When it Rains, Part Four

I heard laughter and shouting. I immediately saw Hogan coming to my aid. "Are you okay?"

I couldn't stop laughing long enough to tell him I thought I was fine. I rolled over onto my tailbone, and it was instantly clear to me that the padding I have back there just isn't enough to be falling from the piggy back of a six foot four man and landing on my rear end. Visions of myself carrying a one of those inflatable donut seat cushions with me all around the school building to comfort my aching booty instantly plagued me, and I couldn't stop laughing.

One of the kids reached for my hand to help me up, and I realized then that my hand was hurting, too. Teachers and students gathered round, inquiring about my welfare, and together we laughed about the craziness of it all.

But there was a problem. I was really hurt. I could feel my forearm and hand swelling, and clearly it wasn't okay. I reassured the kids that everything was fine, but then I handed my van keys to Tiffany. I didn't want to drive with kids in the car if there was any chance that I wasn't at my best, so she took over.

Once in the van, I giggle-whispered to her "I think my wrist is really hurt. I mean, if I could stop laughing I would totally cry right now." Being the good friend that she is, she took me to the QT and let me stay in the car while she got ice for my injury.

While the kids purchased their midnight snacks, Caleb climbed into the back seat. I turned to him and said (still laughing), "Caleb, I think I broke my arm."

Caleb shook his head, "I think I broke my pride."

And at that moment the grown-up piggy back racers realized that we were all injured just a little. But they don't make x-rays and casts for pride.

We retired to the hotel, and I decided to call the 24 hour nurse to see if I needed medical attention. You see, when I was younger I had a bit of a reputation as a drama queen, and there was absolutely no way I was going to the emergency room to have them tell me I was fine. There were no protruding bones, so I figured my chances of being badly injured were slim. But if I got there and they said I was just a wimp, I probably would have slammed my arm in the automatic door to avoid the humiliation of being hypochondriacal.

The trusty phone nurse told me to go to the doctor, and the worsening pain told me she was right. Tiffany and I called the boys, and Hogan won the prize to get to take me to the emergency room.

Tiffany: Did you call Trey?
Me: No. He's probably asleep, and he can't do anything anyway. I'll just call him in the morning.
Tiffany: Really?
Me: Really. He's three hours away, and it will just keep him up all night.

But my friend is wise, and she finally asked, "Am I going to be in trouble if you don't call him?" So I sent him a facebook message to see if he was still awake, and then when he texted me that he was, I called him. I'm such a good wife.

I met Hogan at the car, we programmed "hospitals" into the trusty Garmin, chose the closest one and headed off to find a Dallas area emergency room on midnight of a Friday night. That's when the next adventure began.

When it Rains, Part Three

Friday night. A private TASC party at Six Flags Over Texas. Good times were a'comin'.

We entered the park, full of glee, and headed to the food area. A catered dinner was part of the package deal, and our designated meal time was quickly nearing its end. We feasted on mass produced barbecue and cole slaw, and many attempts were made to give away the packaged hard-as-a-rock oatmeal raisin cookies that served as dessert. Not me, though. As soon as I realized the "raisins" were actually raisin-like flakes with no gelatinous consistency whatsoever, I ate every last bite.

Finally. Finally it was time for the main event -- roller coasters! I must start this part of the story by saying that I have nothing against roller coasters. I've even spent many days of my life being exhilarated by the ups and downs and arounds of the roller coasters at that very park.

It's the heights I dislike. More specifically, it's being hurled toward the ground from sixteen stories up at a high rate of speed that I dislike. Something about that is clearly unnatural and, dare I say, dangerous.

In addition, I dislike being spun in a circle at a high rate of speed. More specifically, I dislike feeling like I'm going to puke.

As I'm sure you can already tell, I was a barrel of fun at Six Flags.

Our group neared the first death coaster, and I kindly volunteered to hold everyone's stuff while muttering something about pawning all of their cell phones for cash if they plummeted to the afterlife on the crazy thing. I'm sure I threw in a "don't say I didn't warn you" somewhere in there, too.

Thus I became the "hold our bags" person. I was quite glad to take on this role because it removed some of the stigma of being a coward (although I like to think of it as being a rational human being). As the kids and other sponsors coasted up and down and around and up again, I manned fourteen or so backpacks, some cell phones, and a camera or two, all while convincing myself that I could totally win every arcade game in the park.

I studied the games. I marvelled at the giant prizes awarded for such simple feats as knocking milk bottles down with a baseball. I watched contestants and critiqued their performances in my head, silently cringing as they attempted an underhand throw when clearly an overhand throw was the only solution.

Yes, I held stuff and pondered my own imaginary arcade abilities for several hours.

As we began to exit the park, Tiffany reminisced about the year that her feet were so tired that the StuCo president gave her a piggy back ride all the way to the car. Of course, the natural progression of that thought was an announcement that we should have a piggy back race.

"Hogan and Caleb will carry us, and it will be SO FUN!" she announced. (Hogan and Caleb are our esteemed colleagues, often referred to as "the boys," and we love them.)

Then she asked Caleb which one of us he wanted.

I'm still pretending not to be offended that he picked her. Interestingly, people get Tiffany and me confused at school all the time, and at some point in the fall when we were getting healthy together we discovered that we not only have the exact same measurements, but we also weigh exactly the same -- somewhere around 105 if I remember correctly.

So Hogan got stuck with me. Since I am older than Tiffany, I decided that I likely had a greater gravitational pull because of my longer time on the earth, and this provided us with a handicap. However, Hogan is tall and has really long legs. I estimated that this made up for any issues presented by gravity. If we were going to race, then Hogan and I were going to RACE. In case you don't know, I like to win stuff.

Based on the footage you're about to see, a few more people joined in, too. I lost count because I didn't care. They were all going to be behind us anyway.

Luckily, one of the StuCo kids was prepared to witness our greatness, and now all of posterity is graced with this video. Hogan and I are the team on your right at the beginning of the race as you look at your computer. I don't want to sound bitter, but I think you can tell we got the bad lane.

That's right. Our dedication to winning caused us to falter, and I became a woman down. I thought instantly that I had broken my tailbone, but I couldn't stop laughing long enough to figure it out.

Boy was I wrong.

When it Rains, Part Two

Thursday night. A quick dinner at the Steak and Shake (why don't we have one of those in College Station?), and then we were back at the convention center for the opening rally. This is interesting to me because each school running for office presents its platform in a one-minute speech. I think the highlight was the tiny little girl in her sky-high heels and business suit. Her school's slogan - "LEAD OUT LOUD!" - and every time she said a syllable of the slogan she cast her arms into the air just like a little dictator. She entertained me.

Next came the keynote speaker of the evening, Keith Hawkins. He conveyed his message beautifully as he encouraged students to not see others for who they are but for who they can become, to practice kindness even when it isn't earned. He described looking at life as a rent versus own situation, and encouraged us all to own our own lives, no matter how great or how horrible. He grew up in a difficult situation in which his biological father left and his mother married a drug addict. He lived his high school years not knowing where his next meal was coming from, and he described the way he began to "own" his situation and ultimately own his future.

Of course, I cried thinking of all of my students who SO need to hear this message. I fantasized about bringing him in as a guest speaker and my students choosing to step up and own their own futures, and the wonderful, life-changing day that would be. Then I realized it probably costs a fortune to have him speak and came back to reality.

After the rally, we were back to the hotel and the kiddos were all tucked safely into their beds (or at least room-checked) by midnight. This was my third consecutive night to stay up past midnight (I didn't mention the Farr and Tiffany keeping me up well after one a.m. the night before just talking), and I was starting to feel it.

Friday morning we left the hotel by 7:15 and stopped at the Quick Trip for breakfast yet again. The QT is quite the phenomenon, and I need someone to open a QT here in College Station. The plethora of flavored coffees, breakfast sandwiches, donuts and pastries, and general good cheer would make a killing here. Entrepreneurs, you can thank me later.

We watched campaign skits all morning. All I'll say is this: These were, for the most part, mediocre compared to the professional presentation our kids put on last year. (I'm not biased or anything.)

Because our school was responsible for balloting immediately after lunch, we didn't really have time to eat our own lunch. Not discouraged, we each took our rented vans to different local establishments and had our kids order to go. All but one van ended up at Sonic (Farr's van stopped at a gas station taco place - apparently they were the brave group), and we made it back in record time.

Tiffany passed out assignments to our fabulous, super-responsible, ballot-taking kids, and we sponsors stood around looking useful (me pretending to grade again) until we were dismissed for a few hours while the kids attended table talks. I really needed to get those timed writings done, and I was so motivated that I spent the afternoon doing this:

Thanks, Tiffany, for getting a pic of my slumber. It was heavenly.

Friday night, Six Flags, and the injury of the year (with video) is to come. Check back for part three!

When it rains...Part One

Last week I had the pleasure of accompanying the Consol student council to the Texas Association of Student Councils State Convention in Arlington, Texas. Consol is serving as the state secretary school this year (you can read more about the road to state office here), so there were some additional responsibilities besides just being convention-goers. I was glad for the chance to travel with some great kids and great friends to see our school do great things.

The trip began with a Ranger game at the Ballpark. It was freezing, but it was a fabulous time. I think the best part was that the girls who were sitting behind me had not been to a baseball game before. They bought foam fingers and cheered their little heads off. We had to help them out with a couple of the basics (sorry, girls, you're not supposed to root for the other team's batter unless you want us to get beat up by the drunk guys ten rows up), but they were instant baseball fans.

The next day was a bit slower for everyone except our StuCo sponsor and President, as they were up and going at the crack of dawn. We met them for lunch at Razzoo's (one of my all-time favorite restaurants) and I was happy to see that the kids appreciated the ridiculous menus and super-spicy Cajun deliciousness of the place.

Thursday afternoon found the kids browsing the campaign booths at the convention center while I sat in the hospitality room pretending to grade timed writings. I say pretending because by this time I was tired. I had been up past midnight for about three nights in a row preparing to be out of town and gone from school, and I'm kind of a baby about my sleep. By 10:30, I like to be under the covers, pretty much without exception. I've always been this way, and I think it must have kept me out of some trouble when I was younger. I just didn't want to stay up late enough to do anything too crazy.

Anyway, as I re-read the same timed writing for the third time, Scott (another StuCo chaperone/fan extraordinaire, like me) came running into the hospitality suite. "Tiffany says we have to come into the big meeting room right now!" We're not crazy -- when it comes to StuCo we do what Tiffany says, when she says to do it, so off we ran.

About three minutes later I found myself standing this close to Jason Castro. He was there to promote awareness for an organization that fights malaria across the world. I'm sure he couldn't have admitted it to the group, but I know in my heart he was singing directly to me. I am quite in love with my husband, but I must say that my new friend J.C. (that's what I like to call him now) is a beautiful, beautiful man. He sang. We swooned. It was awesome.

But this impromptu interaction with a star was only a glimpse of the crazy ride the weekend would turn into.

Shakespeare and Doc Brown?

Yesterday I was wearing my English department tee shirt which depicts William Shakespeare and a quote from Julius Caesar. Tucker has seen this shirt many times before, but for some reason he was studying it in great detail yesterday.

Tucker: Who is that on your shirt again?
Me: William Shakespeare. He's a brilliant author.
Tucker: And what does it say again? (the font is really scripty)
Me: "He think too much, such men are dangerous." Do you know what that means?
Tucker: Yes! Wait. I mean, no.
Me: It means that the way you become powerful and strong and can do whatever you want in life is to think! To use your brain! Isn't that great?
Tucker (ponders my words for a moment): You mean like the doctor in Back to the Future?

Um. I didn't see this coming. Back to the Future? Really? It took me a second to realize that Doc did make a car that was able to time travel. I suppose he had to use his brain a great deal to make that happen.

Me: Yes, Tuck, just like the doctor in Back to the Future.
Tucker: Sweet.

My KeKe

This is the most adorable four year old on the planet (holding his first crawfish at his first crawfish boil at Aunt Carol and Uncle Mike's).

When he's mad, he's satan's little spawn, but when he's happy, he radiates joy to everyone lucky enough to be around him.

Spring break has made him pretty happy. He got to spend the first three days with his Grandma and Pop, and I think he's still giddy about it. When I talked to him on the phone Monday night, I asked what he had been doing all day. "Well, I just been farmin' and fishin' and bike ridin'." That's pretty much Keaton's perfect day.

There are two new calves at my parent's house, one male and one female. According to him, all the cows have names, but I'm pretty sure he's the only one who knows which cow is which. He thinks it's hysterical that he named the new baby cow "Bull Calf" instead of naming the bull calf "Bull Calf." It's especially funny when he confuses himself while trying to explain this hilarity to others.

The older boys all have bb guns, but poor little Keaton was gun-less. Nonetheless, there is a story that we keep hearing from Tucker and Keaton about Keaton borrowing Tucker's bb gun to shoot at a chicken. As Keaton tells it: "I didn't hurt that chicken, I just shot his feathers off." I'm not entirely certain that this actually happened, so it may be the fish tale of the trip. I do know he coaxed his Pop into letting him shoot the .22 pistol (with help and close supervision, of course).

Friday morning I took my little story teller to get his allergy shot, and there were three nurses doting over him (as usual). Out of the blue he announced "I got hurt!" Of course the nurses were concerned and asked what happened. Here's what they learned:

"Well, I was goin' into the woods to see that dead cow, and I got hurt on the wires of the fence. That bob wire just got me right on the back when I was crawlin' under it!"

I shook my head and told them I wished he was making this one up, but there really is a dead cow off in the woods, and the boys really did make several trips to check it out. Of course they took their bb guns in case they saw a bobcat.

(Tucker asked before they left, "Mom, do bb guns kill bobcats or just people?")

One of the nurses really got into Keaton's story, so she asked if there were bugs on the dead cow.

Keaton loves the opportunity to expand a story, so he told her all about it: "Well, there was ants all over that cow's skin. And we could see the meat the ants were eatin'. We couldn't see any bones yet, though. Nope, it didn't have any bones." All of this coincided with his elaborate hand motions, pantomiming looking at the cow and the ants crawling all over the dead carcass. It cracks me up the way his eyes light up when talking about a dead cow. Maybe I should be more concerned.

Besides storytelling, Keaton has many other skills. For one, he plays the guitar and the piano. One day as he banged away on the piano I asked if he'd like to take lessons. He rolled his eyes at me and responded, "I don't need lessons! I can already play. Didn't you just hear me?"

He also plays great tricks on others. As I washed my face tonight, he turned off the light, starting giggling, and shouted, "You can't see anymore! The Lucktricity is out!"

This kid is a wild mess, but he entertains me more than anyone in the whole world.

The Contest

It seems that I'm really falling off the blogging wagon. This is sad because I love to write, and I know that writing more makes me better (see there, students), but I just haven't had the time/inspiration. I have made many excuses in my head, some of which are:

1) Sometimes my job can be really stressful. I have this problem of taking on more than I should. I don't mean "biting off more than I can chew" because I am pretty good at not taking on more assignments than I can do. What I mean is that I mentally take on more than I should. Somehow I find myself feeling personally responsible for every student at my school passing the ELA TAKS. Recently, I've also been overwhelmed by the apathy some of my students feel toward education, and I feel personally responsible for showing them that education is the only way to the future they dream of. This has consumed me a little in recent weeks.

2) Grad school is a lot of work, and I like to make 100s. Don't get me wrong, it should be a lot of work, but I should let go of the idea that 100s on everything are essential. I made a 98 in my last class, and it didn't kill me.

Eh. These are just excuses. I shall make it my goal to post at least once each week, both for the therapeutic element and for the fun of it.

Today I would like to post about burps. That's right. Burps.

Keaton strongly believes that burps are the funniest thing on the planet. He burps as often as possible, and after each burp he laughs his "I just did something hysterical" laugh. If no one else responds, he announces, "Did you hear that? I just went 'BBUUUUURRRPPPP' and it was really loud." He repeats this until he gets some sort of response from whomever is nearby.

One child burping all the time is bad enough, but then Keaton did the only thing he could do to get Tucker involved in the shenanigans. He made it a contest.

One random day about two weeks ago:
Keaton: Tucker, I burped seventeen times today. How many times did you burp?

Tucker (concerned that he was losing this impromptu contest): Um. Uh. Um. BBUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRPPPPPPP. I can burp louder than you.

Keaton: BUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRPPPPP. Now I burped eighteen times.

And so the contest began. It continued on and on with entries like these.

Tucker: Keaton, today I burped twenty times at lunch. That's a lot of burps!

Keaton: When we were outside I could burp so loud you could hear it in the back yard!

Of course there were also the entries we got to witness first person -- random, repetitive belching in all sorts of voices and all volume levels, always followed by raucous laughter. It was getting out of control.

Finally, Saturday morning, Trey put his foot down.

Trey: It is very rude to just burp all the time. I certainly hope you boys don't burp like that at school or when you're with other people. I've had enough.

Tucker: But it's a contest!

Keaton: And it's funny!

Trey: The contest is over. The next person who burps gets a spanking!

A somber mood passed over the boys as they realized their beloved two-week old contest was over. At least it was over until that afternoon.

They had cokes with lunch.

Before his first big burp, Keaton announced, "If I burp, it's not my fault. It's the coke's fault."

And so the belching began again, always followed by an announcement about it being the coke's fault, or the cereal's fault, or the chicken nugget's fault. Always followed by laughter.

Honestly, I don't want them out in the world burping all the time, but I'm kind of glad to see the contest come back. They're just boys, after all, and they were having so much fun.

And when Trey wasn't looking, I was winning. :)