When Kev and I first started dating, he had a tv in his bedroom, and when we started spending the nights together, I realized that this was pesky. Kev liked to fall asleep listening to White Sox highlights, which was problematic for two reasons:
1) I am a Cubs fan.
2) Falling asleep with the tv on gives me a raging headache when I wake up.
After many negotiations and general grouchiness, we've given away the tv, and switched to sportsradio before bed. I feel this is a good compromise. Kev gets his sports fix, I don't get headaches, and The Score talks about all kinds of Chicago sports, not just the White Sox. Everybody wins.
Last night, a caller called in and made the comment that "White Sox fans are real fans, and most of the people who go to Cubs games treat it like going to a bar where they can get drunk and check out babes." I could make lots of comments here about the general jerkiness about this statement, however it's one that I've heard lots of times- from Kev, from other Sox fans, from other callers on the show. However, the comment also made me start thinking about how you define what it means to be a "real" fan of a team. When I dared to comment on Facebook about my love for Blackhawks hockey during the playoffs this year, my brothers quickly labeled me a "bandwaggoner" despite the fact that I have put in three solid seasons of watching most of the games, sometimes with Kev, sometimes with our rabid hockey friend Colin, and sometimes by myself.
I have thus decided that "real" sports fans are the fans that meet two criteria:
1) A real sports fan can identify AT LEAST 5 current players on the team.
2) A real sports fan has watched/listened to at least 20 minutes of a game their team is playing in by themselves at least one time in their lives.
Real Fans are fans that are interested in what happens to their team every year. Not when their team is good, not when their team sucks, not only when it's trendy. A Real Fan is interested in the team for the love of the game. The Real Fan enjoys going out with a big group to watch a game, but they can also enjoy listening to the game on the radio in the car by themselves on the way home from work, or on their couch covered in cats. They don't base their fandom on who else is interested, or are only interested if they have a cute shirt to wear. They love it for lots of reasons that they have decided make sense for them.
I'm sure Kev is going to give me grief about daring to write about sports. I'm sure my soon to be law student brother would find a million ways to argue with these two simple rules, but I don't care. As far as I'm concerned, if you pass these two categories, you're a real fan of whatever team you pick.
Go Cubs, Blackhawks, Bears....or whatever you like. Just be real.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
Support
It's nice to have a partner that teaches you things in a kind, calm and supportive manner, like today's gchat conversation about our new grill.
me: stupid question...to fill the propane tank do I just pump from the pump into the tank?
Kevin: NO!!!!!!!
you exchange it
for a filled one
me: oh
........ok
Kevin: ha ha ha
me: good thing I asked
Kevin: oh my God
me: well, its not like it comes with instructions
Kevin: I know, but I'm glad you asked
me: you're welcome
me: stupid question...to fill the propane tank do I just pump from the pump into the tank?
Kevin: NO!!!!!!!
you exchange it
for a filled one
me: oh
........ok
Kevin: ha ha ha
me: good thing I asked
Kevin: oh my God
me: well, its not like it comes with instructions
Kevin: I know, but I'm glad you asked
me: you're welcome
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Reuniting
Yesterday, I reunited with some people very dear to my heart, and as I stopped and thought about it, I realized they are related.
For starters, my lil' sister came home from studying in Chile for six months. I'm so proud of her for going somewhere off the beaten path, and also incredibly jealous. I've studied in Mexico and Costa Rica, and I'm also a travel junkie. I get antsy if I don't have a trip planned, and I have a life goal of seeing as much of the world as humanly possible. I have a collector's lust for amassing connections with people and unique experiences from as many different societies as possible. My sis traveled throughout South America during her time there, hitting Argentina, Peru, Bolivia, Uruguay (I think) and the northern desert and Patagonia regions of Chile. She spent the last three weeks of her trip backpacking the Inca trail, and met people from all over the world. While I'm happy for her, I'm also very selfishly jealous. I don't know when (or if) I'm going to get to embed myself in a culture the way that she did again.
As some of you know, I teach ELL at a school with students from many different walks of life. Most of the time I love my job, and I'm fascinated by the diverse set of students and teachers that I work with. I also get to use Spanish every day, something that makes me incredibly happy and allows me to connect with a wide array of parents and students. In fact, last night, after dinner with my sis, I stopped by a local bar and caught the tail end of a summer happy hour (gone way late) with my favorite friends from work.
While we were sitting at the bar, we all started talking about the fact that most of us are now tenured and in grad school. For teachers, this means that many of us have put on the "golden handcuffs"-we're moving up the pay scale, and may be pricing ourselves out of other jobs in other districts. In effect, we've consciously or unconsciously acknowledged the fact that we're all probably going to stay at our school for the foreseeable future. As we talked about this, we all realized we had something in common: none of us, when we took our jobs, thought that we'd stay at our school for more than a year. Not because there's anything WRONG with where we teach, but because we are all (like my sister) travel nuts. We figured we'd spend a year or two in our midwestern district, and then go back out into the world. Many of us considered taking jobs teaching English in foreign countries, and almost all of us have plans to visit another country for an extended summer trip in the near future.
Before I met Kev, conversations like these with my work pals would have sent me into a panic. Committing to a job? Cutting back on my months abroad? Buying a HOME instead of planning a trip? Now, while I might travel less, I have a partner in crime to explore with, whether it's different neighborhoods in my city or different countries on a trip we plan together that has meaning for both of us. While I might not be taking trips that reflect my own selfish goals, traveling with Kev leads us to go places and see sights that I may not have chosen, but that lead me to new and different thoughts. I've learned that part of growing up means expanding your vision of where your future will take you, instead of planning your life through the lens of your own vision.
For starters, my lil' sister came home from studying in Chile for six months. I'm so proud of her for going somewhere off the beaten path, and also incredibly jealous. I've studied in Mexico and Costa Rica, and I'm also a travel junkie. I get antsy if I don't have a trip planned, and I have a life goal of seeing as much of the world as humanly possible. I have a collector's lust for amassing connections with people and unique experiences from as many different societies as possible. My sis traveled throughout South America during her time there, hitting Argentina, Peru, Bolivia, Uruguay (I think) and the northern desert and Patagonia regions of Chile. She spent the last three weeks of her trip backpacking the Inca trail, and met people from all over the world. While I'm happy for her, I'm also very selfishly jealous. I don't know when (or if) I'm going to get to embed myself in a culture the way that she did again.
As some of you know, I teach ELL at a school with students from many different walks of life. Most of the time I love my job, and I'm fascinated by the diverse set of students and teachers that I work with. I also get to use Spanish every day, something that makes me incredibly happy and allows me to connect with a wide array of parents and students. In fact, last night, after dinner with my sis, I stopped by a local bar and caught the tail end of a summer happy hour (gone way late) with my favorite friends from work.
While we were sitting at the bar, we all started talking about the fact that most of us are now tenured and in grad school. For teachers, this means that many of us have put on the "golden handcuffs"-we're moving up the pay scale, and may be pricing ourselves out of other jobs in other districts. In effect, we've consciously or unconsciously acknowledged the fact that we're all probably going to stay at our school for the foreseeable future. As we talked about this, we all realized we had something in common: none of us, when we took our jobs, thought that we'd stay at our school for more than a year. Not because there's anything WRONG with where we teach, but because we are all (like my sister) travel nuts. We figured we'd spend a year or two in our midwestern district, and then go back out into the world. Many of us considered taking jobs teaching English in foreign countries, and almost all of us have plans to visit another country for an extended summer trip in the near future.
Before I met Kev, conversations like these with my work pals would have sent me into a panic. Committing to a job? Cutting back on my months abroad? Buying a HOME instead of planning a trip? Now, while I might travel less, I have a partner in crime to explore with, whether it's different neighborhoods in my city or different countries on a trip we plan together that has meaning for both of us. While I might not be taking trips that reflect my own selfish goals, traveling with Kev leads us to go places and see sights that I may not have chosen, but that lead me to new and different thoughts. I've learned that part of growing up means expanding your vision of where your future will take you, instead of planning your life through the lens of your own vision.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Overscheduled
This morning, Kev set his alarm, got up, and got ready for work. Believe it or not, I actually got up with him to say hello before he set out for his day. If you know me at all, you know that I love to sleep in, and you are shocked. To be fair, I think Kev was too, since I had my rabid lioness morning hair, my glasses, pajamas, and a squint on. I even got out of bed and grabbed some water. More than that, I even had a pleasant chat with him about the Wii tournament starting in his office today and how he better not bring shame on our family name by daring to lose. Why you ask? Because I won't see him for the rest of the day. Or the week.
No, neither one of us is traveling. Somehow, after our relaxing, wonderful, fantastical honeymoon-esque weekend we spent up north at the lake this weekend together, we came home and realized that our weekend is full of plans. Tonight, I'm going to book club and then to see a friend's band play late-night, while Kev stays home and rests up because it's a work night. Tomorrow night I have class and won't be home until 9. Thursday Kev has softball and won't be home until 9ish. The worst part of all of this is that while one of us is out, the other one will be home alone covered in cats. Oops.
I know that weeks like this happen all the time, but for us they usually happen during the school year while I'm working too. I also know that it's not a huge deal, that we will still see each other for a little bit on Wednesday and Thursday evening. There's just a small, irrational part of me that gets nervous when there are a lot of days in a row where we aren't spending any real time together. I used to be Ms. Independent, and now I'm Mrs. No, REALLY, how was your day? I think I get so antsy during weeks like this because it makes me scared that I'm going to miss something important in Kev's life, or that he's not going to "get" something I'm telling him because he wasn't there. I'm neurotic like that. In my heart, I know we're going to be fine, that it's not a huge deal, that it's healthy for us to be separately busy sometimes. In the back of my mind, though, is a little voice nagging at me to get find other moments to make up for it.
Why am I even bothered by this at all? What has happened to me? Has marriage really, *gasp* changed me?
No, neither one of us is traveling. Somehow, after our relaxing, wonderful, fantastical honeymoon-esque weekend we spent up north at the lake this weekend together, we came home and realized that our weekend is full of plans. Tonight, I'm going to book club and then to see a friend's band play late-night, while Kev stays home and rests up because it's a work night. Tomorrow night I have class and won't be home until 9. Thursday Kev has softball and won't be home until 9ish. The worst part of all of this is that while one of us is out, the other one will be home alone covered in cats. Oops.
I know that weeks like this happen all the time, but for us they usually happen during the school year while I'm working too. I also know that it's not a huge deal, that we will still see each other for a little bit on Wednesday and Thursday evening. There's just a small, irrational part of me that gets nervous when there are a lot of days in a row where we aren't spending any real time together. I used to be Ms. Independent, and now I'm Mrs. No, REALLY, how was your day? I think I get so antsy during weeks like this because it makes me scared that I'm going to miss something important in Kev's life, or that he's not going to "get" something I'm telling him because he wasn't there. I'm neurotic like that. In my heart, I know we're going to be fine, that it's not a huge deal, that it's healthy for us to be separately busy sometimes. In the back of my mind, though, is a little voice nagging at me to get find other moments to make up for it.
Why am I even bothered by this at all? What has happened to me? Has marriage really, *gasp* changed me?
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Just a Little Different
I'll be honest, I've never been known to be a super-clean person. Our old place on Roscoe was a pit for a ton of reasons-me being super busy with work and school, the cats shedding profusely, parties that we threw and never really cleaned the way we should have after. The last month that we lived there was the worst-boxes, clothes to donate, and unopened mail everywhere. Kev and I were super busy that month too, trying to pack, going out more than we probably should have, studying like madmen for our finals.
The last few weeks at our new place have brought a big change both in Kev and my habits, and in our relationship as well. Kev has been sort of trying to put his laundry away, and I've been opening my mail as it comes. We've even both been putting daily time into tidying up, and after three weeks, our bedroom still has a floor that you can see. I'm kind of shocked. Since we now own this place, I think we have a greater incentive to keep it looking like a real house, rather than a place that college kids could happily call their own.
Being in the new place also seems to have brought Kev and I closer together. I'm not sure if it's because we've finally achieved a goal that took over so much of our time and sanity for so long, or if it's because we're just settling into married life. We're a little more open and honest about how we're feeling, and since we're pretty broke after the move, we're spending more time cooking or grilling out with friends instead of spending money at crowded bars and snooty restaurants. The tornado pace of the last year, and especially the last 6 months that we've both been in grad school has helped us to prioritize and make the most of the time that we do get to spend together.
This past weekend, Kev and I were talking about this past year, and all the madness that has passed. In one year we got married, started grad school, battled my RA, survived stress at work, and bought a house. Kev turned to me and said he hoped that things would slow down this year, but I somehow think that this is only the beginning.
The last few weeks at our new place have brought a big change both in Kev and my habits, and in our relationship as well. Kev has been sort of trying to put his laundry away, and I've been opening my mail as it comes. We've even both been putting daily time into tidying up, and after three weeks, our bedroom still has a floor that you can see. I'm kind of shocked. Since we now own this place, I think we have a greater incentive to keep it looking like a real house, rather than a place that college kids could happily call their own.
Being in the new place also seems to have brought Kev and I closer together. I'm not sure if it's because we've finally achieved a goal that took over so much of our time and sanity for so long, or if it's because we're just settling into married life. We're a little more open and honest about how we're feeling, and since we're pretty broke after the move, we're spending more time cooking or grilling out with friends instead of spending money at crowded bars and snooty restaurants. The tornado pace of the last year, and especially the last 6 months that we've both been in grad school has helped us to prioritize and make the most of the time that we do get to spend together.
This past weekend, Kev and I were talking about this past year, and all the madness that has passed. In one year we got married, started grad school, battled my RA, survived stress at work, and bought a house. Kev turned to me and said he hoped that things would slow down this year, but I somehow think that this is only the beginning.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
I'm horrid
So, it's been a month since I last blogged which means I've pretty much killed off all 12 readers I had in my extensive membership. Oopsadoodle. I'm getting back on the blog train NOW though, so today's post will have an update of the past few weeks in the life of Colie and Kev. Details are supplied to you with the help of the OTHER love of my life, my trusty dusty planner.
May 31- June 6th: Kev and I spend Memorial Day weekend outside and eating about 32804 hot dogs each, and hold our last porch drinking and grilling on the sidewalk at our old place on Roscoe. Oh, Roscoe...scene of many parties, pettings of puppies, and pranks. Also the place where Kev popped the question to me a week after we moved in. It was also grad school finals week and the beginning of the Hawks being in the Stanley Cup. Kev about keeled over when he realized he was already taking his first finals 10 weeks after he started grad schools. These are the joys of a university with a quarter system. We also find out that the closing date on our fancy new condo has been pushed back indefinitely, due to the condo association not providing updated docs. Freakin A, we are bummed.
June 7th-June 13th: We send out frantic emails to postpone our painting party, as we will have no home to paint. It is also the last week of my school year, and I am plunged into a frenzy of report card finishing, room packing, and glue-stick padlocking to prevent the shady teachers using my room for summer school from stealing all of my glitter glue, markers, and googly eyes I have hidden in my cabinets. Oh, yeah, and the books too....cause I would be almost as upset about that. My work friends and I celebrate the end of the year with a Metra bar crawl (one bar and one beer at every train stop, then run back to the train to get on the next one), and the Hawks win the Stanley Cup at the exact moment I am felled by a sinus infection that leaves my head feeling like it is full of cement.
June 14th-June 20th: Classes start for summer session I. Due to the joys of the quarter system, each summer session is 5 weeks long and moves twice as fast. Kev takes an online class that makes him miserable and forces him to be chained to group conference calls with his strangers, I mean classmates, and I tiptoe around while he completes a giant marketing simulation that sounds complicated. We close on our new place June 14th and spend the last part of the week painting the with my parents. My dad primes and paints our new kitchen entirely on his own, and climbs on top of our refrigerator to do so. I've never seen the man more flexible. Our kitchen is blue, and the living room turns out a strange shade of grayish lavender pink. Whoops. We stagger around and pack, and somehow I manage to do my homework for my two summer classes. I am repeatedly thankful I decided to work on my masters some more instead of teaching summer school, as punk kids inside on a hot day would surely put me over the edge. On Sunday, June 20th, we hire movers (best money I've ever spent) who invade the Roscoe apt and our new place like hispanic worker ants and move us in under 3 hours. The movers discover I speak Spanish, tell me I have a beautiful body, and ask me if my husband is being good to me "en la cama." My sinus infection turns into some kind of goop that invades my lungs and leaves me hacking like a 90 year old pruny smoker, which is triggered often by running up and down the stairs as I move.
June 21-Present: We spend last week doing the 2380432908 chores that come with moving, setting up our new place, emptying our old. The cats move to our new place and alternately sulk around, get lost and cry, or hide behind boxes and attack us as we walk by. I mow through The Girl who Kicked the Hornet's nest, and decide I'm going to write twitter-sized reviews of every book I read from now on. I do about a billion more pounds of homework, since we are now in summer session midterms for session I, and Kev continually laments the amount of stuff we have filled our new place up with. Last weekend, we have a weekend of glory which involves sushi at a byob where I brought and consumed waaaay too much of the B, went to the cubs/sox game and sat 9 rows behind home plate with Kev's dad, went to a birthday party, got sunburned and rowdy at pride, and saw the Stanley Cup at the parade. This week, I'm going to try to finish unpacking and detox after last weekend's mayhem. I'm also still coughing and need a new planner. Sigh....
So, as you can see folks, I might have been a teensy bit busy, but I'm back. You can all sleep soundly tonight knowing I'm back, and if you are lucky, I'll even post some pics of our new place, and my awesome pics of Lord Stanley's cup at Pride. Also, I just realized our ONE YEAR WEDDING ANNIVERSARY is Sunday....holy crap, people. Holy crap.
May 31- June 6th: Kev and I spend Memorial Day weekend outside and eating about 32804 hot dogs each, and hold our last porch drinking and grilling on the sidewalk at our old place on Roscoe. Oh, Roscoe...scene of many parties, pettings of puppies, and pranks. Also the place where Kev popped the question to me a week after we moved in. It was also grad school finals week and the beginning of the Hawks being in the Stanley Cup. Kev about keeled over when he realized he was already taking his first finals 10 weeks after he started grad schools. These are the joys of a university with a quarter system. We also find out that the closing date on our fancy new condo has been pushed back indefinitely, due to the condo association not providing updated docs. Freakin A, we are bummed.
June 7th-June 13th: We send out frantic emails to postpone our painting party, as we will have no home to paint. It is also the last week of my school year, and I am plunged into a frenzy of report card finishing, room packing, and glue-stick padlocking to prevent the shady teachers using my room for summer school from stealing all of my glitter glue, markers, and googly eyes I have hidden in my cabinets. Oh, yeah, and the books too....cause I would be almost as upset about that. My work friends and I celebrate the end of the year with a Metra bar crawl (one bar and one beer at every train stop, then run back to the train to get on the next one), and the Hawks win the Stanley Cup at the exact moment I am felled by a sinus infection that leaves my head feeling like it is full of cement.
June 14th-June 20th: Classes start for summer session I. Due to the joys of the quarter system, each summer session is 5 weeks long and moves twice as fast. Kev takes an online class that makes him miserable and forces him to be chained to group conference calls with his strangers, I mean classmates, and I tiptoe around while he completes a giant marketing simulation that sounds complicated. We close on our new place June 14th and spend the last part of the week painting the with my parents. My dad primes and paints our new kitchen entirely on his own, and climbs on top of our refrigerator to do so. I've never seen the man more flexible. Our kitchen is blue, and the living room turns out a strange shade of grayish lavender pink. Whoops. We stagger around and pack, and somehow I manage to do my homework for my two summer classes. I am repeatedly thankful I decided to work on my masters some more instead of teaching summer school, as punk kids inside on a hot day would surely put me over the edge. On Sunday, June 20th, we hire movers (best money I've ever spent) who invade the Roscoe apt and our new place like hispanic worker ants and move us in under 3 hours. The movers discover I speak Spanish, tell me I have a beautiful body, and ask me if my husband is being good to me "en la cama." My sinus infection turns into some kind of goop that invades my lungs and leaves me hacking like a 90 year old pruny smoker, which is triggered often by running up and down the stairs as I move.
June 21-Present: We spend last week doing the 2380432908 chores that come with moving, setting up our new place, emptying our old. The cats move to our new place and alternately sulk around, get lost and cry, or hide behind boxes and attack us as we walk by. I mow through The Girl who Kicked the Hornet's nest, and decide I'm going to write twitter-sized reviews of every book I read from now on. I do about a billion more pounds of homework, since we are now in summer session midterms for session I, and Kev continually laments the amount of stuff we have filled our new place up with. Last weekend, we have a weekend of glory which involves sushi at a byob where I brought and consumed waaaay too much of the B, went to the cubs/sox game and sat 9 rows behind home plate with Kev's dad, went to a birthday party, got sunburned and rowdy at pride, and saw the Stanley Cup at the parade. This week, I'm going to try to finish unpacking and detox after last weekend's mayhem. I'm also still coughing and need a new planner. Sigh....
So, as you can see folks, I might have been a teensy bit busy, but I'm back. You can all sleep soundly tonight knowing I'm back, and if you are lucky, I'll even post some pics of our new place, and my awesome pics of Lord Stanley's cup at Pride. Also, I just realized our ONE YEAR WEDDING ANNIVERSARY is Sunday....holy crap, people. Holy crap.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Simple Questions
On Monday, I went out to lunch with a good friend of mine, who in the past few weeks has started dating another very good friend of mine. We all hang out in the same group, and a lot of things in their situation reminds me of how Kev and I got together. I was asking her about how things were going, and she responded. We chatted for a bit, then she asked me something that really caught me off guard.
"How are things with Kevin?"
Things with Kevin are great. He makes me happier than anybody, and, despite a lot of madness in our lives this year, I've never for one second doubted that we should be married or that I love him more than anything else. I realized, though, that none of my girl friends had ASKED me about him in a really, really long time. It felt really, really, good to have some girl chats about how big of a crush I still have on him.
Why is that? Since we've gotten married, nobody has asked me anything about my boy. Sure, people ask how he's doing, what plans we have, how things are going with grad school or the condo. All of those things are fine, but nobody asks for the real dirt. It's almost like people are afraid to ask, or just not interested. If I've learned one thing about being married so far, it's that doing it doesn't solve everything or automatically imply happiness. Our marriage is about choosing to be happy, finding ways to continue to show each other that we're interested in dating them, even though we know we've signed up for being eachother's plus one at every event from here on out. I still get excited about finding the perfect weekend plans for us. I still put thought into what I wear and enjoy pondering new ways to surprise him. Just because you get married, the dating part doesn't stop. I miss being able to tell my girls about something he said that puzzles me, or about some way he surprised me.
When you're in a new relationship, people get excited to hear about the details, and when you're really happy, you want to share some things. However, it seems like getting married has put an invisible veil between me and some of my girl friends. Now, when I dish about something fantastic that we did, people roll their eyes. They say "well you're married, of course you went on an awesome date or wore the sundress he likes best on you for no reason at all." It's not true, though. Living together, making decisions together, can kill the excitement, and cause a real potential for things to be not fine. And when they aren't, well, that's when you sit and wish someone would give you the opening to talk about your struggles. Just as when you're happy, you wish you could share that without sounding like you're bragging.
I was so, so, relieved my friend asked me about how things are going. Not because they are going horrible, but because I'm so happy. Sometimes I need to talk about how things are to remind myself about how great I have it. Friends, if you're reading this, don't be afraid to ask. Don't assume that just because we're married we are different and somehow untouchable and don't have good dirt to share about life. We're married, we're not different. Don't forget to ask.
"How are things with Kevin?"
Things with Kevin are great. He makes me happier than anybody, and, despite a lot of madness in our lives this year, I've never for one second doubted that we should be married or that I love him more than anything else. I realized, though, that none of my girl friends had ASKED me about him in a really, really long time. It felt really, really, good to have some girl chats about how big of a crush I still have on him.
Why is that? Since we've gotten married, nobody has asked me anything about my boy. Sure, people ask how he's doing, what plans we have, how things are going with grad school or the condo. All of those things are fine, but nobody asks for the real dirt. It's almost like people are afraid to ask, or just not interested. If I've learned one thing about being married so far, it's that doing it doesn't solve everything or automatically imply happiness. Our marriage is about choosing to be happy, finding ways to continue to show each other that we're interested in dating them, even though we know we've signed up for being eachother's plus one at every event from here on out. I still get excited about finding the perfect weekend plans for us. I still put thought into what I wear and enjoy pondering new ways to surprise him. Just because you get married, the dating part doesn't stop. I miss being able to tell my girls about something he said that puzzles me, or about some way he surprised me.
When you're in a new relationship, people get excited to hear about the details, and when you're really happy, you want to share some things. However, it seems like getting married has put an invisible veil between me and some of my girl friends. Now, when I dish about something fantastic that we did, people roll their eyes. They say "well you're married, of course you went on an awesome date or wore the sundress he likes best on you for no reason at all." It's not true, though. Living together, making decisions together, can kill the excitement, and cause a real potential for things to be not fine. And when they aren't, well, that's when you sit and wish someone would give you the opening to talk about your struggles. Just as when you're happy, you wish you could share that without sounding like you're bragging.
I was so, so, relieved my friend asked me about how things are going. Not because they are going horrible, but because I'm so happy. Sometimes I need to talk about how things are to remind myself about how great I have it. Friends, if you're reading this, don't be afraid to ask. Don't assume that just because we're married we are different and somehow untouchable and don't have good dirt to share about life. We're married, we're not different. Don't forget to ask.
Friday, May 21, 2010
A Little Problem
I almost got divorced this morning. Seriously, it was bad. In the process, I think I lost a lot of wife points, and am now plotting smart hockey things to say while feeding Kevin Beam-and-7ups when I see him this evening. I am in that much trouble. Yipes.
One of the fundamental problems in Kevin's and my relationship is our opposite approaches to the mornings. Kevin leaps out of bed, happy and well rested, and tackles 7 projects at once. He chats with the cats, tries to chat with me, and whistles a happy song as he thoughtfully chooses the appropriate attire to wear for the day.
Me? Not so much. I cannot emphasize enough how much I hate mornings. I am a total beast to deal with, and after hitting the snooze button as many times as humanly possible, I stagger out of bed, rifle through piles of clothes until I find the easiest thing to wear, and stumble around blindly, muttering about how miserable I am. I'm like the hunchback of Notre Dame and Medusa combined. It's simply awful. It's also a good thing I live so far from my work and have to leave earlier than Kev on weekdays, because I need a good hour of silence and staggering before I'm able to morph back into my usual awkward and giggly self.
In the past, we've had several discussions about the use of the snooze alarm. Kevin uses it maybe one time if he stayed up a little to late the night before. It's an emergency situation only tool. I, on the other hand, consider every time I have to wake up to an alarm clock an emergency, and accordingly hit the snooze at least four times. There's just one little problem-the alarm clock is on Kevin's side of the bed, and he's a big guy. I can't hit the alarm without him waking up. He is less than pleased with the whole arrangement, to say the least.
This morning, the alarm went off, and I drowsily asked Kevin what time it was.
"5:50," he replied, "Time for you to get up."
"WHAT?!" I responded.
"Yeah," he said. "I thought I would just set the alarm later to let you sleep longer since you've been so tired lately."
Now, I realize that in theory it sounds like a kind and thoughtful thing for Kevin to do. Knowing I've been super busy and exhausted, he thought an extra 20 minutes of uninterrupted sleep would give me a little boost- a chance to let my batteries re-charge a little longer, and attack the morning a bit more happily.
What Kev failed to take into account is that I am physically incapable of exiting the bed without a little doze. So, I asked him to hit the snooze KNOWING I had to get up right that second, which meant I did not get out of bed until 6. I have to leave the house at 6:25 to make the train ride up to my school. What followed was a prime example of bad behavior on my part. I stumbled, I cursed, I ranted, I raved, I even yelled at the cats for moving my shoes in the middle of the night. I left the house feeling panicked, and barely made the train. Worst of all, Kevin woke up after my fifth stage-whisper of a terrible curse word, and got out of bed to help me find my shoes, school's t-shirt, and lunch. I am officially a horrible person.
Marital Lessons Learned:
1) I should have the alarm clock on my side of the bed.
2) I should never be allowed to speak before 8 a.m.
3) The only thing that allows me to survive the mornings is my routine. I do not handle disruptions well.
4) Surprises are not meant for mornings.
Wish me luck as I attempt to smooth this all over. Maybe I should buy Kev some nachos, as well.....
One of the fundamental problems in Kevin's and my relationship is our opposite approaches to the mornings. Kevin leaps out of bed, happy and well rested, and tackles 7 projects at once. He chats with the cats, tries to chat with me, and whistles a happy song as he thoughtfully chooses the appropriate attire to wear for the day.
Me? Not so much. I cannot emphasize enough how much I hate mornings. I am a total beast to deal with, and after hitting the snooze button as many times as humanly possible, I stagger out of bed, rifle through piles of clothes until I find the easiest thing to wear, and stumble around blindly, muttering about how miserable I am. I'm like the hunchback of Notre Dame and Medusa combined. It's simply awful. It's also a good thing I live so far from my work and have to leave earlier than Kev on weekdays, because I need a good hour of silence and staggering before I'm able to morph back into my usual awkward and giggly self.
In the past, we've had several discussions about the use of the snooze alarm. Kevin uses it maybe one time if he stayed up a little to late the night before. It's an emergency situation only tool. I, on the other hand, consider every time I have to wake up to an alarm clock an emergency, and accordingly hit the snooze at least four times. There's just one little problem-the alarm clock is on Kevin's side of the bed, and he's a big guy. I can't hit the alarm without him waking up. He is less than pleased with the whole arrangement, to say the least.
This morning, the alarm went off, and I drowsily asked Kevin what time it was.
"5:50," he replied, "Time for you to get up."
"WHAT?!" I responded.
"Yeah," he said. "I thought I would just set the alarm later to let you sleep longer since you've been so tired lately."
Now, I realize that in theory it sounds like a kind and thoughtful thing for Kevin to do. Knowing I've been super busy and exhausted, he thought an extra 20 minutes of uninterrupted sleep would give me a little boost- a chance to let my batteries re-charge a little longer, and attack the morning a bit more happily.
What Kev failed to take into account is that I am physically incapable of exiting the bed without a little doze. So, I asked him to hit the snooze KNOWING I had to get up right that second, which meant I did not get out of bed until 6. I have to leave the house at 6:25 to make the train ride up to my school. What followed was a prime example of bad behavior on my part. I stumbled, I cursed, I ranted, I raved, I even yelled at the cats for moving my shoes in the middle of the night. I left the house feeling panicked, and barely made the train. Worst of all, Kevin woke up after my fifth stage-whisper of a terrible curse word, and got out of bed to help me find my shoes, school's t-shirt, and lunch. I am officially a horrible person.
Marital Lessons Learned:
1) I should have the alarm clock on my side of the bed.
2) I should never be allowed to speak before 8 a.m.
3) The only thing that allows me to survive the mornings is my routine. I do not handle disruptions well.
4) Surprises are not meant for mornings.
Wish me luck as I attempt to smooth this all over. Maybe I should buy Kev some nachos, as well.....
Friday, May 14, 2010
Reasons I Love My Job
Sorry for the delay in blogging, folks. The past few weeks have been jam packed with grad school fun, getting organized for the end of the year at work, and trying to maintain my marriage, sanity and health in between.
However, I feel like I'm slowly coming out of a fog, and I have something delightful to post to you about- kindergarteners.
For the past few years, I had taught second and third grades, and the move to kindergarten was unrequested. At first I was really nervous about being able to teach them well, about trying to help them learn and grow and become decent human beings that wouldn't cry all the time or wet their pants a lot. For the most part, I've been somewhat successful, and I've really been surprised by how much I've enjoyed my lil' peanuts this year. Now that we are mostly reading and writing, I'm so impressed by how much they've learned in nine short months. I've also discovered another use for them.
You see, a few months ago, I had a friend named Katie who was going through a rough time. I also had a mail project to teach, and we needed to practice writing letters. So, I had my kiddos write Katie some letters to make her feel better. They sent her advice such as "Don't forget to take your dog for a walk," "We can share your toys together," and "I hope you feel better and more smiley." The letters have since been passed around to our group of friends, and have become legendary. Last weekend, my friends and I started planning a beginning of summer outdoor dinner party for 20, and I decided that rather than writing out invitations myself, I should once again put my kids to good use and have them write the invites.
Today, I spent some time with my kids asking them to help me. I told them I needed good writers and good helpers to create some invitations for a party, because Chef Colin would be too busy cooking to make sure people could come. I put the pertinent information on the board, and told them they needed to make sure all of the words were on their paper, and to add some decorations that would really make people want to come to a party.
Some of us really understood the directions and made Hallmark worthy notes, while others got carried away with the decorating and fanciness of it all. Still others seem to have missed the boat all together. I'll let you decide which are which. Hopefully, you will have equally festive and delicious parties in your future this weekend. Happy Friday!
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Backing Away from the Ledge
Kevin and I have been zombies lately, due to a potent cocktail mix of grad school, first time homebuying, and our usual crazy lives. After figuring out some financing, we are 6 weeks away from being homeowners.
The whole process has really been the first step in our 291 day old marriage, and I'm proud to say that despite some setbacks, we've come through it stronger. I'm a fiercely independent, opinionated and stubborn person, and it has taken some work to accept the fact that I'm going to have to lean on my husband for some things in order to make the best decisions possible for both of us. For example, today we were discussing the amount of the loan our parents have so generously offered us to help us with our down payment. After reiterating about 822938 times that I'm not comfortable borrowing from my parents without a strict repayment plan in place, Kev reminded me that A) this is the only way we can come up with the 7% down payment we need to buy our now non-FHA finance-able dream home, B) he has done the math one trillion times, and has remembered to budget date nights, going out with friends, and my target shopping sprees into the monthly mix each and every time and C) that I really should just stop bugging him about the numbers because he is a numbers guy and does these types of things every day for a career. A career that he has been successful at for many years, and that pays him the money to buy the condo to build our life in so that I can continue to pester him for many happy years to come.
Point taken. One of the interesting dynamics in our relationship is that we have many opposite qualities. I tend to be flighty, Kevin's neurotic. I'm creative, Kevin reins me in. I come up with about 487 life plans for us every day, Kevin reminds me that we need to eat dinner and take things one step at a time. Sometimes I worry I am going to drive him crazy with my incessant impatience for the next BIG EVENT. What I'm learning though, is that we can use these dualities to meet somewhere in the middle, to make a cozy happy life full of Glee singalongs, book chats, floor hockey feistiness, and gawking at other people's cute dogs. It's like the Black Eyed Peas say- we just have to meet halfway. (I know I'm going to get made fun of for that quote- I don't care though. Love them.) It turns out that these things that I used to think would drive us apart are now making us into what every good marriage should be- a team.
The whole process has really been the first step in our 291 day old marriage, and I'm proud to say that despite some setbacks, we've come through it stronger. I'm a fiercely independent, opinionated and stubborn person, and it has taken some work to accept the fact that I'm going to have to lean on my husband for some things in order to make the best decisions possible for both of us. For example, today we were discussing the amount of the loan our parents have so generously offered us to help us with our down payment. After reiterating about 822938 times that I'm not comfortable borrowing from my parents without a strict repayment plan in place, Kev reminded me that A) this is the only way we can come up with the 7% down payment we need to buy our now non-FHA finance-able dream home, B) he has done the math one trillion times, and has remembered to budget date nights, going out with friends, and my target shopping sprees into the monthly mix each and every time and C) that I really should just stop bugging him about the numbers because he is a numbers guy and does these types of things every day for a career. A career that he has been successful at for many years, and that pays him the money to buy the condo to build our life in so that I can continue to pester him for many happy years to come.
Point taken. One of the interesting dynamics in our relationship is that we have many opposite qualities. I tend to be flighty, Kevin's neurotic. I'm creative, Kevin reins me in. I come up with about 487 life plans for us every day, Kevin reminds me that we need to eat dinner and take things one step at a time. Sometimes I worry I am going to drive him crazy with my incessant impatience for the next BIG EVENT. What I'm learning though, is that we can use these dualities to meet somewhere in the middle, to make a cozy happy life full of Glee singalongs, book chats, floor hockey feistiness, and gawking at other people's cute dogs. It's like the Black Eyed Peas say- we just have to meet halfway. (I know I'm going to get made fun of for that quote- I don't care though. Love them.) It turns out that these things that I used to think would drive us apart are now making us into what every good marriage should be- a team.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Silver Lining
I haven't posted in a while, because things these days have turned out trickier than I previously thought. While we thought we had a condo, with accepted offer all set, it turns out that the condo didn't get FHA approved, which has made it more difficult for us to get financing. The eternal debate of "Should we buy or should we rent?" has been playing out in my mind for so long, it's become an old friend. Times are stressful. In the past week, while all of this has been going on, however, I've found that several things in my life that usually stress me out have brought unexpected joy to my life. Things are sneaky like that. So, to preserve my sanity, I am going to sort out my thoughts about some big topics in my life lately.
Grad School: Yes, I am still on track to graduate in under two years, and yes, I still have to leave work with the students two nights a week to make it to campus, but I've found that while I'm in class, I can just focus on the topics and discussions at hand instead of worrying about where we will live and our future finances. Doing my homework is currently becoming an escape from the endless pro-con list I am keeping. Better yet, I feel more productive, and I'm procrastinating less. I expect this phase to end abruptly once something more exciting comes into my life (37 school days left in my year!) but I'll also enjoy this dedicated student honeymoon while it lasts. Better yet, one of my classes is a children's literature course, so I have an excuse to retreat into my happy place, reading, for a good cause.
Budget: I never thought I would say this, because most things financial stress me out. Usually, I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing financially, and I tend to go through periods where I spend a lot of money (when stressed) and periods where I'm very frugal (when I'm not stressed about life, but stressed about money). Trying to buy a condo has forced Kev and I to take a cold, hard look at our finances. We've created a budget that we share and type things we buy into the various categories. (Love you, Google Docs). Seeing a plan in place makes me feel more confident that we can really do this, should the opportunity arise, and it's had the added bonus of forcing Kevin and I to make some healthy lifestyle choices. We're spending a lot less time and money at bars with our friends, and we've been saving the times we eat out for nights when we can splurge just for the two of us. In the past, Kev and I haven't always been very good at making time just for us, and sometimes I feel like I'm still in the 14 year old phase of only-going-on-dates-when-we-can-go-in-a-big-coupley-group-so-mom-and-dad-don't-find-out. By trying to save money, we've cut down on that and have spent some great time together.
Tackling this house issue has been the first big stressor our brand new marriage has faced, and I'm proud to say that we're doing well. I'm so glad I have someone on my side who understands just how stressful and crappy a lot of this process is, and I'm glad to know that when I pass on going out because it's too expensive, that I have a partner in crime to stay in with. I still don't know where this is all going to go, or where we'll be come June 1st, but I think I will be okay knowing that I will have some kind of home to share with my some kind of wonderful husband.
Awww.....
Grad School: Yes, I am still on track to graduate in under two years, and yes, I still have to leave work with the students two nights a week to make it to campus, but I've found that while I'm in class, I can just focus on the topics and discussions at hand instead of worrying about where we will live and our future finances. Doing my homework is currently becoming an escape from the endless pro-con list I am keeping. Better yet, I feel more productive, and I'm procrastinating less. I expect this phase to end abruptly once something more exciting comes into my life (37 school days left in my year!) but I'll also enjoy this dedicated student honeymoon while it lasts. Better yet, one of my classes is a children's literature course, so I have an excuse to retreat into my happy place, reading, for a good cause.
Budget: I never thought I would say this, because most things financial stress me out. Usually, I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing financially, and I tend to go through periods where I spend a lot of money (when stressed) and periods where I'm very frugal (when I'm not stressed about life, but stressed about money). Trying to buy a condo has forced Kev and I to take a cold, hard look at our finances. We've created a budget that we share and type things we buy into the various categories. (Love you, Google Docs). Seeing a plan in place makes me feel more confident that we can really do this, should the opportunity arise, and it's had the added bonus of forcing Kevin and I to make some healthy lifestyle choices. We're spending a lot less time and money at bars with our friends, and we've been saving the times we eat out for nights when we can splurge just for the two of us. In the past, Kev and I haven't always been very good at making time just for us, and sometimes I feel like I'm still in the 14 year old phase of only-going-on-dates-when-we-can-go-in-a-big-coupley-group-so-mom-and-dad-don't-find-out. By trying to save money, we've cut down on that and have spent some great time together.
Tackling this house issue has been the first big stressor our brand new marriage has faced, and I'm proud to say that we're doing well. I'm so glad I have someone on my side who understands just how stressful and crappy a lot of this process is, and I'm glad to know that when I pass on going out because it's too expensive, that I have a partner in crime to stay in with. I still don't know where this is all going to go, or where we'll be come June 1st, but I think I will be okay knowing that I will have some kind of home to share with my some kind of wonderful husband.
Awww.....
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Whoa!
As I've mentioned before, we've been looking to become first time homebuyers, and we're getting pretty close to moving into a new, big kid place. I don't want to write too much about said place, for fear that I will jinx it, except to say that it is conveniently located by awesome public transit, it's still close to our family and friends, and it has a kitchen and dining room that will be awesome for our dinner parties. However, there is one truly amazing thing about our new place, and that is Sven.
Our lovely realtor, Kevin and I have visited the condo complex several times, looking at various units, weighing the pros and cons, and trying to figure out what the best for us will be. Each time we visit, we pass through a gorgeous front courtyard, where we are immediately shadowed by a small black cat. He has white paws, a dapper red collar, a perpetual scowl, and quiet feet that stalk us up multiple floors, across decks, and underneath trees. The first time we visited, he followed us to the front door of a building, then quickly darted around the side of the home, only to be waiting on the deck of the THIRD STORY UNIT when I opened the back door. Every time we visit, the cat is there waiting. He's like our home buying conscience, and he may be the fastest cat I've ever seen in North America.
When we returned to the complex a few weeks later for our second showings, the cat was waiting. At this point, I grew a bit concerned and checked the kitty's collar. It read
SVEN-OUTDOOR CAT- _____ ADDRESSS- DO NOT CALL OWNER IF FOUND NEAR HOME
I have a lot of questions for Sven. Does his owner just let him out each morning as he leaves for work? What does Sven do all day? Does he go back home when he is hungry? Does he have a cat door? Does he worry about getting hurt- we live in a big city! How far from home has he ventured? Will he taunt our cats when we move in? I'm utterly mystified as to how he became an outdoor cat in one of the biggest cities in the world, and I plan on stalking HIM once I move into his hood. Watch out, Sven. The tables are about to be turned.
Our lovely realtor, Kevin and I have visited the condo complex several times, looking at various units, weighing the pros and cons, and trying to figure out what the best for us will be. Each time we visit, we pass through a gorgeous front courtyard, where we are immediately shadowed by a small black cat. He has white paws, a dapper red collar, a perpetual scowl, and quiet feet that stalk us up multiple floors, across decks, and underneath trees. The first time we visited, he followed us to the front door of a building, then quickly darted around the side of the home, only to be waiting on the deck of the THIRD STORY UNIT when I opened the back door. Every time we visit, the cat is there waiting. He's like our home buying conscience, and he may be the fastest cat I've ever seen in North America.
When we returned to the complex a few weeks later for our second showings, the cat was waiting. At this point, I grew a bit concerned and checked the kitty's collar. It read
SVEN-OUTDOOR CAT- _____ ADDRESSS- DO NOT CALL OWNER IF FOUND NEAR HOME
I have a lot of questions for Sven. Does his owner just let him out each morning as he leaves for work? What does Sven do all day? Does he go back home when he is hungry? Does he have a cat door? Does he worry about getting hurt- we live in a big city! How far from home has he ventured? Will he taunt our cats when we move in? I'm utterly mystified as to how he became an outdoor cat in one of the biggest cities in the world, and I plan on stalking HIM once I move into his hood. Watch out, Sven. The tables are about to be turned.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Music Night
Today is a big day in the land of kindergarten. We have our very first music night, and the kiddos couldn't be more thrilled about it. In fact, we've already had a great day, since my parents (a doctor and a nurse) came and visited us for Community Helpers week, and even gave them band-aids and pencils. Kids at this age are all about two things: official looking outfits, and the swag that they can get from people wearing them. Needless to say, the visit was a success, due in part to my mom bringing x-rays from work of a kid who swallowed a penny. I think I've safely scared them all into only putting food in their mouths.
Something about today inspires a post about my job, I'm not sure why. Perhaps, since I teach in a state where budget cuts are a real and terrifying thing, it is another reason to be thankful for the job I do have. I think it goes beyond that, though. Seeing all the kids in their best black and white outfits, nervously hopping around antsy-pantsy as they wait for the big performance always makes me smile. I love them all the more for being tone deaf, for making up their own lyrics, for biffing a dance move here or there. Even though they try so hard to be self-important mini-adults, the music night always shows them for what they are-kids. Little kids, one of whom will probably fall off the bleachers. It also shows me for what I am- a person who likes to fix things and pick them back up.
Spring break is coming, and I would be lying immensely if I said that I wasn't pining for it to come soon. While I look forward to a week of wearing sweats, going for runs, reading for large portions of the day, and indulging in an adult beverage or two at an inappropriate time of day, I'll also think about my lil' peanuts, and hope that they are getting into just the right amount of trouble with a fantastic partner in crime while we're off.
Something about today inspires a post about my job, I'm not sure why. Perhaps, since I teach in a state where budget cuts are a real and terrifying thing, it is another reason to be thankful for the job I do have. I think it goes beyond that, though. Seeing all the kids in their best black and white outfits, nervously hopping around antsy-pantsy as they wait for the big performance always makes me smile. I love them all the more for being tone deaf, for making up their own lyrics, for biffing a dance move here or there. Even though they try so hard to be self-important mini-adults, the music night always shows them for what they are-kids. Little kids, one of whom will probably fall off the bleachers. It also shows me for what I am- a person who likes to fix things and pick them back up.
Spring break is coming, and I would be lying immensely if I said that I wasn't pining for it to come soon. While I look forward to a week of wearing sweats, going for runs, reading for large portions of the day, and indulging in an adult beverage or two at an inappropriate time of day, I'll also think about my lil' peanuts, and hope that they are getting into just the right amount of trouble with a fantastic partner in crime while we're off.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Married Fight (or She Married a Weirdo)
(Yes I know it's been forever since I've blogged, as Colie "subtly" hinted)
So we've been married for a while now, but there is one thing that we fight about all the time. It's one of those topics that people cannot fathom why we fight about it, but it's something that I am always on the short-end of! And what could drive to fight this every time, and get me to write about it? Well....it's yogurt.
See, Colie and I grocery shop together most of the time and we agree on 99% of the things to buy for the house. We both love to cook, so we end up at grocery stores fairly often. We tend grab a few things from Whole Foods if we want to make something that night, or head up to local Mexican grocery store when we really want to make some amazing stuff (or just get produce that's 5x better than anything else but 33% of the cost). Our "big" grocery runs where we load up for a few weeks is done at Jewel, and that's where we buy our yogurt.
Here's the thing, we will usually buy 10-14 individual servings of yogurt and both will take them for lunch most days. But even buying that many, I always am the one that gets stuck running out of flavors that I like while Colie still has 3-4 cups! Here's why: I like really "boring "yogurt flavors: strawberry, blackberry, raspberry, cherry. I don't like all the "fancy" flavors that try to make things taste like cake or pie (I don't think they taste anything like them at all). But guess who does!
So here's what usually happens - I'll buy my 5 "boring" flavor (I put boring in quotes because I don't think they are actually boring but I'm also told I'm weird) and Colie will buy 1 or 2 "boring" flavors but then buy the bizarre 'Key Lime Pie' or 'Strawberry Shortcake' and those things. The type that the one really annoying commercial highlights when the woman's on the phone with her friend and she's all, "OMG, I had triple-chocolate cake and key-lime pie and blah, blah, blah." and her husbands this mope looking through their fridge that has like 250 things of yogurt in it.
Man that's a tangent...
Anyways, so the morning, Colie gets up before me and will pack her lunch and she will just randomly grab a yogurt because she likes all of them and doesn't care which flavor she gets! So she has a 100% chance of picking something she will like. This isn't a big deal the first few days, but after a few days, I can tell that she is still picking at random! So in like 4 days, I'm stuck having to pick between two flavors I hate because she took the last Strawberry!! And trust me, I've brought this up, and we've discussed it ad naseum, but I know that in the morning a truck could crash through the front window and Colie would probably walk past without acknowledging it.
So we've been married for a while now, but there is one thing that we fight about all the time. It's one of those topics that people cannot fathom why we fight about it, but it's something that I am always on the short-end of! And what could drive to fight this every time, and get me to write about it? Well....it's yogurt.
See, Colie and I grocery shop together most of the time and we agree on 99% of the things to buy for the house. We both love to cook, so we end up at grocery stores fairly often. We tend grab a few things from Whole Foods if we want to make something that night, or head up to local Mexican grocery store when we really want to make some amazing stuff (or just get produce that's 5x better than anything else but 33% of the cost). Our "big" grocery runs where we load up for a few weeks is done at Jewel, and that's where we buy our yogurt.
Here's the thing, we will usually buy 10-14 individual servings of yogurt and both will take them for lunch most days. But even buying that many, I always am the one that gets stuck running out of flavors that I like while Colie still has 3-4 cups! Here's why: I like really "boring "yogurt flavors: strawberry, blackberry, raspberry, cherry. I don't like all the "fancy" flavors that try to make things taste like cake or pie (I don't think they taste anything like them at all). But guess who does!
So here's what usually happens - I'll buy my 5 "boring" flavor (I put boring in quotes because I don't think they are actually boring but I'm also told I'm weird) and Colie will buy 1 or 2 "boring" flavors but then buy the bizarre 'Key Lime Pie' or 'Strawberry Shortcake' and those things. The type that the one really annoying commercial highlights when the woman's on the phone with her friend and she's all, "OMG, I had triple-chocolate cake and key-lime pie and blah, blah, blah." and her husbands this mope looking through their fridge that has like 250 things of yogurt in it.
Man that's a tangent...
Anyways, so the morning, Colie gets up before me and will pack her lunch and she will just randomly grab a yogurt because she likes all of them and doesn't care which flavor she gets! So she has a 100% chance of picking something she will like. This isn't a big deal the first few days, but after a few days, I can tell that she is still picking at random! So in like 4 days, I'm stuck having to pick between two flavors I hate because she took the last Strawberry!! And trust me, I've brought this up, and we've discussed it ad naseum, but I know that in the morning a truck could crash through the front window and Colie would probably walk past without acknowledging it.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Best Ever
I'm not going to lie, I'm pretty sure I have the best job ever. I work at a big elementary school, and many of the families that my students come from can use a helping hand or two, so I feel like I make a difference every day. Also, teaching kindergarten this year has really let me hear some hilariously quotable quotes such as:
S: "my favorite country is Natalie."
Me: "Where is that?"
S: "You know, next to Scotland."
J: "Do you have kids yet?"
Me: "No, I have all of you!"
J: "Well, don't worry. Jesus will send them to you when you look ready."
But today's events really took the cake. You see, at our school, a class gets chosen every week to lead the pledge on morning announcements. The kids all get to introduce themselves, say the pledge in English and Spanish, and watch our principal make the rest of the announcements into the special microphone. This week is our class's turn. Because I don't have an assistant, I had to send four of my kiddos down to the office, and called the secretary to let her know they were on their way. After a few minutes, she called back and said that they hadn't arrived, but that she would check on them.
Where did she find them? Outside. While this is mildly terrifying in and of itself, in context it is quite funny.
She found them saluting the flag with military precision, in a straight line, slowly enunciating each word, and saying the pledge. To the flag of the United States of America.
Apparently kids really are literal thinkers.
S: "my favorite country is Natalie."
Me: "Where is that?"
S: "You know, next to Scotland."
J: "Do you have kids yet?"
Me: "No, I have all of you!"
J: "Well, don't worry. Jesus will send them to you when you look ready."
But today's events really took the cake. You see, at our school, a class gets chosen every week to lead the pledge on morning announcements. The kids all get to introduce themselves, say the pledge in English and Spanish, and watch our principal make the rest of the announcements into the special microphone. This week is our class's turn. Because I don't have an assistant, I had to send four of my kiddos down to the office, and called the secretary to let her know they were on their way. After a few minutes, she called back and said that they hadn't arrived, but that she would check on them.
Where did she find them? Outside. While this is mildly terrifying in and of itself, in context it is quite funny.
She found them saluting the flag with military precision, in a straight line, slowly enunciating each word, and saying the pledge. To the flag of the United States of America.
Apparently kids really are literal thinkers.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Crash and Burn
March started a few months ago, and with it came the start of my running season. You see, unlike my friend Maria, who trained for and ran races pretty much year-round when she lived in Chicago, I have strict rules about running. It should be done when there is no ice on the ground. It should be done with as few layers on as possible. It should be done with two ultimate goals in mind: 1) to improve slightly time-wise and 2) to look good in a bikini. Since I live in Chicago, this makes my running season from March-October.
So, on March 1st, I laced up my shoes, dusted off my Nike +, and headed out to run before my book club. (We read The Glass Castle, in case you are interested) I battled out a few miles, noted how jiggly I felt during the whole process, and then saw my friend Lindsay's apartment in the distance and realized how invigorated I would feel when I was done.
Boy, was I wrong.
Ten feet from Lindsay's door, I skidded on a patch of ice and ate it. I'm not talking about a little stumble here, people. This was a full-fledged, fall down, skid on the ground, and pray my husband wasn't parking the car somewhere close by extravaganza. I mention this now because I have parent teacher conferences coming up, and I will be sporting both a very professional teacherly dress (sans Keds, thank you very much) and a maroon scrape the size of a Sacajawea dollar on my knee. Yipes.
In spite of all this, I signed up for two runs yesterday: the Wrigley Start Early 10k and the Soldier Field 10 mile. After making excuses for the last few days and sulking, I'm ready to head out after work today for what will hopefully be a much less painful 3.5 miles. Wish me luck. Hopefully, the only evidence I'll be wearing from this run tomorrow will be some poppin' hammies.
So, on March 1st, I laced up my shoes, dusted off my Nike +, and headed out to run before my book club. (We read The Glass Castle, in case you are interested) I battled out a few miles, noted how jiggly I felt during the whole process, and then saw my friend Lindsay's apartment in the distance and realized how invigorated I would feel when I was done.
Boy, was I wrong.
Ten feet from Lindsay's door, I skidded on a patch of ice and ate it. I'm not talking about a little stumble here, people. This was a full-fledged, fall down, skid on the ground, and pray my husband wasn't parking the car somewhere close by extravaganza. I mention this now because I have parent teacher conferences coming up, and I will be sporting both a very professional teacherly dress (sans Keds, thank you very much) and a maroon scrape the size of a Sacajawea dollar on my knee. Yipes.
In spite of all this, I signed up for two runs yesterday: the Wrigley Start Early 10k and the Soldier Field 10 mile. After making excuses for the last few days and sulking, I'm ready to head out after work today for what will hopefully be a much less painful 3.5 miles. Wish me luck. Hopefully, the only evidence I'll be wearing from this run tomorrow will be some poppin' hammies.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Mom's in the House
My mom is in grad school for nursing. She shares my work-and-school pain, and to make matters worse (for her) she's going to take a lot longer to finish her degree than I will mine. Hurray for teachers! For one of her projects, she has to work with a family that shows many health risks and try to help them improve their habits. Because I work at a very high-risk school, she came to me asking for help. I forwarded her email to our school nurse, matched her up with a family, and went back to slogging through my own homework.
A few days ago, I got an email written only as a Catholic mother can. It was actually a forwarded email response that she had sent the mother of the family she is working with:
"Meeting at 3:00 in the office sounds great. Now we just need to hunt for a nice, quiet place to work."
No "Dear Colie" No "Do you know of any places we could work?" Just a sad plea for help. Naturally, I took this to mean that she wanted to work in my classroom.
I should say here and now that I love my mom. She's funny. She's smart. She usually doesn't give unsolicited advice. She let me shave my legs when I was in fifth grade. All excellent qualities. However, as soon as I replied that she could use my room once my students left, I panicked. Since then, I've been on a cleaning frenzy. Every pile of papers on my desk had to go. The tables had to be Cloroxed. The shelves of toys had to be reorganized.
Forget that I'm a successful, well-regarded teacher with a high academic success rate. Mom's coming, and if my room is dirty, I will SO be grounded.
A few days ago, I got an email written only as a Catholic mother can. It was actually a forwarded email response that she had sent the mother of the family she is working with:
"Meeting at 3:00 in the office sounds great. Now we just need to hunt for a nice, quiet place to work."
No "Dear Colie" No "Do you know of any places we could work?" Just a sad plea for help. Naturally, I took this to mean that she wanted to work in my classroom.
I should say here and now that I love my mom. She's funny. She's smart. She usually doesn't give unsolicited advice. She let me shave my legs when I was in fifth grade. All excellent qualities. However, as soon as I replied that she could use my room once my students left, I panicked. Since then, I've been on a cleaning frenzy. Every pile of papers on my desk had to go. The tables had to be Cloroxed. The shelves of toys had to be reorganized.
Forget that I'm a successful, well-regarded teacher with a high academic success rate. Mom's coming, and if my room is dirty, I will SO be grounded.
Monday, March 1, 2010
It's A Small World After All
We had a little scare at our casa this weekend.
Friday night we stayed out super late causing mayhem and eating tacos with some friends, and so we slept in Saturday morning. For some reason, Kev likes to sleep with his itouch next to the bed, and before I was awake he rolled over and read his email. Then he paused. Then he nudged me out of bed and towards CNN.
Chile had been struck by an 8.8 magnitude earthquake, and my sister has been there since mid-January studying abroad. We spent a few hours checking emails, talking to my mom, and stalking facebook, until, finally, news came through an indirect source that my sis was okay and safe with her host family in their home, which had been undamaged, though the family suffered severe damage to other properties that they own.
Now, I don't think I need to bore you with how stressed, worried and sad I was on Saturday afternoon waiting for information. I am not a very patient person when it comes to these types of things. I love my sister dearly, and I am so very thankful that she is safe.
What continues to amaze me, in the aftermath, is just how quickly information came to us. Although my sister is half a world away, in a place where it is warm (unlike the frozen tundra I live in), emails from other girls in her program quickly reached us saying that my sis was with her family and unhurt, and people quickly posted pictures on their blogs of the damage. CNN was using Twitter to chart people's reports of damage, and to figure out which areas of Chile were the most severely impacted.
It seems that the internet has made it a small world after all. Though I know only a handful of people read this, it comforts me to know that we've staked our own small claim on the gigantic internet community, and that underneath all of the superficial emails and websites I spend hours on, that real information, that really makes life better, is passed on. I talked to my sister on AIM this morning, and I will never, ever again take this type of communication for granted. I'm thankful that though my sister is farther than she's ever been from me, we're communicating more regularly than usual. I have much more than her safety to be thankful for. I can also feel blessed that she lives with a family where internet is available, and that she has a working computer. I can be thankful that when we were concerned, a whole community of people reached out on my facebook page to post prayers, positive energy, and questions about my sister.
For all I curse technology when it doesn't work right, I now know exactly how amazing it can be when it does.
Friday night we stayed out super late causing mayhem and eating tacos with some friends, and so we slept in Saturday morning. For some reason, Kev likes to sleep with his itouch next to the bed, and before I was awake he rolled over and read his email. Then he paused. Then he nudged me out of bed and towards CNN.
Chile had been struck by an 8.8 magnitude earthquake, and my sister has been there since mid-January studying abroad. We spent a few hours checking emails, talking to my mom, and stalking facebook, until, finally, news came through an indirect source that my sis was okay and safe with her host family in their home, which had been undamaged, though the family suffered severe damage to other properties that they own.
Now, I don't think I need to bore you with how stressed, worried and sad I was on Saturday afternoon waiting for information. I am not a very patient person when it comes to these types of things. I love my sister dearly, and I am so very thankful that she is safe.
What continues to amaze me, in the aftermath, is just how quickly information came to us. Although my sister is half a world away, in a place where it is warm (unlike the frozen tundra I live in), emails from other girls in her program quickly reached us saying that my sis was with her family and unhurt, and people quickly posted pictures on their blogs of the damage. CNN was using Twitter to chart people's reports of damage, and to figure out which areas of Chile were the most severely impacted.
It seems that the internet has made it a small world after all. Though I know only a handful of people read this, it comforts me to know that we've staked our own small claim on the gigantic internet community, and that underneath all of the superficial emails and websites I spend hours on, that real information, that really makes life better, is passed on. I talked to my sister on AIM this morning, and I will never, ever again take this type of communication for granted. I'm thankful that though my sister is farther than she's ever been from me, we're communicating more regularly than usual. I have much more than her safety to be thankful for. I can also feel blessed that she lives with a family where internet is available, and that she has a working computer. I can be thankful that when we were concerned, a whole community of people reached out on my facebook page to post prayers, positive energy, and questions about my sister.
For all I curse technology when it doesn't work right, I now know exactly how amazing it can be when it does.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Nerd Couple
I am beyond excited. Today Kev has an appointment with his academic adviser to register for his classes for grad school. He's in a great program that's going to get him closer to his life's goals, this degree will eventually provide him with the means to move higher in his career, and he generally likes school, much as he would hate for his high school friends to call him out on it.
While I'm happy for him for all of these reasons, a part of me (I won't say how big) also can't wait to have some sympathy- he'll now know exactly how gross it is to go to class twice a week after working all day. Instead of teasing me about procrastinating my homework, he'll have to do homework too. Sweet revenge for the last four months is coming soon, and I am ecstatic.
I realize this is a less than flattering announcement, but I don't care. I'm just being honest. I realize in all likelihood he will be more gracious and productive during his grad school years than I am, and that's okay. I'm willing to be the smaller person, and admit it. Despite being a teacher, I really still do think that homework sucks. Hurray for being a pair of nerds.
While I'm happy for him for all of these reasons, a part of me (I won't say how big) also can't wait to have some sympathy- he'll now know exactly how gross it is to go to class twice a week after working all day. Instead of teasing me about procrastinating my homework, he'll have to do homework too. Sweet revenge for the last four months is coming soon, and I am ecstatic.
I realize this is a less than flattering announcement, but I don't care. I'm just being honest. I realize in all likelihood he will be more gracious and productive during his grad school years than I am, and that's okay. I'm willing to be the smaller person, and admit it. Despite being a teacher, I really still do think that homework sucks. Hurray for being a pair of nerds.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
No Security Blanket
Kev is out of town on business this week, and while I consider myself a respectable, independent adult who is capable of living and working on my own, I'm getting a little ragged around the edges.
For starters, I haven't slept the last two nights. I am a person who requires a lot of sleep, and I'm not very nice to the kiddos at school when I don't get it. The last two nights, I just haven't been able to get comfy. I keep hearing strange noises, the radio is either too loud or too soft, the pillows are shedding down everywhere, and the dial on our alarm clock is just too dang bright. The bed feels enormous, and I keep worrying that I'm leaving the doors open or that the cats will find a mouse and bring it to me (it happened to Kevin once and I'm still terrified). I've been stumbling around in a stupor and brought the wrong notebooks to both of my grad classes. I finally decided to pack up my laundry, get my hair cut, and stay with my parents tonight. I'm starting to look like a hippie at a fest.
To top it all off, this morning I realized I left my house without my planner. Ordinarily, I am a very disorganized person. My classroom tends to have stacks of papers and books and my house is usually teetering on the edge of disaster. However, I cannot live without my planner. It has daily to-do lists, color coded by class, work, or home jobs, and it has running schedules and dates for pretty much everything. I have a lot of plan time at school on Thursdays, and I was really counting on my planner to keep me honest about how much I had actually gotten done. I also have gobs of homework for grad school this weekend. Ew. Leaving home without it has caused me to waste a lot of time trying to remember what was on my list, and I'm getting cranky about it.
Kev comes home tomorrow. Hopefully his pilot puts the pedal to the metal. Things are starting to get ugly.
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