Friday we celebrated Valentine’s Day in my fourth grade classroom. There was no avoiding it, and honestly I enjoy this celebration.
I’ve always worked to keep it low key, since for the majority of my teaching career I worked in a school where many of the children come from rather dire situations. Sometimes there isn’t money for Valentines, and sometimes there isn’t anyone at home who cares whether a child has Valentines to bring to school or not. It’s really very sad, since a box of store bought Valentines can be had for a dollar, far less than the cost of a pack of cigarettes or six pack of beer or another tattoo, but I digress.
I don’t work in that situation anymore, and the atmosphere on Valentine’s Day was electric. The children were so excited to share their cards and candies, and I couldn’t help but enjoy their enthusiasm. We had a wonderful morning and accomplished all that we set out to do, then after lunch we finally distributed cards. I had a couple of kids who didn’t bring their own cards distribute mine, and I soaked in the atmosphere. The kids were happy and cooperative and they reminded me of my own elementary school Valentine’s days. I also watched as my little bag overflowed, and heart shaped boxes of candy piled up next to it. These kids spoiled me like crazy! Along with the cards and hearts, I received a giant kiss, a pink Webkinz fish, and a Starbucks gift card. All of these are great, but my absolute favorite is the little solar powered pig with wings that I was given by one of my little boys. O.M.G. It’s adorable. The kids know I love my flying pigs, and this little guy found the perfect one. It has a place of honor in the classroom.
I’m so fortunate to work with these children, and with these families who go out of their way to help their kids out and show appreciation for their teachers. I definitely felt the love this Valentine’s Day, and for that I am so grateful.
Tomorrow is February 3. That means that in five months it will be my birthday. The day that will end the 47 for 47 Challenge year. On that day I will have either met my goals or not. I don’t anticipate sitting at the computer on my birthday studying the list, alternately congratulating myself and beating myself up, although I suppose that could happen. Just knowing that the list is there for all to see and wonder at is pretty powerful motivation to get going on some of those items.
The whole reason I began blogging was for me to spout off about how wonderful I am (or not) and how great a job I was doing taking care of myself (or not). Sadly, it’s been more of the not, but happily, the blog has grown beyond that original seed of an idea, so even with my many screw ups there’s still something interesting to read from time to time. There must be. People keep coming back, and new readers find me and follow BulgingButtons every day. How amazing is that?
But I digress. It’s a talent of mine. Not digression per se, but procrastination. I’m taking the long way around telling you that I’m ready to get back up on that horse. I’m ready to eat my fruits and veggies and do my exercise. I’m ready to drink my water and hold myself accountable. I’m ready to try again.
I know, you’ve heard it all before. You are patient, bearing with me all this time. You’ve listened to me wax poetic about delicious meals and sedentary pursuits. You’ve endured my whiny musings on feeling low, sick, discouraged, and frustrated. You’ve nodded politely when I’ve gotten excited about some small victory or another, and through it all you’ve hung in there with me. You are warriors.
You tune in hoping for some news of progress, some positive report from the front line, but I offer you little. A scrap here, a morsel there. Still, you support me. You forgive me my sins. You remind me that I’m only human, after all. You offer your hugs and support and encouragement and laughter. You open your worlds to me, and what do I give you in return?
Hopefully you know that I give you a piece of myself. I write from the heart (how disgustingly cliche, I’m sorry). I don’t sugar coat, and I don’t worry much about hurt feelings. I do, but not in my writing, because I’m generally a pretty open-minded nice person. I’m not likely to say anything cutting or mean, so I don’t worry about censoring myself, after all, I know I’m not going to yell at you. I’m far more likely to yell at me.
I try to give you something to think about, or smile at. I try to stay positive and upbeat and focus on the good things in life. I try to offer my observations and experiences in a way that’s interesting or thought provoking. I’m not trying to tell anyone who to be or what to think, but I’m allowing you all a glimpse of who I am and what I think. That doesn’t sound like a significant contribution to the good of humankind, but right now it’s what I’ve got to offer, take it or leave it.
This was supposed to be the year of loving myself enough to do all that I needed to make my life as wonderful as possible. I’ve done a lot of positive things, but I have so much more to do. It’s a little like getting my house ready to sell. I want to fixate on tiny inconsequential things at the expense of the obvious. In terms of the house it’s simple, CLEAN UP. In terms of my life it’s simple too, LOSE WEIGHT.
I think I can lose 50 pounds in 5 months. That’s sane and safe and would go a long way toward improving my health and life. There, I’ve written it. That makes it real.
I’m cleaning up and resisting the temptation to do silly things like rearrange drawers. I’m also committing to eating better and moving more. That’s about as much as I can handle right now. I did go to the grocery store and purchase some delicious mandarins, salad, yogurt, carrots, hummus, orange juice, and water to wash it all down.
I also purchased some light beer. Hey, it’s the Super Bowl, and the sweetheart is in the kitchen cooking his yearly pot of gourmet chili. I better take my walk before the festivities begin. Besides, the 3rd isn’t until tomorrow.
The other night my dear mother took me out for a night out in honor of my father’s birthday. He passed away more than a decade ago, but we still celebrate his birthday. We ate a delicious dinner, then enjoyed the opera at Symphony Hall. It was a fine, elegant evening.
Here’s the thing, though, my feet are killing me as a result. We parked in a garage near the opera hall and walked two blocks to the restaurant. Two blocks. Not even long blocks. Short blocks. Tiny blocks. Hardly even blocks at all. It was fine. Not a problem. I mean, I didn’t walk quite as quickly as mom, but her heels weren’t quite as high as mine. At least I don’t think they were.
They aren’t really that high, those heels. I would call them a “moderate” heel. They’re a cute pair of peep-toe sling-backs. I’ve worn them on many occasions, and they dress up an outfit beautifully. I hadn’t worn them recently, though. Apparently the last time I wore them I was younger and lighter. Well, younger for sure, I’m not sure about lighter.
I began to realize that they might not have been the best choice as we descended the metal stairs from the fourth level of the parking garage. As I clanged my way down my toes began to feel a little pinched. No big deal, I thought, I can handle this. I was happy to arrive at the restaurant and take my seat. I didn’t give my tootsies another thought until we were on our way back to Symphony Hall. Holy cow, my mom can move for a woman her age. I did my best to keep up. How embarrassing.
We got there early so we milled around the lobby before the doors were opened for seating. Finally we headed inside the theater proper. Our seats were on the aisle, so we kept popping up to allow people to go by. By the time the lights went down I was ready to remove my shoes. I didn’t though, because I knew putting them back on would be worse. The good news is the performance was magnificent, and had my full attention.
Intermission, on the other hand, was miserable. We hustled off to the ladies room along with every other woman in that theater, and stood in line. Fortunately it moved quickly, because by this point my feet just plain hurt. Normally my mother likes to wander the lobby. She often bumps into an acquaintance or two. These little exchanges make me somewhat uncomfortable under the best of circumstances, but add in achy feet, and I took a pass. I think mom was a bit disappointed, but she joined me back at our seats.
The second act was just as wonderful as the first, and the standing ovation was well deserved, if not comfortable. Then came the walk back to the parking garage and the climb up the metal stairs to the fourth level. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.
I think I may have to swear off heels for a while, until there is less of me to support on the balls of my feet. My honey doesn’t exactly tower over me, so I usually choose flats anyway these days. Maybe I’ll send those heels packing. They have served their purpose, and they no longer meet my needs. Meanwhile, my poor feet are still aching. Tomorrow I think I’ll wear tennis shoes.
I don’t work in that situation anymore, and the atmosphere on Valentine’s Day was electric. The children were so excited to share their cards and candies, and I couldn’t help but enjoy their enthusiasm. We had a wonderful morning and accomplished all that we set out to do, then after lunch we finally distributed cards. I had a couple of kids who didn’t bring their own cards distribute mine, and I soaked in the atmosphere. The kids were happy and cooperative and they reminded me of my own elementary school Valentine’s days. I also watched as my little bag overflowed, and heart shaped boxes of candy piled up next to it. These kids spoiled me like crazy! Along with the cards and hearts, I received a giant kiss, a pink Webkinz fish, and a Starbucks gift card. All of these are great, but my absolute favorite is the little solar powered pig with wings that I was given by one of my little boys. O.M.G. It’s adorable. The kids know I love my flying pigs, and this little guy found the perfect one. It has a place of honor in the classroom.
BulgingButtons 