Dissidence

I've had quite the roller coaster morning. My beautiful, well behaved, spirited little daughter decided to go to sleep as herself last night and wake up as a 13 year old hormonal teenager this morning. I honestly think that the terrible twos must have set in overnight. Is there an over the counter medicine I can buy that will counteract this??? Thirty minutes of crying, screaming even, and four outfit changes later, there was a knock on my door. The neighbor (in his pajamas no less) was checking in to make sure everything was okay (i.e. that I wasn't somehow killing my child). She literally woke up the neighbors at 6:30am. I was so embarassed. She refused the winter coat (even with snow on the ground) and then refused to leave the house. Then she refused to get into the car. By the time I finally got her buckeld into the car I was already late. I backed out of the driveway and through her tears I hear her say "no seatbelt." I turn around and she's standing up in the backseat of the car. When we got to daycare she wouldn't get out of the car. I dragged her, kicking and screaming, up to the door. I tried to give her a hig and a kiss but she hit me. So I left. My daycare provider called five minutes later with a sad little Lauren on the phone, saying "I love you mommy." This made it all better. However, I still had the problem of no coffee. If you know me at all....this is a major dilemma. I went to school and the newspaper staff was selling breakfast so I grabbed my purse and headed down, but to my chagrin there was no coffee left! I went back to my room and started a pot of coffee (luckily I had one in my room) and now I am drinking bitter caffeine but at least it's caffeine. My students will thank me for it!
Needless to say, my morning didn't start off so great....but it did get better...I took my first period creative writing students down to the art rooms where student artwork lined the halls. I had them pick a painting and write a poem from it. The art teacher came out, asked what we were doing, and offered up his room for us to "paint" pictures from our favorite poems next week. Then, he went and found the photographer from the school newspaper to come and take pictures of the students. He was in a great mood this morning...apparently HE had his coffee!!! Anyway, I now have a great little unit for my poetry class, and I will have some good artwork to hang on my walls and the kids just LOVE to play in the art rooms....so it all ended well. Now...if I could just get through the stack of Oedipus Rex essays on my desk...I know I need more coffee for that!

Praying

When I was a little girl, my parents sent me to Catholic school where I’d attend mass twice a week. During mass, we’d kneel and pray. I never knew what to pray for, so I’d count in my head until the altar boy rang the bells. This is what I remember about praying - the first set of bells were longer than the second.
One day, we had to learn the Lord’s Prayer by heart. I practiced with my mother until I had it down perfectly. I went to school and the teacher sent me home that afternoon with a note to my Protestant mother, requesting that my Catholic father help me with my homework. That was the end of Catholic school for me. No more Hail Mary’s full of “grapes.” No more Protestant Our Father’s. I began public school immediately.
My father still took us to church every Sunday morning. As I grew older, I learned that we are obligated to pray for the dead, to pray for the less fortunate, the sick and the weak. And so I began each silent intention with a prayer for my grandmother. And one terrible morning I had to add Carolyn. Becky was next. Another year, I added my grandpa, and most recently, uncle Bill.
After the list of the deceased, my standard prayer for the homeless followed, because they are less fortunate than me. Lastly, I would add a small sentiment for my family, to keep them safe.
As I get older, the list grows longer. Never shorter. If I could ever truly pray for the intentions our Higher Power needed to address, I’d never get off my knees. Now that I have a daughter of my own, I struggle with prayer even more. I pray for the wisdom to live with the choices I have made, the ones she will make, and the strength to embrace the world’s suffering rather than hoisting it up and carrying it on my shoulders.