9.30.11

Will made up for the massive public temper tantrum he threw at Kroger this afternoon by being adorable during family pizza night. (As I type this, by the way, we are on incredible temper tantrum number two, but at least it's in the privacy of our house.)


Let me preface family pizza night. I was obsessed (like crazy shrieky mom obsessed) with Will eating homemade organic food and only homemade organic food up until he was about 10 months old. My mom told me she fed him lunch meat and I almost freaked out. 


The lunch meat debacle was my wake up call. It was time to have a heart-to-heart with myself. "Self," I said, "Would a hot dog every now and then destroy Will?" The answer was, of course, "No," and I relaxed quite a bit. 


This past weekend, Greg and I saw a commercial for Pillsbury biscuit dough pizzas.


I started laughing hysterically.


"You know what's so funny about this? Two years ago I would have proclaimed, 'My child will never eat processed biscuit dough pizzas for dinner!' And now I totally get it! I just watched that commercial and instead proclaimed, 'Genius! My kid will totally eat that!'" 


And so we made processed biscuit dough pizzas for dinner, complete with pre-shredded out-of-a-bag cheese, jar spaghetti sauce, and extra salty, extra bad for you pepperoni.

Will did the "one pepperoni for the pizza, one pepperoni for my tummy" trick. 

And then when the pizzas came out of the oven, we dialed Mio's and ordered cheese pizza.


The top rack pizzas were still doughy...and stuck to the wax paper. The bottom rack pizzas were black on the bottom...and perhaps had even become one with the wax paper. 


But we'll do it again. Because it was fun. Because we did it as a family. Because there were no distractions, and we got to just watch and absorb everything about the little boy who's growing up so quickly right before our eyes. 


It was one of those joyful parent moments, I suppose. And with it, the month of joy comes to a close. 


October's intention is...

9.29.11

I've blogged at least ten times this year about how much I love my job.


Tonight I worked football game concessions. I haven't done this in...at least three years. I love concession stand soft pretzels, and hanging out with my favorite co-workers, doing math quickly in my head (keeps me sharp), and helping five-year-olds dig for the blue Air Heads.


But my most favorite part is seeing former students.


Middle school games are played at the high school, and the high school kids tend to stick around after practices to watch their "alma mater" and see younger friends. But really, I think they just want to see their old teachers.


It's so cool to see them a foot taller, voice an octave deeper, and just...grown! You hug them (often times awkward one-arm side hugs), and you ask the three standard questions:

• How are you?
• How do you like the high school?
• How are your grades?

And then you delve a little deeper, find out how their family is, how they're doing in sports, and what their future plans are. 

They often say silly things like, "I got an A in French!" or "I really miss your class!" and you wonder if maybe they're telling the truth. And then you don't really care if they are or not. 

And as they walk away, you say to yourself, "Gosh, it's good to see so-and-so doing so well." Even if they were your least favorite student in the whole world, it warms your heart to see they've grown up.

Or maybe it just warms your heart that you don't see them on a daily basis anymore...

...regardless, your heart is warm. 

And tonight, that filled me with joy.

9.28.11

I've got three joyful posts left.


I'm sending out one final push of joy (interestingly enough, the September 29 entry of one of my favorite books says you should share your kindness with the world. Kindness...joy...whatever. Okay Universe, I will).


My new sitter is getting married (round two) this weekend. Do I joyfully just wish her all the best or do I take part and get a gift? And if so, what? Things I'll need to ponder the next two days. I'll accept your suggestions happily.


I have two road trips coming up in the next two months. Thinking about them makes me gleeful! Not to mention yet another viewing of Wicked. Eeee! And speaking of "glee," I am so behind already. Must watch both episodes...soon! As I type, I have made Greg turn it on. Hoping he isn't sad that I'm forcing him to be gleeful. 


A sweet friend sent me a link to this today. The Kinding Mission has a new act of kindness challenge each month. So I'll need to select one last bit of joy to send out before October fourth. Check it out and pass it on. 


So that's what the last three days of joy are shaping up to look like. I'm sure there will be some happy surprises along the way...cheers! 

9.27.11

Today was one of those superhuman mom days.


The secret to being superhuman is breathing. No really.


I spent a portion of my plan bell blogging for yogahOMe (not posted til October) about practicing in the chaos of your house: you know, trying to do yoga with pets, a toddler, and background noise that involves Wiggles music, beeping oven timers, and vibrating phones.


It's like I was foreshadowing my evening!


So I went from teaching, to bus duty (I have to put that in there, because it really means no break between finishing school and anything that happens after school), to teaching yoga, to picking up Will, to getting home, feeding Will a snack, turning on the Wiggles, making dinner, doing the dishes, sitting long enough to close my eyes and take a breath, up with the oven timer, and here I am blogging before I change my clothes (again) and head to spinning.


But at least when I come home for good this evening, dinner will be completely ready. 


And at this point in my life, I really don't think I'd have it any other way. You might say it makes me joyful. I'm still smiling, so it must be okay.


Because it really is everything that makes me happy, even if it is with just a pause here and there. As long as I'm remembering to breathe, at least I'm doing that.

9.26.11

A loyal At least...that's my intention reader lost her father today.


I am heartbroken for her, mostly because I am putting myself in her shoes and feeling unimaginable grief. 


My way of coping with death is humor (I believe I mentioned earlier this month I enjoy thinking of Dane Cook bits while at funerals). I suppose a psychologist could label this as "avoidance." I prefer to think of it as "positive coping mechanism." I've been perusing one of her favorite sites (etsy) for a little pick-me-up package. I found a card that said, "Things could be worse...you could have herpes. You don't have herpes, do you?"


I laughed out loud, and if someone sent it to me in a time of sadness, I would probably laugh just as loud as I did today, if not louder, and I would welcome the relaxation in my face as I smiled. (Not to worry; I'm not purchasing it to send to anyone.)


In my most favorite essay, Transcending, Kelly Corrigan writes of the value of girlfriends in times of intense need. 


Eventually, someone who's not supposed to die will--maybe one of us, maybe a husband, God forbid a child--and all this celebrating and sharing and confessing will make certain essential comforts possible. We'll rally around and hold each other up, and it won't be nearly enough but it will help the time pass just a hair faster than it would have otherwise. We will wait patiently and lovingly for that first laugh after the loss. When it comes, and it will come, we will cry as we howl, as we clutch, as we circle. We will transcend, ladies. Because we did all this, in that worst moment, we will transcend.


Kate, I can't wait to hear about the first time you feel joy come back into your heart, when you feel that laugh heal you just a little bit, and that sensation of, "Yes, I'm going to be okay" runs through you, if just for a fleeting moment. 


Until then, I know your friends who are so near to you will rally around--they'll bake casseroles, and bring tissues, and offer you hugs and arms and shoulders and words. 


And you'll transcend. In this moment, and each that follows, you will transcend.

9.25.11

A not-so-joy of pregnancy...


migraines.


I miss Excedrin. 


Tylenol and Coke isn't cutting it.


And so, goodnight.

9.24.11

I feel the most spiritual joy when I am singing along at a Kirtan.


There is something about the sacred mantras sung in Sanskrit that makes my heart feel like it is going to burst from my chest. 


Tonight, Greg, Will and I all ventured to one (led by sweet soul Luna), and it was a lovely experience. Will let his little yogi self shine as we sang along. He danced, he downward dogged, and he lit up my heart a bit brighter. 


He also announced, toward the end of the meditation, "I tooted." But saying it once wasn't enough for this two-year-old. It was essential to say it over and over again, a little louder each time. 


There was definitely joy in that present moment, even if it was crude little boy potty humor. 


I was also full of goosebumps as Luna began the first song. Now, Will knows who Buddha is. He has seen his statue at every yogahOMe location and likes saying, "Hi Buddha! How you?" and often times giving him a high five. 


Today he discovered Ganesh, represented in the little elephant statue we have on a bookshelf. 


"Who dat mama?" 


"Ganesh. Can you say that?"


"Hey Ganesh! How you?"


Luna's first song tonight was a chant of Jai Ganesha. 


It brings me joy to introduce Will to all of these spiritual things that I never thought I would claim as my own. And yet here we are, high fiving Buddha and asking Ganesh how it's going. Love it.

9.23.11

For the last few years, I've assigned my sixth graders a community service project; just something small to ignite in them an appreciation for giving back. 


They've done some incredible things--from collecting food and blankets, to donating books and clothes. One student purchased a stranger's groceries one year with the money he'd earned cleaning shelves at the grocery store. There have been lots of neighbors who have had their lawns raked and mowed for free, and tons of trash picked up in the Colerain area. 


In an attempt to reach these technology savvy kids this year, I'm making them blog about their service--short and sweet and with a photo.


This sweet little angel posted last night. I am filled with joy.

9.22.11

It's amazing to me how much the five senses can evoke feelings of joy as we remember pleasant memories from moments past. What memorable sensations brings you joy? Do share! Here are a few of mine.

• The sound of high school marching band drum lines. 
• The smell of new clothes from lululemon.
• Reece's Cups in holiday shapes. Even better when they are in my desk drawer and consumed at 9 a.m.
• The flutters, hiccups, kicks and punches from the little life in my belly.
• Taking in the sights of Target's seasonal department. And then putting items into my red cart.
• The smell of campfires and charcoal grills.
• Catching a whiff of a perfume my mom wore growing up.
• The smell inside Big Apple Bagel. I spent a lot of high school afternoons there drinking hot chocolate and watching a friend make bagels.
• That post-shower feeling after a day at the beach.
• Wearing something new to work. Anything at all: bracelet, shoes, entire outfit or bra. 
• A greeting card in my mailbox.
• Birthday cake frosting.
• The sight of home after being away.
• Flannel sheets on a cold night.
• Family: their voices, seeing they called, reading their emails, hugging them, cooking for them, eating their food, remembering what you are a part of.

9.21.11

I walked into the house tonight post-yoga teaching and burst into tears. 


Greg hugged me. I explained my tears. 


"It's amazing to me how these blog topics literally fall into your lap," he said.


They were happy tears (I don't think I can say "tears of joy" in one more September blog post. Ugh). Here's why they were happy.


I started teaching tonight to a lovely group of women when one of my most favorite walked through the doors. 


Luna and I did our teacher training together. She happens to be the most happy, beautiful, beaming light, soul, person--inside and out.


She also has this voice, and she has CDs of her music, and she came tonight. To surprise me. To sing during savasana.


After class I hugged her, we caught up, I grabbed her new CD and I couldn't get it open fast enough and into the CD player in my car. 


I floated all the way home. I already knew the songs. I sang along, and just as I had instructed my students to do tonight, I filled up--on love and joy and all the good stuff in life. 


So when I walked in the door, those hormones, for once, provided me with some happy tears. 

9.20.11

We've been bee-bopping around spin instructors for awhile--our favorite left in May--and tonight we found Vickie. 


It also happened to be Vickie's first night. She was a joy. She was inspiring. I loved her music, her style, and the fact that she personally came to my bike twice and said, "Turn it up a notch--show me what you've got." 


Vickie is also the Cincinnati spearhead organizer for Spin for the Cure. She was inspired to start it by her friend with breast cancer, Heather Ray, who last year rode for five hours, with only one leg. Just a month or so after the ride, Heather lost her battle. 


So that was enough for me. 


Greg and I are going to Spin for the Cure on October 8th at the Cintas Center. I'm not sure where we are going to find the $300 to do it, but we will. The cause is too important, Vickie and her friend too inspiring. We'll each ride for two hours. We'll go on adrenaline. 


And we will smile, for all those who have survived, and in celebration of those who have left. 


I'm sure we will be surrounded by tears, but perhaps they will be tears of joy. And I'll pedal my pregnant heart out, for Amanda's Aunt Jackie, and for Libby's mom Nancy, and for Angie, who teaches in the hallway above mine and leaves school and drives to chemo, and for all of you who know someone who has been affected. 


I can't wait.

9.19.11

It's said that when we no longer need things, they often disappear, to let us know that we've grown and we are okay.


A good friend recently lost her wedding ring. As soon as she had come to terms with it and let it go, her husband found it, covered in soot but intact (and ready for a shiny new setting). In my opinion, it wandered off in the first place to help her understand the beauty in letting go of the material, when we know the lesson by heart.


Greg purchased a beautiful necklace for me several years ago for Christmas. It was a crazy looking woman, arms sort of wrapped around herself. I called it my "self love" necklace. 


At some point, she disappeared. I couldn't find her anywhere. My sweet yoga teacher told me she went away because I didn't need her anymore. I had taken on everything I needed to from it.


Three or so years down the road, she reappeared, in a spot I had looked a hundred times before. She was a little tarnished, and yet beaming back at me as if to say, "Just dropping in. How is everything?" 


The point in putting this all out there is that I donated this t-shirt recently to a local charity. I'm losing it on purpose.

I purchased it in Paris several years ago--I saw so many people with similarly phrased shirts walking the streets, I went so far as to inquire about the store, and tracked it down in the Latin Quarter.


J'ai décidé d'être heureuse.


I decided to be happy.


Maybe I wasn't at the time. Maybe I needed a little reminder, and it made me happy to have the pretty French script shout it for the world to see. I decided to be happy, won't you be happy, too? it seems to ask. 


I hope someone finds it, and doesn't know what it says. I hope they pick it up and buy it for a dollar, and then go home and figure it out. 


I hope they smile, and think, "Yeah, I needed this. I should decide to be happy. Happy is where it's at." 


Just spreading a little joy, one "lost" Parisian t-shirt at a time. 

9.18.11

Since we moved to Mt. Washington five years ago, Greg and I have come to know Umbrella Man.

Well we don't really know him. We don't know his name. We don't know where he lives. But we know that so long as the weather is good, he'll be out for a walk, usually with his umbrella, just in case.

Now, among our list of characters we see in the Mount, we also have Bee-Bop Girl, Angry Ex-Con, Motor Scooter Man, and Well-Dressed Old Dude, all of whom we see walking the streets of Mt. Washington.

But I think our favorite is Umbrella Man.

We saw him at Anderson Days Festival this summer, and Will threw his first frisbee right at him, unintentionally of course. Umbrella Man freaked a little and ran away.

We've seen him at the Creamy Whip, purchasing day old pastries and hearing the bakery worker say, "Don't eat 'em all on your way home now!" Umbrella Man laughed. Pretty sure they were gone before he reached the corner. 

But today we saw him, dressed in his Sunday finest--suit, tie, and umbrella--and something different, too: a smile.

Umbrella Man has conversations on his walks, never with anyone in particular. Sometimes he has a Big Gulp. Usually his hands are clasped behind his back. But he never, never is smiling.

I'm not sure what brought him such joy today. We surmised that perhaps he had come from church, where he was able to fill himself up with the message of the sermon and carry it throughout his day. Then we guessed that maybe it was just Donut Day and he enjoyed a donut and some apple juice after mass. 

Regardless, the pep in his step and the smile on his face brought us joy, and we hope that Umbrella Man spends the rest of the afternoon and evening as happy as we saw him this morning.

9.17.11

Joy is a creme puff from Schmidt's in Columbus.

It was a joyful party in all three of our bellies this afternoon as we ventured to Oktoberfest Zinzinnati. 


It's a good thing the vendors never change where they are. We exit the Westin, turn right, and hit up some sauerkraut balls and creme puffs. This year, we squeezed in a soft pretzel. The baby did back handsprings in my belly it was so happy. 


Will's first true creme puff taste was also a joy. It made him so happy, he danced.

And yes, the French teacher can adore German food. My mom's maiden name is Bernhard (and this vendor is downtown every year):

And my father-in-law has always pronounced our last name "Cowfman" in true German fashion.


Next year, I'll be sure to sport a Sam Adams in one hand, a toddler in the other, and perhaps an infant on my chest. 


That will be a joy for sure.

9.16.11

Joy is...


Friday. Jeans Day. Starbucks. Favorite scarf.

Trolling the aisles of TajmaKroger with a relatively happy tot for delicious fall things like apple cider, caramel, and something really cool for dinner, like tater tots.


Canceling what were sure to be really fun Friday night plans so you can stay home and be a family. And sleep.


Running to Target to replace a DVD player and finding your neighbors there being as cool as you are.


Knowing there are really fun things ahead for the rest of the weekend, good weather, and two opportunities to catch up on sleep. 


Joy is sleep. 

9.15.11

I carried Will into his room for storytime tonight. We jumped on the bed and he was laughing about yogurt--you know, because yogurt is funny. (Especially when you're two.)


He ended up laying with his head in my lap, and it wasn't until ten minutes or so into this sweet moment that I realized he had been telling me things about his day--who he played with, what he did, what he ate--and I was suddenly very aware that I have this little boy who remembers things, and knows when things are funny, and can tell me all about them in mostly complete sentences. When did this all happen? 


Curious about our giggling, Greg found us and snapped this picture.

To add to the sweetness, Will didn't want me to read the books tonight; instead, he flipped from page to page, pointing out the things he zooms in on every night, giving me his own version of the pookie dance and the blankie that Kiki loses.


I tucked in my pint-sized complete person, wishing him sweet dreams with that vivid imagination, and paused outside the door.


That was a true joy of parenthood. 

9.14.11

The amount of time I spend reading my DailyOM emails is zero.


Unless I'm stuck in traffic.


And then I break car laws and I read them. On my phone.


Today's was a gem. And it's why I'm the first to crack jokes when something horribly depressing happens. It's why, at funerals, I imagine Dane Cook doing his "Peace and peace and Reese's Pieces" bit. It sums up why I feel life is too short to be sad, dramatic, and dark. Life is meant to be lived joyfully. Here you go.


Seeing the lighter side of life allows us to delight in the joys of the world around us. While there are many issues that concern us, it is so important to think of life in positive and less dire terms, since there is often very little in our immediate surroundings that is really an emergency. Changing the way we view events through humor and play lets us relish every moment we have, and we will gain more in our lives as a result. Worry and concern will only get us so far; it is our positive outlook that usually carries us through even the darkest times. 


And then still stuck in traffic, I found these two "kids," and I laughed out loud at their love, and their joy (and their innocent cluelessness).


Be joyful friends. If you have the choice, why would you choose anything else? 

9.13.11

Epiphany number 1 on the day: It brings me the greatest joy in the whole wide world to teach people how to breathe. I had nine teachers sign up for my after-school yoga class, and I was able to share the joy of breathing with the five who were able to attend today. It was nothing short of miraculous to watch them lay, and breathe. You could almost feel their bogged down stressed out minds turning to piles of mushy present moment goo as they did. Glorious.


Epiphany number 2 on the day: I had the privilege to take a class with a gal I consider a mentor tonight, and it was awesome. The one doing the breathing was me, and I moved and stretched and released and sighed and reveled, with her guidance. The epiphany was how much a vigorous workout yoga class used to be my "thing." And it no longer is. I've said before I no longer like to get my arse kicked in a yoga class. I mean, I suppose we all need a little arse kicking every once in awhile. And I will teach those arse kicking classes to my students' hearts' content, but...I think I just find my rigorous workout elsewhere now, and I want my yoga practice to be this loving, slow, touching sweetness of poses. My pitta is calming--is that even possible?!?! 

9.12.11

I supported the Postal Service today and sent out lots of joy through the mail! Isn't getting mail the best? I sure do hope the government finds some ca$h to keep 'em going! 


I'm going to take the rest of the night just for me. I've been primary caregiver for the last 3-4 days to an injured tot and a husband with the foulest case of food poisoning I've ever seen. I've got a date at the gym where I'll sweat out some toxins, release some pent up energy, and get my joy on. 


I like that. What are you doing to get your joy on tonight?

9.11.11

I spent the summer of 2001 interning in Manhattan. Many nights, I'd run across the Brooklyn Bridge and take in the incredible skyline--panning the view, Statue of Liberty started it out on the left, Twin Towers, then all of the other incredible buildings and skyscrapers that make NYC what it is.


On August 5, 2001, I left the Marriott World Trade Center hotel after an evening out, remarked to my boyfriend at the time that I always wanted to eat at Windows on the World, and was reassured we'd be back to do it. 


On August 8, 2001, I flew home from my summer internship in Manhattan, excited about the possibilities of returning the following year, to start my career in magazines after graduation.


And then, like every single reader pausing along these words, I remember exactly where I was and who told me about the attack on our country on September 11.


But what was so selfish of me--I mean really, incredibly selfish and so typical of someone who is 20-years-old and ridiculously "world revolves around me" involved--is that I wasn't just sad for New York and DC and the families and people affected by the events--I was sad because someone ruined the NYC I loved. 


Although it had been smoldering for quite some time, I think my journalism dream was completely extinguished that day.


Best part about it is the sense of relief it brings knowing I did what was right for me, 9/11 or not, and the joy that I am currently experiencing because of the paths I chose instead.


Ten years is a long time. I think about the growing up that I did in the last ten years--the changing and evolving as a person into the daughter, wife, mother, friend, sister that I am today.


As Americans, look at the changing and evolving we, too, have done. Some for the better (remember September 12th? Remember that sense of everyone being a friend and the true unity our country experienced?), some for the annoying (oh how flying is such a pain now!).


Every year since 2001 I've been a little less emotional on this day. It comes, I suppose, with time and distance from the event. As much as the media wants me to sit in front of the TV and cry for hours today, I won't. I will meditate, and send peace and loving kindness to the world. And then I will reflect on the joyous things in life--the ones that make me smile. We need more smiles on this day. 


As you reflect on the milestone of this date, as you are bombarded by images in the media over and over again, take time to look at you, at how far you've come, at the joy you have in your life even on what is a day of sadness. Appreciate the growth and change that ten years can bring to you, to your neighbors, to the world.


On August 5, 2011, I celebrated my pint-sized ball of energy turning two.


On August 8, 2011, I continued to revel in this second pregnancy.


On September 11, 2011, I reflected on the joy in ten years of growing.

9.10.11

Pardon my bragging, but this 3 months pregnant lady just placed second in her age group at the College Hill 5k Rhythm Run. 

You know, I took about 11 years off from running, found a magical chiropractor who cured me of my blues, and miraculously, the joy of the sport came back. 


It's amazing what happens when you run, just because. Just for fun.


I owe mass props to my cousin, Brandon, who took the jogging stroller from me on the first hill and wouldn't let me take it back. Nice guy, that one. (Greg is currently on the bathroom floor with a stomach bug.) 


I thought about sleeping in my medal tonight, but I think it looks better on Will. His cheers, after all, kept me going. 

9.9.11

I just want to say thank you to the person who sent me this anonymously today.

When I picked "joy" for September, I really wanted to share it, spread it, send it out to friends and family, readers, the world. I had that epiphany this afternoon that I am already sharing it, and have been for awhile. 


What feels most amazing is that you all are sharing it right back.


Thank you for reading and letting me be joyful with you. Thank you for bringing me joy. 

9.8.11

Sometimes you just have to harbor all the joy for yourself.


Aside from the fact that I returned to setting my Fantasy Football Team on Thursday nights (happy happy joy joy!), I had these two packages waiting for me when I got home.


These shoes? Oh yeah, they were FREE (points I'd earned in that silly little shoe of the month club).

This "maternity" belt (that I'm going to try to rock tomorrow despite not being anywhere near maternity-sized yet) was an etsy steal that I customized everything for. How can that little bling in the center of that giant teal flower not make me smile? 

It all makes up for the dreadful Textbook Toddler Terrible Twos that greeted me after work. Sigh. I'll take all the advice I can get there. No really. Throw it at me. The toddler threw a plastic horse at my head today. Give me what you've got, advice givers. Bring back the joyful toddler! 

9.7.11

Dear CMS Staff...and by "staff" I mean "friends"...and by "friends" I mean "family," because we really do go through so much stuff together, that we are absolutely extended family,


I have read a lot of facebook posts, heard in the halls, and discussed in conversations these first few days of school about how you seem to feel "overwhelmed," "like I'm drowning," "challenged," and "exhausted."


I'm blogging tonight, mostly as a little pep talk. I'm going to break this down by subject, offer my take on things, maybe make you laugh, maybe bring you joy, hopefully offer you a bright perspective.


Curriculum
Most of you have new curriculum that you are being forced into taking on, and you spent a lot of your summer in the place you wanted to be the least: the very few air conditioned rooms of our fabulous 90 year-old-building. 


The new everything that has been plopped into an unorganized pile on tables and chairs--and worst of all, your desk--in your classroom can make you feel like you are drowning in a sea of overwhelming BS that makes you in one breath say, "Okay, I think I can tackle this," and then in the next find yourself saying, "This is BS! I'm done!" 


Even if you wanted to get organized, not only has your plan bell been shortened by five minutes, an entire one has been taken away! Where's this magical planning time supposed to come from? No, I'm not being sarcastic.


My voice of reason is this: take it one day at a time. The only thing constant in our profession is change. In this day and age, a teacher can't go into a classroom and teach one grade level, one subject, for 30 years, and then retire. Your only choice here is to accept the challenge. Make this curriculum your own. Add your creativity, your projects, your stories. Don't forget that the kids are learning from and want to learn from you--not from what you have in a new text, workbook, novel, or freaking reading score test. If you are really unhappy and unable to get past this, your flexibility and experience will look great on a resume! 


The Lack of Bells
I personally enjoy this. My atomic clock missed the memo from the satellite and is slightly off. Regardless, 30 seconds here or there isn't going to make an authority march to your classroom and demand to know what is UP. 


Let's talk about time between bells. Personally, I have 8 minutes between one bell, and 2 minutes the rest of the day. So...I have time to eat breakfast, send an email, have a conversation or two, wander the halls, and use the bathroom, and then the rest of the day I have enough time to take a breath and walk from my desk to my door while hoping my shirt sleeve erases the board as I fly by.


Here's my bright side: Gotta pee in that two minutes? Go! Who's going to fault you for having to pee? I mean...really? Not gonna happen. And while you're at it, refill your water bottle and walk a little slower. You are allowed to take a second to breathe! 


Overall Uneasiness Dealing with Change
You can't change change. There's no reversing it. All we can do is change how we think about it. Stop dwelling on all those overwhelming feelings of "Oh sh*t!" and start looking at all the things that are going RIGHT in your day! In fact, before you walk out the door, write down on a piece of paper one thing you were happy about. You will leave a different person. You'll go home to your spouses and children and feel...dare I say it...joyful? 


Breathe. And if you don't know how, come to yoga. There's a massage after. You could end one day every week with a massage. Um, hello heaven? 


Find something to look forward to. Go buy a candle for your classroom. Make a new mix to listen to on your way to and from work. Do a lunch swap with your lunch friends. Get Starbucks on Friday and join me at the top of the gym for a "Cheers!" to the week! 


Lastly, rely on each other. Vent, whine, complain, and then immediately a.) talk about something else or b.) say something positive. 


You can do this. You can find joy. It will get easier. You have to believe it. Because I do. All we have is each other.


Sincerely,
Your Colleague

9.6.11

Today I dropped a puppet show stage on my chin, spent a good bit of time in traffic, and am currently being forced to watch The Wiggles dance on a pirate ship for the 330th time against my will.


But I just saw this.


And I can't keep from the joy that is spilling out through my tears. Watch it. Get inspired. 

9.5.11

My heart is joyful tonight; my leopard snuggie has made an appearance, currently wrapped around me.


I'm not sure how we went from a high of 100 degrees two days ago to a high of 60 degrees today, but I found myself welcoming the change and reveling in all things fall.


Perhaps my nesting instinct kicked in as well, as I was in the kitchen most of the afternoon.

That's chili in the crockpot, noodles for Will, pumpkin apple bread bars, chocolate chip cookies, and muffins. Several classes of students (and teachers, too!) are going to get lots of joy in their bellies tomorrow! 


The morning was spent at the Terrace Park parade and festival. So much fun filling Will's system with lollipop sugar and then watching him run around like a fool. 

What a way to wrap up a long weekend. It'll be 80 degrees again next weekend, but a joyful pumpkin season to you all! 

9.4.11

In the interest of you, my readers, I just made myself a cup of coffee at 7 p.m. so I could bring you this joyful treat. Seriously. It's joy in a cup. I may not sleep for hours, but it's joy in a cup!


A facebook friend posted a link to a pumpkin spice syrup recipe for lattes. Since my nausea has pretty much dissipated, and I allow myself one caffeinated beverage a day, and it was gray and dreary all day, I decided it was time to make the syrup. Helloooooo fall!


It promised to kick the Starbucks pumpkin spice latte habit. Expectations were high.


And I am so happy to say, they were met! If it's possible, I like it better than the $5 variety down the street!


Here's my version of the recipe, doctored to suit my tastebuds that don't particularly care for ginger (although you can find the original version here). Grab a can of pumpkin tomorrow (they were half gone at my grocery store today--are people stocking up for Thanksgiving already??) and enjoy!


1 1/2 cups water
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1 tbsp. ground cinnamon, or 4 cinnamon sticks
1/2 tsp. ground cloves
1/4 tsp. nutmeg
1/4 tsp. ground ginger
2 1/2 tbsp. pumpkin puree


In a saucepan over medium heat, dissolve the sugar into the water. Once it is dissolved, add the remainder of the ingredients. Do not let the mixture boil. Instead, heat it for 6-8 minutes, stirring frequently. 


The mixture did say to strain it. I did not see a reason to do this step.


For my latte, I poured the syrup into coffee with milk to suit my tastebuds. You could always add whipped creme. Mmmmmm.


Store in your refrigerator (I poured mine into an old coffee creamer bottle). I'm sure it will keep for at least a week!

9.3.11

After the tummy troubles last week, Will managed to catch a cold this week. Sniffles and sneezes and coughs and overall icks don't make a toddler very happy.


The fix? An impromptu banana pancakes breakfast brought joy to him. Eating with the sunlight streaming through the window brought joy to his mom.

I also had Greg hang my trash-to-treasure find. Remember when I found the half-door in my neighbor's garbage? See it here. A thorough cleaning and a couple rough coats of paint, and it's now the family memo board: a dry erase marker works great on the glass for reminders, and thumb tacks are holding up save-the-dates, birth announcements, and the best part, the projects Will is doing in school. Can't wait to cover this bad boy with Christmas cards in just a few months! Oh the joy! 

Finally, I got a little happiness in my mailbox today from a sweet, sweet friend. A little Starbucks love and a handwritten note made my hormones kick back in. But today they were tears of joy.

9.2.11

I'll be honest. It's hard to find joy in a classroom as hot as our entire building was today. I know many schools near us were in the same boat, so I'll end my complaining there.


I was grateful for a sweet teacher who invited me to use her air conditioned room during her plan bell. So kind, really.


As I left school, ready for a long weekend full of what I hope is lots of sleep, I felt I deserved a treat for surviving. So in a snap decision I made a quick stop at McDonald's for a chocolate milkshake.


I thought about perhaps purchasing one for the car behind me as well. But then I thought, what if that person is diabetic? Or on a diet? Or lactose intolerant? Too many possibilities. So I decided that I would spread some more joy to the teacher who so graciously shared her cool room today. On Tuesday, I'll be bringing her some joyful love. 


As for that milkshake, well, it was joy in a cup. Is it bad to find joy in food? Does that signify some kind of food issue? If it's wrong, I don't want to be right. That milkshake carried me home and even made traffic okay. Must have been the whipped creme and cherry on top. Or the coldness cooling me down from the inside. Or the sheer excitement of a long weekend. Cheers.

9.1.11

Joy.


That's September's intention.


And no, there isn't a photo of the candle. I think I'll post it tomorrow night.


See, I just had another one of those pregnant lady hormone cries. For the past half hour, I've been crying...again...I'm going to go ahead and blame this one on exhaustion from adjusting to the new schedule, and the heat. With a heat index of 110 tomorrow, I think I'd like to change the intention to "Feeling Arctic." Nah...soon enough.


The thing with this intention of joy is that I really do seek it out already in each day (but clearly I'm needing it a little more in this moment). So this month I'm doing something a little different: I'll be spreading the joy to others.


Bare minimum, I will make thirty different people smile, open their hearts, and allow themselves to feel happiness. 


I have a yoga student who I got to know really well. She recently moved to St. Louis for a new everything, disguised as a new job. She has a beautiful practice, and I miss her energy dearly. Today I sent her a lululemon gift card I actually purchased for her months ago. I hope that she will go and experience the joy that is a lulu Power Y tank, or something of the sort. 


Going to blow my nose one more time, and put myself to bed. Looking forward to the next twenty-nine days of Joy.