what i got wrong, what i get right: teacher edition

i'll be the first to say that i am definitely not a perfect teacher. i never have been, nor will i ever be. that said, i've learned a lot in 26 years. let's discuss, shall we? 

you can't right wrongs until you've done them and reflected, so let's start there. you know better, you do better. i've gotten so much wrong about being an educator. 

first wrong: content over kids. 

i'm not sure when education became more about scores, papers, and performance and less about kids. kids should be our focus. content comes after. i was always trying to make sure kids got the content i thought they needed to know. there was always paperwork, score sheets, data points, and progress monitoring to do. there is a place for that, sure. we have to make sure kids can read, write, and add. i get that. here's where i went wrong: i had a first grader one year. she was a great kid. she struggled a little, but nothing we couldn't handle. what haunts me is the fact that i never noticed her stimming behavior until the last nine weeks. how did i miss that? it's embarrassing. i was so consumed by teaching, classroom management, and paperwork that i missed a big thing for this super sweet kid.  i knew then i needed to make a change. 

second wrong: behavior

when i started teaching i was fully invested in token economies. we did the classroom store. it was draining. it did nothing to help with behavior. since then, i have had clip charts, point giveaways, class dojo, you name it. i gasped in horror when we were told to stop with clip charts. i didn't know what to do with kids who misbehaved, and i can't say that i really know much more now than i did then, except that i hate clip charts and daily behavior charts. for me, it was more trouble than it was worth. i had to keep up with a constant stream of "what did my kid do to get yellow/red?" it wasn't worth it for anyone. 

third wrong: eating in the teacher's lounge

now that i stay in my room 90% of the day, i miss 100% of the drama. now i don't hear all the wrongs of the school. all of the "can you believe that..." talk. i don't hear people and their constant complaining. i don't hear all the bad stories about kids. (i still hear some, but not at the level, you know?) so if i don't hear the complaining, i don't complain myself. and i certainly don't complain to the wrong people. i love educators, but we a gossipy bunch. it's so much easier to love your work, kids, coworkers when you don't have to hear the constant bitching. 

i know there's more wrongs. maybe i will write about more later. i want to get to the good stuff. 

what i get right... here's the meat of what i've been thinking about recently. this is the good good.

first right: greeting kids at the door

i used to think this was so stupid. legit. i had stuff to do!!! folders to check, email to read, stuff to get ready. what a dumbass i was. some kids look forward to seeing you so much. you are their safe place. they adore you. and if you're not at the door anxiously awaiting their arrival? it's a gut punch to a kid. 

now greeting kids is my superpower!! i absolutely adore seeing every kid every morning. we dance, we laugh, we share outfits, nails, missing teeth. it's a wild 20 minutes every day but i LOVE it. i get to know all 600 kids in those 20 minutes. i get to love on all of those babies. i get to hear their triumphs and grievances. it is my absolute joy and privilege and my favorite part of the day. 

second right: relationships

relationships are everything. it doesn't matter if you are young or old, you work better for someone you know and who knows you. if you think your boss or teacher likes you and they know at least a little about you, you will move mountains for them. kids love to know their teachers. they need that connection to function at school. if they think their teachers don't like them they hurt, and hurt kids don't learn as well or work well for you. 

building relationships is fairly simple for me. meet kids where they are. learn about them. let them learn about you. compliment everything. notice as much about them as you can. HAVE FUN. now, i realize i am in a unique situation. i see over 600 kids a week. i don't have the stress of classroom teachers. but the joy of that is i can use the time i would spend on paperwork learning about kids and finding ways to make over them. since that is my absolute dream scenario, i am free to be who i am and want to be with these kiddos. i get to be the fun auntie. i get to be what they need. i have no fear and that is the best gift you can give a teacher or kid for that matter. 

third right: following your joy

not everyone gets to find their joy in a career. i came upon my happy place almost by accident. i never thought that teaching critical thinking, engineering, and creativity would be my jam. i am the daughter of an engineer, but that does not an engineer make. i tried learning drafting in high school which was a fail, but i liked it. that said, i wouldn't say that anything technical would be my path. i wouldn't say that what i do is in any way technical--it's more foundational in nature. i get to lay the groundwork for kids to be amazing thinkers, persistent in their pursuits, creative problem solvers, and they get to have fun while doing it. 

i found this joy called stem education when i was getting bored and sick of the regular classroom. in learning the process and how to incorporate stem, i regained the passion i had for education again. i was beyond lucky to have a supportive principal who let me do what i wanted: afterschool clubs, summer programs, build a lab, buy copious amounts of stuff, and make lots of mistakes. i can honestly say that this is my dream job. i get all the rewards of being a teacher but almost zero stress. having said that, i think that over 20 years in the classroom gives me the privilege of this position, and i deserve it based on the hard work i put into it. 

that said, you have to follow your joy. if you don't, you have no one to blame for your unhappiness but yourself. 

all in all, friends, i am lucky to be an educator. it's not a high paying pursuit. it's not stress free. i would argue that it is one of the most disrespected professions in our country. however, i am 26 years in and love it more than i ever have. i'm lucky that i get to be the safe place to over 600 kids a day. i'm lucky that i get to do the one job in the school that is the most fun ever. i'm lucky to have long lasting relationships with my students. my babies. 

this career of mine hasn't always been easy. i had a lot of "i wanna quit" moments. i've had frustrations. but the joy. the joy joy joy, my loves. it's what brings me back over and over. the babies. their successes, failures, determination, and just plain preciousness. if you're lucky, you get this opportunity, this joy. i plan on holding on to it for a good long while. 

love you, mean it. 💙💙

hardware stores and lumber smells

memories and smells. two things that go together like peanut butter and jelly. i have equated certain smells with certain people and places my whole life. they have become either my favorite things or the things in life that i avoid like the plague. 

when i was a kid, tagging along was my thing. i loved being dad's sidekick and my papa's shadow. both of these men had distinct smells. dad smelled of coast soap and spice scented speed stick with the brown stripe and cap. papa smelled of vitalis hair tonic and old spice. smelling any of that evokes vivid memories of watching them shave, splashing on old spice, and seeing them comb their hair. it is definitely a comforting thing. 

the one place that i visited with both of them when i was a kid was the hardware store. papa had worked as a contractor for many years. upon retirement, he still visited farmville manufacturing as a part of his daily rounds. it was less about acquiring building supplies and more about seeing his buddies. nevertheless, i got to go and sit on the fancy stools with the footrests, scope out nails, screws, tools, paint samples, and tape and smell the glorious smells of fresh cut lumber. 

the smell of a hardware store, home depot, or lowes is still quite a thrill. i'm a weirdo that way. i love the smell of wood, tires, fresh new plastic, potting soil, paint, and flooring. i still go with troy into those stores today and take a long deep breath upon entering. there's not much there that i really want to look at, but i love the smell. 

those smells always remind me of those times spent helping dad and papa with whatever job they were working. papa was always giving people quotes for decks, house additions, drywall installation, painting rooms, or installing windows. my uncle did most all of the work at that point. dad was always helping folks with electrical stuff--wiring new rooms, installing light fixtures, rigging christmas lights, fixing breaker boxes, pulling fresh wire. i was never the best at really being a helper for those two, but i was a decent enough sidekick. 

as i've grown up, the good smells that i equate to certain people outweigh any bad smells that remind me of not so pleasant memories. i'm thankful for that.  it goes beyond man smell and building supplies, too. i smell pies baking and think of my grannie. i smell biscuits and think of ma'b, my great grandmother. i smell coffee and think of mama and muriel. i smell cut up squid and boat engine exhaust and think of dad and his fishing crew. i smell incense or patchouli and think of lisa. i smell the beach and sunscreen and think of jessica. how lovely is that? 

what smells remind you of things, people, and places? is it the smell of fresh crayons? teachers love that one. is it the smell of fresh laundry? (i had a kid today tell me i smelled like home, which we figured out was my freshly washed sweater smell.) is it fresh cut grass? the chlorine smell of a swimming pool in the summer? i could go on for days. it's one of my favorite senses and one of my favorite ways to remember things. 

hope you all have smelled something wonderful today and it's made you think of someone or something that makes you so very happy. 

love you, mean it. 💙💙

safe, heard, and seen

this is a safe place. i declare it so, so it must be true. i think that all people need a safe place. safe from just about anything too: safe from judgement, physical harm, emotional stress. i like to think that i'm not a terribly judgmental person, unless  you do some stupid shit. i mean, if you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes, like my taytay says. 

nevertheless, i like to think i am the friend or family member that is a safe place. does that mean i want to debate anyone? no. i am not here to debate beliefs with anyone. it's really a futile pursuit. i don't wish to change minds. i don't have this need for people to understand me or my feelings. the people who already understand are my safe place and i am theirs. i only feel safe having those touchy conversations with a handful of people. i have many opposing beliefs and trains of thought from the average person in this community. do i feel safe in talking about that with just anyone? no. duh. i feel safe doing so here, because honestly, i have no idea who reads this silly train of thought. if they read it and like it, great. if they read it and hate it, ok--your loss. 

i think back to the not so distant past when i really needed a safe place to vent my emotional response to something. i went to the wrong people, and in turn, those people blamed me for my reaction. they couldn't help me. i am not quite sure why it was so hard for them to understand, but i know now that they weren't meant to be my safe place. maybe they were meant for other things--silliness, lightness, but never the deep emotional stuff that you think of your best friends to support. they didn't see or hear me when i went to them. and you know what? that's ok. seasons. i go back to that a lot. 

i think about my beautiful kids at school. where and who is their safe place? where do they go to feel safe, heard, and seen? a lot of times, it's school. i'm so glad that they feel that way. sometimes it's heartbreaking what they tell us. we hear about loss of people and pets, hurts, and some seriously scary stuff. sometimes it's regular kid stuff--lost teeth, big wins/losses on the ball field, how they got a new pet, how they got to get mcdonald's for dinner the night before. sometimes they want to show off their new new, which is always a good time. sometimes, we are their safe place to land when they screw up. maybe it's behavior, maybe it's an emotional outburst, maybe it's a failure of some kind.  they have to know that their teachers are there for them no matter what happens. i like to give them time in class at the beginning to 'air the grievances' so to speak. sometimes it's what they need more than the content i'm trying to get to in a 45 minute block of time. it's a honor that they consider us to be a safe place to land, share, and vent. 

in the past almost three years, i've had two pretty big life events. since i've had bariatric surgery and had a child come out as transgender, i have had many people come to me with questions. they want to know about my surgery, weight loss journey, and how that works. they want to know what it's like to have a trans kid. they want to know what that even means. they want to know more about my kid, what their new name is, what pronouns they use, what is the right/wrong thing to say/do with them. how not to offend them or me. furthermore, they relate to me their experiences with bariatric surgery or their queer child, neighbor, or friend. what a pleasure it is to have those conversations with people! i'm glad they found me a safe and open person to ask. it makes me beyond overjoyed to be able to share what i know with them and help them to continue to learn, especially about LGBTQ issues. i don't know near everything, but it's a joy to be on the journey with people who are genuinely curious and interested. 

it brings me back to being safe, heard, and seen. everyone deserves that. sometimes we look for it in the wrong places (social media, people who don't understand, nor will they ever). sometimes, we find that magic juju of a person who is our safe place for the hard stuff.  sometimes, our safe people are there for the good or concerning but not the deep stuff. that is ok too. not every person in your life needs to be there for the deepest thoughts you have. 

to have people in our lives who see us for who we are, listen to our joys and hiccups is a blessing.  be so thankful for those people, friends. think about how you are that person for someone else too. are you a soft place to land? i really hope so. now, go forth, friends, and become that safe place for someone. i think people need it this week more than ever. 

love you. mean it. 💙💙

glimmers in the midst of today

 today has been a rough day. i was a couch rot potato for the majority of the morning. my main goal was to sit there, drink some coffee, and question my life choices. and mope. have you ever had that kind of day? good lord it happens more than i want to admit. 

today, Martin Luther King Jr. day, is supposed to be a day of remembrance. a day to honor a great man who ultimately had his life ended too soon due to just plain hate. it should be the biggest embarrassment to our country--to lose a great, principled, kind, smart man to the most insane hate crime in the modern history. i would argue that the current state of hatred in our country would be a bigger embarrassment. it just never ceases to blow my mind. 

nevertheless, my mopey ass was in serious need of a glimmer of some kind. when you're mopey you don't tend to look for glimmers, but when they hit you, you realize all of the ones that were there all along. 

my beloved felix texted me several times today. i tend to take what i can get with him. my fears for him, his health, safety, and wellbeing have been at the front of my mind since the election. nothing has given me any assurance that he would be spared in terms of healthcare and safety until today. while the orange circus master was giving speeches declaring that "there are only two genders", kiddo was getting much needed assurances from his nurse practitioner. she assured him that they were fighting for his right to healthcare, for the continuation of his gender affirming care. for those of you who don't really understand the gravity of that situation, i will spare you the details for now, but suffice it to say, that statement from his NP was a major glimmer for me. i can only imagine how it must feel for him. he let me know that he is good to go for at least the next year. 

earlier this morning, as i was in my rotting potato state, i almost texted my bestie tishie to cancel our starbs date. you know i have to be foul to not want starbs or tishie time. i got a text from her confirming a time, and i let her know i was foul. she let me know, as she always does, that i could be foul and she would be there to listen. i'm so glad i dragged my ass to the shower, to pick her up, and get that starbs fix. bestie time and starbs is always a glimmer, even when you don't appreciate it for what it is in the moment. 

after dinner, troy let me know he needed to go to the store for tea....and treats. so aurora sue and i accompanied him to the freshes markets to get said items. he comes back with two bags full of treats. you must know that my ability to eat said treats is limited. this tiny tummy of mine isn't a fan of sugar even if former fat amy loves the sugar. that said, after i finish this diatribe, i am heading back upstairs to eat said corn muffins and cookies. he knows me so well. that is a major glimmer. 

friends, even when you're in a state of rotting potato, a dumpy gross mess, when your ankles are cold because your socks are too short, and when you just want to mope, there are glimmers. sometimes you have to breathe for a second to see them. when you relax long enough to appreciate them, it sure does turn it around for you. i'm not saying my hate fire is gone for the day (and hate fire is probably an understatement--i've wanted to cut everyone with a rusty blade today), but i'm feeling my body and mind calm down some. 

gratitude, glimmers, and good friends and family tend to be a balm to the mopey soul. i'm very thankful to have all of those in my life today. 

tomorrow is a new day, friends. as my other bestie and lifelong blue dot partner in crime said to me today: only 1459 more days. we got this. right? 

love you, mean it. 💙💙💙

an open book and a busted filter

 the thought that i am closer to 50 than i am to 40 isn't lost on me. half of my life is over. i've spent almost 48 years living in part for other people's wants, people's needs, people's opinions. i'm sure most women do the same thing. you start out life living by the rules of your childhood home,  you grow up, get married, live the life you and your spouse choose. you live for your spouse and your kid. then, weirdly, your kid becomes and adult and then what? it's a weird spot for sure. i'm currently learning how to navigate this new new. it makes me think of my mom and how she did it. 

i realized recently that my mom lost her filter at 50. then i realized i'm in the midst of losing mine at 47 and 11 months of age. i'm glad that she lived her life the way she really wanted in the last 8 years of her life free of the pressures of everyone's expectations and opinions. it's freeing, really to come to the realization that this is really your life to live. and what's really freeing is understanding, accepting, and living by the fact that you do, in fact, make up the rules of your life. 

so here i am, busted filter and all at 47.9 years old writing stories and becoming quite the open book. as far as i can tell, there's no real downside to being an open book and having the busted filter. what is going to happen? people withdraw from me and my views of the world? OKKKKK there miss ma'am. have we met? do i really give a shit? i'm not here to change anyone, because that shit is futile. this experience of life currently is about what i want, think, and do. 

is it selfish? maybe. no wait. that's a big hell no. i've lived 47 years, half of my life, for other people. so no, it's not selfish, nor do i see it as being selfish for anyone else either. it doesn't mean you don't care for other people anymore or that you don't help your aging parents, grandparents, or children. that would be an asinine thought. i'm also unique in that of those people, i just have an adult child to think of in terms of someone to take care of. dad's doing his thing and will forever be doing what he wants. everyone else is gone. it's kind of lonely, so you turn to yourself and what you want. 

i see a lot of people who are so involved with extended family, children, work, church, that when they get to the point i'm at, they have no clue what to do. i understand that. my kid doesn't really need me for much. but here's what: if you raise them right, they won't. it doesn't mean they don't love you, it just means they're busy living their life. that said, when you get to this point, where the only thing you have to do is nurture a marriage, work, and keep house, you get bored really quick. 

i think the boredom has led me to the path of jotting down all the ideas that are like rocks rattling around in my brain. other people craft, do home improvement projects, take up camping, start birding, or whatever. here's what: do whatever floats your boat. isn't that the great part of being a full fledged grown up, doing whatever the hell you want? it was the thing we've all wanted since we were kids--to make our own rules, eat ice cream for dinner, and go to bed whenever the hell we wanted. 

in starting to write out my random thoughts, the idea occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, someone could get the idea in their brain to live their life the way they wanted to as well. being true to yourself is probably one of the hardest things you could ever do. i also think it is one of the best things you can do to show your kids, friends, spouse who you are and what you are capable of. 

people are in a constant state of evolution, change. if you're not, friends, you gotta stop and think about why that is. we are very much in our own state of the eras tour, if you will. for now, i'm in the 'doing what i wanna do and who gives a shit what you think' era. some of you are in mom era, some of you are in single sister or brother era, some of you are in your career era, some of you are in the grannie and papa era. i know my era will change as i age and experience new things. i am especially looking forward to my 'no debt and can travel when i want' era. haha!! 

i think it's really easy to keep your thoughts and opinions to yourself. it's a pretty safe bet to be neutral, or at least to act like you are. it's another thing entirely to put yourself out there and be who you really are, regardless of how you perceive yourself to be. i've said before that i know for a fact i'm not every person's cup of tea. i'm ok with that. 

i think it's an even greater task to put out there the thoughts you have that don't line up with everyone in your world's status quo. i've written before about my lack of spiritual beliefs and why that is. i think that is likely my most controversial life choice by far, unless you count being a bleeding heart liberal. man, people around here really despise a liberal. i obviously don't care that people do. other people's opinions of me have no bearing on how i live my life. it should be like that for everyone, but i know for a fact it's not. 

for now, i'm content being an open book with a busted ass filter. never ask me what i really think if you don't want to know. and never read a blog if you don't want to know about the person writing it. 

tacos, boys, and a trip to virginia tech

one of the first things jessica and i do when on any overnight trip is this--we relive every ridiculous thing we've ever done in the 90's. troy calls it appo (as in appomattox) night. we have to get appo night done so we can tackle every thing else in the subsequent days of the trip. 

appo talk includes but is not limited to: boys, exxon, baseball, boys, the blazers, scraping together change for gas and meals, longwood, the exes, running the roads, and boys. it is our favorite thing to talk about. we haven't changed one bit in 35 years. 

yesterday i was trying to think of how to write down some of our stories. just so happens she must have been thinking about ol' ames and i got a text from her. i mentioned the idea of writing down one of our most epic adventures to date. it was about a boy, tacos, and a trip to virginia tech. i could see  and hear her laughing all the way in farmville. i got some facts straight in the story and filled in some holes. i thought on it some more and i think it's safe to say that i'm ready to share.....

Tacos, a boy, and a trip to Virginia Tech 

a little background for you: i don't remember a time when jessica and i weren't boy crazy. it was the topic of discussion from the time we were in middle school to the current day. now we mainly talk about the husbands of course, but not without a sprinkle of old school appo boys. this time, it was an older boy, from somewhere not appo. *gasp*!! hell, i don't even remember where said boy was from, but i think jessica met him doing cattle shows or some shit. as i remember it, they talked here and there but in reality, it was never anything serious. 1994 us would having us believing otherwise, but i digress. 

the other piece of background info to know is this: jessica and i were very resourceful. if we wanted to do something, we would find a way. if i didn't have gas to go somewhere, she drove and vice versa. if we needed food, whoever had money got the food. and it was hella cheap. we weren't the boojee girls then that we are now with our bottled aqua panna fancy water in atlantic city (another story for another day....). we could subsist on two tacos and water. or a cheeseburger and shared dr. pepper. or if we were really trifling, the $1 pb&j that macado's had on special in the mid 90's. 

so, it happened that when we were either juniors or seniors in high school, she was talking to this boy who was a student at virginia tech. ooooooo!!!! a COLLEGE boy!!! we hatched a plan to go see him. we took advantage of the current trend of 'family dance night' at cattle annie's, the local club in lynchburg. she had gone there a bunch with her family. i had never been, but wanted to go. let's suffice it to say that i've never been 'family dance night' to this day. cattle annie's was our cover. we scrounged through the cars, figured we had enough change for gas, and hopped in the car to blacksburg. appo to blacksburg takes two hours. had we ever driven two hours anywhere by ourselves? nope. did we care? also nope. were we nervous? um, we were only nervous about seeing the boy or getting busted by the parentals. 

we make the drive up to blacksburg. we use our precious quarters to dial up his dorm room. boy's roommate says he's at the library. like we have a clue where that even is. we promptly got pissy that our plan was foiled, but being the girls we are, we decide we need two things: gas and tacos. we prioritized gas, which was smart. we had just wasted at least two quarters calling the stupid boy, which would have bought us a taco. nevertheless, we took handfuls of change to the gas station and got us enough gas to get back to appo. then we took handfuls of pennies to taco bell. if i had to guess we each got one taco and some water. if that's not commitment i don't know what is. 

the fact that we didn't get busted is a wonder to me. the fact that we didn't run out of gas was a blessing.  the fact we didn't have nary the car problem was a miracle. the fact that we had enough change to make a call, feed us, and give us gas money was a testament to our dedication to the quest that was BOYS. 

looking back, i am thankful i had times like that with jessica. youth is supposed to be spent doing dumb shit like that. luckily, i think that is the dumbest shit we ever did beyond being in relationships with boys that were for all intents and purposes stupid shits. 

i tell my kiddo all of the time to have these experiences now--go do the dumb shit. go on adventures. live your life. if you're lucky enough to have a bestie to do it with, you're totally winning at life. i really hope that one day, he can come back to me and tell me a story that reminds me of tacos, boys, and a trip to virginia tech. 

controversial beliefs or lack thereof

i had a kid in my first grade class some years back that i absolutely adored. i had known the family for years and was so excited that i got to teach this kid. this kid was the total package (and still very much is): kind, smart, loving. i welcomed her into my classroom with open arms and much excitement. 

a bit into the school year, the mom sent me a message and wanted to relay some information about their family. if you know me, you know that i am open to just about anything, anybody, any lifestyle you may have. the mom wanted to make sure i knew that they thought i was a safe person to tell that their family was atheist. my first thought was: wow! they felt comfortable enough with me to share that? in this town? in this community? i let that sweet mama know that in no way would this affect my relationship with my sweet student or them for that matter and if anything, it was such a welcome treat to find someone in our community with similar beliefs. 

we live in the heart of bible country. it is the biggest thread that binds this community. "thoughts and prayers" is put into every comment section on facebook. to be anything else is a shock and a threat to people here. they just don't know what to do with people who are different. it makes them legit buffer, glitch. you believe what? you do what on sunday mornings? you don't have a *gasp* church?! 

it's so complicated. i was raised in a church going christian household. we went to church just like my grandparents did. we took up in the united methodist church my neighbors went to. we enjoyed the community that we had. it wasn't something we discussed with any regularity. we said our blessing before we ate every night. we attended sunday school. it was just something that we did. 

as i got older, i struggled with believing something that i couldn't see. that didn't have concrete answers. something that i really wasn't given a choice in. nobody really got a choice in church at that time. you just did it and didn't ask questions. the problem with that is, i question everything. EVERYTHING. i had a wonderful sunday school teacher who tried so hard to help me understand and guide me, bless him. he tried, but it never stuck. 

i married into an adventist family when i was really young. talk about culture shock. nothing they said made sense and some of what they said was down right offensive, honestly. looking backwards, i can honestly say that those are some of the most pure, kind hearted people i've ever met, and still are to this day. that said, their belief system went against everything i ever considered to be true. i bucked it pretty hard. after we got married, we rarely stepped foot in the church. 

post divorce me tried to follow what my family and friends did in visiting church from time to time, going to christian music concerts, praying. the whole time i felt uneasy about it. i could never put my finger on what the turn off was, but the older i got the more uncomfortable i felt. 

when troy and i met and later got married, we never really discussed religion much. he was raised very similarly to me, except in the baptist church. he had stories of church basketball, bible school, and potlucks that sounded a lot like what i had experienced growing up. when felix was young, i took him to bible school, because i thought that was what you were supposed to do. he seemed to enjoy it. it never stuck with him though. fast forward to now and i can tell you that the idea of organized religion is not something he is interested in. 

the turning point for me was watching the decline of what i remembered our community and country to be like. i watched our country absolutely lose their collective shit over the thought of having a black president. i saw our country crumble over gay rights, reproductive rights, universal health care, and feeding poor people. the folks that held the biggest opinions and voiced said opinions were the people who i saw as huge church folks. people who prayed for everyone, who went to church every week, who attended bible study. people i looked up to and thought were really good people. i'm in no way saying those people are bad people. i know they aren't, nor are they the enemy in this scenario. it legit was just a turning point for me. 

i distinctly remember having a conversation with troy about all of this in the not so distant past. in this conversation, we discussed how we wondered how people could be so vile. like how could they say one thing and do another. and before i knew it, i said the following statement: "i know i am a good person. i don't need an old book, building, and someone else's beliefs to tell me how to behave, believe, and be a good person. i learned that from watching good people, not from doctrine." that one statement changed my life. i remember the anxiety i had always felt about the topic of religion leave my body. i wasn't bound by it anymore. the fact that troy agreed with how i put it really sealed it for me. 

i don't begrudge anyone nor their beliefs. it's really quite the opposite. believe what you want. go to what church you want. you want to never step foot in a church? do you. you're jewish? muslim? buddist? yesss!! i'm here for it. 

what i'm not here for is this: any type of hatred because of differences you'll never educate yourself on, therefore you know nothing about. i'm not here for preaching gospel yet not practicing it. i'm not here for people blindly following things based on untruths or blind hate. i can't sit by and watch people spew gross hate on the community my son is a part of because it doesn't make sense to them. it doesn't have to make sense to you for it to be true for them. it doesn't have to make sense to you for you to show respect to them. 

i have lost people in my life who i have at one time considered to be close friends just due to an inability to respect my son and the community he is a part of. my son does not need prayer. he needs respect. he just wants to exist. he is not a threat to you or your children. 

i am of the unique opinion and perspective that the open arms i have make me a better person, educator, friend. i never turned my nose up at the muslim students who came to school one year when i taught kindergarten. matter of fact, the mother of one of those children is still in contact with me to this day. my only ask is that no one push their beliefs on me. i surely wouldn't do that to them. 

i think of my sweet former first grader often. i ask her mom for advice when i'm struggling with how to handle situations i find myself in. we have formed a pretty tight bond over our shared beliefs. it's been a blessing to find another like minded soul amongst the masses here in our small community. it really is a balm to the soul. 

i often wonder how many people from similar backgrounds come to the same conclusion i have? it's a very tough thing to accept when you're in such a tiny minority. a tiny fish in a big sea. 

i realize my opinions and beliefs are hard for many of my close friends and family members to comprehend. it doesn't change how much i love those people. thankfully for most of them, they don't really care about my beliefs so much as what kind of person i am, which i greatly appreciate. they also support me and my kiddo which is all i've ever wanted. while religion isn't for me, i understand why it is for many. the thought that there is something that could explain things that are so so hard to explain is a comfort to many. it really isn't for me, and if there is one thing i know for certain, it's this: it's ok and i don't have to. thank goodness for that. 

the little jar of treasures

 i think and write a lot about the simplicity of childhood. one of the greatest joys of my life is working with young children. i'm 26 years in and love my work more than i ever have. i love watching kids experience things for the first time, solve problems, learn new things, learn to be independent, have fun, dance, sing, build. there's nothing like the sparkle in a kid's eye when they finally "get it", when they get the joke, say something silly, get to express themselves, when they show you something they are proud of. 

i'm in a very special position at the primary school. i've written about how i feel like i've become the "fun aunt" of the primary school. i get to form relationships with over 600 kids that lasts for at least three years and most of the time longer. i get to see them grow throughout their time at school. i get to witness their biggest accomplishments, their greatest frustrations, and of course, i see every wiggly tooth and missing tooth spot they have. (if you don't know, every missing tooth is cause for celebration!) 

in learning all of these kids, in greeting almost every kid every morning, i've come to acquire a lot of....treasures. so many so that i've started a jar. actually, i have a few jars now. they are filled to the brim with the treasures of childhood. at first i didn't quite know what to do with these little things. but i sat one day and thought about it and realized that when kids give you something, however small, it's very important to them, and should be to you as well. 

it started off with a bead. likely a pony bead from a girl's fancy hairdo. then i got some random skittles (they didn't make the jar, but the kid thinks i ate them), several crystals (from the playground), some leaves, a couple tiny jesus's, stickers with no more sticky, happy meal toys, erasers, squishies, a few feathers (these kids know me), some sparkles, and recently a high heel shoe made from those melty perler beads. every treasure goes in the jar like the trophies they are. the kids ask me about whether i keep them, they want to know where the jar is, where their treasures are. a few times, they've requested their treasures back (here's what: i didn't give said kid baby jesus back. LOL). 

this week, in addition to the perler bead high heel, i got a tiny yellow marker. this kindergartener was so proud to give me this marker when i was on my way out of school. i told her i would take it home and show my husband. she lit up like a christmas tree. said "HE'S GONNA LOVE IT!" i showed him just before i came downstairs to write for the night. he was impressed, obviously, and vowed to write that little girl a thank you. i can't wait to see her face when she gets that. 

this past christmas, i received some particularly amazing gifts from kids. these things were too big for the jar, but will restore your faith in humanity. get your tissues ready friends. 

one day the week before break, one of my first graders, who i absolutely adore and was in my bestie's class last year comes up to me in the morning as she always does, but that day she had a very perplexed look on her face. she was really thinking on something. she tells me that she really wants to buy me something for christmas. i tell her to draw me a new tiny picture for inside my phone case like she's given me before. she thinks on that and tentatively agrees. fast forward a couple days later and she's in front of me again. (keep in mind the rush of 500 plus kids in the hallways in the morning, and of those i probably hug half of them, so it's crazy busy...) anyway, here she comes with her lunchbox and she's so excited. "mis aconville!!! i have your christmas gift!!!" she pulls out an open box of m&m's and gives it to me. she was so proud. i thank her profusely and get wrapped up in more hugs from more kids who are so excited about the coming christmas break. when i finally get back to my room, i look closer at the gift and realize it was the box of m&m's her teacher had given her the day before. she had only eaten maybe half of them. i wanted to cry. i made sure to write her a very nice thank you note telling her how thoughtful and kind she was. i know this kid's story. she needs every single bit of encouragement she can get, and believe me, she deserves it and more. 

on the friday before we left for break, i had one more gift that brought me to tears. a first grader comes to me, so excited by this bag she was carrying. the bag was big too. i'm thinking...what in the world?! she sheepishly hands me the bag and apologizes because all she could find was a birthday bag. in the bag were so many things: a christmas pooh bear (so cute!!), a book fair poster with a puppy dog on it (i know you'll love this poster, mis aconville, wait till you see it!!), a pen with a star on it, a bunch of coloring sheets, a fan, an elsa toy, and....a nab. nab=one cracker from a pack. i think it was a cheese one. don't tell her, but the cracker had to go. anyway, i was overcome by the generosity of this kid. she clearly went around her house and hand picked things she thought i would like. what she didn't know was that that very day i had to make the long trip to the eastern shore for my uncle's funeral. i needed that kindness more than she will ever know. the poster now hangs in my room right beside my taylor swift calendar. she saw that this week and was so excited. i also let her know that pooh bear has a place of honor on my sofa right beside the new squishmallow i got for christmas. bless her. 

the kindness of kids is really something to admire. they give what they can, they do what they can. little treasures, compliments, hugs, shared jokes. it really shows their love language. as adults, our job is to receive that love and provide reinforcement for it. the fact that i save a lot of the little treasures (but not every single drawing) shows them that i love them as much as they love me. that i think of them as much as they think about me. i remember there was a teacher who threw gifts away right in front of kids when i was in school. friends. that is not the move. 

the start of the jars started small. just a few treasures. now these kids are like crows and bring all the shiny things. i hope it goes to show others how relationships are the bread and butter of what we do. i don't do it as a popularity contest. i do it for the kids. a lot of them come to school to be loved. it is my honor to be one of the people who get to do just that: love these babies. 

dinosaurs, lizards, penguins, and nannie

disclaimer: i'm not very good at writing about my kid's early years when they went by a different name, pronouns, and gender. i really hope i don't offend said kid in telling these stories. felix, you're my inspiration in a lot of ways...forgive your ol' ma now. i love your face. 

part of being a kid is finding joy in the smallest things. learning about new things, hyper fixating on those things. as a parent, grandparent, aunt, uncle, bonus mama, one of the great joys is learning your little person's fixation and contributing to it. as a mom, i've bought roughly a zillion books, toys, experiments, art supplies, you name it, with the mission of learning about whatever my kiddo was into. 

it just so happens that those things were: dinosaurs, lizards, and penguins. 

i'm not sure how kiddo got into dinosaurs. maybe it was watching the land before time. maybe it was something on noggin. maybe it was one random purchase of a t-rex that turned into this obsession. it started around age two. kid had a duffle bag full of dinosaurs. they went everywhere. there were two special ones even: a giant t-rex named (what else?) rexy and a giant stegosaurus named, you guessed it: steggy. those dinosaurs were life. we read books about dinosaurs. we watched tv shows both fictional and theoretical about dinosaurs, types, extinction theories, and if birds are direct descendants of dinosaurs (or vice versa, idk). by the time the kid was 3 or 4 he could name every single dinosaur known to man. he could pronounce in his own way all of their names, even if we couldn't. 

every human being associated with this kid knew that dinosaurs were life. every gift had a dinosaur attached. we all looked for dinosaur clothing. we toted those dinosaurs, books, toys back and forth from dad's to my house to nannie's to granny's. my mom, his nannie, created dinosaur books with him, read to him, watched national geographic and nova shows with him. my former mother in law, his granny, did the same. 

he was totally consumed with being a paleontologist. this lasted for years as a child and continues somewhat to this day. kid still reads books about the start of the eras and when and how dinosaurs roamed the earth. it's remarkable. it's not often you have a person who continues a quest for knowledge from such a young age into adulthood like he has. now, instead of wanting to study dinosaurs, he draws them, makes block prints of them, creates comics about them. the evolution of this has been so fun to watch. 

lizards and penguins were laced into this era of animal learning. they were really secondary characters to the dinos, obviously. lizards were the modern day dinos, so that made sense. penguins were the random addition, but i think that was all from watching happy feet, pingu, and surf's up. 

i tell you this to preface this story about mom and her dedication to my kiddo. mom and rachel (the other granny) took care of annie (now felix) from the moment i went back to work up till they started preschool. mom was very much a reading, writing, creating type of nannie. she did a lot of that with us kids when were little too. they made books about dinos, lizards (lizy's) and penguins (pingus) that i keep finding around the house to this day. those are some very precious pieces that i treasure.

all of that said (sorry it took so long), one day mom and annie went to the salvation army in town. kiddo saw the biggest penguin ever sitting on top of the racks. mom knew it was a ridiculous purchase. this thing was every bit as big as the kid was at the time. she figured the price of it would be such that she could get away with not buying it. that said, they ended up checking it out (because grands get what grands want, duh) and come to find out, this glorious penguin was only five whole dollars. what's five whole dollars? of course she bought it and annie promptly and lovingly named it penny. 

penny became as much a part of the family as the bag of dinosaurs, the 50 books about dinosaurs, and all the other random stuff that the kid carried everywhere with them. she slept with him every night, taking up half the bed, she went everywhere he did. penny currently still lives in annie's childhood bedroom, and will be there for the foreseeable future. 

i so wish that annie (felix) had more time with their nannie.  i wish that she would have been around to see what that kid has become. i know mama would be so proud of him. they had a really special bond, that's for sure. in telling these stories in snippets, i hope that it serves as a way for him to remember her and know more about her life as well as all of our other family members. 

the way we support our kids, grandkids, nieces, nephews, and bonus kids becomes part of who they are. imagine what felix would be like if we all told him dinosaurs were silly. i can't imagine a world where that kid and dinosaurs didn't go hand in hand, a world where there was no penny the penguin. 

friends, think about the kids in your life--how will you support the magic for them? how will you create that bond? i hope that the young people in your life get to have that penny the penguin moment--it's totally worth taking up half the bed for. 

anxiety is a ho

i've said it before and i'll say it again: anxiety is a ho. i say she is a ho, but very likely anxiety is a man and he a ho. if that ain't a hook to get you to read further, i don't know what is. 

but i digress (already). i honestly don't remember when anxiety became part of my every day life. i don't think i was an anxious child. i don't remember being a worry wart or an overly emotional kid. i don't remember ever worrying about much or having trouble with it until i was much older and had experienced some trauma. 

trauma is the thread that binds us, friends. the magnitude of said trauma doesn't matter, but we have all had some in one form or another. how we deal with it differs wildly. my complex web of traumatic events isn't really where i want to dive in today. just know that nobody is alone in having some sort of loss, abuse, event, or grief that scars you. 

i know that i've had some kind of anxiety for a good chunk of my adult life. it has been pretty mild in my mind for the most part, until it wasn't. i am the type of person to bottle up most every emotion known to man until i just can't function. then i either shut down or melt down. 

the night that i had the biggest absolute low low meltdown was supposed to be a fun night. i was out with my friends for dinner and a comedy show. it was at a place that i should have felt comfortable and with people i loved dearly. that said, one thing led to another and another and i swear i left my body in the chair and missed half the show. i was a sweaty, trembling mess dying to run as far and as fast as i could. i couldn't even put it into words at the time. i legit thought i was going to have colon blow or something because my stomach hurt so bad. it wasn't that. i got home, relayed the experience to troy, and realized i had just had a big fat panic attack. it made absolutely no sense. the only thing i could point to was the actual location of the show which historically was a place that made me feel like i would burst into flames at any moment (connect the dots here, if you know me, you know).  

to say it scared me to death would be an understatement. i called the doctor's office as early as i could on monday morning and went as soon as they could take me. i wasn't gonna have that feeling ever again if i could help it. the doc was really good and started me on meds straight away. i was headed in the right direction. since then, i've changed some meds, added some, taken some away, and i completed a round of therapy with a delightful counselor. i continue to take meds to this day. 

i saw a video of mel robbins this afternoon talking about how zoloft was the ladder that helped her climb out of the hole that she was in with her mental health. if that isn't the best analogy i don't know what is. the meds and getting them right is just the start. the therapy and the work is what keeps you on the right path. 

here's what i've learned in the process: 

• i don't have to. i don't have to like anything. i don't have to do anything. i make the rules of my life. i'm not bound by societal standards or other people's opinions or feelings. sorry not sorry. 
• what's right for me doesn't have to be right for you, and that's ok. 
• if people don't like my path, let them be a hater. mel robbins is right on that one, friends. let them. and then if they wanna be all whatever, say fuck 'em and keep rolling. 
• everything is temporary. everything. nothing hurts forever unless you let it. don't ever let it. 
• healing is your path and nobody else's. but let it be your path. 

do i remember all of this all of the time? hell no. do i have struggles a lot still? yeah. i am the queen of insomnia and have the worst anxiety riddled and producing dreams known to man. here's what though: you have to know that you are a work in progress and so is everyone else. that adage that you always treat people with kindness because you don't know their story? it's very true. 

now what ames? now what is this friends: we have to de-mystify this. we have to know that all of this is ok. you can be anxious. you can be grieving. you just have to know when to take charge of it and not let it be a ho in your life. don't let it take over and consume your world. i can't imagine being the person paralyzed by it. i refuse to let it do that to me. 

find your support system. learn your way to cope. i've found recently that apparently writing helps. exercise, as much as i hate to admit it as a former fat girl, helps. (side note, i just said FORMER fat girl....look at that progress people!) do what you need to, friends so you can be the best version of you you can possibly be for your family and friends. they deserve that. AND SO DO YOU. 

love you. mean it. 💓

why i never wore elastic pants

 most folks who are following along in this little rambling blog know my former cake and dorito eating ass. the one who had no self control and wore clothes from the rack in the very back corner of the store. to say i've struggled with body image issues all of my life would be an understatement. it's part of why i am the way i am. 

as a kid, i got a lot of clothes from the sears and jc penney catalogs. while my friends got to wear all of the really cute things i always had to look and see if those styles were made in *plus* or gasp... *husky*. ew. i wanted the mary lou retton leotard. the one from the olympics. i had to settle for the track suit that they made in *plus*. fiiiiine sears. as i got older i found clothes that weren't exactly plus, but worked and i never really thought about it a lot. 

turn the page to middle school. middle school is the worst. THE WORST. in middle school, everyone was like super tiny. and i was a solid size 13 and was considered to be ginormous. it was somewhere in there that i really wanted to wear tailored clothes with a waist, buttons, zippers. granted, leggings weren't a thing like they are now. there wasn't a lot of elastic. but i would have had no parts of that if it was the style. i figured i could be bigger but i would be damned if i was gonna look like shit. 

i found jeans sometime in high school and thought i won the lottery. that was saying something if i could find jeans that fit and i could actually wear them. they didn't have those little elastic panels that i had to have when i was a kid. praise for that. i'm still a huge fan of jeans and now the tighter they are the more i love them. 

i don't recall what part of my life i began to really resent elastic. but i thought that elastic was the epitome of giving up. it's kind of backwards to take it out on poor elastic. elastic just wants you to be happy. i never got mad at cake, chocolate, dr. pepper, or fritos. addiction is like that, isn't it? 

i've had a love/hate relationship with my body my whole life. i went through times when i was proud of it, when i thought i was ok looking even. i went through more times of really just hating every part of this poor body. in my mind it was never skinny enough, had too much hair, too many bumps, too much of everything. i hated having brown eyes and brown hair. who was ever known for that? and i had short hair. ew. 

having said all of that, i never really had the fortitude to change it. i really liked food. like loved it. like it never rejected me, so it had to be a good thing, right? and exercise? ew. i'm not a girl who likes to sweat. sweating is gross. did i ever want to grow my hair? yes, but it would look bad in the process so i never did it until late high school. why i had no get up and go to change things is a mystery for the ages. 

fast forward to being a full fledged grown up. as i went through life, my pant size continued to grow, except that one time i did the unconscious divorce diet that made me drop a solid 40 pounds. i did the random diet here and there, weight watchers, slim fast shakes, the god forsaken nutrisystem, i tried going to the gym too--curves, planet fitness. i hated every single one of those things. detested them. so i just went about my life doing what i wanted and wearing my clothes from the back of the store.

life changed pretty dramatically when i chose to really take my life into my own hands and have bariatric surgery a few years ago. the fact was, i couldn't keep up with felix. i needed a seat belt extender on an airplane. it had become too much. so i did the work and had the surgery. that experience deserves its own full on post, but let's skip to the good part, shall we? 

when you lose almost half of yourself a lot changes. you physically change, obviously. the way you see yourself slowly (very slowly) changes. the way you present yourself changes. the things you can do changes. 

you know what else has changed? i'm now in a full on love affair with....elastic. i am currently in the best pair of sweatpants that money can buy. they are soft, stretchy, and they have pockets! old amy would have cringed to wear them in public. now i wear them in public all the time. with pride. and sneakers! i wear athletic wear just as much as i wear regular clothes. 

why the hell not? i've worked hard on getting to where i am. hell, i may even like this size 10 body now. gasp!! clothes are no longer something i just have to wear. clothes are now a favorite thing. i love buying all the clothes. from the regular section of the regular store. i'm not cast to the back anymore. 

that said, do i still pick myself apart? yes. i do. but then you know what my next statement is? AMY. GIRL. YOU WEAR A MEDIUM. i now wear a solid medium in elastic pants. 

what is this life? 

turtles, mudpies, and the farm

the magic of childhood is in the small stuff. when i ask kids what they want to do in the summer it's always seemingly small stuff. it's only small to adults. it's everything to a kid. they want time with their parents, to go bug catching, to skip rocks on the creek, to have their mom paint their nails and piggy toes, to play catch with their dad. of course some kids dream big and want to go to the beach or the water park or disney, but they genuinely are happy having small moments with their families. 

as a kid, i loved going and doing, but it was usually fairly small stuff. trips to the store, the pamplin ball field, playing in the sprinkler with chris, making air conditioner vent bubbles with sheets. lucky for me, my grannie, my maternal grandmother, was the queen of making small things magic. i went to stay with her every summer for several days to a week. 

i didn't spend my time there watching tv unless it was a braves game or papa's soaps (although we did jam some mtv once and that was hilarious). we spent days doing the things i wish kids got to do more of. my great grandmother, ma'b as we called her, lived next door. under her back porch was an area papa kept the lawnmower and random other things. grannie had a flower bed there and a big five gallon bucket that caught all of the rainwater from the downspout. grannie made me a makeshift play kitchen under there with wooden crates, old tin plates, pie pans, and cups. there, i would create all kinds of creations: mud pies, cups of tea, and salads made of leaves, sticks, and random flower petals. i would take orders for these creations and my grannie would be delighted to order from me and enjoy my creations under the shade of the nearby maple tree. 

mudpies were but one part of those magical summers. i spent many hours helping in the garden. i became a pro at weeding, watering (from the rain bucket), harvesting vegetables, picking and arranging flowers, and canning. it was hot, sticky work. as a kid you don't notice that so much. you just go get a drink from the water hose and keep on rolling. no sunscreen, no gatorade. how we didn't get lobstered up and dehydrated i'll never know. the end result was something i have yet to recreate as an adult: lunches of succotash, dinners of fried zucchini, squash and potatoes, big glasses of sweet tea, and usually some kind of roll or biscuit.  lest i forget, there was some kind of sweet too--usually a nice blackberry roll. mama and grannie loved a blackberry roll. nothing will ever be as good as those summer bounty dinners that is for sure.  

if i was lucky in the summer there was usually a surprise that i looked forward to the most--a turtle in a cardboard box. grannie always found turtles for me to inspect. i loved that. i  had no idea then that moving turtles from their paths was bad for them. had i known, i would have been a little more careful. nevertheless, grannie found them, put them in a box in the back of her grey crown victoria and brought them home for me to see. i never wanted to touch them or play with them per se, but i loved to see if they would eat the leaves i would find for them. magically they always "escaped" the box pretty quickly. i have yet to figure out if it was the turtle escaping or it was simply let go, but the joy those turtles brought is something i'll never forget. i stop for turtles every single time i see them in the yard, on the trail, or at the shore. i marvel at their beauty, look at their patterns, take a bunch of pictures, and wish them well. it's one of the glimmers that i find that is just about as special as a bird sighting, and i don't say that lightly. 

one of the things i really loved doing was going with grannie and papa to the farm. the womack farm was where my papa grew up and was a wonder to me. there were a few hundred acres of land, my uncle's house, the old farmhouse, the family cemetery, and the camper. it started off with this little shasta camper tucked into the woods. we would go there as a place to hang out for the day or overnight. we would explore the woods, go see my uncle joe and cousin matt, do yard work or pick up sticks at the farmhouse. of course we always looked for turtles and found many, identified trees, flowers, insects, and birds, which is still a favorite hobby of mine; and generally just enjoy time spent together. 

the farm was a place where all of the womacks would gather for family reunions with mama's uncles and cousins and their kids, where my mom's aunt built a little log cabin from a kit, and where my cousin eventually made a home with his wife and family. there were so many memories made there of us eating fried chicken, mama laughing with her cousins, we young cousins riding the go cart, playing badminton (grannie's favorite), and hearing stories about new york city from cousin virginia, who lived right outside of the city. as the years have passed, our time at the farm has become less frequent and more solemn. these days we gather more at the cemetery to honor the passing of our grands and my mom. troy and i like to visit at least once or twice a year to take in the smell of the pine forest, count the dogwood trees, collect acorns, scout out flowers, and just feel some peace. when  you're surrounded by family, even at such a place, it's hard to not find peace. 

in talking to troy last night, i realized something about the writing the stories i've been remembering. every story, every memory, every experience, is a thread in the tapestry that is you. a piece of the puzzle, a piece of the quilt, if you will. every thread builds upon the next to become this colorful masterpiece that takes decades to complete. and it made me wonder a lot about the fact that this is my story, but what will the story look like that my son tells? i am telling parts of the legacy of my parents and grandparents. but what is my legacy? i think that will be a theme that will continue as i write more and more. nobody's legacy is free from darkness, mistakes, or pain. i have plenty of that, which is peppered into the memories that i have, but it isn't at the forefront, praise the lord. i tend to find the best parts to share for it's what i want to remember and be remembered for. the darkness never wins unless you let it, friends. 

think today of the small moments. what has been the thing that you remember that is so different from what our children would remember? will our kids and grandkids remember screen time or time spent with their parents, grandparents, cousins, aunties, and friends? i hope that felix remembers time spent with their nannie, granny, and me making art, painting, creating, and laughing. i hope that my nieces and nephews remember being silly with me and exploring the chesapeake with their nannie, pops, dad, and me. 

stay tuned for more of these small moments. it is next to impossible to do one post about one person. however, i can write about experiences and memories that include many people all day. my sincere hope is that it is thought provoking and gives you the inspiration to sit with your memories and experiences too. 

love you friends. mean it. 💗

your hair is pretty and other things i've said to strangers

i remember sitting in the japanese restaurant one night and seeing this lady come in. she had long, beautiful dark brown hair. it was the shiniest hair i had ever seen. i don't remember anything else about her. nothing else was remarkable, honestly. but she sat in a chair waiting for her order as we were finishing our dinner. i wasn't trying to be a total weirdo i swear, but i couldn't take my eyes off of her. being the awkward person i am i toyed with telling her how beautiful her hair was. then anxiety took over and then then then....then i was walking out the door, but not before stopping to tell her that i loved her hair and how beautiful it was because it was so shiny. she lit up like a christmas tree.  it was a quick exchange. i caught up to troy, who didn't even realize i was being a creeper with this poor unsuspecting lady and relayed what i told her. i honestly don't think he thought much of it, or maybe he thought in his brain...."why is she like this?" i don't know buddy, i ask myself the same question all the damn time. 

since that random exchange with the lady i'll likely never see again, i have made a point to tell people how gorgeous they are. troy and i were out to dinner again, this time in richmond. there was a table of ladies who looked to be sorority sisters sitting catty-corner to us. she had the most gorgeous long hair and these nails. friends, you wouldn't be able to concentrate either if you saw these longggg nails. this lady just captivated me. hopefully she didn't see me looking at her like a weirdo. nevertheless, i had to stop on my way out and tell her how beautiful she was. sister was probably thinking i was some crazy white lady, but who cares? i'll never see her again. 

regardless of the political correctness of it, i find i'm obsessed with african american women's hair. well, let me amend that, i'm obsessed with african american men's afros too. the fact that ludacris didn't have a fro at the show tishie and i went to was disappointing to say the least, but i digress. nevertheless, i find myself zeroing in on black hair. the bigger and more natural the better. i recently saw a cashier at walmart with the most glorious afro and i had to stop and tell her how beautiful her hair was. secretly, i'm jealous that my hair will never be that gorgina, i swear. 

i tell the kids at school how glorious their hair is. almost every day. i always make a point to notice. hair is a big deal to everyone. you feel confident when you're having a good hair day. so when kids come in with braids, curls, beads, big fuzzy poofs, new hair cuts, little designs in the sides, what i call "magic hair" (extensions), colors, you name it; i notice. i don't know how these mamas do this hair. like why can't they come to my house in the morning and french braid my hair or do piggy tail braids or those bubble braids or the beautiful curls? my girl skills are lacking and i have no clue what to do with my very own long hair. 

hair is but one of the things that i try to notice with people. i was telling troy just this week that specific compliments make people light up. telling someone they are pretty or handsome is fine, but really telling someone they have beautiful eyes, eyelashes, hair, nails, shoes; that means a lot to someone. i can find something that is special about just about anyone, even if they have some unfortunate mess going on. with the kids at school, zeroing in on that one thing they are proud of and making over it builds a relationship with them that enables me to reach them and teach them more effectively on the daily. i don't really set out to find a kid and compliment them. that's pretty disingenuous. nor do i try to set a quota of how many kids to compliment. like who has the time or patience for that? anyway, i try to find things as i see them and then make a point to tell them. i make over sparkly dresses, i ask if those new shoes help them either run fast or dance better, i ask boys where they get those seriously long eyelashes because mine are short and thin, i make over kids who have the tawny eyes, the blue eyes, the green; and the kid who has the fresh fade? you know i gotta tell him he is rocking that. 

i had a grandparent who dropped their two boys every day. both of those kids had had a rough start. that said, they were starting to thrive under the care of these wonderful grands. i always made over those two boys getting them out of the truck in the morning. one day, after the boys had gone on in, they stopped to tell me that whenever they saw me coming they lit up because i made over them so much every morning. ain't that the best kind of glimmer? a little bit of hope for those boys? for me?

think about the last time someone genuinely complimented you. how did that make you feel? i see how it makes others feel. they legit light up like a christmas tree. their whole demeanor changes. they stand a little taller. smile a little more. you just never know what's going on with people. you don't know strangers' business. you could be the one bright spot in their day. i think about that all of the time with kids, but it applies to teens and adults too. i don't approach people all the time and become the compliment brigade. i'm too anxious for that. but i do make a point to tell it when i can. it's the littlest thing. it's free.99 as my bestie likes to say. 

i think as a society, we are so obsessed with going, doing, being here and there, we rarely take the time to find the best parts of our fellow human beings that are on the same path we are. we run through the people's walmart trying hard to not run into someone we have to stop and talk to. i'm guilty of that myself. but the stop on the way out to compliment the cashier changed my day and very likely hers too. it took me all of 10 seconds to do. what if we took those 10 seconds and let the mama with the screaming kid know she was a good mama? what if we told the little girl with the sparkle shoes that they were surely magical? what if we told the old lady waiting in line with us how pretty her nails are? what about the man in his sunday best you see? you know, the one who has the whole ensemble with the hat to match? you know he's looking fresh to death. what if? what's the worst that could happen? they look at you like you're nuts? so what? you'll never see them again, and if you do, you could always make it more awkward and tell them something else that makes them so so pretty. go ahead....do it. see what happens. i'm dying to hear all about it. 

xoxo

the chesapeake

 of all the places i've been and want to go, nothing calls like the chesapeake bay. for folks who live in central virginia, it's not a place that many frequent or know much about. people here go to buggs island, to smith mountain lake, or the carolina beaches. for us, the chesapeake became a place of solace, adventure, and comfort. it's less of a place to boat for sport, to water ski, or party. it is a slow paced place. nobody gets in much of a hurry for anything, and for those that do nothing but work, go, race, it's the perfect place to quiet the mind. 

i remember as a kid knowing my dad went on his yearly fishing trip with who he lovingly referred to as his brothers. in my little mind, he wasn't far away. maybe he was at the james river. maybe he was all the way at the lake. little did i know how far away he really was, in a part of virginia not many people know about let alone have ever seen. he came back with stories of how they fished, played cards, and got the inevitable sun burns. as i grew older, i learned more about this fabled place with its fickle tides, rich marsh, plentiful wildlife, and likely many stories hiding in the far reaches of the sea side of the shore. 

my first memory of seeing the bay was going all the way to the eastern shore when my uncle moved there with his family. to say i was less than impressed would be an understatement. why did i have to ride all the way past virginia beach, see none of that glorious place, drive over a hella long bridge, and land in a place that time forgot? i was instantly not a fan. why drive over 5 hours to a place with no beach? like what? i thought my uncle must have lost his mind. 

at his funeral, the pastor spoke of the eastern shore being my uncle's paradise. how fitting. what older me understands now is the absolute draw to it. beyond the beauty of it that you have to experience to love, the chesapeake bay is a vast ecosystem that sustains thousands of families, is home to so many lovely people, and the birds. i never get tired of the birds. the beauty draws you in, that's for sure. it is unlike any other place in virginia. where else can you see creeks that are so wide that you can't possibly skip a rock across them like you can in appomattox? where else can you see both sunrises and sunsets so rich that it is like another world? where else can you see graceful rays dance beside floating jellyfish and have squawky osprey overhead? i suppose it is all in the eye of the beholder. 

when i was in middle school or early high school, my mom, dad, and grandparents found their version of paradise in mathews county. it was close enough to go to for a weekend and had ready access to the chesapeake. they settled on a small house with one bathroom, no shower, a sandy washboard road that went on forever, and water access. they set upon fixing up that little cabin and we spent many summers there riding bikes, riding on the boat, exploring the community, crabbing, and fishing. i was a less than enthusiastic participant at first, but i warmed up to that place and found that i loved being there as much as they did. 

when they were able, they invested in waterfront property a little closer to town, left the washboard road behind and built a home there. we had more space, more bathrooms (thank goodness), and a pier. when chris and i started having kids, mom made sure they had their own playroom in the tiny part off of the upstairs bedroom. it was under the eaves in what was supposed to be a closet, but it was like their own wonderland complete with toys, mattresses to sleep on, and a sense of magic. they loved it. 

there was nothing like going down there, sitting on the sun porch watching the creek, exploring the many waterways, seeing birds, and dolphins, and enjoying many fish frys and crab boils. we enjoyed holidays there, watched the kids play and prayed they didn't fall over the edge of the pier, did lots of yard saleing, made many trips to the mathews mercantile, watched the daffodils and azaleas bloom, and enjoyed the very slow pace of life. 

while dad loved fishing and we went as often as we could depending on the tides, wind, and weather; my favorite thing to do was ride and explore. i liked to fish some, but the thought of being out all day with no bathroom was enough to keep me on shore. i still get flack for my lack of using the bucket, but i digress. whilst exploring the many back creeks and the rivers around mathews and gwynn's island, we got to see so much: herons creeping up on their next meal, osprey overhead, the little bufflehead ducks in the winter bobbing up and down, the many fishermen tending their nets, traps, and crab pots, and the dolphins. 

oh the dolphins!! one of my most favorite memories from mathews is this: the summer of 2008 (or maybe 09?), we had the pleasure of a calm night to take a ride to the island with mom and dad. little annie was with us too. mom was in the throes of chemo but was feeling good that trip. we set out to do a joyride. and was it a joy!! once we reached the end of our creek, we started seeing them. dolphins. everywhere! they raced alongside us, playing in our wake. they stayed with us for a long time as we rode along. all of us were in awe. we stayed with them as long as we could, until they were bored of us, or found their next meal. all five of us were so happy. it is one of the best times i ever had there with my family. you would most definitely never experience that at the lake, that's for sure. 

after mom's passing in 2009, dad sold the mathews house and started a new adventure, one much closer to my uncle, on the eastern shore of virginia. same bay, different side. this was a tough change, though not totally unexpected. as a kid, we always heard the best fishing was always "across the bay" which was someplace hard to access from mathews with the unrelenting and unpredictable winds and tides. with a bit of apprehension, we started to visit there. it was never the same as  it was before, but life after loss never is. that said, we have since grown to enjoy our time there. we have enjoyed many nights fishing on the pier for rockfish that were drawn in by the bright lights dad had installed on the pier. i  have enjoyed the plethora of birds including but not limited to blue herons, osprey, white egrets, geese, gulls, and the ever majestic and elusive bald eagle. 

we always looked forward to any time that uncle johnny and aunt sharon would come over on their pontoon. it was common there to use boats to travel--it was much quicker than the many winding roads back and forth. they would often come and treat us to sunset cruises on the chesapeake. johnny had an uncanny handle of the creek and its many quirks. he rarely ran aground and could easily navigate it. it was a marvel to witness. they would also lead us out to the nearby beach where many locals would gather at on the weekend. the kids loved exploring it and i loved time lazing around on the boat and catching up with dad, chris, and johnny. 

as things have changed yet again in our family as things historically do, our time spent on and around the chesapeake will change yet again. i'm at peace with that. the past two trips over were sad with the loss of my beloved uncle, a true champion of the bay as my sister in law so lovingly pointed out. with that loss, dad will prepare to move on from virginia and make florida his permanent home.  and as such, the bay will become less of a constant and more of a treat that we will have to make time for. i could see my brother chris and i taking our families there for weekend trips, but the setting will be different. gone will be the days of sunset cruises, fishing trips, and crab boils. it will become part of whatever we make it now and less of what our parents made it for us. we have been living their dreams, really. perhaps we will create our own traditions with our now adult and mostly adult children. the hope of that sounds pretty darn good at the moment honestly.

still, i find the chesapeake part of who i have become as a person. one part of the rich tapestry that is me, just as any of the other thousand pieces of a very intricate puzzle. it has taught and showed many many things. how to appreciate nature for what it is, how to enjoy a slower pace, how to spend time with the people you love doing little to nothing and still find joy in that. honestly, my chesapeake can be your blue ridge mountains. your buggs island or smith mountain lake. point is, you find your place, either handed down from the people who came before you in your family or you find it with your husband or wife and pass that down to your children. it's a legacy thing. i wonder what my legacy place would be for my child or what it would be for my friends and their children. perhaps it's not one particular place, but more of an idea. the thought of it is fascinating, actually. if you had to name it, what would be your chesapeake bay?

i'm off to dream it up. to dream about that nest of eagles, the tide washing up treasures, the jellyfish floating by, the rockfish on the line and all of the other memories that have flooded my mind over the past few weeks. at the end of the day, those thoughts are some of the most precious ones that i have.

i'm a lot.

recently, i got this text from one of my baby cousins (as i call them) that asked me: "have you always been this funny?" i giggled a little, not gonna lie. i told her that i think i've always been like this, but have certainly had more crackhead energy in the past couple years that has contributed to the pure unfiltered shit that comes out of my mouth. 

this got me to thinking...why am i like this? i honestly don't consider myself to be the next bert kreisher. i'm not that quick or that consistent. can i deliver a zinger from time to time? yes. do i find myself hilarious? honestly? yes, i do. that's unfortunate really, but i do. i rewatch my own friggin snap chats that are basically me in a filtered voice watching for dads at the home depot and i think it's funny. how i didn't parlay this into a career is obvious--i am not for everyone. nothing about me has ever been for everyone. that goes without saying. 

remember how i mentioned that even as a child i was "a lot"? as i have reflected upon my life recently (and i have no idea how or why this even started, to be honest), i realized that i've always been a lot. a lot of energy, a lot of ideas, a lot of thinking, needing a lot, wanting a lot, just A LOT. i hope that my lot was never an obnoxious amount of lot, but i'm sure i was. i hope i was never the lot that the teacher wanted to medicate but didn't have the words or medicine for in the 80's, but i'm willing to bet dora turner wanted to throw me out the window with chip and josh's backpacks back at the elementary school. 

you know those puzzles (maybe not the right way to explain it but...) where they ask, "which one is not like the others?" i was one-fourth of that puzzle. i tried to relay that to my aunt who is a bit extra herself. i said, "what part of me is like dad, mama, or chris?" i was the different one. the loud one, the talker, the more more more, the go go go, of the four of us. they were quiet, reserved, introverted. i was anything but. i remember as a kid feeling at home being busy, going, doing. i don't remember them being like that. that said, i saw myself in my grandma mattie g. i saw myself in my aunt who was extra, who has a laugh that's really big, and who never says no to an adventure. maybe it's in those genes. maybe? 

in addition to the lots of my personality, i loved to eat. A LOT. i never met something sweet i didn't like. alternately, i never met anything green i did like. ha! all of that to say, i was obviously the token chunk of the crowd. i cared, but not enough to stop. i was often the object of teasing and jokes about being the fattest one in class. i had friends, or at least i thought i did, so i kind of brushed it off. but like many others before me, i learned to cope with staggering amounts of self deprecating humor and the ability to trash someone quite quickly and to the many laughs of others. when you're the butt of the joke, you gotta do what you gotta do to deflect as quickly and efficiently as you can. you get good at it, or else you become the quiet, crying kid in the corner. i was too much for that shit. if i was gonna cry it was going to be in my own room and ain't nobody gonna see that. (i am still like that, to be fair.)

as i grew up, i was destined to be the sidekick, the third wheel, and sometimes, if i was lucky, i was the main character. someone else could look at it and say otherwise i guess, but in my mind, that was my place. i never really felt worthy of main character energy. i wanted to be the lead singer, the kid with great grades, the star of the show. but i really didn't have the drive to do it. i think that i never felt like that was something i really could do. fat really kills the confidence when all the girls that they boys liked were tiny, blonde, and pretty. 

childhood, teen years, and early adulthood felt like a roller coaster of wondering if i was ever good enough. was i? very probably so. do i feel like it now? sometimes, mostly. depends on the situation, i think. did i cling to every experience, person, or thing that made me feel like i was? you bet. do i do that now? sometimes, but now i know more and know myself better. 

i think that every person is in a constant state of evolution. remember how i really think changes are good and needed to create a quality, interesting human being who is capable of so much? yeah, it's true. with the changes and seasons of life you grow. luckily, so does your personality. ain't it fun? i feel like my personality has always been this big, but for a sundry of reasons hasn't always been expressed. think about what keeps a tree from being it's full, grown self. sometimes it's a lack of water; sometimes it gets crowded out by other faster growing trees; sometimes, it gets burned by the fire surrounding it. people are the same way. sometimes, what that person needs is the perfect environment, nurturing, and space to become it's most beautiful version of itself. 

for me, personally, several things have allowed me to really come out of my little shell and fully show what i'm made of. 

first off, validation. this tree of a person needs that. it's like air and water to a tree. i have so many people in my life who have validated every thing i have always been afraid to feel or say. a good husband and best friends will do it every time. i feel guilty saying this, but kids at school do it too. there's nothing better than a little kid telling you how beautiful or funny you are. they don't usually lie. 

second, i've been given a lot of space to grow in the past twenty years. i am blessed to have a husband who let's me be me. when we first met, i was coming out of a stifling, emotionally abusive marriage. i was never encouraged to do or be anything near to being what i really was. if i was me, it was a threat. nothing could be further from the case now. i went into this relationship with troy with the understanding that this was on my terms and i wasn't changing myself to fit what he wanted me to be. if he didn't like or want this me, then he could walk. luckily, he didn't. 

third, i've taken control of my body. i never thought it was a stumbling block until it was so obvious i couldn't ignore it another second. i had become a sweaty, gross mess who couldn't even walk a block with her kid. how embarrassing of a realization that was. i didn't want to be that person any longer. so, i made the decision to have bariatric surgery. it's extreme, but i was extremely unhealthy, uncomfortable, and unhappy. how could i possibly be alllll this lot when i was like that? haha!! in taking back my body, i have found my old school LOT self. this tree of a person is finally ready to grow and thrive, and dance like a total crackhead at any given moment. 

if i've learned anything in the past year, it's this: yes, i'm a lot. i was offended earlier this year when some random lady i had just met told me that. it's been brewing in my mind ever since. i got comments and jokes about it at work and on facebook. but it has stayed with me. i've sat with this idea since august really. here's what though: my lot is ME. i am a lot. i'm a lot of kindness, caring, fun, love, busy, smart, silly, big ideas, and overthinking. i'm a lot of questionable mental health, bad sleep patterns, and addictive personality. i'm a lot of sparkles, glitter, and awful dance moves. i'm a lot of a lot of good shit. and i'm  more than ok with that. i wish it hadn't taken me so long to realize all of it, but here i am in 2025 being my fully LOT self. you're welcome.