Metaphor

My Car: My Brain

So looketh my car, so liveth my brain.


The current contents of the front passenger seat:

=One pair of broken sunglasses
=My school bag, filled with script, journal, hairclips and 72 pens
=A plastic bag full of band-aids from when Abby wore uncomfortable flip flops to the Plaza on Sunday
=A skirt that I need to return to Old Navy
=A purse that I only use when I don’t feel like carrying my keys, cell phone and too-fat wallet in my hands
=A cup-holder size container of spearmint gum that spilled on the seat
The papers from today’s home inspection
=A folder of audition forms from TMM
=The half-drunk coke from when I desperately drove through Burger King after the house inspection, on my way back to school
=A bag containing two books that I owed to the public library, like…a year ago. I think I already paid for them but I really think I should bring them back anyhow. Found them when I was packing.
=The apple bath gel I bought yesterday because it smells like fall

The current contents of the back seat:
=One giant bag of kitty litter that I’ve been too tired to carry in.
=Amelia’s Irish Step Bag, minus the uniform that I forgot yesterday
=One dirty pair of Irish Step socks
=About eleven snack wrappers – granola bars, etc.
=A basket of books and markers and thing for the girls to use at rehearsal
=One pair of spy glasses (the kind you use to see behind you)
=Amelia’s Game Boy with the Supermario cartridge
=One pink sweatshirt
=A box containing two tiny glass unicorns
=A Jersey Boys Playbill

In my CD player:
(title of show) ‘Cause I can only listen to it when the girls are not in the car…too many f-bombs.

I am fascinated by that show Hoarders. Today I am afraid that I am a Hoarder in my car. I tell myself it’s because I’m so freaking busy, and I can’t take everything out of my car when I get home after a 12 hour work day. I clean it on the weekends, though. Doesn’t that count?

Pros and Cons - Monday Blues

Cons first, because if I purge them out I’ll have more gratitude space.



Two senior girls told me about how very deeply I had disappointed the, crushed them, and I feel really, really bad about it. Really bad. Like…I should have been a plumber bad.

I forgot Amelia’s Irish Step class clothes. I feel like I’m always the mother who forgets important stuff, like uniforms and dinner. Abby had a bagel for dinner. Aren’t I supposed to be doing something with vegetables??

I was very ineffective at school today. I did not pay the attention that I should, even though I read aloud the climax of Number the Stars and taught about the development of agriculture. Somehow they lost their luster today.

I ate pop tarts and a banana for lunch. I really should not have done that.

I had a very surprising and uncomfortably enlightening experience that reminded me of my age today. Usually, in my brain, I am still twenty-two. Sometimes, an ache in my hip or my knowledge of Barry Manilow lyrics or a moment like today’s come along and remind me that I’m thirty-eight. In When Harry Met Sally, she sobs, “And I’m going to be forty!” Harry: “When?” Sally, sobbing afresh: “Someday!” That’s where I am. I am no spring freaking chicken.



Pros now, and there are more of them, and they are better.



Even though I was too cross with the girls today, I did have a pleasant time with Abby looking at Christmas ornaments at the Hallmark Store and sniffing fragrances at Bath and Bodyworks while Amelia was at dance class. Abby still lets me hold her hand in the mall.

My house inspection is tomorrow and I’m so excited to get to see the new house again. I had to take half a personal day from my job, but it’s totally worth it. It’s really fun to be thinking about that, and I’m very glad to have something that Patrick and I can be enthusiastic about together.

Pam said that at Monday morning meeting last week, they showed a slide show of last year in retrospect. She said there were lots of pictures of all aspects of the school – athletics, academics, arts, everything. There were pictures of both of last year’s shows, and people clapped for them. Then she said they showed a picture of me with my Tree Grows in Brooklyn cast, and people cheered. That made me feel swell, after feeling guilty about hurting some people’s feelings today. I know that some kids are disappointed, but I honestly try to do the best I can, and some people do recognize it.

I got to watch Amelia dance her Irish Step dances, and marvel at how strong and confident she is. She hops through those steps like the music is in her veins, and the fact that she could ever have once been a part of me, yet so completely herself, is awe-inspiring to me.

I came home and Lisa had left this as her Facebook Status: LDL: Laid down tonight w/ each boy & had whispering talks, each so unique. What could be better than being trusted w/these beautiful people? So great when I actually slow down. I thought…damn. That’s my friend. My friends are good parents. I am very lucky. Which led me to the thought that I got the best dad for my kids. My kids are very lucky.

I had a pleasant talk with Patrick on the back porch tonight about various things. I love my back porch, but I am not sad to be leaving it. I hope we find buyers who will appreciate it as much as we do, and I hope that we will create a new Back Porch.

President Clinton is on the Daily Show, and President Obama is coming on Letterman. How I Met Your Mother and the Big Bang Theory both had premiers tonight. I enjoy my shows.

I got a really nice email from a friend today which reminded me that I am very supported in the world. Friends that will offer to help you move are precious and rare.

I’ve got pistachio and chocolate covered toffee from Trader Joe’s in my cabinet.

Yesterday I bought Olive Kittredge, which won the Pulizer Prize last year and is Elizabeth Berg’s new favorite book. I am very excited to read it, especially because suddenly finishing a book like Pillars of the Earth after 1000 pages is a bit like…well, let’s just say it feels somehow empty and anticlimactic somehow. I’m glad to have this new one ready to keep me company.

I am sitting on my couch in my holey UMass sweatshirt, flannel pajama pants, and comfy socks while my family sleeps quietly upstairs. My autumn leaves candle is burning, a kitty is curled up at my feet, and my pillows are waiting for me. I have every reason to feel thankful and blessed, and I do.

See? This is what journaling does. All better now.

More Ramblings. Tired Ones.

So our house is on the market. Someone else is going to come and live in our sweet little farmhouse and it makes me feel so blue. But then I realize that I'm growing into something new, and the sun comes out again. It's time. It's good to feel so sure in that, at least.

Auditions for my fall musical are definitely challenging. I feel the weight of a lot of kids' experiences in this one. I want everyone to have a really great time.

If you've been reading this blog for a while, you might remember the story of Matt, the boy who stepped up to play the Beast in our show last year. The whole experience was so full of drama and exaltation, and everyone who participated in it felt some kind of little personal epiphany, and none more than Matt. I was so incredibly proud of him, and humbled to have played a part in this boy's amazing growth experince.

And now that boy is very, very sick, and everyone is very scared for him. So in between all of this craziness that's going on right now with the house and the new school year and the auditions, there is this quiet little prayer in my heartbeats for this good kid who deserves a long and happy life.

Even if you don't know him, or don't know me, or don't know that story, could you just send some good wishes/prayers/whatever you call it out in the Universe? Thank you.

Dear Sixth Grade Boys AGAIN

Dear Sixth Grade Boys,

I am so, so sorry that our Nova video today on the discovery of Lucy, the Missing Link, featured a moment of humping gorillas. I totally should have previewed that and prepared you for those four seconds of lusty abandon, but even if I had, I still would have shown it, for the other fifty-nine minutes and fifty-six seconds of the video were actually worth viewing as well. It's part of nature and you could also have stumbled upon it at any zoo, as my daughters could tell you from our visit to the Southwick Zoo this summer.

Honestly, fellas, you're going to have to get a grip, or it's going to be a very squirmy, embarrassing year for you. Which, let's face it...it's gonna be, anyhow. Let's just try to make it as painless as possible, okay?

Sincerely,
Your Teacher

Dear Sixth Grade Boy

Dear Sixth Grade Boys,

Ready?

Homo erectus.

Yeah. I said it. Now get your giggles out and let's get back to work.

Yours Truly,

Your Teacher

Random Ramblings

Rattling around in my brain today...

1.) Auditions are very stressful for the auditioners, but totally for the casting board as well. It's a lot of pressure to know that you hold so many kids' experiences in your hands. You know that it's utterly inevitable that you'll be making a lot of people cry. I don't like to make kids cry, despite what you might hear from Abby.

2.) Saw Jersey Boys today. Loved it, but I really do wonder why it is that I know every word to every Frankie Valli song. No one needs to know as many song lyrics as I do. Really. It's ridiculous.

3.) Ohmygod I'm going to sell my house. This has all happened so fast, and while I know that a new place with a space of my own - with a space for everyone's "own" - is what this family needs, I still definitely feel caught in a whirlwind.

4.) Before the show tonight, my mom drank two shots and called the manager of the bar an asshole to the bartender...but loud enough for the manager to hear. My mom RULES. She gets more fun the older we get. Going to see shows is her favorite thing, and I need to work on doing that more.

5.) My class this year is off to a very good start. And it turns out that the class I had last year did incredibly well on their MCAS tests last spring and I'm feeling ridiculously proud. Andrea even gave me a cookie for it. :)

6.) I think the Jews had it right when they chose to celebrate their new year at the end of September. I seriously think I was Jewish in a former life. Yesterday I bought an Autumn Leaves candle and a pumpkin latte. Fall is here. Sharpen up those Dixon Ticonderogas and decorate with sunflowers.

7.) This is such a tiny thing, but I entered this essay contest in Real Simple magazine. It was never about the potential of winning...it was about setting a goal for myself and following through. Of course, the deadline was last Monday at midnight and I sent my submission at 9:30 p.m. It still counts, though! The question was, "When did you first realize that you were a grown-up?" I wrote about my first year teaching. I was just really happy that I sent something, 7 words under the 1,500 word limit. God, I talk too much.

8.) As I write this, I've got an old SNL from my DVR on in the background. Justin Timberlake and what's-his-name just sang "Mother Lovers." Justin Timberlake is absurdly talented. And pretty.

9.) The girls and I watched Scooby Doo Two - Monsters Unleashed last night. No one should be made to watch that film. Seriously.

10.) It's funny...just as I launch into my busiest time of life, things have suddenly clicked into place with me. All of a sudden, I'm feeling unexpectecly in the flow. I am feeling like everything in my life is exactly where it should be right now. I'm doing the work I'm meant to do, my life is moving determinedly forward in the proper directions, and I am happier, suddenly, than I have been in quite some time.

Happy New Year.

An Open Letter to My House

Dear Yellow House,

I’m not good at goodbye under the best of circumstances. As you well know, I’ve sat on both your front porch and back deck and engaged in complicated burning rituals merely to say goodbye to kids that I’ve known for 180 days each. How will I ever be able to release you, my darling Home, where I’ve lived and loved and learned for nine and a half years, thousands and thousands of days?

Amelia saw her first Christmas here. We brought her over this threshold at less than five months old. She ate her first cereal sitting in her high chair right in this kitchen with Auntie Lisa having tea beside us. Abby was conceived and born while we lived here, and this is the only home she’s ever known. I nursed both of my babies in the quiet dark in this living room, and I’ve watched many a sunrise through the woods outside this window.

We’ve had thousands of family dinners in this dining room. Patrick and I have laughed, fought, and loved for the biggest part of our marriage in every single room of this house. And both porches, come to think of it. That’s a lot of energy to share. Patrick wrote two books here. I’ve returned to the comfort of this living room after maybe a hundred stressful dress rehearsals, kicking up my feet on the furniture and not at all regretting the rings of my martini glass on the placemats.

I got the news of my brother’s death in this kitchen, while making meatballs on a perfect summer’s morning. My bunny died here, along with three cats. They’re all buried in the back yard under Amelia’s Christening bench. Their energy is here as well.

I’ve cried myself to sleep in this bedroom over matters great and small. I’ve painted words of inspiration and encouragement on the girls’ bedroom wall. We’ve gone from cribs to toddler beds to big girl beds, and now the two are squished in this tiny room. They learned how to be sisters here, though, my girls. They’ve learned how to negotiate with each other during countless nights of bedtime squabbling and secret-telling. I’m afraid it’s been more of the former than latter, but my hope is that when they have a little space from each other, there will be more patience to go with it.

Oh, and the parties! We have the most amazing group of friends, as you well know. Faux Christmases and naughty Tramptoberfests and crazy amounts of champagne and flowing chocolate fountains and chances for all of us to break free of our roles of Upstanding Contributing Members of Society and raise a little hell on the back porch and vicinities. That kind of joy and effusive celebratory laughter will echo here long after we’ve gone, I know. Is there a more powerful or pervasive force to be found?

So, Twelve Westwood Road, there’s been a whole lot of living here. We are so incredibly grateful for the shelter, comfort, and light that you have provided for our growing family. We became a family here, and we will leave you with the vibrations from that journey within your walls.

Because yes, it’s time for us to leave now. We love you, and we appreciate all of these gifts, but it’s time for us to move on. It’s time for all of us to have a tiny bit of elbow room, to have our own spaces under our shared roof to create ourselves in this next phase we’re all entering, each in his or her own way. We thought about adding an addition to you, but after much reflection, we’ve decided not to. Patrick for financial reasons, and me because…well, I know you don’t want us to. I know you want to be just what you are – humble, small, cozy, sturdy. You don’t need any alterations.

There is nothing I wish more for you, Sweet House, than that you find another family who will cherish and appreciate you as much as we have. I hope that you will always know laughter and turkey dinners and tickle-fights and candlelight and jazz music and Spring Cleanings. I hope that children will scamper down your stairs on many a Christmas morning to come, and winds will howl against you as you keep your families warm and dry inside. I hope many delicious leisurely summer afternoons will be passed on your front porch swing and I really hope your new families keep growing roses and lavender and daisies and hydrangeas. You deserve all of those things.

Know that scrapbooks full of you will continue to be a part of our family, and that no matter where else we go, you’ll always be Our First Home. And yes, when I’m feeling particularly blue, or nostalgic, or just when it’s the Day Before Thanksgiving and I’m thinking about baking pies, I might have to drive up to you, and pretend that I just arrived there by accident. I’ll make a very, very slow turn-around on the dead end street, looking way into the back yard to see if there’s still a garden or a swingset. I’ll try to peek through the windows, and I will whisper another little thank-you for just being you, our little tiny first home, and a part of all of us for always.

Love,
Kelly