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Showing posts from December, 2013

Our Lovely Mess

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This is so weird.

I'm sitting on the couch.  It's dusk.  The room is lit only by the multi-colored lights of our tacky Christmas tree full of memories.  There are toys allllll over the floor.  There's laundry all over the couch.

My house is a place where messes happen.  Everywhere.  And I love it.

Don't get me wrong.  I don't like be messy, and we really do try to keep a clean house.  However, one of the things I love about my family is that we have really gotten to a place where we are learning to prioritize.  A clean house is important.  Sometimes.

See, here's the thing.  My house is a place where messes happen.  It's also a place where joy happens.  All over.  Everywhere.  Mistakes happen.  Then more love.  Dance parties and family dinners and tickle fests happen.   Hugs happen.  Friendship happens.  More love.  Belly laughs happen.  Big things and little things and silly things and wonderful things happen.

My house is a place where love happens.  Always…

Meat Slingers and Can Stackers and Teenagers

When I tell people that I teach middle school, they judge me.  Sometimes, they come right out and tell me.  "What?  Really?  Umm, why?"  Other times, it's just a sympathetic look given with you-must-be-crazy eyes.  Who in their right mind would spend their days with, ohhhhh, I can't even say it.

Teenagers.

Ugh.  Teenagers are what's wrong with the world, right?  They ruin my night out at the movies, they cut me off driving, and they're constantly talking loudly on their cell phones wherever I go.  They only care about video games and being mean to each other and doing inappropriate things, right?

She must just not be very bright or must be lacking in some kind of real job skills.  Maybe she's just plain crazy.  Middle school teacher?  Oh, honey.

I'm going to let you in on a little secret.  I questioned whether or not I should, but you're not going to believe me anyway, so I figure it's safe.  Teenagers are AWESOME.  Truly, earth shatteringly (y…

Lucky Shopping Cart

I have this little game I like to play with myself when the line at the grocery store gets long or slow.  I like to look at the contents of the carts around me to see what I can figure out about the other shoppers.  I mentally high-fived myself when the boy in line in front of me called the man with him Grandpa.  I had already determined this relationship, not by the age of the man (he looked pretty young), but by all of the crazy snacks they were unloading onto the conveyor belt.  They were the the kinds of things parents say no to, but you don't even have to ask grandparents for: candy, marshmallows, green drink, chips, and more.  I had also determined that the woman in front of them was both a grandma and a widow.  She had a few premade dinners, among other things, and did not seem to have anyone at home to eat with her.  We had bonded in the cereal aisle when she showed me a little dog that played Christmas songs and did flips.  She was thrilled.  As this treasure was loaded i…