On Thankfulness in a Garbage Year

Like most Americans, I grew up being asked what I was thankful for at this time of year. In 2018, I'm finding myself struggling over how I'll answer that question when I'm inevitably asked. I know the "right" answers: my health, my home, my family. and of course I'm thankful for those things, but I also feel like all of those things have fallen spectacularly to pieces this year, so I'm struggling to make that thankfulness feel sincere.

What do you say you're thankful for when everything has gone to crap? I'm not an inspirational suffering person like Job in the Bible or the people in feel-good stories on The Today Show, and in the grand scheme of how brutal life can get, I haven't suffered that much. Still, when I try to think about thankfulness, my mind and soul go immediately to bitterness and sarcasm. What am I thankful for? People who help you make decisions about dog euthanasia? Antidepressants? Credit cards? Meeting my health insurance deductible twice in the span of three months? Not having to juggle time with in-laws during the holidays? Not having to go further into debt to buy Christmas presents for children? I really am thankful for those things; I just don't feel like I can say any of them around the Thanksgiving dinner table.

After some rage-vacuuming and a long rainy walk, I've come up with a modest list of things I'm sincerely thankful for. It involved reaching, at times, deeply into the past and hopefully into the future, which I guess may be the answer when you can't say anything too gracious about the present. I'll share it for anyone who's feeling similarly downtrodden, apathetic, or cynical during this festive season of the year:

-I'm thankful for a mom who taught me to love plants and animals and who taught me all the things people who love plants and animals do.

-I'm thankful for a dad who used used his lunch break from January to June to drive to my house and feed Max the Dog lunch, who mowed my lawn all summer and fall, and who drops everything in his busy life to help me any time I need it.

-I'm deeply grateful that both of my parents came with me to say goodbye to my boys. I do most things alone and take great pride in that, but I'm so glad I didn't have to do that alone.

-I'm thankful for friends who stay your friends when you're catatonic for two months, who make an effort to get people together, and who live far away but make sure we stay in touch.

-I'm thankful for nephews who like to throw rocks and nephews who have yet to be born.

-I'm thankful that I grew up in a house full of siblings, and that soon, we'll be able to be together in our family's very own fixed up, post-flood home.

-I'm thankful for cousins who dropped food on my doorstep twice this summer when they knew I wouldn't feel like making the effort to feed myself.

-I'm thankful that I said yes to trying some new things at a new job this year, allowing me to become "Coach Clegg" to an incredible group of girls and to work one-on-one with some other awesome students during two periods of the day.

-I'm thankful that when I was 21, I said yes to a puppy named Elvis, and that when I was 26, I said yes again to a puppy named BJ.

-I'm thankful that I bought them a house with a yard, however modest and falling-apart it may be now.

-I'm thankful for the appliances in that house that still work, and for the ones that are able to be repaired for under $1000.

-I'm thankful that I kept my 2008 promise to Max that he would never spend another holiday in a kennel. That promise brought me home to some of my beloved family members in their final years, close to my cousins, parents, and siblings (for a little while), and into the paths of many treasured friends I've met since then.

-I'm thankful that Joni at least still acknowledges me at mealtimes and at bedtime, and I'm thankful that she finally got her poor little teeth worked on.

-Finally, I'm thankful for this worn spot on my once-nice couch, the brown faded to tan by years of nervous licking, the more offensive toenail gouges covered by classy strips of brown duct tape, and I'm thankful for this mischievous black puppy who showed up to fill it when it was emptied far too soon. I'm thankful for the perspective, hard-won through trauma and grief, that allows me to love and enjoy him in all his moments of foolishness.

Happy Thanksgiving- no matter where you are or what you have to be thankful for, even if it's simply the knowledge that good times eventually follow the bad ones.

Things I Appreciate About Being A Teacher

     I've contemplated resurrecting this blog for a while, thinking that a little therapeutic writing would a) be cheaper than therapy and b) get me some of the online attention I so desperately crave. Then I read a list of all the "great deals" available to teachers during teacher appreciation week, such as 15% off discounts at stores I can't afford when they're 50% off. This stung a little extra since, at the age of 33, I work two jobs six days a week in order to live paycheck to paycheck, and most of the "vacations" I take involve riding in the back seat of my parents' Honda Pilot like an eight-year-old.

     I ditched the list of generous teacher offers pretty quickly and took a long walk, on which I rage-wrote in my head an epic blog post detailing the things teachers really want (namely a living wage) and culminating in the question most people don't know I've been pondering all year: since I do not make enough money to live comfortably as a single adult, do I walk away from a job that I absolutely love? Should I sell myself in marriage so that I can whittle my work week down to five days? Should I sell my house and move back in with my parents so that I can continue to hang out with thirteen-year-olds all day, imparting valuable lessons ranging from "how to analyze a metaphor" to "why you need to learn to hold in your farts "?

    Unfortunately, no one would want to read that bitter diatribe, and it contained far too many f-bombs for the pleasant, upbeat, appropriate online persona I try to maintain. Additionally, the rage was proving detrimental to my mental health, so upon remembering that the answer to all of the above questions is a resounding "NO!", I opened a bottle of wine and, in the spirit of teacher appreciation week, resolved to write a list of things I appreciate about being a teacher.

Here goes:

1. I can still afford wine. Sure, it's usually a choice between the one with the rooster on it and the one with the foot on it, but if you never have anything better than that to compare it to, it's just fine...right?

2. I do not pay for Starbucks. I am privileged to teach in a very generous community, so if you want free coffee, come hang out with me.

3. I also do not pay for entertainment. Between middle school sporting events, concerts, and theater performances, I have free entertainment on multiple nights of most weeks. It's basically like I live in New York City, except, you know...free. I've also noticed that many 7th grade basketball games look a lot like rugby, so it's kind of a 2-for-1 deal. My only struggle in these situations is trying to find a kid to buy me nachos once my behind has become permanently molded to the bleachers.

4. I have helpers for EVERYTHING. Seriously, when I'm working too hard, it's my own fault because it means I've forgotten that middle school kids will do anything for candy. Also, not many people know this, but frequently, they're even helpful out of the goodness of their hearts. For example, if I spot something especially repulsive on my floor, like a used tissue or a band-aid, I may start shouting that I'll vomit on the next person who thinks it's OK to throw something like that on the floor. Now, I'm mostly doing that to remind them about decency, but it never fails that some gallant young person jumps up and removes the offending band-aid, often with their bare hands. Where else can you get that kind of service?

5. Many parents really get it. I spent most of last week in meltdown mode, and then, on Thursday morning, one of my students rolled in for an early round of tutoring and delivered a piping hot donut AND kolache to my desk. Edible gifts aside, I also sincerely appreciate every parent who makes sure their kid wears deodorant and/or hasn't bought their kid a fidget spinner yet. These people are all the greatest.

6. I've learned to not take anything too seriously. How can I, when every time I finish saying something especially wise, the next person who speaks asks to go to the bathroom? If spending years and years of your life reliving puberty gives you anything, it's perspective. Very few things are actually urgent or life-altering, and I try to share this lesson with my students daily, though it's usually by saying, "If you aren't on fire or actively bleeding to death, go sit back down."

7. Sometimes, they really are listening. I might still be struggling to get seventh graders to capitalize the beginnings of their sentences, but they can all tell you that my number one rule is "don't embarrass me." If they're being goofy and I ask, "Wait a minute! Who's allowed to disrupt my class?", they answer in unison, "Only you!" In an attempt to get a shy class to answer a question, I once said, "Take a guess! It's not like I'm going to throw a rock at you if you're wrong!", and just like that, my "throwing rocks" became a yearly joke. On top of all that, they most definitely remember anything embarrassing that I've ever told them (we write a lot- it gets personal!). They'll parrot back anything ridiculous I say; I can only hope that they're hearing the important stuff, too.

     If you've read this far, you've probably figured out that instead of quitting my job, I'm thinking about which boxes in my garage to move back to my parents' house first so that I can keep seeing my kiddos every day.

     I don't love being A teacher; I love being THEIR teacher, and I love all the tears, smells, hormones, and attitudes that come with it (maybe not the smells, but you get what I'm saying...). If you need me, I'll be in my classroom, spraying air freshener while handing out band-aids, writing restroom passes, explaining that the nurse doesn't have a cure for boredom, and hoping they learn to be decent humans who can also read and write well.

confession 3: i got jeggings.

i have long believed that leggings and tights cannot pass as pants, and recently, they've been masquerading as such. every time i interact with someone who is wearing them, especially tights, with a regular shirt, the following conversation plays through my mind:

"oh, hi, there you are. oh, and there's your labia. glad the three of us are meeting here as equals."

imagine my dismay when i went shopping yesterday and came home with my very own pair of jeggings, which are ridiculous for the aforementioned reasons AND have a silly name. they were on sale, though, and i couldn't help noticing that they had an elastic waistband. (don't worry--i bought a ball-gown length shirt to go with them, too.)

i am a hypocrite. i wore them all day long, and now i'm looking for a long enough shirt to justify wearing them tomorrow, too. if you see me strutting around wearing jeggings and a nightgown this weekend, that'll be your clue that i've finally got it all figured out.

confession 2: let it go

beauty, that is. i am in the process of completely letting myself go. i am actually terrified of what i will look like in 5 years, but that's somehow still not motivating me to try very hard. in the past month, i have stopped wearing makeup altogether, leading well-intentioned friends and coworkers to ask about my health. i haven't had a haircut since last june. i painted my toenails this week for the first time in three months. i think i've been to the gym twice since the school year started. i still do the basics, like bathing and brushing my teeth, but forget about shaving my legs. sometimes, i'm even too lazy to brush my hair.

i used to pride myself on having the confidence and depth of character to not worry about shallow things like my appearance. "natural beauty" was a kind of moral high ground. let's face it, though: i'm too old for that sh!t now.

this is all on my mind because, come saturday, i will be visiting a wedding dress boutique with my sister, and i'm worried that:

a) someone will think i'm the bride's grandmother

b) someone will think i'm the groom

c) the snooty ladies will refuse to let me in the store, a la pretty woman

d) all of the above

D. the answer is obviously D! i am really going to have to repress my miss congeniality/mama june/homer simpson personality in order to survive in this setting. i don't have any deep thoughts or life philosophy born out of this dilemma; i'm just rushing to do what i can to appear both female and younger than 80 for an hour-and-a-half window on saturday (moustache waxed, spanx located, etc.).

i really feel like i can pull this off. i HAVE been to bridal shops before. i'm not the one who will be trying on dresses. hopefully they will feed me champagne like in the movies.  surely someone will remind me to put lipstick on.

until saturday afternoon, though, i won't be able to shake the scene that keeps playing in my head: we walk into the bridal shop- sister 1, the bride, looks like carrie bradshaw. sister 2 looks like a homecoming queen. i walk in behind them, radiant with sweat/face grease/allergies. the snooty lady behind the counter picks up a lace-covered walkie-talkie. "hello, security?" she shrieks, her face panicked but still pinched. "the zombie apocalypse has started. yes. yes. YES, DAMMIT, I'M SURE. she has purple circles around her eyes, her hair is matted together, and i can see her leg hair through her sweatpants. get down here fast before she bites someone! and bring your gun!!"

at that point, folks, the security guard will likely be faster than i am, so it's been real. if i make it out, it might be time for an intervention.

confession 1 (for real): the big one

my first confession is by far the worst one. it caused me the most pain in my childhood, and it's time for it to just come out: i stole.

    

it really wasn't on purpose. it was a misunderstanding. i was just holding it for a friend...i have all of these classic excuses lined up, yet no one has ever heard my shameful story. here goes...

as a kindergartner, i, like many children, enjoyed the daily routine of going to centers: the home center, the listening center, the puzzle center, etc. one of my personal favorites was the math center, not because i liked math, (i have sided with the female stereotype and opted to despise math for my entire life.) but because of the tiny, colorful blocks called "unifix cubes" that we got to play with.

remember these???

   

i never did any math with them, but we built some magnificently long chains of them winding through our kindergarten classroom. after one such afternoon of chain-building, the teachers called for us to clean up our centers and get back to our seats. another thing compassionate readers should know is that i have a crippling fear of being reprimanded. we cleaned up our chain almost instantaneously, motivated by the terror that goes with "getting your name on the board." i was on my way back to my seat when, much to my dismay, i saw two lonely unifix cubes sitting off to the side, far from their rightful bucket home. panicked by the thought of my teacher noticing that we had left anything behind, i picked up the cubes, one blue and one orange. i put them in my pocket with the intention of returning them to the bucket later, when no one was looking, because god forbid anyone thought i had stolen them. that was my actual thought process.

side note: then and now, practical people everywhere might second-guess my mom's decision to dress a five-year-old in guess jeans. my theory is that she was suffering from that beautiful feeling where a young person feels like they have money for the first time. it's the same phenomenon that allowed me to feel okay about paying full price for target shoes back in 2007 ($24.99, y'all). whatever the case, i have to say that those guess jeans served me well back in kindergarten. too well...maybe better than regular jeans from k-mart would have...because i got home from school that day, reached into my pocket, and pulled out two unifix cubes, one blue and one orange.

imagine the abject terror that i, the child who was afraid of what would happen if all of the cubes weren't picked up, felt when i realized that those cubes had made it all the way home. my heart is racing right now just thinking about it. the back of my neck is sweating. i am 100% telling the truth. and since i was apparently raised to believe that making any mistake could get you scorned, smacked, or both, i chose the safest route: dishonesty and deception. 

instead of telling my mom that i had accidentally taken them, instead of sneaking them back into the bucket the next day, instead of throwing them into the garbage and forgetting about them, i hid those two unifix cubes in my closet. FOR THE NEXT FIVE YEARS. thoughts of my secret being found out consumed me. my most vivid daydreams included my mom finding the cubes, by then stashed safely in an old backpack, and/or my old kindergarten teachers realizing that the two cubes were missing and hunting me down. i don't want to be dramatic, but i'm pretty sure my accidental theft of those two unifix cubes destroyed my childhood. consumed by feelings of guilt, i withdrew into books and avoided forging new human friendships. instead of playing outside with the neighborhood children, i would stand inside that closet of my deepest shame and reach into the front pouch of that retired backpack, checking to see that my secret was still safe.

my most recent memory of panicking over my criminal past was when i was in fourth grade. i don't remember details; i just remember that that was how long it took for the guilt to subside. one day, i guess, i just decided that i was a bad-ass and didn't need to worry about it anymore. thank god for that delusion of grandeur because i really do have the kind of personality that could still be beating myself up for that one. 

there you have it: my darkest secret, which has never been shared with another living soul. as i come out of my very literal closet, i thank anyone who has heard my confession in it's entirety and still feels like they could be friends with me in spite of my cheapening the mathematical education of the thousands of kindergartners who came after me. peace be with you.

confessions: part 1

i have something to get off my chest. well, 40 things. you see, as recently as last november, i was reminded of the facebook tradition of posting something you are thankful for every day for THE ENTIRE MONTH OF NOVEMBER. as i read the posts of my morally superior friends, i decided two things: 1. i will never be warm-hearted and gracious enough to think of 30 things i'm thankful for. 2. what i CAN do, and i think it's in the same vein, is think of 40 confessions during this season of lent. that's the same, right?

admittedly, i am a little behind thanks to family hospitalizations and run-of-the-mill job loathing, but i solemnly swear to catch up. if you care to come with me of this journey of self-disclosure and absolution, welcome. if you think i'm tastelessly offensive in my mocking of the purer souls who mustered up the energy to give thanks when i point-blank refused to do so, you are probably right, but you also probably don't know me very well. i am only doing this because of a concept i learned about in an interpersonal communication class in college: when one person shares personal information, the other person feels obligated to match that with the sharing of equally personal information. so basically, you are all welcome in advance for the sensitive material i am about to reveal, and also, i win...because i promise that each of these forty lenten confessions will be more personal and embarrassing than those facebook posts about being thankful for low-carb tortillas and sunshine.

stumbling through life

somewhere during this weekend's SECOND viewing of Pocahontas (so violent! why did i watch it twice?!?!), i decided to waste even more time on facebook and stumbled across this goofy blog that i honestly thought no longer existed. i read through its few posts and realized that it had given me a pretty entertaining record of a few months of my life. maybe i'll start writing on here again...maybe. it would be nice to have something to look back at thirty years from now, provided that our technologically dependent society hasn't been hit by an asteroid or disintegrated into a hunger games-style dystopia.so on the off chance that the internet and i both still exist in the 2040s, here goes:

this has been a craptastic year, falling deeply into the following categories: "stuff that makes you extremely thankful for the good times," "if only the mayans had been right...sigh," and "more xanax, please."

***DISCLAIMER***
                       a. i do not actually wish the world had ended.
                       b. i am not abusing xanax. i have never even taken a xanax. it is something that, like quitting my job or visiting alaska, i have fantasized about but do not have the balls to actually DO.
                       c. i am probably a candidate for a number of prescription drugs and am not making light of anyone's mental health issues. just my own.

moving on, i do not have the emotional energy necessary to catalog  the harsher realities of the past year, so i thought maybe i would feel more awesome about life if i forced myself to make a list of the good things that have happened this year. the grouchy side of me immediately thought:

 1. i still have a job.

2. i am not dead.

-END OF LIST-

but, like i do with seventh graders for months on end, i required myself to think a little harder. i can't promise that these aren't laced with cynicism and maybe a splash of bitterness, but i really did think of as many as i could.

"good" things that happened during the 2012-2013 school year:

an exhaustive, exhausting list that no one in the world should feel obligated to read

1. i still have a job.

2. i am not dead.

3. the mayans were not right.

4. all dogs remained extremely healthy.

5. my house is still standing. this is not sarcasm. after watching the coverage of these recent tornadoes, i have really been appreciating my modest, messy little home. it has reminded me of a scene from my favorite book, harry potter 7, where harry realizes what a miracle his living body is. that's how i feel about my standing house. the walls and ceilings and appliances, all covered in black dog hair, are miraculous.

6. i read A LOT of good books this year.

7. i found an easy curry recipe that i love.

8. most of my recent addictions have been to healthy and harmless things, like greek yogurt and bubble baths and young adult fantasy novels.

9. no unpleasant encounters with my students' parents. this may be a first. 

10. many healthy babies were born to many happy friends.

11. i revamped my wardrobe. we'll call that a win for grief-induced shopping binges.

12. i made some phenomenally cool new friends. 

13. after many emotional meltdowns over the thought of selling rosita the punch buggie, i treated myself to a shiny new car. her name is margarita, but she goes by rita mae because that's what i always thought the beatles' song said. all of her parts seem to be working.

14. i got hooked on the first mumford & sons album, which is just absolutely beautiful. i cook breakfast to it every saturday. 

15. i cultivated- if not a love, then at least- a respect for football, fueled mainly by my love of beer, chips, and yelling. 

16. facebook's mandatory switch to timeline did not ruin my life.

17. i finally learned to buy shiner's seasonal beers in such massive quantities that i have a few left at the start of that beer's season the next year. this also makes me feel good because it's proof that i do not drink them all at once.

18. i am expanding my horizons by attempting to read a book on a kindle for the first time.

19. recent television classic "new girl" swooped in to take the place of the sitcoms i lost this year.

20. thanks to my dvr, i'll be able to watch "30 rock" and "the office" for millenia to come.

21. just as i self-diagnosed myself with an adult onset peanut allergy, i discovered that snickers comes in an almond variety. #winning

22. my fantastically generous baby brother gave me the gift of his time and brute strength for my birthday, turning a boring-ass patch of flagstone into a charming little flower bed. this is something i had wanted to do for at least two years.

23. said brother also scoured the internet for the greatest material gift any human being could give me and found the complete series of my all-time favorite show, "david the gnome," on dvd. i win again, this time in the "brother" category. additionally, watching those old episodes gave me some helpful insights into how i became the militant liberal environmentalist child that i was. i probably would have fit in better growing up in texas if they had been playing "song of the south" on nick jr.

24. during a few beautiful weeks of february, i took some delightfully relaxing walks with the doggies.

25. the resurrection of arrested development will henceforth be celebrated every may 26th. it will be kind of like easter, but with more alcohol.

26. i discovered that welch's has been supplementing purple grape juice with calcium. it still doesn't count the way that "liking milk" would, but we'll call it a step in the right direction.

27. i have saved up a very small fortune designated for furnishing my house. if you are still reading this, i should probably invite you over once it looks nice.

28. i have successfully continued to avoid online dating, which has helped me to fulfill my other life goal of not being murdered.

29. i learned to make a very good pizza crust and produced a series of delicious pizzas before my pants stopped fitting.

30. at a time when we really didn't feel like it, my nearby family pulled it together and has celebrated as many occasions as we possibly could, just like we always have. i am grateful for that.

31. none of the lizards that have been swarming my house for the past three months has managed to make it inside--yet.

32. my school district was able to give us a small raise this year, which took some of the sting out of adding the horror of a car payment to my monthly bills.

33. i thoroughly enjoyed my free xm radio subscription while it lasted.

34. one of my sisters is a fashion design superstar and the other is allegedly becoming an engineer (meanwhile, i spend my days getting called a bitch by thirteen-year-olds, but i can be happy for them for a minute!)

35. my backyard is messy but beautiful...i love it!

36. i managed to procure every pair of nick and nora pajamas that i could ever want (on clearance) before target heartlessly got rid of them. f*ck you, target.

37. my school sent me on a trip to san antonio. i had forgotten how much i love san antonio!

38. i rediscovered my love of writing ridiculous poetry by writing my mom a mother's day poem. i can't share it here because it's inappropriate personal.

39. this year, i put up full-blown christmas decorations in my front yard, complete with wooden cutouts. they're still up.

(just kidding.)

40. in march, i took a spectacular trip to baltimore to see a couple of good friends. it was a quick trip, but i'm thankful for the fun we got to have!
41. no stds! now, i've been reminded by numerous doctors that i am not high-risk for any of those, but remember, this is a year where any thing that is not a sudden death, natural disaster, or cancer diagnosis counts as good news, so there it is. and i'm determined to get to 50. good things, that is.

 42. i cleaned my fridge yesterday. there is far less rotten food in there now. surely that adds to my (self-assessed) clean bill of health.

43. i have watched three disney movies in their entirety since i started writing this list.

 44. north korea hasn't nuked us yet.

45. it's time to pick blueberries!

46. i am going to the beach this summer. lots of times.

47. i found two of my favorite care bears movies on dvd this year. i haven't watched them, but i'm glad i have them in case the stork ever drops off a daughter who was born in the 80s. 

48. our local library is extending its hours this summer. i LOVE the library!

 49. no one is going to read this, so i am not embarrassed by how ridiculous it is.

50. in a week, this year will be over.

-END OF LIST-