A Child Just Like Me...

For those close enough to learn my personal idiosyncracies it is no secret that my comfort/worry stone has always been the ear. My family tells stories of little hands finding the ear in the car, in the middle of the night, whenever completely inconvenient. The women in my family tell tales of earring-less days because of my every roving little hands. I have always found these stories comforting -- evidence that despite all the changes that come with growing up somethings never change. Lest those neophytes to this revelation think me crazy beyond all reason let me say as a side note that I share my love for the ear lobe with Former President Ronald Reagan -- a fact shared during the week of news coverage for his funeral. Back on point...it never entered my mind to consider how absolutely annoying my endless ear search must have been for my family. That is until Jack developed his own habit.

Jack's worry stone is not the ear but rather the belly button, his own fortunately; however, because he refuses to sleep under a blanket and thus must wear footie pajamas his belly button is often inaccessible. Consequently, Jack has turned his attention to the lower half of the face, specifically the chin and lips. He digs his razor-like claws into skin in an effort to lull himself to sleep. It is the MOST annoying event of our day. Yet I let him continue his activity primarily because it is one of the few times of the day when he is still and quiet and snuggly. He crawls into a lap, flops his head against a shoulder, sticks one finger in his mouth and the other little hand begins its blind search for the comfort stone. And when I reach the pinnacle of frustration I remember the stories of my family and know that Jack deserves the opportunity to hear the same stories and feel the same comfort from them. I just hope he grows out of the habit earlier than I did (I still play with ear lobes...I'm an addict); it will be awkward for a 17 year old to play with his mother's face before he can sleep -- I doubt the guys on the football team will be able to overlook that one.

I should learn to save...

This is the 3rd time I have attempted this entry. The first time events were fresh and the mind was cluttered but clear. That was before Jack taught himself to unplug the computer. The second time I sat down and attempted to re-create the first but only resulted in a trite confession that most, including myself, would find boring at best. There was no way that the 2nd draft could ever have the oomph that the first did -- the issue is somewhat resolved and considering it is Wednesday, all my reserve fuel has been spent for the week, finding me exhausted at 8:30...willing myself to stay awake longer than the preschooler next door and the old folks across the street.

Thus...no entry...only news...as of today I have officially been given control of the entire Advanced Placement English Language and Compostion (English IIIAP) course. My superior in the dept has taken a job as a curriculum specialist and passed the torch along to me. It is a bittersweet appointment; I am excited about the prospect of revamping some curricula choices and yet I am bit forelorn about losing the possibility of taking the English IVAP spot. I was, in a strange way, looking forward to being that quirky English literature teacher. You know the one -- weird room, crazy teaching methods, even more bizarre reading/viewing selections. C'est la vie!

The first official

It's official...I have finally climbed on the blogging wagon. Honestly, I have no idea why I decided to do this. Actually that's not exactly true -- I know WHY I wanted to blog but I have no idea why I decided to actually start blogging. Let's start at the top I suppose. The blog is entitled "My Cluttered Brain." I have noticed that the older I get and the more complicated and involved my life becomes, the less time I have to talk to myself about all the issues that consume my time. (Yes, I talk to myself on a regular basis). I have found of late, however, that that the older Jack gets the less time I have to interact with my own thoughts; thus, the blog was created. Hopefully, even if no one reads it, notices it, responds to it at least I might have the opportunity to put on "paper" the things that seem to clutter my brain.

Why not a journal? After recently destroying 4 different journals from my youth -- all with approximately 4 entries each and replete with horribly embarassing love confessions -- I have decided that journaling does not have enough accountability for me. I need an audience lest I spiral down a dangerous path of self-righteous babble.

So the earth shattering thoughts for today (there are several): First, I fell up the stairs. That's right, I said UP the stairs...at school...during the passing period. Let me paint a mental picture. As it is currently TAKS week, I was comfortably dressed in jeans and a spirit shirt, sporting my new sneakers. Laden with bags of papers not to mention my purse, I took off for my study hall class with one minute before the tardy bell. While it is unadvisable for students to be late, it is extremely poor taste for teachers to be late! I attempted, despite the excrutiating lack of leg length, to scale the stairs two at a time. At the last stair, my shoe caught and I stumbled. Yes, I attempted to right myself but unfortunately I became irreversibly tangled in my belongings and crashed face first into a brick wall. Several scraps and bruises later, I arrived to my study hall a fashionable two minutes late (I had to stop and clean up). I think the thing that has bothered me most about this event was not that it happened, but that I still truly care what others think -- including the 17 year olds who witnessed the crash. You would think I would have resolved my insecurities at this point in my life.

There is more...so much more...but Jack is finished with his bath and so duty calls...