For about a day before seminary started back up this month, I missed the boys. Baby J was already in serious teenage boy withdrawal, following them with his eyes around church and practically jumping with glee when they took the time to notice him. But I was enjoying the break, right up until the end, when I told the husband I was ready to have them back.
Then they returned, in the flesh. And just like that, I didn't miss them anymore. And sort of wondered why I had.
Don't get me wrong: these are by and large good kids. I mean, they come to bible study at 6:30 in the morning, every school day, with virtually no complaints (at least to us). BUT, time away has put us almost back at square one as far as our bold behavior modification initiative goes. Already this week, the husband has had to give a stern lecture outlawing racist, prejudiced, or stereotyping jokes of any kind. I've had to command several boys to cease talking until they had something relevant to say. Both of us have repeatedly had to remind everyone that dancing, rapping, "secret" handshakes, and sound effects of any kind are frowned upon. And so it begins!
Really, it's good to be back on a regular schedule, and getting up so early means I don't resent J's penchant for the early morning hours (much) because we're up already (or almost). And J really does love the boys; I think he's become their mascot (there have been spirited discussions about his nickname on Facebook, for instance, and I've heard one boy gives a J report at dinner). So, all in all, we're happy they've returned. Now if we can all just make it until spring break!
Showing posts with label experiencia religiosa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label experiencia religiosa. Show all posts
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Friday, October 24, 2008
The monster mash
Happy Halloween!! Okay, I know it's a week early, but we had our annual church Halloween celebration, Trunk or Treat, tonight, so we got all dressed up and this may be as many festivities as we get this year. So there!
Baby J was a clown, with a cute little hat with a pompom which, when put on his head, accentuated the roundness which his hair usually hides, so he looked like a cute bowling ball headed clown. We got some pics and then our memory card died, so we're not sure they will come out ("fatal error" is never a good message to read) so I had a friend there take some emergency replacement shots on his camera, which he will hopefully email to us soon. But J was cute, trust me. That's the important message here!
To go along with the clown, I was a ring master (red blazer, boots, whip) and the husband was a strong man (tights under shorts, crumpled magazine muscles). We had to keep explaining our costumes, which we thought we might avoid this year, though we are no strangers such explanations (I mean, no one guessed we were Pierre and Marie Curie that one year, despite the "radioactive" glow-in-the-dark substance all over us and the Victorian clothing, and dressing as Winston Churchill and Margaret Thatcher in their primes also required us to clue people in often. What can I say? We like the high concept!). A monsoon moved in today, so instead of trick or treating to our trunks, we decorated rooms in the church, and the kids walked around a gazillion times until we all ran out of candy. Baby J liked the little lanterns we had gotten to give our room/trunk some atmosphere, so he lasted a long while until suddenly running out of steam and needing to go home RIGHTNOW!
All in all, it was a fun night, though we didn't get to chat with as many of our friends as we normally do since everyone was running around after kids hopped up on excitement, balloon animals, and the anticipation of loads of candy. We did have one unfortunate incident: one of the seminary boys "pantsed" the husband. It really was a sucker punch since he was holding baby J at the time and couldn't grab his shorts to minimize the damage. So now we have to have a talk with the boys to reestablish boundaries: we like you and we're friendly with you, but we are NOT your friends. You owe us the same (or more) respect you give the other adults in your life. Ahh, teenagers and their complete lack of thought!
Baby J was a clown, with a cute little hat with a pompom which, when put on his head, accentuated the roundness which his hair usually hides, so he looked like a cute bowling ball headed clown. We got some pics and then our memory card died, so we're not sure they will come out ("fatal error" is never a good message to read) so I had a friend there take some emergency replacement shots on his camera, which he will hopefully email to us soon. But J was cute, trust me. That's the important message here!
To go along with the clown, I was a ring master (red blazer, boots, whip) and the husband was a strong man (tights under shorts, crumpled magazine muscles). We had to keep explaining our costumes, which we thought we might avoid this year, though we are no strangers such explanations (I mean, no one guessed we were Pierre and Marie Curie that one year, despite the "radioactive" glow-in-the-dark substance all over us and the Victorian clothing, and dressing as Winston Churchill and Margaret Thatcher in their primes also required us to clue people in often. What can I say? We like the high concept!). A monsoon moved in today, so instead of trick or treating to our trunks, we decorated rooms in the church, and the kids walked around a gazillion times until we all ran out of candy. Baby J liked the little lanterns we had gotten to give our room/trunk some atmosphere, so he lasted a long while until suddenly running out of steam and needing to go home RIGHTNOW!
All in all, it was a fun night, though we didn't get to chat with as many of our friends as we normally do since everyone was running around after kids hopped up on excitement, balloon animals, and the anticipation of loads of candy. We did have one unfortunate incident: one of the seminary boys "pantsed" the husband. It really was a sucker punch since he was holding baby J at the time and couldn't grab his shorts to minimize the damage. So now we have to have a talk with the boys to reestablish boundaries: we like you and we're friendly with you, but we are NOT your friends. You owe us the same (or more) respect you give the other adults in your life. Ahh, teenagers and their complete lack of thought!
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Someone to hear your prayers
Just when we thought it couldn't get any weirder, today the seminary boys (I need to think of a catchier name for them) had a "rap battle" (their highly inaccurate words) after class. Picture this (if your life doesn't sometimes seem like a Fellini film, this visualization may be difficult): one boy got to give two others a scenario and a "number of rhymes" they had to reach before passing the baton to the other, and they would battle back and forth like that until the first boy called the competition. One of the contestants provided a "beat" courtesy of his cell phone, which turned out to be so slow you could have sambaed to it.
And then they were off...sort of. It's important to note that all of the boys involved here are white. And none of them grew up on the South Side of any major metropolitan area. Just so we're clear. The first bout started with the two competitors getting in the groove, I suppose you'd call it, which resulted in both of them bobbing to the beat. They looked like the start of a choreographed dance number out of an after-school special. About as tough as you might imagine. At this point, before the real competition had begun, I was already laughing hysterically, and the husband was looking very chagrined. Did I mention that one poor boy was intensely rhythmically challenged? And his struggle to make "good rhymes" exacerbated his lack of rhythm? Yeah.
What resulted was the slowest, most surreal "battle" I've ever witnessed. Baby J just sat and stared, completely flummoxed by this turn of events, while I kept laughing as the scenarios got more random and the consequent "raps" (HUGE, flaming scare quotes) made less and less sense. Our opening bout's situation was the janitor attacking the boys. A later scenario involved trick-or-treating (a seasonal touch) and being attacked by a gang. (One competitor did ask why they were always having to be attacked, a valid question, I thought.) Touchingly, though somewhat unbelievably, neither boy involved was at all self-conscious, a real feat given their total and complete lack of extemporaneous abilities. There were three rounds, each more involved than the last (more attacking, more requisite rhymes), and then a victor was declared (our friend with rhythm issues lost, sadly, but only because he was disqualified for using one of his competitor's rhymes). Another challenger would have stepped in, but his father arrived, leaving him to yell his own carefully prepared rap as he ran out the door.
Apparently, there's a rematch planned for Tuesday. I can't wait.
Yo. I'm out.
And then they were off...sort of. It's important to note that all of the boys involved here are white. And none of them grew up on the South Side of any major metropolitan area. Just so we're clear. The first bout started with the two competitors getting in the groove, I suppose you'd call it, which resulted in both of them bobbing to the beat. They looked like the start of a choreographed dance number out of an after-school special. About as tough as you might imagine. At this point, before the real competition had begun, I was already laughing hysterically, and the husband was looking very chagrined. Did I mention that one poor boy was intensely rhythmically challenged? And his struggle to make "good rhymes" exacerbated his lack of rhythm? Yeah.
What resulted was the slowest, most surreal "battle" I've ever witnessed. Baby J just sat and stared, completely flummoxed by this turn of events, while I kept laughing as the scenarios got more random and the consequent "raps" (HUGE, flaming scare quotes) made less and less sense. Our opening bout's situation was the janitor attacking the boys. A later scenario involved trick-or-treating (a seasonal touch) and being attacked by a gang. (One competitor did ask why they were always having to be attacked, a valid question, I thought.) Touchingly, though somewhat unbelievably, neither boy involved was at all self-conscious, a real feat given their total and complete lack of extemporaneous abilities. There were three rounds, each more involved than the last (more attacking, more requisite rhymes), and then a victor was declared (our friend with rhythm issues lost, sadly, but only because he was disqualified for using one of his competitor's rhymes). Another challenger would have stepped in, but his father arrived, leaving him to yell his own carefully prepared rap as he ran out the door.
Apparently, there's a rematch planned for Tuesday. I can't wait.
Yo. I'm out.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Do you wanna dance?
Some days seminary class is just, umm, unbelievable? Too humorous for words? Filled with a thunderous lack of anything even remotely spiritual? Yes, today was one of those days. We covered, among other topics, heroin offers at Applebee's, "depression" pills, violent, confused referees at college football games, "Amazing Grace," and whether you can "accidentally, intentionally, kind of a little of both" plow someone into the ground during a soccer game...and whether you need to repent since the guy was in your "box." Right......
An underlying theme here is one I've been noticing a lot of late: I am surrounded by boys. All of the sudden, my house floweth o'er with testosterone. When it was just the husband and me alone, I was able to keep the maleness of it all under control with constant targeted cleaning and stern reminders and cans of air freshener. But now, with baby J becoming undeniably, increasingly more prototypically male with each passing day and six gawky, grumpy, guffawing teenage boys here every weekday morning, no one has enough estrogen in the world to counteract our slide into Neverland. I keep expecting my living room to start smelling like a gym one day soon. Already I can't keep up with the clutter. Why are boys constitutionally incapable of putting their books in multiple bins provided for just that purpose? And do I look like their maid? Do I look like someone who wants to pick up their empty Gatorade bottles? And why are they drinking Gatorade at 6 in the morning? Do they not see the mat on which they should wipe their feet? How do they manage to get so many leaves attached to them on the short walk from the street to the house? All unanswerable questions, it appears.
One part religion, one part mystery, two parts hormones!
An underlying theme here is one I've been noticing a lot of late: I am surrounded by boys. All of the sudden, my house floweth o'er with testosterone. When it was just the husband and me alone, I was able to keep the maleness of it all under control with constant targeted cleaning and stern reminders and cans of air freshener. But now, with baby J becoming undeniably, increasingly more prototypically male with each passing day and six gawky, grumpy, guffawing teenage boys here every weekday morning, no one has enough estrogen in the world to counteract our slide into Neverland. I keep expecting my living room to start smelling like a gym one day soon. Already I can't keep up with the clutter. Why are boys constitutionally incapable of putting their books in multiple bins provided for just that purpose? And do I look like their maid? Do I look like someone who wants to pick up their empty Gatorade bottles? And why are they drinking Gatorade at 6 in the morning? Do they not see the mat on which they should wipe their feet? How do they manage to get so many leaves attached to them on the short walk from the street to the house? All unanswerable questions, it appears.
One part religion, one part mystery, two parts hormones!
Friday, October 17, 2008
I want the pie in the sky
To begin, your moment of teenage Zen:
Teacher: If you had one wish for the world, what would it be?
Student: I'd wish we all had enough money for everything we need and maybe for a few wants, like a computer.
Teacher: Why not eliminate money entirely?
Student: Well, that would really discourage people who are trying to earn a lot of money.
You can't make this stuff up, people!
In other news, J had swiftly gone from tentative crawling to pulling himself up everywhere to learning to fall down more or less gracefully to standing with only one hand lightly holding onto anything to tentatively "walking" along the coffee table. It's frightening how quickly he's learning and how mobile he's become. It amuses me to no end to see his dad put him down and walk away and watch J twist himself over onto his hands and knees and take off after the husband. It seems as if he's just been waiting to say "No, I want to be WITHYOURIGHTNOW and here I come!"
We also just got back from his 9 month well baby visit (as opposed to the month and a half of sick baby visits that we've just ended). The doctor told us he is off the charts in height, 31 inches, and in the 92nd percentile for weight, 23 pounds 14 ounces. He's proportional in height and weight, and, in fact, she said, he's slim for his height and "that's what we all want, to be tall and thin." Which is exactly what I think when I look at my child, he's sooo skinny!
Teacher: If you had one wish for the world, what would it be?
Student: I'd wish we all had enough money for everything we need and maybe for a few wants, like a computer.
Teacher: Why not eliminate money entirely?
Student: Well, that would really discourage people who are trying to earn a lot of money.
You can't make this stuff up, people!
In other news, J had swiftly gone from tentative crawling to pulling himself up everywhere to learning to fall down more or less gracefully to standing with only one hand lightly holding onto anything to tentatively "walking" along the coffee table. It's frightening how quickly he's learning and how mobile he's become. It amuses me to no end to see his dad put him down and walk away and watch J twist himself over onto his hands and knees and take off after the husband. It seems as if he's just been waiting to say "No, I want to be WITHYOURIGHTNOW and here I come!"
We also just got back from his 9 month well baby visit (as opposed to the month and a half of sick baby visits that we've just ended). The doctor told us he is off the charts in height, 31 inches, and in the 92nd percentile for weight, 23 pounds 14 ounces. He's proportional in height and weight, and, in fact, she said, he's slim for his height and "that's what we all want, to be tall and thin." Which is exactly what I think when I look at my child, he's sooo skinny!
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Teacher, leave those kids alone
Seminary continues apace. We've instituted all sorts of (somewhat kosher) incentive programs to encourage good behavior, like points for thoughtful questions and/or answers or parties for a set period with no tardies. So far, our efforts have been more or less successful, which is good. We've also had parent/teacher conferences with almost all the parents, an unheard of practice for seminary, but I come from the world of secular education, and teenagers are still at an age at which I want to be face to face with their parents once in a while. We also thought that with this particular group of rambunctious boys it would be prudent to be in contact with their parents sooner rather than later to encourage lots of communication back and forth.
The conferences have been illuminating. It's interesting to hear the parents' takes on their son's actions/personalities and to compare those with what we see. I think all the parents were surprised we asked to meet with them but all also seem to have left the meetings feeling like they were worthwhile, which is good.
And now, two moments of teenage Zen:
While discussing the rich young man who asks Jesus "What more can I do?" to which He replies "Give all that thou hath to the poor" (I'm paraphrasing, clearly), one of our students exclaimed fervently "The problem today with giving all you have to the poor is that they're just going to use it to buy drugs!" There are no words.
While discussing which talks they remembered/liked from conference, one boy told me he had missed most of one session because he'd felt sick to his stomach and gone to, ahem, take care of it, but he'd had cheese, so it took about an hour. To ME he said this, in all seriousness, as a point of information. Again, I found myself at a loss for words.
The conferences have been illuminating. It's interesting to hear the parents' takes on their son's actions/personalities and to compare those with what we see. I think all the parents were surprised we asked to meet with them but all also seem to have left the meetings feeling like they were worthwhile, which is good.
And now, two moments of teenage Zen:
While discussing the rich young man who asks Jesus "What more can I do?" to which He replies "Give all that thou hath to the poor" (I'm paraphrasing, clearly), one of our students exclaimed fervently "The problem today with giving all you have to the poor is that they're just going to use it to buy drugs!" There are no words.
While discussing which talks they remembered/liked from conference, one boy told me he had missed most of one session because he'd felt sick to his stomach and gone to, ahem, take care of it, but he'd had cheese, so it took about an hour. To ME he said this, in all seriousness, as a point of information. Again, I found myself at a loss for words.
Saturday, October 04, 2008
I really wanna know
Ahh, the weekend of conference. So restful. Watching the Saturday sessions at home (love the Internets) whilst cleaning and childproofing and dealing with little J's ongoing sinus infection. Trying to put the baby down for a nap without missing too much conference. Missing over an hour anyway. Running out for baby decongestant and wire mesh boxes under which to hide electrical cords while the husband mows the lawn in between sessions. Deciding what to make for the potluck tomorrow based on the ingredients on hand: tuna, pasta, brownie mix, chopped vegetables, lots of pillsbury products, assorted staples and condiments. Putting the baby down early because he's miserable from the sinus infection. (Which we are now treating with antibiotics for the THIRD time. I am losing my faith in modern medicine, people!) Sending the husband off to the third session and falling into bed as soon as possible to rest up for the baby's oncoming rough night.
And then there's Sunday. Prepping food to take in the morning. Baking dessert and cornbread and some sort of pasta salad or veggie appetizer at home in the morning and chopping/assembling as much as possible for tuna casserole so as not to violate the "no cooking in the church kitchen" rule. Packing the pack-n-play in the vain hope that the baby will nap during the session and you won't miss much more. Rushing to assemble pre-made food during breaks in rocking and watching. Setting up for the potluck in between sessions. Stressing that there won't be enough food despite having brought three or four dishes because there will be all those people who will have brought nothing. Thanking your lucky stars for the reliable folks to will bring a lot, too. Cleaning up afterwards. Weighing the pros and cons of staying for the last session or going home, given the baby's sinus woes. Making it through the last session, home or abroad.
All in all, a very spiritual experience, no?
And then there's Sunday. Prepping food to take in the morning. Baking dessert and cornbread and some sort of pasta salad or veggie appetizer at home in the morning and chopping/assembling as much as possible for tuna casserole so as not to violate the "no cooking in the church kitchen" rule. Packing the pack-n-play in the vain hope that the baby will nap during the session and you won't miss much more. Rushing to assemble pre-made food during breaks in rocking and watching. Setting up for the potluck in between sessions. Stressing that there won't be enough food despite having brought three or four dishes because there will be all those people who will have brought nothing. Thanking your lucky stars for the reliable folks to will bring a lot, too. Cleaning up afterwards. Weighing the pros and cons of staying for the last session or going home, given the baby's sinus woes. Making it through the last session, home or abroad.
All in all, a very spiritual experience, no?
Sunday, September 07, 2008
Take it to the limit
Holy Hanna. Or not so much. We've moved on with our lives and learned a few lessons: we need plywood for our windows, most home stores don't stock battery operated fans (seriously? no electricity means no AC, people!), and J complicates imminent disasters, even those that don't materialize, immensely. Check, check, check!
On to new topics: my brother-in-law is participating in Lotoja, a 206 mile bike race from Logan, Utah to Jackson Hole, Wyoming (get it??). In other words, it's a big, long deal. There are support teams involved, for crying out loud! I have a soft spot in my heart for this race, having at one point in my life been close to some cyclists who got me hooked on and interested in all kinds of things like the Tour d'France and insane races in the summer in the West. Not on cycling itself, mind you, because it's way too much work for me, and I don't trust car drivers enough to share the road with them, but it's fun to watch and follow nonetheless.
J is not crawling yet but gets closer daily. We are working on his laziness or impatience: he really would be farther advanced if he didn't caterwaul for one of us to flip him every time he hurled himself onto his stomach (which happens about once every 5 minutes right now.) It's getting old. Not that I'm ready for him to be more mobile or anything, she says as she stares at the tangled, tantalizing mass of computer cords under the desk at which she sits.
Seminary continues with just a short hurricane break on Friday. Today we discussed the Apostles, old and new, and found that the boys have no idea about the names of either. When asked to memorize at least the current set, one boy responded "We have lives, you know!" Umm, you're 15. Not so much. It will take 10 minutes. Deal and move on. I think that will be our biggest lesson for the boys this year: most of the time it's easier just to do what people ask and save yourself the time it takes to complain about it. We've already had the "play nice with others" talk with one of them, and I don't think the rest will be far behind. Fun fun fun!
Summer is winding down, though you wouldn't know if from the temperature. Now comes fall, with some of my favorite activities: the fall TV premieres (yes, I'm a geek; you go ahead and move on, too), the annual Charleston County Public Library book sale (literally thousands upon thousands of books for oh so cheap), the annual Whale of a Sale by the local Junior League (a HUGE garage sale featuring the stuff from little old ladies' houses--finds galore), and the best weather in the country, once it arrives. This year we'll also get to dress J up for Halloween and carve his first pumpkin (which he should love, squash addict that he is) and go to Trunk-or-Treat at the church with an actual child as opposed to just going as kids at heart. Can't wait!
On to new topics: my brother-in-law is participating in Lotoja, a 206 mile bike race from Logan, Utah to Jackson Hole, Wyoming (get it??). In other words, it's a big, long deal. There are support teams involved, for crying out loud! I have a soft spot in my heart for this race, having at one point in my life been close to some cyclists who got me hooked on and interested in all kinds of things like the Tour d'France and insane races in the summer in the West. Not on cycling itself, mind you, because it's way too much work for me, and I don't trust car drivers enough to share the road with them, but it's fun to watch and follow nonetheless.
J is not crawling yet but gets closer daily. We are working on his laziness or impatience: he really would be farther advanced if he didn't caterwaul for one of us to flip him every time he hurled himself onto his stomach (which happens about once every 5 minutes right now.) It's getting old. Not that I'm ready for him to be more mobile or anything, she says as she stares at the tangled, tantalizing mass of computer cords under the desk at which she sits.
Seminary continues with just a short hurricane break on Friday. Today we discussed the Apostles, old and new, and found that the boys have no idea about the names of either. When asked to memorize at least the current set, one boy responded "We have lives, you know!" Umm, you're 15. Not so much. It will take 10 minutes. Deal and move on. I think that will be our biggest lesson for the boys this year: most of the time it's easier just to do what people ask and save yourself the time it takes to complain about it. We've already had the "play nice with others" talk with one of them, and I don't think the rest will be far behind. Fun fun fun!
Summer is winding down, though you wouldn't know if from the temperature. Now comes fall, with some of my favorite activities: the fall TV premieres (yes, I'm a geek; you go ahead and move on, too), the annual Charleston County Public Library book sale (literally thousands upon thousands of books for oh so cheap), the annual Whale of a Sale by the local Junior League (a HUGE garage sale featuring the stuff from little old ladies' houses--finds galore), and the best weather in the country, once it arrives. This year we'll also get to dress J up for Halloween and carve his first pumpkin (which he should love, squash addict that he is) and go to Trunk-or-Treat at the church with an actual child as opposed to just going as kids at heart. Can't wait!
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
All I want is a room somewhere
Tales from the New Testament
1. Discussing the difference between prophesy and prediction:
Teacher: I predict global warming will continue.
Student: I predict Al Gore is a stupid idiot who doesn't know anything.
Teacher (dying a little inside but with a smile): That is neither a prophesy nor a prediction.
2. Trying to bring another discussion to a deeper level:
Teacher: Why do you think I'm pressing you to give me more specific answers?
Student 1: Because you like to hear our voices?
Teacher (sweetly): Actually, no, not as much as you'd think.
Student 2: Well...umm...long pause...umm.......
Baby: YAAAAWWWNNNN.
Teacher: My thoughts exactly.
1. Discussing the difference between prophesy and prediction:
Teacher: I predict global warming will continue.
Student: I predict Al Gore is a stupid idiot who doesn't know anything.
Teacher (dying a little inside but with a smile): That is neither a prophesy nor a prediction.
2. Trying to bring another discussion to a deeper level:
Teacher: Why do you think I'm pressing you to give me more specific answers?
Student 1: Because you like to hear our voices?
Teacher (sweetly): Actually, no, not as much as you'd think.
Student 2: Well...umm...long pause...umm.......
Baby: YAAAAWWWNNNN.
Teacher: My thoughts exactly.
Monday, August 25, 2008
It's been good time together
Family history, as translated by teenage boys:
Student 1: My ancestor fell off the Mayflower and they had to circle around and pick him up.
Student 2: I'm related to every Hatch you meet, even that one guy, Orem Hatch.
Student 3: My ancestor was best friends with that Headless Horseman guy and one day he went over to the Horseman guy's house and he was yelling because he'd poured water on his toe and that's how he went insane and turned into the Headless Horseman.
Student 4: I don't have any stories about my ancestors. (Teacher: What about your grandmother?) She's pretty boring.
Student 5: My family is from Colorado and one of my great grandmothers says she's related to Little Bighorn.
Student 6: In WW2, one of my ancestors was on a ship and he felt rain but he didn't see any rain on the water and there was no rain on the deck and then he looked up and another guy was throwing up above him.
It's going to be a long, adventuresome year!
Student 1: My ancestor fell off the Mayflower and they had to circle around and pick him up.
Student 2: I'm related to every Hatch you meet, even that one guy, Orem Hatch.
Student 3: My ancestor was best friends with that Headless Horseman guy and one day he went over to the Horseman guy's house and he was yelling because he'd poured water on his toe and that's how he went insane and turned into the Headless Horseman.
Student 4: I don't have any stories about my ancestors. (Teacher: What about your grandmother?) She's pretty boring.
Student 5: My family is from Colorado and one of my great grandmothers says she's related to Little Bighorn.
Student 6: In WW2, one of my ancestors was on a ship and he felt rain but he didn't see any rain on the water and there was no rain on the deck and then he looked up and another guy was throwing up above him.
It's going to be a long, adventuresome year!
Friday, August 22, 2008
Early to bed, early to rise
I have no more words left to describe how awful my latest interactions with AT&T. It was awful. They hung up on me. I yelled. It wasn't pretty.
But it's all over now; the internet is safely restored; and I am back posting regular updates on my fabulous life. Or something.
So, what's happened in the interim? Well, we began co-teaching seminary (early morning Bible study) to 6 teenage boys. And it's actually been great. These boys' parents were worried about them being all together, but I was pretty sure the earliness of the hour would put a damper on any potential hormonal hi-jinx, and, so far, I've been right. They are chatty and trying to be funny most of the time, of course, but that's a function of their age and nothing that's any different from the sorts of things their 18 year old counterparts would do in my college classes. Actually, in my (admittedly limited) experience once boys hit about 14 there seems to be a long time where they stay pretty much the same, until 18 or 19, when there is this big surge of developing maturity that lasts another several years. And having the husband as a co-teacher is great, because all the boys think he's funny and cool (though he begs to differ), and he can be the hammer when necessary.
Out system involves trading off teaching and watching J who attends class as long as he can avoid being too disruptive, at which point he is whisked away by whomever is responsible for him that day. Watching J also involves getting him up, changed, and fed breakfast before class while that day's teacher finishes last minute prep. We're covering the New Testament this year, which will be fun, though the synoptic gospels pose a challenge since they repeat themselves and we are to cover the material in the order presented in the Bible rather than more chronologically. But this is a small issue, and things look good otherwise.
After seminary, we go walking (J and I and the stroller) or running (the husband), so by the time 8am rolls around, we've eaten, taught, exercised, and put J down for a morning nap. Which also means by the time 9pm-ish rolls around, we are wasted and in bed. We should be extremely healthy, wealthy, and wise by the time this year is over!
But it's all over now; the internet is safely restored; and I am back posting regular updates on my fabulous life. Or something.
So, what's happened in the interim? Well, we began co-teaching seminary (early morning Bible study) to 6 teenage boys. And it's actually been great. These boys' parents were worried about them being all together, but I was pretty sure the earliness of the hour would put a damper on any potential hormonal hi-jinx, and, so far, I've been right. They are chatty and trying to be funny most of the time, of course, but that's a function of their age and nothing that's any different from the sorts of things their 18 year old counterparts would do in my college classes. Actually, in my (admittedly limited) experience once boys hit about 14 there seems to be a long time where they stay pretty much the same, until 18 or 19, when there is this big surge of developing maturity that lasts another several years. And having the husband as a co-teacher is great, because all the boys think he's funny and cool (though he begs to differ), and he can be the hammer when necessary.
Out system involves trading off teaching and watching J who attends class as long as he can avoid being too disruptive, at which point he is whisked away by whomever is responsible for him that day. Watching J also involves getting him up, changed, and fed breakfast before class while that day's teacher finishes last minute prep. We're covering the New Testament this year, which will be fun, though the synoptic gospels pose a challenge since they repeat themselves and we are to cover the material in the order presented in the Bible rather than more chronologically. But this is a small issue, and things look good otherwise.
After seminary, we go walking (J and I and the stroller) or running (the husband), so by the time 8am rolls around, we've eaten, taught, exercised, and put J down for a morning nap. Which also means by the time 9pm-ish rolls around, we are wasted and in bed. We should be extremely healthy, wealthy, and wise by the time this year is over!
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