Oh dear. Methinks I must have these.
Sunday, November 16, 2014
Saturday, November 15, 2014
Bunny :)
A little doodling on a piece of scrap paper tonight...makes me wish I could go back to school!
Too Beautiful Not to Post
How gorgeous is this? I LOVE the colors, and of course the succulents. Succulents are my best friends- virtually indestructible, even for a novice gardener. I must try this in the summertime!
Mr. Darcy, the original McDreamy
Who doesn't want a proposal from Mr. Darcy? And now you can have one around your neck! :) I found these adorable scarves on Etsy.com.
Instantly in love! (unlike Elizabeth Bennet)
Celebrating the Season
Babies.
All around
are babies, babies and more babies. Babies running around, babies bundled up,
and babies still in the oven. All of our friends are either pregnant, on child
number two or three, or trying hard. Never before has it been such a struggle
not to define my worth by those around me. I see how their husbands look at
them and pay them attention. They have a purpose, a plan, a direction to follow,
and here I am—working my job each day, fixing dinner, grading papers and going
to sleep before my husband does. It’s hard. But it’s times like these that I
must learn to celebrate childlessness.
A voluntary
decision I must trust.
We have
decided to wait, or I should say, the world has made us wait. Money. Stress.
The Mortgage. The Master’s. One thing stacked on top of another. It is a voluntary
decision, and one that I hope we don’t regret later, but one that I have to
trust.
We’ve only
been married a year. Silly to feel useless already, I presume, but it’s still
something that women inherently struggle with. We want to please our husbands,
and if we aren’t married to a vocal man, it is easy to doubt. What is the
greatest way to please a man—we’ve been told to give him a child! But, are we
good wives without producing children? Only one verse in Proverbs 31 directly
says that the virtuous woman has children, but the verse after is what clinches
it, “As does her husband who praises her: ‘Many women have done wonderful things,’
he says, ‘but you surpass all of them!’” The world wants us to think that you
haven’t been truly fulfilled yet until you have children.
Finding
peace.
I find peace
in Ecclesiastes, which says that for everything there is a season.
All I can do
is enjoy the moment I am in, and look hopefully into the future, for soon my
season will change, and I will be looking back on this entry and laughing, and
wishing I had the peace and quiet I do now. . .
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
Veterans Day
Happy Veterans Day to my veteran and all the other veterans past and present. We celebrate and appreciate you not only one day a year, but every day that we enjoy our freedom.
Monday, November 10, 2014
Be Still, My Wandering Heart
Gets me every time. Cue the ugly cry.
*Sob* Pass the tissues, please.
Thursday, November 6, 2014
Sanctuary
Hello, secret corner of the web,
Here I am again in what I like to call my "sanctuary" time. The kiddies are at lunch, and I have all my papers organized for the next subject, Spelling.
Today is what Winnie the Pooh would call a blustery day. The leaves are dancing and the raindrops are cascading down in angles through the whipping wind. I had to hold my umbrella at a forty-five degree angle on the way to lunch, and I am so thankful I am wearing clogs today. Some of the kids don't even have coats! They are drenched, and it is hard not to tell them not to run back and forth.
I walked outside my classroom a minute ago and there was an orchestra of croaking. I felt like the courtyard was wired with Dolby surround sound. The frogs are talking to each other, and I like to imagine that they are asking each other how they are doing and if they are ready for winter- just like we do.
Not much to write about today except that I am ready for Christmas, but first, two weeks 'til my birthday!
Here I am again in what I like to call my "sanctuary" time. The kiddies are at lunch, and I have all my papers organized for the next subject, Spelling.
Today is what Winnie the Pooh would call a blustery day. The leaves are dancing and the raindrops are cascading down in angles through the whipping wind. I had to hold my umbrella at a forty-five degree angle on the way to lunch, and I am so thankful I am wearing clogs today. Some of the kids don't even have coats! They are drenched, and it is hard not to tell them not to run back and forth.
I walked outside my classroom a minute ago and there was an orchestra of croaking. I felt like the courtyard was wired with Dolby surround sound. The frogs are talking to each other, and I like to imagine that they are asking each other how they are doing and if they are ready for winter- just like we do.
Not much to write about today except that I am ready for Christmas, but first, two weeks 'til my birthday!
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
Entirely too long
Hello, computer universe! It has been entirely too long since I have posted anything to my little secret corner of the web. So much has happened since July, I wouldn't have the time or patience to repeat it all. Therefore, I will divulge the Spark notes version: I quit my job at a bank, and embarked on a great adventure as a third grade teacher!
I am still newish at my job, so I still have people asking if I like it, and I just laugh usually in my simply Suzanne way, and say, "Oh yes, some days I like it, some days I hate it." Hate is a strong word, perhaps the word irritate is better, however since I am the epitome of melodramatics hate is the word I mentally choose when asked.
I have the wonderful privilege, and yes, teaching is a privilege, of teaching twenty-three rambunctious, silly and oh-so-tender third graders. Their dreams are as big as the sky, and their bladders are as small as acorns. They kill me. Not literally, thank goodness, but in the humorous way.
Each day is an adventure. I've gone through already about one-hundred Band-Aids and it's only been the first quarter. I hear "Teacher, I'm bleeding." about five times a day, and luckily I've only had one puking instance, which didn't really produce any puke. Anytime a fly is in the classroom, I must kill it if I wish to get any knowledge across, and I never knew a handheld pencil sharpener could give someone so much entertainment.
There is nothing better than the thirty minutes of lunch you get each day to take off your shoes, lock the doors, close your eyes and drift into your sanctuary of alone time. Who am I kidding? Most of the time, I spend any break or lunch getting my papers ready for the next subject, picking up trash, running to the bathroom to pee faster than a racehorse, standing at the copier, organizing bookshelves and getting the projector ready. I usually have about five minutes to stuff my salad in my face, and suck down a Capri Sun, all the while grading papers and emailing parents. My record book has grease marks where I've dripped and sipped my lunch off its pages.
The prize of the day is the beginning and end. They are always happy to arrive, and always happy to leave. Hugs in the morning and hugs at night, and this is what makes teaching so rewarding and addicting. I could get a hug from those kids every morning and every night, and I still would wake up waiting for the next time that I hear them say in an excited voice, "Good Morning, Mrs. Deardorff!"
I am still newish at my job, so I still have people asking if I like it, and I just laugh usually in my simply Suzanne way, and say, "Oh yes, some days I like it, some days I hate it." Hate is a strong word, perhaps the word irritate is better, however since I am the epitome of melodramatics hate is the word I mentally choose when asked.
I have the wonderful privilege, and yes, teaching is a privilege, of teaching twenty-three rambunctious, silly and oh-so-tender third graders. Their dreams are as big as the sky, and their bladders are as small as acorns. They kill me. Not literally, thank goodness, but in the humorous way.
Each day is an adventure. I've gone through already about one-hundred Band-Aids and it's only been the first quarter. I hear "Teacher, I'm bleeding." about five times a day, and luckily I've only had one puking instance, which didn't really produce any puke. Anytime a fly is in the classroom, I must kill it if I wish to get any knowledge across, and I never knew a handheld pencil sharpener could give someone so much entertainment.
There is nothing better than the thirty minutes of lunch you get each day to take off your shoes, lock the doors, close your eyes and drift into your sanctuary of alone time. Who am I kidding? Most of the time, I spend any break or lunch getting my papers ready for the next subject, picking up trash, running to the bathroom to pee faster than a racehorse, standing at the copier, organizing bookshelves and getting the projector ready. I usually have about five minutes to stuff my salad in my face, and suck down a Capri Sun, all the while grading papers and emailing parents. My record book has grease marks where I've dripped and sipped my lunch off its pages.
The prize of the day is the beginning and end. They are always happy to arrive, and always happy to leave. Hugs in the morning and hugs at night, and this is what makes teaching so rewarding and addicting. I could get a hug from those kids every morning and every night, and I still would wake up waiting for the next time that I hear them say in an excited voice, "Good Morning, Mrs. Deardorff!"
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