Writing Challenge Day 3: A Pile of Papers

Prompts from here.  PS - this is my first attempt at poetry.  Be nice. :) Inspired by my messy teacher life. 

My life is just a pile of papers,
Unsorted and disordered.
Each person adds another piece
And onward up it goes.
They say, "This mess should have more form!
It should be organized!"
But I know each and every piece,
I smile and say, "It's mine".

Writing Challenge Day 2: "In the Shade" Original Date: October 28, 2014

Again, you can join me in my writing challenge, using the prompts here.  Constructive criticism and feedback welcome!

There were, he decided, a great number of people missing out on one of life's greatest pleasures.  The gentle breeze ruffled his hair, and in the distance, he could hear a dog barking.  Nearby, children screeched and giggled, his own among them, as they chased each other through the trees.  Situated comfortably on a large quilt, he watched as a young boy and his mother guided a vibrant red kite through the sky.  Yes, he pitied the poor souls trapped in their offices and cyber worlds.  Birds chirped and squirrels chattered.  Overhead, a leafy, green canopy sheltered him from the brilliance of the sun.  No clouds littered the sky on this most glorious of days.  The dog at his feet sighed and moved into a more comfortable position.  All around him lay the magic of nature.  As the dark haired girl ran up to him, a smile lighting up her face, he knew beyond a doubt there was no better way to spend a day than in the park, in the shade.

Writing Challenge Day 1: "It's futile" (Original Date: October 27, 2014)

Introduction: So I am trying to improve my writing and hopefully, try out some new styles and genres. So in addition to my drawing challenge, I have also challenged myself to a year long writing challenge in which I will write one entry/day. I'm going WAY out of my comfort zone posting this online, but I'm hoping this gives me a little inspiration to try harder.   Criticism and compliments welcome, as well as suggestions.  I am getting my prompts from another blog: here.  Enjoy - and PLEASE leave feedback!

"It's futile"

Hope.  Who can argue whether its learned or ingrained in our consciousness when born?  ( I'm quite sure it has been argued...extensively.)  For myself, it is an integral part of my daily life.  The hope that we have cheeseburgers for dinner, or just that today will turn out okay.  From there, it goes deeper into a realm that I sometimes don't fully understand myself.  My hopes for my children, myself, friends, the world.  I do not always give them conscious thought.  It arrives, unbidden, to keep me persevering.  But what if that hope is dashed?  What kind of conditions have to be in place to make someone become completely devoid of hope?  Is it years of oppression?  Overwhelming loneliness?  What makes a child's smile disappear?  What makes a frustrated adult walk away from a life he's built for years?  What makes thousands end it all within seconds?  It is a simple thought.  One that, given time and food for growth can kill hope and destroy worlds.  It is receiving that failing grade one more time.  Loving the wrong person yet again.  Being reminded that you didn't live up to expectations.  The whisper of doubt that steals joy: "It is futile."

All in Vain

I'm not even going to bother apologizing for "preaching" at you in this post.  I almost began with "usually I keep this stuff to myself, but...", BUT this time I'm not going to.  Why?  Because I strongly feel this needs to be said.  This is a long post, and there is no audio version, but stick with me.

Let's begin with this - I am truly blessed to work in a school that not only allows but encourages personal Bible study.  Over the summer, I began reading four chapters a day - Proverbs, Psalms, Old Testament, New Testament - at the recommendation of our pastor. When school started, I was pretty sure I'd forget or get busy and something would interrupt my new habit.  However, quite the opposite happened.  I actually felt inspired to read more.  So, I've been slowly making my way through Psalms all summer.  And I'll be honest, there were days I DID forget, so I'm just now getting around to Psalm 73.  And wow....I felt blown away by it when I read it this morning.  And for you to understand why, there's a back story you have to understand.

I have always felt like I was a "by the rules" kind of gal.  I DON'T enjoy getting in trouble and I ALWAYS get caught.  Either my mom was just that good, or I'm just horrible at hiding things.  So, around my senior year in high school, I decided life would just be simpler for me to go along with the rules, even if I didn't like them.  It beat getting punished.  I'm not saying that to brag, because there were still SEVERAL rules I did break.  But the big ones - not staying out late/sneaking out, going to school, not drinking, smoking, etc.  I could do those easy.  And I became very prideful of it.  So much so that I now recognize that PRIDE is my weakness.  For my Bible study friends - I would've made an A-list Pharisee.  ((For those of you who don't know - that's not a good thing.))

Life went on - I went to college. Believe it or not, I had a few offers to dinner and such but they usually fell flat.  No one seemed to be on the same page in life as me and so I was pretty much flying solo.  Solo gets boring and lonely REALLY fast.  Like all young adults, I felt the pressure of having never seriously dated and feeling like a loser because of it.  So I prayed that God would send me the man He wanted me to marry.  {Enter my ex from stage left}

Everything seemed to fall into place.  My older self now would like to go slap former me and say "If it's too good to be true, RUN AWAY!!!" I fell in love.  Hard core.  Head over Heels.  Forsaking all others (literally).  I was SURE he was the one.  I laid out all my "rules" to him from the beginning.  Rules I had been taught and taken from the Bible and he assured me he was happy to comply with each and every one.

Long story cut short - we got married.  Had two beautiful kids.  And a month after the second, my world fell apart.  So many lies and manipulations that while I had not been blind to, I had chosen to ignore or not question.  And suddenly it was over.  The guy I married was a complete stranger with a whole life I knew nothing about.  Several of you witnessed the fall-out first hand.  And for those of you who didn't, it was NOT pretty.  While every rule I had put in place was broken and every moral standard I had raised was brought low, he seemed to prosper.  He found someone new, better, more attractive....not me.  He got a life free of responsibility - left to be "fun dad" every other weekend and never a chance for the kids to see his faults.

To put it bluntly, this infuriated me.  I was angry that I, doing everything I knew was right to do, got screwed.  ((gotta love slang, right?))  I was angry with my ex, myself, but mostly God.  I had no desire to go to Church and hear about a God who would bless you if you just listened to him.  I didn't want to see people who would judge me because of my divorce that I chose happily.

As 2013 came to a close, my anger only grew.  Every time we spoke on the phone, it dissolved into angry arguments, threats from him, and generally just boiled down to how happy HE was that we were through.  Regardless, I was determined to make 2014 a better year for myself and the kids.  Even though I didn't want to go to church, I went anyways, because it was the right thing to do.  (And partially, because it made me better than him.)  But I was having a hard time believing what I was hearing.  To me, it looked like if God was still out there, he was perfectly ok with his people getting stepped on and everyone else mocking him and living well.  And this is only the surface of how I really felt.  I don't think I could adequately put my feelings into words.  Things were only getting worse.  I had one kid going through meltdowns every other week and another who did not know her own father.  When I did speak to their father, I just got lies I was too tired to argue about anymore.  He was winning.  And I was quickly losing my desire to even care anymore.  Because caring hurt and it was a lot easier to shut it off.  I felt betrayed by God and I was focusing my anger on Him for allowing this to even happen in the first place.

That all changed in March.  When suddenly, the lies and destruction finally caught up to him.  I don't mean this to sound as haughty as it does, though at the time, I probably took a little too much satisfaction from his downfall. Around the same time, I truly felt like God was telling me that I needed to drop my anger issues, and the ONLY way that was going to happen?  Pray for my ex.  Love him in Christ.  And THAT was the bigger change.  The miracle of the whole situation.  It takes a lot for me to embrace change.  And I had to be figuratively knocked on the head with a 2x4 to realize that my anger wasn't working.  My list of grievances wasn't helping me.  It wasn't doing ANYTHING but making me a bitter, angry, sinful person.  And with the grace of God and some good honest talks with friends and family, I was able to let that go.  I realized that one person's bad choices doesn't mean that God doesn't care.  It's the opposite.  He loves us so much that he sustains us and provides for us even when we don't hold up our end of the bargain.  I had done everything but verbally say "there is no God", and I was very close to that point.  But I came out of this knowing that God is very much real and had been my strength and refuge the whole time in a situation where things could have gotten a lot worse.  My tattoo says, "My refuge into eternity".  When I got it, it was because of the historical significance - Sophie Scholl's last words.  It means so much more now.  God IS my refuge into eternity.  He was protected me in EVERYTHING and never once gave up on me - even when I gave up on Him.

Here's what I read this morning.  Psalm 73.  I've high-lighted the parts that stood out to me:

A Psalm of Asaph. Truly God is good to Israel, to those who are pure in heart. But as for me, my feet had almost stumbled, my steps had nearly slipped. For I was envious of the arrogant when I saw the prosperity of the wicked. For they have no pangs until death; their bodies are fat and sleek. They are not in trouble as others are; they are not stricken like the rest of mankind. Therefore pride is their necklace; violence covers them as a garment. Their eyes swell out through fatness; their hearts overflow with follies. They scoff and speak with malice; loftily they threaten oppression. They set their mouths against the heavens, and their tongue struts through the earth. Therefore his people turn back to them, and find no fault in them. And they say, “How can God know? Is there knowledge in the Most High?” Behold, these are the wicked; always at ease, they increase in riches. All in vain have I kept my heart clean and washed my hands in innocence. For all the day long I have been stricken and rebuked every morning. If I had said, “I will speak thus,” I would have betrayed the generation of your children. But when I thought how to understand this, it seemed to me a wearisome task, until I went into the sanctuary of God; then I discerned their end. Truly you set them in slippery places; you make them fall to ruin. How they are destroyed in a moment, swept away utterly by terrors! Like a dream when one awakes, O Lord, when you rouse yourself, you despise them as phantoms. When my soul was embittered, when I was pricked in heart, I was brutish and ignorant; I was like a beast toward you. Nevertheless, I am continually with you; you hold my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will receive me to glory. Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. For behold, those who are far from you shall perish; you put an end to everyone who is unfaithful to you. But for me it is good to be near God; I have made the Lord GOD my refuge, that I may tell of all your works. (Psalm 73 ESV)

It's My Anniversary!

Crazy to say, but this week marks the anniversary of the week that changed my life forever.  I recently downloaded the app Timehop and it's been interesting to see my posts from this time last year - before everything blew up.  And that's pretty much the best phrase for it.  You see, I've always heard you have to hit "rock bottom" before you can go up.  And this time last year - I hit rock bottom.  And then, because I'm a slow learner, I hit it over and over again in the year that followed.  And I'm not sure whether it's ironic or cyclical that this time last year, I was getting ready to attend an AP Conference and here I am - prepping for this year's conference.  I like to stay (for the most part) vague on why my marriage...imploded, but I thought the anniversary of its death would be a good time to reflect on the past year and what it has meant for me.

First, "2013 Christy" would never have been able to guess where I'd be today.  And that, my friends, is an awesome thing to be able to say.   Because while I've had to continually be thrown down over and over again, I am a much stronger person emotionally, spiritually, and even physically than I was last summer.  It all seems like a distant memory now, but I can remember everything about that week.  I remember the pain, the exhaustion, and fear - there was a LOT of fear.  But when I compare to where I am right now, at this moment, I can actually smile.  I know I had to go through that to get to here and have, dare I say it?  A pretty peaceful and successful life.

Second, this past year has proven to me over and over that I have the most amazing support group in the world.  My friends and family have been there every step of the way and have yet to say they are tired of talking to me.  And trust me, I  was tired of listening to me talk at some points. :) Chances are that you are the only people who read my blog anyways so I want to extend the biggest "thank you" I can across the cyber world.  It's in the dark times that you find out who your true friends are, and I not only kept the ones I had, but gained new ones as well.

Third, I can not put into words how humbled and grateful I am to God who opened my eyes to a lot of things that were pulling me in the wrong direction.  For the first time in my life, I feel like there is a purpose to me, my life, my actions.  It's not just a scramble to survive, it's a chance to make the world a better place.  Truth and love is all that really matters in the end, and I am glad that I went through these experiences so that I could learn that.

I know that it's not all peaches and cream from here on out.  (That being said, I'm still NOT divorced - yay Texas laws...) But I feel so much more equipped to handle what comes my way.  I am not the scared, hopeless girl I was last year.  For the first time EVER, I truly feel like an adult.  And I know 27 years is a long time to grow up, but I'm pretty confident I still beat some people.  I know a lot of you are now struggling with the same issues I have been dealing with and it's important for you to know that things do actually get better.  They work out - sometimes better than you had even dreamed of.   So keep up the fight and cross the finish line.  The race is worth the pain and doubt that you have to experience.  Life is beautiful, my friends.  Keep living it.

Father's Day

I wanted to do a Father's Day series, I really did.  But this past week has just been a tad chaotic, to say the least.  So this post may end up on the lengthy side.  You see, only one of these men is my ACTUAL father.  The rest are those who have definitely played a major role in my life and deserve the recognition.

First - my Daddy.  If you know my father, you quickly learn that he is a man of few, if any, words.   But over my lifetime, I have become quite adept at translating grunts and huffs of breath. :) My dad was never the outwardly expressive dad.  But just this morning, I sat thinking of how EVERY holiday (St. Paddy's, Valentine, Thanksgiving, etc.) he left us all a card and a piece of our favorite candy.  Without fail.  I still have the cards in a box somewhere.  He never wrote out long paragraphs.  Usually just a quick "Hope you have a good day, Love, Dad".  But I remember getting them from the time I was little bitty.  And it was enough.  I didn't need more than that - I enjoyed getting every single one and looked forward to it.  He sparked my love of history with his giant coffee table books on Vietnam (who makes coffee table books on a war??) and his sometimes strange, rambling stories on the "good ole days".  Summers meant a trip to visit his family where we would gather arrow heads and see the stock yards in Ft. Worth.  And I loved every minute of it.  Now he is PawPaw to my kids and a pretty good one at that - Oliver adores his PawPaw, and Layan has him wrapped around her finger.  And I am so happy that they have that relationship.

Next is my handsome PawPaw - Nowadays, (especially when I've let my anger get the best of me) I'm told I'm just like Mom and him.  I can remember a few times when I saw him really let someone have it.  But, for the most part, I remember the man who drove me to school every morning for ten years straight.  Who read Bambi to me in his chair and gave me peppermints at church.  I seriously had the best PawPaw ever and I think all of my siblings and cousins would agree. Every morning, he would make whatever we wanted for breakfast and he would even let me change out of the awful outfits Mom made me wear to school! (yuck)  There was honestly NOTHING he couldn't do.  I can remember the math problems he would solve for fun (obviously not inherited) and his handwriting.  He had beautiful handwriting.  Sure, he was a short fuse at times, but he was the literal center of our family for as long as I could remember.  I only wish my kids could have known him.

My Big Daddy (I'm not the first grandchild on either side - so blame other cousins for the names) - unfortunately, I was still very young when he passed away.  But my Big Daddy was the tallest man I knew.  He had knobby hands from arthritis but I remember making bullets with him and Dad in his garage. He smoked cigars and told stories of Dad getting into trouble as a kid.  Apparently the lack of words is inherited, because I don't remember him talking excessively.  But I can remember climbing up into his massive desk chair and watching Sesame Street.

Finally, there are a few fellas who need recognition for the roles they play in my kids' lives.  First, Papa Chad has really stepped up to be a part of the kids' lives.  He keeps Oliver in check and is Layan's Protector (which she knows - first sign of trouble = head for Papa Chad).  On that note, I'm pretty sure that Layan will not have a dating life in the future - because Papa Chad will scare them off... It's pretty awesome that he makes time for my kids: he listens to them, plays with them, threatens to take them into the pasture, and even pulls the occasional role of babysitter. I am so blessed to have him in our lives, and especially Layan's and Oliver's.

Then there is Uncle Phil - Oliver regularly tells me he is going to grow big-big like Uncle Phillip.  There's something pretty cool about a twenty-four year old guy who will roll around on the floor with two toddlers.  He's been pooped on, thrown up on, slept on and everything in between and keeps coming back for more.  When Uncle Phillip is around - it's adventure time, and I am thankful he plays the role of uncle well.




What I love about Father's Day is that you don't remember the pricey gifts or the amount of money your dad or the men in your life made.  You remember the time, the attention and the interactions you shared.  The values of hard work and dedication.  All THAT makes a father.  And it's something that I have spent a LOT of time thinking about. I'm so grateful for all of these men who understand what it means to a child to take a moment and notice them.  You guys rock! Happy Father's Day.

The End of the Chapter

This school year.  It has definitely been one I'll never forget.  But tomorrow is the LAST day for students.  I really thought that was enough.  But then I got the call I had been dreading - STAAR results.  Everyone in the state of Texas has an opinion on STAAR and I have yet to hear a good one. STAAR is supposed to measure student performance.  To prove whether or not a student has mastered the subject material. And while we can all agree that the accountability has to be there, we ALL agree that standardized tests are not the way to get it.  In fact, the ONLY ones who do are state legislators and Pearson.  Last year, my results were not stellar.  I ended the school year depressed, and feeling like a failure.  You see, whether we want to admit it or not, teachers are given ownership of their students' results...when they're bad.  When you succeed, you get a pat on the back, and you get to hear the accolades of what the district and everyone else did to get you there, even if you never see one other person in your room ALL YEAR LONG.  Or even worse, told that the test was easy - that must be why your students did well.

No one hesitated to come to me when the scores were less than perfect.  Where were my tutorial logs?  What did I do?  What was wrong - with me?  And there are teachers being confronted with those questions right now as we speak.  When I moved districts and entered one of the largest districts in the nation, it didn't take me long to figure out that this is a number game.  Produce the numbers or sink.  To compound this, I somehow landed a job at one of the up and coming schools in that district and it was crystal clear that the results - good or bad would be all on me.  Benchmark after benchmark, results came back that were not promising.  I mean, I got my first gray hair this year and I partially blame that stupid test.  I freaked out at home, got frustrated at work.  I was one massive hot mess.  I was in a new subject, teaching AP for the first time, and would be setting the bar for the school's first EOC on that level.  I know the students are more than a number.  I know I am more than a number.  But in the end, people I didn't know would look at a number on a piece of paper and decide if I was a good teacher and if my students were "smart".  (And THAT is what made me try for a spot at a private school.)

I am proud to report that 100% of my students passed.  I give them full credit.  Because by the time they took that test, I was emptied.  I had done everything in my power to get them ready and was still AFRAID that it wouldn't be enough.  The morning they took the STAAR, I prayed that God would just let them do they best they could and give me the courage to just accept whatever percentage came out of that.  I didn't want another year of sub-par scores on my record as a teacher.  I didn't want the students to have to face summer school and retests so they could graduate.  And I had secretly decided that a bad performance would mark the end of my teaching career, because the tests were showing I was not a "good" teacher.  I was going to use the next year to figure out a new career path.

I went through all this to say one thing - if your scores were not what you wanted or were expecting, this does NOT make you the failure.  It is a failure of the state system.  My desire to help students this year was no different than last year.  My knowledge of history was not greater (in fact, it was less - being my first year in U.S. and AP).  My teaching methods hadn't changed.  Students want to pass those tests.  There is not one student who goes into a state test and purposefully fails the test.  And they are no more failures than we (teachers) are when the scores are bad.  There are bad teachers, sure, but the STAAR doesn't point them out any better than the TAKS test did.  It just discourages those who DO care.  I also don't want to belittle success stories.  Those girls were obviously doing some hard, behind-the-scenes work to throw out a number like that, and I am beyond proud of them.

Finally the Weekend

This has been a long week, in every way possible. Thankfully, it wasn't anywhere near the drama I was going through a few months ago. We seemed to have settled in a peaceful period, no matter how brief it may be. The quiet, however, seems to have it's own challenges. Loneliness for one. And I recognize that to some extent that this is a self imposed exile but I'm starting to feel the cabin fever seeping in. Which is odd, because I'm hardly ever home. We are always on the go.  Lately, though, I feel like I have nothing new to say. The divorce? Not settled. Work? Not fun. The kids? Happy. I've had the feeling that I was starting to get boring but this week just confirmed it. I don't want to be the person that no one wants around because they just bring down the mood. As much as I try, however, I've become just that. 

The beginning of this week also brought me face to face with reality that even though things are starting to fall in place, I can't rewind time. My past is always there. And some mistakes will haunt you a life time. There will always be the nagging question of "what if?". And in my case, it was more damned if you do, damned if you don't. (At least from my perspective - two choices and both ended with "what if?") So these slightly pessimistic thoughts have left me wanting a little solitude and at the same time- hating it. This probably makes absolutely no sense, but I'm forcing myself to write. Hope you have a wonderful long weekend!

Looking Back

It is finally May!  I'm so excited that I'm not even bothering to hide it anymore.  Part of me wishes I was a time traveller and I could go back to myself a year ago and just give me a pat on the back.  I could not have ever imagined that I'd be where I am today.  Next week will be a BIG week for me.  I've got an interview that could lead to a very awesome job.  And that darn STAAR test is on Tuesday.  The end of next week will mean I only have TWO weeks left!  Nine months ago I thought this month would never come.  It's been a roller coaster of a school year.  For teachers, MAY is the end of the year.  Not December.  I feel a lot more closure when I pack up my room and leave for the summer.  And this year, I'm closing the door to my old life and starting a brand new one.  Not everything about this year was horrible.  I enjoy the majority of the girls I work with and have made some great new friends with the teachers I work with.  But this place was just a transition.  It began the year that would change my life.  Deciding to leave Hardin was the first leap.  It was my first break out of my comfort zone.  It gave me the courage to try new things.  That a risk could be worth it and good things could happen.  I needed that.  This year has taught me that I am strong enough.  I'm strong enough to be a single mom.  I'm strong enough to be a teacher without the awesome coworkers I had at Hardin.  I'm strong enough to drive to Houston five times a week and on the days I didn't go, deal with one of the hardest parts of my life - my divorce.  I haven't had a break.  Despite my attendance records, every day I was not at work, I was dealing with a lawyer, an ex or my sick kids.  I have every intention of making the most of this summer.  I'm going to make it to the mountains.  Even if it's just for the weekend.  I'm going to meet new people and bring the kids somewhere new.  This will not be a lazy summer.  I'm going to get to work on the house and finish my projects (and probably start some new ones...you know me).  I can't wait to get going.  Less than a month now....let the countdown begin.

Mother's Day Tribute Part 6: My BFF

I have covered several of my inspirations that are older than me, here's the first mom that is my age.  My beautiful friend, Leslie.  I can't tell you how excited I was when Leslie told me she and Charlie were expecting.  And then, 2 months later, I found out I was pregnant too!  We have gone through every part of motherhood together, and it is awesome (and not planned).  I have been surrounded by little kids for as long as I can remember. Leslie, was not.  I can remember going to visit her and Ro for the first time and being bathed in germ-X.  Oh, and this little baby turned my BFF into a woman who would cry at the drop of a pin.  I kid you not.  Our pregnancies were super fun.  She was crying and I threw up.  :) But then, both the boys were here and they were oh, so epic.  It's been a blast watching my best friend take on the role of mom.  She totally rocks at it too.  I also have fun comparing our parenting styles.  It only goes to prove that there is no one right way to parent.  Leslie is patient, attentive and always on the look out for ways she can help her son be a better person.  She makes about 85% of his food from scratch!!! And makes me totally jealous when she can get him to eat a bowl of gumbo.  (Meanwhile, I'm celebrating ONE bite of a chicken nugget)  Most of the time, we sit around and wonder when we got old enough to have kids, and what the heck happened to the two teenagers that would stay up too late and get in trouble.  But a lot of the time, I just stand in awe of all that she accomplishes.  She is so talented.  Super mom, awesome cook, great wife, and best friend on the planet.  Did I mention she owns a great coffee shop/bakery??? (#brewedawakening #govisitnow)   I'm so thrilled that I can force my son to be Ro's friend and not have to worry about what he's doing or who he's with.   I look forward to seeing both of them grow up into the awesome young men they will be some day.  Love you, Leslie!  You're amazing.

Mother's Day Tribute Part 5: the Greats

I'm writing this series completely from memory.  In other words, my mom and family are only chiming in after they are written and published.  I'm trying to take a good look at what I remember from each person and really evaluate what I have learned from them. The next three women are together because I a. wasn't as close as I'd like to be to them or b. Didn't spend enough time because of their age and mine.

First, my great grandma Nola.  By the time I came along, she had already raised kids and grandkids, and it was her turn to be taken care of.  I remember spending time at her house while Mom helped watch her. She didn't like the smell of popcorn so we would eat it outside in her garage at night.  I distinctly remember the smell of bengay in her house but this could just be my imagination.  I didn't know her well personally.  I do know the people she raised and the stories they tell lead me to believe she was a tough cookie who kept her family in line and taught them the value of a hard day's work.  My PawPaw was her baby boy and the typical Mama's boy if there ever was one.  He built a house right next to hers and took care of her and his family together.  All the family tells me that Mom and PawPaw were just like her, so I'm going to interpret that as sharp, honest and hard working.  I do know she made our home what it is today.  We enjoy beautiful oak trees and the most wonderful piece of land in the world because of their dedication and hard work, and that's a legacy to pass on.

Next - Great Grandma Granny. No, I have no idea why she needed two titles.  I was not the first grandchild to come along so she was already named. I did have the pleasure of knowing her.  Everyone says I have her eyes.  My grandma, Mildred, could speak French and was local nobility.  She and my great-grandfather were some of the old rice farmers who made this area the rice capital of the US.  I remember going over to her house as a kid and admiring her doll collection.  She would slice apples for me and sprinkle them with salt while she made gumbo and talked to MawMaw.  My great grandfather died young, and I never met him.  But together they had 7 kids, who all had a couple of kids themselves, and are, to this day, one of the largest families in the area.  I have cousins I have never met and a family reunion looks more like a rally.  By the time I showed up, she was married to Leon, who would always call me "my girl" in his thick French accent and tell me all kinds of stories.  I treasure my heritage from that side of the family.  It gives me roots and culture and I love it.  I'm not one of the many Americans who don't know their cultural ties - I wear it proudly and remember Granny's grace and charm.

Finally, there is Nanny.  Nanny isn't my grandma, but she is the kids' great-grandma. Thankfully, she is still around and I have every intention of getting to know her.  This gal has some spunk.  I have never seen her down.  She is always cheery and wearing a grin.  She loves each of her grandchildren and dotes on them like a mother hen.  She, unfortunately, lives far away so we don't get to see her as often as we would like.  But I have seen the impact she has on her family.  She is a hard worker who likes to laugh.  She, too, has taken care of children and grandchildren, and has never slowed down.  I always enjoy her visits and cannot wait for her to meet Layan.  I know Matt loved her dearly and all of her grandchildren do.  Everyone who knows her, loves her.  And I like to think Layan has her cheery demeanor.

Mother's Day Tribute Part 4: My Namesake

My family has a ton of funny stories.  We are funny people.  Or maybe funny looking lol.  I remember always being amused as a kid when people were surprised that I have a dad and yes, he lives with us.  My dad makes quiet people look talkative.  Even less people know that I did know my paternal grandparents.  They're about as talkative as he is.  This series is a tribute to the mothers in my life, so I will save Big Daddy for another day.  My MeeMaw was quite the character.  A staunch Church of Christ member, I can remember getting pamphlets from her on every visit.  We went to her church at least once a visit and more if there was a ladies' meeting or domino tournament.

Speaking of dominos...MeeMaw taught me everything I know about being an original gamer.  The woman had a collection of board games that would make a museum curator drool. There was none of this "everyone's a winner" foolishness.  Oh no.  I remember being very young (5...maybe 6) and her killing off my pieces one by one and laughing.  It was go big or go home...crying.  Evenings were filled with dominos, Pollyanna, Skip-bo, Uno, and all other kinds of card/board games.  We often played partners, with MeeMaw pairing up with my brother because of his only boy status.

You see, the Thomas clan had one boy - my dad.  He had one biological son - my brother.  And because my grandmother was firmly planted in the 1940s, Phillip got an honored spot in the family because he would carry on the family name.  This was the only redeeming factor of my father's second (gasp!) marriage.  She made no secret that she did not approve of divorce or my parents' marriage after a divorce.  This, and her loyalty to family blood lines always made for some fun visits when Mom visited with us. My name is Christy.  Mom swears I was named for Christ.  And when they told my MeeMaw, they were shocked to discover a long held secret.  Her name was Christine!  My grandmother had always gone by the name Flogene (don't ask - I have no idea).  Turns out her legal name was Christine.  I can only imagine what was going on in Mom's head - putting all that time into picking THE perfect name only to discover you had accidentally copied a family name. haha!

My MeeMaw was a hard woman to crack.  To be perfectly honest, I found it hard to relate to her as a kid.  But now that I'm older, I have grown to appreciate a lot of things for her.  She was loyal to God first, family second.  She taught me a lot about family honor and to take pride in being a Thomas.  She transplanted a love of gardening and keeping plants and animals.  She loved her old collie, Tina, till the very end.  She was the epitome of southern hospitality - always ready with tea and baked goodies.  Sharp as a whip.  I sometimes think I get some of my wit from her.  She loved a good competition and had a beautiful smile.  I don't have a digital copy of a picture to share with you, but take my word - beautiful.  She stood by her family through tough times.  She was a child of the Great Depression and always reminded us to be wise with our money.  She began every letter "My dearest, darling granddaughter", and wrote me loyally every month until her health began to fail.  I hope one day I make her proud to carry the family memories onto my children.

Mother's Day Tribute Part 3: My MawMaw

My students find it hilarious that I have a MawMaw and I am willing to call her that in public.  It doesn't bother me in the least.  My MawMaw is one cool chick, which is why she is making an appearance on my blog.  My MawMaw has always been like a second mom to me.  She helped raise me and my siblings from day 1.  Not in the "my parents are too busy for me so the grandparents must take over" kind of way.  She literally lives next door.  So, my childhood was about evenly split between my house and hers.  Like all good grandparents, she is a mixture of leniency and discipline.  She has never hesitated to put us in our place.  I remember her popping me on the back of the leg with a fly swatter.  WATCH OUT CPS! At the same time, her house was THE place to be on the weekends.  We each had a night - mine was Saturday.  Saturday night at sunset, I would walk over and we would go rent a movie and then pig out on junk food.  We would watch all kinds of stuff.  When it got too bad, she would hurry to run in front of the TV so I couldn't see whatever was happening.  The next morning, it was whatever I wanted for breakfast before I had to be back home in time for church.

There are so many good stories about my Mawmaw that I don't even know where to start.  Before our neighborhood got busy, we would stand out on her porch and look at the stars.  She would point out the abnormal ones and tell me they were UFOs.  Once I got old enough - I tried to convince her they were Russian spies.  ((We also can't talk about that on the phone - it may flag us with the government - for realz) During the Y2K scare, she had an entire sunroom/secret storehouse built on to store food for when the technology crashed.

My favorite stories are of her and my PawPaw.  In some of them, they were trying to wring each other necks and in others, two teenagers in the 50's falling in love.  I love looking at old pictures of them together.  They were both so beautiful. Inside and out - honest, stubborn, hard working and dedicated.  Both of them had their flaws and there were plenty of times they could've called it off, but they stuck it out and were married for almost 50 years.  And there has never been one doubt in my mind (despite all the stories of their fights and near-breakups) that my Mawmaw loved PawPaw as much as the day they got married.  She is the matriarch of our family.  We can all be mad at each other and every single one will go to her first.  She is our rock when things get tough and she is the one that keeps us connected to the family and to our roots.  It's because of her that we have rice at 90% of our meals (as all good rice families should) and the reason we always end up laying aside our differences to make peace.  I think I speak for the entire family when I saw we have the best Mawmaw there is and we can't imagine a world without her.

Mother's Day Tribute Part 2 - My Monster-in-Law

I like the phrase monster-in-law.  A lot.  It makes me giggle.  I have friends who have monsters-in-law and the horror stories they tell make me super glad to say I don't have one.  Instead, I have a friend, partner-in-crime and all around beautiful woman, who is sometimes the only person I will listen to when it comes to things I don't want to hear.  You see, some day in the near future (fingers-crossed (not for this reason)) we won't legally be related on paper anymore.  Which means this relationship is all the more special because she chooses to keep me in the family even though she doesn't have to.  I have the world's best mother in law.  My only regret is not getting to know her sooner.  Last year, I reached a point when I felt like I had no one else to turn to and she was the one who threw down whatever she was doing to come offer me a hug and smile.  When it felt like my world was falling apart, she was the first one to assure me that it was not, and that I wasn't alone.  From the very beginning, she has welcomed me into her heart and home, and has never said one negative thing to me.  (And there were times when I probably deserved it.)  It takes a whole different level of motherhood to be a good mother-in-law.  That's what's so awesome about Linda.  She doesn't have to love me, and being that I'm her youngest son's, soon to be ex-wife, society says that there are enough reasons to write me off and forget I exist.  I could be the crazy ex daughter-in-law she has to put up with to see the kids.  But I have never once felt that way.  Matt and I were together for six years, and from day one, she has always treated me like more than family - like a friend.  She was the mother figure I needed when I wouldn't listen to my own.  And I will never be able to express what that has meant to me.  I hope that I can learn from her example and remember this when Oliver (you know, 50 years from now) brings a girl home.   I pray that I can make her feel like one of the family and someone who is not just tolerated for the sake of family peace, but loved.  That's how I feel around my mother-in-law - that she genuinely just likes me for me.  And you don't find that everywhere.

The past year wasn't just rough on me.  Our entire family was split apart by this divorce and other external factors.  There were plenty of times when she could have gotten mad or tried to get even for something that went wrong, but the only reaction I ever witnessed was one of love and generosity.  I'm glad my kids have a role model to look up to in their Nana.  She has a lot to teach them and I look forward to learning from her myself.  Linda, thank you for everything.  It's quite possible that I would not have made it through 2013 without you.

PS - I had planned to do one a day, but I will be swamped tomorrow, so I went ahead and posted early.

Mother's Day Tribute Part 1

Mother's Day is just around the corner.  Every year, I try to think of something...some object... that would truly represent my appreciation and gratitude for my mom.  It's a tough job.  My mom is not a person easily impressed by objects.  She will appreciate the effort and thought that went into the gift, but there isn't any THING that she is just dying to have.  In addition, some of you know that the past year was one of those life changing years for me.  I didn't rebel in high school, so apparently, I decided to play catch up once I was older.  That year away from my family put a lot of things in perspective for me.  And with it, came someone new.  My awesome daughter.  There cannot be one shred of doubt in anyone's mind that I love my son with all my heart.  But holding that tiny girl for the first time opened my eyes to what it is to really be a woman and mom in this crazy world we live in.  And it's one of the things that pushed me back to where I needed to be - home.  So I'm doing a blogging series leading up to Mother's Day to pay tribute to the incredibly strong and beautiful women in my life who don't always get the credit they deserve, even from me.  More often than not, I'm using them as a verbal spring board or (rarely) punching bag when things get too much.  Despite my flaws and mistakes, they have shaped me into the person I am today.  And words will never be enough to repay their kindness and generosity of spirit. But it is a start.

What I love most about my mom, is that she is 100% mine and there is no one else in the world like her.  It's always hard for me to think up something to write in her birthday cards and such, which is strange because words come naturally for me.  I've given it a lot of thought over the past few days, and I've come to the conclusion that I have the most trouble expressing my feelings for her because there are so many things I want to say, that it's just hard to organize them into one paragraph or body of text that doesn't end up sounding like a crazy ramble.  My mom is the driving force that has pushed me every year of my life to do better than the last.  She's my biggest cheerleader, my safe zone, and the frying pan to my head when I need common sense knocked into me.  I didn't realize how much I had and the extent to which I needed her until I (foolishly) thought I could make it on my own.  Worst year of my life.

My mom has the biggest heart of anyone I know.  She takes kids in from any background and raises them the same way she raised me.  Seriously.  She never once treated them any differently.  Every child who enters her home will leave it with the knowledge that God, a good work ethic and a good sense of humor will fix every problem we have.  She's not known for her subtlety, so never ask her a question that you don't want an honest answer to.  And 90% of the time, she'll tell you how she feels whether you ask or not.  This used to annoy me.  Still does some days.  But in the end, I walked away with respect for the truth, and the understanding that you truly show someone you care when you are honest with them.  It takes a brave person to be honest and mom is one of the bravest people I know.

I will never be able to say I'm sorry enough for the things I've said to her when I'm angry.  She has witnessed more melt downs than anyone else, and that usually means that she ends up being the one taking the brunt impact of whatever I'm feeling that day.  But she is my safety net.  I can cry, scream and freak out and in the end, she tells me what I need to hear and picks me back up again.  I'm afraid to think of where I would be without her in my life.  Here's to you, Mom.  This blog is a sad excuse of a tribute to the mom you really are.  I'm so glad that you were there when I needed you most and that you are such a big part of my kids' lives.  Love you.

It Takes a Village

The last year has felt like I am living someone else's life.  I used to feel like writing helped clear my head and now, I feel like I cannot write until my head is cleared.  While the past month has not been nearly as emotionally taxing as those before it, it has been...busy.  We are going back to court this week, and I am so ready for this to be over.  Just to have it settled, whether it is in my favor or against, will be a relief.  But even these orders will only be temporary.  

Despite everything, the past few weeks have reminded how blessed I am.  If we have a flight or fight instinct, mine is definitely flight.  I'm not talking about leaving town, although a vacation would be nice.  I just want a fresh start, with people who don't know me or my issues and a chance to feel free.  But the adult that is somewhere in me reminds me that it is not always possible and not always the right thing to do.  And when my immature side begins to win, there's plenty of people to set me straight.  If there's anything I have learned, it's to listen to the people who care about me.  I tried to live life by myself and it got me nowhere.  So, I'm trying to learn from my mistakes and do it better in Round 2.  They say it takes a village to raise a child.  Right now, it takes a village to keep me and the kids on track.  Whenever I feel like giving up or running away, there is someone there to knock some sense into me.  When I'm down, they're there building me up again for the hundredth time.  When I say the wrong thing, they forgive me.  That's when I'm reminded that no matter what I've gone through to get here, it's worth it, because I'm surrounded by a great group of friends and family.  It's not big, but it's more than enough.  All of them willing to stop whatever they're doing to help me out, and I am so appreciative.  I don't know how to put my feelings into words because I don't think words are enough.  The past two weekends have been perfect.  And just what I needed to keep going.  This school year is almost over, and with it, comes new life choices and decisions that must be made.  You would think the fact that I don't have a teaching position lined up for next year would scare me, but it doesn't.  When I graduated from college, I did not get one single call from schools until the first week of August.  Hardin was the only school that called and the only interview I had.  And I still believe, to this day, that it was where I was supposed to be. The people  I met there got me through a rough time, and I don't think I would've made it without them. I appreciate everyone in my life.  And every act of kindness and generosity towards me and the kids.  I'm convinced that you're all the most beautiful people on Earth and I'm so glad to be a part of your lives.  

So much to write, so little time

I hate starting the day off in a negative mood, because we all know the cycle that creates.  Today is my 5th wedding anniversary, and I would be lying if I said that just the date alone isn't having a psychological toll on me today.  I can honestly say I never want to make that kind of commitment again. Sure, a part of me would like the companionship that comes from the romantic relationship department, but the bigger part of me is screaming, "No thanks, it's not worth it."  I'm smart enough to realize that this, too, is just a psychological reaction to having gone through a not pleasant marriage to say the least.  And after an hour and a half of defending myself on why I married him in the first place (just two days ago!), it seriously made me rethink the whole point of relationships. Sadly, the hearing seemed to be less of what was best for the kids and more a criticism of me loving some guy who wasn't worth it.  And that's seriously the impression I got from his lawyer.  And, because therapists like their 9 to 5 job too, I use my blog and friends to keep the pressure down.  I like blogging because I can throw all my thoughts out there in one giant, jumbled mess and not have to deal with the patronizing platitudes guaranteed to be thrown my way.  The child in me still wants to stamp my feet and scream it's not fair and the adult Christy wants to tell that child she is annoying and to get lost. Most of you know that I love sarcasm, even when it's directed at me.  So the irony that our marriage is still going and he probably actually remembered the date this year is amusing to me. 

In other news, last night I read an article in "Countryside", which is a homesteading magazine. ((And yes, that's because I turned 65 last year!)) The magazine lets anyone submit articles to be printed.  One lady, (I'm assuming of the older generations) had blasted my generation for being a lazy, give-me generation, who only knows how to make money by having children and taking welfare.  I was deeply offended by this.  Not only do I think this does NOT apply to me, but it doesn't apply to hardly anyone in my age group I know.  I work well over 40 hours a week.  When I'm home, I'm either grading/lesson planning or working on a project that I hope will better our home and the lives of my children.  I don't get food stamps, or government insurance, or any other type of tax-payer assistance.  My parents help me buy formula and diapers because they're awesome.  I think the problem with our society is not those who "leech" the welfare system.  It's the constant degrading of those who do not.  I would like to point out that those "useless eaters" were raised by a "better generation of hard workers".  Apparently something did not stick.  My parents had me always busy.  Whether it was cleaning the garage for the 15th time or reading, traveling, and simply having fun, there was not a lot of downtime.  They taught me the value of hard work, just like several of my friends were raised.  In fact, it is because of my parents and grandparents that I'm not afraid to tackle a big project even if I have no idea what I'm doing.  I am not going to judge those on welfare as leeches, because I know some people just need help occasionally.  But I realize there are those who take advantage of it.  This has occurred in EVERY generation!  Jamestown nearly died out because the men were too lazy to farm!  Our founding fathers used slaves as a free labor source so they could have the posh life as landowners and time to think about the Constitution.  Is this the American work ethic I should mimic? Laziness is a problem throughout history and NOT applicable to just one generation.  And this rant was too long for a facebook post. :) 

As usual, you are welcome to disagree. Unlike magazines, my blog has a comment box you can use to directly challenge me.  Have fun.

Marching Forward

I feel like I missed the entire month of February.  It's hard to believe it flew by this quickly.  My resolve to blog more in 2014 is already floundering, but here I am...making an attempt.  I am trying to stick to my resolution to be more positive.  But, sometimes, it's a LOT easier to just get stuck in the mud.  So, more often than not, my "march" forward becomes more of a trudge (that usually involves a lot of whining).  We're going back to court tomorrow.  Which ultimately means that there will be no sleep for me tonight and near panic-inducing anxiety tomorrow morning.  But I am resolved to play it cool.  I'm going to bring a book, and not let anyone get to me.  So, if you try to contact me tomorrow, and I don't respond, I am probably fine, just "in the zone".  My life really is not bad at the moment.  It's (for the most part) quite peaceful.  But it's hard to relax when in the back of your mind you know everything is not settled and the peace is only temporary.  It's somewhat encouraging to see that the kids are happy and are adjusting.  I, personally, take no credit for this.  I am blessed to be surrounded by an army of people who love the kids and do not let them feel neglected or wanting in the least.  In fact, I'm starting to believe they could hear the word "no" a little more often.

But back to the beginning of this post - February seemed to just be a waiting kind of month.  I've often wondered what purgatory is supposed to be like and I feel like I've gotten a taste of it this month.  It's neither good or bad.  It just is.  And it's SO overly frustrating.  Good or bad, I want this battle to be over so that I can help the kids move on and adjust to whatever new reality they will have to face.  So, I ask that you keep us in your prayers tomorrow.  This isn't even the trial, it's just temporary orders, so nothing will be final tomorrow.  Just pray that what is best for the kids will come through and everything else will be ok.

Snow Day Thoughts

It's not really a Snow Day.  I mean, it did snow, for about 30 minutes, which is record breaking around here, but the snow didn't impede travel in any way.  The ice did in some parts.  But, I'm already off topic.  My brother broke radio silence on Facebook last week when he let loose on how he feels about my ex.  And I know that most of you have the same burning curiosity about what's going on that I would have.  (That is - if you even care.  My ego is getting quite the inflation right now, right?)  On top of this, I finally forced myself to sit down and read the background check done on him last year.  It wasn't something I'd like to repeat.  If 2013 was the year of change for me, then 2014 was the year to be honest with myself.  I'm a pretty honest person.  Like I told a friend this year, I don't think this is because I'm some stellar person, it just happens by default.  I was raised on the Good Book with a healthy heaping of guilt thrown in for good measure. (And since text is hard to read - I'm smiling right now.  No resentment.)  So lying isn't something I'm good at.  My policy is if you don't want someone to know - avoid, avoid, avoid.  And the truth of my marriage is something I've avoided until now.  So, I've decided to get honest.  With myself and with my friends who read this.  My marriage was a joke. I genuinely thought for a long time that I was in it for the long haul.  When it got rough (and it got pretty rough) I was there for the kids to have two parents in their lives - something I NEVER wanted to do.

You see, a lot of people watch those Lifetime Movies that have the main character that has NO idea that their husband actually had a secret identity.  Yeah, that was me.  I never thought it was possible either until it happened to me.  And I'm writing this in the hopes that others will learn from my lesson.  I wasn't a saint in my marriage - I'm sure that there was a lot I could have done better.  But the entire relationship started off on the wrong foot. I was lied to.  It happens, I know.  And now that I'm on the other side of it, I feel stupid.  And that's really the only word for it.  Everyone assures me that I was just "trusting" and "naive".  I still feel stupid.  For believing everything.  For not trusting those who were closest to me.  And for cutting them off when I needed them most.  I received a lot of forgiveness for my own actions in the last year and I'm so grateful for it.  PT Barnum said something to the effect of people let themselves be deceived because it is more convenient than the truth.  (And the historian in me wants to point out that I may have that wrong.  The idea I need is there though lol.) I think I took this harder than necessary because I feel like I wasn't honest with myself.  When those infamous "red flags" came up, I ignored them.  I wanted to believe that I was good enough to be loved by a good person.  It sounds really immature and silly now.  But I desperately wanted my marriage to be a good marriage.  I wanted my kids to have two, ACTIVE parents.  And I was willing to ignore the bad to have it.

I'm not mad that my ex lied to me.  It happens and people break up over it all the time.  I'm mad that I deceived myself.  That I was not honest with myself and THAT is what I'm having a hard time overcoming.  So I've forced myself to face the music, so to speak.  I have tried to look objectively at my marriage and I've come to realize that it was just never going to work.  Even before we got married.  And if I had listened to myself and trusted ME to make the right decision, I wouldn't be where I am now.  I'm always the first to tell other women that they are of worth and they should listen to their instincts and when the moment came to lead by example, I failed. I know this isn't the most uplifting blog in the world, but to me it's almost freeing to be able to put this out there for everyone to read.  And I hope and pray that the lesson is learned.  The most important thing to be honest with yourself.  Clinging to a toxic relationship or mistake from your past only brings you down.  Stop telling yourself that you deserve it or it will only get better, because it won't. Everyone deserves to be happy, just not at the expense of others.

The Philosophy of the Garden

Saturday, I had a nice, long pep-talk with myself and pulled my lazy butt off the couch to go plant some carrots.  Gardening is a long loved past time of mine that not many remember about me.  If people think they need help outside, they usually first go to my brother, and rightly so.  The guy could grow apples in a desert.  My thumb is a lighter shade of green, but it's still got the touch.   As long as I can remember, my family has always had a garden.  This is ironic, as I seldom remember eating any vegetables as a child - most likely the result of my grandmother's generosity and a picky appetite as a kid.  The actual memory of gardening is there though.  I vividly remember the year my dad planted potatoes for the first time.  The yard is still built up in that area to help drain the water.  Two years ago, I planted my first personal garden, and was surprised by the success I had.  There was something almost spiritual about having that time to yourself to turn the soil and shelter delicate blossoms.  A successful garden takes the perfect balance of all the required ingredients - soil, water, nutrients.  Too much of any one thing and suddenly, you have a bunch of very dead plants.  This is also how I've come to see life in the recent months.  Life is about experiences.  You will experience joy, anger, sadness, loss and sometimes its all in the same day.  A successful life is about finding that perfect balance. You can't have joy your entire life, or you'd never appreciate the best moments.  Similarly, letting yourself get stuck in a never-ending sadness will take the eagerness for life away.  It's really easy for me to get carried away in the moment.  Sometimes, I have to step back and remind myself that life continues to move forward.  It's not always going to bad, or good, or even just mediocre.  Life is all three, and that's what makes it awesome.

Times are Changing...again.

This weekend has me deep in thought.  It's time for another big decision for the Jones family.  Of course, no details shared here, but trust me...it's life changing.  again. Did I mention (once upon a time) that I don't like change?  You see, the fear of the unknown often leaves me clinging to "the devil I know".  I've taken a lot of risks in the past 6 months, but I am still struggling with this fear of making the wrong decision. It can be exhaustive.  I'm so grateful for the wonderful people in my life who have help me in my times of need and have shown only mercy and generosity towards my family.  It's a humbling experience, but I'm glad I've gone through it.  If I had the chance to do it all over again, I would.  My kids are completely worth it.  And sometimes, I just have to remind myself over and over again.  I know that at the end of this period of my life I will be glad I learned these lessons and made these tough decisions.  Until then, bear with me, my friends.

Dear Old Friend

I've put myself in quite a mood yesterday and today.  I have to go back to work on Monday.  It's not the work itself that I dread, but the drive and the time away from the kids.  Add to that - I probably over-did it the last few days between a 5k I wasn't prepared for and painting the rest of the living room.  I'm just tired.  Then, my ex called this morning to say that our dog was sick and losing teeth. I try not to focus on the parts of divorce that really suck.  But today, it's been hard.  When you decide to go through with a divorce, you expect it to be hard.  You know that a daily communication with that person will stop.  You expect it to be hard on the kids.  You don't expect the little things.  Like what will happen when your dog gets sick?  Neither of us can afford a long term treatment plan if something is seriously wrong with her.  I have never understood people who were "overly attached" to their pets.  But I'm not even embarassed to admit I cried like a baby when I got off the phone.

So, I wrote a letter to her.  Because I miss her.

Dear Sasha,

I miss seeing your crooked little smile everyday.  I miss the way you would get aggravated with Tango and go beat the mess out of him.  You are seriously the best dog in the world.  Woman's best friend.  You didn't love my children as much as I did and I can't blame you - Oliver pulled your tail and pushed you out of chairs one too many times, but you never lost your patience with him.  He still gives me updates on Sasha Dog when he comes home.  I miss the goofy way you used to "talk" to me.  I remember telling Matt you sounded like a wookie.  I would gladly bring you home today if I could, skin allergies and expensive food and all.  You were my buddy when I was down.  I miss our car rides just to get out of the house and sharing snacks with you.  I didn't want to leave you.  I hope you didn't think I forgot about you, sweet girl.  I can't imagine a day that I drop off or pick up Oliver and you're not there.  I hope you're ok and that I'm just overly emotional for no reason.  But if you're not, know that you were a great dog and the best companion anyone could ask for.  I love you.

Christy

Late Night Thoughts

1. It's actually early morning.
2. I can't believe its finally the new year. I have been looking forward to this for so long, that even though I hardcore celebrated its arrival, it was still slightly anticlimactic.
3. After a good, honest talk with my brother, I came to the conclusion that a man who does not, at the very least, appreciate the classic Disney movies, is not worth a second glance.
4. I am determined to stick with my exercise routine. I am doing this for me and my kids, who deserve someone who can keep up with them.
5. I could totally rock being a stay at home mom. It's too bad the bills wouldn't get paid then.
6. I found three gray hairs in the last month and dyed my hair. I never thought I'd be the type. I also never thought I'd go gray before 30.
7. I only have to survive one more semester before I can begin Christy 2.0. Still waiting to hear back on my grad school application.
8. I don't understand this quest for happiness thing some people rule their lives by. Happiness isn't found in a career, relationship, or money. It is simply a state or being...an attitude. Teaching is my calling. 90% of the time I'd rather be home, but there's an occasional blip on the radar that keeps me going. The other 90 % I just have to remind myself it pays the bills.
9. #8 reminds me that I don't understand people who like to have others completely support them. If you have any, slightly functioning body and a smile, Walmart or McDonalds will hire you. You are not too good for that spot. If I lost my job today, I'd have no problem mopping the floors at Dairy Queen if it meant I was providing for myself and my kids.
10. I communicate with more of my high school classmates through Facebook than I ever did in school.
11. Before I had kids, I hated talking to small children. Now, sometimes I feel like they're the only ones who make sense sometimes.
12. Financial reasons may prevent my Pikes Peak climb this year, but I'll get it next year for sure.
13. I may or may not be addicted to home improvement.
14. The older I get, the more of my inner nerd I embrace.
15. Life is more fun when you have a hobby.
16. I plan on attending the 'Stros first home game. Who's with me?
17. This is the first in 5 years that I didn't watch even ONE football game. I didn't miss it.
18. I was a little bummed to find out I don't get an upgrade until the end of this year. Oh well
19. This was the best Christmas I've had since I was a little kid.
20. I'm starting to wish winter was over.