A Little Bit Longer

Breathing in.

Breathing out.

Sometimes in an irregular pattern.

But they say that’s normal

for a baby

just learning to be here.

I know I should put her down

and go to sleep, too.

But I continue to listen

to her breaths.

I look at her tiny nose,

her full lips.

Just a little bit longer.

I’ll just hold her

and enjoy this

a little bit longer.

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Poison Dart Frog and SOL

“If you’ve been poisoned, you shouldn’t be talking.” It’s a reminder the fallen “flies” always need.  And they needed it once again during our morning game of “Poison Dart Frog.”

All of a sudden several of the “flies” on the opposite side of the circle erupted in laughter, my co-teacher included.  “Oh, G,” she said through her laughter.  “I need to write this down!” Then, she turned and started scribbling onto a post-it.

I’m not sure what G said, but I do know that I will get to read about it later on her blog.  Gotta love March and SOL!

I’m not June Cleaver.

“Can you put the discs for this audio book back in the right pockets?  I want to return it after the movie,” I ask my son as I drive to the movie theater.

He grabs the case to do as I ask, but I can sense his disapproval without even looking at him.  I wait for him to complain. He just can’t except I’m never going to me the mom that always puts things back where they are supposed to go.  Our house will never be in order.  I am not June Cleaver, to his constant disappointment.

“Why don’t you just put them back in the right place as you go?” There it is.

“I’m driving when I listen to it.  It wouldn’t be safe.”

“You’re the one that wants to drive,” he retorts, not being serious, but needing to give a smart response.  “No one said you need to go to work.”

“You’re the one who wants food and shelter,” I respond.  Got him.  I think.  But, I should know better…

“I never said that.  I just want WiFi.”

Oh…life with a teenager…

“To-mor-row.”

“Tomorrow…no….”  She pushed that little microphone and tried again, “Tomorrow!”

D walked by and noticed she was having some trouble with the text to speech feature on the iPad.  He tried to help.  “You have to talk like a robot. This is an android. It’s like a robot “

“What?”  She looked confused and had no idea what he was trying to say.

“You have to talk like a robot, so it understands you…because it’s a robot.”  D tries to clarify.  By her confused look, he obviously  figured out she still didn’t know what he was trying to say.  “Here, I’ll show you.”  Then, he touched the tiny microphone and said, “To-mor -row.”  This was followed by giggles from all of the kids around them (because he was saying it like a robot), but it worked!

 

 

Girl or Boy?

Today’s slice is a throwback to last spring…

The gel was on my tummy. This was the moment we had been waiting for… confirmation that the life growing in my tummy was a boy. There were only boys born in my family for the last twenty three years. This little one was a boy. No doubt!

The technician turned on the big screen and moved the thing to my stomach. A black and white image of the baby popped up on the screen.

We watched in silence.

“Alright, I know what it is. Tell me when you’re ready.”

I looked at Ryan, my husband, he kind of shrugged.

“I’m ready,” I said.

Then we waited. She reached up and hit a switch. Click!

The room lit up in a soft pink… I blinked. I looked around a bit confused… Pink lightbulbs lit the small room…

I’m having a girl?!

Overheard

I sat in a dark room working on plans while our class was at their special.  Suddenly, noise erupted from across the hall. stink bug

“It’s a stink bug!”

“I’m sorry I threw you, stink bug!”

“We’ll release it when we go outside,” I heard the poor teacher across the hall tell her students in an attempt to get them to settle and get back to work.

“She said we are going let it go!”

It doesn’t matter how old the kids or how experienced the teacher – if there is a bug in the room, there is no getting back on track…

“I hope that stink bug didn’t lay an egg!”

Apple Pie 🥧

He walked straight to the kitchen, pausing only to take off his shoes. I heard the rustling of the plastic bag as he set it on the counter and opened it. He saw the beautiful apple pie that his great grandma had made especially for him.

“Why does Ma always have to flex on people?” (Translation: Why is Ma always showing people up?) he says more to himself than to me. “We know Ma…You can bake. ”