Memoirs of Physical Education

So a little while ago I read a post on Anna's blog which inspired me to write this. To confess and to share for any of you who do not know my history with physical education. P.E. Even the name creates stress.

In the little town where I grew up there was one PE teacher and she was a large woman who didn't seem to like petite girls who preferred dancing to arm wrestling. PE was required for 2 1/2 years; I lasted 1 1/2. My parents decided the class was doing me more mental harm than physical good and found a good doctor who agreed.

My memories of her teaching style include:
*She gave permission to the popular girls to throw the least popular girl into the shower, because they thought she needed one. She also told them that they could cut classes and she'd cover for them, IF they came to her. Otherwise, if they were caught, she'd make sure they paid big.
*Jump rope skills were taught by demonstrating the skill, and then having all the girls practice until they had it. Once they had it, they sat on the floor. Just picture sixty girls sitting in a circle waiting for the last girl to figure out the grape vine with a jump rope. Need I say that Suzy Cheerleader wasn't the last one to figure out that maneuver?
*One day she announced that someone was chewing gum and told them to come up and deposit it in the wastebasket. Someone did. Then she said someone else was chewing gum. And the cycle repeated, and repeated, and repeated, until no one came up. Then she excused everyone in the class save one . . . Gloria, a quiet girl who never got in trouble. A while later Gloria was presented to the class where she gave a tearful apology for chewing gum.

Well, so you know, I was a mere bystander in all those incidents. For me, the painful memories came at the hands of my classmates. The teacher simply created an environment of fear and nonacceptance. Being chosen last. Being volunteered when someone was absent from the other team. Being yelled at for missing the ball. Being laughed at when I didn't miss it. "Did you see how happy she looked?!" I learned that PE (and therefore sports) was anything but fun.

Fast forward several decades. It's a mother-daughter volleyball game at the junior high and I'm being a good sport and a good mother. And I'm standing in front of the net, fighting the tears and the memories and self-talking my way through the experience. "It's okay that I can't hit a ball. I can make fudge. I can make prom dresses. I have given birth to seven children. Hitting a ball doesn't matter." It was a significant moment--a moment of coming to terms with myself.

My children have taught me--along with many other things--that sports with them can be fun. I remember the first time I kicked a ball. Literally, I think. I was at the park with my children. I told Danny, who was younger than Andrew then, that I didn't know how to play the games and he looked ever so sad and told me he would teach me. And so they have.

Now I love to play One Bounce and volleyball and soccer with the family. I love that my boys are so good to me that they hit the ball so that I can get it and apologize when they don't. Sports really can be fun! (But still not as fun as dancing!)

Dinner Discussions

It all began with a new 3rd grade student I'm working with. After Day One, I noticed that she had a really limited vocabulary. Words like "whirl" and "twirl" aren't in it. Day Three, I realized that "buns" isn't in it either. (She read the word as "bones" and when I asked her if that made sense, she looked at me as if it made as much sense as anything else she was attempting to read--which may be true, since I'm not sure that she understands a lot of what she reads!) You don't know what buns are? Nope. Hot dog buns? Hamburger buns? Nope. You know--the bread you put the meat between? Has this child never eaten at McDonalds?! Nope.

So I was telling the literacy specialist about her limited vocabulary--he called it lacking an academic vocabulary--(academic? BUNS!) and said, "Who uses words like "twirl" and "whirl" in their homes?" "Ummmmmm--we do," I think, but don't say. And then he says he'd bet she's struggling in science and social studies too, because (fill in the blank) who talks about science and social studies in their homes?! Uh--shall I answer this?

Recent dinner conversations have centered on poison dart frogs and breeding fruit flies to feed them. (Thanks Eric). And no, I'm not kidding.

And that's just the beginning. Sorry kids. You have a dad who's a walking encyclopedia and a mom who starts a conversation by saying things like, "If you were stranded in a hotel room and all your family was missing and you couldn't speak the language and you'd been told not to leave the room or really bad things would happen to you . . . what would you do?"

I guess normal families don't do that.

What I Would Have Blogged About

I'M BACK! You have no idea how excited I am to finally have internet restored to our house! It took three trips to the house to get the job done, but it finally happened, and now I'm happily catching up on all that I've missed. (And P.S. our home phone is working again too!)

As for you, here are some of the blog titles you might have read:

1) A survey: what's the last thing you'd expect to see my husband doing on New Year's Eve?
a) dancing b) cooking c) karaoking in front of the ward d) getting a root canal

2) Driving six miles across the Hoover Dam in two hours, while watching the gas gage drop from nearly empty to completely empty

3) Kids say the darndest things (subtitled, I have no response to that):

"I am thankful for not killing people" (written by a 2nd grader in response to a Thanksgiving assignment asking for a list of things you're thankful for)

Me, introducing a new book: "Do you like camping?"
4th grader: "I like camping, but I'm kind of scared of camping since my cousin got eaten by a bear when he was camping."

(And one that warmed my heart and reminded me that there really are terrific parents in the world!) In response to being asked to tell me what he'd done wrong: "When I get home I'm going to repent, because I'm eight now."

4) Guess who's getting married! And guess who's having babies! The family just keeps growing and growing!

So happy to be back on line!

Catching up and Celebrating the Unplanned!

I've been without internet access for a couple of lonely, sad months, with only brief moments here and there when I've tried to snatch a few moments at someone else's computer and tried to reconnect.  Such is the case now:  I find myself in Tucson with a computer at my disposal, and having deleted all the hundreds of read and unread emails, I think it's time for a short update to my readers--whoever, or wherever they may be!

It's nearly a new year, and like every other year, and with some time away from the routine, I find myself thinking about change.  Not to be confused with resolutions because that sounds so like everyone else (and--let's be honest--so won't happen).  Stuff I just need to do because. Here's to a fabulous 2009 that's filled with many accomplishments:  becoming healthy, becoming organized, and seeing my name on the cover of a book.  Taking control of my life in the smallest ways:  the inevitable five o'clock dinner question comes to mind as well as about a hundred other little things that just need to be planned. 

For instance, why can't I meet a December 1 deadline if I can meet a December 25 deadline?  It's questions like that which have been occupying my mind lately.  

As for celebrating the unplanned, we were the happy hosts of unhappy Christmas guests who wanted to be elsewhere but were determined to make the most of a situation which was beyond their control.  We loved sharing Christmas with Eric, Briana, Elena, and Danielle!  Thanks for hanging out with us!  And now we're enjoying a few impulsive days in Tucson, giving horsie rides to the grandkids and playing games with their parents!  So good to see Christy, Tom & Sophie and Jenny, Eric, Parker, Caleb & Maren.  Thanks for letting us crash your party!

Tomorrow we return to the snow, our young single adult kids, our puppy and our routine, our cups filled and ready to go to work!  

Happy New Year!

Kai--tender mercy or dirty animal?

The downside:
1) She sheds. Brushing and vacuuming help, but still, she sheds.

2) She smells like a dog, especially when wet. Bathing helps, but still, she smells like a dog, especially when it's been a week.

3) What goes in must come out, and nobody particularly enjoys yard duty.

The upside:
1) She loves you no matter what you do. When she can choose to be anywhere she wants, she'll choose to be with you. Guaranteed: nobody else will mourn your absence or greet your return with as much enthusiasm as she will. Even if you ignore her.

2) She's always up for a game, and you get to choose when, where and what. No need to negotiate or compromise. If you want to go somewhere or do something, she's always excited to join you.

3) She's a gentle alarm clock for sleepy sons! A snuggle and wet kiss coax reluctant wakers from their beds a lot easier than the whole plethera of clock radios, snooze buttons, squirt bottles and yelling/shaking/threatening/begging routines.

4) She's an empathetic listener when you're feeling sad, and she'll never interrupt or tell you you're wrong.

5) Her number one goal in life is to please you! Who else can you say that about?

I was thinking about this one day when I noticed her dirty paw prints crossing my clean kitchen floor, and it hit me--the simple truth: it's a choice. I thought of all the furry and not so furry creatures who have shared our home over the years, and realized that--while I would love to have a floor that stays clean and a house that always smells sweet--I choose life with what Julie called "the best toy" and Danny called "a tender mercy." The love and the joy makes the inconvenience worth it.

What is wrong with this picture?

Waiting at the checkout stand last night, I surveyed the magazine covers--and this caught my attention: Clay Aiken with an infant. The headline: "Yes, I'm gay!" From the smaller print, apparently the new dad has decided he has to be honest with the little one, as well as the rest of the world.

Say what? Something about this picture just isn't working for me!

What a crazy, mixed up world we live in!

One Hundred Words

That's it. I've been sitting in front of this computer screen for close to two hours and all I have to show for it is about 100 words. How can it be that something so much a part of me, something that screams to be heard--can be so much like pulling teeth some days?! I feel like whoever it was (a name you would recognize) who, the story is told, was found distraught one day and asked, "How many words did you get today?" He said something like "five" and then wailed, "But I don't know what order they go in."

But I'm so close! I've passed my 60,000 word goal, the characters are converging and the plot is winding down. Why is it so hard now?

P.S. I have yet to hear a single title suggestion . . .