Christmas 2008, Volume 1

I suppose the best way to share photos and thoughts from this Christmas season is in installments. After all, I'm still experiencing it. We're on vacation in Georgia right now with my side of the family, so we're still in the midst of our holiday extravaganza.

So I'll begin with pictures from the MorningStar Church Christmas Mixer and 3rd Annual Santa's Softball Spectacular. Catchy little name, huh? Anyway, our friend Kim Durham was there taking random shots (in between cheering for her hubby Jerry on Tony's winning team, of course), and she captured some really great pics.

Catching Up

It's 11:05 p.m. on the night of Christmas, and most everyone else is in bed. I have some laundry to do, so I figured I'd use the time between loads to catch up my blog by posting photos I've taken over the last couple of months that I somehow never had time to share. So we're going way back, readers, but I promise not to get wordy in my explanation of what everything is, and I won't include every single thing. That could get long. And I'm saving the events of this wonderful Christmas week for their own post . . . or posts. Lots of cool stuff to think and write about this year. So here we go . . .

Here's the Byrd/Coats gang on Halloween.


Next up are a few from Thanksgiving, which we spent in Atlanta with Tony's side of the family.

Pretty Byrd girls - Jessica, Katharine, and Caroline ...


Matt, Jacob, and Mom ...



Caroline and Nathan, Kelly and Jacob, and Tony and me ...









Ellis and Gillian...


The night we got home from our Thanksgiving trip, the girls and I went to see my dear friend Neal Coomer in a show at the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center. It was called "The Witnesses", and it was fabulous. Neal has always been one of my favorite singers, and nothing has changed. He absolutely sang the stew out of those songs, and my girls and I loved it. It was great to visit with him for a little while after the show. It's been so long since we've seen one another, but we agreed that some friendships don't really change, and the best ones can pick right back up where they left off. Here's a photo of the four of us...


Gillian's sixth birthday was the next week, and although we didn't have her actual birthday party until a couple of weeks later, we did have a special visit from Papa Conn. He was on the other coast on business and drove across the state to have dinner and spend the night with us. It was great to have him in town to celebrate the little Bean's birthday.

I'll have a double.

Ah, 'tis the season for all kinds of neat stuff, like last-minute shopping on a Monday night before leaving for Tennessee the next morning. Yes, that was me. I went to exchange a new coat my wonderful husband had bought for me, because after 14.5 years, I have finally figured out that it really is okay to tell him if something he gave me just doesn't work for one reason or another. So there I was in the store, replacement coat and a few other things in hand, kind of wandering around looking for a thing or two on my still-need-to-get list, when I overheard one half (or maybe three fourths, at the rate this woman was talking) of a cell phone conversation.

Sidebar: This is so not the point of this post, but one thing this conversation brought to my mind was just how easy it is to shop and talk, becoming totally engrossed in one's phone conversation, not realizing that everyone within a 30-foot radius is being sucked into your very public communication with the person on the other end. Have you ever slapped your phone shut at the end of just such a conversation in the middle of a store and been instantly confronted by a new kind of quiet, one that let's you know, by contrast, that you were definitely NOT using your inside voice while discussing your friend's most recent personal fiascotragedycrisisissue? I hate it when that happens . . . so why has it happened to me more than once? Anyway . . .

So this lady was talking on her cell phone. I was minding my own business, looking at picture frames. I wasn't trying to hear what she was saying. I wasn't prying into her business, or the business of her friend Pam, about whom she was talking. I didn't need an update. I don't even know Pam. But here's what her friend (name unknown) said to the other person who knows Pam:

"Oh, Pam? . . . Yeah, she's doing really well. . . . You know she had a double vasec-, um, a double vasectom- . . . right, uh huh . . . She's doing great! . . . "

You know how every once in a while you get one of those emails where you have to answer a bunch of questions about yourself, and sometimes one of them is "If you could meet anyone in the world, living or dead, who would it be?" Well, I'm revising my list. Here's the updated version:

1. My Aunt Sara
2. Sting
3. Pam (that lady who had a double vasectomy)

More Fun with MacBook

Raw Intellect, Part Two

Okay, I'm not kidding about this stuff. I mean it. Not making it up. Today I'm wearing this really big necklace . . .


See, I told ya. Anyway, at the bus loop at the end of the day, I told some of my friends that it was made from a piece of a space shuttle re-entry tile. One of the Florida souvenirs you can't get at any old gas station on I-75. Of course, that's not really true, so my friends just laughed because they knew it was a joke.

One of my students, on the other hand . . .

Well, earlier in the day I told my class it could stop a bullet (and that could actually be true, because, well, LOOK at it. But probably not.). A few minutes later, one of the little lambs asked softly, "Mrs. Byrd, is your necklace really bulletproof?"

I gotta get that kid a sign.

Facebook

I thought of a few other names for Facebook:

"Everybody says this is soooo much better than myspace" Book

"Need to get something important done? I'm so NOT on the Case" Book

"I have so many friend requests, I can't keep up the Pace" Book

"I must have left my self-control in some really obscure Place" Book

Did you just hear that mournful chime? That was the death knell of the last hour of my life. Curse you, Facebook!

Raw Intellect

Here's a beauty from one of my fourth grade lambs today. And I quote...

"Mrs. Byrd, does the free food cost any money?"

Looks like we're going to have to skip all the parties right before Christmas break and really buckle down. Apparently I need to learn 'em some stuff.

Fun with MacBook

Dunk'd

I would be remiss if I didn't share with my L.O.R. (Legion of Readers) a photo of my fine self during my turn in the dunk tank at our school's recent fall festival.  I was the first target of the evening, because someone told me I might want to ask for the first time slot to avoid the inevitable "tank o' funk" that would await those who took their turns toward the end of the event.  Turned out to be priceless wisdom.  When I dipped my toe into the clean, fresh, and really quite warm water, I new it was under the best of all possible circumstances that I was subjecting myself to sure humiliation.

So I carefully climbed up the tiny ladder and delicately positioned myself on the seat.  There was already a huge line of sweet-faced deviants, tickets in hand, waiting for their shot at Mrs. Byrd.  Of course, many of them didn't really care or even know who I was.  They were merely possessed with the spirit of dunk, and their beady little eyes practically twinkled with the thought of making the old girl go down.  Some of my own students took their turns, of course, and I had great fun talking lots of trash to them.  

The very first kid cheated.  Flat out cheated.  Each kid could throw three balls at the target, and he missed all three.  Did this stop him from achieving the desired effect?  Did he allow a pesky little thing like THE RULES keep him from success?  Oh, no.  Before anyone knew what was going on, he rushed the tank, throwing himself on the tripping mechanism, a blood curdling growl rising from within his belly, and the last thing I remember before plunging into the swirling depths is a vision of this miscreant, fists raised in victory, a cloud of darkness  surrounding him like a cloak.

Okay, perhaps I'm embellishing a little, but he really did cheat.  Truth is, he came around and apologized later.  So maybe the incident was outside the norm for him, and his little soul wasn't, after all, birthed in the Cradle of Eeeevil.

Most of my assailants were cute little kindergardeners, or so it seemed, and even when they hit their mark, there wasn't enough force to dunk me.  So we let 'em manually do the job.  I went down many times over, and somehow, even though I always knew it was coming, it seemed to catch me off guard.  If you've even been in one of those things, you know just what an abrupt, jarring feeling it is, surprise or no surprise.

When my fifteen minutes were up, I happily climbed out of the tank, soaking wet and mascara free, clothes clinging desperately to every inch of me.  I wasn't too pretty, but I'm a team player, and although you know I just HATE to be the center of attention, I was willing to sacrifice my dignity for the good of all.  Well, now that I'm looking at the picture, maybe it wasn't so good for all . . . :-)

Still here.

Okay, y'all. I know it's been a while. But I am still here. It's truly amazing how much it's possible to really want to do something, like post to one's blog, for example, but barely be able to justify doing it because of the 12,469,823 things that all seem to be digging their sharp little claws into the flesh of one's "This HAS to Get Done" list. I went into a near-depression on Saturday afternoon, because I had spent two solid days grading papers (We just finished our first grading period, and I have to turn in grades on Thursday.) No school last Friday. Fun for my kids, fun for people who did NOT have a truckload of papers to grade. I was neither of those, so I holed up in my bedroom and graded . . . and graded . . . and graded. My schedule on Saturday? Wake up; repeat Friday's schedule. Sunday? Go to church (thank God!); follow modified Saturday schedule (because I only had half the day to work with); watch Rays beat Boston while continuing grading marathon.

Sidebar: "Worst to First" . . . Who'd've thunk it? Sounds a lot like another now-famous baseball phrase, "Reverse the Curse". I was chanting that one that year, too. Especially to Tony, who is a huge Yankees fan. That was a good year to be a sortakinda Bean Town girl. I had a mixed emotion or two Sunday night, but not much. Definitely rooting for the Rays.

Anyway, I've been busy. As Matt Willetts once said, "Busier than a one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest." And now soccer has begun for Caroline. And basketball for Ellis. In addition to gymnastics for Gillian. And have I mentioned we have a church?

And I volunteered to go in the dunk tank at our school's Fall Festival on Friday.

And my class is supposed to make a pumpkin look like a book character by Friday, too. One of my students suggested the Great Pumpkin of Charlie Brown fame. On the surface, a wildly uncreative idea. But under the circumstances, brilliant. Genius. Practically anointed.

And NEXT Friday is our book character parade. Our team is doing the characters from Peter Pan. Guess who will be sportin' the tights and an enormous amount of green felt? Uh huh.

And now Caroline is searching for her shin guards, and I have no clue where they are. Alas, I must sign off, find the blessed things, pack up my bag'o'work and foldable spectator chair, pile the kiddies into the van and head to the field.

It's a good life. A little nuts, but very, very good.

Mama's Got a Brand New Do

Ellis is Eight

Hard to believe my sweet boy is an eight-year-old second grader. His birthday was August 29th, but that turned out to be an unusually busy weekend, so we scheduled his party a couple weeks later. Usually, we do something for him here at the house or up out the pool at our community clubhouse, but this year we opted for something more low-prep (to preserve Mommy's sanity). Of course, "low-prep" can often mean "high-dollar". Such was the case for Ellis' birthday extravaganza at Planet Bounce, but it was worth every cent. All we did was send out the invitations and pick up the cake (and Tony did that part. I'm a happy wife!), and the rest was ready-made fun.


Planet Bounce is one of those indoor play areas featuring giant inflatables that one might normally find at some outdoor festival or a private backyard birthday party. But there are four of them under one roof, and you pay one price to bounce until you're out of breath and your hair is plastered to your head with sweat. And that's exactly what Ellis and all his buddies did for an hour before moving to the party room for pizza and cake.

Now, Ellis is sometimes prone to headaches when he is overheated and overexerted, and those headaches are often accompanied by nausea. So, when he very earnestly told me about 45 minutes into the jumping that his head hurt really badly, I took one look at his flushed and splotchy little face and knew we might have a problem. Why don't I ever learn to just carry kids' ibuprofen in my purse at all times? Those little Tylenol chewy things just don't even make a dent in his headaches. Anyway, we eventually gathered all the kiddies into the party room, and just when we got them all seated around the table and were preparing to get things started, Ellis said, "Mommy, I think I need to throw up right NOW!" So Tony hustled him off the the bathroom and splashed water on his face and cooled him off a little. Fortunately, his lunch stayed put.

He felt better when he came back to the table, and the celebrating commenced. Large quantities of pizza were consumed by eager, sweaty boys (not to mention Caroline and Gillian and a few other little girls), and we all enjoyed a little Spongebob cake.

And then, the gifts.

I wish everyone I know could experience an Ellis Byrd gift opening event. I have never seen a child more excited and animated when unwrapping each new present, as though it truly was the most fabulous toy on the entire planet. He is always genuinely thrilled and full of gratitude. He's the kind of kid to whom you just love to give a gift. Of course, it helps when almost every single one is a LEGO set. He was, is, and will continue to be nuts about those things. It's a passion. No, an obsession. So even the gift cards were exciting, because they immediately translated in his mind to "more LEGOs". Smart boy. Although, I must say, he truly reached the pinnacle of his euphoria when he unwrapped the final prize . . . from Mommy and Daddy . . . LEGO Indiana Jones for PlayStation 2. What rapture, what pure emotion, what unspeakable joy!!!!!!

And when we got home and hauled all the loot in and got ready for bed (and finally gave Ellis some medicine for his still-pounding head), I heard Tony whisper to Ellis, and he then threw his skinny little boy arms around me and said, so sincerely, "Thank you for that great party, Mom. I love you so much." Priceless.

Here are more pics . . .

Ellis, et al, in one of the bouncy thingies.

Gillie Bean had a great time, too, while Tony faithfully shot party footage, and Caroline ran wild with our neighbor, a party-goer's older sister.


Part of the deal is that the birthday kid gets to put his hand print on the wall for posterity. Ellis chose red, and I wrote his name and the date below it.


I know I mentioned this cake, but did I mention that for days after the party, I just kept a plastic fork right in the box for those moments when I just HAD to have a bite . . . or seven? Publix birthday cake with buttercream icing is . . . my . . . VICE!


And finally, the whole gang. Many are wearing our school spirit shirts, because it was a Friday. Just another reason to blast off for Planet Bounce, instead of bringing everyone to Casa Crazy . . . I mean, uh, Casa Byrd.

Song Byrd

I know I've posted several times about Gillian, but she's just such good material. She cracks me up. Tonight, as I stood at the mirror in my bathroom, she was using the potty in the separate "water closet". The door was open, of course, and I wasn't more than about four feet away, but she was in her own little world. And she was singing. She's frequently singing, and more often than not, she's totally making it up as she goes. It's often the kind of thing one might expect from a five-year-old. Random stuff that reflects whatever is happening in the moment. Sometimes it's some version of something she's heard at church or heard Tony or me singing. It might be something Hannah Montana-ish. She truly runs the gamut (okay, that word looks so wrong, but it came out clean on the spell check...). And many times, the lyrics she writes, right off the top of her head, can truly warm a mother's heart. That sweet girl . . . oh, sing it, honey.

So tonight, she blessed me with her new song ...

"I ... love ... this whole world ..."

Aw, how sweet.

"I love this world You made for us . . ."

Now, that's my girl.

"I love you Jesus! I love you God!"

*Sniff, sniff* My little angel, singing about our Lord . . .

"Ooooooo, yeah . . . baaay-beh!"


. . . Nice.

Slime Happens

This summer the kids in Planet KidZone (our church's children's ministry) have been earning points by being at church, bringing their Bibles, inviting friends, etc. They've been working towards a big group total, which they earned, so we're all heading to Tampa Grand Prix to play putt-putt and ride go-carts somewhere in the near future. In addition to that, however, last Sunday each kid who reached a certain individual point total was rewarded with the opportunity to pour sticky green slime (of the Nickelodeon variety) over the adult of his or her choice.

And aren't the pastor's kids always the overachievers? (Well, either that, or they're the most rebellious ones, and they're peering into a future that includes at least some jail time.)

So, dutiful parents that we are, Tony and I donned our best sliming apparel and subjected ourselves to the green goo. At first, I tried to fight the system and cover myself. I knew I would eventually be cajoled into removing my protective gear, but I figured I could at least get my picture taken, and I could use it for my submission to the 2009 "Pretty Pastor's Wives" calendar. I'm hoping for Mrs. March.

Then it was slime time. I stood there over the drain and allowed my sweet son to pull the cord, tipping the bucket of green nastiness over my head. It really was gross. That stuff is made of Egg Beaters, flour, milk, frog saliva, salamander juice, worm guts, and a couple of other things. And a LOT of green food coloring, of course. If you look closely you can see the look of determination on Ellis' face in the background. He was enjoying himself.


Naturally, I couldn't miss the golden opportunity to do my best Charlie's Angels hair toss. That way I was able to "give back" to the crowd of onlookers, allowing them to share in my green glory. Just a little splatter. I figure if I'm going to have slime dumped all over me, I might as well really get into the moment.


Tony went under the bucket, too, at the hands of our sweet little Gillian. And even Caroline got in on it. She and her best friend, Loren, chose to slime one another as their rewards. Fortunately, we were able to rinse her hair out right away so that the green food coloring didn't leave a lasting tint to her beautiful blonde locks.

Oh, the things we do for our children. It was fun for all of us. :-)

One more thing . . .

A quote. Very simple. Saw it on my cousin Zoe's blog and just had to borrow it. I've come to love my drug of choice even more in the last couple of weeks. How you non-coffee-drinkers get through a day is truly a mystery to me. And to Oliver Wendall Holmes, apparently, and he was no slouch.

He said, "The morning cup of coffee has an exhilaration about it which the cheering influence of the afternoon or evening cup of tea cannot be expected to reproduce."

Amen, Brother Holmes.

Baby Steps

Today was better than yesterday. At school, I mean. I'm still exhausted, and I'm still not quite sure exactly what I'm supposed to be doing (mostly because there's just so much information to process and so much material to wade through to prepare adequately), but today seemed a little more productive. I actually did some honest-to-goodness teaching . . . at least I think I did. I was also able to complete a couple of random tasks on my to-do list, like going through what seems like endless shelves of materials that go with our new reading curriculum and checking each item against the list of stuff I'm supposed to have. That took longer than I had expected it would, but at least it's done!

One strange and unexpected little twist of irony (okay, that might have been a wildly redundant phrase) . . . I'm really enjoying math class! HA! Most of you who are reading won't know just how weird that is. For the most part, my brain doesn't speak math. I'm the girl who has to close her eyes to calculate her tip for the server at a restaurant, even when the meal is an even $10. Sad, I know. That being the case, however, I can truly relate to the majority of my 5th grade math students. Most of them feel that they struggle at least a little bit in math. The good news is Caroline is a 5th grader, so if I have trouble understanding something I'm supposed to teach, I can always just ask her. Maybe tutoring me can be one of her chores.

Week One . . . Done

I'm sure I'll blog more later, but I'll just let myself speak for myself . . .

We did it!

Well, we all survived our first day of school! After a very fitful sleep (couldn't get my mind to settle down), I woke up yesterday morning around 5:30 to get ready for work. I had stayed up fairly late the night before preparing a few things for my students on their first day. Caroline loves to help me out in my classroom, so she wanted to go in early with me. Despite my feeling that she needed more sleep, I woke her up at 6:15, she hopped right out of bed, and the two of us were at school before 7:00. She sharpened pencils and cut circles tracers while I made copies in the work room. At 8:00, Tony brought Ellis and Gillian to my room, and together the five of us, backpacks, supplies, and cameras in hand, walked to the main building (I'm out on the "back 40" in one of the portables, remember?) to take Gillian to her very first day of kindergarten.


It was a little overwhelming for her, I think. You know, eeeeeeeveryone personally drops their kindergarteners off. No kissing them goodbye at the bus stop on the first day. No sending them with the carpool. And we're no different. I had to get our media specialist to cover my own classroom so I could experience this rite of passage with Gillian. So Tony had the video camera rolling, I had the digital still camera, Caroline played the big sister role perfectly, showing Gillian where her seat was, helping her with her backpack, and Ellis was his usual encouraging self, telling her "You're going to love it, Gillian!" Still, even with a legion of supporters, her already big brown eyes seemed to widen and moisten as she looked around at what seemed like a thousand people cramming into the classroom. She was shy and uncertain, and as I began to take my leave, she said with a shaky little voice, "My ear is hurting. It hurts really bad."

Great. My mind started churning. Does she have an ear infection? Is it really hurting, or is she just nervous? She did have a sinus infection just two weeks ago, and we've only just finished up her antibiotics. Hmm. I've got to get Ellis dropped off and get to my classroom. Am I a terrible mom if I don't try to get to the bottom of this right here, right NOW? There are students and possibly THEIR parents arriving in my classroom this very minute!

I decided that, like almost every other kindergartener that had come before her, Gillian would be fine. And I, her mother, would be fine, too. I assured her that this would be the case, and if her ear really DID hurt during the day, she should tell her teacher, and she would know what to do. (But I did make a mental note to get some children's ibuprofen to keep in my classroom for just such an occasion.)

So after kisses from the whole family, we left her there to start working on the activity already on her table, and headed down the hallway to Ellis' classroom. He's an old pro, of course, and this year he's excited to move out of primary (K and 1st) and into transitional (2nd and 3rd), because he gets his very own desk (as opposed to a table) where he can keep all his own supplies. Most of the kids from his class last year are with him again, including his best buddy, Mark, so the dropping off experience was short and sweet. Caroline and I said our goodbye's to Ellis and Tony there, and the two of us rushed back to Portable Land. I gave her a quick kiss and sent her off to her classroom, which is right next to mine.

And then I began my very first day as Mrs. Byrd, 4th grade teacher. We didn't get through nearly enough of the things I had planned, but they did eat lunch, and they did get home the correct way. I'd call that a success.

Now it's 11:00 on Tuesday morning, and I'm posting this blog from my home. Why? Because this is Florida, and it's hurricane season, and yesterday Tropical Storm Fay was threatening to become a category 1 hurricane and make landfall just south of Tampa Bay. So all the area counties called off school for today. But the storm never really strengthened, and it hit Naples (much farther south than had been predicted) early this morning, so we'll see the nasty weather bands sometime this evening, and we'll go back to soggy school grounds tomorrow.

Byrds Go Nuts

Okay, our whole family just watched the men's 4x100 meter medley relay, featuring the unbelievable Michael Phelps and all those other dudes who aren't nearly as famous but every bit as important to this history-making race.  Did you see it?  It was so cool.  It wasn't the same photo finish as Phelps' last race when he out-touched the silver medalist by one one-hundredth of a second.  One . . . one-hundredth . . . of one second.  We had to really break that one down for Caroline last night to help her understand just what a narrow margin that is.

But tonight was the big moment of history.  Those boys dug it out in the pool to win the gold medal, set a world record, AND help Phelps win his eighth gold medal in these Olympic Games, breaking the record held by Mark Spitz since 1972.  

We whooped, we hollered, there was dancing and rejoicing.  I just love the Olympics.

I'm Still Here

If you are a semi-frequent reader of my blog, you may be wondering where I've been. I've spent the past week in a little-known spot on the map called Portable Land.

For you who don't know, after many years of being a stay-at-home and work-part-time-from-home mom, a couple of years ago I ventured out into the world of substitute teaching. I absolutely loved it. Aside from the teeny tiny paycheck, it was perfect for me. Work when you want to, don't work when you don't want to, teach kids . . . no lesson plans, no grading. :-) But over the course of the past two years, my experience has evolved, and I've really felt led to pursue full-time elementary school teaching. God has truly worked out so many details and steps along the way that have confirmed my feelings, and last March a position opened up at my kids' school when a teacher left to go to a middle school. So now I'm two days away from the first day of my first full year of teaching elementary school (I taught a year of high school English eleven years ago. Not doin' that again.).

And this is why I've spent the last week in Portable Land. I'll be teaching 4th grade, and all the 4th and 5th grade classes are in portables at our school this year. Our first opportunity to get into our rooms to begin setting up and preparing for the new year was last Saturday. Teachers went back to work on Monday, so in addition to time in our rooms, we spent a lot of time in meetings and trainings and other beginning-of-the-year stuff. It's been information overload, to say the least.

I feel fortunate to have been able to learn as much as I did last year, and I'm definitely not a "newbie". That's good. But it doesn't mean that I actually know what I'm doing. In many ways, I feel completely in the dark, unprepared, ill-equipped. There are days I've almost felt like some kind of impostor, masquerading as a person who has a clue. Fortunately, I'm an old broad, so when I met many of my students' parents on "Meet the Teacher" Day this past Wednesday, they didn't catch on. I'm a familiar face at the school, having subbed for many of my kids before, and I just don't look like the typical new teacher. One of the other teachers on my team is new to our school and is much younger than I am. But she's more experienced, having taught for two years already. Still, she got the third degree from the mother of one of her students. Where did you get your education? How long have you been teaching? What kind of interesting and exciting things do you have planned for your class this year? I didn't get any of those questions, and I think it's partially because people take one look at my 37-year-old self and assume a lot. But if I had gotten that last question, I think I would have said that my big plan for the first day of school is to actually make it to the cafeteria at lunch time, and after that, well, I dunno.

I did manage to snap a couple of pictures last Saturday, because I knew I would want to find a few minutes to blog about this new phase of my life. So here's the "before" picture of my room, which was being used as a base of operations by the painting crew who were working on the portables.


Sweet Caroline was a big help that day. After I got the painting stuff moved out, she and I moved furniture, stacked textbooks, cleaned desks and shelves, and unpacked the few boxes of teacher stuff I have (that's one advantage to being a new teacher . . . not as much stuff). She loves to help organize and arrange things, and she's a hard worker. I didn't even have to offer to pay her! But I'm going to anyway.

So today I plan to go over to the school and do some more work on my room. It's a long way from being the way I'd like it to look when my students arrive for their first day on Monday morning. I'll post an "after" picture when I get it all done. But sometime between now and then I should probably take a closer look at the first lesson of the new reading curriculum I'm supposed to introduce that day, and decide on a craft or activity I can do with each class on our team of four teachers during our "get to know all the teachers on the team" rotation time, or make some decisions about my own classroom procedures that I need to begin implementing on day one, or look at my students' portfolios to see which ones have PMP's or IEP's or AIP's (or MP3's or cool CD's or know their ABC's and 1,2,3's).

It's looking like another leftovers-for-dinner night at Casa Byrd.

Family Fun, cont.

Whaaaaat??!! It's been over a week since I've posted! And I call myself a blogger. *tsk, tsk, tsk* Well, life does tend to get in the way sometimes, so I'll try to make this update quick.

The girls and I returned safely from my hometown of Cleveland, TN. It really was a great trip, and I'm so glad we were able to go. It's important to me to create opportunities for my kids to spend time with their cousins. I have such fond childhood memories of my own cousins, and I still have great relationships with them today. Just saw a whole bunch of 'em at the end of the Cleveland trip (more about that below).

One day Vanessa and I took all the kids to Deer Park where we met with my longtime friend Adrienne and her four kiddos. It seems Adrienne hasn't changed at all since we were young teenagers in our church youth group a loooooong time ago. The only difference seems to be that now she has these four sweet, bright children who call her "Mommy". How can you be 16 years old and have a ten-year-old daughter? I'm not sure, but it's as though that's exactly what she has done. It was great to visit with her and her gang.

The kids had a great time on the rope-chain-rubbery zipline thingy. The three amigos (Caroline, Graham, and Will) managed to hang on all together all the way across without dipping their feet into the molten lava (a.k.a. mulch).


Gillian was no slouch, either. Okay, so maybe she didn't cover quite as much real estate as her older sister/cousins, but if there had been a decent set of monkey bars, she would've been tearin' those suckers up. Caroline enjoyed getting to know her new sweet cousin, helping her get used to the feel of a soccer ball bouncing somewhere in the vicinity of her stubby little toes.

Before we left, all ten kids posed for a group shot, which was no small accomplishment. Hard to believe we three native Cleveland girls-turned-women have managed to produce such a large brood, and we were even missing Ellis.


Later we all hooked up with Brian (my brother) and his kids at our parents' house, and we grilled hot dogs and the kids swam. My niece Lorne is growing up so much, and she was a great "big cousin" for Lia in the pool. I had my camera with me there, but I somehow neglected to take a picture. I can't imagine how this happened, considering the fact that since I've started this blog I take that thing everywhere I go. Anyway, photo or no photo, it was fun for everyone. It's hard to beat that kind of relaxation.

On Saturday morning, we grown-ups (plus Lia) piled into the van and took off for Cincinnati. We left all the rest of the kids (all seven of them) in Cleveland with Lauren, the queen of all childcare providers. She's a lot like that Super Nanny lady, in that she seems to hold some kind of magical power over children, wielding her special brand of fun and creativity that keeps them not only occupied but genuinely entertained for hours on end. I must clarify, however, that Lauren dresses way cooler than the Super Nanny, although I suspect that whole boring-suit-with-the-orthopaedic-shoes bit is just for T.V. You can't tell me that girl doesn't own a tube top or two. We ARE talking about Hollywood. (Remember, I'm referring to the SN here . . . not Lauren.). I must also point out another big difference between Lauren and the SN: Lauren's not dealing with those rotten, disrespectful, badly parented children. Whoo boy! If they spent one week in MY house . . . hmph . . . naughty chair (said with eyes rolling) . . . just gotta put the fearuhgod in 'em. I'm just sayin' . . .

I digress. It happens often.

So we went to Cincinnati to celebrate . . . RAY DAY!!! My dear Uncle Raymond celebrated his 60th birthday on Saturday evening. Thing is, he didn't know he was going to be celebrating it with a hundred of his closest friends and family! Huge surprise. And it was so much fun. This is where I got to see so many of the aforementioned cousins of mine (Yes, I know. The waaaaaaay aforementioned cousins. See beginning of post, paragraph two, immediately following paragraph one, which ends with the words "I'll try to make this update quick."). We wished him a happy birthday in grand style, and it truly was a privilege to be there and be a part of such a great event. Uncle Ray has always been special to me personally, and he and Aunt Joan have long had their names on a big chunk of my heart. But there was something distinctly inspiring about hearing so many others express that same type of love and appreciation for him. I'm not the only one he has impacted, but hearing their comments didn't make me feel less unique. Instead, it made me feel genuinely proud to be among such a distinguished group of those whom he has touched. Trust me, it's a big group. And it continues to grow. Happy birthday, Uncle Ray!

Family Fun

I'm from Tennessee, and my entire nuclear family still lives in our hometown. This is difficult for me, every now and then, because we are such a close-knit bunch, and it's hard to be so far away from the people I love so much. But we all try to prioritize family time, often vacationing together, planning extended family vacations far in advance. Tony typically reserves his significant vacation time for these opportunities, but thankfully I have the luxury of being much more flexible. In recent years I've made a personal commitment to making at least one driving trip by myself with the kiddies to visit family in Georgia and/or Tennessee, both mine and Tony's.

Caroline, Gillian, and I are at my sister's and brother-in-law's house right now, and we've been having a great time with our family. (The Byrd boys are holding down the fort at home, doing plenty of male bonding, I'm sure.) We always love "cousin time", but this summer we have added incentive to make sure we get it: the addition of a new cousin! The Hammond family returned from the other side of the world early in July having been to China to retrieve my newest niece, Lia. She is a sweet angel, and we three Byrd girls are enchanted. She loves her Aunt Heather, obviously . . .

So for the last couple of days, my girls have been in hog heaven. Gillian and Ella are like two little peas in a pod, and Caroline and Graham and Will (my twin nephews who are Caroline's age) are also inseparable. I, too, am having a great time, of course. It's always good to be home. A little everyday life with family . . .

The kiddos had a ball at Oma's and Papa's house . . .

Dad took me on a tour of all the new construction going on at Lee University. I've been on many similar tours over the past 14 years since I've moved away from home, because there's always something under construction at Lee. It's truly amazing. But I never get tired of tromping through dirt and gravel, stepping over random construction paraphernalia, shaking sheetrock dust off my shoes, meeting contractors, painters, sweepers, framers, electricians, and countless other craftsmen. I never get tired of holding on for dear life on the suped-up golf cart with Mario "Dad" Andretti at the wheel. I never get tired of hearing about each project, right down to the most minute details about square footage, paint colors, or what any given nook or cranny might be used for. All of this information is carefully catalogued and immediately retrievable from the expanse of my father's mind, and especially when it's mixed together with the enthusiasm that comes from what I know is a bottomless well of passion for the students whose lives will be made far better (whether or not they actually realize it) by all this brick and mortar, it is truly fascinating. And contagious. I love this place. Here's a pic of Dad and me inside the entryway of the new religion building . . .

Now there's more fun to be had in Cleveland, and today we'll add my brother and his family to the mix, as they just returned last night from their own family vacation. So . . . more posting to come.

Needy Me

Sometimes a girl's just got to get away. You know, take a little break from the demands and pace of everyday life, whatever that may entail. For me it entails a fairly busy schedule, even during the summer, meeting the needs of my three kids, fulfilling my role as the wife of the pastor of a great little church in Tampa. I love all of that. It's what I do and who I am. And every so often I do get away briefly by escaping to Target and stretching out that grocery run to a couple of hours or so. Or I might meet a friend for coffee and enjoy a little chick time, or go for a run. And there are vacation times, too, like the one our family took recently to Yellowstone and Canada (and yes, I'm still planning to post all about that . . .). In fact, I'm "away" right now, in Tennessee with my girls visiting my family up here. That is all really good stuff, and I need it and am deliberate about making sure it happens.

Sometimes, though, what I really need has more to do with the fact that I'm a wife who wants and needs her husband's undivided attention. Sure, I get that attention at home, like after the kids have gone to bed and I put my head in Tony's lap and watch SportsCenter with him. For real. I'm not saying that with my tongue in my cheek. I really do like watching sports of any kind with Tony, and I value that time with him. We have other chat time during the day, too, and he's great about truly focusing on me when we're talking. Active listening, as they say. We have a wonderful relationship, and I'm not kidding when I say that at times I'm brought to tears when I think about how much I have to be thankful for in my marriage. It's one of those rare ones, I believe.

So when I say that sometimes a girl's just got to get away, what THIS girl means is that sometimes I've just got to get away WITH Tony and NOBODY else. Not our kids, not extended family, not friends . . . nobody. It's a whole different kind of getting away, because, quite frankly, it's all about me. Perhaps a better way to say that is HE'S all about me. Now, that might sound, at best, a little selfish, and at worst, needy, in the whiny, clingy, self-centered sort of way. But that's not really what it is. I've come to understand that God wired me, as a woman, to seriously NEED to know that my husband wants to be with me, just me, because I'm fabulous and smart and witty and beautiful and, well . . . other stuff. I think we all need that. And by God's grace, I have a husband who gets that. He gets that I need his undivided attention sometimes, and that I want to give him MY undivided attention, and that sometimes we need a few days when WE can just be about US.

Now, here's what's really cool. Not only does Tony understand how important this is, he actually does something about it. So, last Friday, after he left to take Caroline to soccer camp and I was getting Ellis and Gillian ready to spend the day with and sleep over at the home of some friends of ours, our phone rang. It was Tony. Our friends were coming to pick up the kids in 30 minutes, so Tony told me I needed to hurry. To pack them for TWO nights, with a separate bag for each. Pack a bag for myself, also for two nights. Casual clothes, including a swimsuit and a couple of beach towels. He'd be home at 1:30. Be ready to leave by 2:00. See you soon . . .

I was giddy. Couldn't stop smiling. I told Ellis and Gillian what Daddy had said, knowing I was releasing them from secret-holding bondage. They weren't too sure about that at first, and when I asked Gillian where she was staying on Saturday night (Ellis, I knew, would be at a birthday sleepover), she paused thoughtfully then said, "Daddy says I'm not supposed to tell you." Poor little thing. I could practically see the dilemma forming itself in her brain. I quickly let her off the hook and told her I knew about the big surprise. What relief!

So, all went according to Tony's masterful plan, and that afternoon he whisked me away to a condo on the water, took me out for dinner and a movie, and we spent the weekend with nothing else to occupy our attention except one another. There were a couple of hours on Saturday when Tony had to work on his message for church the next day, but that was just fine. We sat out on the balcony overlooking the inlet, he with his laptop and I with a bunch of beads and elastic thread. I made a couple of bracelets and fixed a broken watch band, and I even looked over Volume 1 of the teacher's edition of our new reading curriculum for school this year. We listened to passing boats and jet skis, fish jumping in the water. Summertime, and the livin' is easy . . . fish are jumpin' . . . Couldn't help but hum that song. We even saw three dolpins bob and dive and make their way through the inlet and back out into the ocean. Pure bliss.

Later we went to the pool and dozed on the deck chairs, swam some laps. I snapped a few pictures, because I knew I would want to blog about this experience. I knew I would want to tell my gigantic reading audience what a wonderful husband I have and show how utterly relaxed and happy I was on this litte trip with him.

Here's me trying to look relaxed:

Then I thought, Maybe I shouldn't look like I barely have any hair . . .

Then I thought, Well that's stupid, and shouldn't Tony be in this picture, too? I tried to make that happen, but he thought it would be funny to make dumb faces, instead of just following my instructions and having a "relaxed look" on his face . . .

And then it was all just really funny, and we had a hard time keeping a straight face for our "we're so relaxed" picture . . .

Anyway, a long post later, here's my point: Tony knows me. He knows what I need. He knows that sometimes what I need is just him. And he delivers. I'm not sure it would be possible for me to love him more.