Sunshine heats the deck
Don’t mind dry fall leaves piled
Spring sun matters more
than the gathered old fall mess
Feel the sun recharge your joy
“What time are we leaving?” That’s the question my son asked me last night.
“Well, maybe 7:00 but it will feel like 6:00.” I told him.
He rolled his eyes, “Not more of the ‘it will feel like stuff.’”
At dinner my dad had said, “It will be hard to leave early because waking up at 6:00 you lose an hour. But, traveling home will be nice because you pretty much gain an hour.”
I think this might be why calendar math is hard for me.
But, I figured out what he meant. 6:00 a.m. feels like 5:00 a.m., and that’s going to make a person sleepy. But 6:00 p.m. feels like 5:00 p.m., and that means more daylight for driving. Yay!
Before I went to bed I set up the coffee, of course. It was 11:00 p.m. Daylight savings hadn’t started yet. But I really couldn’t figure out what time I wanted to set the coffee to brew, with all the time travel that was about to happen while I was sleeping.
So I cheated and set the coffee clock ahead an hour. Suddenly 11:00 p.m. was 12:00 a.m. I wonder if the scientists know how easy it is to travel to the future.
I joked to my sister that now I was worried. What if I forgot that I already set the coffee maker clock ahead. In the morning I might accidentally set it ahead again! What if I kept forgetting! Soon my local time could match my son’s as he’s traveling in Spain!
So, you’re wondering, I’m sure, how this all worked out this morning.
Well, it’s 7:04 a.m. and it feels, somehow like it’s 5:30 a.m.
I hit snooze from 6:00 – 6:45, either because it felt like 5:00 – 5:45, or because I went to sleep at 11:30, which felt like 12:30. We will never know.
I don’t think we are leaving at 7:00, because it’s already past that. But, I guess if I wanted to I could just change the clocks back so we are on time. Now that I understand time travel.
So many clocks just automatically change now that that plan probably won’t work.
Years ago our kitchen clock was up so high, and my then-husband and I probably both had undiagnosed ADHD, that mostly we just waited daylight savings out with that clock. For months the clock would just be an hour off, but lucky for us, when the clocks changed again, we didn’t have to change that one. It was already right.
Well it’s 7:11 a.m., and I’ve had my coffee so it feels more like 6:45 now. I think we might be able to leave the house before 8:00, which will feel maybe like 7:00.
The trip to visit my daughter is 4 hours long. I wonder if today it will feel more like 3.
That’s how this Daylight Savings thing works, right?
Oh, Finn. I’m trying to write a poem
for you!
A slice of birthday writing
for you!
A love poem
for you!
A distinguished gentleman, your love more than genuine…
But the sun is out and for you…
A sniff-ari walk is the only thing you want to do
And so you annoy me, paw at my hands, don’t let me type
put the puppy dog eyes on strong. Oh, you!
I forgive you, of course
because just look at that face
Since you were a baby, without any gray, you knew how to get your way.
Your favorite treats, that list would be long, but carrots, popcorn, cucumbers would come in strong.
I’m just saying, if I didn’t have to wrestle my arm from you, I would write you a Birthday poem, Finn.
Roses are red
You are black, with gray
I can’t finish this poem
Because it’s a sunny day
Oh, Finn! I know You want to go out. Walks are fun, but don’t discount laying sun, and sniff-aris to sniff around a ton.
I can’t believe you’re nine! A distinguished, still spoiled canine.
I think I have the dust from 500 old books under my nails and in my nose
but
there are
so
many
things
(not just books)
in a school closet
post its
magnets
foam rectangles
yarn (in tangles)
buttons, beads
soil, seeds
toilet paper tubes
and unifix cubes
exactly how many popsicle sticks does one grade level need?
I have wise words for anyone who, like me
can’t concentrate on report cards until a closet is clean—
don’t do it yourself, you need to be a we, a team!
sorting, storing, supporting
throwing away trash, moving bin upon bin
hoping the trash can still has room for more trash to fit in
finding more popsicle sticks at every turn
(the amount of stuff in this closet was a real concern)
lucky for me
I teach with Becky
who seems to agree
that a big job is an adventure
and adventures are better with laughter
I’m accepting gold stars for making myself go to my canceled, rescheduled, canceled, rescheduled dentist appointment today.
I really didn’t want to go. My day was already a day. Plus it’s a new dentist since my dentist retired and he’s’ nice enough but he’s not my dentist. I mean, he’s my dentist, but he’s not . . . My dentist. Just my new dentist.
My new dentist asked me what I teach, and then he threw me off. He asked me if I was Pennsylvania born and bred, and then, get this, he said “Oh, great! And you’re still working?”
Um. Do I look like I’m retired? How old do you think I am?
It was a long day, that’s all. I might be in my pajamas because it was pajama day at school today, but I’m not retired! It’s the kind of day it’s been. I’m just plain tired.
Speaking of planes.
My son is on one flying to Zurich after being stuck in Philadelphia since yesterday. Then he’s off to Spain.
So maybe I’m a little on edge.
I apologized to my student teacher today, I explained I was feeling the anxiety creep in. He said, “I can tell,” with raised eyebrows.
Cool, cool, cool.
It’s the kind of day it’s been.
But, it was pajama day which I fully support. (Suggestion: Maybe once a week would be appropriate.)
Lucky for me, I got to go to the dentist today, in my pajamas, with my anxiety. That’s sarcastic luck, friends. It’s the kind of day it’s been.
The hygienist, making conversation, as they do, said “Oh when my son, he’s 19 now, a few years ago he convinced me to watch Sweet Magnolias. Have you watched that? It’s a really sweet show about a group of women who are there for each other through all the ups and downs of life. The little town they live in is just full of people looking out for each other.”
I laughed, even though her hands were in my mouth, and she took a break, as they do, so I could respond.
“Well I guess there are different kinds of teenage sons,” I started, “because my 18 year old son, a few years ago, he convinced me to watch Breaking Bad. I feel like that might be the opposite kind of show.”
She asked me if it was a good show, and what it was about. I told her the basics, and then said, “it’s actually a really great show once you get past the episode where they have to get rid of the body with the acid. And you have to be okay with the violence and the drugs and the language.”
“Oh, so just those things to get past?” She said, and we laughed.
I don’t think we talked much after that. It’s the kind of day it’s been.
But, when I was leaving she said, “Breaking Bad? I’m going to try it.” The hygienist in the next room looked out at us and said, “Breaking Bad? Are you corrupting Renee?”
I am. It’s the kind of day it’s been.
Wait until I tell her about Better Call Saul.
I walked into the small town airport bathroom and a young man was fixing his hair.
“Oh!” He said. “Is this the women’s?”
I told him I thought it was, but I didn’t care. We both went to look at the sign outside the door.
“Yep, it’s women’s. But no big deal.” I explained.
He apologized.
He left.
That’s it.
I might have cried a couple times today.
Did you know that kids don’t really know Puff, the Magic Dragon anymore? Well they don’t. Yet another reason I am feeling O. L. D.
Today someone wanted to use the word puff in a poem and I said, “Puff? Like the magic dragon?”
I got blank stares all around although one kid said, “Yea, I think so…”
So I sang a little bit of it, feeling old, wondering why we don’t play a little Peter Paul and Mary anymore.
It was fun to sing with the kids – well not with, but to the kids. Even through they looked at me like I may have finally lost my mind.
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee
Little Jackie Paper loved that rascal Puff
And brought him strings, and sealing wax, and other fancy stuff
So cheery! A magic dragon! But, when’s the last time you listened to that song?
Because, it’s a sad one, dude! SAD!
A dragon lives forever, but not so little boys
Painted wings and giant’s rings make way for other toys
One gray night it happened, Jackie Paper came no more
And Puff, that mighty dragon, he ceased his fearless roar
His head was bent in sorrow, green scales fell like rain
Puff no longer went to play along the cherry lane
Without his lifelong friend, Puff could not be brave
So Puff, that mighty dragon, sadly slipped into his cave
I might have started tearing up as soon as I sang, “A dragon lives forever, but not so little boys!”
Did I tell you that tomorrow my little boy travels to Spain for like a million days? (Okay, he’s 18 and it’s for a week and a half.)
Today, I might have cried when I was telling him how proud I am of him for all his hard work lately.
Today, I might have cried telling my parents how anxious I was about him traveling so far away.
But my first cry was this morning when I accidentally started singing Puff, the Magic Dragon. So I’m blaming Peter Paul and Mary, I guess.
My “now stop your couch coffee and get up to get ready for school” alarm just blasted on my phone. But, my cat is so cute and sweet and I’m not done with my coffee and also what if I wrote instead of rushing to shower?
Maybe I can pause this morning before I start.
It’s quiet here in my family room, I can only hear the noise of my heater kicking on, and the cat is purring and doing that little squeak meow she likes to do. Aside from those quiet noises, it’s just me, and the clicking of my keyboard. Morning ASMR, I guess.
Any minute the dog will realize I left the bed and I’ll hear his tap tap tap coming down the stairs. I’ll take him out, even though I’m cold just thinking about it. I’ll feed the cat and the dog, grab my laundry from the dryer and head upstairs. I’ll shower and get dressed in my spirit day animal print. (Can you believe I have animal print?) I’ll wake up the teenagers, remind them that it’s trash day, reheat my coffee, cut up an apple to bring to school, fill up my water, yell to the kids to please, for goodness sake come down and give me a hug before I leave. “Don’t forget to take out the trash and recycling!” I’ll probably say, before adding another “I love you! Have a good day!” You can never have enough of those Love You’s called out to grouchy morning teenagers, you know? Then I’ll rush out the door, at least 10 minutes later than I had originally hoped, drive to school with my morning music blasting, and the Monday at school will officially start. I’ll be teaching kids in an hour and a half or so – and that hour and a half will go so very quickly.
Now the cat has gone off to do her cat things again, my coffee got cold halfway through the cup, and I might have heard the dog jump off the bed. But I think the sun is starting to light the morning, so it must be time to actually stop my couch coffee and get up to get ready for school.
But it sure was peaceful, my fleeting morning pause.
Guilt.
I wonder what it feels like
to have
Real Guilt
Capitalized on purpose
Guilt
Betrayed your family
Guilt
Cheated on your wife
Guilt
Committed a crime
Guilt
it’s bad enough
to have
sitting on the couch
guilt.
did I work enough on Sunday
guilt
ordered take out for dinner again
guilt
didn’t take the dog on a second walk
guilt
baby guilt
lower case
guilt
is enough
guilt
for me
The kids are back from special, and it’s our “chill out time.” Soft music plays, the lights are low and everyone does the quiet thing they need to do to get ready for the rest of the day. Some kids are coloring, some are reading, some are resting.
A 7 year old asks me if I want to learn how to make an origami Peter Pan hat he invented. He looks at me with wide expectant eyes.
“Yes. Yes of course I do.”
Yes is the only right answer.
He reaches for the closest paper from my table, a piece of purple from our poetry work. But, I ask him to use orange because every time copies come, there’s more orange paper stuck between the copy sets. We have a lot of orange paper.
He’s fine with orange, but I wonder if I should have offered green. It is Peter Pan, after all.
I have to concentrate to keep up with the directions, but I do it.
“Fold in half.
Fold in half again.
Fold three down in a triangle shape this way.
Fold the other piece down the other way.
Puff it out, and it’s a Peter Pan hat!”
We put our hats on our heads, and pose for a picture.
“What a cool hat you figured out!” I tell him.
He smiles, shakes his head. “The funny thing is, Ms. Gabriel, I just accidentally made this! I wasn’t even trying to make a Peter Pan origami hat!”
Across my table another student looks up and says, “That looks just like the origami boat I know how to make.”
The timer goes off, it’s been 5 minutes already, and now it’s time for math!
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