I say to most anyone these days that football is my life. I follow it up with I'm so grateful my job changed so I can have the flexibility of being a mom and wife. I no longer manage people, so as my boss put it, I don't have to be a role model anymore -- please take that with a grain of salt, I still need to be professional. I can get to work later, after dropping my son off at school, because my husband is already at work. I can leave early if need be to get my son to practice or get him to a game. And, I can work from home if necessary.
Yet, with all this goodness bubbling over, I had kind of a breakdown yesterday morning. I snapped at my son -- had one of those mom of the year moments -- because I thought he wasn't being grateful.
And, I later talked to myself saying I do so much and no one says thank you. Instead I hear things like, why aren't my khaki shorts ironed (oh but two other pairs were ironed) or something like did you make rice (oh, but I made a home cooked meal it just didn't have rice).
I had a pity party and felt sorry for myself. I was angry, too. Between washing football uniforms, making meals for coaches, driving to any and every game . . .I need to get a brow wax -- yet there is no time for that. And, I need new make up, but can't get out to the store because we have some football something.
Yeah, I'm feeling underappreciated, but I don't know what kind of appreciation I want. I chose this life. I love football. I love going to my husband's games and I love going to Christopher's games. I enjoy cooking meals and I have time in my schedule to iron clothes.
So why the drama. I think I'm about to start, but it's more than that. I just quite haven't figured it out yet.
I discovered Twitter. Follow me at https://twitter.com/baylorgirl.
While I really don't get it quite yet . . .I think it is kind of fun. I read somewhere this medium is considered "micro-blogging."
I've been busy posting on my new blog, www.sixthgradeyear.blogspot.com.
Christopher and I post daily about our experiences as he attends middle school.
Come visit!
I dropped him off at sixth grade camp this morning. He'll get his locker, his books, his schedule and go to each of his classes. Parents aren't allowed in the building until 2 p.m. -- to write the checks for the cafeteria, PE uniforms, PTA and agendas.
I just dropped him off and he walked right in.
My sixth grader.
Gervais has a job! He's a full-time employee in the district coaching freshman football and basketball. He signed his paperwork about two weeks ago and has been going strong. Between football camp, benefits and payroll meetings and then studying for a bus driver's license, we are officially a football family.
Yippee!
He takes people off the bus when a fellow rider registers a complaint or concern with the driver.
After catching the 6:10 p.m. no. 10 at my usual no.10-catching spot -- which by the way it was about eight minutes late, a good thing in the end -- I had to transfer via the worst transfer spot, Travis Park. No good seats, bird poop everywhere and there are plenty of crazies lined up around the park. Many, many crazies.
Two minutes go by and I'm on the no. 8 to get to my Bexar County Democrats Communications Committee meeting at the party headquarters. Short wait because of the late no. 10.
One single short block later, the bus driver hops off and we're waiting. He strolls around the bus and we're waiting. We're not running early so no need to wait, but oh, we're waiting. And, I've got a stinker behind me.
He lights up a cigarette and we're waiting. It's about a total of five minutes -- which is like a lifetime on a bus -- and exasperation is beginning to set in amongst the riders. I look up and catch the eye of a mom with her son (about eight or nine) and she mouths "There was a problem." I look around and then look back at her and she whispers "There was a problem."
Then, the Via police officer shows up. She gets off the bus. Conversation occurs. And the police officer gets on the bus, walks to the back and asks a very drunk crazy guy to get off.
Mom and son get back on. Bus driver puts out the cigarette and then we're no longer waiting. We're off down St. Mary's.
She filled out some paperwork at the request of the driver.
I guess she indicated the problem.
Coming from the seat behind me spoken to a woman in the seat to my right who was eating gummi bears from a Ziploc baggie, "Ma'am, excuse me. Can I have one of those. They are my favorite."
The woman responded in somewhat of a shell-shocked fashion and gave him a gummi bear. He was happy. So happy, he strummed out a tune on his acoustic guitar.
Gummi bears make him happy. Wrote a song about it. Like to hear it. Here it goes.
Finally, I have time to mail out Christopher's school pictures. And, I'm not talking recent pictures. Yes, I've been a slacker and am sending out in packages 'Christopher through the years.'
So my in-laws and other family members will soon be receiving Fall and Spring 2007 pictures along with Fall and Spring 2008 pictures of my son.
But this begs the question. What do people do with school pictures? Seriously, we get a package both seasons and you can't just send them back. Nope, you spend the $40 to get an 8x10, a couple of 5x7s and some wallets. Oh, and now they thrown in laminated bookmarks and key fobs. The bookmarks are nice to give to relatives. Who doesn't need a bookmark, but a key fob?
I think in sixth grade the photographer visits once a year. Thank goodness.
How do you travel to and from work - personal vehicle, bus, subway/train, pedal power? What does it cost you per week in gas or fares?
Submitted by Jan.
Via, the public bus in San Antonio.
$15 a month gets me unlimited rides. I think it is a $1 one way if I paid that way.
I maintain my Egypt $6 a month parking spot in case I do have to drive into work. But when I drive I think of the $4 it is costing me to drive downtown and park all day, then drive back home.
I'm on the no. 10 and I love it.
Knocked out a few books this week on the bus, including The Great Man by Kate Christensen. Why I had this on my list to read, I have no idea. I believe it was from a 2007 summer reads list out of a newspaper.
Nonetheless, I read it.
Two biographers begin researching and studying Oscar Feldman, a painter who recently died. As a result of the research, you meet his wife, son, mistress, two daughters from the mistress, his sister and various friends. He was busy painting, but also canoodling around.
His sister, Maxine, apparently was a better painter, yet did not seek out the fame and accolades her brother did. She was muy bitter and cranky. Quite frankly, I did not like her character as she did disservice to herself. She's in her late 80s in the book and someone said ". . .she'd never achieved the kind of fame that her ambition required of her."
That hit home. You can have a ton of ambition and what you can achieve by harnessing the ambition and turning it into something of value can result in fame. Not the traditional sense of fame -- that which is associated with fortune, but I guess you could read fame as a form of recognition.
What is my ambition requiring of me?
One of the secrets Maxine, her sister-in-law and her mistress-in-law attempted to hide from the biographers involved a bet she had with her brother. She bet him she could paint in his style -- his genre: nudes -- better than he could of her style -- her genre: modern-like art with one or two specks of black on a white canvas. She won. And, signed his name to it so that they could trick others. The painting was purported to be his and hung in the Met. In the end, Maxine revealed the secret to a random newspaper reporter and suddenly had the fame her ambition required. She became more likable to friends and family. Her sister-in-law commented, ". . . long-thwarted ambitious people tended to be suddenly much nicer when they got the attention they felt they deserved."
ooooh. I mean I want to be successful, but not where it appears I'm simply being nice because I felt I deserved attention. What's the balance between ambition and achievements? Then how do you handle the fame with grace?
Maybe I've been focused on the achievement and not really understanding my ambition.
