Drink Up

from Saturday Social

Today’s Saturday Social Question:

What is your favorite thing to drink? (Alcoholic or non-alcoholic)

My favorite drink continues to be Mountain Dew.  I sort of became a Mountain Dew addict in undergrad, filling my little mini-fridge with it and taking in a couple a day.  Is that how I managed to stay up so late?  I don’t drink it that much these days, but in the last month I’ve started treating myself to one.  I try to fill up the car and take it through the car wash every Sunday, and I’ve been treating myself to one at the gas station during that trip.

I’ll tag those heavy drinkers over at Outnumbered and see what they like!

 

Bob’s Mom…

…is in surgery. So far. so good. Looks like three bypasses. She is off the bypass machine and we should know more in an hour. Thanks for the prayers and positive thoughts.

UPDATE: Mom’s out of surgery now and we’re waiting for her to be transferred to the ICU. The surgeon said everything went well and that he did do three bypasses using a vein that he removed from her leg. The surgery took about four hours.

Dad and I are waiting in the “Friend’s Lounge” at the hospital, which is sort of like some kind of Les Miserables refugee camp. There are all of these loudly snoring people sleeping on couches. But they have these complimentary computers so I guess I can’t complain.

Thanks to everyone for your concern and prayers.

 

Guess what we did yesterday?

Wonder of wonders, we found out on Sunday that Barack Obama was scheduled to come to Cape Girardeau. Details were released bit by bit. It would be a townhall meeting; not a rally. It would be  at Thorngate, a clothing factory in the middle of Cape. It would be for employees and a few invited guests. Of course, we would not be among those invited guests, but I couldn’t help but try to do something in honor of his visit…especially when our stupid speak-out and online comment section for the local paper was filled with stuff about how Obamna should just back to his “mosk” in Chicago, etc. Seriously. I had to make sure supporters outnumbered detractors. So, one of my colleagues and I decided to hold some posters on Independence St. across from the factory, showing our support. Mom and Eli came with me. We were trying to be really good…not “trespass” on Thorngate’s property and what not. We were the only little Obama support group along the road…the only group at all actually…except for this one guy wandering around with a “Don’t Tread on Me” flag, whatever that was supposed to mean. I had envisioned the road being lined with people, I guess. Apparently, we stood out, as I was interviewed by WSIL out of Carbondale as I held my “Got hope? This Mama is for Obama” sign. But then. the moment we had been waiting for…his motorcade! It turned before it got to where we were standing! Darn! Feeling unfulfilled, we wondered what to do next. Mom decided we should venture over into Thorngate’s parking lot. It seemed like other people were milling about there and not getting in trouble, so mom, Eli and I headed that way while Glen stayed with the stroller.

It began to rain, so we went over and stood under the overhang by the entrance. I saw my former U.S. Political Systems prof, Dr. Gerber and chatted a bit. Then, a woman in a black suit came to the door and asked us if we were employees or invitees. “Just supporters!” we replied. She said, “I’m not sure if I can get you in, it’s pretty crowded…I’ll go check.” What? There was a possibility of getting in? I tried to call Glen and tell him to come over. Then she came back and told us we had to be really quiet because the senator had already begun speaking, but we could go stand in the back. We were led inside through metal detectors and had our bags checked. Then, we followed the black-suited woman into the huge cutting room and I could hear Barack speaking. And by the time we got to our crowded little spot behind the TV cameras, I was about 4 yards from the man who I hope will be our next President. (quite a difference from the football field distance with the 20,000 other folks in St. Louis!) He gave a short speech and then opened it up for questions. He was at once intelligent and personable; articulate and funny. I realized that when I listen to him, I feel very similar to how I do when listening to a good sermon. I’m not saying I worship him or anything like that…but it’s that feeling I get when I hear someone talk about what I believe and I get inspired.

Eli was amazingly good during this adventure. He walked between me and mom, often standing or sitting on one of the cutting room tables. He clapped in all the right parts and seemed genuinely impressed that he was seeing Barack Obama from TV (although when we got in the car to go, he cried…he had though Obama was going to pass by on OUR street.) So, I tried to carry him with me as the line group pushed forward at the end of the presentation to shake hands. But holding him made me a bit less aggressive and I didn’t get to a good position for reaching the senator until he had already passed by. I like to think we made eye contact through.

Eli and I waved to him as he headed out, then turned around and ended up being interviewed by the Southeast Missourian and KZIM before we left! What a day. Oh, then I went and picked Eva up from dance.

 

Famous Bowls were just the beginning…

My mom left a message for me last night to say she thought she saw my old friend Mike on a commercial. Mike has been in this one  KFC Famous Bowls and this one for All State.

But mom got giggly at the end of the message when she got to what he was advertising. Check out Mr. and Mrs. Olsen.

This will be the commercial that I will now call out during if it comes on and say, “I did Shakespeare and Stoppard with him!!!”

 

Mother’s Day Memories

Yesterday morning, I stayed in bed a little longer so Eva could complete her plan with Daddy…and “awoke” to Bob, Eva, Eli and Maisy at the foot of the bed. The first three sang “Happy Mother’s Day to you.” (Maisy just looked very earnest.) Then they presented me with “breakfast in bed”…chai tea, banana bread, cereal and milk. They also presented me with a card and a package that contained some scrapbooking stickers. It was one of the sweetest things and one of those moments I hope will always be engraved in my memory.

Which got me to thinking, as I got dressed for church, if I remembered my other Mother’s Days very well.

2002: I had only been a mother for a week or so. Aunt Teresa, Tom and Fran came. Aunt Teresa was able to comfort me about the post-partum anxiety I had been having and everyone admired Eva. Bob got me a corsage. I pinned it to a cardigan that actually didn’t look too out of place with elastic-waist pants.

2003: I went up to Chicago with Eva and my parents to visit my Aunt Teresa who had just had surgery for a brain aneurysm. I told her she was there last year when I needed help with my brain, so it seemed fitting I should be there when she needed help with hers.

2004: Eva and I joined my Mom and Dad to go to Camp Tecumseh and visit Krista and Chad. I bought mom, Krista and I wrist corsages, which we wore to mass at Perdue’s Newman Center. We went to lunch at the deli that had a fantastic mother’s day buffet complete with huge chocolate dipped strawberries. We also visited Grandma and Aunt Tene with cake.

2005: Eli was not quite two months old. He had been baptized the month before and we decided to have him and Eva dedicated at CrossRoads as well. Bob said they were out of cards at the grocery store, but I knew how he felt. Several days later some of my girlfriends were comparing notes on Mother’s Day and told me I needed to address this issue. I have had a card every year since.

2006: Our first Mother’s Day without Grandma; we went to celebrate with Aunt Tene.

2007: I actually had to look this one up. Isn’t that funny? Thank goodness I scrapbook. It looks like after church, we went to Branding Iron BBQ where there was a mother’s day special and then we went to Malden.

2008: After my wonderful breakfast in bed, we went to church. Then, we had a cook-out at Mom and Dad’s. I got to give Henry his bottle and chat with Krista a lot. (thought I forgot to make her some take-home enchiladas—sorry, KR!) Then, we headed to Malden.

Hoping every mother out there had a very memorable (in a good way) day!

 

Every Story has a Star…

.

..and Eva was the star of this one! She had her 6th birthday party today with five of her little friends, plus a few moms (including her teacher, Mrs. Scott!) , Uncle Chad, Aunt Krista and Henry, too. The theme was American Girl, of course, and more specifically, that everyone is the star of their own story. We read the last chapter from Happy Birthday Kit. ate lunch (star shaped sandwiches, chips and lemon sorbet “tea”), made fancy picture frames complete with pictures of Eva with each friend inside, had cake with ice cream and then played “hot shopping bag” (like hot potato) to get everyone their favor bag (yes, I asked if I could have extra bags when we were at American Girl Place!) which contained a journal and pencils.  On the invitations, we requested that her guests bring donations for the food pantry and clothes closet at church instead of presents. (I just remembered I should go take a picture of the two big bags of food and the big bag of clothes will be taking to mass tonight!) When the party was over, I realized it went just fine without having the usual “present opening” session. I also realized how much calmer it was than Eli’s party…and that Eli’s party when he turns six will probably not be this calm either.

Now, all of us stars are enjoying a lazy afternoon. Bob and I did some paperwork after getting the kids down for naps and now everyone in the house is sleeping but me. We’ll go to mass later and then have the rest of my family over for dinner. Tomorrow, it’s Kids Connect and our Mother’s Day celebrations. You would think after six-plus birthday parties, I might start to remember that I’m a mother,too, but it’s always a happy little surprise to remember that it’s MY day to be honored as well!

 

Finals.

Finals week always has a rhythm of its own.  Unlike the bang that grade school ended with…cleaning out our desks and wiping them down with the janitor’s cleanser and about a million thin brown paper towels..then running all together into the sunshine together for the last bus ride of the school year…college semesters sort of just fizzle out. Windows are open and that spring-rain breeze is blowing through the building. Profs start relaxing their personal dress codes. There are fewer and fewer people around. Then, I enter grades into the computer, press enter and voila, my semester is over.

When I left the building at 7 PM yesterday after submitting my final grades, I didn’t feel particularly jubilant or free. Partly because I am teaching summer school and need to start planning for that now and partly because my students were really getting me down. I know I need to focus on the good ones…and even the average ones. The kids who completed all their work and actually seemed to learn something. The ones who said this was their favorite class and I was a great teacher. But it’s the ones who I discovered plagarized their SELF analyses, the one who writes to me begging for me to raise his final grade from the low B he has to the A he needs to keep his $7,500 scholarship…the ones who give such poor final speeches it would appear they learned nothing and the one who writes in his self analysis that he in fact,, didn’t learn anything, the class was pointless and I didn’t teach well..those are the ones who stay with me.  I have adapted this class every semester I have taught it based on student feed-back, as well as self reflection and further pedagogical research.  So there are always some good lessons to learn. But one of the lessons I have to remember too, at this time of year, is that ultimately, I am not the one who decides my students’ destiny.

If their scholarship is at risk, they should talk to me WEEKS before the final, not e-mail me the day after they have taken it. I offer about 150 extra credit points throughout  the semester…the equivalent of 1.5 major speeches. If they mess up big a couple of times, they could complete that extra credit and still come out smelling like a rose. They shouldn’t have to beg me to “have mercy” at the final hour when I have tried my best to be merciful all semester long. It’s the same old dance teachers have danced for many years before me and will dance many years after me…the struggle of wondering whether you have failed your students or your students have failed you.