christians act.  If we are all created by God, we are all His children.  And here is the kicker: EVEN THE ONES WHO ARE NOT CHRISTIAN!

Perception Once Again Is The Answer
It seems like such a cop-out, but the truth is our perception fogs how we treat others.  We assume other believe what we believe.  Therefore, if we are Christian and someone we meet is spiritual and believes in God we incorrectly assume they are a Christian as well.  Assumption is never the way one should deal with others, but unfortunately as humans we behave in many illogical ways.

Do where does this leave us?  Pretty much with a perfect opportunity to begin treating others without the blinders of perception and inherent beliefs.  Delighting in others love for each other, and not worrying or concerning oneself for what or whatnot that person believes.  Does it matter if you are a Christian and your friend is Islam?  Is it okay if you believe Jesus died for your sins, but your friend doesn't believe the Messiah has come?  Is it okay to find comfort in a church family, but have a friend who does not attend a place of worship?

I believe the answer is: YES.  Emphatically, yes!  Because we are love, we were creating in love, and the love we show and share with others ultimately defines us.  I sincerely hope that after reading this blog post some of my more narrow-minded readers might rethink how they treat others and how they perceive others to believe.

The Credit Card Fiasco

I originally blogged about this in Happy Mistakes, but so much has happened since it is comical.

Jim and I met at the credit union on Friday, September 28th, to sign paper work and whatnot.  Thankfully the member service representative confirmed with the loan specialist if anything was missing.  Jim officially became a member, and my desire to get an increase on our credit card went through.  We were told the card would come in about a week.

This new credit card would replace the old credit card.  Said card was in my name and only had Jim as a signer.  New card would have a higher limit (only by $500) and thus become a jointly owned card.  I was also informed that when the cards came I was to call the number on them and immediately the old card would be deactivated and the new card would have all previous transactions on it.  Seemed easy, right?

The cards came on Tuesday of this week, which was convenient because I needed to make a payment.  I opened the envelope, pulled out the paperwork, and called the number on the little sticker attached to the cards.  I then went online to make a payment to the account.  The old account was still there, but I thought maybe I had to add the new card number.  So I did.  And sure enough I saw the new limit, but there were no charges or transactions.  I then looked back at the other card number, and nothing had changed.  So essentially I had two lines of credit.

I phoned the credit union and had to tell my entire story to members service representative number 5.  As you remember it took 3 calls to get the woman who told us we needed to sign paperwork.  Number 4 was the woman at the credit union.  So this means I was on number 5.  Number 5 called the credit card department and finally came back to tell me that I had not activated the card.  I insisted I had, but hung up and called the activation number again.  As I suspected, the automated number informed me that the card had already been activated.  I know, right?

So I called the credit union again, and got the same representative.  I was relieved that I didn't need to tell my story AGAIN.  However, I was put on hold, for the nth time.  When the representative returned I was informed the credit department activated the card for me (I guess something was amiss), but it would take 24 hours to have the account information switch.  I started hysterically laughing.  Why?  Because honestly, at this point I had the money in our checking account to cover the overage which was the whole reason I asked for the increase in the first place.  I was initially worried that we would be charged a fee for the overage, but we were not.  I was simply trying to be proactive, and yet what a mess!

So yesterday after work (which was more than 24 hours later), I checked the website.  Nothing had changed.  Once again I called the credit union to speak to a representative.  Unfortunately the one I had worked with the day before was busy, so I had to explain my entire story to another representative: number 6.  Number 6 put me on hold, came back and asked for the numbers again, put me on hold, came back to ask for the spelling of my name on the original card, and put me on hold again for a long time.  When she returned I was told the original account was closed and that it would be another 24 hours before the other account showed the transfer of the balance.

Again I began laughing, after all it wasn't this person's fault.  I couldn't be angry, but another 24 hours?  Seriously!?  I think number 6 thought I was insane, for real.  And I did tell her that if in 24 hours things had not changed I would be canceling the account all together.  I do not have time like this to handle stupidity.

This morning the original account shows "canceled" on the website.  The new account shows a transfer of the balance.  And the cool part?  I don't owe a minimum payment!  Of course I still paid it, because after all this wasn't about avoiding payment but avoiding an additional payment.

On the plus side: Jim is now a full-fledged member of the credit union, AND the credit card associated with said institution 

What a crazy day.  What a crazy school year thus far.  But at least it gives entertaining blog posts.

Finding My Religion Update

It has been over a month since I last updated regarding my religious journey: Finding My Religion so I thought I'd give you a brief update.

These last few weeks have been so hectic with work and family matters that I have completely adored my Sundays off.  There is something so liberating with approaching Sunday morning with joy rather than anticipated anxiety.  I simply have no desire to return to that way of approaching church, so Jim and I have begun to look towards the future and where we might be happy and comfortable to worship.

The Straw That Broke the Camel's Back
I mentioned that the Rummage Sale at the church was a final straw in the frustration I was feeling towards our church.  However, the final straw was finding out the Board of Education hired a Sunday School teacher.  The problem?  I am a member of the board, the chairperson in fact.  At our last meeting in August, I told the Superintendent of Sunday School that I was not going to teach Sunday School this year.  The other board member (yes, there were only 2 of us) was leaving the church, so I suggested finding a young college student to teach the children each week.  Then my family decided to not attend church until after the disaster of the Rummage Sale, and next thing I know the "board" hired a new teacher.  A phone call to the other member (my dear friend, Rachel) confirmed that the teacher had been hired by the Superintendent and Minister, not the Board of Education.

I immediately contacted the Superintendent.  She had no idea she had done wrong.  This poor communication was the last straw for me.  It sealed my desire to move along to another church.  And that is just what we are going to do.

The Grass is Always Greener
I sincerely know that my desire to find something better might not be so simple.  Jim and I have become quite comfortable in our traditional yet forward-thinking church.  The United Church of Christ is one of inclusion, not at all like the institution of my past.  However, many traditional churches are going through pains of their own, and honestly I do not want to leave one problem to go to another.  Mostly it is a case of the older parishioners wanting things to stay the same.  We also want a parish that offers a variety of activities for our children.  The ladybugs are at the ages now that having "more" offerings is important to us.

Yes, they get a Christ-centered education at school, but having Sunday School or activities for group fun is missing at our current parish.  Okay, they have Sunday School with two other children.  Yes, folks, the Sunday School is now dwindled to a meager 4 children when our ladybugs attend.  But there is nothing during the week that other churches offer.  I am not saying that my children would want to join a children's choir, or bell choir, or youth group, or Bible study, but having it as an option would suggest the church is focused on children and therefore: families.

When Jim and were looking for a parish over 7 years ago, we only had an infant: Zoe.  There was a small Sunday School class at Dearborn Congregational and a very charismatic minister.  We loved the warm people, and there were a few families we enjoyed sharing fellowship.  However, those families no longer attend, and the mindset of most of the congregation is: STAY THE SAME SO WE HAVE MONEY IN THE BANK SO WE HAVE A CHURCH UNTIL WE DIE.  Did I mention the church has $250,000 in the bank to which they don't want to do anything with?  So sad to see a slow death...

Even if the Grass is a Bit Yellow
Seriously, we are ready to find another place to worship; even if that means not having everything we want.  What I am hoping for is for our girls to feel included and loved, and to find a place that focuses on families.  Where will this be?  Time will tell.  However, I am not sure I feel like jumping into becoming a member somewhere yet.  Maybe just enjoying being a parishioner for awhile.  Jim and I have agreed to continue our tenure on the boards in which we reside.  This means after December 31st we are done.

I suppose we all have breaking points, and no amount of prayer or meditation will change my mind about where I am at in this situation.

Random Question for Future Blog: Why if One Believes in God Do People Assume One is Christian?

Your opinions are greatly appreciated!

Little Girl Stories

Last night I did something I never thought I would do: I told my ladybugs about what really happened in Kindergarten and First grade.

I guess it all started back about a year ago, when Jim told a "little boy story" after shutting off the lights.  His stories were of backyard adventures, friends doing silly things, and tales of his move from a country life to a city life.  The ladybugs looked forward to these true stories from their father's youth, so much so that on my nights (Jim and I switch back and forth each night) they begged their Daddy to stay and tell another "little boy story".

Eventually I was asked to share a "little girl story" around Christmas.  I shared my favorite Christmas memories, but then grew silent with more ideas.  It was around that time that I began to craft THE SILVER FROG, and the ladybugs enjoyed the various renderings of the story each night I put them to bed.  However, that too became old.  Luckily I remembered stories from summer vacations: places we went,  "mushy gooshy" sand my sister, Kelly, and I made in the backyard, and how we tried to dig to China.  But I avoided all tales of school.

I suppose that I didn't want to tell the girls I hated going, or that I cried every day I went to Kindergarten, or that I learned how to throw up to avoid going to 1st grade.  I didn't want them to develop their own fears and worries based on my past.  But what I neglected to realize was that Eva and Zoe (especially Zoe) had their own fears and worries - completely on their own.

So last night, after Zoe claimed she didn't want to go to school today, I shared my fears from school.  I told the girls that I too did not want to go to school.  That every day I would worry about what we would be doing, if people would play with me and that I would miss my Mommy.  Every day I spent a ton of time worrying and not enjoying my time at school.  And yes, there are good memories of playing in the Kindergarten house, singing in music, and learning to read.  But those are heavily overshadowed by the memories of anxieties and fears.  I told the ladybugs that when I look back at that time, I realize I should have stopped worrying so much and spent more time making memories of joyful times.  Allow myself to have fun - rather then worrying the fun would eventually end.

And something wonderful happened: I felt a release.  It was okay to share the dark and murky parts of my past - because that is who I was (and sometimes who I still am).  I no longer have to avoid talking about a particular "story" because I am afraid I'll give the girls anxieties.  Hell, they already have them.  And who knows, maybe it is because they thought I loved school and never worried about anything.

Happy Mistakes

or how after 10 years I just found out Jim is not a member at our credit union

This has been an interesting week - financially speaking, that is.  Last Friday Jim and I went to a swanky hotel and stayed in a suite.  When we checked in, we gave the girl behind the counter a credit card.  She charged the room, but then tried to charge an additional $200 to the card for possible "other charges".  At 15 bucks a pop, that means we could have rented 12 pornos, or drank/eaten most of the contents of the minibar (I assume).  Of course I'm not entirely certain about the minibar, because Jim never could figure out how to get it open.  And, no, we didn't rent 12 pornos...we didn't rent any.

But I digress, the card was declined for the additional $200.  I was embarrassed and surprised all at the same time.  I mean, I'm so good with money and our family's finances...what did I miss?!

When we came home on Saturday I diligently found out that during the first three weeks of my new job, I missed some transactions in my budget spreadsheet.  I called the number on the back of the credit card, hoping to get a $5000 increase.  After getting hung up on a few times (something was amiss with their system), I finally got a very nice gentleman who informed me I had to call another number.  What was that number?  My credit union.  Ugh.

I spoke to a very nice girl at the credit union.  She put my information through to get a credit line increase and told me I'd hear back by Monday.  On Monday afternoon I called there, and I was told that because I do not have an income (a REAL job that is), I was declined.  I had told the nice girl I didn't have a real job, but that my husband (who is on the card and on the member account at the credit union) has a good job. This new girl (girl #2) told me that my husband was only a signer on the card, but that she could put his information through to get the credit check to work.  Jim was happy to give his information over to her, and once again we were told in a couple of days we would hear.

Wednesday I phoned the credit union back and talked with girl #3.  She told me that both girl #1 and girl #2 neglected to tell me that we would have to apply for a completely separate loan (credit card).  I told her, fine.  I also told her that I was frustrated at the process, because Jim and I have been married for 10 years and he was added to everything back then.  She was really nice.

Yesterday I get a call from girl #3.  She says, "Well, Michelle, I have good news and bad news."  The good news was that we were approved for the increase.  The bad news?  Well, the last 10 years Jim has not been a member at the credit union.  He has appeared on the checks, can sign stuff, can sign on MY credit card, but is not technically a member.  She also pointed out that if we had ended the marriage, I would have been responsible for the credit card AND the accounts associated with my member # at the credit union.

So now we need to go to a branch and he has to sign some paper and I have to show my ID.  Apparently they need to prove I'm still who I am.  Hopefully this fiasco will end on a positive note: Jim will become a true member of the bank and a responsible party of the credit card.

I am also excited, because I just received a package in the mail today - The Story For Children and The Story for adults.  This book is being used by Zoe's classroom for her Bible curriculum.  I fell in love with the illustrations and concept, so I had to have it for her (and Evie).  I also felt that I needed to read the book too!  So now I have my Bible as one continuing story of God and His people.  :)  I will definitely let you know, reader, what my opinion is of the series.  Have a glorious weekend.

A Night At PineHurst

Below is the entry Jim and I wrote and submitted to Children's Writer today:

“Good evening.  My name is Miranda Witsworth.  I am coming to you from PineHurst Mental Institution.  Originally called Pennsylvania’s State Institution for the Feeble-Minded and Epileptic, PineHurst went under scrutiny in the 1970s and finally closed its doors in 1987.  Since closing, people have spoke of hauntingly strange happenings on the campus.  My friends and I will be spending the night within its walls, and filming our findings.  Our hope is to put to rest, once and for all, the urban legends surrounding this place...”

“Friend,” I sighed under my breath.  Just her friend.  Miranda, the most beautiful girl at school, and me her equipment carrying friend.  Thankfully, Pete tagged along to make the situation less awkward.

“So what did you boys think?” Miranda asked sweetly.  “Do I sound like a real reporter?”

“You bet!” Pete exclaimed.  Miranda had that effect on everyone.

“Max? Max? Max!  What did you think?” Miranda called out to me.

I desperately wanted to answer, but I was frozen in fear.  My body was covered in prickling goosebumps and I couldn’t even utter a pathetic squeak.  The ominous graffiti on the cracked and crumbling walls was everywhere.  But the one phrase completely paralysing my mind and body was, “G.O.D. isn’t here.”

“Max, what is it?” Pete shook me.

“That,” I said pointing to the etched graffiti.  

“Why are there periods after each letter in God?” Miranda questioned.  

“Always the detective,” I thought.

All of a sudden there was an eerie almost disembodied laugh coming from down the corridor.  “Guys, did you hear that?”  My voice had barely returned.

“Did you hear a ghost Max?” Pete teased.  “Did it say ‘‘booooo!’?”

“Max, we’ve only been here less than a half...” Miranda was abruptly cut off.  There was the sound again; the sound of a little girl laughing.  I was grateful that Pete and Miranda both heard the voice this time too.

“Is there someone here with us?” Miranda exclaimed.  But the only answer was ghostly laughter.  “Well I guess we need to investigate boys,” Miranda asserted.  “Roll the camera Pete!”  “Oh brother,” I thought.

We began walking down hallway after hallway following the laughter only pausing briefly to catch our breaths or avoid an old discarded item in our path.  We would have continued had we not been abruptly stopped by a door with the words “G.O.D. isn’t here” etched below the epithet “Stairs To Tunnels”.

“Are you sure you guys want to continue?” I said with trepidation.

“Well, it’s the only way we’ll ever find out who or what is making that noise.  And I for one need to get to the bottom of this for our viewers.” Miranda said while looking professionally poised for the camera.  “Come on!”

We quickly descended the stairs and waited for the laughter to dictate our direction.  But we couldn’t hear it anymore.  Miranda called out, “Little girl where are you?”

Then everything went black.

I woke up in darkness, the back of my head throbbing in dull pain.  As I began to become more aware of my surroundings, I realized there was a constant sound of soft sobbing to my left.  My tongue felt dry and heavy as I said the first name that popped into my head.

“Miranda”, my voice sounded odd and alien to me.

The sobbing stopped and there was silence for what seems like an eternity; then a voice answered, “Is that you Max?”

“Yes”, was all I could manage as an answer.  I was vaguely aware of my voice being louder now, and that it was echoing oddly around me.

“Keep your voice down” Miranda replied, “if they hear you they will come back!”  I still couldn’t see her, but I thought I heard panic in her voice.  I was trying to remember what had happened and how we had gotten here.  I was drawing a blank.

“Was it ghosts?” I asked weakly.  There was a pause before Miranda answered and I became aware of a clicking noise echoing from what seemed to be far off.  Miranda’s voice started to shake when she answered.  I could tell she was on the verge of crying again.

“I don’t know where they came from,” she sobbed.  “We had descended the stairs and I called out to the little girl hoping to hear another giggle.  Then all of the sudden they were all around us.  I suppose they must have been hiding in the rooms.  They knocked you and Pete out and then turned to me”.  Miranda began to sob.  “Pete... he’s down here too... I’m not even sure if he’s breathing”.

I tried to process all of this.  It seemed like a bad dream.  So I did what anyone in this mess would do - I closed my eyes and pinched myself to wake up.  I slowly opened my eyes, but lost all hope when my surroundings hadn’t changed.

It was at this moment I realized the clicking sound was getting closer and it wasn’t just one click, but many clicks.  I tried crawling closer to Miranda, but my limbs were rubber.  My eyes began to adjust to the darkness and I realized it was lighter above us.  I could only see a dim outline of Miranda as she slowly crawled over to me.  I put my arm around her, and the two of us sat huddled together in desperation.

Above us, shadowy figures were lining the edge of our prison.  I could see the walls faintly now, and I could make out a large, spray-painted 10’ symbol.  “This must have been a diving pool at one point,” I thought.  The clicking sound had faded now and the pool was completely surrounded by people.  I couldn’t see any of their faces, but their clothes were filthy and in tatters.  Some held canes or rested on crutches.  “The clicking,” I thought.  Suddenly the darkness was broken by a blinding light; someone was shining a flashlight into our faces.  

A voice, slow and slurred, began to speak. “Why have you come to Home?”

Miranda spoke before I did, her voice a flurry of fear, “Please we are really sorry we didn’t know anyone was here and we didn’t mean to trespass if you let us go we swear we will never come back and never talk about it if you just let us go please”.  There was barely a breath in there and the stream of words broke down into sobs.  She ended with, “I just want to go home”.

My eyes were adjusting to the light now and I could see the faces of our captors.  They looked haggard, and in many cases deformed.  There were eyes that were too far apart, noses bent to one side, and mouths hanging slack.  The only thing I could think to say was, “Who are you?”

The one holding the flashlight answered back in his slurred voice, “We are the people who live here.  This is Home.  We were always here.  Once there were other people, the ones who hurt us.  They called themselves Guard, Orderly and Doctor.  Then they told us that Home was being shut down.  They left and told us we had to leave too, but we had nowhere to go, so we came back.  We will not leave Home.”

“We didn’t know you were here,” I yelled.  “If you let us go, we won’t tell anyone you are here.”  Through the pain and exhaustion, I tried to sound as assertive and angry as I could.  “If you don’t let us go, someone will come looking for us and they will kick you out of here!”

There was a chuckle this time before the voice began to speak.  “The men in the car with Blue and Red lights were already here.  They didn’t find you.  They don’t like to come down here.  They will find your car and cameras down by the river.  They will stop looking for you.

Miranda’s sobbing grew louder and my heart sank. My only response was, “Why? What do you want with us?”

There was a soft fluttery sound that ended in a dull thud as a packet of cloth landed next to me.  One landed by Miranda, and another by Pete.  I picked up the one closest to me.  It was a guard uniform.  Miranda held up a pair of scrubs.  I could barely make out what seemed to be a lab coat next to poor Pete.

“You will put these on,” the voice said.  “Tonight is the anniversary of when the Guards, Orderlies and Doctors left Home.  These people hurt us, so on Anniversary, we remember them and the the hurt they would do if they came back.”

Miranda was hunched over holding her costume sobbing, not even looking up or responding anymore.  I looked at the people above and realized they were all holding large rocks in their hands.  That was the moment I realized there are things much scarier than ghosts.

Grace for All (Part #2)

Two weeks ago, I wrote a blog about Grace: Grace for All and then I read The Ragamuffin Gospel and established new ideas of what Grace means.

Grace Proclaims the Awesome Truth that ALL is Gift
Brennan Manning stated the above and a light bulb appeared over my head.   Everything in our lives is a gift. Everything.  Not just what we THINK is a gift, everything that we have or see or hear or...well, just everything.  Brennan goes on to state:

"While there is much we may have earned - our degree, our salary, our home and garden, and a good night's sleep - all this is possible only because we have been given so much: life itself, eyes to see and hands to touch, a mind to shape ideas, and a heart to beat with love."

Let the Children Come to Me
If we are truly come to God as a child, a child hasn't really "earned" anything yet.  A child is open and honest.  A child is able to love and believe because they have life, not because they have been given a good job or found a life partner.  What about the person with special needs who might not be able to achieve a doctorate degree or a mansion and a yacht?  Are they less of a person?  Not in God's eyes.  He sees the heart - open and knowing.

I have been very blessed to have taught special needs students.  In fact, I have a few this year too.  One young man is in my 6th-8th grade music class at the school.  He has aspergers syndrome and his grandma spoke to me before the first class to let me know.  I had already viewed her grandson in a few social environments and knew he was a spectrum kid.  I believe music is a wonderful way to connect with children with special needs.  I have been making sure to call on this child and allow him to participate to his comfort level.  I got a message this morning via Facebook:

"Just want you to know how much xxxx is enjoying music class.....for the first time in his life, by the way!!!! Thank you Michelle!!"

But the truth is: her grandson is the blessing to me.  It is through children I see God's grace and His love.  

Everyday Mysteries

Brennan Manning writes:

"The gospel of grace calls us to sing of the everyday mystery of intimacy with God instead of always seeking for miracles or visions.  It calls us to sing of the spiritual roots such commonplace experiences as falling in love, telling the truth, raising a child, teaching a class, forgiving each other after we have hurt each other, standing together in the bad weather of life, of surprise and sexuality, and the radiance of existence."

Grace is everywhere and in everything we have.  How often we forget that if we are looking for "mountain top" experiences?  When truly we should be taking in what is right in front of our noses - looking to the current level of our world.  Our world is completely saturated with God's Love and Grace.  We are part of that, but so is EVERYTHING around us.  Why is this so hard to grasp?

I think it is because we cannot even imagine how great His love for us is.  I do think as a parent my understanding of God's love for us (his children) is much greater, but even then I know I am not even able to grasp it completely.  

I will leave you with this passage from Andrew Greeley's "What a Modern Catholic Believes About God":

"Reject Christianity, if you will, out of motives of cynicism; turn away from it because you believe.  Reality is malign and punitive; choose a God that is cantankerous, vindictive, or forgetful, or determined to keep man in his place, if such a God is more to your choosing.  If you cannot accept the idea that love is at the core of the universe, that is your privilege.  If you do not believe that the Absolute passionately wants to be our friend and our lover, then by all means reject such a seemingly absurd notion.  If you do not believe that we have the enthusiasm and the strength and the courage and the creativity to love one another as friends, then quickly cast aside such an incredible idea into the trash can.  And if you think it is ridiculous to believe that life will triumph over death, then don't bother with Christianity, because you can't be a Christian unless you believe that."

Which Hat Do I Wear Now?

or...how to keep a work/life balance in the midst of chaos

Lady Susana
http://www.flickr.com/photos/hortulus_aptus/2094078254/lightbox/

I have been extremely busy the last few weeks, as has been illustrated by my complete lack of blog posting.  I have been spending my time working on curriculum, organizing and cleaning my teaching space, researching Christmas programs, determining my work/life schedule, helping children with homework, etc.  But today, I decided it was time to update my readers on what has been going on in my neck of the woods (ahem...or my 1920s home).

The School Teacher Hat
I accepted the music position at the 11th hour - which basically means I had to bust my butt triple time to even be ready for the first day of school.  The previous teacher was not organized nor did he leave a synopsis of what he taught the children during his tenure.  After hours and hours of cleaning, I uncovered a ton of curriculum - quite good curriculum.  However, as I expected most of the students are not even familiar with a quarter note, let alone the solfege hand signs.  Which basically suggests that my predecessor did his "own" thing.  And really at this point it doesn't matter.

I have downloaded the grade level curriculum for the state and hopefully by June the kids will have a better understanding of what they should know.  Of course this is a tricky area, considering the 8th graders have the biggest gap to cover and they are the most resistant.  But I have not lost faith.

I realize that music must has been a "blow off" in the past, but I sincerely believe in the power of music and that these children have been given a true gift with having music instruction twice a week.

If you are interested in reading my daily/weekly stuff for music teaching you can go to: Music Musings.

The Private Teacher Hat
I determined my schedule would not accommodate teaching on Friday afternoons/evenings/at all.  I still have a little Evie home on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so it is pretty difficult to get everything done on those days.  Evie is my most compliant child (currently), so I am able to sit here and type a blog while she colors, etc.  But I currently continue to teach private lessons on Tuesdays, so it is a all I can do to get dinner ready in the crock pot and Zoe home from school before the crazy begins.  Regardless, I am noticing that Mondays are really tough.  I teach at the school all day and then I teach another 2 hours in the evening.  I have toyed with the idea of teaching on Thursday evenings instead, but I look to Thursdays as my one FULL day without ANYTHING to do....so I clean the house.

I am also toying with the idea of NOT doing a fall recital.  I have been doing 2 recitals for over 10 years now, and I feel quite obligated to my students and their families to continue with the way it has been.  However, I also used to teach through the summer months and had students with prepared music for the fall recital.  Since I no longer teach the summer through, I almost feel that 10 weeks is a lot of pressure to perfect music - especially for my older/more advanced students.  It also allows my new students time to feel comfortable for the spring recital.

I am leaning towards NOT doing the fall recital.  I just need to feel justified.  I know...take the leap.  But I still have that stupid guilt.

The Mommy Hat
The school year is in full swing.  Evie has a wonderful teacher who has been at the school for a long time.  I have not one concern with her - I truly love her hands on teaching style.  I am waiting (with baited breath) for my Van Gogh Eva to add to the wall with the Van Gogh Zoe.  The Kindergarten teacher is also the art teacher, so her kids learn different artists and then reproduce their own versions of famous works.  Just awesome.

Zoe started the school year crying. Her teacher from last year resigned 3 weeks before the school year started.  I promised Zoe that her teacher would be great, and we cannot be happier. Zoe quickly lost the tears, and loves her teacher. I really love her teacher too.  She is not the same teacher as the one who resigned, but in many ways I like her teaching style better.  The kids are working with their entire bodies to learn and I find that awesome!  Learning is more than facts and regurgitating answers, it is understanding and being able to retain the information well after a test or quiz.

Both girls are in baton, and Zoe is in her 5th year of ballet.  I am very unstressed with their after school choices, considering I don't have to drive back and forth multiple times a week.  One location.  One night.  One hour.  Perfect.

The Wife Hat
I am excited for this weekend.  Why?  Because Jim and I are celebrating 10 years of marriage on Friday!  We have been through so much, and I think back to 2 years ago and how things have changed dramatically since.  I am really looking forward to the time alone to connect alone.

So this is what I have been up to the last few weeks.  I look forward to getting back to a more often blog in the future.