Since I went back to work, 2 1/2 years ago, I have grown to hate this question.

Now my vacation days are full of doctor appointments or family trips.

Ironically, I find myself asking other non-teacher, working mothers the same question.  As soon as the typical "how are you" type question leaves my lips, I wish I could take it back.  

I hate "how are you" because I am not going to tell you that I have had a chronic migraine for several months 
(unless you read it on social network.....I'll post it, but I'll pretty much post anything...saying it is different).

I hate "how are you" because I do not want you to really answer more than one word...."fine".

The same with "how's your summer".......what summer.....

Gone are my stay-at-home summer days. 
 
 - - Days of forcing the boys to swim at the YMCA all day long, because if I'm going to pack all that crap and haul it to the pool, we are going to stay until I am too tired to haul the crap back to the car!
- - Days of forcing the boys to play outside in the suffocating humidity and the boiling sun, because it is summer and that means you should be outside.....no matter how miserable and close to death the heat makes you.
- - Days of reading books for fun and doing nothing else until the book is finished, because I must complete anything I start, without interruption.....like meals, or quality time.

What is not gone?  Summer ear infections....

BUT - - gone are the days that Max is excited about sitting in Dr. Chanin's Blue's Clues Thinking Chair....

Gone are the days of a stay-at-home mom of little boys....

My baby Jack will be 17 in a month.  He is never home because he drives and has a job...

Monday, he flew on an airplane for the first time......to Budapest, Hungary...for 12 days.

The red suitcase is mostly full of empty space, 13 t-shirts, and a couple of shorts.

The black suitcase was packed by a youth leader, not Jack, and contains 50 pounds of powdered paint in baggies....much like drugs....and Jack was instructed, by the mission trip leader:
"they will ask you if anyone else packed your bag.  You say 'no'..."

Thankfully, I found this funny...going on a mission trip and lying to the feds....

My baby Max will be 15 in two months....driving...

He has passed his mother in intelligence.  He gave me a complete History lesson at the 3rth of July celebration.  
Being a homeschool teacher/mom, I should have responded proudly:  
"I'm glad you paid attention to my teaching."

But instead I was: "Really??  where the heck did you learn that?"

Gone are the days of feeling the need to provide educational playtime, worrying if he will wander off at the 3rth of July concert....

What is not gone?  Max's fascination with destruction...explosions, taking things apart to see how they work.....burning things with a magnifying glass...

I needed some summer days...DESPERATELY!

So Friday and Saturday, I did nothing but read a book.....one of the best books I have read in a long time!

I donned my Esther Williams swimsuit and lounged in the backyard for two days.  I was transported to Germany during the late 1930s and early 40s.  I laughed and cried as I became another character in the book.  I had not lost myself in a book, in years.  I entered 2014 only to go in the house for water or break for lunch with Max.

Today, as my heart pounded because I was nearing the end of the book, I needed to stop for water.  I ascended the steps to the back door and noticed my neighbor had been watching me through parted blinds.

I told Jeff, "the weirdo is looking at me, in my bathing suit, and probably wondering why I would walk around the backyard without a cover-up!"  Jeff responded with an obligatory compliment.  I rolled my eyes and went back to my backyard blanket, and a riveting story.

Later, my phone buzzed with a text.  I paused my running from the Nazis, to see who might be trying to contact me.  It was Jeff and he had sent an image....

I turned to look at the house, and Jeff stood proudly in the window.

Gone are the days that I need 2 months of nothing.  I have thoroughly enjoyed my two days of summer and am ready to go back to work, on Monday.

Tonight, I ran on the hotel treadmill, instead of running outside, in the beautiful weather, into the colorful sunset.  Why?  I don't know.

As I entered the tiny workout closet, I noted that I was the only one in the room.  I turned on the basketball game, turned on my music, and started running.  Out of the corners of my eyes, I noticed 2 other people running with me.

It began to be distracting so I casually turned my gaze straight ahead, into the entire mirrored wall.  I then turned to my left and lost my orientation in the other entire mirrored wall.  

I tried to go back to watching the game, but I was mesmerized by my reflection.  No matter how much weight I lose or how toned I get, my body does not show it.  
To pass the running time, I started really looking at myself, trying to see what others see.  I have spent my whole life avoiding my reflection.  I have perfected the glance-roll-eyes-and-go move. 
I have never LOOKED at myself.

I started at my face and moved down to my feet.  I probably should have cringed at the sight, but instead I was whisked away into "my life story".

I saw two spiral curls on top of my head that did a trampoline "double bounce" every time my feet landed.  They looked like broken, unraveling bunny ears.  I have thick unruly hair, and it matches my personality perfectly. 

The longer I ran, my skin shade turned from white, to pink, to a light sunburn shade.  Sadly, I had a few years in high school and college, when I thought a tan would make me pretty.  I am thankful I realized in my late 20s that my shading is perfect for me.  I am not without blemishes, but the sun damage is minimal.

My face is round and will always be round, supporting my wild hair, my grumpy expressions, and providing amusement.  It is rare that I get an involuntary real smile, but when someone is able to extract it from me, my cheeks fill out and block my vision.......making me laugh at the absurdity....creating a bigger smile.

My full and sagging chin/neck identify me as a Kennedy.  My maternal grandmother, her sisters, her brother, and my mother have the same chin/neck.  A family story tells about my mother's aunt strapping saran wrap under her face to hold up the hereditary droop, for a family picture.

My profile presents my odd nose, but it is my maternal grandfather's odd nose.  It reminds me how he would listen without response to all the chaos around him, puff on his pipe, wipe the end of his nose with one finger, and grunt a laugh or grumble, as his opinion.  

My full upper arms and upper body were developed during the years I swam, and they remind me of all the years of picking up my special needs students and my own large babies! I have great upper body strength.

My firm calves and skinny ankles made me audibly giggle.  They are the only evidence that I am a runner.

My thighs......my thighs....
As I looked at my thighs, I tried to see some of my life history in them.  I had a thought on the tip of my brain, but I could not think of what my thighs could remind.  So I looked at them intently, and it hit me.

They look like two baked potatoes. 

The family album project was over.  My brain was flooded with thoughts of loaded baked potato, baked potato with French Onions on top, twice baked potato, potato soup......

The run was over.  I hopped off the treadmill and hurried to the shower.....ready to eat!

What is a valentine?

Anyone that chooses to love you when you are at your worst.....

a friend, a spouse, family

I chose the above picture to represent LOVE because I had just birthed Max, Jeff was in zombie state and Jack was being so naughty. I remember thinking "what have I done..."

I really don't care for valentines day.

I want to be shown love because a sunrise was inspiration or I said something funny, not because you ran in Walgreens and an aisle of pink and red crap commanded you to love me.

I haven't always felt this way..

I loved it in elementary school!

The candy!

The class party!

The 43 valentine cards in a shoebox!

(I went to public school=challenging student/teacher ratio)

As you can see, I was the same at age 8.

Hungry and not so girly....

Then, when I entered junior high, there was no shoebox.

I quickly realized my classmates were forced to love me in elementary.

Not so in junior high.

And therefore, I never received a pink, yellow, or red carnation....not even the friendly white.

High school.... I was never asked to the dance....or given a dang cupidgram.

But despite the many movies, books and TV shows confirming my feelings in my teen years..."I am not the girl they want to love"

I learned what "I love you" means:

Being disappointed but not leaving

Disagreeing but willing to agree to disagree

Hurting feelings but feeling the need to repair them

Enjoying silence without anxiety

Enjoying conversation on any topic because it is conversation with the one you love

Making an effort to let the other "feel" loved

Knowing that you both like each other even in the worst fight

And

Showing love to them on Valentines Day, as well as "you're gettin on my nerves" day.

"MAWGET!"
The beautiful blond hopped toward me and her smiling face could not hide any of her emotions.  She was truly overjoyed to see me.

Her long blond hair bounced as she spun and bounced back a few steps.  Before I knew it, she had hooked my thigh with the shephard's crook and was pulling me toward her.

Today was "rehearsal" for the 1st Grade Christmas play.  The teachers were happy to see me.  They were trying to get the "angels", "wisemen", and "shepherds" in their costumes and my Sunday Friend had other ideas for the morning.

I asked my favorite 7 year old if she would put on an Angel robe.
grumpily she stomped, "no"
Then the teacher said "What if Ms. Margaret wore one too?"

Oh, good grief, why suggest something that might not even need to be suggested!!
I sweated out the response, because even though donning a first grade Angel costume and placing my thick 40 year old self in a group of nine, tiny, 7 year old angels was a complete nightmare, I would do it for my Sunday Friend.  

She dropped her head in a pout and grumpily stomped  "no"
phew!

I spent the morning giving my Friend 2 choices for everything she did not want to do and standing my ground. She had to choose ONE.  "NO" was not an option.

"Do you want to go in this room and color with these kids, or do you want to go in the other room and sing?"

"NO" plops in the floor

I lowered my voice and put on my expressionless, "I have no concern" face.  I took her hand and in one move picked her off the floor and led her to the fish tank.
"I did not ask.  Now you find 5 fish and I will choose a room, if you don't"

This confused her.  She loves looking at the fish, so how was this a punishment?  We named the fish, created a story and started giggling together.......while I led her into the rehearsal room.

We ended up in the corner, watching the other children.  15 minutes of her smiling at me, hugging me, wrapping her arm around my neck, and filling my heart.  She listened and watched the children, saying only two things the whole time:

1.  As she ran her little finger through my hair and found that it was a '2 clip day' for my curls, she said  "my mommy can brush hair.  You want her to brush yours?"

2.  Can I see baby Jesus?  I need to see his eyes.

The first comment filled my heart.
The second comment broke it.  

I need to look at people's eyes when I talk to them, when I am unsure about myself, when I need to feel approval.  I would give anything to look into Jesus's eyes as I beg him for help with my struggles, ask for forgiveness, or need to feel loved.

"yes, when all the kids are done, we can go over and look at Baby Jesus."
Her fingers clasped together, her eyes curved and her teeth clinched together as her mouth widened with an excited smile.
She kept her eyes on the baby doll the rest of the time.

The kids left the room and the teachers followed behind.  I explained that my Friend and I were staying behind and the last teacher turned to look at us.  

"Put Baby Jesus in the closet when you are done."

My Friend looked at me with worry.  I whispered that Baby Jesus would wait right here in the room until next Sunday. No closet.  
I would have to get her out of the room before stuffing the manger and baby in the closet with the costumes.

As the noise moved away from our room, I felt swallowed into a calm.

"Where are Baby Jesus's clothes?"

"He doesnt have any, that is why they wrap him in blankets."

We unwrapped the doll and looked at the hands, counted the fingers and smiled at each other with giggles.
We unwrapped the doll's feet and counted the toes.
"His feet are cold.  Give him your scarf."

We wrapped Baby Jesus in my blue knit scarf.
"He feels better."

She grabbed the baby up in her arms, flopped herself into my lap, grabbed my right hand and placed it on her shoulder, grabbed my left hand and placed it under the baby's head, and then wrapped her right arm around my neck.  We sat, wrapped up in each other, holding the baby doll.

She whispered "I like his eyes."

"yes, they are nice."

She looked at my eyes  "I love Him."

Well.......shoot!  My eyes welled up with tears and they overflowed to my cheeks.  I smiled at my sweet friend.
"Yes, and he loves you!"

She shoved the baby toward my chest "Do you love him?"

Fighting back the ugly cry, my voice squeaked, "yes......yes, I do."

After my Friend left with her dad, I took back my scarf and wrapped the doll in all the cloths, folded it up with the manger and stuffed it under the angel costumes.

Then my dripping heart, eyes and nose ventured out of the quiet, warm and perfect room and into the loud screaming bustle of the hallway.

My Sunday FRIEND felt it was time to see how far she could push me today.  I think she won. 

I am so glad I taught school and had kids in my 20s, when I was creative and successful in making all children do the right thing.

After a horrible week of migraines and no sleep, I gave into rationalizing the need my FRIEND would have to roam the halls, instead of sitting with her class.
I convinced myself that it would not set a precedence for what would happen every Sunday. 

As we roamed from empty room to empty room, we found objects that started with....whatever letter she chose.

Educational.....but with each shrill and giggle of enjoyment I knew I was losing the idea of ever joining the class for music and story time.

When my FRIEND shot down the hall and up the stairs, I knew I had created future Sunday disasters.

I searched my brilliant brain for a creative way to discourage anymore of these actions. 

Nothing.

Knowing that she really doesn't like to be held or forcefully moved, I stupidly said:
"you come down the stairs or I'm going to turn you into a sack of potatoes."

She stared wide-eyed but curious as I picked her up and swung her over my shoulder (like a sack of potatoes).

Her giggles and big smile alerted me that this was NOT going to discourage her.

Trying to salvage the situation, I told her that next Sunday we must join the class:

"What would you like me to bring, for you to hold quietly in your hands, as we sit with the class."

"This fish!"  she pointed to the ginormous goldfish swimming in the 1000 gallon tank beside us.  
 Her feeling of excitement met my "oh, crap" feeling.

Soon her mother arrived.  
"Bye Market!", she melts me with the way she pronounces my name.


I can only assume that MOM was wondering why her daughter was roaming the halls with me instead of joining her class, because what is the use of ME if her daughter is not with her peers.  MOM gave me an unsure but polite smile and thanked me for being with FRIEND.

"Bye 'FRIEND', see you next Sunday!"
My FRIEND melts me with her smile as she yells, "Market, put me back in the sack of potatoes!"
and skips away.

I glance at MOM.  She's not smiling as she turns and hesitantly waves bye to me.


.......now, where to get a fish before next Sunday.......

When I left work on Friday, I was overwhelmed with excitement.  I was turning 40 on Sunday and planning on celebrating the whole weekend.  I turned on the radio and rolled down the windows.  

I have attached the album cover:

When I began writing this post, it was to be humorous.   Within the last 15 minutes, I have started to freak myself out!

I love scary movies and horror movies and shows like Criminal Minds.  They never scare me.

I stay home alone with no worries.

I have never been in a bad part of town and felt scared.....maybe aware of danger, but never scared.

Tonight, I drove down a long deserted street.  I passed a hotel that looked run down....possibly an "hourly" joint...I was relieved to find it wasn't my hotel.

I soon came to my hotel.  It looked great from the outside, it looked great in the lobby.  
I checked in.

The young boy running the desk said I could have an even better rate than he quoted me over the phone.  I was happy.  The place seemed very quiet and as he was getting all my personal information, I glanced out the window toward my car.  
MY CAR...the only car in the parking lot.

I gathered my things and went to the room.  The room was old, but clean....I'm guessing. 
I don't travel with my CSI ultra violet light anymore.

I turned to lock the door and chain it....

The only security is a hinged plate that sticks 2 inches away from the door.

"oh good"  I thought.  "Must make it easier to bust in"

I pulled back the sheet to do my usual inspection for stains and visible grossness.  All was good.

I changed clothes to go to dinner.  As I was changing, I heard random noises on the other side of the wall.   I smiled as I kidded myself that this place was so vacant, it might be like the Bates Motel. 

On my way down the dark hall (I noticed the lights were not working), I passed by the pool room.  
I had seen the picture of the nice pool on the website and joked on facebook about how I was going to swim laps in the tiny pool instead of running in this area of town.  I was curious about how small it really was.

Not only is it TINY but the water is brown and the bottom is stained and in ruins.

ICK!

When I returned from dinner, I drove the whole parking lot.  Not ONE car.  Not even a car for the guy at the front desk.  

I am now in my room, in an empty motel.  I can hear someone clapping or tap dancing down the hall.  I occasionally hear the door to the room next to me open and close.  I wonder who it is, since there are no cars.  The "hourly" hotel lot was packed.  I might feel safer there!

I am in appropriate PJs in case my body ends up on the news.

When I travel, the guys text me pictures of their day.  I always look forward to my texts from home!

Our Science curriculum ALWAYS says to wear safety glasses, even if all you are doing is measuring a book.  It is quite ridiculous!

Jeff sent me these pictures with the text, "good thing he had on safety glasses"

I have learned not to check my texts during meetings because it is quite possible that I laugh!

I was sent this picture to show that my sweet child, although recovering from surgery and dealing with double ear infections, was doing his school work.  

The picture was sent as a "slide show" with the second picture.  So when I received the text, I was looking at the following picture of Max, and then all of the sudden, the second picture popped up!

This morning, our preacher addressed a hymn we sang earlier in the service.

"I am about to ruin the hymn for you......"
Well, my ears perked up!  I love a good scandal and I could only imagine that a scandal would be the thing to ruin a hymn.  I racked my brain to figure out what dirty secret we would find out about the sinful author.

"Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing"

I glance at Jeff.  He told me several years ago that he loved that hymn.  
I giggled to myself as I thought.....
Well, I hope he is preparing to be disappointed.....
AND ANYWAY, why the heck are we singing it, if it has a soap opera story tied to it??


The preacher proceeds to tell us about Robert Robinson, the author of the hymn, and how he eventually left the faith.  

In the last stanza, Robert writes:

Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, 
Prone to leave the God I love 
Take my heart, O take and seal it 
Seal it for thy courts above.

Robert was prone to wander.  The feelings he indulged were overwhelming.
I began to examine the words, starting with the title:
Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing:
  Please Lord! I am desperate for you to give me your endless blessings!

For me, the hymn went from a regular church song about worshiping God to an honest cry to God, 

"I need you!"

I can feel exactly what Robert felt: the hole, the ache.
Please Lord! Take my heart, seal it! Protect me from myself!

Every Sunday, I pray a similar prayer, and feel awful that the JOY and choosing God does not come easily.

I, daily, indulge and meditate on earthly desires.  

It is painful to follow God.  
It is painful to give up desires.  
It is painful to choose the Lord.  

So I warn those that attend church with me.  Next time we sing this hymn, I will be belting out the last stanza, making it obvious that God did not give me the gift of singing......
AND I quite possibly may indulge in the ugly cry, making it obvious that God did not give me the gift of self-control.

However, I know that he took my heart and sealed it!

I spent the day in a small town about 5 miles wide, and yes! I still got lost....
but that is not what this post is about

I realized that Osceola, AR is a small but friendly town.....uncomfortably friendly, like when you are at a stop sign with your windows down because it is one of the most beautiful days of the year and the gang on the corner not only says "hi" but ask you if your day is going well, and "do you need a light?" as they hand me their lighter......thoroughly confused me.
but that is not what this post is about

After I had an actually WONDERFUL day, business wise.....because I make up weird challenges for myself and then see if I can complete these "missions" to see how far I can get into a "secured" facility.
but that is not what this post is about

I set up shop at the ONE McDonald's, stuffed my face with yummy fries and lost myself in work...
I hear above me in a muffled voice:
"I just celebrated my 102nd birthday this week"

I look up at a tall man that YES looks like he is 102 or 127!
"wow, that is great"  I politely said, smiled, noticed his cataract covered eyes and hearing aids, then looked back at my computer....

"Do you know why girls have curly hair?"
oh, crap! not only is he going to talk to me, he is going to loudly talk to me....
I cringe at the question because, frankly, I am scared what the answer might be.

"why?"  I give him a side look as if that will deflect the coming answer.

"From looking at boys!  You college girls need to watch out."

Bless the man with one foot in the grave.  I ignore that he is legally blind.....
hey! he saw enough to see I had curly hair!  Let's say he saw enough to see I look as young as a college girl.......

yea, I know....

"Well, I am a bit older than college."

"Well then, you need to really be careful because looking at boys can get you babies."

"yea, that is what I have heard"

He goes back to his "mcdonald's mens club" taking up 4 tables...none of them can hear....it would have been humorous, if I wasn't trying to concentrate!

As I was packing up my stuff to leave, he walked over and handed me this:

"You look like you might need this.  You have a long life ahead of you."

So I looked young and SINFUL.