Ms. Neal and the Easter Bunny Basket

Here's my Flashback  Friday...

I'm a big reminisce-er.  As my little one begins his long sojourn in education (or plays puzzles and eats snack with other two year olds), I'm reminded of my wild elementary school days.  I'm sure they (the college of education) tell young elementary teachers that they must scare motormouths into compliance. I once was a motormouth, but the system broke me. I know that is harsh, and I love teachers (and I am one), but it seems to me that all my primary school teachers wanted me to sit down and hush up.  I didn't get my "All A" hat in third grade because Ms. Ford gave me a C in conduct.  Because I talked in line.  I'm working through it.

Which brings me to Ms. Neal.  My first grade teacher.  Me: pale little white girl.  Scared during the meet and greet time at big church.  Ms. Neal: large and in charge.  Gregarious, single, black lady (is it okay not to say African American?  'cause I don't think Ms. Neal would mind).  Now, as a first grade teacher, I know Ms. Neal was kind and patient.  But I have three strong memories of her.  One was when I told my mom that it was MISS Neal, not MISSUS Neal.  That was important to her.  Second, I still have my Christmas ornament, a picture of me and Ms. Neal, framed in green felt, that still hangs on my parents' tree each year. 
But the stand out memory is the bunny basket.

For some reason, I did not want to bring in a empty, 2 gallon milk jug to cover with pink cotton balls for some Easter celebration.  Day after day passed and I did not bring in my bunny jug.  Finally, Ms. Neal made me STAY BACK from recess to decorate a jug she provided.  I don't know why this stays with me.  Maybe bunny jugs are a 1st grade standard.  A rite of passage.  I don't know.  This was my first foray into getting on the teacher's list.  A rebel at six. 

I'm a rule follower.  Just don't make me craft.  Unless you're MISS Neal.

Sending lots of love and pink cotton balls wishes out there to all the hard-working, grief-taking, under-paid, under-appreciated, but very needed and truly heroic teachers.  May your tribe increase.

Works for Me...

I haven't posted anything lately and I know all three of you missed me. :0 )  I have a friend who writes a funny blog Monday through Friday with each day on a theme.  So today,  I'll do a "Works For Me" Wednesday.  Maybe I can keep it up Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

The backstory:
Ever since I graced my first maternity store, I've been wearing a half camisole under my shirts because 1) most maternity tops are low cut and 2) everything expands during pregnancy.  The brand I found in the store, Noppies, is a European brand and about $30 for one camisole.  I haven't be able to find another similar camisole until NOW.  I've found that I still wear my camisole every. single. day. and its getting a little sad looking.  I think I will need extra 'help' with my underpinnings all the days of my life.  Here's my find.

The Bandini by Barely There, sold at Kohl's at about$ 16 for a two pack.  Comes in various colors (black and neutral are best) and though it is marketed as a alternative for your traditional support garment (SG), I highly recommend it in addition to said garment.  I think they are snug, so buy one size up for the recommend size on the package.  They run XS to XL.  I still have about 15 S.G.s that I need to burn because they are useless, but that's neither here nor there.

Secondly,  I made some delicious cheese and chocolate fondue for my birthday. Both are simple recipes.  The Gruyere cheese is a little high flutin', but the end result is worth it.  Oh, so good.  I ate the leftovers at breakfast, lunch, and dinner the next day.  Obviously, my wistfulness for toned arms is not a serious goal yet.

Since I'm on a roll, here's the sweet little preschool backpack I bought Jay.  I know.  He's two.  He's too young for a pencil pouch and protractor.  But if you've got to carry your own underpants, you might as well look good doing it.

Bras, fondue, and backpacks.  It's a good thing.

Then...

Found this image today from Christmas 2006... bittersweet.  So carefree, young, wee babes.

Grocery-ing

We went to the store today.  All three of us.  I have tried to do most grocerying after hours, but after dishes, cooking, clearing dishes, who wants to?

Today's grocerying actually went well.  I won't go so far as to say great, but I'm getting there.  Let me set the scene:

While baby is sleeping, I shower and dress in something respectable.  With a necklace.  Deodorant, too.  I washed my face, so I'll chalk that up to beauty care.  I feed baby, who is full from cereal, while making phone calls and printing out my grocery list.  I do scope out a coupon site,  but there's nothing I have to have.  Walk to car and realize I left baby seat inside.  This happens almost every day.  Buckle in toddler, get seat, go back for reusable bags.  Oh, yes I did.  I pull out the strollers so that we can have space for the nice bagger person to put the groceries in. 

Why do I attempt this? 

Because I'm going to PUBLIX.

Ah, Publix.  The mecca.  A place where a plebeian like myself doesn't always frequent.  Why today?

Because their customer service is worth a king's ransom.  Or in my case, Pepperidge Farm Goldfish that are not. on. sale.  But they are great pacifiers after the bakery cookie's done give out.  And those race car buggies.  Praise the Lord.

Here's a little tribute...

Publix, How I Love Thee

P is for personnel, and lanes that are staffed
U is for urbane; it's suave, chic
B is for BOGO, a couponer's claim to fame
L is for lifesavers: the cookies, the double coupons, the curbside service
I is for investment, both in money and in sanity
X is for the the kisses I'll blow to the lady who unpacked my cart

I don't have time to rhyme, but I hope this encapsulates my appreciation for this hallowed institution, known in my family as Aunt Publix.

And yes, Mom, I know it's in the genes.

Vacation: The Good, The Bad, and the Funny

The Good:  A week at Hilton Head with Mom and Dad, Sis and Brother in Law, and my Aunt.  Parents who graciously put us up and feed us.  And watch kids.  Eating in our swimsuits at a beach restaurant.  Getting sand in my suit.  Feeling the sun and waves calm me down.  Watching way to much Phineas and Ferb.  Eating cake twice a day.  Eating pimento cheese and crackers for breakfast.  Reading on the porch.  Family photo on the beach.

The Bad:  Jay getting sick AGAIN on vacation, thus losing two glorious beach days.  Whining.  Fever.
Out of routine.  Playing musical beds.  Toddlers in restaurants.  Babies in restaurants.  The aftermath of unpacking.

The Funny:  Repetitive toddler speak.  "Go for it... go for it... go for it..."  "No no Mommy... no no Mommy... no no Mommy...."  Also annoying.  But funny.  Throwing laundry on Alex as he ignores me and plays online games.  Because we are stuck inside with a sickie.
I took NO photos of our trip, save a few shots of Sarah getting feed by grandpa.  She is sitting up, by the way.  Smiling, laughing, just about as perfect a baby as you could ask for.