The Chaotic Day, and the Kids Who Made It Better

I had a few chaotic days about a week ago. I don't want to say I had all-around lousy days because some good things happened. Some chaotic things happened. And one, maybe two, lousy things happened.

True to form though, my students made it better.

The day after one of my chaotic times, a fifth grade student "honored" me over the intercom during announcements. She said I worked hard and was always patient. (Ha! Have I got them fooled!) She also said something along the lines of me being a great music teacher.

Then there was the former student who was visiting the day I was getting over a migraine headache (the migraine being one of the lousy things). She saw me and gave me a hug and then started to sob on my shoulder, not out of sadness, but because she was so overwhelmed with emotion at seeing a teacher with whom she had connected. She had participated our production of The Lion King, and I think it meant a lot to her to be a part of a performance that was so moving and special.

Heck, I still cry happy tears when I think about it.

One of those crazy days, I was jogging after school with the kids' running club, and one of the third grade boys teamed up with me. Every time we ran a lap, he got a Popsicle stick. Every four laps earned the kids a green stick which meant they could choose a treat. He kept right up with me. He wanted those green sticks.

"I'm just here for the food," he said.

At the end of our run, he panted, "Whew! I am sweaty!"

"Yeah, me too," I said.

"What? You sweat? I thought girls didn't sweat."

"Oh we do, believe me," I admitted. I paused, then said, "Did your mom tell you that?"

"Yeah." 

One of the more touching incidents happened while I taught the fourth graders our final song for the Veterans Day Program. It is a song that we sing directly to the veterans in our audience, right before we thank them for their service.

I was on a time crunch and was hurrying through the song. I didn't even notice until our final run through that a couple of kids (including some of the tough boys) were tearing up quite a lot as they sang.

It reminded me to slow down and acknowledge what the music meant to my students. How, even if just for those two minutes, these kids learned a little about empathy. Through that song, we experienced something unifying and beautiful.

 

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The Day the Squash Exploded

The Universe decided it was time for yet another domestic fiasco in the Duggan household.

You may recall that I set some quesadillas on fire a couple of years ago. In the blog post about that #adulting experience, I wrote:

"I should probably add ovens to the growing list of things I'm not supposed to touch, along with power tools, serrated knives, and open tuna cans."

And microwaves.

I had this really cute patty pan squash from the community garden, but I had issues slicing it while it was raw. So, like all of the kitchen divas I read about in my cooking magazines, I decided to soften it up in the microwave.

I checked the squash after nuking it a couple of minutes, but it was too tough. I microwaved it a little while longer. The squash was slightly tender but, in my opinion, still required unnecessary effort.

"A few minutes more, and it will cut smooth like butter, like butter, baby, like butter, like butter, baby . . . " I said, dancing around the kitchen, channeling my inner A Tribe Called Quest.

All of a sudden, an explosive pop erupted from the kitchen.

My husband, Dan, tiptoed into the room. Upon hearing me swear and seeing the mess of squash seeds and stringy innards dangling from the microwave oven, he announced he was going outside to do some yard work.

Side note: That is the quickest Dan has ever gotten around to mowing the lawn.

I guess it wasn't that big of a deal. I mean, I had to clean out the microwave in a major way.

And it's above the stove and oven, so I had to stand on a stool to reach it. That was a pain.

The squash was pretty much unusable. I ended up composting it.

I was stepping on seeds forever.

On Monday, I am making butternut squash soup in slow cooker. This time, Dan cut up the squash.

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The Night I Was Visited By a Snake, a Pig, and a Vampire (RE-POST from 10/16/16)

You may think that I have been re-posting a lot lately. And you would be correct. I promise there is a new blog post just around the corner. Until then, enjoy this post from two years ago.  

Many of my faithful readers know I recently jumped on The Walking Dead bandwagon. Yes, I am still watching the show. No, I am not sure how long I will be able to stand it because my sleep is suffering.

My husband, Dan, doesn't believe that The Walking Dead is causing my weird dreams. He points to all of the night terrors and strange issues that have plagued my sleep for years. But I know The Walking Dead is playing a role in unleashing my dormant anxieties. Take, for instance, last night. I had three odd dreams, back-to-back.

"You can't blame The Walking Dead," Dan insisted. "None of these dreams were about zombies."

They were WEIRD though.

DREAM #1: Snakes (or something)

I was a teenager again (unfortunately), and I came home from school to find out that my mother and father had decided we needed five snakes. These were not normal snakes. They seemed somewhat prehistoric and made this sound, "rarr, rarr, rarr," as they hopped up and down in their cage, which was way too small for them.

"Those aren't snakes. They look like they belong on Medusa's head," I said. "Don't look them in the eyes. You may turn into stone." (Apparently, I make mythological allusions in my dreams.)

The cage was way too small for them. One snake hopped out. Everyone in the house freaked out. The snake shape-shifted into something resembling a scaly-skinned poodle and hopped over to me.

"Rarr, rarr, rarr!"

I held still so as not to alarm it and waited for it to go away.

According to my dream dictionary, snakes mean you are about to be seriously betrayed.

"It also says snakes mean you are enslaved by sexual passion," Dan read. "I like that interpretation better."

"You would," I said. "Besides, the sexual thing is only if the snake coils around you. There was no coiling. Just, 'Rarr, rarr, rarr.'"

DREAM #2: Baby Pig

In my next dream, I was an adult again and attending a class where we were learning how to herd escaped pigs into a pen. I don't even know if that's a thing, but in my dream it was. I picked up a baby pig, and I held it and cried and cried. I couldn't stop thinking that this cute baby pig who just wanted to run around and play would have to be confined to a pen. I couldn't stop crying. I woke up from this dream for a moment and was actually crying in my bed. I am still tearing up right now just thinking about the overwhelming sadness I felt.

My dream dictionary says pigs are bad news for work but good news for the family. Maybe Dan will get laid off at work, but we'll get to move somewhere fun like Portland or Seattle (or Canada if a certain orange-faced reality show star gets elected as president).

DREAM #3: Vampire With a Gun

In my third dream, I ran into a vampire I had dated a long time ago. It must have been a bad breakup because he was not happy with me. (I don't know what I did. This dream started in medias res.) He pointed a gun at me. It seemed unnecessary since . . . well . . . he was a vampire and could just drink my blood if he wanted to kill me. Love won out though, and he decided he liked me again. I don't know where Dan was in all of this.

"These dreams are not about The Walking Dead," Dan said the next morning. "Besides, you're reading a book about vampires right now."

(I am. My friend wrote a book. You should read it too.)

"The dream dictionary says a vampire means, 'You are full of fears for the future,'" I told Dan and then added, "of your husband losing his job."

"Where does it say that?" Dan said.

"Well, it doesn't say that last part, but it does say I am full of fears for the future."

"Becky," he said with a sigh, "that just sounds like your regular neurotic self."

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Top Five Fall Faves (RE-POST from 11/9/14)

I always enjoy rereading this post from 2014. I look forward to fall every year. 

I am one of those fortunate people who lives in an area with four distinct seasons.

And fall is here.

It's okay if you're jealous. I would be jealous too. Except, I live here . . . in a city . . . with fall.

Fall comes at the perfect time, right around the time I am getting tired of braving sultry afternoons and looking at people wearing not-so-sultry tank tops.

Here are some things that make the beginning of fall awesome:

1. Honey Crisp Apples
The first time I bit into one of these, I exclaimed out loud, "These really taste like honey! Apples and honey mixed together!"

"You sound like a commercial for honey crisp apples," said the person sitting next to me.

2. Pomegranates
It may be slightly messy to prep a pomegranate, but it is totally worth it in the end.

3. Pumpkin Spice Everything (e.g. lattes, breads, butters)
I occasionally indulge in pumpkin spice stuff regardless of the added sugars and syrups. I mean, there just comes a time when you've got to have a pumpkin spice latte.

4. Running
Running in fall weather is amazing. The air is crisp, not too hot, but still sunny. And the colors of the leaves are beautiful on the trails at this time of the year.

 

Minor confession: I seek out piles of fallen leaves on my path so that I can hear that crunchy sound under my feet. It probably arises from some subconscious, unmet need in my childhood.

5. Not having to mow the lawn anymore (says my husband)
This was Dan's contribution. I'm sure I'll hear complaints about raking up leaves in the next couple of weeks though.

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