Totally perfectly imperfect

Sometimes I feel my entire life is an endless series of worries. It seems like everything I have, am and do brings along its (un-) rightful amount of concern, which adds to what I already got on my mind. Then I talk to some person, and during the conversation something comes up, which I have forgotten to worry about. Reading what I just wrote I scare myself when I realize how little I focus on my joys and prides. The good things in my life just tags along in my existence; my worries (mostly about things which might happen, but never actually do) chew the rag in the background of my mind.

So, in order not to drive myself insane I measure it down. I start sorting the important worries from the unimportant ones, only to discover within minutes my thoughts are drifting into pondering about how that can be possible? In my opinion every part, and all the participants involved, together makes up what I call my life. If someone or something loses priority and attention my life is changed… and in spite of a lot of things I am quite happy now.

I often worry I'm not measuring up as a mom. Even though I have all the right intentions; I fail.

I'm not feeding my kids the right foods, all the time. Too often I end up serving the easy meals. The food I know they will enjoy eating and which takes no time at all to prepare. In other words: Less vegetables than I wish. Rice or mashed potatoes mixed with frozen vegetables is an improvised solution I often turn to, even though I know there is a heated debate whether they are as good as fresh ones (of course they are not, they taste differently).

I'm yelling too much. Maybe not really yelling, ‘cause I keep my voice down, but I nag.  I know they can hear me, but I also realize they are not listening. I’m starting to believe my voice makes my words sound like a continual senseless murmur not worth paying attention to. It is just another sound in the ocean of sounds surrounding them.

I find it hard to find time to watch every soccer game my sons play. Last week my youngest played one game as well as one practice. He is still so young the parents are expected to attend their practice. My middle son had soccer practice on Sunday afternoon, match on Monday and Thursday for his own team, then played a match for the b-team on Wednesday because they were a player short. It’s just too much for me to keep up with. Even making sure the suit is clean is quite an achievement, I think. I wish I was one of those faithful soccer-moms who attended every match, drove to every away match and cheered my son along… BUT I do set aside the weekends they play in tournaments and cups.

I've hindered their own style by choosing their clothes until they were 6. Up until then I made the choices regarding their clothes and the assemble they wear. I still buy their clothes, but they dress themselves.

I have learned to ignore the patterns and colours don’t match. That was a defeat I faced when my oldest son was a baby and his father dressed him. I sulked for a while, wanting my son to look nice, but then I remembered that a father is just as much a father as I am a mom, so I swallowed the camel and comforted myself by the decision to dress the kids for special occasions myself. (Stupid thing to do, though, as now I have to lay out the outfit for the entire family every time I really want to take time to look presentable (for ones) myself.)

I've failed, it is bound to be a failure, at least for my own ego and my wish to look ok. Instead I end up blessing the fact I don’t wear much make-up (hardly any, to be honest), as I put on mascara on the way. I dismiss the sneaking, displeased thought that I WOULD have put on make-up and look good, if I only had been organized enough to start dressing an hour earlier.

Even though I have all these failures and setbacks I don’t really suffer from a total breakdown, because, you know what ... I believe we all have worries and setbacks and feel like failures. We just need to keep in mind, and believe, that our kids will survive this! Let's just love the heck out of our kids, and try again tomorrow, and LOVE the other Mamas out there knowing they feel exactly the same:

Totally imperfect!

Friday... or Monday too?

Friday. To many this is the day of the week they look forward to. The end of the week is finally here.

Oh, joy!!!!!!!! (Not an ironical “oh, joy” uttered in a deep voice, this is an ecstatic one! Feel free to raise your hands and shout it out.)

Facebook is swarmed with joyous illustrations with cheerful greetings for the weekend ahead.

On Monday, on the other hand, my Facebook has one posting after another, posted by different people or communities, showing and telling what a strain it is that Monday is already here.

My students moan and suffer from a bad mood… and tiredness. As if the mere day itself is a punishment inflicted on them by everybody else, so everybody else should suffer too; like they do. So they express their discontent… loudly.

I really hope that those who post, or express, either are not really serious; I hope they do it because it is a popular opinion to have and express.

I’m thinking that if you only live a good life two days a week, you are in BIG trouble.

I can’t think of anything worse than to wake up in the morning dreading the day ahead. It must feel like physical pain inflicted on you, every single day, all day. I might as well admit I know this very well. My last year on high school was terrible. To me it was so dreadful going to school I often discovered tears running down my cheeks when on the school bus. It is possible to feel so awful you don’t even realize you cry. But I finished. I completed school and then left the country. I just had to heal, and found no other option than to go away. I was supposed to leave for three months… I returned home a year later.

What an irony I ended up spending my working life in a classroom. I still find it hard to understand how I ended up like that.

I know for a fact that many spend their weekends alone, at home, with nothing much else to look forward to than cleaning, grocery shopping and watching TV. And still, they post excited postings praising weekend as the highlight of the week.

I used to know a man (he was our neighbour when I was child) who rode his bicycle to work every morning at 6:30am. He came home late, never mentioned overtime, let alone overtime pay.

In the weekends he fiddled about in his garden while humming out of tune. He was so pleased with his life. Always smiling, always a kind greeting.

He worked at the same factory for 57 years. He cut cupboard-knobs on the lathe, and was proud of his work.

I am not made to lead a monotonous life. I need variety and challenging inputs. If life gets too predictable I turn restless and edgy.

Maybe I am more of a fighter than a tender blossom, but I have problems understanding how people can settle for an everyday life with no challenges; a life offering challenges is one offering situations where you need to go beyond the limits of your comfort zone.

To take a stand on controversial issues, to care for others, to be opinionated, to be creative and find a balance in life where you truly experience satisfaction in both the smaller things in life like a nice sandwich and clean clothes, a good TV-show or whether to wear a red or blue t-shirt (I know there are people out there who revolve their entire life around what to wear, bless them, but that is not very important to me, so I list it as a trifle detail here) or the big ones like where to live, to settle down with a life partner or in any other way take on commitment. You know: to take part in your environment on your own terms and abilities.

Some people ask me why I stress my kids and my students should do well in school.

To me that is very simple:

I look upon school attendance as an investment in your own future. I find it very important to prepare for a working life of your own choice. Sadly it is hard to get any kind of work with no schooling these days.

It may be engineering, cleaning dishes, teaching or long-haul transportation… the bottom line is you should be free to make a choice of occupation which makes every day of the week a good one. Every day you wake up should be one you look forward to, and then a weekend off to recover from the bustle (a nice bustle is wearing too) you go through all week.

I wish for everybody to wake up Monday morning thinking: “YES! I’m ready. Bring on the week. This is a new start. Finally Monday is here!” And then you post a cheerful greeting on Friday saying how great it is that it’s Friday today… and on Monday you post a happy greeting telling how grand it is that it’s Monday.

OK, I might be a bit overly eager here, but wouldn’t it be great if we all could have 7 wonderful days a week?

No, I am not talking about a life without ups and downs: I’m talking about the consistent feeling of leading a life to satisfaction.

Back to school

Last Monday my youngest son, age 6, started school. He has been ready for that for so long, and the anticipation was sky high! I loved to see how much he was looking forward to be a schoolboy, and when we finally bought his satchel, it was a moment of serious consideration and delight. It was so obvious it was important to him. 
My only worry is that I and his teachers will fail at keeping this excitement alive, other than that I am happy to see my baby-boy enter a new chapter in life.

A new school year is coming up. We, the teachers, started this week having planning days; preparing to welcome and how to teach the students.

When you’re a teacher you are never completely grown up; you still dread for school to start after the summer. Fall is not about struggling through autumn gale when out for a walk, or sitting inside enjoying the rain tapping on the windows. Fall is new books, new students, a new start.

It’s not only the students who enter the classroom meeting new peers and teachers; we, the teachers, enter the classroom facing new classes. Since this is a vocational training school, there are only 15 students in each class, but these fifteen students are individuals, each with their own background we have to take into consideration, we have to learn a lot of new names and learn how to meet their personalities and planning the lessons right in order to keep up progress of learning, for each and every one of them.

I love it! But even though I have been a teacher for quite some time I face the beginning of each year with excitement and nervousness. Just like the students do.

One of most important preparation routine for a new school year is to go shopping for rubber-soled shoes… with high heels. They are not easy to find, but to me that is important. Thinking about how much I dislike shopping, I am surprised how patient I am when choosing shoes for work. It is an important choise, though. I have to like how they look, they must be comfortable and they should not make any clicking sounds when I walk through the corridors. (I have had students complaining about me walking around the classroom, because all they could think about was the sound my shoes made....)
I like wearing heels. I am 5”3’, which is not very tall, but with heels I can imagine I am taller. It makes wonders for my self-esteem, cause I always find myself being the shortest person in the classroom. Maybe it’s just the impact of a better posture asserting itself (stooping is more or less impossible when wearing high heels; straight back and chin held high comes naturally), to look confident makes a lot of difference, it’s like the feeling itself sneaks into your consciousness and makes itself known in your appearance. For my part that is important for executing good classroom management. (I just made myself come across as a very strict teacher... I'm not. I don't say like many, with a wry smile, do: "Never smile to the students before Christmas". I actually have problems being angry, and when I do get mad it never lasts for long. I still keep my students focused, though... touch wood.)

The excitement of being back is not just related to the students and the subjects I teach. I really enjoy the teachers’ lounge, the fellowship between the teachers on a place safe from the “enemy”. Students are demanding, just the way they should be, but in the teachers’ lounge we relax, exchange stories, experiences and methods. Sometimes a student has made a great comment… maybe it’s not a good idea to reveal the secrets of that part of work…

We discuss common rules and regulations for the classroom, the students and us, the teachers. We demand nothing less from each other than we do of the students, which makes us able to face the students standing firm and with no doubt our colleagues back us up. The sense of loyalty is reassuring and comforting.

All together the entire package embrace the hope I have for my own son: That each student will experience how much fun it is to discover progress in knowledge and personal abilities, both in subjects and as an individual.

The sound of me is....?

As a mother I constantly have these moments of feeling bad about how I think, feel and act, in some situations, with my kids. It might be because I feel I’m being unfair to them: they don’t know that even though they don’t really do something wrong or bad, they do something wrong or bad. Complicated, but still true.

I have always been one of those individuals who need alone time. Time when I can gather myself. Find myself and become at peace with me and my life before I stray too far into a state of discontent. I know myself, and I know that if I let myself do that, I turn into a shrew not pleasant to be around at all. If mum is unhappy, no one else is allowed to be happy.

I am always very present in our home, when I am at home, but never as strong as when I feel like I’m on a “warpath”. Not sure who to be displeased with, but with a strong feeling there is something or someone not quite at place.

The unfairness in this is that deep down I know that what’s not at place is me, and that it is my disability to arrange alone-time for myself which causes me problems, and my shrewish behavior.

By alone-time I mean a short time, an hour, and if I am lucky maybe even more time of continuance, when I can choose what to focus on.

Time when I don’t have to deal with laughing and playing (and the clanking that brings about), and constant talking: questions asked in search of answers and help. Friends add to the number of children running through the doors and up and down staircases, opening the fridge in search of something cool to drink. They chew, swallow, slurpe, talk, sing, play games, watch TV…

They make the dog click his claws excessively on the wooden floor, makes him growl, he also barks when he hears someone outside, or at unsuspecting passer-bys with a dog, almost causing nervous breakdowns with his harassing attack… To merely live creates sounds and noises. I can’t very well blame my kids for living, can I.

Often I miss to surround myself with my own noise and sounds; the turn of the pages of a book, the music complimenting my taste and mood, the whisker from my socks when I cross a room, the sound of breathing (especially from my dog), the soft clicking of my keyboard… all the sounds I know are there, but which drown in the sounds of life and living in my house.

One of the sounds I like the best is the sound of silence. There is something healing about listening to emptiness holding the history, the stories, the truths about forever. You sit there and listen, and you can feel the knowledge of how all the answers are in it so tense you can almost taste it.

Crisp, early Sunday mornings with a mug of coffee, sitting on my porch, is magic as well. No man or engine to break the sounds of nature reviving.

Ok, maybe a bit weird, but everything is changing. Nothing is like it used to be, and with changes sounds are added or removed from our surroundings. It’s always been like that, but silence has always been the same… I think. Maybe I am wrong, but I imagine it is so.

I wonder what is the sound of me. When people think about me, what sound do they think of defines me?

"Inherent Evil of Things"

When I buy appliances I always look for, and buy, the ones with the least knobs, buttons and switches. Those which only have need-to-have functions, and no fancy extras I will never use.

The more buttons there is the more likely something will go wrong. And with my luck it goes wrong when I really need something to work. In this example: to be laundered; like Monday at midnight: my kid’s soccer outfit is really dirty from Sunday’s practice, and the match is on Tuesday early afternoon. And the drum just won’t turn…. Or the electronic display says “Error 2x86zz6y”, or something, and the only thing the laundry machine is good for is rising my blood pressure to undreamt-of heights (and unveil long forgotten vocabulary).

Those are the moments when I bless my not quite absent hoarding tendencies. To find an old laundry tub (why don’t we install those big utility sinks anymore? Because we trust our machines so much? Space? Next time I am to redecorate I will plan for one of those!) and wash by hand gets the job done, without any further ado.

I guess I’m rather traditional: When laundry is washed on the right temperature, on a program for wool, silk, very dirty or just a rinse, I am happy.

I used to have a laundry machine where you could program your own progress, time, temperature (individual for each process) and speed. The number of buttons and switches was VERY impressive and the machine lit up like a Christmas tree every time I pressed start. It lit up, but it didn’t always clean my laundry. The overpriced wonder was hardly ever 100% well.

Not like a car I used to have… which was very trustworthy. When he felt like it (The car turned out to be a “he”, because only a guy can make high expectations to an imminent event crash into unrepairable dreams of happy upcoming moments. Like this car did.)

One morning it was really important I got to work early. (Some mornings I have more to prepare before class than others, and often that has something to do with a test of some sort.)

I got all the bags and the kid in the car, started up, shifted to reverce, let go of the breaks: NOTHING HAPPENED! The car did not budge at all! I don’t think I understood the car stood still… I spent minutes trying to drive, stop the engine, start again…. I had to call the auto repair shop. The owner came with a breakdown truck, looked the car over and told me one of the rear wheels was locked. It was stuck.

The owner loaded my car on the truck, gave me a lift to the kindergarden, where I got a lift from another mum. I got to work just in time… Much the same thing happened one time I was going to the theatre (didn’t get there on time at all), another time to a funeral and an exam (I had time to borrow my neighbor’s bicycle and get to the exam only a couple of minutes late, and was allowed to take it).  

Because of the car, for me the events didn’t turn out the way I planned the night before.

To use a computer: same thing.

They used to be easy to use. Now it isn’t anymore. If you want to save a document, you are asked(???!!!!!!!) how to save it, and you get options like google document, dropbox or some other external site which you have to take a stand on. Not only have you got numerous options on saving what you write (you need to remember where you stored it, though, mind you). Scrolling through files to find something involves computer, files and library… and sometimes even an external harddrive you don’t even know where is!

Now, all of this I can live with, when you have followed the electronical development for as long as I have, you know a little about what is what (except hashtags…. I have to find out about hashtags). The thing I hate about it, is that when I, for once, have prepared a brilliant lesson, either it takes me forever to find the file or the network is down. Yes, it happens. Using computers for teaching is really vulnerable since servers have a tendency to shut down when traffic is heavy. Our fun, exploring, engaging high tech teaching intentions (decreeded by government, county and school owner and expected by my boss) very often end up in reading a text in a book and answer questions. It is better than having a full class watching me become a puddle of pure distress. I have learned to always have a plan b…. and c.

It isn’t just big items which play tricks on us like that, is it? Through the day anything from burned out light bulbs, a missing shoe, keys (Either you have the wrong one, you don’t have one or you can’t make it fit…. And then, of course, someone you are a tiny bit annoyed at, for some reason, takes the key out of your hand (even more annoyed) and the key fits perfectly, which is so exasperating…. so much so, I had to look for an appropriate word to explain just how annoying that is), alarm clocks… the more updated and crucial they are in a certain setting, the more likely things will let us down and make us react in manners we never ever suspected we had in us. They bring out the worst in me, at the most inconvenient times.

I have searched for a pen still working so desperately only a smoker with nothing to light the cigarette can understand.

Being familiar with things playing tricks on me (the more fancy and modern the harder it hits), knowing very well how I react to it, and being aware of what impact it has on me; I call it the inherent evil of things.

Thoughts on work.

I am a strange person; I know this, and I have come to terms with this fact. Not strange in the sense  that people give me negative attention for my behaviour or look (although I do admit I feel comfortable even when I don`t dress up to date, and I do wear a lot more colours than what fashionistas would find appropriate. In addition I have a way of sometimes telling the truth, as I see it, even when a white lie should have been preferred and that might not be the most discrete thing to do, always...) but I think there must be something odd about how my thoughts fly, and what they find amusing pondering about.

Lately I have been wondering about work, and environment.

My grandfather used to say that when there is no more farmers, fishermen and hunters all the rich people with important, well-paid jobs, will starve because their millions can`t fill their starving stomachs.

Just recently I saw on facebook that an old Native American said the same thing!?! It must mean my grandfather was a wise man. (At least he was not the only man profoundly and deeply rooted in past knowledge to keep that thought in mind.)

It is just another one of those obvious truths you always knew, but needed someone to say out loud to really reflect upon. And then you acknowledge it IS a MATTER OF FACT... Even though it WAS always COMMON SENSE

Funny that, how basic living qualifications needs to be confirmed to be considered smart or true... or even legitimate.

Well, I grew up on a farm, in addition I know that in both chess and real life, pawns are not really considered to be important, but the way I play they are the most important ones. I am that kind of down to earth girl. That doesn`t mean I don`t have respect for a lot of other jobs, I even find a lot of them very essential, but I have to say it never cease to amaze me how and what some people do to make a living.

A few years ago a big corporation went into fusion with another corporation. Part of the deal was that the name of this huge corporation should contain both names. There were a few other conditions as well, but this was the big, new thing about this deal. Well; they spent millions and millions on changing this household name, brand and logo all over the world. When the deal had been on for like 6 months, they changed it back, spending even more money.

Now, it is kind to keep signmakers, printers, marketing consultants, graphic designers and other involved groups of professionals occupied. But I bet they kept more than one person busy, for over a year, thinking this strategy out. And I bet the soles of my shoes they were far from cheap.

When I was a kid, and we were talking about a small, isolated place with no apparent workplaces, my dad used to say: “They probably just cut each other’s hair”. Well, to be a hairdresser or a barber is a good job, and we need them, but we can’t all hang around waiting for hair to grow. Nothing much productive really happens then.

 

Whenever I come to a staffed restroom I just grin. I love it, when I know it will be clean, tidy, supplies will be at hand and there is a “Timmy Grasshopper” making sure everybody wash their hands. Going out, an inviting restroom is one of the signs I look for to identify true quality.

When travelling I have a few checkpoints which I go through to find out if the room and other facilities are clean. I really like it to be clean. Not only for the sake of cleanliness itself, but when everything is clean you know the people who own and run the place care.

Cleaning, as well as renovation, are really important jobs. I remember what Naples was like a couple of years ago. I have to admit I don’t know the situation there now, though. But it was bad!

I am very confused to why clubs and restaurants find it more important to employ hung-over kids to push unwelcome leaflets in bypassers’ hands instead of hiring them to keep their facilities clean. I never pick up on those offers. They come across as desperate attempts to keep a place open rather than anything else.

Another thing I don`t really understand is how some people can make a comfortable living giving speeches and lectures. I have to say a lot of them have never been even close to the topic they talk about and give their point of view on issues they know from books and strange research questionaires. When listening to them I always wonder if they are aware of their own distance to their topic. There are really good ones, but there are even more really bad ones.

In example: I have been to numerous lectures, conferences and seminars with no agenda other than telling the audience something we all know very well. I spent 4 hours listening to a woman who told us (us being 170 very good teachers) that in order to teach you must ask the students questions.

She forgot to tell us the most important thing about asking questions (i.e. how to ask them), but we have to always ask the students questions. I am embarrassed to say that I have not heard anything positive about this lecture. She was showing, and referring, to a powerpoint with too small print for us to read, she constantly stood with her back turned at us; talking to the screen, and when she asked us a question she answered it herself... Within a few seconds. That was the best part about her lecture: Showing us how not to teach! And to be honest, it is a good thing to be reminded of. But that was not the intention, nor was it the lecture the school had ordered.

I have also been to lectures, held by a very profiled person, who spent 6 hours telling us what a great guy he was. We fall for their (in their own circle or field of knowledge) famous names and book them, even pay them, to tell us nothing. Actually; to make us spend money doing that is quite an achievement. I should learn something from that.

On the other hand: some of the best lectures I have attended has been about truths I know very well, but needed to be reminded of, or I needed someone better than me to put the truths into well spoken words which makes people want to listen and take part.

Firefly inventors, as I call them, are really interesting. (Of course they don`t invent fireflies, but the things they do invent hardly ever last for more than (at best) a day.) They invent totally useless items, with no quality, or durability. The things they invent are just super cool!!! Until they break 3 hours later, just in time to be broken before we lose interest. And then we fall for their next invention, with even less durability, and we know about this, but it costs next to nothing, and it is tiresome to listen to kids nagging for hours because they want this bright yellow, green, blue, red, orange and/or purple supercool must-have-now thing. i.e. useless-kitchen-gadgets

Cereal boxes and cartoon magazines are full of toys like this, which have made someone rich. And those are only two examples to where we find them. They are everywhere! And we buy them… lots of them.

 

Every year, when a new schoolyear starts I give my new students a welcome speech. One of the things I tell them is: Every idiot can break a window. That is not something to be proud of, because anyone can do that. You will learn how to fix that window, not many can do that, and that is something to be proud of. In a few years you can drive through this region and point out to your child "Those houses over there are homes for families. I was part of building those homes".

We keep hearing about how we pollute the world doing everyday things. I think that if we stopped wasting time talking rubbish, and stopped wasting energy on buying rubbish (both would save us from a lot of annoyance and harsh thoughts and words), we would save both time and environment (not to mention all the money and paper). To me it strikes me as strange that work we do to support human's basic needs are so looked down on, while shuffling numbers and papers around are considered so much more valuable.

 

Katie Vyktoriah - What Happened When My Son Wore A Pink Headband To Walmart

What Happened When My Son Wore A Pink Headband To Walmart