Stress Eating

This is the list of books I read this summer for graduate school and in preparation for my new job:

The Accidental Teacher by Eric Mandel
Drive by Daniel Pink
Strengthsfinder 2.0 by Tom Rath
Everyday Teacher Leadership: Taking Action Where You Are by Michelle Collay
Effective Supervision: Supporting the Art and Science of Teaching by Robert Marzano
Improbable Scholars: The Rebirth of the Great American School System and a Strategy for America's Schools by David Kirp
Multiplication is for White People: Raising Expectations for Other People's Children by Lisa Delpit
Reframing the Path to School Leadership: A Guide for Teachers and Principals by Lee Bolman and Terrence Deal
Interactions: Collaboration Skills for School Professionals by Marilyn Friend and Lynn Cook
The Essential Conversation: What Parents and Teachers Can Learn from Each Other by Sarah Lawrence-Lightfoot
Crucial Conversations: Tools for Talking When Stakes are High by Kerry Patterson, Joseph Grenny, Ron McMillan, and Al Switzler
Purposeful Co-Teaching: Real Cases and Effective Strategies by Gregory Conderman, Mary V. Bresnahan, and Theresa Pedersen


(A side note for nursing moms: download the Kindle app on your iPhone. Load all required reading onto said app. If you're nursing 6 times a day for roughly 15 minutes each time, you have just gained 90 minutes of quiet reading time. Make sure you make an eye appointment, however, as it is guaranteed that your vision will deteriorate at a more rapid rate thanks to the constant eye strain.)

 A stack (or in my case, a Kindle home screen full) of books can provide useful tools to these important conversations.

But sometimes working together for a common goal can be difficult. I'm learning how to communicate a shared vision and support and serve teachers in a new capacity, but I'm only a few weeks in. I struggle with hoping I'm doing a good job. I'm not sure if this is people pleasing or being a reflective learner, but either way, it can lead to one eating one's own weight in candy corn. Not me, of course. It's just a possibility of which one should be aware.

This evening, as I sit tensely on my couch enjoying the fermented fruits of California while I pray my daughter will settle herself to sleep and thus my blood pressure will return to a healthier level, I am thankful for the opportunity to grow.

As I coached my students, no one has yet arrived. In my classroom, I attempted to create a safe environment in which mistakes were accepted and viewed as springboards for change. But that advice can be hard to swallow. The vulnerability required to humbly grow is challenging. I hope I can work to create the safe environment that allows for meaningful change.

Balancing Act

Well, friends, for those of you following along at home, we have just completed month one of my New Job.

I spent six wonderful and challenging years as a classroom teacher, but this year, I was given the opportunity to work four days a week and coordinate our magnet  program and also work with intervention.

There's thankful, and then there's thankful. And that is how I feel about this new opportunity.

I love teaching, and my heart will always be in the classroom. But this is also my thesis year, and my girl will only be this little once, and I needed to take a break. The thing about classroom teaching, as I'm sure you all know, is that it is rarely confined to the hours of 8 am to 3:30 pm. The hours spent on parent conferences, extra duties, lesson planning, grading papers, writing report cards, and general worry for each child can be exhausting.

Friends, I can't tell you how good it does my heart to have time. 

This weekend, I met a friend at a park. I bought bread and sweet potatoes at the Farmer's Market. We went on three walks and played on the swings in the backyard and also made two batches of pumpkin muffins. I did not grade a single paper or plan a single lesson.

 It wasn't all sunshine. I had to wake up two hours before my family on Sunday to do my grad school work. There is still a huge pile of laundry that is not folded, it's just relocated.  This little one was super fussy. The darling hubs and I had an argument. But we had time to connect with her and work out our conflict and go to bed Sunday evening with peaceful hearts (and a mountain of laundry that has yet to be folded).

There are seasons of life, I know (thanks Ecclesiastes and the Byrds), and I'm hoping that this is one of balance.

How I spent my Labor Day vacation

Last night I was awoken at 1am to the familiar sounds of my daughter fussing. For those of you who know us, Joel and I seemed to have bred an energetic spitfire who doesn't take to sleeping on her own. Yes, I have tried that and no it did not work.

The funny thing is, I was rejoicing because she had slept from 7:30pm to 1am, the longest stretch I have gotten in a few weeks. Imagine my surprise when I was met with every bodily fluid- we had to change pajamas twice. How nice.

Of course, being the nervous mom that I am, I was terrified that she would puke again and I, in my sleep deprived stupor, would not hear it. So naturally, I kick Joel out of bed and make a baby safe area for her to cuddle up sweetly as she drifted off to sleep in the arms of her loving mother. 

Well, that was the plan.

Instead what happened was no less than 2 hours of Crazy Baby climbing all over me, kicking me in the chest, and literally jumping on the bed. 

Some of you know I used to sleep with her. For three months straight she slept upright on my chest, easing what I now know to be common colic. In month four, I returned to work and she slept in the crook of my arm, which sounds idyllic when Dr. Sears describes it but was a nightly battle to make sure I didn't lose circulation to my fingers. 

I remember wistfully thinking of the day when she would no longer want to cuddle, reminding myself that "The days are long but the years are short." That day came approximate five months ago. This kid wants her freedom. 

So, at 3:45 in the morning, I relented and set her down in her crib, where she slept for the next 3.5 hours until something deadly escaped into her diaper.

Needless to say, we both got showers this morning.

As I was typing this, my daughter was allowed to eat apple snack sticks (read: sugar coated apple flavored chips) for breakfast because shut up. That's why.

And to top it all off, I spilled coffee onto our beige couch, thus presenting the current dilemma: 

Do I spot clean that area, leaving the rest of the couch to look dingier by comparison, or do I leave said coffee stain in hopes people will think there is a permanent shadow on our couch?

Today was supposed to be a date day for Joel and I. We don't get out much and I can count on one hand the times the two of us have been on a date in the last year. We carve out time here and there, but with the two of us working and in grad school, it's not so easy.

On this Labor Day, I want to acknowledge all those mamas out there who are covered in puke, folding their third load of laundry this morning, and succumbing to the sweet silence that an episode of Curious George can bring. 

We may not get a day off today, but...

I don't have advice. I just have commiseration.

New favorite!

Last week, I  had this tickle in my throat. You know, the kind that fills you with dread as you picture the next week and a half of congestion and late night coughing fits. I drank tea. I took naps. And still, it felt like the Jaws theme music was playing in my head as I just felt...icky. Duh nuh. Duh nuh. Duhnuhdunuh!

Enter this new favorite product-the On Guard beadlets. This cute little package included some sort of immune boosting wonder, because I took a couple a day for a few days and I'm happy to report that nary a tissue was used!  It wasn't an instant cure, but I definitely never got the dreaded cold that invariably follows the sore throat. Bonus: they taste like Christmas! 

Let me know if you want to know more!

I've Got This

For the past couple of years, our household has lived in a state of uncertainty. We rarely know what to expect from month to month or week to week. Our modus operandi has been to step forward without even seeing the path on which we walk.

We have made huge, life-changing decisions without much of worldly security. 

I am not a poster child of faith in that I have basically freaked out at every twist and turn. I'm not going lie: it can be a scary place.

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In my years of teaching and working with children, I have had some kids who struggle with anxiety. A common theme for these kids is always wanting me to post the day's schedule on the board. They are the ones who walk into the classroom and immediately ask what we are doing. When disruptions in our schedule occur, they are the ones who sit, fidgeting, and ask a million questions  about how this will affect our plans.

Often, in a moment of exasperation, I answer, "Don't worry- I've got this."

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I am a problem solver. When there is a crisis, my first instinct is to make a list.

A physical list.

 I am not exaggerating. In the hardest times in my adult life, I have made more lists than I care to admit, and I rely on these lists to create calm in my life. With each check mark I feel calm returning, but only temporarily.

Lately,  I think God is telling me to stop relying on these lists- these daily plans and schedules. My prayers revolve around endless questions and concerns as life disruptions have come.

The thing is, lists are good. Schedules are good. Plans are good. But I have made them the Ultimate. Rather than seeking Him, I seek the Plan. The next step. The security of being able to check every box. 

"Don't worry. I've got this."

But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.- Matthew 6:33

This post took me entirely too long to write.

Blame it on my upbringing, my elementary school professional experience, or my burgeoning type A personality, but I am constantly aware of the rapid passing of time.

When I was in college, I read this book by John Piper called Don't Waste Your Life. In all honesty, I read the back cover and first two pages, which is generally how things go with me and John Piper. It kind of messed me up because ever since then, I have been terrified of wasting time.

In an attempt to describe how my brain works, I tend to visualize units of time like Tetris pieces that need to fit together perfectly. I wake up every morning trying to guide those little pieces into comforting alignment.

This leads me to do crazy things like read textbooks while I nurse and freak out if I buy too many fresh vegetables for fear I won't have time to cook them before they rot.

Are you familiar with The Five Love Languages? Can you guess what mine is?

I have written before about how I am learning how to sit and be still, and I say learning because it lets me get away with not actually "getting" it.

 One of my favorite things about my daughter is that she doesn't care about time. She doesn't care that it's Nine O'Clock and Should Be Nap Time because she's ready to play. She does this really cute thing where she'll be nursing and suddenly stop, look me in the eye, and start cracking up. She's not thinking about the fact that if she doesn't eat now, that will push mommy's departure time back 10 minutes, making her late for a meeting.

It can be maddening, but I envy it.

But mostly, I'm thankful that she's teaching me that time is less of a thing to be managed and more of a gift to be joyfully given.

What a mama

After a stressful week of working 40+ hours, barely seeing my little one, and being hit with one "lemon" after another, I let my hubs put the baby to bed and drove over to the house of a dear friend. After putting her sweet daughter to bed, we poured glasses of red wine and ate freshly baked chocolate chip cookies which I'm sure have healing properties, both physically and spiritually. And after hashing out our lives of late, we anxiously spoke of our relationships with our girls and hoped that our daughters would love us and we would love them and we would have sweet relationships with them into adulthood.

Something I couldn't have understood until becoming a parents myself is that I am legitimately obsessed with my daughter. Think what you want, but when I look at her, I see the most beautiful little girl in the whole world. Thinking of her slamming the door on me after a hormone-fueled argument or knowing that she may see my name pop up on her caller ID (or whatever they'll have in 15 years) and not taking my call...well, it's almost more than I can handle.

We thought of moms and daughters who have good relationships, knowing that every relationship has its flaws and trials. They shared one common theme.

That mama loved the Lord. She took the time to cultivate her own relationship with Jesus and fostered the same in her daughter. 

My own mom is the daughter of a Brit and went to boarding school in England, so she was my "mum." 

Mum prayed with me and answered all my God questions and although she has always worked full-time, I have never felt that she didn't have time for me. I remember talking with her while she cooked dinner or ironed in the kitchen, and even now I'm sure I take up way too much of her time by calling on the phone a few times a week. 

What a blessing it is to have a mother whose heart is close to the Lord's. How much I hope that my daughter can say that of me.  

"Woman, how divine your mission
Here upon our natal sod!
Keep, oh, keep the young heart open
Always to the breath of God!"
-William Ross Wallace (1865)