This last summer and early fall have been such a whirlwind!  Between getting ready for school, going to Ireland, and having a massive upheaval in Stewart's life, blogging has been the least of my worries.  But now the snow is falling, my pulse is slowing, and the writing bug is biting (or blogging just seems like more fun than correcting papers!).  So here goes.....

The first snow of the season has me thinking about my one and only adventure in skiing.  Since walking can be a daily challenge for those of us with coordination issues, it is understandable that skiing is an activity that I have chosen to avoid.  I might live in the state with the "Greatest Snow on Earth", but that doesn't mean I get along with it!  However, in a great moment of weakness, I was persuaded to go skiing my sophomore year of college.

Perhaps I should explain what caused me this lapse in judgement.  One of my best friends moved into the apartment just a few feet from mine.  Her roommate, Natalie, had a brother that was ADORABLE - like drool down the chin adorable!  Not only was he cute, he was a ski instructor at a resort in Park City, Utah.  Being the super nice guy that he was, he offered to get Natalie and her friends free ski passes.  Again, under any other circumstance I would have respectfully declined.  However, I was perpetually stupid when he was around, so my judgement was grossly impaired.  Next thing I know, I'm on the side of a mountain with two death sleds strapped to my size 10's!

This would probably be a good time to explain that EVERY person I was with that day was an expert skier.  I don't know if they would agree, but they could stay upright.  That screams expert to me!  They very kindly and patiently helped me to the top of the "kiddie slope" and gave me these instructions:  "Whatever you do...don't let your skis cross!".  Got it!  So off I went.  I don't want to brag, but my skis stayed perfectly parallel...all the way down...to the bottom...and on into the line of people waiting to get their passes...!!!!  CRASH!!!!.  My awesome friends had forgotten to teach me how to stop!  They TRIED to instruct me mid-swooshing that I needed to point the tips at each other to stop, but that seemed contrary to their original instructions!

After patiently showing me how to stop and swishing down the "kiddie slope" with me a few more times, my confidence level was increasing.  I knew they were itching to do some real skiing, so I sent them on their way to do some real runs while I kept practicing.  Apart from the ski class of 5-year-old kids who kept making fun of me (!!!), I began to really believe I could ski - which might explain what happened next.

Just as I was completing another masterful run of 1 mile an hour on a slope of about 2 degrees, "adorable" shows up.  He asks me if I am feeling ready for a real ski run.  Again - judgement impaired.  My brain was screaming, "Not in this lifetime!" but my mouth said "Sure!".  It may have come out more like "Swwalllllphh...." because it's hard to speak and drool at the same time.

*I suddenly feel the need to remind Robby that I love him just a bunch!  Ok - back to the story.*

So there we are - riding a ski lift up to the top of a "real run".  I don't the ins and outs of skiing, but apparently there is a system of colored "diamonds" that let you know how difficult and/or dangerous a run might be.  I don't really understand the system, but I do know this:  I started on a hill with a pretty colored sign that had a bunny on it.  I got off - ok, fell off - the ski run near a sign with a black diamond and a skull and crossbones.  My memory is not great, but I am fairly certain the run was called something like, "I Hope You Said Goodbye to Your Mother" or "Health Insurance is Not for Sissies".  At least that's how I read it. Another fun fact:  This particular hill was mostly made up of something called moguls.  Hmmmmm......

I don't think any of you REALLY need the visual of what came next.  Obviously, I made it down the hill with all of my parts attached, but barely!  Did I impress my ski instructor friend?  No.  No I did not.  Did I anger many, many, many other skiers as a lay sliding down the hill on my face?  Yes.  Yes I did.  Have I ever gone back to try it again.  No.  No I haven't.  What is that saying?  "If you fall off, get right back on that horse."?  In this case, I am a firm believer of just making glue!

I hope you all have a lovely, snugly, hot-chocolaty day!

So....the boy is going to take Driver's Ed this summer, and it has inspired me to reflect on my many experiences with cars.  I have been accused of being a....ummm..."challenged" driver!  Personally, I think the fact that I correct papers at red lights shows how great I am at utilizing every second of the day!  Unfortunately, not everyone shares this feeling!  Regardless, I would like to dedicate these next few posts to Jay.  May you learn from your mother's mistakes and not make the road an even scarier place to be! 

Driving in Cars - Volume 1

I think that part of the reason I sometimes see road signs as "mere suggestions" is because the laws were A LOT more lax when I was a child.  The seventies were all about peace, love, granola, and free range car travel.  I don't even think the cars of my youth had seat belts. Once the car left the garage, we were free to roam about the cabin - and we did!  I lived in Denver until I was 8 years old, but one set of my grandparents lived in Bountiful, Utah and another set in Las Vegas.  Driving from Denver to Vegas can be PAINFUL when you are 5, so my dad would  boost the entertainment value of our road trips.  We had a huge, green van with benches that could easily (?) be unbolted and removed in just a few short hours!  He would take out the benches and load in our play kitchen - table and all.  Those road trips were THE BEST...unless our tea party was upended by a sharp turn!  Now don't get me wrong.  It wasn't that my parents had no regard for safety.  It's just how things were.  Trust me - I believe my current chest size is due to the "arm seat belt" my mom would constantly thrust in front of me whenever she sensed danger! 

I loved going places with my parents, but my dad was especially awesome.  He would constantly do silly things to keep us entertained.  One of these was to honk the car horn.  I don't know why my sisters and I thought it was SO funny when he honked the horn, but we did!  Like "roll on the floor" funny.  Come to think of it, we probably did roll on the floor.  It sort-of lost it's charm, however, that fateful day in '75 when we were a good half hour from home, he honked the horn for giggles, and....it stuck!  THAT was a long ride home, for sure!

Okay - now I have to confess a dark secret from my childhood involving cars.  On occasion, I used to sneak out of bed and watch shows like "Charlie's Angels" or "SWAT".  I think I understand now why my parents put me to bed before they watched these shows, because I might have developed a tiny bit of paranoia.  I can remember a few times when I would be alone with one of my parents, and they would drive somewhere I was unfamiliar with.  I was POSITIVE that I was being kidnapped!  Somehow, the kidnapper had been able to elaborately disguise himself or herself as one of my parents, and now we were off to a secret hide-a-way.  No worries though!  I knew exactly what to do.  Every time it happened, I would just excuse myself, wander to the back of the car, and mouth "Help me!" to the drivers behind us!  Why my parents were never hauled off to jail, I will never know!  I am just glad that it NEVER worked!  Come to think of it - that may be the reason that seat belts began to be installed.  Awwwww...good for me!

Holy cow!  Just for kicks and giggles, I decided to read through my tiny little pile of old blogs.  I had zero recollection that I had already posted the story of my first substitute teaching job back in August.  I guess that makes last Sunday's post about the story of my first substitute teaching job (?!?!?!) a bit redundant!   I swear - I hope they'll know when to put me in the "home".  Sorry for the repeats people! 

In honor of Mother's Day, I thought I would take a minute to blog about the three coolest kids I know. Stewart, James, and Taylor have made every day of the last 19 years and 8 months an adventure!  Most days it is a wonderfully amazing adventure.  However, every now and then.....

The following is a list of 5 embarrassing mom moments (because typing all 3,129 - yes, I have kept track - would give me carpal tunnel).  Enjoy!

5.  While I was teaching music lessons one day, my boys decided to take their little sister out to play.  Since Taylor was only 3, I asked them to keep a close eye on her.  When James came in a little while later in a panic and screaming something about Taylor, I ran like crazy to see if she was okay.  Oh...she was!  James had been so upset he had been unable to communicate the problem to me.  She had decided to kiss the neighbor boy!  By the time I got to her, he was at the controls of her hot-pink Big Wheel and she was hopping on the back.  I can't say for sure, but I think they were heading for Vegas.  Bottom line:  She is the only one of my children who has a height requirement in place before she can kiss another boy.  You know...sort-of a "You must be this tall to ride this ride" kind of rule. 

4. I don't know if this particular story qualifies as embarrassing, but it must be told.  When my oldest was my only child, I worked as a tutor in the evenings.  That gave us all morning to mess around, so we did!  A personal favorite of ours was "Hide and Seek".  I was running a little late for work one day, so I was getting both of us ready in a rush.  When I went to grab the keys, they weren't were I kept them.  I looked around for a few minutes until I heard this tiny little giggle.  Sensing he knew something I didn't (watching those detective shows had really paid off!), I asked him if he knew where my keys were.  After a full minute of hysterical giggling, he said, "I hid them!".  He kept on giggling as I ATTEMPTED to calmly ask him where.  He giggled for about 30 more seconds, and then said (without a giggle!), "Ummmmm....I can't remember."  Suffice it to say, I was an hour late for work that night, there was not much laughter in the land for a few days, and the keys finally showed up in one of my boots....6 months later.....

3. One Christmas season,  I was busy doing something in the kitchen (I can't remember what...but I think we can all assume it wasn't cooking!) while my boys were playing in the living room.  They were about 4 and 8 at the time.  One of them had a balloon, so they invented this game where James would throw the balloon over the railing and Stewart, standing down below, would try to hit it back up.  It must have been much more entertaining than it sounds, because they were laughing like crazy.   In the middle of it all, there was a horrible "thumping" sound followed by James letting out a scream.  Being the fantastic mother that I am, I stayed right where I was and yelled for Stewart to be nice to his brother.  After about 5 minutes, Stewart finally came in the kitchen and suggested that maybe I ought to come take a look.  Low and behold - Jay was bleeding like a stuck pig.  He had slipped on the rug and cut his head open!  I grabbed a couple of towels, slapped them on his head, and started herding them both to the car.  As we were heading to the After-Hours Clinic, Stewart gets all serious and says, "Before we go in there, we need to get our stories straight!"  Note to self:  While watching those detective shows has made me better at solving little children crimes, perhaps I shouldn't have let the child watch them with me.

2. Taylor was an early speaker.  The problem was that she had verbal dyslexia!  I was dad, Rob was mom, James was Stewart, Stewart was James, juice was milk...you get the idea.  One day, while navigating the Walmart jungle, she and I ended up on an aisle alone.  Rare experience at Walmart, right?  I happened to have a tickle in my nose, so I very quietly sneezed.  Taylor, who heard my sneeze since she was sitting in the child's seat, yelled out, "Ewwwwwwww!  Mommy!!!!!! You just pooped!!!!!".  I was quite the popular attraction as people came from the adjoining aisles to find the crazy, poop lady!  Thanks dear!

1. Stewart.  Stewart, Stewart, Stewart.  So MUCH vomit - so little blog space.  If I wasn't deadly afraid that someone might attempt to read this blog while eating, I would devote an entire entry to all the many places and ratings (mild to nuclear) of this child's spewiness!  I think I'll just share the one that was the most publicly embarrassing.  To be clear, I don't mean the ONLY time it happened in public.  I just mean the worst of all the public vomits.  It  happened in Smith's grocery store one day.  It was one of those weeks where you decide to buy for the entire week.  At just about the moment when I piled the last item on the tippy top of the mound in the cart, my darling boy turned around in the child seat and offered a Mt. Vesuvius-sized spew festival.  The short version is that I was given a plastic bag to toss paper towels in as I wiped down EVERY item (not one item was spared - true story) so that the grossly underpaid cashier could take it by the corner, scan it, gag three times, and bag it.  We were not welcome in that store for a few years afterward. 

Despite the above, I LOVE these kids. To all the amazing moms out there who do it ALL with little sleep and no pay, Happy Mother's Day! 

I don't know how it happened, but another school year is in it's final weeks!  Once again, I will be faced with the most unpleasant task of sending another group of kids off to the junior high jungle...never to be seen again!  Actually, that is not entirely true.  I keep a candy bucket by my desk to lure them back every so often.  I realize that probably sounds a little creepy, but it works!  This is usually the point where that teeny tiny rational part of my brain says "stop talking", so I'll move on.  The other thing that happens at this point every year is that I look back over the year and think about whether or not I have done all I could do for my students.  The bad news:  I could have done better.  The good news:  I've come a long way baby!  If you don't believe me, sit back while I share one of my first substitute teaching experiences:

Even though I obtained a degree in Music Education and student taught at a junior high in 1993, I spent my post-graduate days at a Sylvan Learning Center tutoring kids a few at a time.  I LOVED working with the kids there but doing so did not keep my teaching certificate from expiring.  Fast forward a decade to when a fantastical man named Principal Broderick pulled me into his office while I was volunteering at my kids school one day and talked me into getting back into education.  One of the things he recommended I do was sign up to be a substitute teacher.  Sure.  Why not?  How hard could it be?  Insert scary and ominous music here - duh, duh, duh.....

My first chance to substitute came when one of the first grade teachers came down with a horrible flu.  She made it through Monday but decided that she needed to be face-first on the floor for Tuesday.  I was 36 years-old, 5'12", and a good 1&% pounds, so I figured a bunch of shrimpy 6 year-olds would be easy peasy!  Right?  I won't bore you with the ugly details, but let's just say...they won!  BIG TIME!!!

Thursday night rolled around, and she called to say that she wasn't doing any better and needed to take Friday off too.  She was either CLEARLY medicated or hadn't heard how Tuesday had gone, because she actually invited me back.  That night I began scheming and plotting.  I would win round 2!  I would be victorious!  The next day I showed up armed with a bag of Pixie Stix (thus the birth of the candy bucket).  While candy can be quite a positive motivator (you wouldn't believe how many of my kids I would sell for a Reeses), I am ashamed to admit that I used it for evil.  I put two Pixie Stix in each of their "pockets" on the discipline chart.  I warned them that if they crossed me, I would NOT scream.  I would NOT yell.  I would NOT make my head spin around like that poor, unfortunate Excorcist girl.  I would simply take one of their candies, rip off the top,and laugh maniacally while I downed it!  Before you call my principal, there are two things you should know.  1. That was the maiden voyage AND the sinking of that tactic. I have not tried to use it again. 2. I didn't end up scarring any little darlings for life because it TOTALLY WORKED!!!  There was a volunteer coming to teach a little business mini-lesson that morning, and had those kids sitting quiet as church mice leafing through books when he walked in.  It was amazing!  I was fairly certain that he would be so impressed that I would be receiving some sort of "Substitute Teacher Medal of Valor" award - that's how good they were being...except for that one kid.  Just as the volunteer walked in, this little boy jumped out of his chair, nailed a three-rotation somersault, stuck the landing, and threw both arms in the air with a loud, "Tada!".  WHAT???????  While the volunteer set up his lesson on a table near the window, I very calmly invited this young man to join me on the ramp - just outside the window.  Once the door was closed, I knelt down next to this young man, got my pointer finger within a quarter-inch of his nose, and basically told him there was a new sheriff in town.  I knew this volunteer could see me, but surely he would understand.  When I thought this child and I had reached an "understanding", we headed back in.  Once inside the door, he turned to the volunteer and said the worst thing imaginable.  Can you guess?  Can you?  Can you??????  He said......., "Sorry dad!". 

So again, as I wrap up another school year with another amazing group of kids, I apologize for my failings.   However, I think I can at least end the year without the need to say sorry to any of my moms and dads!  Merry end of school year to you all, and to all a good night!

First, I apologize for going crazy with this blog thing and then fizzling out.  I LOVE my job, but teaching tends to take over my life.  Add to that getting my son out the door to Guatemala and then crying on the floor of my closet in the fetal position for 5 months, and I have bombed at blogging.  A good friend of mine called me out on that fact last week, so I've crawled out of the closet and am typing with great ferociousness! (P.S. - Thanks Nathalie!)

So...my middle child will be turning the big 1-6 this week!  My adorable 6'4" "little boy" blew my mind a week ago.  He announced that all he wanted for his birthday was to see the Utah Symphony perform Gershwin's "An American in Paris".  Given the fact my son is positive that he was plopped on this earth 100 years too late, I shouldn't have been surprised.  He would have been a Glenn Miller groupie for sure!!!!  Anyway, I conceded and we attended the symphony together this past Friday night.  As I listened to the amazing skill of the musicians, I got thinking about my few opportunities to be on stage.  There is nothing like the thrill of being part of a group of people making good music and listening to an audience respond with applause.  Unfortunately, as is my way, I managed to beg for all of the attention to be on me by doing something incredibly "Amy-ish" on a few occasions.  I give you now the top 5 performance debacles of my youth.  Enjoy!

5. The "Great-Music-Stand-Light-Battery-Blow-Up" of 1999 -

I was lucky enough to do a brief stint with the Murray City Symphony.  Every year, they would host a sing-a-long of Handel's "Messiah" at Christmastime.  During an especially moving part of the piece, one of the batteries in my stand light exploded and blew the cover off.  It was loud, of course, but not as loud as the scream that I let out.  It was one of the first signs that my caffeine intake might be too high.

4. The "I-Will-Not-Sing-of-Such-Filth" Kindergarten Program of 1976 -

Yeah...I may have misunderstood Miss Driscol, my kindergarten teacher.  When she taught us the lyrics to "Home on the Range" in preparation for a big show we would be putting on for the parents, I thought she said "Seldom has heard a discouraging word".  I naturally (???) assumed that Seldom was an uptight lady with a severely tight hair bun who did all of the cooking for the foul-mouthed cowboys.  On principle, I refused to sing the song.  I mean I still rode the stick pony around on stage because that's just too cool, but my lips were sealed!

3. The "Is-That-My-Lung-on-the-Floor?" incident of 1987 -

Again with the "Messiah"!  My high school decided to combine the orchestra and choir and perform parts of the music for a Christmas concert.  The only way to fit everyone on stage at the same time was to lower the pit about a foot and put the orchestra in it.  I had been fighting a cold and lost during the concert.  I started coughing so profoundly that I had to crawl out of the pit in my skirt in front of the whole audience and slink away to a drinking fountain.  Guess what...that's not the embarrassing part!  After the performance, I was trying to avoid talking about what had happened, so I distracted my family by pointing out - very discreetly - the boy I had a crush on.  He was talking to his family about 15 feet away, so I tried to speak in a whisper.  My lovely grandma, however, decided he had a nice "posterior end" and expressed that feeling in not so much a whisper!  Given the fact that she was still using a Tom Selleck calendar up until the end of her days, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised.

2. The "Where-Did-She-Go?" Dance Recital of 1984 -

Ah, dance recitals.  Bless my parents for attempting to help me learn how to coordinate the gangly limbs attached to this 5'12" frame.  However, it was all in vain.  The crowning moment of my dance career was when I was part of a dance set to a pretty rockin' version of "Yankee Doodle Dandy".  For the big finish, the dancers and I formed a huge circle and did this slide thingy around and around in the circle.  As I came around to the front of the stage, I slid so spectacularly that I slid right off of the stage.  It was the spats, I tell you!  If you every want to see the video footage with my dad's commentary ("Where is she?  Where did she go???), just ask.  I'll say no, but ask....

1. The"Did-That-Really-Just-Happen?" Armageddon of 1986 (With a follow up "oops" in 1987) -

So it was my first time on "tour" with the Granite Youth Symphony.  For those who don't know, it is a symphony made up of kids from the various high schools of the district I was in.  Each summer, we would have early morning rehearsals for about 3 weeks and then take the show on the road.  That particular summer we were touring from Utah to St. Louis and back.  Along for the ride was a guest vocal soloist who was singing a medley of show tunes.  In the middle of one of the concerts, the soloist went in for a long and super high note.  The whole room held their breath as she held on to that note for 3 days (give or take a few hours).  The only thing that could have broken the magic of that moment was, well...me!  Out of nowhere, my bridge just exploded into a thousand little pieces.  If you don't know, the bridge is the little wooden piece that holds the strings up.  People were weaving back and forth as they were pelted by little pieces of bridge carnage!  Strings went flying in all directions!  The soloist squealed with shock!  Mothers were throwing themselves on their children to shield them from the nightmare!  Okay..I might have added that last one for effect.  I THOUGHT that nothing worse could ever happen during a performance until a year later when I dropped my bow and it landed in the lap of a guy on the front row.  Sigh.....

And there you have it.  I hope you all have a fantastical Monday!

-Amy

I suffer from "Whereus Did I Putus That Disease".  That's Latin for, "Oh man!  I can't find my keys!". Don't bother looking it up in any medical dictionary.  Just trust me when I tell you that it is real, and I have a full-blown case!  How do I know?  Let me explain....

Saturday was grocery shopping day.  As is my routine, I grabbed a cart and put my wallet and keys in the "baby seat".  After my son and I grabbed what we needed, we headed for the check-out stand.  The lovely lady bagging our groceries had an empty cart ready to go, so she loaded our groceries in that as she bagged them.  I paid, we all wished each other a good day, and my son and I headed out to the car.  That's when I realized my keys were still in the baby seat of our original cart.  No worries, right?  Just go back in and get them.  Uh yeah...it was Saturday.  In the few short minutes that we had put the cart away, about 1,348 people had come into the store and taken a cart.  Did I mention that I also suffer from "Exaggerateous Oftenus Syndrome"?  Anyway, short story made far too long....I got to meet a whole bunch of new people as I violated their privacy by rummaging through their carts.  Good news - I found the keys!  Bad news - my picture now hangs at the front of the store.  I let you work out why.....

This got me thinking of all of the other items I have misplaced over the years.  While there are far too many items for me to bother the world at large with, I thought I'd use this blog as a sort-of "MISSING" poster for some of the bigger items.  Please let me know if you find any of the following:

LOST: Tears for Fears tickets in 1987.  Last seen: In a super safe place so I wouldn't lose them.  I'm still looking.....

LOST:  Retainer.  Last seen:  On my tray at a McDonalds in Kansas in 1986.  If found....ummmmm...go ahead and keep it.

LOST:  Hubcaps to a Hyundai Excel.  Last seen:  Flying across State Street when I hit a really big pothole going a teensy, weensy bit too fast.

LOST: My wallet.  Last seen: In my daughters hands as I asked her to carry it while I carried the shelving unit I wanted to buy in 2004.  When we got to the register, I asked my darling then 3-year-old to hand it to me.  Looking fairly bored, she told me that it was too heavy (NOT from an excess of money!!) so she put it in someone's cart.  If you are that someone, I just want my Subway points card back.....

Hold on to your shorts, and have a great day!