and then we can throw bricks at each other's heads

As i sat in afterschool yesterday, patiently willing away the minutes, i came to the realization that i will never understand boys and the things they do for fun.

I've dated my fair share, grew up with a brother and a father, and have lots of guy friends, BUT....sometimes the things you guys do....i just don't get.

For example, i watched 4 boys run around and hit each other mercilessly with pool noodles for an hour straight yesterday. Really? You can occupy yourselves for an hour by just smacking each other in the head with a noodle? Cause hey, it looks like loads of fun to me. If i could be doing anything right now it would be rolling around in the dirt while my comrade beats me with a long, aqua-colored, foam stick. It's right up there with cleaning the bathroom...or watching snails race. Those are all things that just scream FUN.

And the dirt that you're bathing in while receiving your beating...gross. Those boys are probably still picking wood chips out of their scalps and socks. If i was your mother, i would not be happy. You'd be darning your own socks.

Then there's the whole, "it doesn't hurt" aspect. I'm all like, "Guys, stop it before someone gets seriously hurt!" And there all like, "But Miss Loss! We like it! We promise! And we won't tackle each other!"

Right. You won't tackle each other. You just end up on the ground because you have really bad coordination....and because it's so soft and comfy down there. Who wouldn't want to lay on the cold ground gazing up at the puffy clouds while your face receives a pounding as the dirt specks fly in your eyes: BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM BAM! BAM! And you're all like, "that tickles!"

Whatever floats your boat...

we're being invaded

Scene: Kindergarten in music class

Students smiling cheerfully and singing Deep and Wide while making coordinating hand motions

Sammy: There's a bug on the floor!

Me: It's ok Sammy, it's dead.

Continue singing song

Sammy: IT'S MOVING!!!

The one legged grasshopper slowly drags itself across the floor

Class: AAAUUGGGHHHH!!!

Me: Calm down! It's not going to hurt
anyone! It's just a grasshopper!!

Class: AAAUUGGGHHHH!!!

The one legged grasshopper is immediately consumed by the Kleenex in my hand. Death has mercifully arrived for one more insect.

Me: Everyone quietly line up at the door....class is over now.

Tito: (on the way out the door to Sammy) I bet there was an alien inside it.

Aliens...i knew it.

Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin

This one goes way back...

I was a happy go lucky 3 year old...and the good kid :). My brother was 5. We didn't change roles of bad kid/good kid until i hit my teens, but that's a blog for another day.

My father, a pastor, preached almost every other Sunday at the little chapel on the hill that served as the church building for the ministry he has worked at for the past 25 years. It is a quaint, old-fashioned building with squeaky floors covered in scarlet red carpet and lumpy pews of the same color. It even has a sort of bell tower with a Notre Dame type bell on a rope that you pull to ring. There was an organ on the left, a piano on the right, and a solid wooden pulpit in the middle with a crack running down it from an incident during a deliverance session (also a blog for another day). Outside the chapel, there was a long, concrete sidewalk that curved all the way to the hard, concrete steps. Concrete...pretty hard stuff.

My brother, Jonathan, had a Big Wheel. If you're a child of the 80's, then you'll know that a Big Wheel is a plastic bike with three wheels, a HUGE one in the front, that rides low to the ground. I was a fan of my big brother back then...wanted to be just like him and follow him around and annoy him...all that good stuff little siblings do. So, i watched him place his Big Wheel at the top of the winding sidewalk and ride it all the way down towards the chapel till the huge front wheel bounced harmlessly off the bottom step of the chapel stairs. Woohoo! looked like fun to me. Being the fearless 3 year-old that i was, i promptly climbed aboard my tricycle.

Take a moment to consider the tricycle with me: this bike also has three wheels, but instead of it's occupant riding close to the ground, the cold, red, metal seat is raised high in the air just slightly below the red, metal handlebars.

Ok. So i'm perched on my tricycle and i start pumping the peddles as fast as my little feet will make them go. Down the curving sidewalk i race, gaining momentum with each second. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!! The glee didn't last very long. Suddenly, i was heaved from my seat and flying precariously through the air, over the handlebars and landing directly on the soft flesh of my chin. AUGGHHHHH!!!! Actually, it was probably more like, WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!! MOMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!! You see, i hadn't done the physics or calculus or algebra or geometry or whatever math i should have done at the ripe old age of 3 to realize that me coming to a sudden stop from that speed when sitting so high up in the air probably wasn't a good idea. There were two hits: The tricycle hit the steps, and then my chin hit the steps.

I'm not sure exactly of the events that followed but there was a mixture of blood and tears, and somehow my mom made it to my side. I remember laying on my mom's lap in the car, rushing to the hospital. I remember seeing the big red stain on the white handkerchief that had been stopping the blood flow from my chin. I don't remember this, but my tells me that when she removed the handkerchief to re-situate it or check out the injury (not sure what she was doing), i quickly asked her to put it back because i was afraid my chin would fall off. I remember laying on the hospital bed and being held down while they placed a white cloth over my face with a hole that opened at my chin. I guess they figured it would have been less traumatizing for me to not see what was going on by forcing me to lay on that bed and have my face completely covered. I say the fact that i still remember being under that cloth and being terrified means they were wrong about not traumatizing me. BUT, the stitches made it in, and i lived to tell the story. :)

Besides those few vivid memories, i have one constant reminder of that day: a small, crescent-shaped scar right under my chin...if you look closely you'll see it.

Out of the mouths of babes

The following is a conversation i had with the kindergarten class today during drama:

Zechariah: Miss Loss, who's Mike?

Me: He is my boyfriend Zechariah.

Tito: YOU FINALLY HAVE A BOYFRIEND?!?!?!??!!

Me: Yep.

Entire Kindergarten Class: YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Donovan: Wait a minute. You married Mrs. Whitt's husband??

Me: No Donovan, this is a different Mike.

Whit: Is it Mrs. Whitt's dad?

Me: No. He is not related to Mrs. Whitt in any way at all. He lives 11 hours away in Illinois.

Tito: So what kind of boyfriend is he?

Me: The good kind :)

gettin jiggy with it

We would have made Will Smith oh so proud.

On Wednesdays I teach music, and it's always a lot of fun. I love singing with the students and being silly and discovering which ones are talented movers and shakers! Some are a little timid, but most are not; especially my 3rd graders....they all like to move it, move it, and they aren't shy about it! Those happy-hearted cuties will groove at the drop of a hat. I love it!

They've got skills. Pictures don't lie :)

Surprise

Normally, I hate surprises
I like to know what's going on
I read the end of a book first
I ask questions during movies

Strange that i asked God to surprise me?
He knows us better than we know ourselves
I just knew i needed His help
It was a simple, sincere prayer

He heard me asking
He smiled
He waited until the right time
He surprised me!

He knew what i needed
heard what i wanted
saw what i couldn't
and gave me what I did not know to ask for

I like surprises

to be continued

Update Soon!

I've been to what i now think of as The Great State of Illinois for a while...with no internet.

New blog coming soon :)