She’s Five

My little buddy, Mary Michael Patterson, turned five today.  She summed it up nicely.  “It uses up a whole hand, Nana!”  She flashed the five fingers at me and grinned.  I knew exactly what she meant.

Life for Mary Michael is pretty simple.  A great book at night, riding her bike, playing in water-- it’s good.  She’s a strawberry-eating little girl.  Mary Michael’s kind, thoughtful, and she wants to please.  She watches others carefully and frankly, that little girl doesn’t miss a beat.  I bet she’ll learn to read upside down like her Nana did so she can keep track of what’s going on in the world of adults.

To my sweet girl as you begin your second hand:

Mary Michael, school starts this fall and you’re going to be meeting lots of new folks.  You’ll see the world through other’s eyes and I promise you, it’s a big adventure.  Honey, go places, do things, and help others.  By helping others, you’ll be helping yourself the most.  Use those values your parents have instilled in you.  Laugh with others!  Celebrate the good!

Remember, you want to leave the world a better place than how you have found it.  Do your homework.  Put your name on the top of your paper.  Color outside the lines occasionally.  AND don’t believe everything that people tell you.

(Nana will tell you about the Flim Flam Man when you’re a little older.)

You’re the apple of your Nana’s eye.

Love you,  miss you, Nana

Everyday is the First Day

Let's all try and put square pegs into round holes.

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AND let's keep doing this over and over and over.

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I have figured something out about myself.

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When God was passing out the table settling gene, He giggled and gave me the "sense to know that I don’t know squat about tablescaping” gene.  Tablescaping is what people do when they pretty up a table for a party.  My friends say, “Just go out in  your yard and cut some greenery...it will be lovely”  or the one year my sister-in-law, Janie, handed me cumquats to decorate the Thanksgiving turkey.  The cumquats were quickly taken from my hands by those who know my limitations.

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I just don’t get it.  The height, the colors, the theme....I cook.....I eat.....I don’t get the beautification part.  I’m as lost as last year’s Easter egg.  I might order a centerpiece.  I might put on a tablecloth.   I might put out the salt and pepper shakers, but let it be known, Martha Stewart has nothing to worry about.

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However,  I keep trying.  Today might be the day, because everyday is the first day of the rest of my life.

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ps...I was going to put a picture of the swan on the back porch table.  It was too embarrassing.  I had put a mosquito candle in the place where the bouquet of flowers are supposed to occupy.  Function over form!

The Hardest Week of the Year

I started my gig in the realm of “education” in 1973.  If I knew then, what I know now, I might not have gray hair.

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Everybody thinks they could teach school.  I’m not so sure.  On a good day, it is wonderful.  On a bad day, well, let’s say, it gives a person something more to pray about.  

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One day, this dad was sitting across from me (ripping me and my teachers a new one) about my inept ability to run a school.  It seemed that he would let his son off in the front of the school and, surprise, surprise (read that in a Gomer Pyle voice) his dear little boy was sneaking right out the back door and not going to class.  I have a lot of patience (or maybe a whole bunch of I don’t care) when I looked at him and asked, “Well, can you control your son?”  

“Why no,  I can’t,” he stated. “That’s what you’re supposed to do.” 

“I rest my case.  I have 1,100 teenagers here.  It’s spring.  They’re frisky." 

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I got pepper sprayed during the last week of school.  

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There are stories behind every story.  Some of it is not your business.

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The week before graduation, almost every high school principal hears some variation of  how Grandma got a ticket from Michigan, Montana, or Mongolia and couldn’t we just let the little darling grandchild walk across the stage and pretend to graduate?  SMH.  I don’t think so.  I really don’t think so.  

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Teachers and principals DON’T want students to fail.  But, I respect students enough to give them the grade they earn.  I am telling you that teachers usually don’t delight in writing down an F on a report card.  If I had a $1.00 for every student who asked me and wanted to turn in late work....I’d own an island off the coast of South Carolina.

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Late work-- to some teachers, it's according to the BOE policy.  Late work-- to some students, it’s according to the decade.  

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I heard tell of a teacher who refused to accept any late work.  One of his students had a sibling die.  The paper was late.  That teacher wouldn’t take it.

That same teacher called and wanted his own child’s work to be accepted late because he had been on a ski trip back in January with his church....it was May.  It wasn’t accepted.

Karma is a bitch, isn’t it?

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Teaching is not like playing work up.  Everyone just doesn’t progress at the same rate.  I’ve seen first year teachers who have a “with-it-ness” on the first day when they walk in the door.  I’ve also seen twenty year “veterans” who aren’t sure of themselves, their subject, their duties beyond the classroom or their aura of “duh.”  They reached their expiration date but they just don’t know it.

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My thoughts about testing would fill a Carnegie Library.

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I can truthfully say that retirement is sweet.  I saw a parent of two former students of mine at the grocery store today.  I loved hearing about their successes.  To everything there is a season....and this is the season for someone else.

Say Cheese! PLEASE!

This blog isn’t about me.  This is about you.  I love looking at your digital representations of reality--whip out that cell phone, fluff  your hair, suck in your stomach and take a selfie

AND

I’m not too proud to say-- I love seeing the pictures of your life.  Think of me as the grandma that is so, so proud of her kids....nothing better! 

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I like watching your families.....the hopes, the dreams, the aspirations, the frustrations, the successes, the challenges.  I’m your audience.  The old pictures of people I don’t know, the places I’ve never been, the weather you’re having-- it is fascinating.  I read your cut-lines, laugh at your cartoons, and  wish I had written your e-cards.  I giggle at your jokes, enjoy your smiles, and tenderly think of all of you.

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The month of May is my  “Black Friday" for photos.  The graduations, birthdays, Mother’s Day, summer vacations, "decorating of the graves", bad weather, good weather, flowers, gardens, ball games, honors’ nights....I’m there.  Your cars, your children, your children’s children, my grandchildren, your activities, the pets, the lonely pets, your meals.....get my drift?  I like looking.

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This past week, I was relishing the pictures of a young man who got me off the sofa after Mike died...”My momma says I can get a ice cream cone if I can get you out of the house.” I was sad, but I wasn’t mean.  Yep, I got right up and went with him.  That was 11+ years ago.... Jason is going to the Air Force Academy.....but the other day, he was just starting to learn to read.  Where does the time go?  The pictures prove that time passes.

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Be it attending prom (the dresses today are just so pretty), having a new babies, hiking a trail in Norway, creating yummy cookies that are works of art, designing new gardens, loving old dogs, celebrating-(I have my “first” veterinarian!), I’m there right beside you.   Marriages, reorganization of life (one friend said that was a fancy way to say divorce), catching fish, dancing, attending things--concerts, Georgia Football, Lacrosse....there’s not enough time to mention everything enjoyable 'cause I like it all.

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AND, please,  keep those pictures coming!

Fight Club or Nah, That Ain't Going to Happen

Why would anyone want to physically fight?  You'd muss up your clothes, ruin your hair, and potentially damage a nail.

I guess I have never felt the angst to wail on another person.

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After watching the highlights of last night's fight.....no way would I want someone hitting me.  No way would I want someone wailing on me!

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TRUE STORY:

I was the head principal at Central.  I had an angry parent who was half my age and twice my size. She wanted me (?) to physically fight her in the front hall.

I turned her down quicker than you can say, "Oh, look, Dr. Weaver got her A^^ beat!"

Two hours later I received a call from the downtown Central Office of the Bibb County School system.  That same parent had called one of my many bosses and said that I was uncooperative.  Wah Wah Wah

I told my boss that indeed, the parent was partially right. I had been uncooperative.  I refused to fight her in the front hall.  I then stated that I had no chance of winning and thought professionally it would be black mark on my personal resume.

I received an very nice apology from my supervisor at that time.

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TRUE STORY:

Page 2

One year later, the same parent was arrested, charged, and found guilty of stabbing a person to death with a coat hanger.  I clipped the article from the newspaper.  I laminated the said article.  AND then I sent it to my supervisor with a sweet note.  "See, I told you I wouldn't have won."

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It was fun to hear the excitement about last night's fight though.

Going Quackers

I lead a normal life.

I try to follow all traffic rules.  I work at keeping the Ten Commandments.  I try to treat others as I want to be treated.  I think I want the life of June Cleever or maybe the Momma from the Waltons.  No such luck!

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I am having a quiet afternoon.......AFTER HAVING THE CRAZIEST MORNING I'VE HAD IN A LONG, LONG TIME!

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As a retired Nana, I was visiting Molly, Mary Michael, and Sally on this rainy Wednesday morning.  Molly went upstairs to take a shower and Sally and I were reading a book.  Mary Michael was watching Willie Wonka in the living room....Sally and I were curled up with Charlie, the brave Golden Retriever, in the kitchen in front of the big kitchen fireplace.

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Sally and I were talking about a picture that had a lake with three ducks swimming on it.

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"Wouldn't it be fun to have a pet duck in the house?" I innocently asked her.

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Within minutes I heard something falling down the chimney....a thud, thud, thud, thud, thud and something big came out  of the chimney within four feet of Sally and me.  Charlie jumped up, started  barking and chased it.  I was not making eye contact with whatever it was. (Even in times of emergency I thought about National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation when Snots chases the squirrel through the house.)  I threw Sally over my shoulder, grabbed Mary Michael with my free hand as we raced through the living room and fled for the second floor.  It was just like a tornado or fire drill...the reptilian part of my brain kicked in and I was getting the heck out of Dodge!   And I was taking my two bundles of responsibility with me.

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We charged into the master bedroom....I shut the door and secured the premises with an afghan blocking any entry under the door.  The three of us stood outside of the bathroom door and shouted at Molly.,.,...."There's a squirrel in the house.  Mommamamamamamamma. I am not going downstairs.  Help us all. Something fell out of the chimney.  "  We were a cacophony of crazy.  Then Charlie started barking at the bedroom door.  He didn't want to be left with the thing either.

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I don't do "things" in the house.  FYI

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We called Brad who was at work.  A simple plan was formulated.  We were to do something.

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Molly crept out of the bedroom door and peaked over the railing to the foyer.  "It's a big bird.  I see feathers."  (It's a bald eagle, I thought. Turkey vulture.  Condor.  Great horned owl. ) She came back.

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Molly went over to the window.  "It's too high, I can't jump out."   We looked at each other and howled with laughter.  Hey, welcome to our family.  If crap is happening and you don't know what to do....laugh.  "Okay, I'll sneak downstairs.  Open the door.  Go over to Mr. Lee's and hope that he's home.  He's a competitive hunter.  He can help." Molly left with Charlie right behind her.---down the stairs, out the front door--right into the pouring rain.   Mary Michael, Sally and I once again barricaded ourselves in the bedroom. "Good luck, Honey." I shouted through the closed door to the sounds of Molly's footsteps.

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Sally started to tell me about Mr. Lee's lawnmower.

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Within minutes Mr. Lee arrived with a net and captured the thing.  It was a female duck.  It was a hen.  Have you ever heard about a duck falling down a chimney?  I thought not.   We have adventures on Wednesdays.

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Time Hop is one of my favorite applications on my telephone.  One year ago today, I was in Boston Common-- riding on the mother duck from Make Way for Ducklings.    You're right-- I can't make this stuff up.  I am going quackers....and I am enjoying the trip.  

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen or Anyone Else for that Matter

I was talking with Molly about the sleeping habits of the family the other day when our kids were young.  We weren't a real "regular" sort of group.  At anytime,  you could find one of us wandering like a nomad.  Seriously, 811 Winchester Circle had someone awake 24 hours per day most of the thirty years we lived there.  Bill would work late, I'd work early.....a child would be hungry....a dog would want out.  A cat fight would be going on in the bushes....Mike and I would be watching the Waltons in the middle of the night.  It was a house of expandable bedtimes.

At one point in our life, I nicknamed us the Wandering Weavers.

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My hee-bee-gee-bee's used to come regularly at about 2:00 a.m.  You might say that this is when I get the yips of life.

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In the middle of the night, my mind would race....foolish, foolish races!  Like a blast from the past, this week I woke up thinking about Mary Michael taking these "Milestone" tests.  FYI....she's not even in kindergarten.  Then, I wondered who would ask her to prom....or if she would ask someone.   Then I wondered if there would even be such things as prom....I hadn't been up in the middle of the night for a long, long time.  I don't want to start these crazy nights again...but this one journey into my mid-night ramblings brought back tons of memories.

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One night I thought about an employee of Bill's from another life .  We lived in another state at the time.  She woke up in the middle of the night and had to go to the bathroom.  She went in and my gosh....there was a big snake in the toilet bowl.  No lie!  I don't remember what she did.--why don't I remember what she did when she found the big snake?   Flash forward 35 years.  I got to thinking, could snakes crawl up and get in our toilet bowl?  Then I had to go to the bathroom.  Then I thought, what am I going to do if there's a snake in the toilet?  Then I thought, then I thought, then I thought....

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I have thought about tornadoes.  Tomatoes.  Money.  Toledo, Iowa.  Tortellini.  Italy.  Venice.  Water.  The creek.  Molly. Mike. Dan. Bill.  All of the other family members.  Bushes.  My childhood friends.  Their families.   State Center.  Work.  AND if the milk is sour.  You name it...I've probably had a worry about it.  Teenagers.  Murder trials.  Broken hearts.  Broken promises.

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"Turn it off!"  Easier said than done in the wee small hours of the morning.

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My mother's mother used to say to not waste time worrying about things you can do nothing about.  AND if you were worried about something you can change, you better change it.

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I'm fortunate.  My molehills aren't mountains right now.  I have been exercising more.  Eating better and therefore, sleeping better.  I'm trying to change those things I can change.  I love my family and friends.  "Good night, John Boy!"