Today marks
12 years of slicing:
31 days each year.
Hundreds of thoughts
And moments
And memories
Captured
And shared.
Every year I tell myself:
It’s Ok to
Struggle
Doubt
Skip a day
But I don’t.
This community and my commitment
Keep me
Showing up,
Accountable,
Fulfilled,
Writing.
Today was the perfect day to sit on the sidelines at soccer.
It was 62 degrees with a bit of a chill in the air, spring battling between siding with summer or sticking with winter a little longer.
We sat cross-cross applesauce on the sidewalk at the edge of the field, thankful it wasn’t too dusty. A warm pretzel, dripping with butter and flaky salt, was positioned between us, weighing down its little paper boat to keep it from flying away in the wind.
It was bright but overcast, the kind of day where your sunglasses spend most of the time perched on top of your head just in case. At the last minute I had thrown on a sweatshirt over my t-shirt, but I was able to peel back that extra layer by halftime.
The games are long—we’re up to 40-minute halves at this age—but it doesn’t seem so long when you aren’t sweating or freezing.
Our boys scored first, then again. The remainder of the game was back-and-forth, with us coming out on top with a 3-2 victory.
For 90 minutes I got to push away chores and responsibilities and those inevitable Sunday stresses and just be a mom on the sidelines.
This morning my mom needed me to bring plastic spoons to my niece’s birthday party.
Sz needed me to stop for her to pick out a new book (a slice for another time).
The whole family needed me to pick up what was left at the consignment sale.
Daniel and Seb needed me to pick up dinner.
Sz needed me to pick her up from a friend’s house.
Now it’s late and the house is quiet and it’s my time to write…but Frosty is pushing my hands out of the way because he needs me to pet him.
Being needed is exhausting, yet it’s also a beautiful reminder of how full my life truly is.
It crept up on me slowly, but it’s time to confess:
I’ve become a book juggler.
This month started simply enough with Melanie’s new book, Foundational Skills for Writing. I’m savoring it chapter by chapter and have been reading it as my professional book for several weeks.
I also always have a fiction book at my bedside, an escape from reality and a comfort to dive into someone else’s story. Last weekend I started Libba Bray’s Under the Same Stars, an intriguing World War II story that alternates between the 1940s, 1980, and 2020. It was one of the books I carried home with me (autographed) from NCTE last fall, and I’ve been anxious to read it.
But I don’t always have my physical book with me and sometimes I get stuck in a drive thru or a carpool line or a waiting room, so it’s not unreasonable that I also have a digital book on my phone/Kindle. After devouring The River is Waiting last month, I realized I’d never read She’s Come Undone. I’m just a little over halfway through.
My instructional coach colleagues came back from NCTE excited to read the updated edition of Katie Wood Ray’s Wondrous Words. We had our book study today (the middle chunk of the book), so I’m also slowly reading my way through that text.
I also remembered today in a conversation with friends that I’m reading The Digital Deception, trying to wrap my brain around the benefits of Ed tech and where we might be going wrong. This book was mentioned at my literacy PLN last month and I dove right in, but it landed on the back burner over Spring Break. I need to get back to it.
So, with the best of intentions and some overly ambitious choices, I’ve found myself juggling five books right now.
Some might say it’s too much; I just say I’d rather have too many books than not enough.
The sign was hand-painted, red on a solid white background:
MECHANICAL BULL
Followed by a 10-digit local phone number.
Someone had stuck it into the dirt, right at the edge of the curb where cars were forced to stop at the top of the exit ramp.
I could tell the three teenagers in the car wanted to call. One of them even opened the keypad on his cell phone.
Maybe they didn’t because an SUV pulled up next to us and blocked the sign.
Maybe it was because I suggested it was too early to call, not even 8am.
Probably it was because they’re 14 and they can’t fathom actually talking to another human on the phone.
Whatever the reason, part of me will always wonder what might have happened if they would have dialed that number.
I went to my first Poetry Slam today.
It started at 8am in the middle school library. As kids from three different classes trickled in, they set their poetry binders down and grabbed a cup of hot chocolate, which they loaded up with whipped cream and marshmallows and chocolate chips and sprinkles and multiple flavors of syrup (a drink designed for Buddy the Elf).
Three long tables, adorned with green tablecloths and battery-operated candles, were packed with nervous sixth graders. As they sipped their hot chocolate, the librarian set the stage, dimmed the lights, and gave them a full 30 seconds to get out their “oohs” and “ahhs” and whatever other obnoxious sounds they needed to make.
Then three little girls, armed with microphones and perky smiles, took the dimly lit stage to announce each poet. After coaching us on how to “snap, not clap,” the first performer was announced and took the stage.
One by one, kids filed up and recited their poems. Some were nervous. Some were confident. Some poems were about strength and fitting in. Some were about sports and video games. Some made absolutely no sense at all (but the kids cheered anyway). A few brave kids attempted to freestyle.
Throughout the performances, kids were celebrated and supported. There were big smiles and abundant snaps.
It’s a beautiful thing to spend time celebrating kids’ voices.
As much as I do love the traditional (paper books, open windows to let in the breeze, clothes dried in the sunshine), I’m also a big fan of modern conveniences.
I love being able to download a book to my Kindle when I can’t make it to the library.
Ordering groceries and having them delivered is sometimes not only helpful but a necessity on weekends when we’re insanely busy.
Online banking? Makes life so simple.
I never want to call to order a pizza again.
But I may have peaked on conveniences this morning when, realizing a certain puppy left some teeth marks on the toes of my only seasonally-appropriate black dress shoes, I was able to hop on the Target app, choose a new (trendier) pair, and order for curbside pick up. Before 8:30 AM I had clicked the order button, pulled up in front of the store, and had a brand new pair of shoes handed to me through my car window.
Today’s lesson: never cease to be amazed by modern conveniences.
Today I was tired, but I still got up when my alarm went off (for the third or fourth time, if I’m being honest).
I was tired, but I went to work and caught up with my coordinator team.
I was tired, but I sent emails and answered messages and planned for the weeks ahead.
I was tired, but I came home from work and loaded all my consignment items in the back of my car.
I was tired, but I made a decent dinner (roast chicken with new potatoes) for my family.
I was tired, but I went to PSR with the kids and we all went to Confession since Lent is almost over.
I was tired, but I drove to the rec plex and, with the help of the kids, unloaded, sorted, checked, and set out over 400 items (clothing, books, and toys) to sell this week.
I was tired, but I fulfilled my promise of Crumbl Cookie in exchange for child labor. (I rewarded myself with a warm chocolate chip cookie, too, of course.)
I was tired, but I unloaded the empty boxes, tidied up the kitchen, started the dishwasher, wiped down the cabinets, and prepped for tomorrow.
I was tired, but I survived. The first day after Spring Break is always the hardest.
Just before Spring Break, Sz started writing a novel. She shared it with friends and talked about it nonstop for days. It was driven by her love for The Hunger Games.
After last week’s gymnastics competition, she decided to devote herself to a different book during the break.
On Monday, she grabbed blank paper from our printer and sketched out a plot. (I was impressed to see her begin with a plot diagram out of the corner of my eye.)
By Tuesday, she was a few thousand words in and spent every second she could holed up in her room typing away on her iPad. She built a writing playlist on Amazon Music and barricaded herself in a pile of pillows with music, ice water, and big ideas.
On Wednesday, we went to Grandpa’s lake. After a whole day away from her device, she was anxious to get back to it as soon as we got home. She announced at bedtime that her word count was close to 12,000 and unearthed her planner to set writing goals for the next few weeks.
On Thursday, I set up a “writing retreat” for us at the Starbucks inside our local Barnes and Noble. Her friend met us there and they wrote, shared ideas, and giggled for a few hours over fruity iced drinks and cookies.
On Friday and Saturday, she continued racking up the word count and sharing her excitement about how her story is unfolding.
Today was the final day of Spring Break and she hit her goal of 20,000 words—the first 63 pages of a much longer story. Despite the unseasonable heat (why was it 93 degrees in March?!?!), she grabbed a picnic blanket and a printed copy of her progress and met her friend from next door in our backyard. For almost four hours they read and talked and wrote under the big pine tree at the corner of our yard.
Tomorrow “normal” life resumes. Though bedtimes will go back to normal and practices and activities will pick back up, I have no doubt that my writer is going to keep up the momentum.
She has big ideas and beautiful words to share with the world, and I can’t wait to see what happens next.
Read. Reflect. Teach. 