Everyday Heroes Come in Many Different Forms

It doesn’t happen very often, but when it does, it has the potential to completely derail my entire day. I forgot my coffee. I’m not really a coffee-snob, but my coffee has to be a certain way, with a certain kind and amount of sugar (Sugar in the Raw) and a certain kind and amount of creamer (Silk vanilla soy creamer) in a certain container (Yeti or Hydroflask) so that it stays drinking temperature until I finish it at lunch. On this particular day, when I sat all of my things down on my chair and my desk, I realized it immediately. “Please,” I pleaded with myself, “tell me that I simply left it in the car,” but I knew I hadn’t. It was at home. I had a distraction as I got ready to head out the door in the form of a cone-of-shame on the head of a particular hotspot-chewing dog who shall remain nameless (Betsy). In my defense, the coffee wasn’t in its usual container, so maybe it didn’t catch my eye like it usually does. So there it sat, at home, the unfortunate waste of some good caffeine that I regularly need to get me from 8:10-11:20. There was one other distraction that particular morning. I had decided to make some minestrone, (a new recipe), in the crockpot. When dinner distracts my morning routine, things are bound to go amiss. When I discovered the potential disruption of my day, I started the series of steps it takes to regain the day’s momentum. First, a call to Robby, “Have you gone by the house yet? Any chance you can stop by and…Oh, you’re already at work?…OK…Thanks anyway.” Then, to the cupboard for plan B, which is instant Starbucks, and a packet of a Sugar in the Raw look-alike, to be put together in a standby Tervis that I keep in my classroom for one such emergency as this. The only problem I had was the creamer. While the water was heating I went from one potential source to the next, looking for not powered creamer, but liquid. I knew I couldn’t score on my soy creamer, but the next best substitute came from an everyday hero. Jessa couldn’t help overhearing my pleas for liquid creamer in the front office (I know, because school secretaries have nothing better to do first thing in the morning than to get a frantic teacher liquid creamer). “Do you like vanilla creamer?” she asked, “I have some in my classroom. You’re welcome to help yourself.” Saved! I praised her with thanks and blessings and headed off to her classroom to finish putting together my emergency replacement coffee just in time for the arrival of my first class. Forgetting one’s coffee might not seem like a big deal to some people, but to me, it is such a big deal that a creamer-toting friend can be considered a hero, and on the rare occasion that it happens, if she’s there with creamer-in-hand. She’ll be a hero to me.

And Watch for Deer

This was my November column, which I should have posted before the "Break-crastinator" piece. So you get two for the price of one this month. Lucky you! 

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to drive in Northern Michigan with that relaxing, cruising on a fall evening feeling. I have this fear of hitting a deer with my car that is reaching phobia level. I have always been leery of deer ever since I moved north of the 45^th parallel, (which by the way, is almost exactly where we hit the deer on our motorcycle a few years back). I tend to categorize things in my head, and car-deer collisions fall into two categories:

            1. Has hit a deer with the car

            2. Will hit a deer with the car

Before we hit the deer with our motorcycle, I used to begin to pray as dusk was approaching, “Please keep us safe,” or “Please get us home safely.” Since technically we did get home safely on that night, I’ve had to adjust my prayer to, “Please don’t let us hit anything, and don’t let anything hit us.” Now that we’ve made it through riding season, it’s full on deer-car collision season. I have resumed my “Bye! love you! watch for deer!” saying every time someone leaves the house. Last night I caught myself saying the “watch for deer” part  a second time, louder because I wasn’t sure if Robby heard me the first time, (because of course, if he happens to hit one and I hadn’t said the “watch for deer” part, it would clearly be my fault, right?).

Now that I’m leaving for work in the dark and returning from work in the dusk, my driving anxiety is at an all time high.  I see a car on the side of the road and the mangled remains of some poor unsuspecting Bambi, just trying to get over to the other side for whatever reason. I drive slower. I watch for flashing lights to alert me of impending doom. The other morning, opening day of firearms deer season, I was literally driving 45mph. I had the radio off because I most certainly couldn’t risk getting caught up singing “Can’t Stop the Feeling” and miss those eyes looking at me from 2 feet off the roadway. I’m not completely unfounded in my fear. I have had some near-misses. Once a huge buck came out of nowhere and literally jumped over the hood of my SUV as I drove at about 35 miles per hour. I am a huge proponent of deer hunting for that reason. In fact, I think firearms season should be longer, just to get more of those menaces off the road. I was telling this to one of my co-workers who replied with, “ I agree! I’ve hit 4 of them with my car.” I could go on and on with stories of friends hitting deer with their cars, but I’m sure you can too. So if you come upon me, early in the morning, driving unreasonably slow through “deer alley” as I like to call it, don’t get annoyed. Just safely go around me and say a little prayer that we don’t hit anything and nothing hits us. And please. Watch for deer.

The Break-crastinator

I have been an educator for over 25 years now and can say with certainty that the occupation has its ups and downs. One of the ups is definitely taking breaks throughout the year. It was probably the best career choice for me as a working mom. Once the kids were school age and out of daycare, I couldn’t think of a better career that could afford me the luxury of being able to be home with my kids when they were home. Although this is a definite benefit, it can have its drawbacks as well. One, for instance, is that I’m pretty much limited to vacationing during the school mandated break times, which makes taking trips with my non-teacher friends during lower cost airfare months tricky. It also pretty much means that taking advantage of someone’s timeshare during the non-blackout dates won’t happen. Ever.

I’ve gotten accustomed to my regularly scheduled breaks with some rather bad habits. I am becoming a break-crastinator. That is a person who puts off stuff because she knows she can do it during the forthcoming break. I’m that person who puts off shopping, laundry folding, doctor/dentist/hair appointments, reading books, and yes, even correcting papers, because hey, I’ll just do it over break. The problem with that is that when break finally gets here, I’ve left little room for the lying around that most non-educators think we do with our time off.  Christmas break this year was no different. And Christmas break is unique because it occurs in chunks.

1. The before Christmas last minute shopping, wrapping, and cooking chunk.

2. The after Christmas cleaning stuff up and taking stuff back chunk.

3. The Robby’s birthday chunk

4. The chunk that should be the lying around chunk

5. The New Year’s Eve/New Year’s Day chunk

6. The I’m going back to school tomorrow and I have to get in my classroom and get ready for the week chunk

This year I had high hopes for doing more reading during the lying around chunk. I don’t do much reading for pleasure during the school year. There’s just too much going on. So when I have a book I want to read, I usually set it aside for the next break. This year, I didn’t get the reading time I had hoped for because I break-crastinated so many other obligations, there wasn’t time left to sit down and power through a whole book, let alone the six I had set aside.  But that’s OK. I’m not worried. I’ll just save them for spring break. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time then.

Can Somebody Get me a Towel?

For some unknown reason, we had run out of clean bath towels in our bathroom. Actually, I do know the reason. All of the clean towels were folded and sitting on the counter in the basement laundry room because there are no longer children in the house that can, “Run down to the basement and get me a stack of clean towels.” So when Tom brought me a towel, I said, “Why are these towels better than our towels?” I know the reason for that too. When one of my sons left for college the first time around, I over-bought him towels to take to the dorm. They are really nice, Ralph Lauren towels from Marshalls. I know I could have just sent him to college with the old crappy towels from his bathroom, but what would the other mothers think? Besides, I never buy new towels. I have towels that were shower gifts from our wedding 25 years ago. They are tattered and have threads hanging off the sides. They’re those threads that are still attached to the towel at two ends and hook on your baby toe when you are trying to dry your feet and legs; almost launching you head first into the bathroom counter. Towels just don’t seem to be a purchase priority. Like sheets, they are expensive, and we already have some even if they are thin and worn. A friend of mine once told me a story of her daughter going to a friend’s for a sleep over. When she came home she told her mom about how much she liked their towels.

            “What’s so great about their towels?” she asked her daughter.

            “They’re absorbent,” was the response.

So I’m not the only one who doesn’t buy towels. Actually, I’m one of the lucky ones. When we built our first house my mother-in-law arrived with stacks of brand new towels and washcloths to color-coordinate with the freshly painted walls. And when we built our current house, I splurged on towels to match our master bathroom, handing down the older towels to the kids for their bathroom. But twelve years later, we have those towels and the ones from our wedding. So when the nest emptied, I put the extra “really nice” towels in what has now become the guest bathroom. When Tom brought me that luxurious towel, I thought to myself, “Why aren’t we using these? We never have guests anyway!” So it took me less than a day to haul the next-to-oldest towels up from the basement and into the guest bathroom while I loaded our bathroom shelf up with fluffy, soft, absorbent towels. Considering that we now have really old, old, partially old, and fairly new towels, you can assume that I will never run out of clean towels in the bathroom again. Unless of course, there is nobody here to bring them up from the laundry room.

Adjusting to the Empty Nest

And so the nest is empty. Everyone who has been through it says it’s hard at first, but “You’ll adjust.”  I thought about writing this column earlier in the summer, but decided that I wanted to have the full effect. All the feelings. I think that life prepares you for the day that your kids will finally leave home and go live off on their own. Slowly you begin to get a feel for what it will be like when the kids are gone. It’s in small doses, but the small doses get more frequent and for longer periods of time.

The sleepovers.

The summer camps.

The weeks at Grandma’s.

The summer jobs.

And let’s not forget the attitudes and the moods. Those attitudes and moods are also what prepare you to think to yourself “OK. I don’t think there really is an empty nest syndrome because I’m going to love it!” I once asked a friend about how he was doing when his son left for college. “It was time for him to go,” was the firm but humorous response. We sort of got to ease our way into the empty nest. Our older son took his time, saved some money, and moved out into his own place this past June. Our younger son left for college, came back, and left again. Only this time it’s somehow different. Last time his older brother was still here to soften the blow. And he was only an hour away, making frequent returns during ski season. This time the brother is gone and the college is farther. The next time we see him could possibly be Thanksgiving. We’ve been cushioning this departure with our variety of pets and livestock in the form of 1 dog, 2 cats, and 6 chickens.

            “Pretty soon it’s going to be just you, me, and all of these animals,” I said to Tom.

            “And thank God for all the animals,” was his reply.

It was funny when he said it, but now the house is quiet. Nobody will be home “later.” Nobody has to call to let us know if he’s staying the night somewhere else. I’m buying fewer groceries and doing less laundry. There are less dirty socks and half empty glasses to pick up. Bedrooms are cleaned out and ready for paint. We should be joyous at this new stage in our lives, but we are sad. Sometimes I wish I had had a few more kids because I’m not ready to be an empty-nester. I like the “HI Mom’s” and “What’s to eat around here; I’m starving!” For the last 2 months I didn’t yell about the pile of dropped clothes at the end of the hallway by the kitchen because I knew that pretty soon that pile wouldn’t be there anymore. Today is that day. The pile is gone. The nest is empty. It’s just Tom and me and all of these animals. But I’m pretty sure we’ll adjust.