Adina’s Cute & Perky Blog!

I hated her in the worst way. She was my fourth grade science teacher.

She got on to this one boy about picking his nose, and I am sure he is still not over it to this day! It was traumatic, y’all. I swear it was.

But that wasn’t the reason I hated her.

No. It went far deeper than that boy’s finger.

She would not give one hundreds. No matter how good your paper was, you got a ninety-nine. A big, red ninety-nine in a big red circle.

To a shy fourth grader, this was nonsense. Utter madness.

No matter how hard you studied, you could not break the magical ceiling of ninety-nine.

She was old. I’m sure she taught for fifty years.

You could beg, you could plead, you could flick a booger on her, but the reply was always the same, ‘Nobody is perfect. There are no perfect papers. If I had time to look, I’m sure I could find something wrong. An ‘I’ not dotted. A ‘T’ not crossed. Nobody is perfect. Only Jesus.”

Now how do you argue with that? She played the Jesus card. As our teacher she already held a hand full of aces, but she had to go and say that.

As a fourth grader in the Bible Belt of America, that argument could stop a girl cold, y’all! I ain’t even playing!

Oh, it was a good lesson…the whole concept that nobody is perfect.

But it was a lesson I was not ready to learn in fourth grade science class.

It would be a few years later before I would be ready for that one…or, well maybe a few decades later!!

And it would be that damned one hundred again. Only this time the one hundred in question was how much I needed to lose, and Mrs. Hudson had no control over it. I held all the cards, even the Jesus one!

It was a daunting number to face.

So I made a plan to lose it over the course of a year. Ten pounds a month. That sounded reasonable to me.

Right?

But often what sounds reasonable is not exactly feasible. And for me to lose that much in a year just wasn’t.

I made a chart.

I drew one hundred empty circles.

I thought it would be fun to color one in every time I lost a pound.

But I made no plan for when perfection was not reached.

I made ten pounds the first month plus some.

The second month I barely scraped by, and that was only because the two months together made twenty.

And I wasn’t ready for that third month when perfection was not achieved.

I recalculated what I would have to do to make it in a year.

For some reason that was important to me.

But attempt after attempt failed because I refused to face the inevitable.

I cannot lose one hundred pounds in a year.

When I decided to try one more time, I made no charts, no graphs, no time frame plan of any kind.

I decided that at least getting a few poundsoff was better than none. Believe it or not, I had no ultimate goal. I just wanted to get under 200 pounds and at least make it to a size sixteen.

And it’s amazing what can happen when you let go of perfection.

Although I had not made a chart full of little circles, I was making a life full of them. Coloring them in one circle at a time.

It took me two years to lose, and a lot can happen in two years.

If I had kept that chart, I would have colored in so much more than numbers.

I would have colored in circles for facing my fear of the gym, letting go of what hurts me, jogging a mile without stopping, entering a 5K race….

And you know what?

There were WAY more than a hundred circles to fill. I needed more than a year. I had a lot to work on.

Although the numbers seemed to portray that I could do it in a year, the life lessons did not.

I learned one of the biggest lessons while stuck at 203 pounds for three months. No circles colored for pounds lost, but certainly circles colored for sticking it out no matter what and willpower!

And in the end, Mrs. Hudson was right.

Nobody is perfect.

Whether we set out with a goal to compete, lose, write, race, make a film….whatever it is, the journey there will not be perfect.

But if the journey was always perfect, no life lessons would be learned…and that boy would still be picking his nose. And I’m glad he doesn’t pick his nose, y’all. No one really needs to do that. Not in public, anyway.

God rest Mrs. Hudson’s non-perfect soul!

Mean Girls.

Yes. We watched it.

While you would like to think I was off writing my Blog, answering my E-mails, being a mom, or doing something deeply moving, I wasn’t.

I was watching Mean Girls with a grown man.

Now, we did stop and discuss what color hair Lindsey Lohan looks better with.

Oh, and we both think she’s too thin now.

And I told him how I like people with freckles. Especially guys.

So, there was some deep, meaningful conversation going on, I can assure you.

The thing is, we were watching it on TV. We have a favorite quote from this movie, but we did not figure we would get to hear it.

Being on regular TV, we thought it would be bleeped out.

Oh, yes. The quote is that bad.

But it’s our favorite.

We say it.

We text it.

We torture people who have not seen the movie with it.

The big gym scene came, and we were braced for them to skip right on over it.

Stuart looked up at me as the moment got closer,rubbing his hands together, “It’s coming!”

“They won’t say it.”

“I know it, but it’s still time for it!”

The moment came…and…

They didn’t bleep it!

And we fell out laughing.

Now, I’m not being symbolic here.

We actually did fall out.

Neither one of us was in the upright position any longer.

We just weren’t prepared for it.

I was in a balled up fetal position, snorting.

Yes, I said snorting.

He had his head on the arm of the couch, and there were tears streaming down his face.

Looking up at each other only made it worse, because by then I was crying AND snorting.

And for the next ten minutes I had to fight off little uncontrollable spasms of laughter.

And if I even looked at Stuart, we would just break down again.

It’s funny that we had seen it and said it a million times, but that didn’t lessen our enjoyment.

Each day doesn’t bring an opportunity to try something new, but each day does come with an opportunity to look at the same old thing in a different light.

I can’t really tell you why.

He had to walk over rocks…and sticks…and stickers to get to my car. You would think this necessitates shoes, but putting them on just wasn’t worth the effort for him.

Oh, he had them.

They were in his hands, so we put them in the trunk.

You know, it was late, and he would have had to untie them to put them on.

See…trouble!

Midway home, he springs the news on me that he needs a disposable camera for the very next day.

Church camp.

Now, this is not a big deal. I want him to have fun and take pictures. Gives me more fun things to write about and yes, I know, more therapy to pay for in the future!

But it’s 9:30PM in a town that shuts down tight at 9:00! If you have a hankering for something after 9:00, you best go on to bed!

Oh, yeah.

And I’m in a swimsuit. I forgot to mention that, didn’t I?

But, you know…it was just too much trouble to put my dry clothes on. I was just going to run pick Jonah up from his dad’s.

And of course, Jonah’s step brother comes out helping him carry his bag for camp.

And there I stand, in all my swimsuit glory!

At least it’s one of those good ones that holds everything in. It works better than sucking in and holding your breath at the same time!

Y’all. I ain’t gonna lie. It’s the best swimsuit ever made!

So, anyway…

We pull into a gas station. Our only chance of getting a camera. As I put the car in park, I say, “Jonah, run in and see if they have one.”

“Have what?”

“A CAM-ER-A?!”

“Mom! I don’t have shoes on!”

Amazingly he was able to walk through grass, sticks, and all things of nature a few minutes earlier, but this he cannot do.

So it’s my job, as his mom, to snap him into reality.

“Jonah. I’m in a swimsuit. Do you REALLY want me to go in there?”

Sadly, I would have, y’all! I have no shame.

But I just had to laugh when he looks at me in utter panic and says, “What are we going to do? Should we wait until the morning?”

And…OK. We were to be at the church at 5:30 in the morning. Mama ain’t getting up early enough to grab a camera on the way.

So I take off my flip flops and say, “Here. Wear these. They’re unisex.”

And y’all. They weren’t.

He knew it, and so did I.

And I did feel bad when I peered through the window at him. I just said a quick Dear-God-please-don’t-let-them-look-at-his
-feet prayer.

He comes back out with news that is both good and bad.

They have one.

But I pay with my debit card, I’m still in a swimsuit, and Jonah has my shoes on. I’m going to have to call that one 0 for 3.

And he’s just standing there looking at me.

So I go to the trunk and get my contingency workout pants from the car. By contingency I mean, in case there are no pants any other place in the free western world that fit and are clean and I MUST exercise right that very second.

And so, in the parking lot of the gas station I put those nasty pants that have seen not better days, but better years, over my swimsuit.

And no, they did not match in any way, shape, or form.

And of course, next I have to tell Jonah to take off my unisex flip-flops!

They go from his feet to mine. He is once again barefoot.

God love him, in complete bewilderment he utters, “Now what do I do?”

“Well. If it were me, I’d sit in the car, lock the doors, and hunker down really low in case someone you know drives by and sees your mother dressing in front of the gas station.”

The color drains from his face, and he does just that. I mean to tell you he hunkered low!

And offering no explanation to the attendant, I walk in with my head held high and bought the camera!

All of this brought about because I was too lazy to put on my dry clothes, and Jonah too lazy to put on his shoes.

So whatever you think you are too lazy to do today, just do it.

Do it, or you’ll end up barefoot at the gas station with a swimsuit on.

And there really are no winners there.

Y’all thought I forgot those chicken stories, but I did not…thank you very much!!!

Jonah goes to his dad’s house most days to feed and check on the chickens.

We have one more since I wrote about them last. His or her name is Doty. We can’t tell yet. And since Kevin is a girl, and Andrea is a boy…well, it’s probably a boy!

It stormed here in Texas the other night.

I didn’t hear it. I just knew it because when I woke up I could tell there had been one.

And according to Jonah, it was a BAD one. A worry-about-your-chickens bad one!

He woke up earlier than usual, and informed me he had had a terrible nights rest.

“Mama, I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“Why? What was on your mind, son?”

“I was worried about my chickens. I was worried their dog house turned over in the storm.”

Yes, the chickens live in a dog house.

Now, it’s a modified dog house, but it’s a dog house nonetheless!

Or domicile recycling as I like to call it.

But my Jonah had such a look of worry on him that I had to fuss a little bit.

“Jonah! Why didn’t you wake me up? That’s what moms are for! To be with you when you’re scared or worried.”

And this is what he said…. I swear it, y’all!

“I didn’t want to wake you, because you looked so peaceful.”

OK…… AWWWWW!!!

So in my now weepy state, I was reminded how I used to rock him to sleep singing the same little chorus over and over again until he nodded off in my arms.

I’ll love you forever.
I’ll like you for always.
As long as I’m living,
My baby you’ll be.

And even though he’s only 13, he switched over for a moment. He took care of me by letting me rest.

But at some point we all have to switch over and reverse the rolls.

I can’t approach healthy living like a baby all my life.

At some point, I have to reverse the rolls.

Someone taught me how to eat one time, but I can’t expect them to call me on a daily basis and tell me exactly what to eat every day, every meal! That’s crazy!

Someone taught me how to lift. At some point I had to let go of his hand and plan my own workouts. He even told me one time when he walked across the gym to correct my form, “What do you want me to do? Spoon feed you?!”

Of course not!

Babies were meant to grow up….even babies in fitness.

While it’s hard to let go sometimes, you can sure go a lot farther when you do.

I mean a REAL smile.

Uncontained joy.

I took Micah to get his drivers permit on Friday.

I knew he would pass the test, but of course he had his doubts.

We like to tease and have fun at our house, so I expected him to emerge from the room with the look of failure. I figured he would tell me he failed, then pull his permit from behind his back.

But I was wrong.

The child emerged with the biggest smile I have ever seen on him!

No, really! I mean he was grinning from ear to ear.

He couldn’t pull off a fake failure if he tried!

And my heart melted to see him smile like that.

Don’t we live to see those moments of joy of the faces of the people we love?

I was weepy, or course.

It’s hard to give those babies over!

And of course moments like that make you think back…

I remembered the first time he drove.

We were on our way back from visiting my grandmother in Nebraska.

In a no-time-like-the-present moment, I decided to pull over and let him drive for the first time.

“Mama, no! I can’t do that!”

“Yes, you can, son. Get in.”

And in great fear and trepidation, he got behind the wheel.

Through the months it got easier.

He soon asked to drive…all the time!

And of course he had to listen to my driving rules and lessons like, oh, a thousand times!!!

Everything building to the day of the test.

He studied all day that morning, and asked numerous times, “What would you say if I failed?”

“I’m not worried about that.”

“But what would I tell my dad? Would I have to tell him?”

“I’m not worried about that either.”

“Why?”

“Because we’ve prepared for this moment. You’re ready.”

And twenty minutes later, with permit it tow, we headed to the car where he could drive legally for the first time.

He didn’t know when he faced his fear and got behind the wheel that first time where he was headed.

He just knew he conquered a fear.

And like with so many other things in life…

Conquered fear leads to joy!

And oh the places he’ll go!

Thursday was Spelling test day.

I had one glass labeled as “gifted.”

They used to make sport of pulling the dictionary out and trying to find words that I did not know.

You see, words are my thing. I always have a dictionary at the ready. I have Word of the Day calendars at home and at work. My favorite books are books on words, and dictionary.com is my home page.

Truly, I have a love for words.

I quite often made my students learn new words from my calendar with me. They found it both irritating and funny that I made it a habit to learn one new word a day.

Armed with their arsenal of new words, they thought that I could not stump them.

So, they asked me for some bonus points on the next spelling test.

So I said, “OK. Dictation.”

And remember, they were the gifted class…

We made rules and agreed on them. No weird words from my calendar.

The day of the test came, and they were ready…or so they thought.

The test concluded and twenty-five papers flipped to the back without my ever asking them to.

“OK class. One sentence. All or nothing. Ten bonus points at stake.”

Papers shuffled. Butts wiggled. Nerds high-fived.

Until the sentence fell from my mouth…

“Arnold Schwarzenegger stared in Kindergarten Cop.”

Even the nerds were not happy.

So many things I could zap then with here . The sentence was rife with chances for 8th grade errors!

And the whining continued.

OK… I’ve got a plan . You can choose between the sentence I just read or a second one. But… should you choose the second one, five bonus points, max.

They agreed, as I read the sentence, “Nadia Comaneci was a famous Romanian gymnast.”

MS. STEWART!!!

Even the best of the best had THE LOOK.

But of course, I had been prepared for this.

I walked quietly to my desk and grabbed three photos.

The first picture showed a woman who had been burned over 95% of her body. The second showed a boy with three prosthetic limbs where two legs and one arm used to be. The third showed a picture of someone sitting in an AA Meeting.

“All three lives touched by the same addiction. Three very different outcomes. The woman was hit by someone who didn’t make it to one of those meetings.”

You could have heard a pin drop.

“Sometimes, life is just not fair. But you still need to pick one of those sentences and give it your best effort.”

No words were spoken as the tests were turned in. None at all.

Nor were there any spoken when I handed the graded papers back out the next day, and each child had received ten bonus points.

But the lesson was the same. It was the same one from the day before.

“Sometimes, life is not fair.

It’s not fair to the students across the hall that you got bonus points for nothing.

It’s just that sometimes you’re on the good end of the not fair stick, and sometimes you’re on the bad.

Either way, life isn’t fair.”

And yeah, they groaned when the assignment directly after that was to write a paragraph about life not being fair.

But that’s what they get for not knowing how to spell Arnold’s last name, y’all! That’s just what they get!!!

Certainly by now my children know this.

Weekly I hear the phrase, “Other moms just aren’t like you.”

But every once in a while, I catch even the ones who know me best off guard.

I had left something at work the other day, and Micah came in with me to get it.

He took one look at my desk and cried out, “Mom!”

“What?”

“You didn’t give it to him?”

“HUH? Oh. No. That wasn’t for him.”

“You bought a mug while we were on vacation with someone else’s name on it, and you didn’t give it to him?

“It was never for him. It was for me. It makes me happy.”

“But you’re supposed to give it to him.”

“Not when it makes me this happy. It makes me smile every morning when I drink my coffee.”

“I don’t get you, Mom.”

“You’re a teenager, son. If you did, something just wouldn’t be right.”

You see, we had been souvenir shopping, and he assumed I was getting the coffee mug with someone else’s name on it for someone else.

But I was getting it for me.

That’s what he gets for assuming!

Anyway…

It’s hard to be motivated when you aren’t happy.

And as simple as it sounds, starting my work day off drinking coffee out of a giant, cheesy mug with the name of the sexiest man in the world and a big, glaring LAS VEGAS decal staring back at me, makes me happy!

Happy at work, means happy after work.

And leaving work in a good mood makes it all the more easy to head straight to the gym for lifting.

It’s amazing how the little things we can do to lift our spirits throughout the day can lead to better lifting later in the day.

Because before I can lift that first weight, I have to lift my spirits enough to lift my booty off the couch!!!

And for me it all begins with a mug and a smile.

Oh…and he does NOT know I have this mug. So, y’all do not tell him!!! He would roll his eyes for sure!

It’ll be our little secret!

My coworker had emergency surgery, so we were unprepared for her absence.

The week prior, she was on vacation. Vacations you prepare for. We had someone there every day. With the surgery, we just weren’t ready.

I kept telling everyone I was fine, but I got daily check-up calls from our home office. They didn’t like a woman being alone.

But I made it through the week just fine.

Until that last day. That last day gets you every time, y’all!

A customer came in, and I took a payment.

A normal transaction I assumed.

As the customer left, my bedridden coworker called to check on me.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Just took a payment.”

“Who for?”

I told her the name, and she gasped.

“Oh, Adina. I’m so sorry you were alone when he came in. Are you OK?”

“I’m fine! He was just making a payment.”

“Adina! Do you NOT remember him from last time?”

“Uhm. No. Evidently not.”

“He came in drunk and threatened you.”

“Now, Kitty. Surely I would remember the face? That cannot be him.”

“I’m telling you Adina, it is.”

She hung up after making me promise to stay locked in tight. And I’m pretty sure I heard her curse as she hung up the phone.

I looked up the account and sure enough, that was him. The notes were there. My own notes.

I thought about it for a long time that afternoon.

How could I not remember the face of someone who had been that unkind to me?

I mean, I know seeing the perky side of things is my forte. This is where I dwell.

But this?

This is odd even for me.

As I read the notes, I remembered the smell of his breath, and the words that he said. I remembered the invisible wall of professional distance he had encroached upon and gotten all too close.

So…

How did I not remember THIS face?

The answer is simple. I chose not to, without even knowing it.

I didn’t make him the subject of my Blog the next day, although it would have made for a captivating read.

I did not call anyone at the home office. I simply notated the account. My coworker only knew because she was there.

I did not even E-mail my friend who I tell everything.

And I remember doing these things because I didn’t want that to be my first thought of the day for the next few weeks.

I knew people would E-mail or call, and that would be my first working thought of the day. Every day. For at least a week.

But there is a protective wall and a locked door between me and anyone who walks in. While the situation was annoying, I never truly feared for my safety. So I saw no need to dwell on it.

And I learned something…

When you don’t dwell in the negative, each day really is a new day!