I’ve often looked at blogging as sending out messages in bottles – I write something, toss it into the great internet ocean, and am absolutely amazed when someone else replies. I am astounded that so many people have so much in common with each other. It is a small world after all. ~Angela
By the time you and I read this I’ll have been back at full time work nearly two weeks. I am a special education teacher, and will be taking over a classroom with a ‘history.’ I know I’ll love my students, and (will hopefully) develop some competence in directing the teaching assistants and classroom life.
As I write this my first battle is one of storage war proportions and crosses two separate unions, three different employee groups, and two different school admistrator’s authorities – a staff member insists on gardening with the students and is occupying two large storage cupboards and two bathrooms, and 8 linear feet of classroom floor space with of pots and gardening supplies. I have a three-drawer file cabinet. All my classroom supplies are in the trunk of my car.
For those teachers out there that read my blog, you know how weird this is. And how weird it can become. I will keep you posted on the ousting of Operation Flower Pot. For the record, I actually do enjoy gardening and hope to ‘prune’ back the staff member’s enthusiasm, with the class planting seeds and watching things grow maybe once a week. Max. Not two hours a day, as had been done in the past. I wonder what will happen to all those flower pots?
I know that in the first couple weeks of full time work Hubby will be home with the kids. I know the dust bunnies will re-emerge from their sanctuary under the bed, and colonize our hallways. I know I will be eating a lot of pasta for dinner (Hubby’s specialty) and some (hopefully cooked) frozen fishsticks.
Mr. Sensitive will be starting his second year of Kindergarten (they call it Senior Kindergarten here). Last year at this point he was coming home and lining up his cars in rows, muttering “You stupid head! You poo-poo head!” These were words he’d never heard before and actions he’d never done before – all signs of high stress as he adjusted to a tumultuous classroom life.
With Hubby in charge, Little Miss Adorable and Baby Dunk will return to their activities at my local readiness centre. There will be changes there as well, as some staff leave and others arrive. Little Miss Adorable will be heartbroken when she realizes her favorite teacher left.
For my part, in this halfpastnormal life I will keep posting and keep tweeting, albeit using my iPhone in the school and against school rules that forbid electronic devices. I’ll just hide in the ladies’ washroom – you can find me with the gardening supplies.
When I started this post I wanted to write myself a reminder about the life I’d lived while at home with Baby Dunk and Little Miss Adorable. I wanted to remind myself about our shared lunchtimes and afternoon naps. I want to remind myself about Little Miss Adorable’s amazing growth (developmentally, she’s still tiny).
She is an amazing ‘mommy’ to her baby doll army and frightening mimic. She still holds ‘circle time’ for her baby dolls, sitting and clapping like her teacher, holding up books for them to read, baby dolls lying in a circle around her. Little Miss Adorable is a subtle person, unless you know what you’re looking at, you won’t see it.
Little Miss Adorable points to the patterns on her clothes, and waits for the preschool teacher’s question – if anyone’s wearing a pattern today, please raise your hand. Little Miss Adorable’s arm will shoot up and she waves frantically. If you don’t ask the right question, you don’t know what she knows.
I am glad I was home to see her do this. I am glad I was home with Baby Dunk, who started creeping across the floor on his back at 3 months and is now pulling up to standing on any fixed surface (as I write this he’ll be 10 months old in a few days). Baby Dunk spends his days chasing Little Miss Adorable and Mr. Sensitive and getting into their stuff. Baby Dunk and Little Miss Adorable tag-team my kitchen cupboards, opening and emptying in tandem. I am glad Hubby will be home with the kids so we don’t have to put them in a daycare. I am glad one of us can watch them grow.
We’ve done the two working parents, two kids in two different daycares, two different drop-off and pick-ups, and it was too much. With a third child this situation takes on ridiculous logistics – two working parents, three kids in three different daycares, three different drop-off and pick-ups. Never mind paying $2500 per month. No thank you.
I am glad we will be moving so I can continue to stay home with them, at least part time. My time at home with them has flown by. I hope my time working goes just as fast. Ten months, just ten months, I keep telling myself.
Then we move.
This post is a reminder to myself about my bloggy life – connecting with folks around the world. You folks have been a source of information and inspiration about different ways of being. You all have certainly opened my eyes, and my heart.
You all have helped me finally make the decision to up and move to a small town, just by showing different ways life can unfold. Thank you.
I’ve done shout outs before, and I’ll do it again. I appreciate you guys tremendously. Thank you to: the stalkers (hello Sara S;-), the Aspie tweeters (coyotetooth, AsparagusGirl, Aspie_Chap, StimtasticAspie and so many more) as well as the general tweeps. I’d love to chat with you on Twitter, I’ll be tweeting from the ladies’ washroom, behind the gardening supplies. Look me up.
A huge hug and thank you to all the mommy bloggers out there (there are too many to list properly, but here’s a short list) – More than Words, Violet’s Diary, ALSFM, Heartfelt Balance, Handmade Life, Things I Can’t Say, Ms.Mommy HSS, and of course Louise Kinross from Bloom and the Mother of All supporters, Ann Douglas.
Thank you. Thank you for putting your own message in a bottle out there and sharing something of yourself. I truly appreciate it.
But this post is supposed to be a reminder to myself – a message in a bottle tossed overboard, scheduled into the not-so distant future.
My message, simply – BELIEVE