Am I Nuts????

All year long I have complained. I have moaned, groaned and begged Jesus to let me stay in bed for five more minutes. I have gone in early, stayed late, and stood, agape, at the front of my classroom taking in the desks. All 28 of them.

I had almost 30 children in my 4th grade class this year. And we ain't talkin' the suburbs. We have stood toe-to-toe on issues like commas in a series, weekly multiplication tests, and who gets to use the new pencil sharpener.

We have gone round and round on who's turn it is to feed the fish (only 1 out of 4, that's 25%, made it through the year unscathed), who gets to be the energy saver and turn out the light, and whether or not they can be trusted to go run an errand for me by themselves.

I have graded placement tests, mountains of narrative and expository essays, middle of the year diagnostics, science projects, and end of the year exams.

I have waited for parents on parent- teacher conference night that never showed up.

I have prayed that some parents on parent-teacher conference night didn't show up.

I have given out Laffy Taffy for right answers, green "X's" for wrong ones, and crazy looks for strange ones (No, Bobby. Eight times six is not blue).

We have survived field trips, holiday parties, and charter busses (No, Bobby. We don't use the potty on the charter bus. Because I said so. Trust me.).

We learned about Ponce deLeon, adding and subtracting fractions with unlike denominators, and wondered if Desperaux would ever rescue the Princess Pea from the dungeon.

We dotted our "i's", crossed our "t's", played in refrigerator boxes at field day (Bobby, we don't try to implode the boxes. It is dangerous. Because I said so.), and sat through endless assemblies.

We complained when Ms. B. made us write forever...but hugged her tight when we all passed the FCAT Writes.

I have come home ragged, tired, and grouchy. I have said that I can not wait for Summer. 28 kids. I have said I felt like I ran a marathon.

So, why, when the last bus pulled out of the drive, and the last of Bobby's pencil shavings were swept, did I sit at my empty desk, look around at all the boxes packed, and treasures tucked away, and cry like a baby? Relief???? Or will I really miss the little buggers? I had decided on relief.

Fifteen minutes later, one of my students was knocking furiously at my door. I could see her smiling face through the little sliver of a window. I opened the door, and she shoved an envelope in my hand.

"Miss Beardsley!!! I ran all the way home to get your present! I forgot it!"

I opened it up, and inside was a handmade pink bracelet. She put it on my wrist and said, "Thank you, Miss B. I learned a lot this year. I will miss you."

She left and I decided, I am nuts. Because I will miss them, too.

Just Because I Love Them...

My friend, Hollie, does a thing on her blog on Wendesdays, I have noticed, called Wordless Wednesdays. I love it. She just posts a picture. Well, I am always late. So here are mine. For those of you who know me, the first one is Lewis. He is 15!!!!!!!!!

Rookie Mistake

After months of debate, my husband and I finally sat down yesterday and bit the bullet. We planned our summer vacation to Disney World. Let me rephrase that...I planned our summer vacation to Disney World.

Everything turned out so well. We are staying at a fabulous resort...we are there for the perfect amount of time. It all seemed to work out so well. We are even planning on giving the princess her very own princess make-over. Everything was working out, so, well, magically.

That is, until, she heard us discussing the trip. Cue scary horror flick music.

"Disney World? I see Mickey Mouse? Mommy, you come too? Please, Daddy? Mickey Mouse?"

Being the hip, current parents that we are, we wanted to be truthful. Honest. Keep our daughter, how do the kids say? In the know.

Well, ever since she heard our admission of, "Yes, darling. We ARE going to see Mickey. But, it isn't for awhile. You have sixty sleeps until we get there. Let us count to sixty," life turned out to be a little less Tinkerbell and a lot more Captain Hook.

We proceeded to count all of Mommy's fingers, Daddy's fingers, and Rylee's fingers. THEN, we counted Mommy's toes, Daddy's toes, and Rylee's toes. You would think the big picture would sink in. Toes plus fingers equal sixty. Girl, we aren't gracing Disney's doorsteps for quite awhile.

But alas, it didn't. Waking her up this morning was greeted with, "Mommmmmy....where is Mickey??? Mommmmmmmmyyyyyyyyy....I want my Mickey Mouse."

Moral of my blog...keep the magic a secret. Especially when they are three and a half (two at the ticket counter, wink, wink, nudge, nudge).

By the way...here is Rylee and Daddy making use of a Pottery Barn box...coincidentally the one our first wedding gift came in. We reduce, recycle, and REUSE. Take that for imagination, Mr. Toad's Wild Ride.

A Girl's Gotta Vent

So, here we go. It's time to "get ugly" as my little mother would say. In honor of Mother's Day, for all of those absolutely fabulous mother's out there (my friend Hollie included) I have to get some things off of my chest...

I know that a true lady is not supposed to say anything ugly. We are supposed to smile and later on, "God Bless her heart! I can't believe she went out in that outfit!!" But, today, I am out and out saying it. I have had ENOUGH.

My precious darling, Rylee, is not my biological daughter. I even hate to type that, it just sounds cheap. However, it is the truth. She lives with my husband and I full time and we are her parents. She calls me Mommy. However, another lady and I use the term extremely loosely gave birth to her LONG before I was in the picture. She has had her issues and I have prayed for her and have walked the good walk. I have done everything in my power to remain on that higher road. I can't anymore.

Today, while on a social networking site that shall remain unnamed, she popped up as someone I "may know." Being the person I am, I clicked on her picture, and she had recently updated her status as "Can not give up, a piece of my heart is missing." Her mood was "disappointed." WELL...LA TI DA.

This woman, again, I use the term loosely, has not attempted to call or see her child in TWO WEEKS. She has only seen her daughter THREE times since September. She only calls when she knows my husband is at work. She has no car, no place to live, and a week ago I saw her walking down the road with an undesirable, LAUGHING. Ladies, I know I am supposed to be the classy one. I am thirty, ahem, years old. BUT, I need to get it out. She pays for no doctor's bills, day care bills, food, clothes, toys, etc. She is living it up. Free as a bird. If she was so "disappointed" she would be banging our door down and calling. But, she isn't. I could never imagine not having my girl. I would walk to the ends of the earth to get her back. Another demon has taken hold and the biological revels in the land of no job, no responsibility.

Don't get me wrong. I love this little girl coloring in front of me with all of my heart. She is so wonderful and I could never imagine loving and caring for any little precious thing more than I do for her. She is my sun, moon, and I have never been prouder of anyone. I call everyone in my contacts when she learns a new vocabulary word. So, today, on Mother's Day, let's give credit where credit is due. Not to the people hosting pity parties for themselves because they feel guilty. But to the true, strong women who are in the trenches, doing it on the daily. Time outs, baths, "NO MOMMY's", accidents, messy rooms, baked beans down the front of their new Lilly Pulitzer dresses, and spilled glasses of apple juice. Those are the ladies that deserve it...my own Mama is at the top of the list for putting up with a brat like me all of these years. Especially during college, when I thought I was Paris Hilton.

Happy Mother's Day Ladies...you are beautiful.

PS-Here is an image that I love...she learned to love her Louis from the master...