Christmas

Are you tired of hearing about it yet?

Finn's first Christmas was wonderful. The ONLY bad thing about the entire experience was that his Aunt Ashley wasn't here. He got some amazing things: a pedal car, a sled, so many books and toys he hasn't even opened all of them yet. He was amazing, no crying, no tantrums, just a sweet angel.

Christmas Eve was spent at our house with Randy's family, and my parents stopped by too. It was relaxing, until the gingerbread house competition began, and then things got ugly pretty quickly. But, while I know there are others that don't share my unique sense of competitiveness, it was ugly in my favorite kind of way. I love competition.

Obviously...wait, I mean shockingly, Betty and I won the competition by a landslide, which made it even better.

Christmas day we opened Santa gifts at our house, Finn took a nap, and then we went to the Hoyle's for Christmas brunch. It was relaxing, and delicious, and perfect timing for Finn (so much is about timing). We then left to go to my parents house, and our timing fell apart a bit. We put Finn to sleep, and skyped with Ashley, and then our present-opening plan fell apart. My aunts and uncles showed up and so we didn't get to open gifts with our family first. We ate dinner, and got everything ready and then by the time we opened gifts, it was a free-for-all and insane and I didn't get to see my parents open their gift, or my nieces open their gifts. Finn was tired, and so not into it at that moment. He actually just wanted to play with Addy's shopping cart, and then he pushed her down so he could get to it...awkward.

But overall, Christmas was a wonderful success. I hope, so much, that I can bring the magic of Christmas to my children, so here's hoping that it works out that way. I know he will understand it so much more next year.

Okay, this blog is totally pointless...and I didn't think about it at all. Here's a picture to appease you, and I'll see you later.

Sometimes...

I forget how lucky I am.



Then, I look at him, and I remember.

"I was on MY high school paper."

There may be nothing IN THE WORLD that I hate hearing more than the phrase, "I was on my high school paper." Because...and I'm just going to say it, it's not the same.

The paper and yearbook I advise are serious. They do not have a gossip column, they have an argument each and every year about the journalistic integrity of publishing "senior bests." These kids are well-trained, and know journalism, know GOOD journalism. It's not a class or a club to them--it's a lifestyle. They live it and they breathe it. They know more about it than I do. They say things like "jerd" and "yerd" and "pica" and "do you think this should be a 10 or 11 font size" and debate it for hours. They want perfection, and they work damn hard to achieve their goals.

So when some jackass comes into my room, and says "Well, I was on my high school paper" what I want to say to you (but don't...because I CAN'T) is...

"I know where you went to school, and the fact that you were on some shitty, backwards, thrown together newspaper 10 years ago, at a school from 'the other side of the tracks' doesn't effing matter to me. The fact that you can throw around the most known court case in scholastic journalism history doesn't impress me either. Your experience making a crappy, half-assed 8 page paper four times a year contemplating the lives of exchange students, the best places to go for pizza or what you did over your summer break, doesn't even come close to the amount of work these kids (you'll notice I NEVER say me) do for this paper. They work their ASSES off for this paper, and you coming in here and demoralizing them by having the audacity to compare their work to the work you did in high school is horse-shit. Please don't hand me any of your 'advice' about censoring my students even more than you already have. Please don't give me 'suggestions' about changing my critique session (which has been the same for the last 40 years, the day AFTER publication) to BEFORE publication, because you think I should read and edit every damn word. I am not an editor, I am an adviser...learn the difference--quickly."

Now, let me be clear. Journalism is awesome, and if you were on your high school publications--YOU ARE TOO! Journalism makes you smart, it makes you think critically, and I think you are great; unless by saying "I was on my high school newspaper" you REALLY mean, "I know how to do this job BETTER than you." because you fucking don't.

Censorship

Okay, so (some of you) may know this, but I am very much against censorship. I am a journalism teacher and firmly believe in our right to self-expression.

However, lately in my life I have been finding myself censoring myself so, SO much. And I am trying to decide if this is "growth" or "copping-out"--because I honestly don't know.

I've had a rough few weeks. Now, this is going to be a bit whiny, and since no one reads (or comments) on this blog, I guess I just don't care. Nothing big or bad has happened. I am a very lucky person. I have a great life, but sometimes I just get into a funk, and I'm going to bitch about it. So deal.

So anyways, I've been feeling super lonely lately--like I want to cry, and hide in the closet, lonely. Like I look at my phone and think to myself "who can I call that will really listen to me" and no one comes to mind. This makes me sad. Now, don't get me wrong, I have great friends, but sometimes they get caught up in their own lives (jerks!), just like I do. And they tend to talk about themselves, or try to relate to me, or just don't listen. This is fine, seriously, it is. But I want someone to listen to me, and not to say "It'll be fine" or "you're lucky" or something equally as trite. i want someone to bitch with me. I want my sister.

Ashley has now been in Dublin for almost 5 months, and I just want her to be back, because there is no one that can listen to me bitch like Ashley can, and there's no one in the world that understands me like she does. Not even Randy. I miss her so much, and I think this is why I have been so crabby, and depressed lately. I miss her, and I can't do anything about it.

So, back to my original purpose...censorship. When I feel this way, there is probably about 343484563845603480 times a day where I want to say things to people...whether it's other teachers, kids, my husband, friends, or family. I want to tell them they are wrong, I want to tell them that they are dumb, and "why don't you listen to me" and "if you don't agree with me you're stupid," "you're a know-it-all" or "I thought of that first" or "I told you that, don't steal my lines" or "shut up" but I don't.

I let them talk, I let them say their piece, and I try my GD best to not say a word. Is this the right thing to do? Is this me being "mature"? I know the answer is probably, but I miss just being a bitch. I miss just saying whatever I want, and to hell with the consequences.

Maybe that's why I keep thinking about Ashley--I never have to censor myself in front of her...EVER. We have a lot of the same viewpoints, but we also respect each other. If I think she's being an idiot, I tell her; and she does the same--she will straight up tell me that I'm being a bitch--and that's a good thing. It might even turn into a huge fight, but we will always be best friends--even when we hate eachother.

I hate feeling lonely.

Random addendum:
I am also feeling confused...about what to do, where to go, who to be. How do I turn my life into what I want it to be? How do I grow my photography company? How should I do these things? I am lost. Stupid Ashley--come home.

Stepping into the Future.

Last week Finn took his first steps. It was really cool. He would take 1-2 steps, and then kind of leap into my arms. It happened on December 2.

It's awesome, but crazy. I'm still kind of in denial that this little baby...ummm, toddler? Is mine. It's so fun to watch him grow.

He says "Bye-bye" (when he wants to) and "no." He smiles and laughs and vrooms all over the place. He waves. He points. He gives kisses.

He loves so much, and sleeps so hard,and crawls so fast, and wants to be with mommy all the time. I love that.