Part of Slice of Life Tuesday Slices on Two Writing Teachers! Join in and write on Tuesdays!
I took my son back to school tonight — fall break is over. We talked about egoism and empathy for most of the trip. But, with five minutes of the ride left, I gave him some reminders. I think he really appreciated my sound bites of advice. 18 year-olds usually do. “I get a hug!” I said, as we pulled into the parking lot, and he said, “Okay, but it has to before I grab all my stuff.” Spoiler alert: I gave him one hug before and one after. Plus, as he crossed the street, I yelled, ”Goodbye! I love you!” And he said it return. I win! I drove back, betrayed Sheetz for a Wawa coffee stop — which I like better, I have to admit, Wawa coffee. Maybe it’s nostalgia, I don’t know. Now I’m home, in time for bed. I’m hoping the melatonin wins against the coffee on this school night.
22 is one more than 21 that big important birthday everyone gets all excited about but you don’t even really like to drink you’d rather make tea which you keep adding bags and more water to for hours before heading off to bed
22 is 2 elevens which is, you know middle school not anyone’s finest hour, but somehow you were still you not still the quiet preschooler, not yet the confident young woman just sweet enough to get away with the snippy of early adolescence
22 is 11 twos two they call terrible but you were mostly just the most adorable you could ever imagine with those cute red stripes on your pajamas and the curl of your hair your voice figuring out all the words and you already loving to draw and make playdoh creations mostly with Granny You did always want a banana as a bed time snack, which you wanted to peel yourself, but couldn’t. “Nin nana!” You would demand. You called yourself Nin. I guess I remember a few terrible tantrums about that. I used to try to sneak help you – digging my nail into the place right under the banana stem and praying you didn’t notice You mostly noticed. Like you noticed if I started to fall asleep reading about Charlie Mouse in the Richard Scary book we read every night. “You made a mistake!” You’d laugh at me, and for some reason that became a demand for the book. You wanted me to make a mistake, or the book wasn’t worth reading anymore.
22 is 22 ones when you were one you toddled around nursed to sleep each night probably waking up a lot – remember you were a backwards sleeping baby Slept through the night until 4 months or so, and then never again as a baby you talked somewhere I have a list of all the words you said at that age ”mo,” when you wanted more, and at some point that year you started calling grapes “erdeps.” “Nin, mo erdeps?”
22 is 1 twenty-two Makes no sense because you were just a baby doing that baby elbow stretch in your zip up pajamas attached to me all day and now you are this actual grown up a friend who makes me tea and makes me proud
Part of Slice of Life Tuesday Slices on Two Writing Teachers! Join in and write on Tuesdays!
They filled the vases with tulips, red, orange, yellow, bright Her favorite flowers, of course they bloomed in spring The bouquets now brought a sort of comfort to the night
There were candles, too, flickering a calming light Pictures laid on tables, memories of everything They filled the vases with tulips, red, orange, yellow, bright
Tall candlesticks she painted, colorful with height People in a line, hoping company could lessen the sting The bouquets now brought a sort of comfort to the night
Her favorite orange, in tulips signify a zest for life And she would want us to wear joy, not a mourning ring They filled the vases with tulips, red, orange, yellow, bright
Tulips are for those you love with all your might For husbands, wives, siblings and offspring The bouquets now brought a sort of comfort to the night
Tulips lined the funeral home, to remind all to delight Grieving loved ones swirled out the door, her life celebrating They filled the vases with tulips, red, orange, yellow, bright The bouquets now brought a sort of comfort to the night
It’s April, so I’m writing. Today from an EthicalELA prompt from a few days ago: Villanelle on the Vine It’s not perfect, but it’s my first Villanelle. And since I grew up with Mary as my second mom, mom of my best friend, and I can remember her telling me my drawings didn’t need to be perfect, I think she would be okay with me just giving this a solid try.
Depending on when you met me I’ve been a daughter, a sister, a friend a girlfriend, a wife – until that came to an end I’ve been a mother, now I’ll always be one
Depending on when you met me I might have been a new mom, a mom of 1 or 2 or 3 A mom of young kids, home on family rearing leave, or teaching, somehow teaching with babies at home. If you didn’t meet me then, you wouldn’t have known – My kids used to love to hang out with me, before they were grown
Depending on when you met me? I mean, wow. Me? I’ve been a babysitter, a daycare worker, a teacher, of course a coach. until that came to an end then a teacher again somewhere in there my kids grew up and my husband betrayed me
Depending on when you met me I might have been crying a lot or laughing a lot writing a lot I bet you want more details Depending on when you met me
This slice is part of of the March Slice of Life Challenge on Two Writing Teachers! #sol25. I’m slicing every day in March. Thanks for stopping by!
I woke up around 5:45, and realized I was hearing my son taking out the garbage. At first I was sure this must have meant he never went to bed. A bunch of guys were over last night, and they didn’t have school today, so whatever.
But when I went downstairs and asked him, he said, “Nope. I told you I’d wake up at normal time and take out the trash. So I did.”
He even took all the trash out of the old trash can to put in the new trash can.
Yea. We have new trash cans, a new trash service actually, and it’s been a lot of drama about this new refuse collection. To be honest, it’s been annoying. A new service so you need a new trash can, and they promise it’s cheaper, but it doesn’t seem like that. And oh, you have to choose which trash can you want based on size. If you don’t choose, the large bin will be assigned to you. Your bill will be dependent on what bin size you choose, but you should probably get the big one anyway because anything outside of the trash can is going to cost extra, and by the way no more bulk trash, but you can get something extra picked up 4 times a year. But wait, is that four times or four things. And by the way don’t put your trash can out until the April 1st weekly collection but we will deliver it way earlier than that.
As I drove away this morning, I laughed to myself about all the drama of these stupid trash cans.
I texted my neighbor when I came home a month or so ago and saw the trash can had been dropped off in my driveway. It was confusing because I had just too many trash cans.
“Are we supposed to put these out?”
She sent me a picture of the tag which I hadn’t really read. Use it April 1st. Not before.
Okay. I will follow directions. So I stored the new trash can until today.
If I hadn’t been rushing this morning I would have stopped to take a picture of my new trash can on its first day at work. I thought about the funny signs I could have it hold up.
When I got home after school, I started to take my new trash can back in the garage, noticing that my son had already put the old trash can away, leaving space for the new trash can. I wondered if the new giant trash can would fit where the old one fit. I wondered when I could stop thinking about this stupid new trash can.
Then I realized it was still full.
I texted my neighbor.
“Did they pick up your trash?”
And then like a movie montage, I figured it out.
It’s March 31. The old trash truck came and wouldn’t pick up the new bin. The new trash truck doesn’t come until next week, after April 1, so no. . . it is not yet time to stop thinking about this new trash can drama.
I took the dog for a walk and noticed other people had the new trash cans out. I’m glad to not be so alone in my embarrassment.
Lucky for me when I checked the mail, I got the bill for the new trash collection, and an included flyer that reminded me to Begin to use your new cart on Tuesday, April 1. Do not use your cart before then.
This slice is part of of the March Slice of Life Challenge on Two Writing Teachers! #sol25. I’m slicing every day in March. Thanks for stopping by!
For some reason I started reorganizing my desk area today. Soon enough, I hated it all. I want to declutter, but that’s a summer job, not a my kids are at special job.
“I hate this all.” I said to my student teacher and my partner teacher. I picked up a big golden bell that I’ve had for years.
“That’s a great bell.” One of them said to me right as I said, “Should I throw this away?”
Of course they were shocked, why would I throw such a great bell away?
“Do you use it?” My partner teacher asked.
I rang it and said, “I used to. It’s a great bell. But, it says ‘# 1 Teacher: Ms. Feinberg’ on it.”
We talked briefly about how we might re-label my bell so it would not have my old married name on it. But alas, it is carved into metal. I put it back on my shelf to think about later, and went to get something in the hallway where I saw the para next door.
She asked how I was, and of course, I said, “I’m fine but I started organizing and now I hate everything and probably need to throw away my bell.” I have this problem of actually answering how I am when people ask.
I marched back in my room, grabbed my bell, told my para I was throwing it away. She was aghast. Like I said, it’s a great bell. But when I showed her the name on the bell, she understood.
I thought there should be some ceremony to this, so I took a picture, rang the bell one last time and threw it away.
Decluttering is like divorce I guess.
I have lots of ways to expand on that analogy, but I’ll let you make your own analogy adventure.
This slice is part of of the March Slice of Life Challenge on Two Writing Teachers! #sol25. I’m slicing every day in March. Thanks for stopping by!
“So this all started with a hug,” the doctor said just a couple of hours ago.
I laughed and said maybe I’d write a story called that: “It started with a hug.”
I had just told him that my 18 year old had lifted me in a bear hug on Sunday, and I had been in excruciating pain since an hour after that.
Before that, I had told the x-ray technicians the story. Before that, I had told the LPN the story. Before that, I had told the RN the story. Before that, I had told my chiropractor the story. He popped my rib back in place, told me to ice it every hour, and to come back on Friday.
Way before that I had told my son, “If I have to go to the doctor because of this and tell them this embarrassing story I’m going to be very upset.”
The respiratory specialist getting my EKG ready actually loved the story. She said her brother still lifts up her mom all the time. We laughed about how teenagers are either ignoring you, or hugging you until you break.
The LPN said, “Well, you’re still young. When you are elderly, that will definitely crack a rib. It’s why we don’t like to perform CPR on the elderly. They say they want all of the things, but…”
Speaking of quotable quotes, the doctor said to me, very seriously, “I’m going to turn my brain off for this one, and just pretend it doesn’t make sense that you chest hurts after that hug. I mean, how strong is your son, do you think you have multiple fractures or something? It’s probably just some discomfort, but we’ll just do the full chest pain protocol.”
I couldn’t let it slide, so I smiled sweetly and said, “Oh good. That’s just what I like my doctors to say about their brains.”
Good news! My ribs aren’t cracked, I don’t have random pneumonia, and my heart was not attacking. It was an annoying 4 hours at the hospital, but at least I know that this is most likely just a muscle strain, taking its time to heal. Oh, and also the hospital has a stronger NSAID than advil, so I think that’s helping too.
Not so good news. . . I’m not sure the doctor will ever turn his brain back on.
This slice is part of of the March Slice of Life Challenge on Two Writing Teachers! #sol25. I’m slicing every day in March. Thanks for stopping by!
Another person asked me today, “How long until you can retire?” So basically now I have a complex. I mean, I’m using the under eye cream my daughter gave me for Christmas, so what’s going on, folks?
I drove by my old street today and told my dog, “Hey! That’s where I used to live when I was a kid, right there.” I pointed and he turned his head to look out of the window. Totally normal, nothing to see here.
Somehow today I didn’t do any school work. None! This should feel relaxing, but it turns out… not so much. I guess it doesn’t matter how much you work during Spring Break, you still won’t feel ready for school to start again.
Today my son flew back from Spain, he’s on his way from JFK right now so I am playing a little game called “How much TV can I watch to pass the time?” In other news, there are never enough Thin Mint cookies, and it doesn’t really matter how many you buy.
This slice is part of of the March Slice of Life Challenge on Two Writing Teachers! #sol25. I’m slicing every day in March. Thanks for stopping by!
“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?
On a Thought 