cleary

Mrs.Cleary is in bad mood this afternoon.

I have earned one more check on list 35.
I spent a good portion of my day in the beautiful green shoes. The goal was to wear them for a day, and I made it to about noon. I am counting this as a success however for the following reasons: #1 I wore them last night to a school function for a trial run, thus extending the hours the shoes where on. #2 my removal of the shoes was entirely motivated by the blisters forming on the balls of my feet, not emotional distress. #3 I was somewhat saddened to see them leave my feet.
Although most people find my preoccupation with trivial life improvements funny, I have to say that I get great insight from these little adventures. Today for example, I realized how much I enjoyed the small pleasure of wearing beautiful shoes. My daily attire consists more of flip flops and White t-shirts rather than colored tailored shirts and heels, so I was unable to slip through the day unnoticed. In fact, I might have drawn less attention to myself if I had shown up stark naked. Of course, I don't own a lot of clothing or accessories that can be described as chic. I feel pretty good if I am even in the running for fashionable. My basic requirement is often that it fit, followed closely by color (or lack thereof), and finally basic shape and color. This is a horrifying admission.
I felt good today, and many people suggested that I wear my beautiful shoes more often, and asked why I had never worn them before. My immediate answer to this was " I am just not the type of person who can get away with that kind of thing." But privately and now of course semi publicly, I have to reflect on that. Why don't I? What kind of person IS the kind of person who can get away with that type of thing? and really WHAT is that type of thing?
Do I somehow look down on women who prepare themselves for the day more mindful of fashion trends and artistic touches. No. easily I can say that I do not. In fact I often am envious of the well put together woman, the lady who has all her accessories in a row.
Perhaps I feel that feminine touches such as heels somehow make me look weak....Nope not that either. In fact there is few things less intimidating that a purposeful clickity clack of heels on linoleum. So I am forced to face the possibility that my preference of plain, nondescript clothing, with "nothing special" accessories may reflect less on what I think of others and more on what I think of myself. ACK! I am not prepared for this type of self analysis. All I wanted was to wear my beautiful shoes, and now I am questioning the foundation of myself as a person!
Clearly more reflection is required. For now, however, I will find peace in this: I have discovered hidden beneath white t-shirts and flip flops....a diva. As she and I get to know each other, I imagine she will peek out more and more. And if you look closely I think you may find, she is wearing beautiful green shoes.

I have gone on a new naming binge. I can't seem to help myself, every now and again i start giving everyone and often everything new names. its one of my more peculiar quirks. I saw a little man in the shoe store. he was the shoe fixer guy, which makes him an actual cobbler. I named him Jaime (said with a strong accent.) In college I named all sorts of people. There was crazy Chinese biker man, and flannel shirt girl; the whistler, and of course the Messiah. I looked some of these people up on facebook and oddly enough not a one came up, but I can assure you that a good number of the people who went to college with me know exactly who i am talking about.

My naming thing lead me to think about the names we choose for our kids and the names that were chosen for us. My daughter, who is adopted and looks very exotic was tricky to name. The names I had chosen for a girl when I was pregnant were very....white. I needed a spicy name for a little brown fireball. My mom always felt that names and words that started with K were too spiky. Assuming that each name has an emotion or a visual attached to it, why in the world do people name their kids things like Elmer (fat kinda dumb kid) or Maud (plain slightly deranged girl, definitely a brunette) or even Bambi, Bootsi, or KiKi (why not just name her booby and get it over with)

I have never felt comfortable in my own name. It kinda fits but its been shrunk in the dryer and rubs and pulls in all the wrong places, also the neckline is too tight. I think a better fit would be something like Kate, or Kami....but those would be too spiky for my mom. ooohh maybe Monica...that is not spiky, very roundish.

As a teacher some of the best names are gone. I can never name a kid Dalton for example...this is not the crisis you imagine, but the point stands, names have baggage. They come with history, visuals and emotions ...and apparently spikes.

I have been battling that familiar sense of panic that sprouts up this time each year. The anticipation of a new school year and all the possibilities is tangible, yet it mixes oddly with the misery of leaving my vacation behind. I am in the worst possible state of Limbo. Ready to get started already but not quite ready to leave summer behind.

Personally I like everything about fall. I like the change in the weather, the cooler evenings and crisp days. I like that my routine becomes more predictable and that the kids have schedules. I like that all the shows come out with new episodes and I like that everywhere you turn there are school supplies and shoes on sale. I have an unhealthy love of office supplies. Binder clips and paper clips give me chills, and a view binder can send me into a frenzy. Don't even get me started on the fabulous things they are doing with sharpies and expo markers! Second only to new office supplies is new shoes. What a pity that men feel compelled to have a basic black and a basic brown and call it good. This is nonsense. What about your basic patent leather, and your basic animal print. You need basic black in a flat, flip flop and heel at least. The fact that back to school makes two of my favorite things not only permissible but relatively expected and required makes fall my favorite time of year.

It won't be long before I fill this blog with everything that makes me crazy about the kids at school. Soon I will lament the loss of any free time i used to have and will long for the warmer days of summer. I am a fickle creature. There is no making me happy.

But then that's not true....Fall makes me happy. Christmas carols and twinkle lights make me happy. daddy's and little kids, Oreos, and Raisin Nut Bran makes me happy. My kids, my husband and my dog makes me happy and I really like 800 count sheets. As previously discussed I like Target and red cups from Starbucks. I like watching the same movie over and over again and laughing with my brothers. I guess I'm not really fickle at all. I'm predictable and routine, perhaps even boring. Afterall who finds such joy in push pins?

I took myself on an adventure today to the boyscout store. Ive never really thought of myself as the boyscout leader type, but i guess I am. I am not sure of the definition of this type but I assume that driving a minivan and running between soccer practice and dance class are prerequisites. Also who knew there was a whole store dedicated to the badges and buttons earned by little boys?

I am fairly excellent at organizing and multi tasking but I have to tell you the sheer number of pins, badges and patches that my mind began to swim! Yikes I gathered everything from hiking segments to geology pins; artists loops and astronomy patches. I was beginning to think i would soon be looking for an award to honor a properly executed toilet flush. But i was stopped in my snide cynical tracks when I realized all the stuff I was gathering honored a real achievement. Scholar pins and mathematics loops, sports of all kinds, as well as hobby pins, all of these things required effort and time.

I think everyone's life would be better if we got a little pin or badge for every achievement, Also I want a snappy little white shirt to display them on. Imagine the pretense you cut through when you just wear your achievements right there on your shirt. I want a pin for all my school achievements and I want a pin for giving birth. I want a pin for making it to the mini-van level of motherhood, and i want a pin for each time Brad had to be away on a business trip and i pulled single parent duty. I want a badge that recognizes my patience with the 75Th showing of High school musical, and a non-panic badge for the time Sophie had to be cut out of a recliner by the paramedics, and of course a special patch for successfully watching Jordan pull away on the camp bus. I want a patch noting my success in finding well fitting jeans and mastering the art of ordering coffee in the Northwest.

I have officially reminded myself of my mother and I have made hard choices because they were the right ones. Imagine the badge I will get when i wear my green shoes....Fabulous....

Oh my gosh this is totally a business opportunity. Women love charm bracelets and collecting things. I could make the badges and pins sparkly and full of bling. I'm totally getting my millionaire entrepreneur badge!

Day one down, and my cell battery is showing signs of fatigue. I spent the day checking to make sure I hadn't missed Jordan's call. I am going with the theory that he is having too much fun to call or worry about home, which is as it should be.

Trying to turn my mind to other things I made my birthday list today. Its in no way finished, isn't that what you call a living document? Still changing and growing. Those who know me may be taking a moment here to take a mental inventory of the time and will indeed be right when discovering that my birthday is a short 11 months away. why then work on the list?

The list I refer to is the list I make for each year of things I challenge myself to accomplish. Its hard to measure growth. At a certain point when you sift back through your memories they blur together. Does that mean that the days between were wasted? I think not, but you need a way to gauge growth and change throughout the years, so that one year is separate from the next. I do this by creating a list of challenges. Some are easier than others and some send me into a cold sweat, but they serve to clarify things and give my ambitions a more clear timeline. I can tell you for example that my 34Th year was the year I saw drag queens and my first strippers. In year 33 I bought and wore my first grown up leather jacket. So the question begs what will year 35 bring. What exciting and new developments will add to me as a person?
I have a few things on my list already.

• I must read a book from at least 5 genres 1 of which must be non-fiction. (any ideas?)
• I must wear my beautiful green shoes. They are high heel and backless. Very sexy and not vampish...in a nutshell they don't scream "teacher and mother of two!" (that would be a denim jumper and a pair of danskos.
• I must incorporate a dress into my working casual clothing choices (and actually wear it more than once)
• I must do something out of the box in the realm of my career. I have often said that I wasn't sure the classroom was where I would always be. If that's the case i need to see where else I might fit.
• I must make or break 2 habits that improve my health
• I must make a strong valid attempt to become published in some way. )look out readers digest...all in a days work!)

I have always hesitated to tell people about the list. It seems to me that making the statement that you are under construction, you are a work in progress, and are actively working to improve yourself, invites suggestions.

"you are working on being better...oh well its about time, don't forget to work on you ginormous ass while your at it"

Not being ready for that type of suggestion I have kept the list relatively quiet for years, but its time for the rest of you poor slobs to realize that I too am working on improvements. You are not alone in your quest for betterment and I shall lead the way! (very Joan of arc-ish....only not so many voices in my head or burning at the stake)

And so I invite you to join me on my quest to be a better person. I encourage you to keep your suggestions to a minimum, and I challenge you to challenge yourself.

having settled back into family life, I spent the afternoon escorting my son to sleep away camp. It is an odd thing to drop off your kid for a week away. I remember going to camp and loving it. It does not fit within any of my memories that my mom felt a sad longing and pull when she saw me off for a week, although I imagine she must have. I am anxious for Jordan. What if he doesn't find a friend, what if he gets hurt....worse what if he wets his pants.

I will come clean and finally tell the world the story that has haunted me for the past 20 years. I wet my pants at camp. That's right kids, afraid to wake my counselor and even more afraid of the dark woods outside my cabin I attempted to "hold it" This seemed the best answer to my predicament, until it became clear that I would not be waiting until first light. Gathering all my courage I unzipped my sleeping bag and steeled myself to wake up my counselor. In hindsight I think it was the bunk ladder that was my downfall. It is virtually impossible to clench the Keagal's while performing the one woman show required to gracefully lower ones self from the top bunk to the floor. I did manage to make it to the floor and continued the one woman show by dancing a fun pee pee dance while scooting across the cabin floor. I got all the way to my counselors bedside and shook her awake. She opened her eyes just in time to watch me lose the battle of the bladder all over the floor.

This admission now public, I have to go on to admit that things haven't really improved in that department. A cough, sneeze vomit or strong breeze puts me right back in that cabin. For years I have played the part of a grownup woman when all the while I am a pee pee pants. I gave up pretending about 2 years ago and "came out" to several of my friends. Karma being what it is my friends laughed and delight in pushing the limits of poise absorbency.

All of this makes me wonder about the real difference between the me right now and the me 20 years ago peeing on the floor. Clearly it is not bladder control. maybe its nothing more that being the one that will ease the homesickness rather than the one who will have it. The last time I came home from camp I was taken to the hospital to see my dad in the ICU after a heart attack. I am hoping Jordan has a less eventful return, but I will say this, for all the worries and stresses that I work through each day (and I do seem to have a gift for worry) I imagine that the courage it takes to load up onto a bus of strangers and go away for a week to the middle of nowhere is a lot...and the courage it takes to walk away from said bus with a cheery smile, while your kid continues to wave is no small thing.