Archive for April, 2009


Also, poor Ben

I really can’t share the whole story right now because it is way too fresh… but we spent Saturday in the ER with Ben because he severely cut his hand. It was actually his middle finger. All I will say is that it was way too much blood for my mommy heart to bear and thank God he can still use his finger. He needed stitches and a good cleaning… and they think it will be fine and there will be no need for surgery… but we are still waiting to see how it heals. Sigh. Sigh. Sigh. (Pray for his little hand and heart… it was traumatic for him.)


old house

Did I mention our house sold (?). The question mark implies we have two weeks to closing… so it is not quite final. But we have been told it is a done deal. It is a very exciting and a very busy time. Davy is working a ton on the new place trying to get as much ready as possible. I need to post pictures. Will later!


happy dance

I got a new job. I am so thrilled. I honestly can breathe again. I, as many of you know, have been greatly challenged this year by my teaching assignment. I believe, in hindsight, it is going to have been a valuable year full of struggle and training. But this last week I found out that I had gotten a transfer to a school that is much closer to my house (the new one) and that shares a campus with the elementary where Ben and Summi will go. At this point, I could not have planned anything better. So, I am full of hope now, realizing this year has been necessary, but also thankful to be awarded a new job opportunity. Did I mention I will live two blocks from my new school? I was definitely doing a happy dance when I found out I got the job. Smile for me, because I am thankful.


this is



sheer joy…



trouble in the making…


my boy…


my girl…




It once again has been way too long since my last post. My blog cronies seem to be taking a breather at the moment as we must all be out enjoying the beautiful spring weather. Hopefully that is the case. Big news here: offer on house! yea! also had an interview today at a different school for next year. Am hesitant to post details because I am definitely unsure about whether it will work out. I am literally praying for an open door somewhere. House #2 is still getting a makeover. See pictures below. These were taken a couple weeks ago and I need to add updated ones. Miss you all! Hang in there and yes, do get outside and enjoy the beautiful spring weather. More details later on everything!


The makeover king himself.

img_0575Real exciting, I know. Will eventually be master bath.

img_0580Don’t you love the pool fence. Ugly, but necesary.

And we laid all the sod, and cleaned the pool from the cesspool it once was.


Enjoy your week, I will try to check back sooner! Love you all.



If you read the post below and were thinking…

I am blown away that a friend of mine blogged about the same thing… just from a different perspective. On the same day. Read if interested.


no chance

***Just so you know, the post below is pretty heavy, skip it if you don’t feel like hearing about something uncomfortable. Seriously.

Lately, I have been thinking quite a bit about something I wish I wasn’t . I have been thinking about guns. Honestly, I think about them a lot. I can’t quite pinpoint when this all began, but it has been quite a while that they have occupied an intangible place in my mind and heart, stirring up trouble and always hitting a spot so raw, it as if my breath has been taken from me. I’m not just writing this to state an opinion, because I am not sure an opinion is contained in this river of thoughts and emotion. I think I am writing to see how others feel and if I am weird or sensitive, or alone in this.

When did I begin to hold a place for something so unfamiliar to me first hand? When did my heart begin to feel so bad? I have held a gun. I have loaded a gun. I have shot a gun. I have even practiced at the shooting range. And since the first time I did all of those things, in every moment I encountered a gun, I have hated that experience with a green void from within me. 

Every day someone is shot. I watch the news, or read the news. And from black and white and color images and flashes of light, those gunshots sound good. They are glamorized and talked about in tones of confidence and assurance. There are soldiers who hold a large gun, and civilians who hold a small gun. Some fire their gun often and some may have never really fired it in the moment they intended to. 

Today a man was shot outside the school my children attend. I know it sounds horrible and scary. It was a little bit. I guess he was robbing cars and ran from the cops, and at some point they shot him. The kids were locked down and apparently very safe. But this man was not safe. He was shot. He was breaking the law and I get it, he may have been a very dangerous man for all I know. But the fact that he bled on the pavement where I will now walk really bothers me. It bothers me that a gun was fired somewhere near my children. It bothers me that this man, this criminal, had the very breath sucked from him so quickly. I don’t know if he had a gun and I am not really sure if that is important. The point for me is that it bothered me so much that they shot him.

A few weeks ago a girl that went to a high school in the school district where I teach was shot. She was a senior at Memorial High School and apparently she was a nice girl who liked to party. She would be walking across the stage in less than two months and now her parents are mourning her premature death. She was at a party, where I am sure there were drugs and alcohol. A friend of hers, a young man, had just gotten a new handgun. He showed it off proudly, excited at his purchase, this symbol of power. He, in an act of stupidity, and thinking the gun unloaded, held it to this young woman’s head and pulled the trigger. It was loaded and she bled to death in front of a group of her closest friends, the year she was set to graduate. So senseless, so incomprehensible to me. She never had a chance.

About two years ago, one of my neighbors who I often saw, came home late at night to his home. As we slept quietly in our houses, he was shot less than a block from my house. He died in his front yard. He never had a chance, that gun killed him so fast. 

When I was in college, my parents and brother were spending a quiet night at home doing the usual. On that particular quiet night, several gunmen entered the house, holding them all hostage and placing the gun to my brothers head. I was not home at the time, but my imagination serves me well. I still picture that day in my head and cry as I write about the day my family was almost robbed of their chances. For whatever reason, they were not shot. The gun did not take their breath. Thank God I do every day for the fact I have a family.

When I was six, I had this one nightmare I still remember. I dreamed that as my family sat on the couch on a sunny weekend afternoon, I sat on the floor, facing them as their backs were to our back door. In the dream, a man entered, held a finger to his lips, and showed me a gun. I do not remember anything past that. But I promise, this was the vision that still fills my mind about my first gun.

So, today, as a man, perhaps a bad man, bled to death on the pavement I walk, I have to share how I feel about all this. I am not okay with any of it. I am not okay with the idea that I might need an object to feel safe. I am not okay with the idea that a weapon can steal the breath of life so quickly. I am not okay with a gun being in my home. I am not okay with living in fear. I am not okay with the fact that a gun is a machine that some people mis-use. I am not okay with any of it. 

This post was not intended to turn into some political mumbo-jumbo argument about gun control. I know guns exist, I know they serve some people some purpose. I am just saying I hate them and I hate what they do to people. Had to write, thanks for listening.

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