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Monday, September 28, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Chapter 2: Life is still good even when it's bad
OK...so after being a homemaker for four years, I have to go back to work. Due to the current state of affairs, finding a job has proven to be a difficult task. I don't need to tell you that "homemaker" screams "not qualified" on my resume. Regardless, I am still searching for that one activity that is going to tear me away from my kids and home for 50-60 hours a week, leaving me with just enough money (hopefully) to pay my bills and provide me with enough discretionary income to justify a somewhat modest bottle of wine when I desperately need one.
In the meantime, my plan is to earn a little cash while enhancing my qualifications and filling the gap in the timeline of my employment history. Which brings me to today: September 16, 2009. Today was my first day as a substitute teacher. Central Elementary school has been my second home for the last 6 years. In one way or another, I have volunteered my services for the enrichment of my children and the children of our community....a very worthy cause. Now I actually get paid for it. My first assignment: Mrs. Mason's second grade class, which is also, coincidentally, my 7 year-old daughter's class.
Our morning started off great and I remember thinking "this is actually fun". The children really seemed interested in learning and sharing. I was amazed at their intelligence and the sequence of their thoughts. Geography was particularly fun, with children asking questions spurring conversations about government and taxes and property...who would have ever thought a seven year old would want to know why the US government wanted to purchase the great state of Alaska, especially when it's so far away?
The second grade class was generally very well behaved, especially considering it was the start of a new school year. My daughter, Carleigh was especially helpful in secretly advising me of Mrs. Mason's classroom rules. Honestly, I was a little uncertain how she would act with her mother as the "sub". (Carleigh is never dramatic or demanding.) Today, she let me see a different side of her personality. I was amazed at how different she acted in the presence of her peers. The Carleigh I know so well was lost in the shadow of this child that sat, respectfully in her seat, and raised her hand when appropriate.
The afternoon progressed quickly; before long, I was shuffling the kids outside for afternoon recess. I was busy reviewing lesson plans for the remainder of the day when Carleigh, escorted by miss Morgan J., returned to the room. Carleigh's hair was messed up, pieces of dirt and grass stuck to her head and clothes. She was sobbing and holding her right arm. Morgan explained that she had fallen off the monkey bars and landed on her arm. She seemed very concerned and agreed to walk Carleigh down to the office while I retrieved the students from recess. Assuming Carleigh was taking advantage of this particular situation, I had convinced myself that she was fine and advised her she needed to return to class. As I tried to instruct the remaining 45 minutes of class, Carleigh quietly whimpered in her seat while holding an ice pack on her arm. This poor child will probably never forget those 45 minutes the rest of her life....scarred by the loathsome, cold and uncaring substitute teacher (a.k.a., her mom).
During those last 45 minutes of class, I slowly realized that this poor child might really be hurt. As this dawned on me, I found a moment during the chaos of packing up for the day to actually examine my child's injured arm. Guess what? Yup....swollen and tender to the touch. Now, I'm sure some of you might be able to understand the feeling that overwhelmed me at that moment. But to actually put it into words is proving to be much more difficult than I thought. Let's see....schmuck? How about cretin? You might even have a better word to describe me...
Amazingly, in her eyes I am still her mom.
(And yes, after hours in the emergency room waiting for the consult of a specialist, we discovered she indeed had suffered a broken arm.)
In the meantime, my plan is to earn a little cash while enhancing my qualifications and filling the gap in the timeline of my employment history. Which brings me to today: September 16, 2009. Today was my first day as a substitute teacher. Central Elementary school has been my second home for the last 6 years. In one way or another, I have volunteered my services for the enrichment of my children and the children of our community....a very worthy cause. Now I actually get paid for it. My first assignment: Mrs. Mason's second grade class, which is also, coincidentally, my 7 year-old daughter's class.
Our morning started off great and I remember thinking "this is actually fun". The children really seemed interested in learning and sharing. I was amazed at their intelligence and the sequence of their thoughts. Geography was particularly fun, with children asking questions spurring conversations about government and taxes and property...who would have ever thought a seven year old would want to know why the US government wanted to purchase the great state of Alaska, especially when it's so far away?
The second grade class was generally very well behaved, especially considering it was the start of a new school year. My daughter, Carleigh was especially helpful in secretly advising me of Mrs. Mason's classroom rules. Honestly, I was a little uncertain how she would act with her mother as the "sub". (Carleigh is never dramatic or demanding.) Today, she let me see a different side of her personality. I was amazed at how different she acted in the presence of her peers. The Carleigh I know so well was lost in the shadow of this child that sat, respectfully in her seat, and raised her hand when appropriate.
The afternoon progressed quickly; before long, I was shuffling the kids outside for afternoon recess. I was busy reviewing lesson plans for the remainder of the day when Carleigh, escorted by miss Morgan J., returned to the room. Carleigh's hair was messed up, pieces of dirt and grass stuck to her head and clothes. She was sobbing and holding her right arm. Morgan explained that she had fallen off the monkey bars and landed on her arm. She seemed very concerned and agreed to walk Carleigh down to the office while I retrieved the students from recess. Assuming Carleigh was taking advantage of this particular situation, I had convinced myself that she was fine and advised her she needed to return to class. As I tried to instruct the remaining 45 minutes of class, Carleigh quietly whimpered in her seat while holding an ice pack on her arm. This poor child will probably never forget those 45 minutes the rest of her life....scarred by the loathsome, cold and uncaring substitute teacher (a.k.a., her mom).
During those last 45 minutes of class, I slowly realized that this poor child might really be hurt. As this dawned on me, I found a moment during the chaos of packing up for the day to actually examine my child's injured arm. Guess what? Yup....swollen and tender to the touch. Now, I'm sure some of you might be able to understand the feeling that overwhelmed me at that moment. But to actually put it into words is proving to be much more difficult than I thought. Let's see....schmuck? How about cretin? You might even have a better word to describe me...
Amazingly, in her eyes I am still her mom.
(And yes, after hours in the emergency room waiting for the consult of a specialist, we discovered she indeed had suffered a broken arm.)
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Weekend with Kids and Gracie in Northern Michigan
I've long since felt a calling from the North. After living in Traverse City for a year while starting my pharmaceutical sales career, I fell in love with Northern Michigan. Nowadays, it brings a sense of calm, a sense of home. After all, it was here that I started to discover myself after a traumatic divorce. The peninsulas and bay offered tranquility and driving past orchards with roadside fruit stands were consistently distracting and tempting. Lasting friendships were made and are still cherished today.
My kids, my dog and I answered the call last weekend. We set out Saturday morning to escape the rain down here. The kids entertained themselves watching movies while I tried to unwind from the stress of the earlier week. Our plan was to try to find a cheap hotel with a pool in the Sleeping Bear Dunes area and to go fishing. Unfortunately, rain dampened any hopes of outdoor activities; and finding a hotel with a pool and pet access proved more difficult than expected. We finally decided to head toward Traverse City and the plethora of hotels.
The first hotel we checked out was far too expensive and didn't allow pets. Sitting in the parking lot of that hotel on the corner of South Airport Road and US 31 is where the fun begins. While the kids are playing in the lawn of the hotel, I try to locate a place to reside for the evening via cell phone and local directory. Obviously distracted, I didn't notice that Gracie, our 4-year old Golden Retriever with a knack for escape, had gotten out of the van. She proceeded to run around the back of the hotel as I noticed her tail disappear around the corner through my rear-view mirror. Chloe is still strapped in her car seat in the car while Morgan, Chandler and Carleigh are chasing the elusive fluffy red Houdini. I join the chase as Gracie stops traffic close to the busy intersection, cars honking with passengers gawking and scowling. A kind woman and her daughter stop to help in the chase as I return to the van to tend to Chloe. Fortunately, she is unaware of the drama unraveling around her as I drive the car across the parking lot to where the other kids are still in pursuit of our beloved canine. Jumping out of the car, I advise Morgan to go back and sit with her sister while I assist the others in the catch. Who knew we'd be fishing for dogs? Our bait proved unworthy as she fled across the street to water the wildflowers. Eventually, the daughter of the kind woman who stopped to assist coaxed our "best friend" to return where we all heaved a sigh of relief. I gratefully thanked the women for stopping to help as Chandler surprisingly looks down at his feet to discover a large petoskey stone. Now, we have a special memento as we will always remember that time in Traverse City when...
Sounds crazy, I know...but the drama doesn't end there. Upon returning to the van, I find Morgan in tears, obviously very upset. I assume her demeanor is a result of the potential loss of her canine friend and I proceed to try to sooth her fear. Through tears and frustration, she explains that she thought Chloe was kidnapped and the car stolen. In the mass confusion immediately following Gracie's escape, I forgot to tell Morgan that I had moved the van across the parking lot; she had returned to our original parking location to take care of her sister only to find the van and Chloe missing. I can't imagine how she must have felt, but was deeply sympathetic as we together picked some beautiful flowers growing wild and free in the ditch.
Crisis adverted, we finally located a hotel with pet access and suited up for a dip in the pool. Sunday morning sunshine greeted us as we took advantage of continental breakfast and a quick swim in the pool before checking out. My longtime favorite, Good Harbor Coffee House, provided delicious scones for my freezer and we also toured the beautiful Munson Manor before leaving town and heading for the peninsula. I was grateful for the brief visit with the talented tour guide and my beloved friend, Michelle.
Our time in Fishtown was brief since Morgan and Chandler deemed it unworthy of casting. Now I'm no fishing expert, but I assume the nickname "Fishtown" must mean something, so I try to encourage the children to stay and explore. I lost this battle and we continue driving south to Sleeping Bear Dunes National Park, where the kids are excited to get another stamp in their National Parks Passport. I wait at the bottom of the dune with Gracie, securely leashed, watching my kids ascend. Regretfully, I realize I never told Chloe to run down slowly as I watch her tumble head over heals as she gathers far too much speed. As I run up the face of the dune I am assisted again by two strangers who are kind enough to gather my daughter in their arms until I arrive, more than slightly winded. Carefully, I wipe the sand from her eyes and mouth as I try to sooth her with hugs and kisses. All is forgotten as we near the bottom where Morgan, Chandler, Carleigh and Gracie wait to ascend once again....this time with Mom to hold their hands.
My kids, my dog and I answered the call last weekend. We set out Saturday morning to escape the rain down here. The kids entertained themselves watching movies while I tried to unwind from the stress of the earlier week. Our plan was to try to find a cheap hotel with a pool in the Sleeping Bear Dunes area and to go fishing. Unfortunately, rain dampened any hopes of outdoor activities; and finding a hotel with a pool and pet access proved more difficult than expected. We finally decided to head toward Traverse City and the plethora of hotels.
The first hotel we checked out was far too expensive and didn't allow pets. Sitting in the parking lot of that hotel on the corner of South Airport Road and US 31 is where the fun begins. While the kids are playing in the lawn of the hotel, I try to locate a place to reside for the evening via cell phone and local directory. Obviously distracted, I didn't notice that Gracie, our 4-year old Golden Retriever with a knack for escape, had gotten out of the van. She proceeded to run around the back of the hotel as I noticed her tail disappear around the corner through my rear-view mirror. Chloe is still strapped in her car seat in the car while Morgan, Chandler and Carleigh are chasing the elusive fluffy red Houdini. I join the chase as Gracie stops traffic close to the busy intersection, cars honking with passengers gawking and scowling. A kind woman and her daughter stop to help in the chase as I return to the van to tend to Chloe. Fortunately, she is unaware of the drama unraveling around her as I drive the car across the parking lot to where the other kids are still in pursuit of our beloved canine. Jumping out of the car, I advise Morgan to go back and sit with her sister while I assist the others in the catch. Who knew we'd be fishing for dogs? Our bait proved unworthy as she fled across the street to water the wildflowers. Eventually, the daughter of the kind woman who stopped to assist coaxed our "best friend" to return where we all heaved a sigh of relief. I gratefully thanked the women for stopping to help as Chandler surprisingly looks down at his feet to discover a large petoskey stone. Now, we have a special memento as we will always remember that time in Traverse City when...
Sounds crazy, I know...but the drama doesn't end there. Upon returning to the van, I find Morgan in tears, obviously very upset. I assume her demeanor is a result of the potential loss of her canine friend and I proceed to try to sooth her fear. Through tears and frustration, she explains that she thought Chloe was kidnapped and the car stolen. In the mass confusion immediately following Gracie's escape, I forgot to tell Morgan that I had moved the van across the parking lot; she had returned to our original parking location to take care of her sister only to find the van and Chloe missing. I can't imagine how she must have felt, but was deeply sympathetic as we together picked some beautiful flowers growing wild and free in the ditch.
Crisis adverted, we finally located a hotel with pet access and suited up for a dip in the pool. Sunday morning sunshine greeted us as we took advantage of continental breakfast and a quick swim in the pool before checking out. My longtime favorite, Good Harbor Coffee House, provided delicious scones for my freezer and we also toured the beautiful Munson Manor before leaving town and heading for the peninsula. I was grateful for the brief visit with the talented tour guide and my beloved friend, Michelle.
Our time in Fishtown was brief since Morgan and Chandler deemed it unworthy of casting. Now I'm no fishing expert, but I assume the nickname "Fishtown" must mean something, so I try to encourage the children to stay and explore. I lost this battle and we continue driving south to Sleeping Bear Dunes National Park, where the kids are excited to get another stamp in their National Parks Passport. I wait at the bottom of the dune with Gracie, securely leashed, watching my kids ascend. Regretfully, I realize I never told Chloe to run down slowly as I watch her tumble head over heals as she gathers far too much speed. As I run up the face of the dune I am assisted again by two strangers who are kind enough to gather my daughter in their arms until I arrive, more than slightly winded. Carefully, I wipe the sand from her eyes and mouth as I try to sooth her with hugs and kisses. All is forgotten as we near the bottom where Morgan, Chandler, Carleigh and Gracie wait to ascend once again....this time with Mom to hold their hands.
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