I need your grace to remind me to find my own

Let me tell you a story first. When Michael was a baby and then a toddler, he hardly ever ran a fever or acted like anything hurt when he was sick. I would take him for a well check-up, and the doctor would look in his ears and give me this "What kind of a mother ARE you?" look and say, "Were you aware your son has a raging ear infection?" Well, doc, no. Because he never gave me even the slightest reason to suspect that he was sick! We finally got the ear tubes in and the adenoids out and I bought a little doctor's light so I could always check his ears and throat for myself. Apparently, I had forgotten this lesson.

I couldn't stand waiting for Friday to get Michael's vision checked and then Monday to schedule a regular doctor appointment if necessary to determine the source of his headaches. It just didn't feel right. So I got him into his regular doctor yesterday. "Fever?" she asks. "Stuffy nose? Sore throat? Anything other than the headaches?" Nope, nope, and nope. She gets out her nifty little light and starts checking out the ears, throat, and nose.

So, apparently the child with no fever, no sore throat, and no sinus issues has a sinus infection. The doctor is 99% sure that is the source of the headaches and that a few days of antibiotics will have him feeling perky as ever. We went ahead with the eye appointment anyhow, just in case. (Just the tiniest start of near-sightedness, but not enough to warrant glasses yet.) He's now on the couch sleeping off the effects of having his pupils dilated. (Fun for all ages. Last time I had it done, the ensuing headache was bad enough to induce nausea.)

In the meantime, I've been hearing Joey cough a lot since yesterday. He assured me this morning it was no big deal. But every mother out there knows that a kid who's a little sick on Friday is almost guaranteed to be a lot sick as soon as the doctor's office closes for the weekend. Here's hoping I won't be kicking myself by tomorrow morning for not going with my instincts and dragging him into the doctor today, too.

The first and last breath don't matter, it's all the ones that are in between

The job is still the job. The kids have mostly settled into our little everyday routine and mostly behave pretty well for me. (Knock wood. Seriously knock wood.) Even the most shy among them have loosened up enough to talk to me at least a little. I still try to take a little time every day to get down on face to face, one to one level with each of them just to chat a little about something. I'm finding that having that connection helps a ton when I need them to really listen to me later on. Mostly. I think. Hey, it's a good theory? Well, if nothing else it makes me feel better, since I get the chance to get to know them all.

The middle school fiction writing class I teach is also going well. Even the more shy among them have loosened up and contributed in class. I still hear once in a while about our group brainstorming session which resulted in some spectacularly silly story premises. When I talk, they seem to be paying attention. When I ask questions, they really seem to have been paying attention. When I say, "That's your assignment for this week, you may have the rest of class to write," to a man they snatch out their pens and scribble furiously for the rest of class time. No complaints. No face-making. Lots of eager writing. I love that.

I managed to get back into a writing schedule for the last couple of weeks. This week so far, a good chunk of that schedule has been eaten up by shopping, both the regular and the Christmas gift variety. Good news is that I should be clear tomorrow and Thursday morning. Friday not so much, but I'll take two out of five and try to run with it.

Friday morning is not clear for writing because I will be taking the Michael-Monster to the eye doctor. I'm not convinced he has any real vision problems, but he's been complaining of headaches for a week now. No other symptoms, and he claims he can see fine, but the most logical step in a process of elimination suggested I start with the eyes. If that's not the problem, then next week we'll get his regular doctor involved, too. Most of the time when a child is not feeling well, I can make a pretty good guess as to what the problem is. I really HATE having no clue what the deal is or how to help him out.

When all you got to keep is strong

1. The past week has been underscored by a struggle with a mild bout of depression, possibly brought about at least in part by several gloomy, rainy days in a row. I have muddled through, managed to accomplish work both practical and creative in spite of the struggle, and think (hope) I am muddling through the tail end of the downswing.

2. My boys are bright and wonderful. (But we already knew that, didn't we?) First quarter report cards and conferences were all thumbs up, and fall break is in sight. (Three hours of school tomorrow before an early dismissal.)

3. The language arts substitute teacher they had for the first quarter stopped me in the hall Friday, her last day, to let me know how very awesome she thinks Michael is. In summary, she noted that yes, he has a somewhat nontraditional way of thinking and doing things, but she appreciates how very brilliantly that nontraditional mind works. Which is how I've always felt about him, so it was nice to know that other people, teachers even, are capable of taking him as he is and encouraging him instead of trying to cram him into some other, more acceptable mold. (And we all know how vehemently I oppose the cramming of people into molds that do not fit them.)

4. Apparently, several kindergarten parents have commented that their children sometimes plead to be allowed to go to extended care after school each day. I may be doing something right? On a more personal level, I have noticed that my toughest sell, a young man with blondeblondeblonde hair and a penchant for digging holes on the playground, has over the last nine weeks gone from barely speaking to me to calling me merely "Teacher" to gleefully calling out "Hi, Ms. Lori!" as he comes into the room each day. During lunch, I usually roam up and down the table and stop to talk to the kids once in a while if there are no milk cartons in need of opening or behaviors in need of correction. Last week, he stopped me as I came past his end of the table, by reaching out to playfully stomp my foot and scowl at me. I crouched down beside him. "Do you need your applesauce opened?" "No." "Need a spoon?" "No!" "What do you need, then?" "I want you to talk to me!"

Score.

5. Did I mention that fall break is a mere three hours of school away? I do not have to work tomorrow, so it'll be a quick drop off of kids, a grocery run, a couple blissful hours of silence, and a short sit in the car line to pick them up again. And then we have our lives all to ourselves for four whole days.

I won't mind if you can find the time to stay with me

I am finding that life with the kindergarten crew is not so hard. And not so easy. And mostly unpredictable. And we all know how well I handle unpredictable. I'm finding I can live with it and there are some bright spots, but I'm also pretty sure I could live without it and not miss it a whole bunch. Then again, my bloodwork has been turning in some odd results lately and we're still trying to straighten that out. So maybe I'm just tired and not entirely with it.

The boys both had The Flu last week. Yes. THE flu. They have both recovered, although Michael still acts and looks a little tired. They only missed three days of school each and managed to keep their work pretty well caught up along the way. Next week they have a field trip, two early dismissal days for conferences, and then FALL BREAK. Safe to say we're all looking forward to that.

This past Saturday I sat down and wrote in two blocks of writing time each weekday, one in the morning and one in the evening. Not that those blocks didn't already exist, but I thought maybe the act of writing them down would help me remember to actually use them. So far so good. Today I think I found the right voice for a flash piece I actually wrote the rough draft of several years ago. And this evening the final line of the story finally came to me. I think. Once I have the ending actually written, I'll know for sure. But it's certainly a much more finished piece than it was a couple of days ago.

Queued up on Rhapsody: The earlier Goo Goo Dolls albums. Which I'm finding I enjoy just as much as some of the more well-known tracks. I may have a new band for my favorites list.

She's a butterfly

It's been over a month since my last blog entry. And that last entry was misleading, since it suggested that no entries here meant I was working hard on other writing. The truth is, I have been working hard--just not so much at writing. Which is not to say I've done no writing at all. Just not as much as no blog entries at all might suggest.

What I have been doing is trying to adjust to the new responsibilities I took on at the beginning of the school year. I put in five hours a day with the school's extended care program, and I teach the middle school fiction writing class--and while the class itself is 45 minutes once a week, the prep work I put into coming up with the actual lesson plans takes several hours a week. So really, I'm working full-time now. The pay is lousy, and the work is challenging, but I'm finding I reap small, quiet rewards in places I hadn't completely expected.

But the fact remains that I am working full-time. And while I could use that as an excuse for not writing more--and I do feel that's at least part of the deal--I don't think it's the entire reason I'm not writing more. Because I'd stopped writing even before the full-time work kicked in, if you remember.

I have concluded that I am in a cocoon stage right now. I don't know how badly I want to write anymore. I will write, I know that--it's part of who I am. I just don't know that I want to continue pushing for the publication part. It's pretty clear that making a living at writing is a goal that I either will not attain or that might burn me out if I keep pushing for it. But then again, I don't know that for certain, either. And in the end, I think for right now I will decide not to make any decisions. I will go through each day doing all the things that need doing, I will reap my small, quiet rewards where I find them, and I will wait for my current metamorphosis to complete. And when I crawl out of my cocoon... I suspect I will find myself still a caterpillar, just perhaps a slightly different caterpillar. Because these cocoon phases have come and gone a number of times now, and I'm guessing that's just life. Someday a butterfly, but for now I'll content myself with the doze that comes before seeing what color my new stripes will be.

Just to laugh and say hello and say goodbye

I have not been keeping my blog religiously the last few days. The good news is, it's because I've been writing instead. So if my posts here become fewer and shorter, that's actually A Good Thing.

Work has been work. Kids and teachers seem to be settling into the school year routine, so Monday was pretty smooth for me. I have my lesson plan for Thursday pretty much sorted out. And I am looking forward to the upcoming long weekend, when we will have not only a day off but a day off which includes a visit from an awesome out-of-town friend.

Cold is nearly kicked. Weather has taken a milder turn. Dust still hangs over the playground, but I suppose it's better than mud.

I am not a ghost

Friday was something of a blur. By the end of the day, I had added fever and chills to the sore throat and OMGsinuses. I did fit in some more reading. And I am feeling re-energized about the Heimdal story--hopefully my body is back in some semblance of health next week so that I can actually do something about that.

Earlier this week I was talking with a (very dear and sweet and good) friend. I shared with him my feelings about my new job over at the school, which in a nutshell is that the kids are great and the fellow staff people are fine and nice. But I am reminded, once again, as I have been for most of my life, that I am not quite like those other normal people. Or maybe I am, and I simply don't see it. Whatever the case, I have spent most of my life in the "real world" feeling like a misfit, and now is no different than before.

And my (very dear and sweet and good) friend said to me (in paraphrase), "This is going to sound wrong. But I'm glad you don't fit in, because if you did, you wouldn't be the person we know and love. So... Thanks for being different."

I was moved to tears. It was exactly what I needed to hear, exactly when I needed to hear it, and I am grateful for the boost of courage his words have given me.

Go forth and be different.