Pink and blue all over.

As many of you know, I have walked in the Susan G. Komen 3Day for the cure many times and have been a strong supporter of their cause to cure breast cancer.  I was about to sign up to walk in my 5th Susan G. Komen 3Day for the Cure, but something held me back. 

Due to the political decisions SGK has made of late, not only have I lost some of my biggest financial supporters, but I myself am not sure if I can continue supporting a cause I have spent the last 6 years working to help. 

I don't believe in abortion, but I do believe in women taking care of their bodies...even when they don't have insurance.  Planned Parenthood is so much more than abortions.  It's a place for women of all ages to get an annual exam who might otherwise not.  It's a place for pregnant women of all ages to get prenatal care who might otherwise not.  It's a place for women of all ages to get cancer screenings who. might. otherwise. not.

SGK keeps making these claims that those of us who are opposed to their choice to stop funding for Planned Parenthood are losing sight of the goal.  They say we're not standing together as a family, that we can't let the negative talk surrounding this decision to get us off track.  They say we will be bigger, better, stronger when we all stand as one going into this year's 3Day. 

But there is a flaw in their logic.  SGK isn't the only breast cancer supporter.  There are other's working towards the same goal: a cure for breast cancer.  A cure for cancer. My guess is that SGK's loss will be Avon and other's gain.

I had never known about or even considered the link between SGK and PP in the past.  This is where I'm torn.  I didn't know before that they supported PP and I walked in four 3Days.  But now I know they no longer support PP.  Should my allegiance change?  If it's something I hadn't taken into account prior to all of this press, then I'm not sure that it should.  On the other hand, it's not so much that they don't support PP, it's that they made the conscious and political decision to stop that bothers me.  While I hadn't thought about it before, I now know that I wasn't just walking for women who have good health insurance.  I was walking for every woman (and men, too) who face their own fight against breast cancer.

I'm not trying to start a debate.  And I'm sure I don't know everything there is to know about this issue (I'm told that I shouldn't get all of my current events knowledge from Facebook).  If you have an opinion, share it.  Respectfully, please.  I haven't made up my mind, but I know which way I'm leaning.  And it makes me sad.

Early Bird

Early bird gets the worm.  That never enticed me to get up before I needed to...who wants worms?  The only reason...and I mean ONLY reason I get out of bed is to have my cup of coffee.  If there's not coffee, I could easily stay in bed all day, shouting orders to my children to bring me food, a new People Magazine, and more wine.

Unfortunately, my oldest child is an early bird.  She always has been...and I fear that even as a teenager she will be up before dawn.  And the worst part isn't that she's up.  It's that she's happy.  My son is usually trailing her down the stairs, but, like me, he'd rather still be asleep and came downstairs only because he was woken up.  He sits in a daze on the couch, silent.  Staring.  But Sophie, like the rising sun, is bright and her beams of happiness reach out to brighten those around her. 

"What are we doing today?  Did you remember to sign that sheet?  Can I have a sleepover tonight?  I had a dream about bunnies living in our backyard and when I went outside they asked if I wanted to play.  They were so cute!  Do you have glitter for my poster?  Can I work on it now?  Where are the markers?..."

Only, I haven't had my coffee yet and I don't want to be brightened.  And at some point I can't take it anymore.  And, as much as, at any other point in the day, I want to listen and respond in a kind manner, my caffeine-deprived brain explodes in frustration and over stimulation and I yell, "SOPHIE!  PLEASE. STOP. TALKING!!"  And then, for just a second, there's silence.  And she's broken.  And so is my heart. 

Eyes on the Road

Driving home from my mother-in-law's the day after Christmas, I glanced at the car zooming up I35 in the lane next to us and saw the driver paying very close attention to her Ipad.  We were going 70 miles per hour.  I was immediately filled with rage.  I sat in the passenger seat of our car and stared at her.  Glared at her.  But, as she was too busy holding her Ipad in one hand and taking full advantage of the touch pad with the other, she never looked up to see me.  Or the road.

A couple of weeks ago I got together with some of my favorite girlfriends.  We got onto the topic of texting while driving.  I stated that I don't text while driving, but admitted that occasionally I will sneak a peek at my phone while at a red light.  One of my girlfriends admitted the same.  But the other two admitted that they will text and check email while driving.  I asked them to please stop doing that.  And then one said, "It makes sense that you don't text while driving.  You have your kids in the car with you."  But here's the thing, and I said this to her, she may not be driving with kids in her car, but while her eyes are off the road, she could easily hit my car filled with my kids.  Or your car, filled with your kids. 

I have started leaving the volume off on my phone.  I will readily admit that when I hear that little jingle announcing a text message, I'm consumed with the need to know what it says.  But when I don't know there's a message, then I don't feel the need to check my phone, and I'm a better driver because of it. 

So, to my friends who text and drive, there is no email, no text message, no phone call, that is more important than your safety.  Or mine.  Or my kids'.  And to the woman I saw "driving" on I35, I hope you back over your Ipad before you back over someone's child.  Please don't text and drive.  Please. 

A Letter to my Husband

Dear Wade.
Please hang my car keys on the hook after you have driven my car. 

If you hang my keys on the hook after you have driven my car, I won't have to check the pockets of all of your coats before I leave the house.
If you hang my keys on the hook after you have driven my car, I won't have to rifle through the stuff on the top of your dresser before leaving the house.
If you hang the keys on the hook after you have driven my car, I won't have to call you in a frenzied panic before leaving the house.
If you hang my keys on the hook after you have driven my car, I won't be late for 2nd grade reading group. 
Or the kids' doctor appointments.  Or happy hour.

This is not to imply that I always hang them on the hook after driving my car, but at least when I misplace them it's my fault.  When you misplace them, it's your fault.  And that's ten times more frustrating. And it forces me to say mean things about you in my head.  And under my breath.

Thank you for your thoughtful consideration on this matter.
Your loving wife,
Sara

After

They finished the front of the house yesterday.  Almost.  But it's done enough that I thought I'd post a picture.

Here's the BEFORE.  White.  Black shutters.  Orange brick.  Red door.  Like I said previously, I had never thought of changing it until we had this opportunity.  But once we decided to do something different, I was so excited.  Something I've learned about myself lately (and I'll be writing more on this soon) is that I really like change.  I kind of thrive on it.  I like the planning and the options.  I like creating a picture in my mind, and then changing it.  And then changing it again.  It drives my husband nuts. 

Anyway, here's the after!  In all honestly, it took me a day to get excited about it.  When I walked outside for my first look at the (mostly) finished product, I was pretty shocked.  It looks so different.  At least to me.  Which is what I wanted.  Only, when I first saw it I wondered if I'd made a mistake.  But this morning, walking out to the bus stop, I looked again and thought, "I like it."  And this afternoon, coming around the corner after running errands (with two sick kids - friends in the area, don't go to Costco or the Burnsville Super Target for a few days.  Sorry!), I thought, "I love it!"  Of course, we're not out of the woods yet.  Now I need to decide what to do with my glaringly white garage doors.  On my previously white house, they looked perfectly fine.  But now...?  

So, opinions welcome.  Leave them or paint them dark brown? 

It's funny to think about the fact that after months of planning and waiting, it's pretty much done.  And in a year, or even a month, it will be "normal" and I won't think about it anymore.  Oh, but don't get me wrong.  I'll be thinking about something.  There's always something!

I couldn't think of anything to write on my blog, so I stole this from someone else's

One of my favorite blogs, Rants from Mommyland, posted this awhile back:

They borrowed it from a blog I have never heard of, called The Badger Hut.  Rumor has it that the Badger also has a twitter feed filled with these first world problems, if you're interested in reading more. 

I have never claimed to be the smartest crayon in the box, so it took me some time to figure out what the title, First World Problems, meant.  So, in case you're as smart as I am, here's my explanation: our lame first world issues as opposed to very real and usually life-threatening third world problems.  But as I dealt with my own "first world problem" yesterday, I found myself thinking about this crying Dawson, and it helped to put things into perspective.

They started to put the wrong siding on my house.  FWP because: we are getting new siding for free through State Farm.  Not to mention the fact that I. HAVE. A. HOUSE. on which to put that new siding.  So, while yesterday I was in a tizzy about having this dumpster in my driveway for two more weeks, today I'm thankful that I got to come from the cold bus stop into my warm house to a freshly brewed cup of coffee.

A Recent Conversation

On Saturday I had a Norwex table at the grand opening of an adorable little store in Farmington, MN.  One of the other vendors came up to me and said I looked familiar.  Here is that conversation:

Jenny: Excuse me.  You look really familiar to me.
Me:  I do?
Jenny: Yes.  Were you ever a teacher?
Me: Yes.
Jenny: In Lakeville?
Me: Yes.
Jenny: At Kenwood?
Me: Yes!  That was a long time ago!  I can't place you because you're all grown up.
Jenny:  I was Jenny H----.  Ms. Ryman!  You taught English.
Me: I must have had you early on if I was still Ms. Ryman.
Jenny: Yup.  I think the year I had you was your first year teaching.
Me:  Ok, I'm no math teacher, but I taught for six years and I've been out of teaching for seven.  If my addition is correct, you were in my class thirteen years ago.

That made me feel old.  She's 27 now.  Married, hoping to have a family in the near future.  As we talked, I started to remember her from my 8th grade class all those years ago.  But Jenny and I went on to talk about where she went to college, having kids and the fact that we both had a crush on Mr. Minske, the young social studies teacher down the hall from me.  She said she remembered Independent Reading, where students would bring in a book and spend the hour laying under tables and in the isles between desks reading while I graded their daily journals.

It was fun to catch up with her.  As a teacher, I loved seeing that one of my students had grown into a smart, well-spoken, confident adult.  She told me she now loves to read.  I told her I'm going to take some credit for that.