Sharing Books

One of the hats I wear at work is "Reading Specialist". It is not a big hat, but I take very seriously my role as a resource for teachers and parents. Last week at our school's family literacy night, I read aloud a book I had discovered at the reading convention I attended in February. I shared I Yam a Donkey by CeCe Bell (who also wrote El Deafo, which is a very meaningful favorite book for me). It is a hilarious book about a persnickety yam with a distaste for poor grammar and a lovable and grammatically incorrect donkey. There were many laughs (mostly from the parents) and comments on how it was a pretty funny book. Usually, I do not work on Fridays, but I was there today for Family Fun Day in my son's classroom. One of the parents who attended the literacy night came up to me and told me how she had purchased I Yam a Donkey for her girls and that they read it over and over at home and really loved it. We chatted a bit about the book and I told her how happy I was that she liked it. She told me I could always give her more suggestions about books. As I walked down the hall with my children, I smiled to myself and thought, Yes! I was a resource for this family! Sometime I feel discouraged when resources I put together do not appear to be used or needed. This encounter reminded me of the importance of sharing and trying and being a resource even when it feels like no one is utilizing what I am offering. You never know when you will make that difference. This inspired me to update my book blog and add book chats to my website.

Sweet Home Wisconsin

I live in a small town. A very small town. The population is about 1,000 people. There are four churches and four bars downtown, so we have as many bars as churches, which is pretty standard for Wisconsin. There is a vibrant small school district in our town, which is where I work. There is a gas station, a handful of small businesses and some of the nicest people you will ever meet. I love our town. When I was growing up, my family moved a lot, so I didn't really have a hometown. We mostly lived in cities. While Air Force bases definitely feel like small towns, the population turns over every few years, so it not the same as growing up with the same people and knowing them your whole life. I realize that to some people a town of 1,000 may not sound THAT small, but to me, it certainly did.

When my husband and I were engaged, we decided to buy his childhood home and settle down in his small town home town. I continued to teach in a town about 45 minutes away until a few years and two babies later. When I did start teaching here, I felt like overnight I became a local. I went from knowing very few locals to knowing more than my husband. Now, our kids go to school with the kids of some of my husband's classmates. They will have a few of the same teachers. They will grow up in a place where most people know them and care about them. People look after each other here. I love that. It doesn't mean it is perfect here, because it most definitely isn't, but I feel like I belong. I feel like it is MY hometown now, too. It's a good feeling.

Now that I have explained the background I can get to the ACTUAL slice of today. I had a meeting at the high school today around lunchtime. When I was done, I stopped downtown to mail some things at the post office and grab lunch to-go at the cafe. Five bucks for a homemade BLT isn't bad. As I walked into the cafe, I felt like I was in a scene from the movie Sweet Home Alabama with Reese Witherspoon--the scene towards the end of the movie when the lawyer goes to the town diner and asks about how to find Reese Witherspoon's character. All of the locals, including the town cop, turn and look, disapprovingly assess the stranger and basically give him the cold shoulder. They do not help him find Reese Witherspoon. As I walked through the front door today at the cafe, the locals turned to evaluate. I walked up to the counter to put in my order and exchanged pleasantries with the town cop. Totally reminded me of that scene from the movie.

On the walls in the cafe, there are rows and rows of coffee mugs with names on them for the regulars. I do not have a coffee mug here. YET. I guess that is what happens when you live in the country...you aren't local enough for a personalized mug.

I like being a part of this small town and feeling like the people here are looking out for my family. And they really are. I have seen enough proof of that in the last eight years. While I may not be a "true blue-born and raised here-local, I like to believe I am an adopted local. It's nice to belong. And if a stranger rolls into town looking for me, I'd like to believe the locals would be suspicious and protective and pretend they don't know me...just like in the scene from Sweet Home Alabama.

A Walk Outside

I started today off on the right foot. I turned off the alarm clock, found my tennis shoes, and headed outside. The morning was quiet and the air was damp.  Fog hung heavily and unevenly over the fields. The sky was lightening and clouds scattered the horizon. I breathed in and out and began my walk...enjoying the fifty degree morning. It was peaceful. I could hear my feet thumping along the road and the train in the distant background. I could hear myself think. Yes, I most definitely had a great start to my day.

A Loose Tooth

Mason was about eight months old when his first tooth FINALLY popped through his gums. At four months old, he was drooling all over everything and chewing on his hands like they were laced in sugar. Everyone said, "He has to be teething!" Being a first time mother, I thought that meant he would actually cut a tooth sometime very soon. We waited through four months of "teething" until that tooth finally showed. 

I remember my joy when he hit all of those exciting milestones...his first smile...the day he rolled over for the first time...his first birthday...when he started walking...potty training...his first day of kindergarten. Today, Mason excitedly came to me with another milestone...his very first loose tooth. It is legitimately loose, too. At our last visit to the dentist, he told Mason he had a few teeth a little loose. But this is an ACTUAL loose tooth that feels like it will ACTUALLY fall out of his mouth very soon. And he will look at me with that goofy toothless grin. And he will keep loosing teeth and he will keep growing up. 

Mason is an incredible kid. He is insightful and level-headed. He reads to his sister and plays with his brother and leaves notes on my pillow. When I see him working to figure something out, I think this must be what my husband was like when he was six. They are so much alike. 

He is so tall now and I can barely pick him up anymore. When he crawls onto my lap, I enjoy every moment he sits there because I know this won't last forever. When did this happen? When did he get old enough to lose a tooth? 

Seeing my child's joy at this new experience filled me with excitement--true and real joy at this new stage in his life. This made me think of all the new experiences to come with all three of my children. How blessed I feel to be a part of this journey with them. This realization made me think of my own parents, and how they must have felt at all of those milestones--first tooth, first loose tooth, graduation, marriage...and most recently, watching each of their children become parents. It makes me understand their love for my brother and me that much more. It's amazing the perspective you get on your own parents when you become a parent. 

And so here we are, excitedly awaiting for that first tooth to come out...another beautiful milestone on this beautiful journey. 

Spring is Springing!

I wore my winter coat to work this morning. My boys had their hats and mittens. At lunchtime, someone mentioned how beautiful it was outside--60 degrees. 60 degrees!!!! 3:45 couldn't come fast enough. I was so excited to go outside with my kids and PLAY! OUTSIDE!

3:45 came and it was time to go home. I flung my coat over my arm and when my son asked if he could go outside in his short sleeves, I said, "Sure!" Off we went. The world just seemed brighter today.

I live in Wisconsin where March really is a mixed bag. It can be 60 degrees one day and snow the next. You never know when the weather will turn from early spring back to winter. So, you learn to embrace these beautiful early spring days when there are puddles and piles of snow everywhere--but you are able to be outside with just a sweatshirt!!

The kids and I grabbed sweatshirts and headed out to the puddles and piles of snow. It was wonderful! We went for a walk and played on the swingset. The fresh air on my skin and the giggle of my children felt invigorating...thawing, even. While I know there will be many more days when I need my winter coat and there might even be actual inches of fresh snow on the ground, I know the days when I was can wear my Toms and no socks are coming soon.

Thoughts on Potty Training

A while back, my youngest child (almost 2 1/2) started showing signs of being potty-trained. She was ready long before I was. I mean, she is my BABY...my last baby. Sigh. She was ready, and so, here we go. I checked the calendar for a clear weekend, picked one and started talking up how cool it is to go on the potty. 

The day arrived. As I expected, the first 2 1/2 days were rough. We had to start after naptime that time due to dentist appointments and an unexpected visit to the clinic for a rapid strep test for my oldest son. After her napped, I excited explained she would be going on the potty now! She chose some princess panties and she was ready to go. Shortly after that, I had to leave as I had plans to go to Costco with a friend from work to get supplies for Literacy Night. I turned the reigns over to my husband, made sure he had plenty of princess panties for her and off I went. It went as well as you could expect on the first day of potty training. She peed on everything! He sent me texts for every accident. She went through six pairs of panties in those 3 hours. One of last texts included, "This is hard." I giggled a little. I reassured him that this was the hardest part...he hadn't really experienced this part when we potty-trained our sons. By the end of the second day, just like with the boys, I started thinking, "This was a terrible idea. Maybe she isn't ready." And then, towards the end of that third day (just like her big brother), the idea of peeing on the potty started to click!! She started to figure it out! It was getting better! After 5 days of potty-training, she went the whole day without an accident!! Yes! Less laundry! She was getting there! Today we will be leaving the house and Amelia will be wearing underwear. No safety diaper. Extra clothes packed. I think she is ready. As far as me, well, fake it until you make it, right? 

More thoughts on my last baby another day. 

Poems in the Attic

About a month ago, I attended the Wisconsin State Reading Association conference. This is like Disney World for reading teachers--at least it is for THIS reading teacher. I have seen so many incredible teachers and writers at these events. Last year, I was able to tell Donalyn Miller that she is my idol AND I got my picture taken with her. It is safe to say I geek out a little bit. One of my favorite presentations to attend at the conference is the presentation of the best books published that year by the Cooperative Children's Book Center.

 One of the books presented was Poems in the Attic by Nikki Grimes. This book tells the story of a young girl who finds poems her mother wrote when she was a little girl in her grandmother's attic. The mother's poems tell about all the places she lived as a little girl. Her father was in the Air Force and they moved all over the word, including Alaska, North Carolina, New Mexico, and Japan. The little girl learns about her mother and responds by writing her own poems and then presents her mother with a gift of the poems she wrote as a girl along with her own poems. It is a beautiful story of family. The book switches back and forth between the mother's poems written in tanka form and the young girl's poems written in free verse.

What drew me to this book right away was the connection I have with the girl's mother. I, too, grew up as an "Air Force brat" and moved around quite a bit with my family. We moved from Michigan to Utah to Iceland to Las Vegas. I was sixteen when my father retired from the Air Force and we moved to Wisconsin. As I was listening to this book yesterday (I checked out the audio version), I was able to connect to the mother and how it felt to move and make new friends and start over. I remember exploring the grocery store in Iceland with my family and discovering a full sheep's head in the meat section. This was quite traumatic for my eight-year-old self.  We were in Iceland for almost two years, and I missed my grandma so much and wanted more than anything for her to visit. I remember starting a new school in Las Vegas and it feeling so strange that the classroom doors and hallways were outside. Weird.  My parents took us to explore our new home, no matter where it was. We explored mountains in Utah and saw the beaches in Iceland. We spent weekends at Lake Mead and walked the strip in Las Vegas.

Many people have asked me if it was hard moving around so much as a child. Sure it was sometimes, but I didn't know any different. I know there are benefits to growing up in one place and having those roots in a community, there are also great benefits to living in many places. My brother and I grew up knowing the world is a big place. We got to see different places and meet different people.  I ate kimchi when I was seven, and I used to love it when the neighbor, who was Thai, would bring fried rice over for me. And no matter where we lived, we had roots because we had our parents. They gave us special memories and experiences. I wouldn't change anything about the way I grew up. It gave me a wider world view and I wouldn't trade in those experiences for anything.