Super fast forward; Eli is 2.5 and a force of nature. He started pre-school and I freaked out. He is still working on speaking and I freak out. But most importantly, he is happy and profoundly adored and likes to puts things in order--his dinosaurs and balls and blocks. Lines are needed and requested and enjoyed.

This year at work I have an all boys class. 11 Of the sweetest, loudest little human beings on the planet. My voice is literally obliterated by the end, and I say, " Listen to my words!" like 47 times a day. I know alot more about construction workers who wield swords and dinosaurs that "eat your face." I have learned to instruct my guys to say "excuse me" when passing gas and burping and popping each other in the mouth--accidentally, of course.

I'm trying to lighten up. I can't agonize over every possible possibility. I can't make every lame, lazy person give a crap about their contribution to society. It's not my job to be every body's friend or even tolerated for that matter. Deep breaths and careful words are going to be my weapons of choice.

school days...

Excuse the sentimental lament. But I'm a teacher and I not only relish summer's arrival, I also feel the gentle tug at my heartstrings when I know a child or 16 is about to leave my room and head off into sunburns, mosquito bites and kool-aid moustaches. The end of the year is usually so tumultuous that by day's end on that final day of schoool I am so completely exausted that the reality that these kid's don't "belong" to me anymore has not fully smacked me in the face. My tears are brief--if at all. And only on that long ride home can I fully reflect that I have spent and entire school year getting to know these little humans. From the first two weeks of school, when I question my career choice, to fall's arrival when I am feeling so completely in love with the outside world that it can't help but spill over into the classroom, I have to reflect and feel the utter amazement that I was allowed that much time with such an amazing a group of little personalities. It's April now. Teacher's like to joke and count down the days until summer. I'm not going to tell you that inside it's a different story--inside we're "torn apart." We're not. We love the little guys and we'll miss them. But like the passing of a torch, we know that we're getting a fresh batch in the fall. We'll have few tow-heads, maybe a red-head here or there, and even a future astro-physicist. I will have a few thousand colds, a few parents that need more than their share of reassuring pats on the back, and a couple of hundred cookie cakes.

It's been a while. Those infamous words have been quoted by bloggers far better than myself. I feel completely clogged, stifled. I'm dreaming in sesame street stereo. There are cheese puffs on the hearth, duct tape on the couch, and the sky is gray and threatening the un-mowed lawn with another rainy assault. Friday night. Go and grab a drink because the air is thick with possibilities.

This girl needs an outlet.

Hmmm. January is the cruelest month--April be damned. Our Great room is a menagerie of pain--pine fronds cover the floor, decapitated snow globes, and the remnants of Christmas 2010 lie strewn on the stained carpet. Can you say, "This stinks?" I am always torn by how completely blessed I feel after Christmas (the spoils, the love, the food) and how utterly I hate the late winter. utterly. hate. it. The gray skies of fall are somehow different in February. I find myself NOT completely revolted by the Valentine aisle at Target on December 28th. I mean, sure, I need that purple and red, glittered heart wreath right NOW....

blerg.

Fights make me sad. They make me angry and stupid and irrational. Even when I feel like I'm right, I can't concentrate. I focus on everything that makes me right and everything that makes him stupid.