The Goat Saga

No more goats!!!!
Click the link below to discover an explanation for my exclamation.

http://www.mediafire.com/?yogdkammtoz

Don Diego, the sleepy chihuahua

I stepped out of the shower this morning to find this sleepy little chihuahua snoozing on my pillow. My first thought was: Aw, how snugly bugly (in case you have yet to notice, a favorite phrase at our house) and cute. Then I was like: Oh, no... wait a minute--there's a dog on my pillow. Gross! Who put Diego on the bed? ANDREW!!(I wasn't fast enough for a picture. When he saw me and I started fussing, he took the hint and jumped off the bed.)

Diego is a pretty cool pooch. He has a wonderful demeanor and a very high tolerance for the boys' shenanigans. But, I digress.

I hate the dog smell--the funky breath and stinky fur. Pretty much every part of a dog stinks. And nobody wants a stinky bed. Am I right?

So next time D. plants his haunches by my bed, whining like a baby because his tiny chihuahua legs won't propel him 3 feet into my cloud of white cotton sheets, Andrew most certainly will not pick him up, strategically placing him on my typically sweet-smelling headrest.

Diego knows better, but I'm still training the man.

Skippyjon is back... and we're loving him!

Every night before sleepy time, we (my sons: Connor-5, Brett-10 months, husband: Andrew, and myself) all snuggle into Connor's tiny twin bed. Connor insist that both Brett and he "be in the middle," even on nights when it's just the three of us (because Daddy's busy) and there can only really be one little boy in the middle. Naturally, though, I agree because as Connor says, "It is more snugly bugly that way."

When we're finally settled and squished together in the most snugly way, I ask Connor which story he'd like to read. He has quite the library--all of my children's books, his uncle's, even some of his Mimi's childhood favorites, not to mention the many treasures resulting from my fast pass to the Scholastic warehouse sale (FABULOUS!). With so many options, it seems Connor can never choose just one book. Thus, every evening I have the privilege of making the choice myself, pulling my favorites from the shelves, fingering their pages, and smiling at the opportunity to share those favorites with my two little guys.

We have certainly acquired some new favorites (thanks to that fast pass) recently. We love all things Mo Willems and David Shannon. As of late, though, Judy Schachner's silly kitty, Skippyjon Jones, has once again topped our list. He's back in Skippyjon Jones and the Big Bones. Who wouldn't adore a tiny Siamese kitten with humongous ears, who aspires to be Skippito the chihuahua of his day dreams? Clever names, playful alliteration, and a sing-song beat make this story enjoyable for kids and grown-ups, too. You'll be on the edge of your bed as you seek to determine the fate of Skippito Friskito in his closet adventures. No spoilers here, though! You'll have to check it out yourself. I will warn you; it has life-altering potential. We are seriously considering changing Don Diego's (more to come on our family's very own chihuahua soon) name to Skippito Friskito. Yes, it's just that good. You'll see.

Princesses don't poop on the playground

What do you do when a three-year-old relieves herself in an outdoor play area while at least twenty other youngsters run circles around the pole she has smeared with her poop? You cry for help, that's what you do! And then, after the hustle and bustle of gloving-up, pitchforking poop over the fence, and wiping down the unfortunate victims of the incident, you ask yourself why in the world anyone would want to poop on the playground.

When you're unable to envision a satisfying justification, you ask the pooper herself, in all her glory. When she doesn't have an answer either, you ask her friends. It is in an attempt to unearth the truth (not exactly consistent with unearthing poop, but close) that you encounter the extensiveness of peer pressure on the preschool playground.

Luckily, one little girl is willing to step up and make her voice heard. She's not afraid of ostracism from her crowd. For her, the answer is simple as she boldly proclaims, "They tried to get me to do it, but I told them, 'Princesses don't poop on the playground.'"

Community, anyone?

What happened to we’re all in this together? No, I’m not talking about the High School Musical hit. Although, it is rather catchy, don’t you think? Instead, I mean community. Where is our sense of social responsibility? Why are we so bent on holding folks accountable for their actions, but so much less willing to lead, mentor, and redirect those folks making poor choices?

I visit a local news channel’s website almost daily. I check the weather (I’m addicted to the forecasting) and occasionally I’ll check out the local news. I’m not a huge fan of this particular site for a few reasons, but mostly because the writing is, well, it’s terrible. Last night, I read a particularly interesting story and proceeded to read the comments that followed. I was amazed by some of the ideas posted. The remarks were full of assumptions and downright ignorant ideas. Naturally, I became angered. And, I know Virginia Woolf would not have approved, but I proceeded, in my anger, to share my thoughts. Today, when I arrived home, I couldn’t help the urge to see if my post had any responses. (I call this the facebook gene-that yearning to keep checking up on things, that need to know what’s being said) I was disappointed. The first line of the first comment triggered OUTRAGE! I found my comments polluted by responses indicating that I have no sense of “personal responsibility and accountability.” One person said, “I just can’t help you.” This started my wondering… How the heck do you know my level of responsibility (which happens to be tremendous, thank you very much) and when the heck did I ask for your help? Crazy people! If I learned anything from this experience, it is to no longer post on this particular news forum. I guess their readers are about as bright as their writers. A little harsh, I know (and I even waited a couple of hours before writing this time).

While my anger simmered down to annoyance, I continued to reflect on the comments. And here is where I arrived: I am shocked by our lack of cohesiveness as a people, by our lack of desire for working together to effect change. Why do people insist that we are only responsible for ourselves? We obviously can’t depend on every person to be a responsible member of society. Are we supposed to evict those irresponsible, unreliable, sick, and needy (and the list goes on) people from our communities? Making them outcasts only worsens conditions.

I’m no longer annoyed, just a bit sad.

Where am I going?

Hi there. If you're reading this, you've already hopped on the train. Yes, you are joining me on a journey--an exploration of my day-to-day adventures as a student, a teacher, a mother, a wife, and not least of all, an individual. I'll share personal anecdotes in an effort to discover where all of my "who am Is?" collide with the development of my professional goals. I hope to, in the future, review my posts and piece together how my current thoughts correlate with my past experiences. One of my goals is to pin point moments in time that work to project me onto my future routes. I hope to interest you in my literary studies by sharing a piece now and again. My plan is to create a multimodal text via this blog; I'll share podcasts, film clips, and link you to my written work. Stay tuned...great things are to come!