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Showing posts from January, 2012

You See Me Better Than I Can

             Many ideas have come and gone for writing this week.  Overwhelmed with everything, I decided to file some ideas away for later (the precious gift of new friendships, more Family Features, and experiencing the loss of my father-in-law).  I've discarded others (rant on those who tell children giggling in the cafeteria is not allowed because "Someone could get hurt!").  Because I chose to listen to one of my favorite songs, though, I have changed my mind.         The song is one my daddy introduced me to about five years ago.  It is Willie Nelson's version of "Till I Can Gain Control Again,"  and it perfectly captures the way I often feel.        Just like the sun over the mountaintop,  You know I'll always come again You know I love to spend my morning time Like sunlight dancing on your skin I have never gone so wrong  As for telling lies to you What you've seen is what I've been There is nothing I can hide from you You see me

To the Snoring Granny From Her Dreaming Child

     I must apologize to my readers for the postponement of yesterday's Family Feature Friday.  I could not decide who to write about, but then I realized I had already started a Family Feature on my Granny back on her birthday with this:       " Happy Birthday to the lady who taught me how to be one!  She also taught me where to shop, how to find the best children's books, the wonder of petit fours, how to heal a broken heart, that getting my B.S. degree was NOT optional ("Education, education, education!"), the importance of always being kind and keeping it classy, and how to throw fabulous Christmas parties! Love you with all my heart, Granny."     Though that sums things up rather well, I want to take an expanded look at my education.  Before I was born, Mom made plans for me to have a babysitter while she was working.  In the hospital on my birthday, however, Gran and Papaw announced that they would need to keep me instead.  I guess I was ju

One Hand in my Pocket, and it Belongs to a Three Year Old!

     After church this morning, I went to Old Chicago with my friend Mindy and two boys who have me wrapped around their pinkies (Ty and Cru).  As I was pouring out the latest news of my life over a divine slice of pizza, a familiar face caught my eye.  It was a boy I taught years ago at a childcare center.  While working there, it took me months to realize that I knew the boys' parents from my hometown.  My dad taught both of them, and the boys' grandma, Nancy, taught at my elementary school.  I remember being amazed at how small the world seemed.  All the gin joints  daycares in all the towns in all the world...you get the idea.        Fast forward from 2008, when I last saw this family, to 2010.  I was a year out of college with a degree in Early Childhood Education.  I was trying to work out in my heart if I really wanted a career in the classroom.  My student teaching experience was not a positive one (although I loved the children and the actual teaching part), and I fel

He Ain't Heavy

     Benjamin David McClure entered my life on May 5th, 1993.  I was just this side of six years old.  When my parents informed me, months earlier, that I was going to have a baby brother, I remember yelling, "Well, we better move that refrigerator!"  If my play kitchen set had to be displaced, so be it.   I  was to be a big sister!  In the hospital, I alternated between holding this precious baby (prettiest you ever did see) and barking orders at visitors to wash their hands.  From the very beginning, I was thrilled with my new role, despite asking once ( once!)  about the ramifications of throwing him in a garbage can.     In the hospital--his feet were so long!            Over the years, I tried to bestow all the wisdom my little life had to offer.  I have said before that when Ben was born, so was a teacher.  Perhaps the first thing Ben taught me was that I wanted to teach.  Reading was such a tremendous part of our relationship.  I read to him constantly and always

Confessions of an Elder Brother

            My typical Sunday morning begins with waking up to a ringtone or three before sprinting across the room to turn off the mother of all alarm clocks before the horrific beeping begins.  If I don't make it across the room in time, I have to try to run with my arm over my head to cover my ears while trying to turn the blasted thing off.  I am convinced this device is evil incarnate, but by George, it gets me moving.  And that is not an easy thing to do at 7:00 in the morning.  I am just not a morning person.  Never have been.  After I turn off the alarm, I scramble to make myself look presentable.  I grab a banana and a Coke Zero (don't judge me) for breakfast, let Roo out, throw him a Pupcorn treat as I lock the door, and hurry to my car.        The majority of my morning involves teaching, fighting with the laptop or projector, trying to hold thoughts in my head until I can find the nearest notepad, checking kids in with our amazing new system, etc.  I am not teac