Somebody Shoot Me

Today, I received an email from a student that read something like this: "i can't do this assignment will you please shoot me now." I have to admit I had a good laugh over it, but then I began to look at all I had to accomplish this week and thought, "Honey, I feel your pain." While I should be plowing away at these Comp. 1 papers, writing two tests for tomorrow, and grading through an enormous amount of quizzes and group projects--all so I can turn in midterm grades by Friday at noon--I choose to take a few moments out of the chaos to write down a few of my own words. It never fails. The 8th week of classes, I find myself behind in grading and ready to pull my hair out. In fact, I should take a few moments to thank God for giving me super thick hair because by now, in my seventh year of this madness, I should have none. Anyway, it will all be over in a few short days. In a few short days, I will find myself back in Oxford, where I first met my husband and took some of my first steps in pursuing my dream job which, temporarily, has become a grading hell hole, and I will watch Ole Miss stomp the hell out of Auburn (hey, a girl can dream). In a few short days, I won't have to multitask bouncing a toddler on my lap while combing through the Mrs.-Brown-please-give-me-some-extra-credit-because-I-failed-to-do-the-assigned-work emails. It's coming--in just a few short days. Until...it starts back up again around Weeks 14-16. Shoot me now.

Vincent Jude--15 month old Extraordinaire

Yesterday, we took Jude for his 15 month check-up (even though he turns 16 months in about a week). This was our first trip back to the pediatrician since his 12 month check-up. You read that right. Jude has not been sick in months. My pocketbook thanks him. Let's just keep this streak a-goin.' Anyway, he got three shots, none of which he particularly loved. As usual, he didn't hesitate to make us aware of his strong feelings toward the shots. Another part of the visit that had him come apart almost as much included the head measurements. That kid will wear a hat to bed if I would let him, but put a measuring tape around his noggin, and prepare to hear screams loud enough to alert DHS. So here are a few stats: Height--32 in. 70th percentile Weight--24.3 lbs. 50th percentile Head Circumference--can't remember, but a healthy sized egg head for sure Teeth--more than the entire population of Alabama (Seriously, kid's got a lot of teeth. Doc thinks he'll have them all in before the year is up.) His weight is up more than it has ever been. He usually fluctuated somewhere between the 25th and 35th percentile, but now we're dead on average. I guess I feed him pretty well. I don't quite understand the rapid weight gain since I closely monitor his eating. The child has never met a french fry or chicken nugget and won't for a very long time. Of course, Doc seems quite pleased with the weight gain, so therefore I'm happy with it too. I actually experiment a lot with his diet. Weird food that Jude seems to enjoy includes beets, anything with leeks in it, butternut squash and apple soup, hummus, lamb, and roasted eggplant. Of course, he loves a banana, so much so, that he learned to say "banana" before "mama." We're even thinking of dressing him as a banana for Halloween. We still don't walk yet, but Doc says no big deal. Truthfully, I hadn't been too terribly concerned about it. I know he has the ability, but he's a very cautious child. I've never seen a baby play with toys as carefully as Jude does. He picks them up, examines them from every possible angle, puts them down, and then plays. He does the same thing with his feet. He'll slowly put one in front of the other, stay that way for a second, and then ultimately decide "Nope. Not today" and bring that foot back. So yeah, I imagine walking will take a while. He crawls like a champ, though, and he can walk pretty good if he holds on to the edge of something. I did score some wicked awesome mom points for not giving Jude a night bottle any more. In fact, he kicked that habit before he turned one. He's also a very good water drinker--probably because I won't give him anything else, except for milk no more than twice a day. I actually need to start doing this for myself as well. Of course, as proud as I am of his development, he's not perfect. (Oh, who am I kidding? Of course he is!)He still likes to get into the cat food, which always results in none of us being happy. I fuss, he cries, and Weezy sulks. So far, I like the toddler stage, but I do miss my infant. God blessed me with a child who has been more or less easy from the moment of his conception. I pray every day for his continued happiness and health.

Validation

Ever have one of those days where you just realize you've chosen the right path? Today proved that kind of day for me, and what a great feeling, too. My seventh year at Holmes has not gotten off to such a hot start, not because I hate my job or anything, but because I've had to endure so many changes at once, from a friend retiring to a four day school week to teaching both eight AND sixteen week courses to learning a new software writing program that, quite frankly, stinks. About two weeks ago, at about the time I spent two hours of my precious office time working through some software kinks and chewing out the company's tech support, I made a decision. I would no longer let any of this get me down. Sure, by the time I get home these days I would like to worry less about getting supper on the table and just pass out instead, but I had to find a way to roll with the punches or lose my sanity completely. Therefore, I took the ol' take-it-one-day-at-a-time approach. It has been no easy feat for sure. I still stress out on a daily basis, but today, I realized that it didn't matter what problems I had with work because I realized that I really am in the right place! This semester, I teach an eight week Beginning English class. This course is for students who couldn't score high enough on the ACT to go into Comp. 1, so they take two semesters of Pre-Core English to finally get to the point where they can take the college level class. In short, the average ACT English subscore probably averages out to about a single digit. While I can't promise these students will be the next Pulitzer Prize recipients, I can pretty much guarantee some proficiency when they leave my class. Working with this clientele isn't easy, and it isn't for anybody. Some days, I walk into a very hostile environment, and other days they don't complain; they don't take notes, but they don't piss me off either. Every day, though, they just want me to care about them whether they realize it or not. This semester, I've had the "pleasure" of teaching two young men who, quite frankly, have made me want to rip my own face off since week one. They do just enough that I can't kick them out, but talk about a couple of jerks. Anyway, this morning, to get the students ready for their next test, I would randomly pose questions throughout today's lesson and throw pencils at the students who answered the questions correctly. This seemed to awaken my two fellas, as they pretty much dominated that game. Of course, I ran out of pencils but wanted to keep the momentum going so I just started throwing random pieces of chalk and Post-It note papers at them, which thrilled them just as well. Anyway, I don't understand why such a thing changed their tunes, but it sure did prompt one of them to stay after class, look me dead in the eye, and apologize for his behavior over the last couple of weeks. It seriously brought tears to my eyes, so I had to quickly kick him out before he could see. Right after that class, I met my British Lit. class. This group consists of several with ACT scores in the high twenties and low thirties. (And since I meet this group immediately after Beginning English, it takes me a few minutes to regroup.) For the most part, they are a very bright group of individuals--a little lazy at times, but it doesn't take them long to figure out that Mrs. Brown doesn't play that game. Anyway, I found out yesterday that we get to go on a field trip in a couple of weeks! We will sojourn to Memphis for the Tennessee Shakespeare Company's production of The Complete Works of Shakespeare, Abridged. Now, I was excited when the opportunity presented itself this week, but I wasn't sure if my students would get into the idea. However, every single one wants to go, even though we're leaving at seven in the morning. (Of course, they want to get out of school for a day, but they really did seem excited about the play.) Then after discussing the field trip, they pretty much kicked ass on their Middle English translation project, and I think they are looking forward to starting Chaucer next week. So it occurred to me that even though my stress levels have gone through the roof a time or two this semester, I'm proud to have a career as rewarding as what I have. God has looked after me all these years and put me where he needs me, even though I fought tooth and nail while in college to not teach. I guess what I realized today is that even though I go through some hard times at work, at least I feel at home. My band director from Ole Miss used to tell us every day in practice, "You motivate me." I can still see his tall lanky self standing over all three hundred of us in that treehouse of a band tower with his hands clasped together taking just a few seconds out of our otherwise busy agenda to tell us that (along with "Bringaponchobringaponchobringaponcho"). Took long enough, but I finally get it.

Whirlwind Fall

I have a love/hate relationship with the fall season. I love it because the air feels slightly (only slightly) cooler, I can put out my Weezy-cat Halloween decorations (that admittedly, I leave up until Christmas because--well, come on--the decorations look like Weezy!), the State Fair comes to Jackson, and of course, Ole Miss and Green Bay Packer football. Of course, I have many other reasons I like the fall, but these just happen to top the list. Fortunately, the good reasons outnumber the bad ones. One thing only keeps me from declaring fall my favorite season: time (read: lack thereof). As Jessi Spano from the critically acclaimed show "Saved By the Bell" so famously proclaimed, "NO TIME! THERE'S NEVER ANY TIME," I feel her pain as I too sometimes feel like popping a few No-Doz from time to time. Last week alone, we attended three--THREE--football games, went to swimming lessons, attended the visitation of a friend's father, and got home by 11:00 p.m. three of those nights. I also encountered some more issues with the writing lab software my online class uses. (In case anyone wonders, I have a hate/strongly hate relationship with that lab software). None of that even includes my day-to-day routine of waking up at 5 a.m. to run, teaching from 8-3:30, helping with the band's colorguard after school until five, or teaching Sunday School on Sunday mornings. Yeah, fall's kind of busy. At this point, someone may wonder, "What about Jude?" Well, from 8-3:30 he plays with his buddies at Ms. Lily's house while Jeffrey and I work. The rest of our activities, however, he comes with us. As it turns out, he loves a football game, mainly because he won't miss an opportunity to become the center of attention, but I've caught him looking down at the field and following the action. He shines in swimming lessons. I've never seen a child love the water so much. Jude even sits in my lap while I work on my online class. Of course, he gets a little perturbed at the glaringly obvious grammatical errors in the papers I grade, so then he gets down and crawls off to play with his bead maze. I guess if I saw Jude looking distressed over the busy-ness of our schedule, I would probably shuffle some things around and give up other things. However, he seems to enjoy going with the flow. I do make sure he has a decent bed time (although I slack on the weekends some), is bathed every night, and eats meals packed with nutrients cooked by moi even if I have to pack them in to-go plates. I do love fall, but I look forward to Thanksgiving when the activities slow down a little. I guess every family has a busy season, and right now, we're at the peak of ours.

A Fine Little Baby

A few weeks ago, I took Jude to one of my favorite Jackson hotspots that I don't get to visit as often as I would like: Lemuria. Lemuria ranks as one of my favorite independent book stores ever (second only to Square Books in Oxford--because Oxford is home and "one never graduates from Ole Miss" don't you know?). I have every intention of building up Jude's personal library with the classics. Our recent visit to Lemuria proved no exception as Jude came away with a T.S. Eliot book of cat poetry. (That's a whole other thread of topic but cats and books really do go well together, don't you think?) While in the checkout line, a new Eudora Welty biography caught my eye. (Aside: I'm at work on my lunch hour right now, and I don't have the title of the book on hand at the moment.) Anyway, I grabbed a copy, purchased it, and began reading as soon as I got home. I love Eudora Welty. Most times,it takes me a few readings before I begin to understand, but I love how she constructs a story. I particularly love the "June Recital" section of The Golden Apples--very coming of age, which is a favorite theme of mine to explore in literature. Needless to say, when I saw this new biography, I couldn't resist. A long time ago, I had read Eudora's One Writer's Beginnings,but one part of it didn't stand out to me until I read this biography that cited it. Eudora had learned that her mother and father had lost a child, a fifteen month old, before she was born. Eudora being a little girl when she found out, her mother simply told her, "He was a fine little baby." Those words--"fine little baby." Those words practically jumped off the page right into me. They were the perfect combination of words to accurately describe Jude. A fine little baby. Those words encompass absolutely everything about him: his smile, his voice, his way of concentrating very deeply on some random object, and so much more. When reading this part of the biography, I also couldn't help but feel for Eudora's mother as she had to find some way to explain to her young daughter that another baby just as loved as Eudora and her younger brothers had once existed. One day I plan to explain to Jude that before him, Jeffrey and I excitedly anticipated the arrival of another baby only to be met with disappointment a few days later. However, my miscarriage is a part of our family's history, a history with which Jude should one day become familiar. I know I won't be able to tell him without coming to pieces, but for Jude to know that about us, means he will know that we had always wanted him. We waited very patiently, and even not so patiently at times, for his existence to simply happen. And look what we got--a fine little baby.

Stardom

Well, the city of Canton is all aglow with excitement this weekend as Hollywood has once again come into town to begin casting for the upcoming filming of "As I Lay Dying" (based on William Faulkner's brilliant work). I knew about this, but imagine my surprise when I came home from work and saw that the casting call was being held TWO DOORS over from my house! Here's a fun fact about Canton. Hollywood loves this place. And who can blame them? It's the epitome of small-town southern America with its glorious courthouse surrounded on all sides by locally owned businesses that shut down by 2:00 on Wednesdays in order to take care of odds and ends around town and at home. If you have seen the movies "My Dog Skip," "A Time To Kill,""Mississippi Burning," or "Oh Brother, Where Art Thou," then you have seen Canton. Beautiful place, huh? And here's an even "funner" fact. If you have seen "My Dog Skip," then you have seen my house. My house served as the home of Dink Jenkins, played by Luke Wilson. Yes, Luke Wilson has been in my house. So have Frankie Muniz, Kevin Bacon, and Diane Lane. Unfortunately, someone else owned the house when all of that excitement took place. Still, how many people can say that their house appeared in a movie? So all of this should explain why Hollywood came to Canton this weekend. I have to admit, despite what my neighbors say, I have hoped really hard that Hollywood would come back and shoot another movie here in my lifetime.My neighbors assure me that when all is said and done, I will be ready for all of those celebrities to go home, but I still want to experience it at least once. Those who know me know my love of William Faulkner novels, so when Clarion Ledger printed up the details of this upcoming event--the filming of "As I Lay Dying," I just knew God had answered my prayers. So of course I showed up to the casting call. The line was long, the day was hot, and people had come from everywhere in hopes of landing a role. I knew without a doubt that I would not be cast as anything. The only female roles in the whole novel belong to Addie,Cora,Kate,Dewey Dell, and the second Mrs. Bundren. I'm too young for Addie and Cora (maybe "Young" doesn't quite cover it-- more like I don't look rode hard and put away wet), and I'm too old for Kate and Dewey Dell (though I really like Dewey Dell in the novel), but I do feel I have a decent shot at the second Mrs. Bundren. (Although, if this film portrays the novel anywhere near accurately, the second Mrs. Bundren wouldn't have a speaking part anyway.) I waited for several hours before getting called up and in the meantime buddied up with a few Ole Miss and Millsaps undergrad fellows who seemed quite taken with the fact that I teach college English courses. Jeffrey assures me that they were hitting on me, but I think these young men just have a thirst for academia and can spot a brilliant mind when they see one. Besides, I have a knack for communicating with this age group and making them feel at ease. Serving undergraduates (though mostly underachieving undergraduates) is my calling, after all! The try-out process was a little uneventful. Once I went inside, I waited some more. Then the casting director told me I looked too young for Addie and Cora and too old for Kate (I guess they've already picked a Dewey Dell). Then I asked about the second Mrs. Bundren. He looked me over and said "I like your look," took my information sheet, and sent me to the photographer for head shots. I don't expect to get called. Thousands of people are auditioning. The best part of the try-out was when I walked out of the door to head home. The first thing I saw were my two favorite people: Jeffrey and Jude. They were just walking up to check on me and happened to catch me at the perfect time. I've always known that I wasn't going to be a movie star, but when the opportunity presents itself in your backyard, you take it anyway. Besides, I can't be a movie star AND mother to a future Olympic gold medalist, AND wife to an up and coming rock star. That just wouldn't be fair to the rest of the world. Perhaps the only famous connection I'll ever have is the roof over my head, and that's pretty darn neat.

Some People...

I've always believed I had a pretty good head on my shoulders thanks in large part to my upbringing. Adulthood has certainly done well for me (although every now and then I feel those pangs of missing my childhood, more specifically, missing those people with whom I shared my childhood). I say this because when I started college, it didn't take me long to figure out what to study (the subject that always held my interest--English). I may not have realized my career path right away, but I kept an open mind, took a few different jobs that allowed me to use my degree, decided on teaching, and went back to school to maximize my knowledge as well as my pay check. Heck, I even got lucky in love! At the tender age of 22, I married a fine gentleman Jeffrey. We've had eight years of a blissful marriage, and I have to tell you, folks, it gets better with every passing year! Guess what? Jeffrey's head sits well on his shoulders too. While I may possess quite a level headed outlook on life, I have one way in which I fall short. I expect everyone else to be the same way. I hold those close to my age and older to the same standard I set for myself. Boy, did I receive some disappointment today! Let's just say, "Shit got real at the swimming pool this afternoon." Jude had his weekly swimming lesson today, and yes, I still see a little Michael Phelps in the making, but I've posted about that before so I won't say anymore about it. Today, Jeffrey went into the water with Jude while I sat and watched from the observation room. Now, getting in the water and swimming around with Jude is a ton of fun, but splashing around in a bathing suit in front of an observation room full of people who love to watch the little babies swim proves a tad awkward for the parent who drew the short straw to get in the water. Oh, but there's much worse. The getting out of the pool, toweling off, and traipsing back through the observation room toward the dressing rooms is positively the cherry atop the already self-esteem boosting half hour. So what do you suppose the parent in such a situation wants first to do? Well, I would think get in the dressing room, out of the damn bathing suit, and into dry clothes as soon as possible, all the while praying no one recognizes him or her. Actually, I can speak for all the moms and dads in our class. One can tell the need to get back into normal clothes by the beeline they make for those dressing rooms at the end of every class. Usually, getting ready to leave goes off without a hitch. Today, however... Jeffrey got out of the pool, handed Jude off to me so I could get him dried off and changed while Jeffrey did his sprint toward the dressing room. Next thing I know, Jeffrey's dressed and whisks me out of the building so fast like he does when he expels really foul gas. Thankfully, the swim school did not have to shut down due to toxic fumes, but what happened instead makes me lose a little faith in humanity. Jeffrey arrived to the dressing rooms and saw two open rooms. Naturally, he proceeded to go in one only to be stopped by some child's mother (an older child who whose lesson was still in session). This mother looks at Jeffrey (who is dripping wet and looking like the drowned rat we all emulate when we've been in the swimming pool) and says, "Oh, that room's been claimed for my daughter and so has that other one." Are you freaking kidding me????? Those kids weren't even done yet, but Jeffrey can't change? Well, anyone who knows Jeffrey knows what happened next. He looked at the woman and casually said, "Oh, ok" and walked in the dressing room and got dressed. Meanwhile, she stood outside the door and banged on it until he got done. Hence why Jeffrey grabbed me and Jude and we flew out the door. I just can't believe someone, an adult, could be so inconsiderate. Here stood another adult, dripping wet, in swim trunks in front of an entire audience, and this woman doesn't have sense to see that maybe, just maybe he might want to quickly get changed? Seriously, what man wishes to be half naked around a bunch of young children? Her actions basically said, "Well, my child is better than you and yours." This swim school is for kids. Seriously, I've never seen so many kids in one setting. It gets a bit chaotic between classes, for sure. I used to think anyone would know that to keep things running smoothly in that place, then wait their turn and get in and out quickly. After Jeffrey got out of the dressing room, that kid still hadn't finished her lesson! Jeffrey hated to be like that, but he also doesn't take kindly to people's crap. I came up with a solution in case this woman shows out again. Next time, Jeffrey will just strip down right in front of her! That'll learn her!