Picking Up Pennies

Worth The Risk

I have a job interview.  While this seems like a completely normal event, it isn’t.  My primary vocation for the last 18 years has been motherhood.   Oh, I’ve had part-time jobs.  Day care provider, Wal-Mart shoe associate, librarian, field trip presenter at a Children’s Museum and substitute teacher have been a few of the hats I have worn.   Each has required an interview of some sort.  But this interview would be my first for a full-time job with a salary and benefits.  Big time stuff.  My greatest worry?  Suitable attire. 

Deeper and deeper I pushed my way to the back of my closet.  Everyone knows that The Back Of The Closet is reserved parking for outfits for Special Occasions.   Funerals, weddings, and formal company dinner wear all hung in silent stillness. Mocking me.  I had nothing.  I began to do what my occupation as a mother has taught me to do quite skillfully.  Improvise.   Let’s start with a black skirt given to me by neighbor and friend Haley.   Slide on fabulous heels from workout partner and karaoke instigator Pam.  There, bottom half done.  This led to walking around in skirt, heels and bra while trying on every conceivable blouse I owned.  Yes, blouse.  It is a lady-like word for a garment that can be worn with style and sophistication.  It is not a tank top.  It is not a shirt.  Sit up and take note young ladies.  Don’t I sound like a teacher already?  OK, except for the walking around in my bra part.  The blouse I decided on was a perfect candidate.  A print with black, tan and gray that had a flattering neckline and a graceful length, the problem was it was sleeveless.  I texted my fashion consultant and Mother Teresa friend, Shannon.  I drove myself over to her house, with my blouse on.  I walked in the door.  She looked at me, marched straight to her closet, and with a flourish, pulled out the perfect black teacher cardigan with three quarter length sleeves and just the right amount of bling buttons.   I was ready.

Here’s the deal.  My biggest stress was my wardrobe because I am a 39 year old woman with two degrees.  I know how to write an answer to a question that frames the problem and provides a clear and empathetic solution.  I can communicate and support answers to questions with facts and examples from personal experience.  I love to ask questions.  I have a passion for learning.  I think middle school students are the best.  I love their energy, their wacky sense of humor and they way they respond to you when they figure out that you really do care about them.  For Reals.   I look forward to answering questions in this interview and asking questions of my own.  I have a list.  I know who I am, and it’s a beautiful thing.  I can walk into the interview tomorrow and proudly represent who I am and what has shaped me to be the best teacher I can be.  I would not trade one day of motherhood for any other occupation.  It is the toughest training field there is.  I have been tempted to write “Queen of Improv” in the occupation box for surveys, it defines a large part of what I do.

The position I am interviewing for is teaching “at-risk” middle school students.  I would be working with students in the 6^th-8^th grades.   I dig these kids.  The challenges they must overcome are greater than most of their peers.  Their victories in school are even sweeter.  It is not an easy job, but it is one that will make a difference in ways that will not be revealed until years have passed. 

When I have questions I go to books.  I read.  I research.  I soak up everything I can.  As I researched “at-risk” middle school students I stumbled across a hilarious and straight shooting book by Dr. Michael J. Bradley called “Yes, Your Teen Is Crazy”.   Not only does the good doctor explain what is happening in the teen brain he gave a scenario of what a typical day would sound like for teen. 

 

It starts with the opening of his eyes “WHY CAN’T YOU GET UP

ON TIME?” carries into morning “WHY CAN’T YOU RAISE YOUR

HAND?” evolves through the afternoon “WHY CAN’T YOU FIELD

GROUNDERS TO YOUR LEFT?” and continues into the evening

“WHY CAN’T YOU MAKE ENOUGH MONEY TO TAKE ME TO

THE ‘FLAMING PUKES’ CONCERT?” As the day ends he drifts off

to sleep hearing that sweet adolescent lullaby, “PIGS COULDN’T

STAND TO LIVE IN YOUR ROOM.”- Yes, Your Teen Is Crazy by Dr.Michael J. Bradley

 

It gives you pause, doesn’t it?  I have three teenage sons living under my roof right now and it is both wonderful and maddening.  As a parent it is a bittersweet time.  Your children are growing up, figuring out who they are, and you are there to help guide them on the rollercoaster of hormones and emotions.  You are also turning gray with worry and trying not the throw up when they circle every loop at mach speed.

Wish me luck tomorrow, will you?  I will carry all that I have learned with me into that room full of people who want to know why I want to teach these students.  They won’t care too much about what I am wearing, they just want to see that I have a passion for making a difference.  I suppose that’s what every interview we have is about, why we do what we do.  Are you making a difference?

 
 
Interview ready.   

Keep Portland Weird

It’s a crazy idea, but it just might work.   Plan: Go to Portland, Oregon and attend the Leverage Con-Con to celebrate my graduation.  I wanted something zany, different and a bit off the wall to commemorate two years of throwing the spinning plates of grad school classes, SuperMom-ing to my Fab Four, and substitute teaching without permanently damaging anyone’s psyche.  For the most part.  A few chips never hurt anyone, right?   Surrounded by piles of papers for my teaching portfolio, I decided that this was  “A Plan That Just Might Work”.  I called the Vicki Lawrence to my Carol Burnett and asked her if she’d go on this celebratory adventure with me.    She was in.   She didn’t know jack about the show Leverage, or the characters, or the writers I revered.  But she was in.  Mothers are like that.  They support their children’s wild hairs with a shrug of the shoulders and a suitcase in hand.   All aboard the Leverage Fun Train.

The next few weeks were full of planes, bus shuttles and automobile route planning.   Schedules were printed and updates of suitcase status were frequent.   My phone would ring.

My Mom: “How many shoes are you bringing?”

Me: “As many as my suitcase will hold.”

My Mom: “You can never have too many shoes.”

Both of us at the same time: “Agreed.”

The day after we bought our plane tickets I received an email.   The Con-Con was cancelled. 

Now what?

With a heavy heart I called my Mom with the news. 

“Maybe it was meant to be that I don’t go Mom.”

My mother was unusually quiet.   She didn’t say much, just acknowledged that our built up excitement for a trip together was popped like a party balloon.  We hung up.

The next morning she called with resolve and announced we were going to Portland anyway, Con or no Con.  The helium tank was once again turned on and we were giddy with plans.  I happened to hop on Twitter and noticed one of the fans I followed from Leverage mentioned a group was still getting together in Portland to have their own Leverage convention called FanCon.   I checked out the Facebook page and indicated my interest in some of the activities they had planned.   A few days later I checked the activities again.  Whoa.  A locations walking tour with co-producer Rachel Olschan.   A surprise from Dean Devlin, producer, director, and founder of Electric Entertainment.   A Leverage set tour with JOHN ROGERS.   John. Rogers.   Fan girl squeal.   I immediately called my Mom.

Me (screaming like a Showcase Showdown winner on “The Price is Right”) : “Baaaaahhhhhh,  John Rogers is doing a set tour.   Baaaaaaahhhhh.”

My Mom:  “Who’s John Rogers?  Is he the guy with the long hair you went to see sing for your birthday?  The country guy?”

At this point I am pacing around my kitchen like a person who hasn’t taken their Ritalin dose for the day.

Me:  “No, no.  He’s the co-creator and writer for Leverage.” 

I breathe into a paper bag.

Metaphorically speaking.

My Mom:  “Okay, well, sign us up for whatever you want to do.  I’m along for the ride.”

I’ve watched Leverage on TNT since Season 1.   I caught the show a few episodes into the first season and went online to TNT’s website to catch up on the ones I missed.  Being the research nerd I am I looked at the actors’ bios and the interviews featured on TNT’s page.   One was with the creators of the show,  John Rogers and Chris Downey.   I was hooked.   I began to follow John’s blog, “Kung Fu Monkey” and the different cast and crew members from the show on Twitter.  I especially loved reading all the different writers’ tweets.  These people love their jobs and it adds to the awesomesauce that show already possesses.   My geekiness was fueled even more when I bought Season 1 and Season 2 on DVD.   I listened to the commentary for each episode.    The writer(s) for the episode would usually be joined by the director and JOHN ROGERS (cue Beatles fangirl admiration), and they would discuss character arcs, backstories, pipe, evil speeches of evil and other wondrous word play involved in the show’s storyline.   Hand me a bag of Cheetos, I was an addict.

We arrived in Portland to glorious sunshine and checked into The Governor Hotel, host site to the first Leverage convention and a location used several times on the show.  There was a meet and greet dinner that night, and as I was getting ready, my mother asked if I thought John Rogers would be there.  I immediately burned my forehead with my curling iron.  That’s gonna leave a mark.   So now added to my nervous state I had a Mikhail Gorbachev size burn on my forehead.   Okay, so it wasn’t that big, but it felt like it.  At least I wasn’t breaking out in stalker-like hives like Woogie from “Something About Mary”.    The dinner was a lovely affair at Jake’s and my Mom and I met wonderful Portland native and fellow Leverage fan, Linda.  She offered to take us sightseeing around Portland after the locations walk Saturday morning.   Small town friendliness in a big city.  After dinner we proceeded to our room and collapsed into travel deprived sleep.

 We had the next day to ourselves.  This left time for exploration of Portland by two women who have no sense of direction.  We soon discovered that All Roads Lead To Nordstrom’s.   No matter what we were trying to find, we’d end up with those red flags flying in our sight line.   It became our running mantra.  We consulted our list from Friendly Native Linda and started our day at Kenny and Zuke’s with a blintz from the heavens breakfast.  From there we moved on to a three hour tour of Powell’s, The City of Books. Did I mention my Mom and I are voracious readers?  Several books and hilarious inappropriate magnets later, we headed back to the hotel, via the Nordstrom Bypass.  The afternoon was spent (literally and monetarily) doing the Mom Makeover.   The Bobbi Brown counter and Prima Hair Salon will never be the same.  Hugs all around, from everyone, for my mother as we left both places.  My Mom was just glowing with her new fab self.   The Fun Train Never Stops.

The walking tour dawned bright, sunny and warm.  Thank you Portland weather.   I knew right out of the gates that I would like Rachel Olschan and her team of Jose and Paola.  They had maps with tiny, typed, hot pink Post-It notes for each episode, with detailed information, strategically placed in the correct location, for each person. A work of art in my OCD eyes. The tour was relaxed and we were treated to interesting behind the scenes stories for each stop on the map. The trio from the show who led the tours could not have been more genuine or personable.  Did I mention with weather was sublime?   As we were walking on the tour with Friendly Native Linda we met Genevieve, the Anthropologist from Montreal.  She’s a Leverage fan too.  We invited her to join our merry band for a visit to Multnomah Falls and she accepted. 

The falls were nothing short of spectacular.  We made it back to the city in time for the screening at The Living Room Theater, it was a private viewing of the Season 4 premiere of Leverage.  It was especially cool, as the show will not air until June 26 on TNT.  Actress Gina Bellman and Costume Designer Nadine Haders gave a quick, warm welcome and we settled in to view the familiar funny team of five and swallowed the tearful lumps in our throats during the poignant scenes during the episode.  After the show was finished, we were greeted with a wonderful surprise panel for Q and A with JOHN ROGERS, writer M. Scott Veach, stunt coordinator Kevin Jackson, actors Aldis Hodge and Timothy Hutton and producer Rachel Olschan.   It was a pinch me moment.  Every person on the panel was gracious in answering questions, but Kevin Jackson’s answer about what he loved about working on Leverage was so heartfelt, it made me tear up a bit.  He truly conveyed the family atmosphere on the set.   I was trying to work up enough nerve to ask John Rogers a question. Nearing the end of the Q and A time I took the plunge.  My heart was thudding right through my chest as I gingerly raised my hand.  The question I asked he had mentioned on his blog and in the Season 3 DVD commentaries, so I believe it’s OK for me to write about.   I asked him if it was true that he could recite all of Shakespeare’s works, based on locations in his high school gym.  He uses a Roman Room technique to remember them.  He smiled and said he was rusty and would need some practice.  Tim Hutton added they would make a video and post it when John was ready to do it.   Double rainbow win.

After we filed out of the screening JOHN ROGERS stood in the hallway and graciously signed Leverage posters that were given at the screening.  My mother kept nudging me to go forward.   M. Scott Veach, a writer from the show, kindly agreed to take a picture with me and I remarked in nerd wonderment that JOHN ROGERS was standing right over there and I was geeking out.   He replied that he geeked out every day he walked into John’s office. I’m sure he said it to make me feel better, he also must have an amazing memory because he remembered my Twitter name.  I had tweeted him how much I liked one of the episodes he wrote in Season 3 and he was nice enough to tweet me back.    So, with my poster in my hand, I approached John Rogers and asked if he would sign it and take a picture with me.  I am sure I was babbling.  I have no idea what I said.  My Mom snapped the picture and then Friendly Native Linda, Mom, Anthropologist Genevieve and I walked to Oba for dinner.  I will neither confirm nor deny that I did a little dance, with my hands in the air, while walking in the crosswalk.  I may or may not have yelled, “I took a picture with JOHN ROGERS!” at the car waiting in the intersection.   They honked at my exuberance.  Or my crazy.  I’m going with first choice.

The Fun Train rolled on.   The set tour was the next day, led by JOHN ROGERS.  It is one thing to see a set on your television as you watch a show, it is another level of surreal to be standing on the set and listening to one of the creators of the show talk about it.   As we gathered on the set that housed the bar on the show JOHN ROGERS asked who had the Shakespeare question from yesterday.   I raised my wobbly hand and my mother pushed me forward.   Again.   He then launched into a  discussion of how he came to acquire this skill of retaining “useless bits of information” using a technique called the Roman Room.  He added that attaching filthy images to remember large amounts of information was immensely helpful.  Then he did it.  He spouted off all of Shakespeare’s works according to locations in his high school gym.   Give that man a bottle of the finest whiskey.  Bravo!   At the end of the set tour Rachel Olschan announced John had to leave to scout locations.  Linda sidled up to me and told me to get out my Leverage mug for him to sign.   I had carried it in my purse from Wisconsin with a homemade bag of cheese curds.  Okay, okay so I didn’t have the curds.  Months before my birthday, I had posted a picture on my Facebook wall saying that I’d love to have the writers of Leverage sign a mug for me and I’d use it for writing pens when I wrote my first book.    My Mom remembered and gave it to me for my birthday in January.  Here I was, mug in hand, asking THEE JOHN ROGERS, a talented writer whose work I admire, to sign my Leverage mug.  As he signed his name, Linda leaned forward and told him my name.   He asked if it was one “n” or two for Jen.  I managed to reply and then he inscribed these words across the top:

 Jen, type faster!

I was ridiculously thrilled.   After the tour we had brunch at Mother’s Bistro & Bar with Linda and Genevieve.   Linda dropped us off at the top of hill near The Governor hotel and we walked back, Leverage posters in hand.   When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but JOHN ROGERS and his group of location scouting peers.   Seriously.  They arrived and walked in nearly at the same time as us.    John took a seat in the lobby chair and I looked at him, waved my autographed Leverage poster and room key card, and exclaimed, “I’m not stalking you.  I am actually staying here!”   I kept right on walking and as the elevator doors closed I looked at my Mom and squeaked,  “JOHN.  ROGERS.”

That evening, as we packed to go home, my Mom remarked that it was really neat John Roberts signed my mug.   I hung my head down and sighed. 

Me:  “Rogers.”

My Mom:  “Oh, you know what I meant.”

She had been mixing up the names of the cast members of Leverage all weekend.  This would send Linda, Genevieve and I into hysterical laughter.  Christian Kane was “Christopher”.   Gina Bellman was “Jenna”.   Aldis Hodge was…”Elvis”.   My mother never got Tim Hutton’s name wrong, though.   That’s all I’m going to say about that.

So our Carol Burnett variety show of a vacation was over.  It was a memory making trip with my Mom that I will never forget.   So long Portland, keep it weird.

 
Welcome to Portland.

  

  

 
Jose, one of the Leverage walking tour guides and storyteller extraordinaire.  Don't touch the wire.

  

 Leverage set tour.  Linda, Genevieve, Mom and I. 

  

 

 
Coffee.  It's what's for dinner.  Deliciously good times with my Mom in Portland.

 

 
Fangirl squeal.   Picture with John Rogers.

 

 

My Writing Cup of Inspiration, signed by John Rogers.

  

 
Final question:  "Mom, who is this man?"

  

 

 

What's On Your Plate?

Mom’s spaghetti, by request, for a birthday meal every year. 

Big, fat, soft cookies nestled between wax paper in tins, tucked into the bottom cupboard, Molasses Drop Cakes.  

Grapefruit mornings with a reluctant Grandpa.

Dad’s biscuits and gravy for breakfast and Mom’s rhubarb crisp, made from the rhubarb growing in the backyard. 

Oh, the smells of food and the people they represent.  These were what our book club shared when we began to discuss Jael McHenry’s “The Kitchen Daughter”.    The story features a twenty-six year old girl, with Asperger’s Syndrome, named Ginny and how she copes with her unexpected death of her parents by cooking in the kitchen.

Following tradition we each shared our favorite scenes from the book.   Laurie found it poignant and unexpected how David appears when Ginny makes his hot chocolate at the end of the book.   We all agreed, but I love how Ginny describes David when she first meets him.

“His voice is muddy, that’s what it is. Dark and brown and muddy. A note to it like coffee left too long on the burner. And unsweetened, bitter chocolate. But there’s dirt in it too, deep, dark dirt, like the garden in October. “ –THE KITCHEN DAUGHTER

Heather found how Ginny soothes herself when she becomes stressed incredibly powerful and sweetly goosebump worthy.

 “I walk up the stairs, they squeak under my feet, I walk into my parents’ closet, pull the door tight shut, and sit down with my hands in Dad’s shoes. I need the dark. I need the comfort. I look for a food memory to calm me and I settle on ceviche.”-THE KITCHEN DAUGHTER

Heidi felt the connection between Ginny and her niece a nod to Ginny’s capacity for empathy.  She also felt the friendship and feeling useful, with the help of family housecleaner Gert, helped Ginny grow as well.

“Ginny, it is Gert,” says the familiar voice, all sweet dark poppy seeds.

“Gert! Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing wrong.”

“Because it’s not Thursday.”

 “No. Today I am calling for a different reason. I am calling as friend, asking favor.”

“Yes?”

She says, “I need a good cook, and you are the best. Can I come get you? I will explain.”

How can I refuse? Gert needs my help. No one ever needs my help.”-THE KITCHEN DAUGHTER

 

We all agreed we loved Ginny’s Normal Book, clippings from advice columns, she used to help her feel better about what “normal” really meant.   

“There are so many flavors of normal, it doesn’t matter which one I am. That’s what the Normal Book tells me. There really is no normal.”-THE KITCHEN DAUGHTER

We had a lengthy discussion about Asperger’s Syndrome, which led into how broad the spectrum is and a movie called “Temple Grandin”, based on the real story of a woman with autism. 

“The Kitchen Daughter” was a story that touched each of us differently and we all answered the question of how we cope with our emotions with varied perspectives.   I’ll end with the quote that we all found to be the perfect recipe when faced with struggles in our life.   It comes from Ginny.

“Difficult, but not impossible. I am not impossible.”-Ginny from THE KITCHEN DAUGHTER

 

 
Laurie, Heidi (standing), Jen and Heather.  The Lit Wits.  Photo credit to Heather's daughter, Claudia.   She's a talented ten year old who appreciates books.

 

 

Sisterhood of the Traveling Author Tour

I fished out just the right amount of change to pay for the parking garage.  I considered it a sign and eased into my parking space with a smile.   Warm sunshine poured down as I found my way to the bookstore for Rae Meadow’s Mother’s Day author reading.   The afternoon was a gift to myself, a literary field trip wrapped up in bow.   I recognized Rae straightaway and introduced myself.  We had been tweeting back and forth for awhile and it was lovely to meet her in person.  Quite appropriately she had her baby daughter with her, as her book was titled “Mothers and Daughters”, and the crowd that gathered reflected that theme as well.   The reading began with a full house,  and Rae’s daughter planted snuggly in her baby sling to share her writer mama’s spotlight.   As Rae’s husky voice delivered the story of three generations of women, the streets of New York came alive and the whistle of the Orphan Train called faintly in the distance.   Hints of heartache travelled across time and soon the whole room was drawn into the story of Violet, Iris and Samantha.  Afterwards I stood in line to have Rae sign a book for my Mom and we snapped a picture together.  As a bonus I was able to meet Rae’s entirely engaging friend and writer, Michelle Wildgen.   I have earmarked her book, “You’re Not You”, at the top of my reading list.   I left the reading and indulged in Thai noodles while seated near a window that framed Madison’s capital in the distance.   My Mother’s Day treat was complete and my second author reading was checked off on my travel log.

On the road again, ten days later, I again followed the familiar highway down south.  This time I was alighting on “The Bird Sisters” reading in Oconomowoc.  You have to say it.  It’s almost like a bird call.  See what I mean?  Rebecca Rasmussen had been a Twitter friend for a long while as well, so it was a midweek treat to meet her.  Funny thing, though, the Garmin in my car led me to a fruit stand in the middle of a highway instead of the quaint bookstore that held the event.  I resorted to calling my seventeen year old son for direction help and ended up pulling into a Culver’s parking lot and asking a Mom with a little girl for the location.   Rebecca was as lovely to meet in person as I had expected.  We chatted for bit before her reading, and as I settled into my seat to listen to the reading we exchanged wide grins like two long-lost friends. “The Bird Sisters” is about two sisters and it travels the landscape of family set in Spring Green, Wisconsin.  As Rebecca read the first chapter it echoed the style of the book itself, beautiful poetry, dotted with humor and characters that resonate.   I’m talking about a priest with a hankering for a Mexican getaway and a ferris wheel ride with a goat.  The story is told both to the softly accented voice of young love,  with crushing disappointments, and the shading of age old wisdom, the kind we have when we put out hands to our brow and look back at our life choices.   Standing in line to have a book signed I struck up conversation with Charlotte, another reader fan of Rebecca.   She carried with her a heart-tugging picture of her namesake and bird caretaker, her aunt.   It was so perfectly wonderful, this photo.   The woman wore a vibrant red dress and had her arms crossed and held, ever so gently, with a bird perched on her hand.  The backdrop was filled with light from floor to ceiling windows, a perfect portrait of a bird sister.  Charlotte let me coax her into taking her picture, with paper birds flying against the bookstore window as backdrop.  Rebecca and I chatted over chai tea and shared a turtle cheesecake that was chewy cement goodness after the event.  It was truly like meeting an old friend.   So my third author adventure was indeed a charm, the cherished gift in the shape of a bird, who knows where it will take me next?

 
Striking a pose with Rae Meadows,  author of "Mothers & Daughters".

 

 
Comfy chairs for Rebecca Rasmussen, author of "The Bird Sisters", and I.

 

 
Charlotte, fellow reader and author event attender, shows her lovely aunt and bird lady in a photograph she is holding.  Is that perfect or what?

A Different Point of View

 

“Who among us is not stained by the past?” 

As we went around the room at book club this was Jennie’s choice of what resonated with her from Jenna Blum’s “Those Who Save Us”.   Heather said she cried when Anna’s stollen dish was left untouched on the refreshment table at the church’s potluck.  Shaunda wondered if Anna REALLY fell in love with Obersturmfuhrer.     Lisa once again gave a double dose of observation.  She had a pit in her stomach each time an encounter with the Obersturmfuhrer was presented. On the other hand, she laughingly pointed out how she identified with Trudy when she huffed and was offended when her ex-husband compared her to mother.  Recalling the part in the book where Trudy goes home and purposely “messes up” her house, only to clean it up because she couldn’t stand leaving it that way, proves how far we go to show “we are not like our mother”.  Heidi noted she found the powerful mother/daughter relationship intricately layered and loved how it wasn’t completely resolved in a neat little bow at the end of the book. This segued beautifully into many comments that started with,  “I love my Mom, but…”  followed by gales of laughter.  

The discussion questions we used were straight from the author’s page, however I am quite certain that the modesty and older women discussion we howled over would have had Jenna Blum rolling on the floor.  It’s all Heather’s fault.  She brought up that she has a friend who is a nurse and cares for elderly patients who have Alzheimer’s.   One of the things the nurses encourage the patients to do is start with their opposite leg when getting dressed, as a way to exercise their brain.   Well, these ladies protested, they would fall over if they started with their left leg.  The nurse made the simple suggestion of sitting on their bed to help keep their balance.  Shocked the elderly woman asked, “With my bare bottom?” 

The story was powerful, to the degree where every person in attendance had to put down the book at some point and come back to it later.   We agreed that this book would be a compelling movie and everyone affirmed that Alec Baldwin would indeed make a fine Obersturmfuhrer.  We all left with a new perspective about the Holocaust and the challenges for those who managed to survive through that time.

As for me, I am going to try to put on my pants with my opposite leg tomorrow morning. 

 
                        The Lit Wits: Heidi, Heather, Lisa, Jen, Shaunda & Jennie.

Book Winners: "Hot Sweaty Mamas: Five Secrets To Life As A Fit Mom"

 Two winners.    No April Foolin'.   Wendy Koz and Merjmo bravely left their comments and can email me at the address left in the comment section on the blog post.   I think one of my personal favorite features in this book is the "Sweaty Decision Tree".    It helps you answer the question, with all sorts of boxes and factors," Should I work out, or not?".    This book is not fitness Pollyanna, but real Moms dedicated to finding the blend of fitness balance and the crazy ride called motherhood.

I hope this book inspires you to make your fitness a priority and to feel great about the skin you are in.  Kara a genuine hot, sweaty mama and supportive friend.   Check in and let her know how you like the book here.

 

 

Work It Out: Win A Copy of "Hot (Sweaty) Mamas: Five Secrets to Life as a Fit Mom"

Working out is hard to do.  It’s even more daunting when you’re a Mom.  How do you fit it in?  What’s the best workout in the least amount of time?  Do these yoga pants have a built­­-in panty liner…’cuz if we are going to jumping around, I may spring a leak.

Answers to these questions and motivation to flex those kid-carrying muscles are in Kara Thom’s co-authored  book, “Hot (Sweaty) Mamas: Five Secrets to Life as a Fit Mom”.  To celebrate the release date of this book, March 29^th, I am giving a copy away on my blog. 

Here’s what you do to win this inspiring and realistic Mama-motivator of a book:

 Leave a comment on this blog post.  Share how you “fit” fitness into your life.   If you don’t, share what would motivate you to take care of you. 

I will pick a winner on Friday, April 1.  Winner will be announced on the blog by midnight, central time zone.   No foolin'!

In the meantime, check out this hilarious video with Kara and her kiddos incorporating fitness in the chaos of motherhood.

Ladies, you’re worth it.  Put a spring in your step and enter to win!   

 

Y'all Come Back Now...

 

Soft jazz floated through the air and a spicy chai, brimming in a generous coffee mug, rested within comforting reach.   The Lit Wit crowd arrived one by one and Ashley swept in with, “Where’s the purple velvet sofa?”.   Raves were heard all around from The Lit Wits for Beth Hoffman’s  “Saving Cee Cee Honeycutt”.    Carly joked it had been so long that she read a book that her name should be “The Book Virgin” on the blog.   Heather was so absorbed into the story she read it in two days.   Lisa felt it painted pictures so vivid she could see it as a movie.  I was given the dubious title of “Literary Goddess”.   Everyone else seemingly escaped without a moniker, we’ll have to fix that at the next meeting!

As we settled in and enjoyed some caffeine love at Mugs, we book talked.    Ashley had lived down south and reading this story evoked a homecoming tour feeling about places she had visited, like the lion in Forsyth Park and the Indian Tobacco Shop.   We all collectively sighed over Oletta’s cinnamon rolls and nodded knowingly, with a smile, about Oletta’s decision to mail a certain letter. 

Favorite scenes from the book travelled the length of Cee Cee’s journey.   Carly was taken in with the description of when Cee Cee first arrives at her Aunt Tootie’s, the gardens, the smell of Oletta’s cooking, the safety of a place to land.   My vote was for the purple velvet sofa friends and the sisterhood it represented.  Ashley enthusiastically acted out the slug throwing scene with Cee Cee and Miz Thelma Rae Goodpepper.  We all rolled with laughter recalling the garden party, Heather's favorite, and the mood quickly turned reflective when Lisa shared her favorite scene was when Cee Cee finally felt she was truly at home.

It was a lovely to take a breath during my week and talk about books and the ways that they speak to us.   The fire was warm and the conversation was lively.  Just the way Cee Cee would have liked it.  No frilly dresses required.

 
 The Lit Wits: Heather, Carly, Ashley, Jen and Lisa

Do You Believe?

I've become a bag lady.  A certifiable, card-carrying, over the shoulder burdened broad.  It is the ultimate accessory of a student teacher/Mom/wanna be rock star.  Yes, rock star. 

I've toted a hot-air popcorn popper, 24 individually wrapped string cheese sticks, snowpants and a homemade Valentine, decorated entirely with vivid purple crepe paper puffs, in my assorted baggage. 

Morning drives are my rehearsal time.  On my way to school I sing in my car.  Loudly.  I forget how loud, until, on two different occasions, a teacher has commented on the decibel level thumping from my vehicle as I pull into the parking lot.  I prefer the visual of "shimmering with soulful sound" as I glide into my parking space.  It sounds better than 39-year-old cranked-up stereo bag broad.  

Last Sunday, while a snowstorm fell steadily outside,  I sang in band at a benefit celebration for a 14 year old girl with leukemia.   It's been a three year battle  for her and her family, full of chemotherapy, a bone marrow transplant, and months-on-end stays at Children's Hospital in Milwaukee.   I wish that my fingers could type she triumphed over this disease and is completely cured.  But I cannot.

What I can show you is an evening where a conga line, filled with high and middle school students danced up and down the aisles of an auditorium.  They were celebrating, with this young lady and her family, hope and generosity of a community.  Fun fell through the air like a ticker tape parade.

I could show you a family laughing, singing and standing together, with their arms wrapped around each other, catching the joy that comes from focusing on the "here and now" and setting aside the "what may be". 

It was an evening to lay down my collection of bags and pick up a microphone.  Surrounded on stage by seasoned and talented musicians, complete with  a horn section, we rocked Motown tunes and burst at the seams singing "Walkin' On Sunshine".   Pure hope was sent out with vibes that rivalled the snowflakes outside. 

As the evening came to a close, I made my way through the crowd of people to say my goodbyes to the family.  As I leaned down to hug the guest of honor in her wheelchair, I whispered in her ear,  "You shine."   She smiled back at me and her silver dangly heart earrings winked in the light as she nodded.

My bags seem lighter lately.  When I take sweet inventory of my busy life,  I see a face that has freckles dancing across its nose and I am reminded of what it means to "Believe" .

 

 

 

Learning Curve

A pink flamingo silly band bracelet + a handful of goldfish crackers=  my first week of student teaching. 

What?  You don’t have that kind of math at your school?  On Monday I walked through the doors of a second grade classroom as a student teacher, not a four year veteran substitute.  It was a bit odd to be in the classroom with the teacher instead of running the show and shooting from hip when the situation called for it.   I’ve always thought that substitute teaching honed my improv skills.  Throw back your shoulders and fake it ‘til you make it, baby! 

 Besides, in what other profession would you get a rainbow crayon as a first day present?

What a week in the classroom.   Moments to remember: 

Vocabulary lesson with ELL students:  “Does it mean the dressing you put on your salad?”  The word was wrench. 

Morning circle:  Teacher: “What’s your number today?”  (Scale: 1, feelin’ crummy to 10, feelin’ awesome)

 Student:  “10.  I feel like a brand new man.” 

Teacher: “Wow!  Why is that?” 

Student: “I got new glasses.” He then pushes them up his nose, since the one bow is currently at a 180 degree angle.  (See how I got that math in there?  Connections, people, connections.)

Lost and Found:  I found a pink flamingo Silly Bandz bracelet on the floor of the classroom.  No one claimed ownership when I asked.  I slid it on my wrist and chalked it up to a sign.   A great reminder that I am learning to be a leader of this band, standing on one leg at times and flying my silly flag when it’s needed.

Point Sheet with Three Faces:  Math groups change and I see an old familiar imp of student.  He reminds me of the boy from the Jan Brett book, “The Mitten”.  He has trouble containing his blurts, and bless him, he knows it.  When I ask for his point sheet, his blue eyes radiate honesty and a flicker of a sheepish grin. 

 “Do you know what face I am going to circle?”  I ask, steadily looking into his eyes.  

“Yep”, he replies and points to the middle, a straight-lined expression. 

“Tomorrow,” I say, “Is a full-on smiley face day.” 

“Or a sad face.”  He replies with an energetic blurt, unable to stop the tumble.

I smile and shake my head.  He tilts his and grins back.

Welcome to second grade.