Short Hair

A lovely by-product of my weight loss is the sad fact that my hair is thinning.  The hair loss is quite visible to me, and my hairdresser noticed it right off.  We decided to go very short.  Here it is:

SAHM

It's Day 3 of Deb-is-a-stay-at-home-Mom-time, otherwise known as summer vacation.  When I get so busy during the school year and have days when I only see my kids right after they wake up and right before they go to sleep, I tell myself: "You and Sven work hard, but for 11 weeks each year your kids get two full-time stay at home parents."  It's true.  It makes me feel better.

That being said, I currently get two more weeks of vacation than Sven, so there are two weeks in which I am, functionally, a Stay-At-Home-Mom, or SAHM.  Being a SAHM is a tough job, but it is one from which I receive many blessings.  First, I receive the blessing of appreciating the fact that I work outside the home 39 weeks a year.

I kid!  I kid because I love.  I love being with my kids so much.  That being said, this year is very different from previous years because of the change in my health.  In previous years my goal was to do as little as possible so I would have as much time as possible doing nothing.  I avoided commitments to anything that might cut into my nothing time.

This past Monday I began my summer vacation with a day of housework.  I accomplished more on Monday than I have ever accomplished on the first day of summer.  Heck, I got more done on Monday than I got done in total last summer.  I cleaned out the last of my unwearable clothes and reorganized my side of the closet.   I cleaned my room, my bathroom, the kids' rooms, and the living room.  I cleaned the kitchen and emptied the refrigerator and freezer of bad/old food.  I washed every dish in the house and did everyone's laundry.  I washed all of the towels.  I went to the grocery store.  I cooked my family breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Then I had to face Tuesday.  So much was done... what was left?  I went to the gym, then got home and took a long nap.  I still cooked breakfast, lunch, and dinner for everyone.  I cleaned up the dishes as I went.  I did a few more loads of laundry (blankets and quilts).  I found myself looking for things to do as I realized there was *nothing* to do.

Now I'm blatantly fishing for things to do.  Today I went to the gym again (and will go tomorrow).  Thankfully, on the way out the door, Princess asked, "Mommy, can we bake cookies today?"

"Yes!" I cried with enthusiasm.  "Let's make cookies this afternoon!"  After a quick post-gym trip to Wal-Mart for supplies, we were set.  I cooked lunch (having cooked breakfast previously) and assembled the ingredients and supplies for two very different kinds of cookies.  Princess helped.  By 2:00 I had cooling on my countertop healthy chocolate chip cookies and a strange but very tasty concoction of my own design: fairly fat-free pumpkin cookies with white chocolate chips and Craisins.  I had a mess to clean up.

Mess was cleaned by 3:00.  Sven gets home at 4:00 and I'm telling him enthusiastically about my plans for dinner.  I mention steak.

"Steak?" he asks with a dynamic sparkle in his eye.  "Do we have lighter fluid?"  Sven grilled the steaks, which left me to side-dish duty, meaning I had to open cans and turn on the stove.  (And place a bag in the microwave, let us not forget.)  Dinner was over at 8:30.  Dishes were in the dishwasher and everything was cleaned up by 9:00.  I folded the laundry and went upstairs.

Sven will be done with work for the summer by early next week.  I'm not sure if I want him to carry his part of the load or get out of my way.  I've got stuff to do.

Just wait...

At 1 month: "Just wait until you've been together a few months, when it isn't new anymore but you don't have a lot invested in a relationship.  That's when things get tough."

At 6 months: "Just wait until you've been together a year.  That's when the real boredom sets in and you start wondering if he's really where he says he'll be."

At 1 year: "Just wait until you move in together.  Once you can't get away from each other and you see how disgusting another human being can be, it all falls apart."

At cohabitation: "Just wait until you get engaged.  Making it official changes everything."

At engagement: "Now you're in for it.  Planning a wedding ruins people.  Just wait."

After the wedding: "Once you've been married a while, the spark is gone.  Just wait until you realize he's the only person you're ever going to kiss for the rest of your life."

On your second anniversary: "Just wait until you have kids.  It's all over then."

After the birth of your first child: "Sure, it's easy having one, but just wait until you hit the terrible twos."

When you're pregnant with your second: "Now you've done it.  Just wait until you're elbow-deep in diapers and your toddler is dismantling your DVD player and your husband waltzes in and asks what's for supper.  Then you know it's over."

On your tenth anniversary: "Just wait."

Still waiting, after twelve years.  So far, so good.

Sven and Deb, married June 5, 1999

Just waiting to see what will come next.

DRAMA!!

Now that I've had almost two weeks to reflect on it, I would like to share the story of how I learned I would be changing jobs next year.

POLITICAL BACKGROUND (YOU CAN SKIP IF YOU LIVE IN TEXAS OR JUST DON'T CARE) This has been a tense year for schools in Texas.  Our impeccably coiffed governor, Rick Perry, who supplements his income by working as a Squint Model, has brought tons of new businesses to Texas.  You might have heard pundits such as Rush Limbaugh (who subscribes to Squinter's Monthly) and various bland Fox News analysts talking about how Texas Has Done Everything Right and Rick Perry Should Be Our Next President Because He Understands HOW TO GET THE JOB DONE.

Teachers from Texas hear this and shake their head bitterly as they clean the kindergarten urine from their carpets with a solution of baking soda and tears.  The reason for their bitterness is thus: the new businesses were lured to Texas with the promise that they would not have to pay high taxes like they do in other states.  In addition to promising new businesses huge tax breaks, Governor Perry has also held fast to his promise to hold property taxes down.  Texas, of course, has no state income tax, so our state runs on property taxes, sales taxes, tolls, and the lottery.

Texas also has the distinction of having no full-time legislature.  Our state representatives meet for six months every two years.  If something doesn't get fixed now, we have to wait two years to fix it.  That's what happened two years ago with funding for public education: they didn't fix it.  Now they're trying, and it looks like thousands, if not tens of thousands of teachers will lose their jobs and in some cases entire schools are closing.  It's a tough time to be a fine arts educator; it's no secret that those are the jobs most often on the chopping block.

(HERE'S WHERE MY DRAMA STARTS) So it was Tuesday, May 17, and I was in a panic.  My fourth graders were set to perform their musical that night and my second-biggest speaking part quit.  "I can't handle the pressure," he said.  I performed a masterful (in my opinion) dressing-down that stayed even and level yet conveyed the mess he had left me in, then got to work.

My principal came into my room during kindergarten.  Of course I was showing a movie.  That's the law.  When your principal just drops by to see you, you will be showing a video and typing frantically on your computer as the kids chant "Chicka Chicka Boom Boom" with such authority that anyone could tell they have seen that particular video many, many times.  I hop to my feet and start babbling about the program and trying to fix some last-minute details, and my principal (whom I adore) waves it away and says these words:

"They want you in the administration building.  I have someone to cover your class.  You need to go now."

Fortunately, I had just visited the ladies' room.  I'm sure that I resembled a slack-jawed idiot for several seconds, but I gathered myself together and went across the highway to the administration building, where the formidable head of personnel was expecting me.

"She's on the phone," said the receptionist.  "Have a seat and I'll walk you back as soon as I can."  The receptionist, as it turned out, was a former music teacher in the district whom I had known slightly (she was one of my younger brother's teachers).  We began to chat about people we knew in common and she found out I was teaching elementary school.

"Oh, I love elementary," she sighed.  "Give me those sweet little ones over those junior high kids any day."

"I love junior high," I defended quickly.  "Elementary is okay, but I miss my big kids.  I miss the concert cycle, and the thrill of performing with them...  I would love to go back to junior high or high school when my kids are older."

I was taken to personnel and told that I was being reassigned from elementary school music to junior high choir.  I had a choice, they told me.  I could say no.  However, they wanted an answer right then.  At that moment.  The more I thought and listened, the more I realized that they really didn't intend for me to say no.  I said yes.

I was terrified.  Was it the right choice?  The safe thing to do would be stay with my sweet little ones and remain there until my kids are much older, but I've never been one for safety.  I shook hands with the director of personnel and left.

As soon as I walked out of her office, I felt complete and utter peace descend on me.  I was no longer worried about the program I had a few hours later.  I looked at myself in the mirror of my car and saw a huge smile.  I got back and told my principal that I had accepted the reassignment, and she gave me a big hug and told me she knew it was for the best.  (I love her.)  I walked back into my second group of kindergarteners and the happiness and peace continued.

I know this is the right thing for me.  Everything has fallen into place as though it was supposed to be.  I have kept that peaceful feeling in the two weeks since learning of my new position.  I'm not worried.  I'm sad to leave my little Wildcats, and I'm excited to meet my new big kids, but above all is the strong sense that I am doing what I should be doing.

Feels great.

Good thing we only take pictures every 3 years or so...

I promise this will be the last post about our awesome family pictures shot by my friend Jennifer in the new city park in Mont Belvieu, Texas.  (What what to Bill C., my city-planner friend.  That's right, I have a friend who is a city planner.  Top that.)

I unleashed my inner Mac geek by putting the pictures in iMovie, then combined with my all-time favorite love song remix.  Enjoy.

Family Photos In the Park

We just did a photo shoot with a friend of mine.  Here are some of my faves:

Movin' On Down

Last summer: Size 28:

Christmas: Size 20:

March: Size 16:

Today: Size 8

(In the size 16 jeans from the March picture)

5/15/1950-12/29/2006

I was watching "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" on television last night, and I cried like a baby.  Not because it's such a good movie (it is) or it's so moving (it is), but because that was a movie I watched with my dad.  It somehow seems wrong that, even though he's been gone for nearly five years, that movie, and the other things we enjoyed together, continue to exist without him.

Princess and Grandpa, Halloween 2006

My dad and I didn't always get along.  My teenage years were TERRIBLE.  I was terrible.  My father (much like the dad in "My Big Fat Greek Wedding") reacted to fear and anxiety with anger and bluster, which just made me more hostile and too-cool-for-school.  I think we were all relieved when I moved out.

Once I moved out, my relationship with my dad got a lot easier.  We didn't see eye to eye on politics, so we didn't talk about that.  We loved music.  We loved movies.  He loved sports, so I pretended to.  Movies about sports?  Forget about it.  I sat through "The Natural" with my dad.  That's love.

I remember one night when Sven was gone and I was sad.  My mom and dad showed up at my house with a fried chicken dinner and just sat and ate with me.  It's one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.  Even though I was 31 (almost 32) when I lost my dad, I wasn't ready.  There were years of chicken dinners, and babies, and family trips, and griping about the poor quality of reality television still left with him.  Sven lost his dad at 17.  I can't imagine how hard that was.  Losing my dad in my 30's was devastating.  It still is.

My dad was 56 when he died.  That's part of the reason I've made some of the choices I have this year.  Taking charge of my health and my life has become really important to me, because I don't want to go that soon.  My parents had their kids young; they were 24 when I was born.  I was nearly 31 when Princess was born and nearly 33 when Dexy came along.  If I were to die at 56, Princess and Dexy would be in their early 20's.  Adults, yes.  But not ready to lose their mom.

Every time I hear a new band on the radio I miss my dad.  When I see a movie I know he would have loved, I miss my dad.  Heck, when I see Charlie Sheen on the news, I miss my dad.  (He loved "Major League."  I couldn't sit through that one.)  So on his birthday I don't think it's inappropriate to be serious for a day and think about him.

I miss my dad.