The Universe Aligns

Doesn’t it feel some days like everything is so much harder than it should be?  You know, those parking-ticket-late-fee-out-of-coffee kinds of times?  On the other hand, sometimes the universe aligns and it’s smooth sail’en.  I love when things just come together perfectly, and this semester is looking that way for me.  Kismet!

My new class from CU online is Young Adult Literature.  So, sure, I’m a high school English teacher, and I spend my days pulling, encouraging, coaxing, dragging kids through books.  (Whew.  I need a drink just thinking about it.) But, those are the classics, and while I love ‘em, it’s hard to convince a sixteen year old that Grapes of Wrath is more fun than making out in the halls or texting until his/her fingers fall off.  Actually, I do have to admit that going to second base is way more fun than Grapes of Wrath – sorry, John Steinbeck.  This is where my new class comes in to save the day – Dum da dum!

Before I even knew I was taking this course I gave myself a goal: bring in as much modern literature to my students as I can.  I want to balance out the classics with new, fresh stuff.  This is easier said than done.  I have exactly one trillion hours of work that have gone into compiling a year’s worth of lesson plans.  To detour from them means not just more work, but going into the unknown without resources.  Aha!  When I went to register, the cosmic forces worked to fill up every class required for my program except Young Adult Literature.  Is the hair on the back of your neck standing up, too?  Freaky.

My CU course is going to guide me through and give me the support I need.  I have an entire textbook that covers the newest works in the world of adolescent lit, as well an awesome professor and a group of kick-butt classmates to call upon for ideas and suggestions.  This is what grad. school should be – rich learning experiences that make you better at what you are already doing.  My Universe has aligned.

Now, all I need is a cleaning service to be sent to my house by mistake and someone to nominate me for What Not to Wear. That’s all.  Come on, cosmic forces!  Give a girl a break!

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It gives a lovely light.

I might be a dweeb, but I get so pumped about the start of a new semester.   The crisp, unopened novels,  sharp #2 pencils – such promise.    This week a new CU Denver textbook was delivered to my house, and 120 new high school students were delivered to my classroom.  Somehow, I don’t think the kids shared my enthusiasm for the upcoming school year and its vast possibilities.  Still, nothing could bridle my excitement as I skipped around the room in a fall sweater handing out my syllabus.  New beginnings are just good for the soul.

My fresh start went something like this:

Monday:  This is my year.  I am getting my act together.  First off, my days (ok, years) of procrastination are over.  Also gone are the six-cups-of-coffee mornings as I vow to go to bed at a reasonable time.  Oh, and I must cut down on unnecessary t.v. and hobbies to devote more time to important things like  grading and exercise.  Speaking of that – goodbye carbs.  I will be unstoppable!  The best semester EVER!

Tuesday:  Wait, does the new season of Project Runway start this week?   I suppose I can stay up late for that one.  Umm, does beer have carbs?  Some carbs aren’t bad, right?  What?  There is birthday cake in the teacher’s lounge?  With blue frosting, you say?  Save me a corner piece.  Hey, who wants to take a Zen-Basket Weaving-Bingo class on Wednesday nights?

Still standing by the statement that there’s nothing like a new school year to give a much needed a clean slate,  I’ve come to the realization that while I attempt order, my world might always be just a little more messy and hedonistic than most.  Perhaps it isn’t necessary to meet all goals at once.  After all, a new semester starts in four and a half months; I can’t wait to kick its butt.

I leave you with one of my favorite poems by Edna St. Vincent Millay.

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—
It gives a lovely light.

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God Bless You, Elmo

Wow.  My toddler just gave herself a ketchup shampoo.  Yep, a ketchup shampoo.  I served her a nice, wholesome lunch and then turned to empty the dishwasher.  When I looked back two minutes later I found that she had fed her entire plate to the opportunist mutt seated below her chair and then used the ketchup intended for her veggie burger as some kind of deep conditioning treatment.  I didn’t mind stopping everything to give her an impromptu bath (as there was peanut butter behind her ears from yesterday anyways) but the vision of her going to town with the condiments resonated something with me.  Stop the presses!  Hold onto your hat!  I maybe, possibly, hypothetically, sort of, there’s a good chance… I’m not in control at all.

I bought a book a few weeks ago called  I Was a Really Great Mom Before I Had Kids. Isn’t that the most amazing title you’ve ever read?  If not, you either don’t have kids yet or you are Carol Brady.  Get out of my blog, Carol Brady, and stop judging me!  Now, I have yet to read this book, but as soon as I get the gummy popsicle stick out of the dog’s fur, and fish my bracelet from the toilet, I plan on starting.  Oh, just even the title speaks to my soul.

I knew just what kind of mom I was going to be.  I envisioned myself as this totally organic food cooking, Earth mother who never yelled, never looked frazzled, got the kids to love veggies, and favored crafts and sing-alongs over that devil box called television.  Why was I always wearing a tunic and beads in that daydream?  Does anyone else hear Cat Stevens?

Well, parenting is a bazillion times harder than I thought, but I adore my baby girl and always do my best.  Sometimes my best happens to be popping in an hour of Elmo and giving her a bowl full of Cheetos.  But, hey now, sometimes I AM that Earth Mother who gets her to love cauliflower and teaches her to listen to the birds in the backyard.  A lot more than sometimes I get it right, and I’m really proud of that.  I would not trade this chaos for anything – even an orderly life and my skinny jeans back.

I tried to think of that as I got her out of the tub and gave her a slice of leftover pizza.

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