I dedicate this site to my mother. She was a columnist and an author with the uncanny ability to find humor in the daily ins and outs of life. She faced every challenge with a witty optimism, including the cancer that ended her life too soon.
I have a wreath on my door now. That's something. Oh, and Dan got so sad that I didn't put up any winter decorations that he tracked down a couple of wooden snowmen in our garage. I ran
this post from 2014 last Christmas, and obviously, not much has changed in a year. Enjoy!
I might not get my decorations up this Christmas. I don't have a good reason, other than I am not very motivated.
For
those of you who don't already know, I'm a music teacher, and Christmas
is a crazy time of year for me. It's like one perpetual concert.
Sometimes during the holidays, I have heard "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed
Reindeer" so many times that I want to come home to nothing Christmas-y
at all.
If Fox News (or Stephen Colbert) knew I
existed, I might be accused of declaring a "War on Christmas." I have
already been accused by a Tea Party guy of single-handedly removing "the
Christ from Christmas" in our public schools. That was the same year I
was also told that I didn't include enough traditional druid songs like,
"Walkin' in a Wiccan Wonderland." You'll forgive me if I sometimes get a
little too Christmas-ed out to trim the tree.
My husband, Dan, and I have one window of opportunity to decorate our
house, the Saturday or Sunday after Thanksgiving. If we don't do it then, the chances of getting it done are slim to none.
Most
years, we spend that Saturday or Sunday listening to Christmas music
while Dan puts up the (fake) tree, and I flit from room to room, trying
to remember how I made space for everything the year before.
After we're done, Dan looks around the living room and says, "Yup. It looks like Santa Claus threw up on our house."
This year, Dan did put up the (fake) tree, but I went grocery shopping instead because . . . you know . . . well . . . food.
The truth is, I'm not really feeling it this weekend either because . . . well . . . I need to buy food again.
So, will we put up decorations this year?
It's a mystery . . . even to me . . .
Maybe I'll just go to Sun Valley and enjoy someone else's handiwork.
I still love these things about winter. Enjoy this reread from 2017!
In the past, I have blogged about my Top Five Fall Faves, but I have never written about my winter faves.
"Why
is that?" you may ask. "You certainly like talking about yourself and
your preferences and your opinions on every other subject, Becky. Why
have we never heard about your favorites during the winter?"
Well, let me tell you.
This
time of year, I am overwhelmed with coordinating programs and concerts
involving 100+ children between the ages of six and twelve and,
depending on the year, taking on the role of performer in various
community events. Sometimes, I forget there are things I like about this
season.
I figured I had better put my favorites in writing before the cynicism of being a musician at Christmastime takes over.
1. Fluffy Scarves and Hats
Need
I say more? Part fashion statement, part concealer of winter hair
static and turkey neck, I can't get enough of fluffy hats and scarves.
2. Christmas Decorations and Lights
Even though I whine like a baby while decorating my house, I do enjoy my month of festive decor.
I
also enjoy looking at all of decorations and lights around town, even
though last year we had to drive around in that crazy snow on Christmas
Eve, which did not mix with someone who occasionally battles motion
sickness.
Let's just say I took my husband's favorite expression, "It looks like Santa threw up on our house" a little too literally.
3. Holiday Music . . . ?
I
feel like I should say holiday music is my fave, being a musician and
all, but music teachers are kind of like the Walmart of school. We start
teaching the holiday standards in October because it takes that long to
put a Winter Program together.
I do love listening to
my cute first and second graders sing their holiday repertoire though,
especially when I announce the song we're going to practice, and they
all exclaim, "YES!" for Every. Single. Song.
4. Comfort Food
My enjoyment in life is mostly determined by food, and during the winter, there are just certain dishes I have to eat.
Butter
Braid on Christmas morning? Christmas Eve Taco Dip? Butternut Squash
Soup? Mac and Cheese? Christmas Date Log? Hello Dollies? Veggie Lasagna?
Yes, please!
5. A Winter Wonderland . . . maybe . . .
I would say snow is one of my favorites, but then I think about last year . . . Snowmageddon, anyone?
This blog post isn't exactly accurate anymore. We still run in the Turkey Trot every year, but my brother's family has joined us again!
Enjoy this re-post from 2012!
Every Thanksgiving, Dan and I run in a 5K called the Turkey Trot. It
used to be a sort of family affair until the time we had to run in
twelve-degree weather. Now my father, Dan, and I are the only relations
crazy enough to brave the cold. Personally, I like running or - in my
case - light jogging. Dan, on the other hand, will run, but he doesn't
really enjoy it.
"Don't you feel good?" I always ask Dan after a brisk morning jog.
"I feel tired. And cold. And sweaty."
I wonder - has he just returned from an invigorating run, or is he coming down with the flu?
As fate would have it, Dan is the better runner. He beats me every time.
For
this particular Turkey Trot, the participant guesses his/her race time,
and the runner who comes closest to his/her predicted time wins a
turkey. Dan, possessing a slightly competitive nature, tried to win the
turkey the first year and was frustrated when he came within seconds of
his guessed time.
We're not even sure if there is a
turkey awarded or if it is just some weird dangling carrot. Most people
leave before the last person crosses the finish line, so no one really
knows who wins the turkey anyway.
All of the runners
and walkers also get free swag. One year, it was a sweatshirt, and
another year, it was a choice between a beanie or a headband. But some
years, the race is so well attended that they run out of swag. They
promise to mail it to you, but we are still waiting on our sweatshirts
from four years ago. This year, they are mailing us headbands. We are
not holding our breath.
Of course, Dan and I don't run
in this event for the free stuff or for the promise of a turkey. I do it
because it is a fun, new family tradition that has developed since my
marriage to Dan. It takes place in the town where my family lives, so it
gives me a chance to spend some extra time with them. It is also nice
to preemptively burn off those calories that I will be consuming later
that afternoon. I don't really know why Dan does it; maybe he just likes
to do whatever I do.
This year, I tried to get to the bottom of why he did, in fact, participate even though running is not his favorite hobby.
But I gave up when I asked Dan, "How do you like our annual Turkey Trot tradition?" and he replied, "I don't hate it."
Of course, when I told him I might be entering a Christmas fun run with my school, he asked, "Can I join too?"
Perhaps he enjoys it more than he likes to admit.
The Turkey Trot when it used to be a family affair
Well, the sequel is upon us. The other day, my husband, Dan, said, "Is it weird that I think Frozen 2 looks good?" I don't think that's weird, but he just likes Kristen Bell. Besides, Weezer is on the soundtrack. Double worth it. Enjoy this re-post about the original movie from 2014!
Last
summer, Dan and I saw Gracie Gold skate in the Sun Valley Ice Show.
During one of her solos, she floated out onto the ice, dressed in a
glittery, robin egg blue leotard. A hush fell over the audience, and the
music began.
All of a sudden, the parents in the
audience collectively groaned, "Oh . . ." while the little girls beside
them squealed and started to sing along.
Gracie Gold was skating to "Let it Go," the smash hit from the phenomenon known as Frozen.
I finally watched Frozen last weekend. I know. I'm about a year behind everyone else in the world.
I am not a mom, but I try to stay hip to kids' stuff because of my job. Even Dan watched it with me.
"I'm curious," he said.
I
think it was mostly because he wanted to see what Robert Lopez, who
composed the songs with his lyricist wife, Kristen Anderson-Lopez, would
do with a kids' movie. Robert Lopez composed the music for Avenue Q and The Book of Mormon. (If you're not sure why this is significant, just Google it. You'll find out quickly.)
And the Lopez team did have some fun with the lyrics. Case in point: "Why have a ballroom with no balls?"
This year, I bought a Frozen songbook for my music classes. My choir students (even some of the boys) make me lead a Frozen sing along before rehearsal most mornings. I try to avoid the ballroom-with-no-balls song.
I
have heard from parents that siblings fight over who gets to like Elsa
and who gets to like Anna. One parent I talked to was relieved that one
of her little girls was on Team Anna and the other was on Team Elsa.
The
other day, I was trying to appear cool to a three-year-old, and I
mistakenly pronounced "Anna" with a short vowel (rhyming it with
Hannah). I was immediately corrected.
"It's Anna," the three-year-old said with a royal air, pronouncing the "a" vowels "ah" (like in father).
I
decided I had better watch the movie so that I didn't lose all
credibility with the six hundred kids that darken my classroom door
everyday.
The verdict?
I thought it
was a great story, surprisingly focused on the strength of the female
characters, although their waists are still too small.
One of my Frozen fanatic students said with a knowing grin, "I bet you loved the 'Let it Go' scene."
I
did and not just because of the awesome animation sequence where she
flips her hands around and creates the best ice palace ever.
I
had heard a lot of my music friends complain about "Let it Go" being
poorly written and overplayed and badly sung by amateurs. But the song
is about a woman's coming of age, and she doesn't even have to get
married at the end, like in most Disney princess movies.
In
fact, Anna, who takes the typical Disney princess route and falls in
love at first sight instead of getting to know the guy first, actually
finds out Prince Charming is not so charming.
Elsa,
however, is going to do things the way she wants, not the way her
society wants. She is not going to hide the feminine power that makes
her unique and a little dangerous. The song's message is one of women's
liberation, except her waist is still too small.
My students know Idina Menzel now. They think they discovered her. Never mind her almost-twenty-year theater career. But Frozen has made this Broadway veteran a household name for my kiddos. I love it.
I
have deep conversations with my kindergartners now on the science of
Olaf and how he loves the warm summer, but if he gets too warm he will
melt, so Elsa gives him his own cloud, and that is so exciting. And then
we get up and pretend to melt like snowmen to music. I am teaching high
and low, and the kindergartners don't even know what hit them.
The kids at school keep telling me about a Frozen sequel. I'm not sure how that will work out because . . . you know . . . origin stories.
"Forty-something is a weird age," my husband, Dan, said. "You can still do things, but sometimes it hurts."
Lately, I have been getting migraines with auras pretty regularly. They are not tied to any particular food, like my mother's were. I have had aura migraines since I was sixteen, but not on a regular basis. I would get one every two to three years. They often followed a high stress/high adrenaline time, after a music program, choir concert, or theater production.
Since I turned forty, I have had one or two every month.
I thought this was coming from out of nowhere . . . until I realized, "Weird. These are happening a couple of days before I start my period."
I knew my hormones were going a little haywire. Last year, I talked to my doctor about the strange periods I was having.
"Some months, I'm just spotting, or I barely have a period. Is there a chance I could be . . . pregnant?"
"Probably not at your age, especially while you're on birth control," she said. "This sort of thing just starts happening during your forties. Next month, your flow might be very heavy."
She was right. Go figure.
This year, I told her about the migraines.
"It's like a switch flipped when I turned forty," I said.
"At least you don't need a colonoscopy until you're fifty."
"That's something to look forward to," I said. "Maybe the technology will be better in the next ten years."
"I keep hoping for that too," she admitted.
By the end of my visit, my doctor had adjusted my birth control. I am supposed to take it continuously for ninety days to avoid the estrogen drop before my cycle. The best thing about this is I will only have a period FOUR TIMES A YEAR!
"I'm so excited to not get a period next week!" I said to Dan.
"Is this going to be like that SNL skit?" he asked.
Have you ever wondered what it's like being around me during the week? Probably not. There's like a 99.5% chance you've never thought about it at all.
But, just in case, I took notes this week. Every time someone (usually my husband, Dan) looked at me like I was strange, rolled their eyes and sighed, or laughed at something I said, I wrote it down.
Here are the top five.
"This is a Burlesque dance. I’m basically learning how to be a stripper right now."
I yelled this at Dan while playing Zumba World Party on the Wii U. I have officially turned into the middle-aged neighbor lady who dances provocatively in her living room with the windows open (with or without a glass of wine in her hand).
"Dan, I need your help! I’m not coping well, even though I just told my insurance I do!"
Moments before, I had taken a personal health assessment for my insurance. I had marked "excellent" at coping with stress. Then I closed the laptop, walked into the bedroom, and exclaimed the above statement.
"I'm going to church. I've got to quit saying the F-word."
It was Sunday morning, and I had just read yet another #facepalm news story regarding Trump.
Enough said.
Speaking of the F-word . . .
"Kanye doesn't even swear on this album! What is Kanye without the F-word?"
This was in response to Kanye's new "I just found Jesus" album that dropped this week.
I was climbing into a crate at the theater the other day, in an attempt to help sort set pieces.
"It's taking me a while to get my leg over this crate. Forty-two-year-old problems," I said.
"You're forty-two?" one of my theater friends asked. "I thought you were in your thirties."
"Just kidding . . . Yeah, I'm in my thirties . . ."
A couple of weeks ago, I was at a Professional Development training. For our icebreaker, we shared our guilty pleasure television show.
Many of my colleagues had fairly intellectual responses for something that was supposed to be "guilty pleasure." I remember Monk and The Office and Parks and Recreation being some of the answers. I'm not convinced those count as guilty pleasure.
"Keeping Up With the Kardashians," was my pick. "I like to make fun of their eyebrows and see what Kanye's up to," I explained.
The truth is, I could have listed several guilty pleasure TV shows. I don't have much time to watch cerebral television. Usually, I need to be doing something else while I'm watching TV.
My husband, Dan, and I have all kinds of high quality shows saved on our DVR, on our Amazon watch list, and on our Netflix queue. I haven't broken it to him yet, but I will never sit down and watch those shows.
There are a few shows that I will always keep up on as long as they are on the air. They require no thinking on my part, and that's how I like it.
Keeping Up With the Kardashians
Not only this one but every iteration that involves the Kardashian family, Flip it Like Disick, Life of Kylie, Kourtney and Kim Take Miami, etc.
General Hospital
I have watched this show since I was five. It has sentimental value for me.
Dance Moms
I was a dancer in a former life, and I can say I just watch it for the dance numbers. But who are we kidding? I watch it for the very bad, very outrageous behavior of the adults on the show.
The E! True Hollywood Story
Can I just say how excited I was when this came back?
Snapped or any true crime show on the Oxygen Channel
All summer, I watch back to back episodes of this while I'm taking care of stuff around the house.
Please don't send me emails that start with, "You should really watch . . ." The point of this is I don't need any more smut TV to watch, and I don't have time for the good stuff.
For the first time in my nineteen years of teaching, a first grader told me I looked like "Katy Perry's mom." When I wrote this blog post last year, kids were still saying I looked like Katy Perry. Apparently, I have aged significantly since last September. Enjoy this re-post from 2018!
As an elementary school teacher, my ego gets boosted everyday. I am
constantly told how pretty I am, how young I look, or that I resemble
some gorgeous celebrity or Disney character. I thought these compliments
might become less frequent as I got older . . . say, when I turned
forty. But I still find myself basking in praise everyday. I have
learned to sit back and enjoy the ride because I know I would NEVER hear
most of this stuff if I worked anywhere besides an elementary school.
I will try not to get a big head.
"Mrs. Duggan, you look like . . ."
1. "You're nineteen."
I'm pretty sure I looked more like this when I was nineteen.
2. "Belle."
Funny you should say that, young child. I was Belle once upon a time, probably before you were born.
3. "Snow White."
I think this one has a lot to do with the fact that I sing bluebird songs all day long.
4. "Katy Perry."
This has been a common one in recent years. My question is, which version?
OR
In all likelihood, it probably depends on how I have my hair cut as to whether I look more like Katy Perry . . .
Last week, I had to drive our 4Runner while our hybrid was at the dealer. My husband, Dan, usually drives the 4Runner, and mostly we take it into the mountains or in the snow. My personal car of choice is much smaller and much more gas efficient.
When I was in college, I drove a Hyundai Excel. When we got married, Dan insisted that I at least drive a car with four doors.
"Trust me," he said. "You will appreciate the extra space."
I am finally accustomed to driving our Ford Fusion, but driving the 4Runner last week was a different experience.
I make stupid mistakes when I drive large vehicles. I don't know where all of the controls are. At one traffic light, I slammed on the brakes and squealed the tires. (Don't judge me. The brakes are much more sensitive on the 4Runner.)
One afternoon, I missed a turn onto a busy downtown street, almost entered the wrong way on a one-way, and had to turn abruptly to rectify the error. When I drove over a curb a few feet down the road, the same driver followed behind me, shaking his head. He had witnessed my whole debacle.
"Ugh. I wish he would turn off," I muttered through gritted teeth.
I hit the concrete island in my school parking lot the next morning.
Side note: Parking is also an adventure in the 4Runner.
"I kept wondering, 'Who is parking in Becky's spot?' Then I realized, you got a new car!" a teacher friend said as I slid out of the driver's seat and jumped to the ground.
I explained that my car was in the shop.
"It's not my favorite to drive," I said. "I can't get in or out of it without being an American Ninja Warrior."
"That is a big vehicle for you," she admitted.
Dan, on the other hand, thinks it's hilarious.
"I like how you have to get a running start to get into the driver's seat," he said as I was trying to get to school one morning.
He stifled more laughter as I pulled the seat up as far as it would go.
"I can't reach the pedals!" I explained. "How do I turn on the windshield wipers again?"
Anyway, nowadays, I am back to driving my normal car.
I wrote this blog post seven years ago. I actually don't take showers at night as often anymore. It turned out I missed those warm, morning showers too much. Plus, I started running out of time in the evening. But it's still fun to look back on this short-lived routine of mine. Enjoy this reread from 10/7/12!
I have begun taking my showers at my night rather than in the
morning. I started doing this in September, around the start of the new
school year. I had several reasons for changing my showering habits.
1.
During the school year, I usually work out in the evening. It's nice to
go to bed refreshed - as opposed to sticky - after a 5K or an hour of
Zumba.
2. It cuts about fifteen or twenty minutes off
my morning ritual. This is especially important on my before school
choir mornings. I am all about simplifying my life right now.
3.
I'll let you in on a little secret. I have a couple of minor neuroses,
as if you hadn't already guessed. For example, I suffer from night
terrors. If you have ever followed the comedy of Mike Birbiglia, you
have an idea of what I experience occasionally (on a smaller scale,
thank goodness).
Anyway, showering at night has helped me wind down before bed.
Consequently, I have had fewer night terrors since the school year
began, and the first months of school are often my most stressful,
night-terror-filled times of the year.
These three significant positives were enough to convince that it was time to change my showering schedule.
However,
my husband, Dan, was not so enthusiastic. And I couldn't figure out
why. Dan doesn't emote about anything. His response to almost every
question I ask is, "Sure, if you want to."
Here is a sample conversation:
Me: "Do you want to go to Johnny Carino's tonight?"
Dan: "Sure, if you want to."
Me: "Will you go with me to a romantic comedy next weekend?"
Dan: "Sure, if you want to."
Me: "Are you willing to go to four Broadway shows when we are in New York?"
Dan: "Sure, if you want to."
Me: "Do you want to have four kids by the age of thirty-five?"
Dan: "Sure, if you want to."
Me: "I don't want to."
Dan: "Okay, that's fine too."
But
when I told Dan, "I'm going to take a shower now. Is it okay if I leave
you to do the dinner dishes tonight?" his response was, "Yeah . . . I
guess."
He does the dishes every night, so I knew his
reluctance didn't have anything to do with this particular domestic
chore. But I shrugged and took my shower anyway.
I
noticed that he continued to reply hesitantly every time I brought up
this new nightly ritual. One evening, I decided to pry a little deeper.
"I think I have found out how to sleep sans night terrors."
"How's that?"
"I shower at night. And then I put lavender oil on the nightstand. It helps me wind down."
"That's nice . . . I guess."
"Does that bother you?"
"What?"
"That I shower at night?"
Dan sighed, "No . . . not really."
"That's weird. With all of my personality quirks, my showering at night is what bothers you?"
"No, it doesn't bother me . . . really . . ."
"What's the problem, then?"
"Well, it's just . . . that's what my parents always did. They took their showers at night. Does that mean we're getting old?"
"I never thought about it," I said. "That's what my parents always did too. We are getting old!"
However
old it makes me (or my husband) feel, I have continued taking showers
at night - most of the time - at least the nights before my early choir
mornings. But now that it's getting colder, I am starting to miss a hot
shower in the morning. Of course, that could be because Dan turns the
thermostat down to sixty every night. Now I wonder if there is an
ulterior motive behind our Arctic bedtime temperatures.
Funny stuff is still happening at school. Here is one more installment of (mostly kindergarten) anecdotes from the beginning of the year.
One afternoon, I jumped up from my floor spot to grab my guitar. The kindergartner sitting next to me tried to move into my seat.
"Please don't sit in Mrs. Duggan's spot!" I called to him.
"If Mrs. Duggan has to sit on your head, your head will be in Mrs. Duggan booty!" another student said.
"That's not an appropriate word for school," I said (while stifling some giggles.)
One little girl brought her class's stuffed dog to music. We sat the dog up front so he could make sure we were doing a good job in music.
"What is the name of your dog?" I asked the kids.
They stared at me for a moment.
"Ghostbusters!" said one little boy.
"Your dog's name is Ghostbusters?"
"No. Dog," another kid said.
"His name is Beau," said a little girl.
She was so confident, I just assumed the dog's name was, in fact, Beau.
"We hadn't even talked about a name," the teacher told me when she came to pick them up.
"Well, I guess his name is Beau now," I said.
I call one of my kindergarten classes the "Play 'Freebird' Class." Every time I pull out my guitar, they start making requests.
"Play the farm one!" (Old MacDonald)
"Play the school one!" (Wheels on the Bus)
"Play the elephant sitting on people one!" (Willoughby Wallaby Woo)
"You guys are like, 'Play Freebird!'"
I figured I might as well amuse myself even if they wouldn't know what I was talking about. For some reason, they thought that was hilarious.
"PLAY FREEBIRD!" they shouted.
Oh great! I hope I don't get phone calls.
One of my students walked into choir the other morning, carrying his breakfast. I knew I needed to let this kid eat because he is prone to hangry-ness. I told him he could sit on the side and finish his food.
We started warmups, and I noticed a commotion on the top row.
"Let's keep focused," I encouraged.
"There's a safety issue!" the kids said. (They know me way too well.)
The potentially hangry student had crawled under the risers and was eating his breakfast there.
I somehow managed to get the kid out from underneath the risers to the table in the back of my room and still maintain control of the seventy kiddos in my choir . . . probably because I'm a rock star.
