#sol16 March 1 Slice

March 1, 2016Uncategorizedonathought

 I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March.  You should do it too!  Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing! 



Slice!

March 1
Dust off the blog
Find time to write
at lunch
after bedtime
early morning

March
Warn friends and family.
“You might be in a slice.” 
“This is a slice.” 
Jot notes on phone
to remind myself of funny moments
made incomprehensible --
jumbled by autocorrect

March lens 
find focus in
moments 
minutes
feelings
lessons

March on!
Gather ideas
celebrations
poetry
lists

March, every day.
Warm up my brain
When? Why? Where?
find a slice

Every.
Day.

March - Read.
March - Reflect.
March - Write.

March - Slice.

Hearts & Muscles – A book… pre-review

February 18, 2016What Are You Reading?onathought

Shhh… I’m fairly sure you aren’t supposed to write about a book you are ABOUT to read but haven’t read yet

I’m not exactly a rule follower.

In my head, I’ve been writing a post about nonfiction. I’ve been calling it “Falling in Love with Non Fiction.” (Just a little homage to one of my favorite books, Falling in Love with Close Reading by Kate Roberts and Christopher Lehman.) Everyone seems to be talking about how important nonfiction is. “We need to teach our students how to enjoy, how to read, how to understand nonfiction.” I get it! I’m on it. I hear you, nonfiction pushers! Reading Nonfiction: Notice and Note is next in my professional book pile, I promise. Just testerday I told a teacher that I can feel my brain beginning to switch over from thinking people just need to chill out – to really seeing past the common core and PSSA reasons. I understand the heart of why kids need to be reading more nonfiction: We need to teach kids to be life-long learners via nonfiction reading. They need to know how to get and understand information. See? It was going to be my next post. I have a lot to say about it. But not right now.

Last night I fell extra in love with fiction, even though I haven’t read this book yet.

My college friend’s new book is getting a lot of publicity (one of my favorite interviews is on NPR here). So, when I heard Sunil would be at the local bookstore, I jumped at the chance to say hello, hear him speak, and of course get my book signed. Mr. Thought couldn’t come, so it was just me and the kids. Three tired kids. Three tired kids who learned a ton. (And one tired mama who took notes on her phone!)

We walked in just as he was reading some inappropriate language. Oops.

(I don’t think my kids heard it all… and what they hear, we talked about: “He’s a grown up. He used those words for a reason. He’s a writer. . .” and as H put it, “He was just using it as a describing word, mom.”)

It was almost bed time, and E asked a couple of times, “When will he be done talking? I’m thirsty for water.” But, they listened. I love that my kids heard a published author talk about writing, and hard work, and empathy.

I heard these things too. I heard Sunil tell the story of how his finished manuscript was stolen. How he had to start again. My teacher brain yelled, “Perseverance! Stamina! Grit!” I heard him talk about how you have to write every day – you have to “sit at the desk every morning and hope the muse meets [you] there.” My teacher brain yelled it again, “Stamina! Structure to guide creativity!” Sunil said he loves the sound of words, but that meaning is more important than sound. My writer brain is thinking on that. Then he said that his book is about people, and empathy. My whole brain just nodded in agreement: Empathy! In his NPR interview, Sunil says, “We live in an age where revolution — you don’t need to pick up a rifle. Sometimes empathy is enough. Sometimes empathy is a revolutionary thing.” Empathy. I think we need empathy at least just as much as we need facts.

Sunil talked about why this book, about the real life Seattle WTO protests of 1999 was a fiction book. He could have written nonfiction; the protests were a real event. I’m sure there was enough drama during the protests to write a hefty piece of informational writing. Pardon my paraphrasing here… He said he chose to write this as fiction because that way he could make connections and expand on characters. His fiction book happens during the protests in 1999, but the book teaches us more than that. It teaches us about people–their good and evil side, and about current events that parallel those in 1999. It connects to past riots, and those sure to come. It gives characters– people– a voice for what is in their hearts. This was a good reminder to me about one of the reasons I love fiction: Fiction teaches. It isn’t false or just pretend. Fiction books have stories that teach us, sometimes even more than nonfiction.

I’m looking forward to reading this book. So here’s my book pre-review… I think it’s going to be awesome, and I give the book reading, discussion and signing 5 stars.

Slices of Valentine’s Season

February 16, 2016Family, Reflections on teaching, Slice of Lifeonathought

This is part of Two Writing Teachers’ Slice of Life. Find out more, and join in here.

Valentine’s Day has never been my favorite holiday. I can take it or leave it. I don’t need overpriced roses, a giant teddy bear or a big heart of chocolate.

For as long as I’ve been a teacher, I’ve turned Valentine’s Day into a celebration of affirmations and appreciations. It’s a tradition that my kids’ school does in every classroom, and I’ve mostly stolen it from them. Every student writes to every other student: A true compliment, affirmation, or message of appreciation. Every year my students are nervous. They don’t believe they will be able to say something nice about everyone in the class. They don’t believe people will have nice things to say about them. Every year they are wrong. Every year it is a wonderful day of school: We pass out affirmations, read them and celebrate how amazing we all are.

I love watching my own kids create their Valentine’s every year too. In kindergarten all of the work is done in school, but by the time kids are in second or third grade, some must be done at home. Especially if you are working slowly at school, like certain 9 year olds I know… H was concerned because he wanted each affirmation to be special. It was a flashback to last year, which was the first year he agonized over each shape.

Last year, H’s friend who liked cheese got his Valentine affirmation written on a 3-D wedge of cheese crafted from construction paper. This year he made a miniature version of one friend, a detailed picture of Spongebob farting for a classmate that loves Spongebob and humor. There was a mustache, balloons, a finger trap and more. Each classmate was thoroughly thought about before H decided what shape, picture and decoration should go on his creation. He had already written the actual affirmations at school. (Thank Goodness.) Each time I tried to convince him that it would go more quickly if we just cut out some hearts, he would respond with frustrated concern, “I don’t want some kids to get boring ones. That would just hurt their feelings.” I so appreciated the creativity and kindness behind his mission. But the amount of hours spent, construction paper dropped on the floor, and tears over making things perfect was maybe a bit much for my personal stress-level!

My big kids celebrated Valentine’s Day on Thursday, and that night I listened as they read their affirmations from their classmates.

“You are so helpful.”

“I always picture you as a scientist when you grow up.”

“You are humorous and kind”

“You are great pal to hang around with”

My daughter even wrote heartfelt affirmations for her brothers, who drive her crazy most days.

Image 1.jpg

“Maybe Valentine’s Day is one of my favorite days.” I thought for a moment, as my heart gave a little tug, “Maybe I have time to write affirmations for my students.” I reminded myself that not only did I not have time… I’m also not their teacher any more!

Checking in on Facebook, I was met with a Facebook memory from last year’s Valentine’s Affirmation Party Eve.

That was a little heart-tugging too, but I got over it. “It’s nice to not have to write 50 love poems this year,” I told myself.

My first meeting at school on Friday was with a teacher who used to teach at my kids’ school and was my daughter’s teacher. I noticed her morning message was about their Valentine’s Day party and affirmations. I was wistful, but okay.

I headed over to the middle school, where I found a book with my name on it on the lost and found table. When I walked into my old classroom to put the book away, I found my students passing out compliments, with construction paper hearts at their tables. I still may have been okay, if the kids didn’t shout hello… if one of the boys hadn’t jumped up and given me a hug… if another hadn’t said, “Wait! I have something for you!” as he ran out to his locker to get me a box of chocolates.

If not for the hug and the box of chocolates, I might not have gone back to my office to cry.

Maybe Valentine’s Day is more important to me than I thought. It is one of the touchstones of each school year. Years ago, I tried to explain this idea to an intern. I wanted her to understand that a school year has an ebb and flow, and know that there are certain benchmarks, like seasons to the energy of both teaching and learning. This year, leaving the classroom in January, I am reflecting on that ebb and flow. Certain seasons, like Valentine’s, I miss. However there are some I won’t be shedding tears over this year. (Can you say PSSAs?)

What season of teaching do you love?

A slice of The Fools

February 2, 2016Family, Slice of Lifeonathought

This is part of Two Writing Teachers’ Slice of Life. Find out more, and join in here.

If you were here with me, in my little corner office,

you might expect it to be a quiet little writing spot. Oh, but you’d be mistaken.

Since sitting down to write my slice (which was going to be about choice in reading), an entire band has assembled. We have banjo, djembe, voice (complete with microphone) and crazy 6 year old either bothering everyone or using the makeshift drum.

I think this started after dinner when the kids were inventorying our musical instruments. Fast forward to my writing session, and suddenly I was overhearing this:

“Who wants to be banjo?”

“I’m the leader.”

“No you’re not. I start it! “

“That is not a weapon. We will not treat musical instruments like that.” (That’s Mr. Thought chiming in.)

“Shhhhh… We’re going to have a concert.”

“Everyone be quiet! Our performance area is in here. Oh mommy’s in here. “

“That’s the office.” (Mr. Thought again.)

“Shhhhhhh”

“Stop shushing.”

“Guys! Everyone on stage!”

“What should I play? The Drum?”

“No, I’m the drum.”

“What am I?”

“You’re the trumpet.”

“What? I don’t even know how to play the trumpet.”

“Well, then just try your best.”

“Only one instrument per person!”

“Daddy – you get the drum.”

“Shouldn’t Daddy get the banjo?”

You may wonder why we have all of these musical instruments. Since the only one any one of us knows how plays is the piano.

Way back in college I bought Mr. Thought a Djembe, which he used to play some.

A few years ago, I bought Mr. Thought a banjo. Banjo lessons are on his to do list.

There’s also a trumpet and a flute, part of an odd assortment of things my parents keep bringing over to our house now that we’ve moved.

The lights are dimming… I think the show is about to begin.

L starts us off, on her microphone — a birthday gift a few years ago… nice and loud, as birthday gifts often are. “….Let me just remind you that we haven’t practiced at all. In fact, we haven’t ever picked up these instruments…”

Mr. Thought interrupts. “Can you mention that your guitarist hasn’t ever learned to play guitar?”

“You mean banjo?” I chime in.

Mr Thought doesn’t miss a beat (pun intended). “Can you mention that your banjo player has never played the ukulele?…

L continues, “Introducing, “The Fools!”

The music begins. And my banjo playing husband sternly reminds, “H! The drums should not be the dominant sound. They should be more of a background sound.”

Happy Tuesday from my Fools to you. 🙂

Celebrating Kindergarten

January 31, 2016Celebrate, Reflections on coaching, Uncategorizedonathought

This post is part of Ruth Ayres Celebrate Link up. Thanks, Ruth for this great opportunity to celebrate.

You are a new coach, trying to pop into as many classrooms as you can in between meetings and planning and other work. It’s amazing how much you learn popping into classrooms. You celebrate getting to work with so many amazing teachers every day.

You decide you need to pop into Kindergarten. You haven’t really been there yet, and it just seems like a good day to do a little pop in visit.

You walk into the first kindergarten with an open door. Children play blocks and lincoln logs as they start their day. (Every time kids get to play, you celebrate.)

You make plans with that teacher to stop by in a few minutes for reader’s workshop, and walk across the hall to pop in to another kindergarten: Everyone is dancing! You didn’t want to intrude, so you hang back at the door until the teacher smiles and invites you in, “Ms. Thought, you can join our game!” So you celebrate and dance with the 6 year olds: you stop and start with the music, and try to be as cool as these little dancers. You stay for a morning message, and calendar complete with a mystery shape game! And then literacy workshop begins. You take in the beginning literacy signs all around, with words and letters, pictures and cues: all made with fun and creativity. You listen to energetic and clear directions (Kindergarten teachers know how explicit directions need to be!) Students will go on a hunt for animals around the room, and spell them on their recording sheet when they find them. But wait! Before they go, they have to make sure they won’t be cold. Their teacher shows them a bag “Reach in without looking, pull out a scarf!”

It’s hard, but you get up, thank the teacher and walk next door, telling yourself that you’ll just pop in there for a few minutes. Reading workshop is beginning and students are choosing their first work. You stroll around, check in on the iPads, listen in to the Words Their Way lesson, and then sit on the carpet to see what books the students are looking at from their new collection. A boy sidles up to you, and you ask if you can read with him. Looking through books together, you help him with some letters, read some pages, and notice when he starts to hold your hand.

When students gather between their workshop rounds again, he sits next to you, and a few other students do to. You decide to stay for one more round. Another boy comes up and asks you to come with him to the teacher station, so you ask the teacher. “Can I come hang out with you? This friend invited me…” and she smiles, nods and reminds you not to be fooled by those eyelashes! Too late. You sit and watch the kids excitedly spell pot, mud and map in “adult spelling.” with letter tiles. You tell them they are ‘spelling superstars!’ and that you are very impressed. Mr. Eyelashes says “Me? I’m a spelling superstar?” Oh yes. He is.

You celebrate these kindergarten superstars by staying for just a little longer. You read with kids, who flock to you: you’re fast friends now. You read, you listen, you point out letters, and even try to pronounce all of the spanish words in one of the ABC books. The girl sitting with you finally says, “That’s okay- don’t worry about that one.” Your new friends sit next to you, put their arm around you, ask to sit in your lap, and ask for one more story. You partner read with one girl, and keep accidentally reading her pages. She reminds you to take her turn, and you both laugh.

You read about trains and teddy bears, dogs, coconut trees, fairy tale characters, and ABCs. You celebrate the books and their kindness. As you get ready to finally say goodbye, you tell them, “Friends, thank you for making me feel so welcome in your classroom. I had such a great time reading some of your new books with you. You were so kind to me, and that meant a lot to me. Thank you. I can’t wait to come again.” You look around at all their genuine, sweet faces. Their teacher asks them, “How does that make you feel? Here?” and taps her heart. The kids look happy, some are tapping their heart and saying “It makes me feel happy!” So you celebrate with them and feel happy too. You start to get up and Mr. Eyelashes looks up at you, “I wish you were my mommy.”

You probably deserve a medal for not crying, and you go through the rest of your day with a smile, celebrating Kindergarten!

A slice of anxiety

January 26, 2016Family, Pets, Slice of Lifeworryonathought

This is part of Two Writing Teachers’ Slice of Life. Find out more, and join in here.

You may remember this story of my worry over a bat. Ugh. Read that to get into my head a bit.

Saturday: I’m taking it easy, trying to get over this stupid cold when I decide to do a little yoga. There I am practicing cat tuck when BAM!

A small, cylindrical, brown…dropping? And another one… And another one. I groan, I vacuum, and then quick as a whip I google — all. the. kinds. of. poop. I determine that it’s mouse (not rat – phew.) and stop and read a bit about the deer mouse. Oh no. Don’t ever read about the deer mouse. I realize I shouldn’t have vacuumed it if it is a deer mouse. I ask my husband about 100 times if he thinks it was a deer mouse dropping. I find another one, I compare it. It isn’t pointy…so…it must be a house mouse. Still not good but better. Vacuuming house mouse poop is not as fatal… I ask my husband again if he thinks it could be deer mouse. We do, after all live near a lot of trees. (“No. It isn’t.” He says, again. He’s so patient with me, really. Then, “Stop googling.” Then, “Put your phone down.”) I start to feel anxious.

I wonder why our cats haven’t alerted us to this mouse problem. I wonder if the previous owners of our house had mice. I wonder if it is possibly something that the kids dragged in on the bottom of their shoes that I am constantly telling them not to wear in the house. I call my mom. She tells me to relax, that I’m going to make myself insane. I try to forget about it, but realize we are going to have to figure this out soon…I try to tell the cats to go find the mice!

Waking up Sunday morning, I decide that we need to search the house for more droppings. Mr. Thought has the idea that if it isn’t under the couch, it is probably just some sort of oddly shaped dirt from shoes. I hope it isn’t under the couch. We lift the couch to search.

There they are: 2 pieces. We find 2 or 3 more in the kitchen. We take a picture. I google. I am surprisingly relieved at first thought when I realize it more closely matches the cockroach poop. (“Stop googling horrible gross things on your phone!” Mr. Thought is not so patient any more. Who could blame him?) I google cockroaches, and we search cabinets, and corners and floors. Nothing. We search for the name of the pest company that did our old house’s pest inspection. I email the picture and a brief note to the tune of “Hi – We are settling into our new house, yada yada yada. Help! I think we have cockroaches! Please look at this crazy picture and come to our house asap!”

I start to search the dining room. I can’t believe this is my Sunday. I want to read my book. I want to not be thinking about how horrible it will be if we all get a disease from a sick mouse, or how I’m never going to be able to turn off the light for fear of cockroaches.

The pest guy emails back, “It looks like a mouse – in this weather they like to come in. I can come Tuesday to take a look.”

I continue to search the dining room. I find another one. This one is a little bigger. That’s when it dawns on me.

A week ago.

A birthday party.

Ten 6 year olds, and

a tray of cookies…with

sprinkles.

I’ll wait for you to finish laughing at me.

I’ll let you imagine how I still need to be convinced. You can picture us, on our search for more sprinkles, the whole family on our hands and knees…how my 9 year old uses the scientific method to convince me. You should know that I still vacuum everything, and wash down all the floors. I still look around the next few days just to make sure. And of course, I have to email the pest guy back… “So, this is embarrassing because I’m pretty sure it was actually chocolate sprinkles from my 6 year old’s birthday party. I’ll let you know if anything changes…”

Moral of the story? Vacuum the whole house after a party — don’t wait for the next weekend. (Duh.) And maybe listen to your mom when she tells you to stop freaking yourself out. (Double Duh.)

Mr. Thought took pictures of the cookies at the grocery story for further proof. No more “droppings” have been found in the house. The case of the deadly sprinkle poop is over.

Knock on wood.

I believe I have homework.

January 14, 2016Reflections on coachingonathought

My coaching team gave me homework. It’s due tomorrow: What do I believe about coaching? What do I wonder about coaching?

I’m thinking that it won’t quite get the big-thinking job done if I say, “I wonder what I believe.” (Maybe an A+ for creative effort?)

I believe I have a lot to learn.
I believe listening is powerful.
I believe I need to 
shut myself up more
I believe that silence can be scary,
that not knowing what someone is thinking is hard
but that listening to understand matters

I believe I will need a daily reminder:
"It's not about you, Mrs. Thought"
so that I won't take things personally
and I will lose the ego,
be open to everyone's positive intentions
relationships matter

I believe I will learn much
from many 
amazing
people
1 day in classrooms, and I have a list started: "Fabulous ideas to take back to myclassroom!"
I believe teachers matter 

I believe I will love my time with kids too
Today I laughed with primary students,
and later hugged almost 50 of my 6th graders (yes, they will always be mine!)
I believe kids matter 
(plus they're fun...Scene:classroom mini lesson on surveying text. Teacher asks, "what does 'survey' mean?" Student responds, "It's a type of non-dairy ice cream." ...pause, questioning glances... Teacher asks,"Really, is it?" Student thinks and then says, "Oh. That's sorbet.")
Smiling matters, laughter matters, fun matters.

I wonder
Will I help?
Will I be able to focus in?
Will I mess up my google calendar?
How long will I be living outside of my comfort zone?
Since wondering matters, learning matters, and stepping outside of your comfort zone matters... I believe I'll keep wondering.

A Slice out of the Comfort Zone

January 12, 2016Reflections on coaching, Slice of Lifeonathought

This is part of Two Writing Teachers’ Slice of Life. Find out more, and join in here.

Yesterday was my first day “on the job” as an instructional coach. After a meeting, a few emails, and a stop at one of my schools, I headed over to the PIIC conference and spent the rest of the day with over 100 Instructional Coaches. Talk about a first day! Surrounded by people who actually know what they are doing was wonderful of course — and I also found myself going “meta.” I kept thinking about what I was thinking — what it felt like to be new. Honestly before this year I had never even heard of PIIC. Walking into the conference I had no idea what to expect, and I paid attention as my brain took it all in. When is the last time you were in a totally new situation with all new people? It doesn’t happen to me very often. If I’m in a new situation, I usually try to bring a friend. Or, I research it a lot so I know what to expect. But if I think about it – the last totally new situation I was in was when I started taking yoga last year. I just don’t do it very often… because it’s scary! When you are new, you walk in and you think everyone else knows… knows each other, knows the content, knows better. Sometimes one or all of those assumptions are correct, and sometimes none of them are.

I noticed my brain as I sat at my assigned table with all new people. I was trying to take it all in, frame my brain to this culture and its norms and inside jokes. I held my breath and hoped not to be “voluntold” to answer a question because my brain was still working to catch up with the “new.” After the introduction, I stayed for “Coaching 101,” while the rest of my district colleagues went off to their choice sessions. I was at a table full of people who were at their first PIIC conference too, but they had much experience as instructional coaches. On each table was a picture of a vehicle, and we were asked what it represented in terms of instructional coaching. I laughed at what was sure to be the first of many conversations where my voice would be quiet and non-essential! When my turn came to share, I simply said “Well, that car looks new! I’m new too. This is my first day.”

I said a variation of that many times over the course of the day. The response was generally astonished delight. “How lucky to start at this conference!” and “Nothing like throwing you into the fire!” were common answers. (Also, “Don’t expect snacks like this every day on the job!”)

This morning it occurred to me that this has happened before! Soon after getting my first job and finding out I would be teaching second grade, I was sent to a conference with a 2 other second grade teachers – a conference all about second grade! I had no idea what I was getting into then… and that was a great year. So, there’s hope!

When I walked into the conference today the quote on the screen was appropriate:

“Your comfort zone is a place where you keep yourself in a self-illusion; nothing can grow there. Your potentiality can grow only when you can think and grow out of that zone.” – Rashedur Ryan Rahman.

Well, nobody could say I’m in my comfort zone this week!

Celebrate Endings

January 10, 2016Celebrate, Uncategorizedonathought

This post is part of Ruth Ayres Celebrate Link up. Thanks, Ruth for this great opportunity to celebrate.

Years ago, it was the last day of school and my intern started a compliment circle with our class. Each person would choose one other person to gift a compliment. I crossed my fingers that nobody would feel left out. A boy, I’ll call him Dave, raised his hand to go first. Dave had seemed to not care about school much all year. He sometimes gave a little attitude, and he struggled with getting his work done. I tried to hold him accountable, and I definitely felt that I wasn’t one of his favorite people. Dave looked over and said, “I choose Mrs. Thought.” and proceeded to tell me how I was his favorite teacher, and how much he appreciated me.

I believe I celebrated that by crying. Ends of school years have always been emotional for me. I am pretty sure I scared my second graders at the end of my first year of teaching. I sobbed as they left the classroom for their summer. I couldn’t believe the year was over, the kids were leaving — and I didn’t have a job lined up for the next year yet! The year before last I watched as more than half of my students started crying and hugging each other before the final bell rang. That time had very little to do with me — they were just that close. I’ll never forget the 6th grade girls and boys just breaking down because 6th grade was over! When things end, I think it’s easier to appreciate what you had. I often think of it as the summer camp phenomenon, and I see it play out in June each year: This ride we’ve been on together is over, we will never be able to replicate it, and man that was a fun and crazy time!

This year, I got my June day in January. Friday was my last day with my students as their teacher. (Monday I start as an instructional coach for the rest of the year.)

After telling my classes and their parents about the upcoming change, we had a mini June at school. Everyone suddenly loved me! And, the feeling was definitely mutual. I have loved my classes all year – that’s no lie. But looking at them through the eyes of someone about to leave. . . I should have just played dramatic movie soundtracks in the background for the last few weeks; everything they said was so important and meaningful. As they shared the books they were reading I had to hush an inner voice shouting at me, “Stay! Abort mission! Don’t leave these amazing people!” But, as one of the parents told me in an email: Opportunity knocks at complicated times. I’m so excited about my new opportunity, much to celebrate in that as well! But this week was about saying goodbye.

I’m trying to live in the present — never have been one for filming things instead of just living them. However, I wish I had a camera rolling Friday during 8th period. If you’ve never had a 6th grade boy tell you with all his heart that what you’ve done means so much, if you’ve never had one hug you and tell you he loves you and that things won’t be the same without you… If you have never had a gaggle of 11 year old girls tell you that they will miss you, that the new teacher will “always be number 2, Mrs. Thought!…” I don’t know if you can understand. If you haven’t had a student play some sort of sad classical piece on his chromebook and march it towards your desk, if you haven’t had a kid run to the bathroom crying because you’re leaving… I’m not sure I can explain it to you.

Of course, I’m not celebrating that these kids are sad — I know their emotions are true right now. I also know that they will be okay. Their new teacher is passionate, excited and ready for the challenge that is 6th grade. They will love her, and I will still be around in the building. It’s all good.

Celebrate Imperfection

December 20, 2015Celebrate, Familyonathought

This post is part of Ruth Ayres Celebrate Link up. Thanks, Ruth for this great opportunity to celebrate.

I let my mom guilt trip herself into making a gingerbread house again this year. She makes such amazing houses. Open windows, and chocolate stone chimneys, tootsie roll firewood piles and powdered sugar snow. The smell of the gingerbread and the fudge glue takes me back to my childhood; and I love that it is a part of my kids’ holiday traditions too.

Things started so promising, I could almost smell that gingerbread through the texted picture:

Then this morning my mom texted again.

A roof collapse. And later, “It’s getting worse”

So tonight when the grandparents arrived with the gingerbread house, and we were warned not to laugh too hard, we were ready.

We still laughed. (Sorry mom)

We still decorated it. We tried to decide what the lesson was here. Christmas isn’t about perfection? You can decorate any situation? It’s not about the roof? Gingerbread is yummy even when it’s broken?

We laughed at our efforts – even the glue wasn’t working tonight.

Meanwhile, my mom brought another handmade gift. Another house: a paper replica of our old home. Amazing treasure.

The smell of gingerbread

The smell of gingerbread
baking 
or just sitting 
with its fudge glue
is enough

Organizing the candy
on plates
or just watching 
kids sneak a taste
is enough

Powder sugared gingerbread memories 
are perfect 
But Gingerbread time
with family
collapsed roofs and failing icing
is enough