Saying Goodbye to Pat Filien

 I first met Pat Fiien at the Copper Penny, our college dive bar.  As usual, it was so crowded, you were forced to touch shoulders and bodies with the others that were there.  A walk to the bathroom, took 20 minutes, with all the pushing you had to do to get there. My best friend Cathy and I were at the Penny that night,  drinking our cheap beers and singing the songs from the 90's.  The DJ was playing the song, "Everybody, Everybody," when Pat walked by us.  When I say walked, I mean more like stood by us, since there was nowhere to go.  And when I say he stood by us, I mean he towered over us.  Pat was 6 feet, 7 or 8 inches tall.  We had never seen him before, which we were not accustomed to at the Copper Penny.  Most of the people at the Penny were St Rose students, and we knew everyone there.  But this Pat, with his massive height and his unfamiliarity to us, we were a bit curious but cautious.  Then, during the "OW" part of the "Everybody, Everybody" song, Pat looked down at us, and with the funniest and most comical face, he yelled, "OW."   Cathy and I howled with laughter.  He continued to stand there and did this for the entirety of the song.  We would like to think he stayed there to entertain us, but most likely he was just stuck next to us for the whole song, since the bar was so crowded.  We laughed and talked with Pat as best as we could- him being so tall and it being so loud, I don't think we were able to understand that much.  But what we did understand, was that Pat brought us happiness and a good laugh.  We found out later that night that Pat just transferred to our college, and was going to play basketball on our boys team.  

    We continued to see Pat on campus, and every encounter we had with him, was personal and always with laughter.  He became someone that I could count on at St. Rose.  Whether it was for a laugh, a favor, or just to talk to, I knew he would always make time for me.  

    One of my favorite memories with Pat was when a bunch of us went to see the movie Ghost at the Madison movie theater, which was walking distance from our college campus.  There's a part of the movie when Patrick Swayze's character wants to learn how to move things as a ghost, so he is urging a ghost on a subway train to teach him.  This ghost continuously yells, "Get off my train," with his booming voice and his face looking pained, but this scene in the movie had me laughing so hard in the movie theater.  After the movie on our walk  home, Pat yelled, "Get off my train,"to me, acting like the ghost from the movie in that scene.  I laughed so hard, and he just kept repeating this phrase, all the way back to our school, and I howled with laughter each time, like a baby who is giggling at something her parent keeps repeating that is funny.  Years later, when we were in touch with email, he asked if I remembered that, and I said of course.  He wrote back and said that when he sees that scene when watching Ghost, he thinks of me.  On Facebook with our yearly birthdays, we sometimes would write "Get off my train, and happy birthday."

Pat was someone who was always positive, and he always wanted to spread his happiness to others.  He cared how others felt.  Because of this, people were drawn to him.  He was friends with all of the different social groups at  St. Rose because of this.  He was the friendliest person I might ever meet.  He took time to get to know people.  His smile, his hugs and his sense of humor always brought you to his world of just happiness.  I never saw him in a bad mood.  I never saw him upset.  

About 2 weeks ago, after one of the hardest days at my work, I came home late, around 6:15.  As I walked in and filled my husband on my crazy day, I stood in front of our gas fireplace, trying to warm up, with my back against the television.  The local news was on, and the sports broadcaster was talking about a death in the St. Rose basketball community.  I was expecting someone who I didn't know- maybe someone who graduated years before me?  But as I turned around, my friend  Pat's picture was on the TV screen...my sweet, funny friend, who just a couple months ago, told me that turning 50 was no big deal, when I turned 50, since he was a year older...I was stunned.  I broke out in tears, and couldn't stop sobbing.  Why Pat?  Why the best?  

It's been a couple weeks since Pat's passing.  I am still stunned, and just yesterday, I broke out in another round of tears.  I attended his wake, and met his kids.  His wife.  His players on his basketball team lined the receiving line, opposite the family.  After college, he continued with college basketball, but with the coaching side of it.  He had impacted so many college kids, and the college communities he worked with.  His son, Marcus, is attending Cornell and playing basketball.  Marcus is the same height, if not taller, than Pat, and his daughter Lauren is a senior in high school, also playing basketball.  You could tell that his kids are great, polite kids, and that he and his wife did a great job parenting.   I can't imagine seeing Pat everyday, and then have that taken from me...his presence from those who saw his light each day, will miss him the most.  

Me and Pat.  He would yell, "I'm OUTTA HERE!" across campus, during our senior week

Classmates reminisced in back of the funeral home.  Sometimes softly to respect the quietness around us.  Sometimes loudly, as we laughed at some of the stories we were listening to and telling.  I think Pat would like the laughter, since he was always seeking the fun and laughter in life.

At 8 PM on Valentine's Day,  as I was clicking through the stations to watch TV, I stopped as Ghost was just beginning to play on MTV.  I immediately got emotional, since this was our movie.  I watched until our part came on, "Get off my train," and I sat on my couch and cried.  I cried because I lost my friend.  I cried because he was no longer here with us, to impact the people that he inspired.  I cried because it just hit me all over again.  It hit me, that Pat was now a ghost.  I sat on that couch, and cried.  I texted a college friend, who told me just to cry.  I sat there, and said, "Why is this movie on, now?  Is this a sign?  What is it?"  I know it's Valentine's Day, and Ghost is a rom-com, so I shouldn't be all that shocked I came across it this night, but still, I would think Pat would want me to watch that part, and just laugh, like we used to.  To remember him, to remember to laugh in life, and to be silly.  He's reminding me of that, as I sat on that couch and then I started to smile.  I know that Pat is a bright light in heaven, in whatever ghostly form or spirit

Pat, Cathy, me and Collette singing on the Booze Cruise.  It says in my photograph book, we are singing, "Should I Stay, Or Should I go?" by the Ramones.

I wish we could sing back, I think you should stay...

he's in.   I can only hope that when I'm afraid and nervous entering the world beyond, that Pat will be there for me, yelling to me, "Get off my train," and then more calmly, "Get over here, you're in heaven."

Guppy's Obituary

Guppy Walz

 We will miss you, Gupster.

Relaxing with your ball in your mouth

Guppy the dog was put to rest on the rainy morning of May 25th, 2017.  He suffered from a neurological issue, which led to his back legs being paralyzed, and his front legs very weak, and soon too, his front legs would give out.   His family made the painful decision to end his suffering, and said their farewells quicker than they ever thought they would have to.

You loved sitting on our porch in the sun.

Guppy is survived by his family, Stacey and Tim, Riley and Maggie Walz, and brother Buddy.  He is also survived by all those who met him, and fell in love with him.  He is survived by those that took care of him:  The Sorrell Family, The Natale Family, The LaGoy Family, The Frankford Family, Heather and Sarah Coffey, his Facebook and Instagram followers.  He is joining his brother and best buddy, Toga, in doggy heaven.  The family would like to thank his vet, Dr Sarah, at Mandak Vet, for treating and taking care of Guppy all these years.  A special thank you to Tim's mom, Joyce Walz, for finding Guppy on Petfinder.

Guppy, and that face.

Guppy was a rescue dog.  The family doesn't know where he was born, or even how old he was.  All they know is that Guppy came to them aggressive, not social, and new to even playing with toys.  He was neutered days before the Walz's adopted him, so maybe he was a mill dog?  The first time a ball was thrown, Guppy didn't know what to do...But once he met his first squeaky ball, he was obsessed with them.  Even taking walks with one stuffed in his mouth.  Later, he would master the skill of sleeping and snorting with one in his mouth.  His balls were his treasures, and his family thinks he even dreamt of them, since he would run in his sleep.  After learning social skills and learning to let others pet him and touch him, he grew quite fond of his family.  His first brother, Toga, showed him the ropes, taught him boundaries, and Guppy was able to learn so much in his new surroundings.  Most importantly, he was able to trust and to be loved.  When Guppy passed away, his vet, neurologist and rehab teacher all believed he was over 10 years old.  He was able to live with the Walz family for 4 1/2 years.  A time too short for the Walz family, but inside their hearts, they knew they saved his life, and they were lucky to be with Guppy for this short time period.

Halloween 2016

Guppy was half Boston Terrier and half French bulldog, and his must enduring quality was his smile and his tongue that would always eventually come out.  He loved his squeaky balls, his squeaky plastic bones that are sold at Dollar Tree, and laying in the sun.  He had a special doggie bed that allowed him to hide under the covers, which was his favorite place.  At night, you would often find him snuggled up, with a squeaky ball in his mouth, snorting away and falling asleep.  Toward the end of his life, he loved to be held by Stacey.

Sleeping Guppy was the best.

Guppy was well known as a contestant to a Bark Box contest, that gained him nationwide attention.  He was also featured in many of Riley and Maggie's homemade movies, and later, would help Riley raise money for St Baldrick's, in TV clips that Riley would make.  With Guppy's help, Riley was able to raise lots of money.  He was also a incentive in Stacey's kindergarten class- if her students saved 500 Scottie Bucks, they could pay for a Guppy visit to their house.  Several of Stacey's students were able to have Guppy over for a visit, with a bedtime story.

My ruffaree

Guppy was a goofy dog, but his French Bulldog personality would come out- that stubbornness and attitude!  But he was the best family dog and provided so many laughs.  Later, his brother Buddy would be rescued, and just like Toga before him, Guppy was able to show Buddy the boundaries and ropes of living in the house.  The two of them would play and chase one another, and nip and box.  When Guppy could no longer play with Buddy, Buddy would become confused to why his fearless leader was slowing down.  Even in Guppy's last days, Buddy was trying to get Guppy to play with him.

The teeth and the tongue were your trademarks

The Walz family would like to thank Mandak Vet, and all the specialists that worked with Guppy, to making his life happy and comfortable until the end.  The family would also like to give a big thanks to Wendy at Everlasting Hope, where Guppy was rescued.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart, for picking us, from probably hundreds of applicants.  We were so lucky to have been the ones to provide Guppy with a loving, stable home.

Taking selfies

Guppy, I can't sit here and not picture you with your silly tongue out and those snorts.  So many days, I would be thinking how hard life was at that moment, and then a quick stare at you, with those teeth, and your big eyes, and I would learn to be mindful, and grateful, and just smile.  You always made me smile.  Goodbye to my Love Bug, Gupster.  You are in heaven, hopefully with Toga.  Chasing balls.  You are running again after those squeaky balls.  And now I'm smiling with tears in my eyes, with that image in my mind.  There you go again... making me smile.

Your favorite toy- we have a million of these around the house from the Dollar Tree.  You loved chasing them and putting them in your mouth.	One of our last pictures, Mother's Day 2017
Your favorite place	I'll miss you, Gupster.
Every morning before I went to work

A Letter to My Kids, Mother's Day 2017

To my two beautiful children in 2017,

The moment, Riley, you were born, my life changed at that very second.  I was now a mom.  Everything was new to me, but I was ready to be the best mom, and make sure you were happy.  When you were born, you were born at 9lbs, 9ounces, but when the hospital discharged us, you were down to 8 lbs, 4 ounces, and everyone was worried about you.  Apparently, my breast milk wasn't coming out, and you were starving!  We tried everything to get my milk to come out, and when you were 2 weeks old, we finally just formula fed you, since my milk was coming.  We tried everything, and as a young man, you would laugh at the things we had to do.  We were giving you shots of formula milk, we were giving you formula milk from tubes...the doctors didn't want you to get used to a bottle.  It was stressful a little, because we just wanted everything to work.  And you had the loudest cry when you were hungry!!  I used to get nervous, because I didn't know if I was doing everything right.  I was always doubting myself.  The first 2 weeks of your life felt like 2 years.  My doctors were persistent that I not give up, but sometimes your body can't do what you want it to do.  I remember always thinking, "What am I doing?"  "Am I doing this right?"  I know you think this is too much TMI, but I wanted to emphasize that I thought I was already a failing mom.  I was already questioning if I was a good enough mom to you.  In those early weeks, I felt like I didn't know what I was doing, my body was failing me and I was feeling I wasn't good enough to be your mother.  I guess as moms, we are always questioning if we are good enough, but I went through it ten-fold your first weeks.

As you got older, and approached your toddler years, I loved it, and this was, to me, better than when you were babies.  You were talking, and your little personalities were coming out.  Riley, so shy, especially during our Toddler Music classes with Ms. Renee.  You much rather watch and observe, than to participate and have all the attention on yourself.  You were my quiet child.  Maggie, on the other hand, was my crazy and wild child.  When Maggie was 3 years old, at Lynn and Meredith's neighborhood party, you were dancing on top of the Little Tike house, and we knew we would have this free spirit of a child.  Although, since entering middle school, you have become more quiet and you like your quiet group of small friends.  Which I really like.  You don't just follow what everyone else is doing, and you don't feel the pressure of being liked or popular, which is such a grown up way of thinking.  I think Middle School can be hard, harder for girls than boys, so seeing you go through these years, confident in who you are, makes me so proud of you.  You are so mature.

Riley always had a sense of wonder about him.  Always observing the world around him.  Maggie was always this dreamy child.  I still know that you hear music in your head when you walk, and when you were a toddler, you were always humming and talking to yourself.  Riley always had a plan and a project going on.  Whether when it was when you were a toddler, and you were organizing your  bikes along the driveway, or writing a neighborhood newspaper, you always had something going on.  Maggie, always behind you, ready to help you.

Being a mom has always been my number one job.  I always wanted to be there for you both.  I wanted to teach you about the world, about compassion, about helping others, about working hard to attain your goals.  You both amaze me with how smart you both are.  Being on the Principal's List for every semester (you both) since middle school.  That is such a hard thing to do.  When I was your age, I used to study so much, only to get 80's.  It means the world to me that you are these bright, gifted children.  It is something I count my blessings for.

I hope you both know how much I love you, and how proud I am of both of you, and the young people you are becoming.  You both can be anything you want.   You both have done so much at such tender ages.

Before I go to bed every night, as a way to get relaxed, I talk to myself about all that I am grateful for.  Our family is always at the top, and the first thing I think.  We are so lucky and blessed to have our family.  We always have a great time together, and we can love one another freely and without any reservations.  You all mean the world to me.  I just hope that when you both become adults, our relationship will stay bonded and strong.  I know both of you are going places, and you may not stay in Ballston Spa.  Despite the miles that may be between us, I hope we are always close.  They say that when your children become adults, they become your best friends, and I look forward to that day.  Even though, I know I feel it now.  I love you both so much, and thanks for making Mother's Day everyday.

Love,
Mom

My Favorite Room in My House

My favorite place to hang out is my front covered porch.  Now that the weather is getting warmer, there's no place to relax after a long day at work, than my porch.  I mediate, I read, I write, I talk to my kids and my husband.   I listen to the sounds of chiming wind bells, train whistles, kids screaming from the soccer fields, birds chirping, frogs croaking, cars braking and racing, our flag flapping...And every once in a while, there is silence.    Sometimes cars drive by, and wave.  I wave back, not a clue about half the time who is driving by.

I gather my thoughts on this porch.  If I have had a bad day, I can recap my day.  But for some reason, when I'm on this porch, I can tell myself, "Tomorrow is another day."  Maybe because with the weather warmer, I

know there is an end arriving soon, with our school year.  Summer is hinting that it can't wait to see me again.  I know that if I have bad days at work with my students, or if I'm feeling overwhelmed with all of the items on my to do list for school, I know that, sitting on this porch in the warmth of the Spring sun, that the end is near.  I can do this, I tell myself.  You always do.

Toga's Birthday

Today would had been our first dog's 17th birthday.  He pasted away in 2013, and it's been almost 4 years since he has left us, but the memories, legacy and how he had improved our lives remains with us.

Toga came to us, before we had children.  My husband, Tim, and I learned how to be responsible and loving when we parented a puppy named Toga.  He went with us everywhere.  We brought him to the beach and laughed as he ran in circles on the sandy beach, and we gasped when he seemed to be drowning in a deep tide pole.  We brought him to dog parks, and laughed and watched affectionately as he made new friends.  We were proud of him for being a good boy out in the dog fields, playing and taking turns with balls.  We taught him tricks, that got him awards and prizes at local fun dog shows.  When he seemed to be allergic to something, we went to our vet and had allergy testing done, even though it was costly.  We took care of him like a child, buying him foods he could digest.  By the time he was two years old, our first child was born, and we were more than ready for the challenge of motherhood and fatherhood, since Toga taught us so much.

Toga had to now share his "mommy and daddy."  And even though he was never mean or he never was aggressive to our son, and then 2 years later, to our daughter, we knew he was not so happy to have them around.  He was definitely a "mama's boy."  As I would be I feeding my son, Toga would jump on my lap, not facing my son but me, and to show that he was the older child, the more dominant one.  Toga was always a good sport.  We have so many pictures of my son with Toga, and he always posed for these pictures.  When our son was able to move in a walker, Toga learned that our son was a great food source, often dropping his baby crackers on the floor, on his path around the house.

When Toga had his last birthday, at 13 years old, he lived for less than 2 weeks afterwards, when we made the decision to put him down.  He had been suffering terribly.  He had diabetes, congestive heart disease, and a liver condition, which led him to be on 3 different medications.  Our vet reassured us that we had done so much for Toga, and we knew when it was time for him to stop suffering.  When we rescued another dog, it was nice to hear from the rescue group that our vet raved on how well we treated our first dog, Toga.  That we would be a great candidate to rescue a dog.  And as I sit here, 17 years later thinking about my very first dog, I think our training with Toga made us good candidates for "real people;"  our 2 kids, that I would do anything for.  Like caring for an ailing dog, I would do anything for my kids.    Even though I now have 2 different dogs named Buddy and Guppy, Toga just has this special place in my heart.  Happy birthday in heaven, sweet Toga.

Spring Break

It's the Sunday before school begins, and I am feeling refreshed and rejuvenated after having a week off from work.

It was a stay-ca-tion.  I literally cleaned a room a day, and didn't leave the house until my room of the day was completely cleaned.  I cleaned out closets, went through old bookshelves, "junk drawers" and emptied many of its drawers and added more to my donation pile.

I always get a little sad before going back to work, because I like the simplicity of life and spending time with my family.  Once school starts again, life gets crazy.  Time is something nobody has.

And I love my dogs, and it's hard to say goodbye in the morning, knowing they are mad at me because I have to put them in their crates again.  They have been too naughty lately to be roaming in the house.

I slept a lot too.  Since my body had mono last year, it just seems like whenever I don't need to wake up, and I don't have the alarm clock on, I sleep until 10 each morning.  And I listened to my body this week, and that's just what I did.  I slept like a teenager, and slept in until 10 each morning.  How will I ever wake up at 6 tomorrow morning will be anyone's guess.

Here's to the weeks we have until the end of school.  I might had needed all that sleep last week to get through the rest of the school year.

My Escape

I walk into the cold air, with my terry cloth bathrobe over  my bathing suit.  My feet are barely clinging to my flip flops, as I rush to my destination in the winter cold.  I walk through a  narrow path that has been shoveled out, just for me and my trips to this special healing place.  I gasp as I throw off my bathrobe, exposing my skin to the frigid night.  I toss my flip flops in the snow and walk up the snowy steps.  I submerged my cold body into the hot, steaming water, and I suddenly feel my body relax, as the bubbles are surrounding me.  I breath in the cold moon-lit air, and feel the warm sensation of the jets, the bubbles, and I find myself forgeting all my worries of the day.  I forget that I have worries that keep my up at night.  I forget all the items that were not checked off my famous "To Do" list.  I forget that I left my classroom, with a million things left undone.  I am surrounded by the dark night, with the moon shining bright upon me.  The stars flashing, as if saying, "You did good today.  Just do your best, and that's all you can do."  I hear the humming, like I always do, of some mysterious machinery.  I always ask myself, "What is that sound?"  And then I relax, because up to this night, it has proven to be a harmless sound.  The chlorine fills the night, as I push on again.  This seems to be my routine;  two rounds of bubbles and jets.

And then, as time always does, it sneaks up on me, and I realize that it's probably late, and my two rounds of bubbles has landed me close to 10:30PM.  Just as fast as I take off my robe, I put it on even faster, if at all possible.  I quickly seal my retreat, feel my flip flops in the cold, grab my towel, and run back through the narrow path that has been shoveled out, just for me.  Just for me on these nights that allow me to find my inner peace.  My escape.

Daylight Savings

My opinion on Daylight Savings....

I do not like Daylight Savings because I it makes me feel out of sorts.  This morning, I missed waking up to the shimmering sunlight, that warmed my face minutes before my alarm clock honked.  I missed a hour of sleep yesterday, so not quite feeling myself since I am drowsy.  While at work, I stayed late, not on purpose, but I thought it was much earlier than I thought, because of the sun still shining at 5:30.  My husband, late from work, because "he  probably thinks it's much earlier, like what I thought earlier," I told my kids.  Stepping in at 6:45 laughing, my husband told me just that.

This Daylight Savings is quite the trickster.

Heat Wave

On Sundays, I usually go grocery shopping.  The kids and my husband went skiing for the day, so I enjoyed a nice, quiet Sunday morning, but knew the trip to the grocery store was lurking.  I had to go, and leave the peace of the  house.

With  my shopping list, I headed out the door.  Before leaving, I looked at our thermometer and it said a balmy 38 degrees out.  With one of the coldest Februarys on record, 38 degrees is warm.

I looked through my jackets, and found my winter vest.

And I was so excited to not have to be all bundled up, it my down feather coat.  It was light and springy today, at 38 degrees.

Nap Day

I have been so tired today.  I took 2 2-hour naps.  It was a very lazy day.  I am so tired that all I can think about is how it's really 10:40 and not 9:40.

Hoping I am feeling better tomorrow.

Too much to do tomorrow to take a couple of naps!

Fridays in Kindergarten

It's been a long week...
Today is Friday.
My students are always cranky on Friday.
It's been a long week.

Jai'Quan is crying because he can't stretch out the sounds in  "monster."
Lilly is crying because she thinks William will tell on her because she butt him in line.
Liam is at the nurse's because Alex accidentally hit him with his lunchbox.
And now Alex is crying.
Leah is crying because she misses her sister.

So many kids are crying.
It's been a long week.
Today reminds me of when my own children were toddlers, and they would cry for silly things if they were tired.

Today is Friday.
Everyone in Mrs. Walz's class is tired and cranky.

Smile Mrs. Walz.
No tears.
It's Friday.

Sick Day and Do Sub Plans?

Last night, I came home from work exhausted, not being able to concentrate with head pain.  When I went to bed last night, I somehow found comfort in the fact that if I woke up feeling sick again, I WAS going to call the sub finder system, and I WAS going to call in sick.  Come on, you know you won't, but if it makes you feel better, go to bed thinking that.

When my alarm went off at 6  AM, I still wasn't feeling well.  I snoozed my alarm for awhile, and thought to myself that I had until 7 AM to call the sub service.  After 7, it is too late.  

Well, as the story always goes, I didn't want to do sub plans.  I really detest sub plans.  At 7:01, it was final.  I was going to my kindergarten classroom.  I would make them the green eggs and ham that I promised them.  I would make the most of my day with them.  They deserved that.  

As always, when my kindergarten students arrive, I don't have time to be sick.  My head pain takes a back seat.  I get through it, like I always do.  Today, with the lights off.

My Personal Chef

I have a personal chef.  

When I come home from work, my house is filled with aromas; better than any scented candle.   I walk in, and I float through the kitchen.  "Mmm," we all say, amazed every single afternoon.  I smell the chicken basking in the spices.  Rosemary and basil.  My chef has been working furiously all day, for 7 hours.  My chef knows that I find comfort in his healthy and warm meals.  My chef knows I am home with the kids for a very short time afterschool, until we rush to our afterschool activities.  For that short time, we find solace in the meal that he prepares.  My personal chef knows that he is saving me from insanity.  My chef knows that we all love him.  

My chef's name is Mr. Crockpot.  I love him.  

My Windshield Wiper

Driving in a blustery winter storm today, my windshield wipers were once again frantically wiping the blowing storm away from my view in my heated car.  I kept repeating to myself It's March 3rd.  Why is it still snowing?  I wish I had snow tires.  I am DONE with this winter of 2015.  

As I am saying all these thoughts to myself, I see my windshield wiper on the driver side fly off, and into the black of the night.  Are you kidding me?  Where did that wiper go?  

I am only a mile or two from my house, so with careful driving and a heated dashboard that melted the snow once it hit my window, I was able to navigate myself home without any problems.

My driver wiper is in a ditch somewhere.  When the snow of 2015 finally melts, my wiper will be an artifact of this intense and coldest winter that I ever lived through.  Rest in peace windshield wiper.

My Friend Pia

Pia and I at the Dresden International School.  

Today is my friend's Pia birthday.

We met at the Dresden International School.  Our husband's were both working in Germany, and our kids were students at the school.  My kids had been there since September;  Pia's kids were new to the school in December.  I had been living in Germany for 5 months, when Pia first moved to Dresden, Germany.

When your kids go to an international school, you immediately find comfort with the people from your nationality.  I had my American friends, and I naturally made lots of friendships with people from other countries.  My friend Mona, was from Germany.  My friend Bibi, was from Malaysia.  My friend Angie was from New Zealand.  I loved making friends with all of these intinguing women, but I did find my comfort  in my American friends.

I remember when I met Pia.  She was walking through the doors of the elementary building, and she was having troubles opening up the doors, since she had her 3 year-old daughter in the stroller.  I held the door for her, and I immediately knew she was American since she said thank you in an American way, without the hesitation or accent.  And she smiled at me.  Americans smile all the time.  I smiled back and made a comment about the weather that morning.  I remember it was so icy out, that people were falling all over the place on the busy sidewalks of the city outside the international school.  It was her first week living in Germany.

We became instant friends.  We would drop off the kids at school, and go to Starbucks.  We had lunches together.  Her daughter always in the stroller with us;  I adored her as well.  Then her parents came to visit, and I loved them.  

Pia and I talked about our lives.  We loved every minute of our lives in Dresden, Germany.  We knew we were lucky to be living in such an amazing city, and showing our kids (literally) the world with our travels.  We were always laughing, but we also poured our souls out.  

My husband was assigned to move back to  New York that July, and I remember having lunch with Pia and her daughter, and her son.  Her parents, who were living in Italy at the time, came back to visit, and we all had a good-bye lunch together.  My husband's company was putting us up for 2 nights in a hotel in the city center, since the moving company had already boxed our things.  We stood in front of the hotel and cried.  We had to say good-bye.  I loved this woman.  I loved her friendliness and her positive energy.  She was my perfect friend.  But I know, my life-long friend.

Pia stayed in Germany for one more year.    Her husband got relocated to Portland, Oregon.  My husband's family lives there, so we plan on visiting this summer, and I hope to spend some time with her.  

Today is her birthday.  I wish her the happiest of birthdays.  

Writing Challenge for March...

So this month, I am going to write everyday on my blog.  I am participating in the Slice of Life, in which I am to write about a slice of my day.  So here is my first entry...

Maggie at her swim meet

This morning, our alarms went off at 5 AM.  Yesterday morning, I woke up at 9:30 without an alarm, so I am NOT a morning person and I love to sleep in.  After the dreaded alarm went off, my body went in mom mode.  You know what I mean...when  it's up to you to get the kids up and to move, direct and give orders.  We had to be at RPI College this morning by 7 AM for my daughter's swim meet.  7 AM was when warm ups were.  We weren't going to be late this time!

Waking up the kids was fun.  Maggie laid, kept sleeping, and she even hit me in her sleep.  Riley mumbled that he didn't want to go...why did he have to go...  But after 10 minutes, the kids were up, I was showering, and my husband was getting things in order.

We drove to RPI, got there by 7:05.  Maggie was in the pool, warming up, and I was off finding what events she was in, and when they were.  Swim meets are literally crazy.  Once you walk into a swim meet, it's up to you to find where the locker room is, the pool, and where to park yourself for the 4+ hours you will be there.  Parents can only go into the pool area when their child is swimming.  There's traffic in and out of the pool, a pool marshall is directing traffic and kicking parents out of the pool bleachers.  It's complete craziness.  And at 5 AM, it's a slow motion craziness.

Once we found out the events she was swimming, we relaxed and found a place to camp out in the basement of RPI.  Maggie swam in 3 events:  the 50 freestyle (she took off 1 second off her personal best), and the 100 Medley (she took off 3 seconds) and the 50 backstroke (which she placed first in her heat).  I was so proud of her.  She really is a good swimmer.  I love watching her swim, and how peaceful and graceful she is.  The craziness of the swim meet is all around me, but when I watch her swim in those 3 races, I found serene peace as I watch her gracefully float in the water with her smooth motions.  I am amazed.

After the races, it gets crazy again, as we are urged to leave since Maggie has finished her race.  We need to leave and exit to the basement, so the next set of parents can see their kids swim in the little area on the bleachers.  But before I exit, I walk to Maggie's area and yell below that she did great.  I do this after each race.  I want her to know how proud I am of  her.

When she finishes the last race, I meet her in the locker room, and help her change.  We see girls crying in the locker room.  We hear moms telling their daughters that they needed to swim harder.  I look at my 10 year-old daughter, and she looks at me.  I smile.  We don't even need to talk.  She knows I am proud of her.  In the locker room, I witness the "swim moms," and it shocks me that these moms are pushing their daughters.  "Swim moms," "Soccer moms," Dance moms..."  I am seeing it firsthand, and not on some reality show.  Wow.  I squeeze Maggie and comb her hair, and I am proud of our relationship.  She did her best.  She always does.  

5 AM.  An early start to the day. But what a day it was to see my daughter swim her heart out.  

Wacky Wednesday

Today was "Wacky Wednesday" in my kindergarten classroom.  We are in the midst of our Dr. Seuss week, and reading Wacky Wednesday is always so fun and the kids always have fun finding all the silly pictures.

For Wacky Wednesday each year, I dress all crazy:  plaids with stripes, my hair in pigtails, and shoes that don't match.  Basically, I look like I just walked out of a thrift shop, but nothing matches!  Every year, I laugh because when I walk the halls every Wacky Wednesday in crazy clothes, I only get a couple of people who actually question my get-up.  Today was no different.  Only the music teacher gave me a "OK???" look when I dropped the kids off for Music.  

This just cracks me up.  People at work must think I'm nuts everyday!  The librarian said to me "Well, you are always stylish, so maybe people think  you are dressing to a new fad."  Tonight, I am laughing at what others really must think of me!!

Principal List

My son who is in 6th grade, Riley, made the Principal's List for the 2nd quarter at his middle school.  I am so proud of him, for having a 98% for both 1st and 2nd quarters.

All the kids who made the Principal's List with an overall average higher than a 95% got to skip their 1st period class, and have breakfast with family members in the lunchroom.  The buffet consisted of muffins, juice, bagles and fruit.  It was a nice set-up, as most of the kids ate with their friends and their friends' parents.  My friend's son also made the Principal's List, so the four of us, and a couple other of our sons' friends ate with us.  It's been fun for me to see this group of kids get older, and I felt such a sense of warmth in the room.  There were probably over 50 students there and at least that many parents, but we live in such a close-knit community, that I have known many of these kids since kindergarten.

I have heard rumors that when the kids get older, even next year in 7th grade, the Principal's List Breakfast is known for just the kids to attend, and parents are encouraged by the kids to stay home.  There's a point when my middle-schooler will think it's not so cool for his mom to attend these events.  As I sat there and looked at my son with love and pride and pure admiration for the young man he is becoming, I know that I only have a certain amount of time with him in this way.  I can congratulated him in public, smile at him in public, and acknowledge that I am proud of him with one of my goofy smiles that he reminds me everyday that I give him.

Today I am a proud mom.

My observation is FINISHED!

Last week, I received an email from our "STAFFTRAC" which is our district's on-line teacher evaluation website.  The email stated that starting on Monday (today), my principal would be popping in for an unannounced observation anytime from today-March 13th.  At anytime, he would just pop in and come in.  As I wrote earlier on my blog, I don't mind him coming in at all.  Actually, I like when he does, because I am never nervous when he comes in to watch me teach and I feel like when he comes to visit, he learns things about Kindergarten.  But, when you receive an email about an announced observation, first, it just sounds so formal, and secondly, that's just a lot of nervous energy to have for 10 days, until you  know it's completely over.

So, today was day #1, and I was thinking there was NO way he would come on day 1.  But when he walked into my room at noon, I was actually thanking the heavens and above, since I would just get it over with!

Today was Dr. Seuss's birthday, so during the observation, I read the book The Cat in the Hat,, pausing toward the end of the book, so the  kids could talk with their "Rug Talk buddy," and predict what would happened at the end, and to talk about what was "in their heads."  Afterwards, the kids wrote opinion pieces about how they feel about Thing 1 and Thing 2, and they did such a great job.  I am so grateful tonight for so many reasons.  I am grateful that my principal came in right away, that I was prepared with a good lesson (even though I never in my wildest dreams thought he would be coming today), and that my students rocked it out!  I am grateful that I can put that observation behind me, and just focus on teaching, doing report cards and having fun this week with Dr. Seuss.   Like I said, I like when my principal comes and visits and watches what we do.  But it's so intimidating when he comes in with his head deep in his notebook, trying to write everything I am saying.  There's no interaction on his part, so it just feels different and it's hard NOT to feel nervous.


Whoo Whoo, it's over!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sunday Reading

This morning, I was like a snail getting out of bed.  I  love Sunday mornings!

Around 7:00, I knew it was morning with the morning sunlight streaming in through our curtains.  I opened one eye, realized it was Sunday, and went back to bed.  Then, awhile later, I woke up.  Instead of getting out of bed and starting my day, I read.  I read, and read and read.  It was so relaxing.

When I did venture out of bed, my husband was in the living room reading, my son on the computer doing homework, and my daughter was still in bed, reading.  Everyone was reading and it was so comfy and such a Winter Sunday thing to do.  When I went back upstairs to say good morning to my daughter, and told her how cute she was in bed sleeping, she patted her bed, and invited me to come join her.  My first thought was  I really  need to start doing SOMETHING and not goof off anymore.  Laundry was calling.  Cleaning rooms were awaiting.  But I stopped and thought to myself, "She is nine years old.  In one or two years, she's not going to invite you into her room AT ALL, forget the fact of reading in her bed with her.  So I grabbed my book from my bedroom, and we laid in her bed, cuddling and reading our own books.  She would stop to laugh, and give me a retell of what she was reading.  I am glad I took the time to be with her this morning.