Saturday

A beautiful, cold Saturday. The sun is shining. I'm still sick, but I think I could be getting better. S. and C. went to get a donut. Or is it doughnut? I'm not sure anymore. Many words I thought I was spelling correctly seem to have been shortened, truncated. Strange. I think I'm behind the times.

I am waiting (impatiently) for Thanksgiving break. We still have 2.5 days of school to go. It has been frustrating getting to here. And I imagine that by the time Wednesday 12:01 pm hits, I will be burning rubber out of the parking lot of school. I love my job. Despite being scratched this week by a student. Despite trying to teach first graders to outline a story - and failing with one group, but having success with another. I want too much, I think. I want all our kiddos to be safe, and warm. I want someone at home to pick up a book and read to them. The bad part is knowing that these things won't happen for some of them.

My own girl is growing so fast. She is so tall and beautiful. Graceful. I cannot believe she is my daughter. She is very funny lately. Stories. New words. A little bossy. Forgoing cartoons to dance around her room to sounds coming from her boom-box. Painting her nails, picking out clothes. She is still little though. She loves to cuddle. Still wants to play games of Monopoly or Uno. I find her in the back yard terrorizing the dog. Or making up little stories for her beloved My Little Ponies. Still, those ponies make it out of their box less and less. And more and more, I walk into the bathroom to find cotton balls saturated in remover with traces of nail polish that didn't quite make the cut. I remember my girl at three years old, and I wonder where the days have gone. Beat myself up for not spending every single moment so I didn't miss a single moment. She is my heart. She scares me. I want every good thing for her, but realize that there is a lot of treacherous real estate to cover between here and when she is grown. She seems to be a good girl. And I just try to be honest with her. Am I spoiling her if I tell her she is beautiful and smart every day? Some experts say not to. But I don't want her to go a day without knowing she is both of those things. And kind. She is kind. I imagine she has her peer-pressured stinker moments, too. But we talk about the "outsider" kids and we discuss little ways she could use that beauty and those brains to help someone who is having a bad day. When she tells me she invited a shy girl to play on the playground yesterday, I breathe a sigh of relief. She will not make the same mistakes I did, she will take a stand, and in her own way, make someone's day better.

The days are cold. Home is warm. And I miss my sisters. I spent a very long time on the phone with my sister, A. yesterday. It was wonderful. She's probably thinking I have some disease of the tonsils. We talked, talked, talked. Family is a hard thing. So many hurts, so many experiences. Good and bad. "To discuss and cuss", I once read in a book. Makes my heart hurt that we aren't 10 years old and all snuggled in the same room on Christmas Eve. That is an everlasting memory. I want to put on a coat and call my sisters and go to a craft show. Wander around and laugh at pot holders, sipping hot cider. Sisters are the friends you don't have to hide anything from. They know the back story. You don't have to spend hours explaining, or hiding anything. They just know.

Just some thoughts, you know, from a Saturday.