I Like the Idea of...

I like the idea of a lot of things. 

I like the idea of hiking, heading out into the wilderness, soaking in nature. But, I don’t like to sweat that much. And going up hills is hard. And breathing heavily in front of people is just embarrassing. Also, I’m not really sure what poison ivy looks like. 

I like the idea of camping, circling around a campfire, roasting marshmallows, sleeping beneath the stars with only a sleeping bag between me and the earth. But, the ground is hard to sleep on, and racoons give me the creeps, and what if a serial killer is hiding in the woods over there. 

I like the idea of having dinner parties, friends gathered by candlelight, laughing, toasting, leaning back at the end of the meal, bellies full. But then I have to clean my floors, and my tables and my clutter and vacuum and dust and wipe down the toilets. And also, my specialty of air-frying take-out isn’t really dinner party-worthy. 

I like the idea of being a morning person, taking coffee to the front porch, listening to the sounds of the neighborhood waking up, maybe spreading the newspaper out on the table in front of me. But, I don’t drink coffee or subscribe to the newspaper, plus my bed is so cozy and instagram reels are so funny and I like to stay up so late. 

I like the idea of breweries, crowding around a table with friends with a flight, comparing the ales to the stouts to the IPAs. But, I hate the taste of all those and ultimately I say to the bartender “What’s the closest you have to a pilsner or a light beer” when really what I mean is “Do you have Miller Lite.” 

I like the idea of a garden, of being a gardener, hands in the soil, growing enough zucchini to burden the neighbors and enough tomatoes to make salsa to give as gifts. But the deer stalk our neighborhood, trotting through yards like stray dogs, and the soil is too something, making even tomato plants wilt and wither, and the sun is hot on my neck, and I don’t even like tomatoes that much. 

Sometimes I like the idea of being someone else, someone I might have imagined being in my teens when watching The Big Chill or St. Elmo’s Fire or any movie that made life look different from what I saw around me. But, one of the gifts of time is getting comfortable with who I am, leaning into the parts of myself that are real and true. It’s drinking the Miller Lite at the brewery and sitting on my porch in the evening and planting flowers in pots on my porch and taking the easy trail at the Nature Center and having friends over for pizza and making s’mores out back but sleeping in my own bed. It’s being comfortable in my skin. 

I like the idea of me as I am.

I stood in the self-checkout line at Target. There was an adorable, squishy baby sitting in the cart in front of me, an 18-month old it turns out. She was babbling and smiling and looking sparkly in that particular way that bald-headed babies have. She kept staring at me and I kept smiling at her. As her mom absent-mindedly handed her a veggie straw, I looked past this sweet baby, right at my own sweet baby. 

2009 (18 months) and now (14 years)

My 14-year-old stood in the background, shopping for bathing suit tops with her best friend. She picked up tops, showing them to Grace, who I've known since she was five. She giggled over the skimpy bathing suit bottoms, thankfully passing them over for the high-waisted briefs. I love her independence and the way she wants to go off on her own. 

But damn I miss the days when I could plop her in the front of a cart and pick out her cute little swim suits and hold her close. 

Parenting teenagers is hard. Harder than I expected. I'm a high school teacher; I get teenagers. But when they're your own, it's just different. I called my mom today to talk to her about a couple things I'm worried about and before I knew it, I was crying. I haven't cried to my mom about parenting since they were busy toddlers. 

Somehow, everything feels so Important right now. I've got four years left to impart the lessons and the values and the confidence and the relationships and the study habits and the self-reliance and the...

You see what I mean? I know that realistically Greg and I have been working on these things all along. Of course we have. But somehow it felt easier when they were underfoot all the time (if you are a parent of toddlers, I know that sentence makes you want to punch me in the face. I get it). Now, they spend hours (days) in their bedrooms. I have to bribe them to go get ice cream with me. They do their own laundry, make their own meals, and have whole lives apart from us. As they should.

I'm left cherishing the moments. Reminding myself to listen on the rare occasions they feel like blabbing (even if it's in the middle of the show I'm watching). I want to press pause because in six months they'll have their temps, and then their license and I know it's just going to be on warp speed from there. 

Luckily, I still have Justin. And the dog. 

Remembrance for my Grandma

I really love Linda Rief's book Quickwrites. I realized yesterday that I have no living grandparents. My grandmother died two years ago. Not sure why it took two years for me to realize that I have no grandparents around. So when I saw this quickwrite, I knew I'd need to use it for my inspiration today. 

Remembrance for My Grandmother

Ann Norine Hildreth 1927-2020

I remember...we collected prayers

and made up stories and built

embarrassing memories and arranged

the extra chairs when company came

and set out special pickle dishes and read

out of the old Childcraft volumes

and played Trivia Pursuit and watched Jeopardy 

and talked about the Reader's Digest and

ate drumsticks on the front porch and

the last time I saw her, I told her I loved her

and even though she couldn't talk, 

I know she heard me.

Reflection: I loved writing like this! I write about my grandma often, but this made me think of even more memories and new ways to write about her! I encourage anyone to try it! 

What's that they say about pride?

 I am so sore tonight. All day my bones have ached. My joints ache. My back aches. 

No, I didn't work out hard yesterday. Want to know what I did to cause these aches?

I fell. 

I didn't just fall, I bit it. 

We were downtown last night, a night on the town. I was walking but not watching where I was walking, my head turned to face my husband. Next thing I knew I was soaring through the air. 

I completely, totally, utterly missed a stair. And as I tumbled through the air, I kept thinking "What the fu...." I landed hard on the pavement, my hands luckily catching me, my knees scraping on the edge of the missed step. 

I landed with a literal ooof. I could hear the people around me gasp. As I rolled myself over to my butt, I did a mental inventory. I could feel my cheeks flushing.

My husband bent over me, horrified and worried. I took a deep breath. I felt myself welling up, willing myself not to cry. 

Our friends rushed over. "Are you okay?" they hovered. 

"I'm fine. Go away." That's what I said. Me, a grown woman. I just wanted to be invisible. 

And so today I hurt. My palms are bruised, my knee hurts, and I'm still pissed at the way that sidewalk disappeared right underneath me. 

And I'm reminded of how humbling it is to fall in front of people. I'm also thankful for being strong enough to catch myself. There's a metaphor in there, I'm sure. I'm too busy tending to my band-aids, though, to suss it out. 

I'm such a baby. But a bruised palm hurts! 

I haven't had a skinned knee in, oh, 20 years. At least! 

Things I Couldn't Live Without

I love being inspired by other slicers and I read this one about 13 Things I Couldn't Live Without - Classroom Edition. It got me thinking -- it's a fun exercise. I hope you try it! 

My Napping Blanket

Yes. Yes I am a 40-something-year-old woman who has a napping blanket. A blanky, I guess. It's one of my kids old comforters and there's something about it that is just perfection. It's not too heavy, instead creating the perfect cloud cover when I lie down for a mid-day snooze. I'm a habitual napper, too, so the napping blanket gets a good bit of use. In fact, I don't even bother to fold it and put it back in the closet. I just bunch it up and leave it on my chair. 

I only take naps in our bed, but very rarely under the covers. Enter the napping blanket. Keeps me cozy without getting the sheets dirty. 

The Damn Dog

My oldest son Jacob begged for a dog. We thought we were depriving him of a critical life experience by not having a dog. Finally, in a moment of weakness, my husband, a dedicated non-dog person, agreed to a dog. 

The kids and I did our research, picked out a dog. We got him home and the first night was so sweet. Sleeping on the couch next to the crate, I heard Jacob whisper "Welcome to your new home, Ollie." 

Now? Two years later? The dog is currently curled under my feet, never more than a foot away from me. Walks? Me. Training? Me. Food? Me. Baths? Me. We are the cliche come to life. The kids love the dog and play with him in fits and starts. The worst part? I love the damn dog so he's not going anywhere. 

Bird Feeders

It's a rite of passage, I think, to fall in fascination with bird feeders. I love watching the birds flock to them. I love how the finches devour the food. I love how they nest in the bird house. I even love the cacophony in the trees this time of year. 

Spiral Notebooks 

I didn't mean to collect notebooks. It just happened. I blame it on Ohio Writing Project. Each summer I'd fill a spiral with notes from the most amazing graduate classes anyone could ever take. And when the summer was over, the spirals were a reference book -- one full of lesson ideas, writing models, and inspired ideas.  

In my work as an instructional coach now, I have notebooks full of notes, to-do lists, things I need to follow up on. My most treasured gift came from my colleague Brandi who is an expert gift-giver. She culled through my social media posts about coaching and created this beautiful notebook. It's the perfect size. It has all my favorite moments on the cover, and I treasure every page. I'll be so sad when it's full and takes it's place on the shelf of spirals. 

Firepit

We live in a pretty modest house by middle class standards. Built in the 70s, it has regular old 8 feet ceilings, laundry in the basement, and cracks in the foundation. It's got plenty of space and beautiful upgrades, but it ain't fancy. About 7 years ago, though, during a patio installation, the contractor talked us into a fire pit. It's the cadillac of fire pits. They had to literally dig a perimeter and then bring in heavy machinery to install the fire pit. 

And we love it. We've spent so many nights gathered around that circle, looking at stars, watching satellites, making s'mores. I think a fire is hypnotizing and I can't wait for our yard to dry out enough to use it again. 

Bumper stickers

Have you noticed bumper stickers lately? The kids and I were driving back from my parent's house a few months ago and I was appalled at the vitriol on the truck ahead of me. The f-word was all over the back window. This word is certainly no stranger to my vocabulary, but on this stranger's car it felt personal. 

"F*( Joe Biden"

"Let's Go Brandon"

"F- your mask"

As we pulled into a gas station, I noticed the truck was there too. From the cab emerged a man who I couldn't imagine would ever say those things to my face. I was so angry that had I been by myself, I likely would have said something. And what would that have accomplished? But here I was, after following the guy on the highway for 25 minutes, personally affronted. 

Fast forward a week later. I was grabbing my morning Dt. Coke at McD's, and I noticed the car in front of me had a sticker. But this time, the message read "I hope something good happens to you today." I felt such a visceral dopamine hit. I realized I was smiling. It was a kindness from a stranger and it altered my mood. I carried that with me all day.

I ordered my own stickers the next day. I have it on the back of my minivan and sometimes it's a reminder to myself, to breathe. To treat people in the way this message reminds me. To look for the good in people, even when it's a little (or a lot) hard. 

It's also giving me something to live up to. How can I be rude or angry when I have such a sticker? What kind of hypocrite would I be? 

I hope something good happens to you today too. And here's a link if you want one too. 

(sorry for the dark picture...I had to run out at night to take it!)

Rambling Autobiography #sol22 Day 4

 Linda Rief's Quickwrites are my favorite! Here's her "Rambling Autobiography" followed by mine. 

Angela's Rambling Autobiography: 

I was born right before a blizzard, my young parents taking their new little family to a friend's house, one with a fireplace and lots of warmth. I adore Dietsch's chocolate covered pretzels. I bought my favorite pair or corduroy pants from Salvation Army and sewed a butterfly patch over the hole I burnt with a cigarette, back when I smoked (a lifetime ago). I snuck a copy of Forever by Judy Blume from desk to desk, a bunch of 8th grade kids at Catholic school trying to glean more than what the religion class tells us. That was the same year I prayed "God, please don't call me to be a nun. I really want to make out" after visiting a convent and hearing all about answering God's call. When I was 9, I lost my baby sister when she crawled through a tear in the screened in porch. My favorite place to hide was the tree house across the street, the one the older boys built. I can still smell the baby powder my mom would sprinkle on our newly cleaned sheets, something my husband still does for me today (only on my side of the bed). I am a daughter who grew up, a mom trying to create memories just as indelible.