Sincerely yours, me again

I have been laying in bed now for the past hour trying, willing, pleading with my head to turn off so I could go to sleep.  Obviously, I have failed.  I decided, I would try the old method, one I had spent most of the afternoon 'researching' and reacquainting myself with: journaling.

From the age of 8 through 23 I kept a fairly consistent nightly journal.  Through the years I gave different journals names.  I called them my only friend and confidant.  I finally got the the habitual point that would not allow me to go to sleep without first laying the day to rest in textual format.   I say I was 'researching' this afternoon as I was browsing selectively through my journals for references to my sense of identity and family.  I will be drafting an 18 page paper tomorrow that deals with that subject, in which I get to be one of my own research subjects - that is, the past me.

The research brain in me was fascinated with seeing how my writing and voice developed overtime.  There were elements of my writing style which have never changed - that flow of consciousness that is playful and teasing.  Yet there were structural elements that I tinkered with - I can read now how I was intentionally moulding a literate voice full of phrases and terminology that expanded and contracted with my idea of what a good writer was.  Being  literary person really manipulated even my very personal writing.

Beyond the interest in textuality, which I did get past, I began to sink into the ebb and flow over the years of self-doubt, depression, and confidence that I still struggle with now.  I was impressed by the constant struggle with conscious self and mortality.  My thoughts and feelings so often were in contest.  My desires were strong, perhaps the flesh was weak.  I still feel that struggle.  Even looking back at myself from that third-person reader stance, I feel empathy for my own self.  Still, my desires overshoot my behaviors.  I want so much to become that living seems to get in the way.  The massive hurdles of priority and balance, coupled so closely together, often trip me up.  As evident in this past week.

I have been feeling the mounting pressure of the end of semester.  Yet, at the same time, a lot of momentum is building in our family as well.  Pressured by our sellers, we moved our home signing up to Wednesday.  I had not anticipated this large chunk of time devoted to a new house.  On Tuesday the kids got out of school at half day, which meant that I had the remainder of a very important week needing to be devoted to motherhood rather than student work.  I coiled the student-self spring tight inside my chest telling myself I could let it release at certain times when the family did not need me to do some powerful school work.  The coil is still cocked and I am near crazy!

Since the kids got out of school Tuesday half-day, and it was Grandparents day at school, I stayed at the school to help with the event and visit in the kids' classrooms to avoid 2 hours of driving for 2 hours at home.  We had barely recouped from a very stimulating half-day at school when it was the usual racecar rally to various lessons: Faith and Viv start lessons at 4pm, then Danny and I pick up Viv at 5:30, then swing around to pick up Faith by 5:45, come home for quick nacho dinner then all are back in the car to take Danny back to 6:30 tap lessons.  It is a regular Tuesday after school relay in order to clear up other afternoons of the week.  Of course, no school work was fit into that schedule.

Wednesday the house signing went lonnnng.  I then had to take the kids to Grabill for piano lessons since their teachers' car was broken.  We got home around 2pm and had a lot of housework to accomplish.  I want to believe I was productive with all my time that afternoon, but the state of my stress from the coiled spring inside and unexpected timeline shift and sent me into an anxious shock.  I felt good getting a couple layers on the rainbow Jello and watching a movie with the kids.

Thursday Josh was home with us.  He was home with us all weekend.  His presence at home is wonderful.  It was a stay-cation, time devoted to family.  We all chipped in to make a Thanksgiving meal that was delicious, although void of enthusiasm.  I didn't care to invite people over for the meal knowing my emotional instability of late and I missed the family traditions of old.  We at and then digested to "A Muppet Christmas Carol."  Unfortunately, at some point during dinner preparations, we clogged the kitchen sink which made Thanksgiving dishes linger....and linger....and linger...

Friday we got to go to our new home, which is purchased but not yet ready to be lived in, to visualize what life will be like when we move in 21 days from now.  It was Josh's first time in the home.  The sellers took the time to show us the quirks of the home and then left us to measuring and musing.  It took the majority of the afternoon.  We made a quick stop at Lowe's for some boxes to pack away the wall hangings that Josh and I had been pulling off the walls at our current home.  The weekend was devoted to patching walls and painting them to an untouched glory.  After a discussion with the sellers, Josh and I made a very late night decision to do some late night Black Friday shopping to help Santa bring a TV to our family for the first time.

Saturday we waited anxiously for a plumber to finally free the kitchen pipes, which did not happen until late afternoon.  During the morning's frustration we managed to get the Christmas decorations in place to welcome the holiday cheer into this home for one final (to be cut short) season.  Our enthusiasm for preparing for he new  home occupied our spare thoughts, considering these three precious days were the seldom few Josh and I had to discuss ideas and purchases in real time.  We made a fast trip to a furniture store to verify that online prices were better and made it home to more online shopping.  Rugs, rugs, rugs!  It becomes a problem when there really are too many choices.  I became frustrated by Sunday afternoon that we did not close the deal and move on.  I mentally do not have any more time to devote to the new home or Christmas shopping from now until Dec 17th.

Oh boy.  That brings us full circle.  I am in a position recorded through my own history as all too familiar.  I would like to believe that I have trained myself out of procrastination somewhat over the years.  Somewhat.  Yet the last minute pressures still mandate a lot of my writing.  I have learned to do my research and brainstorming well in advanced.  Just the writing.  Thus, I lay in bed tonight trying to memorize the full and complete paragraphs for three different compositions that came began drafting in the crowded space right behind my closed eyelids.  I tried to force them back behind the curtains in order to relax.  I remembered my mother's words "at least let your body rest," as I continued motionless under the covers will my brain was doing gymnastics of all sorts.

I began to pray.  Many nights I have spoken softly with God, allowing Him to help me sort through the various thoughts and laying my burdens and trust at His feet for one more night.  Tonight I remained distracted and in all desperation, unfolded myself from the warm sheets and came back to the computer screen.  If nothing else, staring at a computer screen will unavoidably will me fall asleep.  With eyes throbbing and head pulsing, my body is finally ready to give up for the night, and perhaps, thanks to SKATALAT, the 1995 named version of journal writing, I can let my mind rest as well.

Puppets, purchases, and papers

This is the season when all the wheels start spinning, faster, and Faster, and FASTER! Until I no longer have control.  On various days, I choose to give up. On those days, I find myself finding every excuse possible not to shower, exercise, or make progress on massive pending papers.

Yes, it is the end of a semester.  I hate deadlines.  How I have enjoyed learning and researching for 14 weeks, and then the last two it feels like sirens are going off constantly, forcing me to make cognizant sense out of all the knowledgeable stuff in my head.  Bleh.  It is not that I don't want to articulate my passionate feelings about how families shape identities and how family history writing can and should evolve in order to tell the smaller stories that shape a nation.  I really do want to articulate it all; can't we just have a long conversation instead?  Nope.  That would not be as well organized.  I get it.  Please pass the chocolate chips.

The research has been fascinating.  Thanks to the Church of Jesus Christ, we not only have the amazing free FamilyTree.org to work with, we have been given a membership to Ancestry.com.  We have been connecting with family members that we didn't even know we had in order to fill in some blanks in the family legacy.  Check out these gems:

This is the army registration card for Josh's great-grandfather, filled out in his own handwriting!  We had been trying to verify whether or not James fought in WW1.  We know he registered from this, and then....

Here is the application for military burial, which assumes that he did serve active duty.  There are still some mysteries in between, such as where and when, but we have the beginning and the end!  No, James did not die in the war, he died after a poker fight somewhere in Oregon (yet another story we are trying to clarify).

The personal connection to my research material (that is my research revolves around how family history work illuminates family trends, identity markers, and can change the way family identifies themselves) has made it so very worthwhile.  I have already started a couple spinoff projects.  It just feels like there is never enough ways to present the information as they extend into so many spheres.

As part of my physical goals this year, I am trying to be as aware of my body and its reactions to stress as possible.  I like stress, it motivates me on one hand.  On the other hand, it ties my muscles into searing knots that eventually separate from my spine and I collapse in an exhausted heap.  As one might imagine, end of semester is a constant tango between stress collapse and productivity.  In the meantime, I am trying to stay relaxed by adding more....enjoyable...distractions outside of academia.  So we have decided to buy a new home, rent our current home, and be committee chair on the annual school fundraiser.

Our current home cleans up nice. Thanks to the new category of 'shabby chic' all our crappy furniture is stylish.  With much gratitude, we already have renter lined up to move in just as we move out.

The new place will be fantastic.  We have been praying and looking for another house that would put us closer to the kids' school and give us a great yard in a good neighborhood.  God is gracious and does hear our prayers.  In our home search, I found this home listed on a Thursday night, I went with the kids on Saturday to see it, we put in the offer Saturday night, Sunday morning we had an accepted offer.

 We sign the first part of December and will move in the week of Christmas.  What a dream!  True to our form, Josh has not yet been inside this home much like our last two houses we have purchased without him having walked through.  I think it is a good luck charm.

To relax in the evening...

 making felt puppets for Viv's class, our contribution to fundraising along with my time spent planning the event.  Honestly, I am so grateful for a creative outlet right now that does not involve the creation or consumption of text.  We, yes Josh is helping me, the entire cast of animal characters for two Jan Brett books "The Mitten" and "The Hat."  more to come on that....

Making our own history

I am glad for the small moments that remind me to take stock of how far we have progressed.  Two projects have been turning my head around and around the concept of making history:

1- Our kids are working on their "personal history" unit at school.  For 1st years (Danny and Viv) they have to bring in photos with descriptions to make a timeline of their life thus far.  Due to the giant hard drive crash of 2013, I have to search through this blog to find photos of the kiddos from 2011-2013.  It reminds me again, that I need to print this thing out so the kids and I can read through those small vignettes that I had wisdom and energy enough to record.  It does go quickly, and I don't remember it all.  Jill and I were talking about the memory processes of small children - only remembering based on photos - I feel I am the same way.  It seems that if it weren't for textual remnants of the past, I might just forget it.  Faith's personal history project is working on a family tree, which is precisely what we are always working on.


2- I have been continuing the archival research for Alonzo Price Bowman through this semester as part of my course work.  I have been developing projects around the historical timeline of his life.  Turns out, Grandpa Alonzo lived through some of the big markers of American History.  The first wave of the project was to create a fully public domain multi-media presentation.  I tracked the first 20 years of Grandpa's life, and here are the highlights:

I just proposed the final project for Grandpa's Life which will include a rhetorical framework to show how it is the small lives that weave into the big histories without which the fibers of our nation would unravel (oh how poetic).

LaFoo, I'm afraid I've been thinking....

While driving, daily, to kids school, from kids school, to my school, home again, I have taken to driving with my thoughts as passenger. A dangerous pastime, I know.

Luckily my mind is in a positive spot to talk with me and the dialogue has been helpful. Here is what we have concluded:

I really love Viv.  October is a month that used to be about Josh and I and our wedding, but now with Viv being nearly 7, it is even more about Viv than it was four years ago when she took over the month by storm.  Viv's birthday is in....2 days.  She turns 7.  She is still so small and learning so much, I don't accept it well, but I enjoy her so very much.  In conversation with other mothers recently they commented on the perfect family: one boy child one girl.  We had that with Faith and Danny but it wasn't a perfect family.  I haven't recognized as much as I ought how perfectly Viv fits in this family.  She is celebrating 4 years in our family, 2 years fully adopted, and a Halloween that isn't scary to any of us.  I love her intensely.  She is the drama in my life - the type that you see in good movies that makes your heart leap and twist and turn and sigh.  SO AMAZING!!  You should see her joy and perseverance every day. I love her.  I love her.

I love all my family.  Family in all sorts of ways.  I am fighting academically right now to recognize the struggles that we go through within families as significant as a 'master narrative.'  Why do I need society on the outside too?  I have a future with fighting in this arena - families are communities.  Families are where identity starts and ends.  Self is represented in all sorts of social contexts but it is permanently influenced by family. I just gotta get more serious about writing out all these thoughts.

I don't like being told no.  If it is for my safety, say no.  Otherwise, don't limit me.  Don't tell me I can't have it, or become that, or dream it.  Don't tell me that.  I've been constrained enough.  If God wants me to reach my full potential, who are you to tell me I don't have it in me?  Give me a chance, and don't underestimate what I can do.  I am amazing.  And so are you; so take your own advice.

Life is about choices. We all make them and I would argue when know when we are making them. We way the cost and then we just go for it.  I have a a pretty strong base for the choices I make but still find myself calling myself into question sometimes.  I make mistakes.  I am okay with that.  I am not rationalizing when I make my choices or evaluate the choices I have made.

I am in charge of my own body.  I don't like pharmaceuticals.  They make my brain not my own.  If I can't communicate clearly with my brain, I'm in trouble.  I have physical limitations; it is really hard to hurt.  Hurting is not all bad as long as I am comfortable mentally.  Always good to feed the body and the mind and make connections with people.

Okay.  I was hoping that I could get the writing juices going because I need write a dialogue paper in the next hour and a half.  So here's my non-academic voice, at least I can use that in the upcoming paper....

Autumn comes with the traditional

There are certain events that indicate Fall in Indiana for our family, and it seems they all came and passed this month.  We had Grammie visiting for the welcoming festivities of fall: apple picking.  Our friend's tree that we pillaged for fee last year was on an off year so we had to go to a 'commercial' local apple orchard to pick.  The name of this orchard gave us many laughs: "Tree Technology."  Yep, that's new technology - getting small kids with baskets on a stick to pick apples.Josh, the kids, Grammie and Aunt Jill picked 5 bushels of apples that we processed within that week to have plenty of applesauce and apple pie slices all through the winter.  The kids are always involved with smooshing the apples through the Victorio Strainer or twisting the peeler/corer/slicer, which makes the process move swiftly.

When the apples are on, we also know it is time to honor the man who gave us all this lovely harvest: Johnny Appleseed.  Fort Wayne claims the burial of Johnny.  We have a gravesite, although I am not certain, with many other claimants on to Johnny's burial, if the site is not just a relic containing maybe teeth or other random bones.  Ether way, all the community gathers for the fantastic festival in his park and celebrate the handiwork of many who still create without technology (ha, tree technology orchard).  Each year we heard the kids past the vendors to the settler's area and learn some new skills.  This year's skills were:  clay wheel pottery, woodworking (mostly for Josh who still dreams that he will have a wood shop some day), wood carving, copper smithing, and tinkering. 

This fella gave the kids a bit of a science lesson by carving back the stick and then pulling out the worms that were the cause of the great maple to fall.  Josh admired the lacquering.

Because it was the very end of the day the tinkers let the kids play with all sorts of machines and gave them lots of tin trinkets to play with.  They gave the kids a math lesson as to why you need to know geomotrey. 

 Another fall time favorite - the annual Fort4Fit race.  This year we worked with the kids through the end of the summer to run 25 miles, all building up to the Kids Marathon for Fort4Fit.  The kids had gotten the racing bug when we did the Spartan Race in the spring and were mostly willing to do the training.  We were amazed by how well they did on the actual race night!  With Jill, we had one adult per child to run with the kids during the mile long course.  Viv ran hard with Jill, Faith stayed consistent and long strided with her dad, and I ran with Danny.  I was most impressed with Danny.  Throughout the summer he was the least enthused about continuous running; often stopping with side aches.  However, for the race, Danny kept a steady jog the whole time.  We talked about Captain America, of course, to pass the second half mile and he made it the whole way without walking!  All three were so happy to have their medals!  It is so nice to have this family friendly race so close to our home, it is really too easy to do I would be ashamed if we had not involved the kids in their own race.

Start time was 7:30am this year instead of 8am.

The next morning I woke up and walked up to the race start for the 10K race.  Some friends joined me for the start.  To my happy surprise, Jill rode her bike up and became my support through the whole race.  I certainly wasn't in my favored shape for the race, but I made some goals and kept them, only missing my goal finish by one minute (should have followed Jill's advice and had faster turnover the last half mile rather than trying to lengthen my stride, lesson learned).

Josh and the kids made it up for the finish so they could steal my post-race snacks and then go to the library.  It is a fun race because it ends in the Parkview baseball stadium and they have the racers on the jumbo-tron and announce their names so the family can be more participatory in the end.

A new fall tradition for us, thanks to Jill, will be going to a college football game.  We are still learning to enjoy the event, so it was super nice to head over to a small university in town, St. Francis, and watch our good friend and old babysitter Jason "Big Guy" Gardner play as defensive center.  Danny was intent not he game.  Faith brought a book, which suits her personality after watching some of the game she was happy to read.  Viv spent most of her time watching the cheerleaders evidently to figure outs why they had blue and black pom-poms (which she finally figured out about the 3rd quarter and announced to the rest of of that it was to match the team colors on the football uniforms).  It was a very good thing to broaden the horizons of the kids to some of the best parts of fall sporting events.  Jill and I also took them to watch IPFW men and women's soccer.

I've been laughing a lot this week, because I have kids

The kids are in the wonderful linquistic state of applying very very new skills.  A few examples of assimilated language this past week:

Danny has been very invovled in playing soccer at recess with all the boys.  He was trying to explain how the boys clear the goal by needing to "cherry vomit."  Cherry vomit?  "Yeah, you drop the ball and kick it as far as you can."  That is a drop kick, oh, do you mean cherry bomb it? Like dropping a bomb? "No mom, it's cherry vomit."  Okay.

We had miso tofu soup for dinner last night.  My children were all being so complimentary of the cook, which I very much appreciated.  "I really like the liquidy part," said Danny enthusiastically.  His sentiments were joined by a hardy nod and slurp from Faith.  Viv looked very proffessional as she corrected her brother; "The liquidy stuff is called barf."  It's broth, dear, but barf sounds the same.  Certainly doesn't taste the same.

Faith was excited to use the notepad paper I had recieved from the junk mail.  It had our address on the bottom, very personalized.  As we rode to school I reminded her that she needed to change into her leotard and tights before I picked her up so we could get to ballet quickly.  "Oh great!  I will write myself a note so I don't forget. I can put it in my cubby as school."  Good idea.

She did indeed have her note in a noticeable place in the cubby area to remind her.  Her phonetic spelling made me laugh out loud:

 The precious little one does not know what 'tits' are yet, and it is best left for those to come first before we talk about their terminology.

And finally (for this week so far), Josh brought the kids up to the university to bring me a chocolate milkshake.  As they were leaving the building Faith needed to go to the restroom.  Josh sent the girls into the women's restroom and he followed Danny into the men's.  Danny walked up to the urinal, sized up the proportions that he had not expected as a 4 foot nothing six year old boy in a university men's bathroom and exlaimed "You have got to be kidding me!" 

 Looking nose to drain, it seemed impossible to get his meager stream in the intended target.  Josh told him he could just use the toliet in the stall.  When I asked him about the incident the next day, he looked at me with all seriousness and said "Mom, there is no way I could (indicating an upward shooting pistol)...you know....when the urinals at my school are (tipping his pointing hand downward).  Seriously.  It would be impossible."  

Introducing Professor Button.....Instructor, rather

Fall Semester of IPFW started on Monday August 25th, 2014.  I began the semester as a student with 7 credits moving closer to my master's degree.  I also started a new dimension of my higher education as well, that of being a graduate assistant.  I am being paid to practice being a university professor.  More thought went into that first week of teaching than did my first week of student-ing.

Truthfully, the first week of the semester blew by faster than a whirlwind.  Indefinitely, I had thought and dreamt about that first day and the jovial and personable teacher I would be, thus leading into the Most Influential Teacher of their Semester/college career.  I will not empty my optimistic glass quite yet to say that there is still not a possibility I could be the Most Influential Teacher of their Semester, but I will say the glasses are becoming clearer, less on the pink side.

I am a girl and thus did think about my outfit on the first day of school.  I have been dreaming of the day that I would become a professor for a long time.  Being an "instructor" or "graduate assistant" did not graduate my outfit yet to the professional frumpiness of over-sized sweaters and messy buns, but I did get to consider myself a professional.  I looked a my wardrobe as a way to visually show my students that I meant business, but still had a personality.  I mashed up the traditional work-place pencil skirt with one of my light weight (knowing I would sweat no matter the temperature in the classroom) colorful blouses.  I tied the whole thing together with beige pumps, the color of my hemline although regrettably without a nude pair of "stockings" to reinforce a completely well-bred woman.  I am from Idaho after all.

I can accept at this age of my life that I am a bit of a last minute person.  I certainly have all the mandatory framework pounded into place, ah! but let's leave the interior design to fall together organically!  I had determined that the course syllabus for this first teaching semester would contain my philosophy and major due dates, but the weekly calendar I could just not settle on.  I have taught often enough to know that I do not feel comfortable telling my class what they do or do not need to learn without getting to know them.  I struck a compromise with my guilty conscience which insisted that every student appreciates knowing what is coming ahead with a calendar and determined I would release the calendar online one week in advance thus giving me room to switch assigned readings, build content the class, and adapt to the students.

After the first day of class, I was glad I had allowed myself such flexibility in the calendar.  I asked how many of my students where in their first semester ever of college.  All but one of my 23 students raised their hand. Oi! Babies, all of them (to the university experience, I do have one non-traditional student that established early on his persona of being older and more experience in life - we did clear up on day two of class that he was not older than me, by a couple of months, not that I told him that).  Although, not babies to writing.  After a few journal entries and discussing our class goals and their personal goals, I realized I had played into the negative stigma of the un-learned W131 students.  I realize I am blessed to have a class of early risers - setting up classes before noon as a college freshman must be given credit - but will still not undermine how well prepared the are, and eager, to become proficient writers.

I stood at the head of the classroom tied to the computer the first day set apart from them by my access to blackboard as an instructor.  I was also setting the precedent that I am the instructor; a person with a bit more experience in this realm of composition that I can induct them adequately into academic writing.  I know where my strengths are as a writer and a person.  I recognize that my students have strengths in areas that I may not.  As it reads in my syllabus, I take my role as an instructor seriously.  If I don't give them adequate tools and strategies to succeed in this academic world, I have not done what I am being paid for - more importantly, what I am passionate about.

The second day of class I was among them.  We 'circled the wagons' in our tight little room and got to know one another.  I took pictures on my iPad for roll call.  The pictures was a fine tool to have for reference when reading their initial entries.  I wanted to make sure I was attributing their words to the right face.  They are each individual writers for sure!  I was surprised, from an instructors perspective, how quickly the mood changed when the chairs were all turned to the center.  I wish my room were larger, or my class size smaller, to make it more comfortable to circle-up more frequently.  We will certainly do it more, for that configuration changed things a great deal.

On Friday the fine glow of the first week was waning.  Students were more sleepy.  School and all its realities had set in.  Thankfully, I had relaxed my own dress a bit and could comiserate a bit with them.  My optimism had not faded.  I am still impressed and enthusiastic about my students and their potential.  College is still exciting for me.  I recognize that my "distance over time" affects how I feel about being an instructor to freshmen.  I am nostalgic about those first few years of discovery.  I remember the good that a university education did for me before embarking in the "real world" for decade before returning.  Certainly I am not old and frumpy, but I am well set to be an 'instructor' in this realm.  Having left the title up to the students, I am a bit gratified that some students open their emails with a 'Professor Button' greeting despite my obvious lack of a doctorate, for now ;).