Now I am your typical, where is my brain, mom. It doesn't get any better, this cyclical feeling--feeling okay and then not. Mixed in between it all is mushy, gooey, goodness. It's snuggles and baby breath but also stinky three year old breath. It's days where we think we're not going to make it, and then we get up and do it all over again.
I used to write. I love to write. It keeps me centered. At this point in my life, there are endless rants I could go on. There are stories that I could tell, and then when I get to the moment when I could actually sit down and ruminate over every contemplation, I decide that I would rather spend the moment resting and really not think about anything.
It's in those moments that I actually start to grieve over all of the lost memories, all of the moments that I never wrote about. This leads into an overwhelming feeling; I shouldn't write anything because I haven't written about all of these other things I should have written about. It makes sense to me. Then there's this little voice in my head that says that one day I will look back and wonder what happened to all of these moments. Where did they go? Why didn't I write about them? Maybe I should start now?
We started calling Violet "Lettie Delle" soon after she was born. Lettie Delle or Violet doesn't really fit her at this moment. Steven and I decided upon this yesterday; she looks more like a Stevie, little Steve. She's eleven months, a babbling, yowling, adventurous, toddling, mess that gives open-mouthed kisses, sometimes with sticking out her tongue. We call her puppy too because she eats everything especially the inedible items around the house. She makes this distinguished "Baa" sound which sort of sounds like the sound a lamb or a goat would make. We're still trying to decipher its meaning.
I talked to my brother today. He's doing well it seems and was very excited to correspond with me. They're trying to have a baby. Babies are always good, I think. They are made with love and bring out love in others. There is never anything wrong with having a baby although there's a limit on how many babies one should have and who should be having said babies. Perhaps we will see them this summer. He'll have the rest of his kids with him in July. The Minceys may find themselves venturing off to Pearl River, LA.
In class today, I used this analogy:
You can know how to drive, but if you don't follow the traffic signals, you're going to get into an accident. I used this analogy to describe how we can compute, or follow the math algorithmically, but without reading the directions completely, understanding them, (conceptualizing), there's no point. You're bound to make a mistake.
One of my students is beyond his years. He excels at reading and math. I try to challenge him as I can. His future is bright. His dad is in the Air Force, and his mom is a brilliant woman. She's a stay-at-home mom, but she's educated. She has a degree in biology. Before living in Panama City, they lived in Alaska. What a great place for a kid to experience. This kid knows what it is like to be bored with nature which is really not being bored but being captivated in the pure bliss of earth's wonder. He wrote his prepositional poem about Alaska, describing the permafrost and other Alaska-specific concepts. The reason why I mention this student is because when I used this aforementioned analogy, he looked at me with these understanding eyes. He does this often. They sort of twinkle with, "I know exactly what you mean Mrs. Mincey. What an insightful anecdote."
Many of my anecdotes or analogies go above my students' heads, but I am determined to make them anyway in the event that they will have those twinkling eye moments. It is for the same reason that I choose to use words way out of my three-year olds vocabulary. My dad once said to me that I was using words that she didn't understand. Then I reflect on movies like "The Lion King" where Scar is ranting, "I know it's sound sordid, but you'll be rewarded." Does an elementary student know what sordid means? Most likely no, but putting into a Disney movie is nothing to frown upon.
I used to write. I love to write. It keeps me centered. At this point in my life, there are endless rants I could go on. There are stories that I could tell, and then when I get to the moment when I could actually sit down and ruminate over every contemplation, I decide that I would rather spend the moment resting and really not think about anything.
It's in those moments that I actually start to grieve over all of the lost memories, all of the moments that I never wrote about. This leads into an overwhelming feeling; I shouldn't write anything because I haven't written about all of these other things I should have written about. It makes sense to me. Then there's this little voice in my head that says that one day I will look back and wonder what happened to all of these moments. Where did they go? Why didn't I write about them? Maybe I should start now?
We started calling Violet "Lettie Delle" soon after she was born. Lettie Delle or Violet doesn't really fit her at this moment. Steven and I decided upon this yesterday; she looks more like a Stevie, little Steve. She's eleven months, a babbling, yowling, adventurous, toddling, mess that gives open-mouthed kisses, sometimes with sticking out her tongue. We call her puppy too because she eats everything especially the inedible items around the house. She makes this distinguished "Baa" sound which sort of sounds like the sound a lamb or a goat would make. We're still trying to decipher its meaning.
I talked to my brother today. He's doing well it seems and was very excited to correspond with me. They're trying to have a baby. Babies are always good, I think. They are made with love and bring out love in others. There is never anything wrong with having a baby although there's a limit on how many babies one should have and who should be having said babies. Perhaps we will see them this summer. He'll have the rest of his kids with him in July. The Minceys may find themselves venturing off to Pearl River, LA.
In class today, I used this analogy:
You can know how to drive, but if you don't follow the traffic signals, you're going to get into an accident. I used this analogy to describe how we can compute, or follow the math algorithmically, but without reading the directions completely, understanding them, (conceptualizing), there's no point. You're bound to make a mistake.
One of my students is beyond his years. He excels at reading and math. I try to challenge him as I can. His future is bright. His dad is in the Air Force, and his mom is a brilliant woman. She's a stay-at-home mom, but she's educated. She has a degree in biology. Before living in Panama City, they lived in Alaska. What a great place for a kid to experience. This kid knows what it is like to be bored with nature which is really not being bored but being captivated in the pure bliss of earth's wonder. He wrote his prepositional poem about Alaska, describing the permafrost and other Alaska-specific concepts. The reason why I mention this student is because when I used this aforementioned analogy, he looked at me with these understanding eyes. He does this often. They sort of twinkle with, "I know exactly what you mean Mrs. Mincey. What an insightful anecdote."
Many of my anecdotes or analogies go above my students' heads, but I am determined to make them anyway in the event that they will have those twinkling eye moments. It is for the same reason that I choose to use words way out of my three-year olds vocabulary. My dad once said to me that I was using words that she didn't understand. Then I reflect on movies like "The Lion King" where Scar is ranting, "I know it's sound sordid, but you'll be rewarded." Does an elementary student know what sordid means? Most likely no, but putting into a Disney movie is nothing to frown upon.