The Art of Never, Ever Giving Up

I am still waiting!  Not sure why my students continue to procrastinate and not stand on their desks and recite Whitman to me.

I recently made the mistake of a seasoned teacher.  I gave up on a student.  It happened despite the curled post-it on my filing cabinet that read:  Never, Ever Give Up.   After 26 years of teaching, it was hard to believe my "Oh Captain!  My Captain!" moment would ever show up.   

Join me in a short flashback to the 2016 - 2017 school year and meet one of my 6th grade students.  Let's call her Susie.  She was in my 8th hour Reading Booster class despite showing no interest in learning how to boost her reading.  Susie would routinely barge into class 4 minutes late.  Often she would be chased by random sixth grade boys who had lost their minds.  Susie would ignore that class had started and start blasting questions my way:

• Can I go to my locker?  
• I need a book.  Where's my book?  Can I go to the library?
• I forgot my sweatshirt in the gym.  Can I get it?

Nothing can stop me from teaching vocabulary.  Even if  the word is "debris" or "chaos."

I would continue teaching "Word of the Day" while silently directing Susie's attention to my florescent pink expectation poster. It read:  Ms. Gremmer expects you and your brain to stay in class. Like clockwork, Susie would yell, "DUDE MAN!" and flop on the floor.  

Then it was time for Susie's own personal "Choose Your Own Adventure." She would daily choose from the following menu:
A.  Roll around with a book in hand.
B.  Roll back and forth over the book.
OR
C.  Fall asleep. 
The class and I got used to Susie's snores.  Sometimes gentle and lulling, other times explosive and startling.  

I used all my "tricks" on Susie.  I took an interest in her life.  I ate lunch with her.  I found books specific to her interests.  I gave her extra attention.  And on and on and on.  The problem was Susie knew all the "tricks" because teachers had been springing them on her for years.  By May I had given up on Susie.  100% done.  Susie slept and rolled her way through our final novel of the year - Somewhere in the Darkness by Walter Dean Meyers.  

Okay.  Now flash forward to the beginning of this school year - 2017 - 2018. Since Susie made no reading progress in 6th grade, she was, once again, assigned to me for another year of Booster Reading.  Yes.  I had a bad attitude that involved sighing, eye rolling, and complaining to the guidance counselor.

The first day of school arrived, as it always does, and Susie was sitting in her seat on time.  After telling me she missed me, Susie asked, "What are we reading today?  That Darkness book again?"  All hour Susie participated and there was no log rolling, snorting, or attempts to escape vocabulary.  

A couple of days into the school year, all students were given a standardized reading test.  Because that is what we do in education, we give kids tests and then base all our decisions on that score.  After school I printed off my students' scores.  None of the results were surprising until I got to Susie's score.  She had rocketed up 23 points.  (Most students lose points over the summer due to never picking up a book for weeks. 23 points is MAJOR!)  

Sharing the good news with Susie made my day (well, that and a pumpkin spiced latte lunch).  When I asked Susie what changed, she told me, "I decided to try."  

Thank goodness Susie didn't give up on herself.  I have NO clue why Susie all of a sudden decided to try.  What I do know is how grateful I am.  Susie reminded me of something I used to know.  Never, Ever Give Up on a student even if they roll around your class, snore through amazing vocabulary lessons, and come late to class.   

Prairie Eydie    

      

The Art of Winding Down Summer

Summer is winding down and perhaps it is a good thing.  I have almost reached the precarious point of no return.  Let me explain.

Maybe things would have turned out differently if I had had a rose and a tambourine???

Friday, I returned home from an "Up Nort" Wisconsin vacation with my family.  There was kayaking, s'mores, grilling and lots of mosquitoes.  Good times. When getting dressed to go home, I had limited choices.  It was the end of the week and everything seemed to be either damp or sandy.  I settled on a pair of grey leggings, paired with a grey Johnny Cash t-shirt.  I couldn't find my bra, so I just carelessly wrapped a tie-dyed scarf around my neck.  I felt awesome.  My leggings and shirt matched, plus I had a cool Stevie Nicks vibe going with my tie dyed scarf.  A blast of dry shampoo and I was out the door.

Can  you find me?  I am way in the back.

After surviving the four hour drive home with three kids, I decided to treat myself with a trip to my favorite thrift store.  Unpacking could wait.  It was a good day to thrift since I found three skirts to try on. 

Can I say I audibly gasped upon seeing myself in a full length mirror?  (I don't own a full length mirror and rely on looking at my reflection in the porch door.)  I looked like someone who followed the Grateful Dead while feasting on tortilla chips and late nights.  I had broken my iron clad rule of NEVER, EVER wearing leggings as pants.  But there I was.  The grey leggings highlighted the ripples in my thighs and the Johnny Cash t-shirt ended right at my waist. NOOOO!  The scarf did not camouflage my bra-less state, rather it accentuated it.  I quickly paid for the skirts and scuttled home.

It was time for an intervention.  Like when my friend took away my maternity jeans because the baby was 8 months old.  The lazy days of summer had me doing things I wouldn't do in any other season. For example, I have this summer rule that I wear my workout clothes until I work out.  Unfortunately I often don't work out until 4 PM.  This gives me hours to grocery shop and find books at the library while wearing my "Strong is the New Skinny" tank top.  I always run into at least one person I know and am pretty sure they aren't thinking - I SO admire Eydie's workout ethic! 

My intervention involved getting my first pedicure of the season.  I am a rare bird who doesn't like to get pedicures.  I feel sorry for the person buffing my hooves and get embarrassed by the pile of dead skin they grate off my feet with that "Foot Zester" thingy. But, desperate times call for desperate measures.  I also got my hair colored, moved my workouts to the morning, and bought a full length mirror.

Summer is a magical time of year.  Clocks have limited importance, shoes are optional, and there is time to read books with more than 300 pages.  But, yes, it is probably a good thing that summer is coming to an end.   

Prairie Eydie

Your reward for making it to the end of this whiny blog is a tiny glimpse at my "Never to Be Seen Again" outfit.  Leonard.  I am forever grateful to you for blocking out some of the horror.  In my defense, the camera angle isn't helping anything.

  

The Art of Lists continued with Kristen Miller

NOTE:
If you haven't met guest blogger, Kristen, you need to!  Check out some past blogs before reading today's blog.  (For the technically challenged -  hover over text and then right click.)

THE ART OF LISTS STARBUCKS FRIEND
THE TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS

Enjoy!  Prairie Eydie



Hello Little Ranch House followers and friends!

After reading Prairie Eydie's glowing, albeit exaggerated review of my list-making prowess, I felt inspired to write this response.  It's mid-morning Sunday, and I have roughly 30,000 completely unrelated projects I hope to accomplish before bedtime.  Doable? Totally!  But first I need to make a list.  

Don't expect your dog to help you write  your lists.  But.  Feel free to add "walk dog" to any list.  

Prairie Eydie recently sent me this spectacular planner that I plan to use daily (as one tends to pledge whenever they receive a shiny, unblemished notebook).  The planner starts July 31, so I will keep you posted of my assured success.

List of required materials for effective list-making
1.  Adorable, clean notebook - Check!
2.  Ideal pen - Check!
3.  Things to get done - Obviously, Check!

The lists practically write themselves with these pens. 

Every list-maker needs fun pens!  Prairie Eydie demonstrated this beautifully with her rainbow list using Paper Mate felt pens - a necessity in any teacher's repertoire.  For fellow lefties, may I suggest the BIC Atlantis EXACT?

Instead of beating myself up for not completing my unrealistic to-do list, Eydie's post gave me the idea of selecting 3 - 5 actually doable tasks from the master list to complete today.  This approach will hopefully help me feel less overwhelmed and more accomplished at the end of the day.  So, here are my top-ten to-dos from my master list:

To-Do List:  Sunday July 30, 2017

Errands
1.  Ace Hardware - Buy paint, return light bulbs
2.  Target - Return book, buy school supplies to donate
3.  Mail - Graduation gift for Emilie
4.  Post Office - Mail four packages
5.  Grocery Store

To-Dos
6.  Send Prairie Eydie this surprise (aka - I didn't ask her if she wanted this) blog post
7.  Finish resume and cover letter, submit job application
8.  Set up AmVets pick-up

Chores
9.  Fold Laundry
10.  Dishes

If I can check of tasks six to eight today, I'm going to reward myself with . . . another task! I will use my super-fun one-step paint to cover up another piece of brown hand-me-down furniture.  I actually want to do that, so I'm saving it for last.  

love this notebook and write in it diligently for a couple weeks eMy new unicorn notebook reminded me of my fepful fit happens notebook that Prairie Eydie gifted me when we were practicing yogis and Starbucks friends.  (Eydie is big on grace gifts.)  I love this notebook and write in it diligently for a couple of weeks every time I decide that I’m ready to work out regularly again.

Note:  My last entry was on May 6, 2017.  Ooops.

Also note, inspirational quotes in notebooks = major plus!

And now back to checking off to-dos on this latest list! Good luck all you task checker-offers! Would love to hear your suggestions and stories!

The Honorary "Prairie Kristen"  

  

The Art of Lists

People have been writing lists for years.  Cave women probably chiseled lists into rock.  

• 1. Skin Woolly Mammoth
• 2. Make bone broth and freeze extra.
• 3. Construct Woolly Mammoth ponchos for family.

Pioneer women didn't need lists because they had that "work" poem to keep them on the righteous track. 

I have never been one for lists, other than the occasional grocery list.  I leave list writing for the Type A's and the people who can't keep everything they need to do in their heads.  Because I remember absolutely everything.

Kristen, practicing the extreme sport of list writing while climbing a mountain.

My Starbucks friend, Kristen, loves to write lists.  Kristen has a stockpile of slim tablets and cool pens for this purpose.  Kristen will write daily lists, weekly lists, personal daily lists, work weekly lists, and . . . you get the idea.  After completing a task, she marks it off with an efficient check mark.  The kind your 4th grade teacher used to make on your math worksheet, before worksheets were deemed evil.  I would watch Kristen write and complete her lists, while finished the dregs of my hours old dark roast.  What was I getting accomplished while Kristen changed the world?  Not much.

Ah?  Kristen???  Is it cheating to have "Finish climbing this mountain" on your list?  Just asking.

(What?  You haven't met Kristen?  Here is a link to a previous post about her. For the technically challenged, you need to right click on the words "Starbucks Friend." STARBUCKS FRIEND)  

Yes!  This is exactly how I want my Summer holiday to be!

Summer holiday has taken the structure out of my life. (I like how "Summer holiday" sounds instead of "Summer vacation." "Holiday" sounds like I have more money than I actually do.) Tuesday, I was still in my jammies at 11:00 AM.  My biggest accomplishment was cutting up half a cantaloupe for the kids.
While sitting on the couch, watching the kids devour my accomplishment of the day, a foreign thought ran through my head. Maybe I should start writing lists and stop spending my days rolling around like a buffalo in the dust.  So.  I wrote a list. 

Of course Starbucks was first on the list.  I needed the temporary energy a venti dark roast with light cream would provide.  

A crazy thing happened - the list motivated me to get going.  I enjoyed crossing things off and moving onto the next thing. Then several days passed without writing a list and I got that "buffalo rolling in dust" feeling.  So, I wrote another list.  Off I went - doing stuff and crossing things off.  Then it occurred to me that I was doing things and not getting any "credit for them.  (I am a teacher after all and like to get credit even if it is fake credit.)  I decided to add the category, "Extras", to my list.  BAM!  Now I could record other things I was doing that kept me from my list.  If that makes any sense.

WAY too advanced.  Whoever designed this should get extra credit.

I have been hearing about bullet journals on some of my podcast. Apparently bullet journals are a sophisticated way to write lists that involve cool notebooks and different colored pens.  (Two things I adore.)  Devotees of bullet journals claimed they are a life changer. I searched bullet journals on Pinterest and couldn't grasp all the crazy rules.  If I am going to adhere to insane rules, I am going to create them myself.

Must be time to get out the notepad and write a list.

The questions remain.  

• Will I morph into a Type A list writing gal?  
• Will I nimbly power through impossibly long lists with ease?  
• Will I answer the bullet journal's siren song?
• OR will I only write lists on those "buffalo rolling in the dust" days.

Prairie Eydie 

The Art of Tripping - Part II

Mom and Aunt Linda wouldn't be smiling if they actually had to cook in this rustic kitchen.  Can you believe Pioneers didn't have microwaves?  Sheesh.  

I have returned from the Laura Ingalls Wilder trip I took with my mom, aunt, niece, and daughter.  I would have to say the trip was an overall hit.  We're already discussing next year's trip to DeSmet, South Dakota.  This gives everyone a full year to finish reading "The Little House" series.

Can't you just imagine Laura barreling down this hill to play in the creek?  Of course, she would finish her chores first.  

There is power in visiting the residences of your hero.  Part of our trip involved trekking to Plum Creek where the Ingalls family lived from 1874 - 1876.  They moved on after three consecutive crop failures.  (I thought of this yesterday when complaining to a barista that my skinny vanilla latte tasted weird.)  The dugout the family lived in has since collapsed, but the exact location and perimeter is marked with some sad, saggy rope.  (I think red-velvet cording would be more appropriate as Laura is pioneer royalty.) The earth is sunken where the dugout used to be. 

Illustrator, Garth Williams, made everything look look sweet and whimsical.  Have you ever been inside a dugout?  It is super creepy.  Yes.  Creepy.  

I stood next to the dugout and imagined what it was like to be Laura.  The dugout's perimeter was not big.  How a family of five survived in that space through a winter is beyond me.  My own mother kept repeating, "In the book, Ma said the dugout was COZY."  Maybe next winter I can recreate the Ingalls' experience by moving my family, and all our necessities, into the mud room.  It would be fun to see how long that would last.

I understand why Pa stopped the wagon at Plum Creek.  The creek is delightful.  It is clear, quick moving, and shaded in parts by plum thickets.  Gold star to my mom for thinking to look for plum trees.   Birds sang, while the wind ran its fingers through the trees.  (I will now summarize to spare you from this descriptive passage.)  Plum Creek is idyllic.  

Prairie gals on Laura's sunny prairie rock.  (Gold star if you can find Lulu in the shadows.)  

Laura writes about playing on a rock in the book, On the Banks of Plum Creek.  The rock is still there, though it is not located where she described it in the book.  The "Little House" books are historical fiction, not biography or memoir.  Laura's first book was published when she was 65.  Her memory was good, but not perfect.  

To be honest, the Laura Ingalls Wilder museums in Pepin, Wisconsin and Walnut Grove, Minnesota are merely okay.  The museums house few of Laura and her family's belongings.  Disclaimers, like the following, are common:  "This platter is similar to the one Laura and Almanzo used in the book, The First Four Years."  OR  "This buffalo coat is similar to the one Pa wore when he braved a blizzard and ate all of the Christmas candy and oyster crackers while burrowed in a snow bank."  In Pepin you will only find Laura's sewing basket and a quilt that belonged to both Laura and her daughter, Rose.  In Walnut Grove there is a TON of memorabilia from the "Little House" TV show.  But, all the "fake" Laura items brought the books to life for my niece and daughter.  

Laura - autographing books for her fans.

Laura has been such a role model to me.  She has taught me to get up every time I fall down, to find joy in simple things, and to value family and friends.  Her strong spirit continues to inspire me.  It is a great feeling to know I have passed on my love of Laura to my daughter (not sure about the rest of the crew).  

Who inspires you?

Prairie Eydie

Little Lulu on the Prairie.  My job as a mother is now complete.

    

The Art of Tripping - Part I

Oh.  And absolutely NO firearms.  But I will pack plenty of water.  Things might have turned out differently if Thelma and Louise had stayed hydrated.  

I am in the process of getting ready for a Girls' Road Trip.  Now, now - wipe all visions of Thelma and Louis outta your head. There will be no foul language, hard liquor, or dangerous situations involving a greasy Brad Pitt.  The girls on this particular trip are my mom, aunt, niece, and daughter.  My mini-van will be pointing west, so we can visit the stomping grounds of Laura Ingalls Wilder.  Woot Woot!

Pa - getting ready for a day in the field.  No grasshopper infestation today!

First stop is Pepin, Wisconsin where Laura was born.  Second stop is Walnut Grove, Minnesota where On the Banks of Plum Creek take place.  The television show, Little House on the Prairie, was supposedly set in Walnut Grove.  Truth?  The show was filmed in nine different California and Arizona locations.  So, Michael Landon did not strip down and plow up a wheat field in Walnut Grove.  

Notice that nowhere in this post have I called this "trip" a "vacation".  I stopped vacationing 13 years ago, when I had my first child.  I finally figured out the difference between vacations and trips when I had my second child.  (No one has ever accused me of being a fast learner.)

  
Vacations imply lots of unstructured lolly-gagging time, meals eaten in restaurants, and not keeping track of time.  (A question just occurred to me.  Did Ma Ingalls EVER go on vacation?  Or was her entire life milking cows, making Johnnycakes, and bolstering Pa's ego?)  Before I knew the difference, I would go on family "vacations" and still prepare meals, manifest snacks, wash dishes and organize laundry.  Where was the vacation? I would return home disappointed and exhausted with piles of unpacking to deal with.  (Packing and unpacking is drudgery to be plodded through in order to leave your house.  It is worth it.)  When I finally understood that trips were happening and not vacations, my disappointment dissipated and I could deal with it.

But, back to the Girls' Trip.  Being a controlling reading specialist,   I required all the girls to read a minimum of two books - Little House in the Big Woods and On the Banks of Plum Creek. Rereading the books with my daughter has been wonderful.  Laura Ingalls should be added to the list of heroic women who persisted.  Here are a couple reasons why:

•  Laura figured out what to do when the cattle were eating the wheat while Pa and Ma were buying calico in town.  (She screamed and waved her arms for hours.)  
• Laura managed not to slap the nefarious Nellie Olsen.  
• Laura consistently pushed the boundaries of adventure because she was curious and not content to sit in the dugout and sew her boring nine-patch quilt.     

Today I need to vacuum the van, buy snacks at Costco, and book a hotel with a pool.  Oh, and most importantly, finish reading On the Banks of Plum Creek.  

Prairie Eydie 

The Art of Drudgery

It is four weeks into summer vacation and the drudgery of making my kids three meals a day, plus snacks, has set in.  All I do is fill the dishwasher, plan my next trip to Costco, and think of snarky answers to the question, "What's for dinner, mom?"

One evening I said, "You guys aren't hungry again.  Are you?  You just ate lunch and I am not even done cleaning up the kitchen."  My questions and declarations were met with blank stares.  "If you are hungry, figure it out because I am done."   My oldest just gave me that "tween look" and stalked off to be by himself.  My middle child chugged a Mason jar of sun tea (HE is the one I worry the most about.) and my youngest tore into flour tortillas.  

Luckily, the next day I came across this quote:

(I am sure you are wondering, as was I, who Logan Pearsall Smith was.  According to Wikipedia, he was an American-born British essayist and critic.  He was know for his aphorisms and epigrams and was an expert on 17th Century divines.  An expert!!!  I don't know about you, but Mr. Smith's career sounds like drudgery to me.  So his words are extra meaningful.)

This quote made me stop and think.  I have many vocations that involve drudgery.  I am a mom, a teacher, and a person.  (The later is something I often have to remind my students and children of.)  

Being a mother means making many, many meals.  Meals means washing out the disgusting crock pot and figuring out what to make.  Snack means cutting up countless watermelons and pineapples.  But.  I want my kids to eat real food, so I just do what needs to be done.  

Maybe if my students saw this "old school" cover they wouldn't want to read the book anymore.  

Being a teacher means I have to read the same books year after year because I know students respond to them.  I have to psyche myself up annually to read Walter Dean Meyer's Somewhere In the Darkness.  Every year students tell me it was their favorite book.  Personally I would love to leave the main characters, Jimmy and Crab, in the darkness and move on to something else.  But, I push through because I want my students to love books.  I want them to be able to answer the question, "What is  your favorite book."  

Being a person with many interests means lots and lots of drudgery.  If I want organic veggies and shasta daisies, I have to water and weed the gardens.  Writing blog posts means lots and lots of horrible first drafts and ideas that go nowhere.  (Like Part 2 of Rereading Anne of Green Gables.)    

Drudgery needs to be reframed.  I need to erase the vision of me wearing gray, mascara moons under my eyes, plodding from point A to point B and back again.  What if I think of drudgery as part of the process?  The process of raising healthy kids, literate students, and a creative lifestyle.

What do you think?

Prairie Eydie

The Art of Rereading Anne of Green Gables

Mr. Cliburn - I promise to read Moscow Nights in August.  First I have to finish the Anne of Green Gables series.  

I finished rereading Anne of Green Gables last night; the last time I read this book was in elementary school.  I know.  I told my Dad, the beloved Prairie Pa, I would ditch dreamy Anne Shirley to read up on the Cold War crushing pianist, Van Cliburn.  But, I couldn't stop myself from returning to Avonlea and the cozy, well-ordered life Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert, created for the red-headed orphan they adopted from the asylum.  (The author's use of the word asylum bothered me, but I guess that is how it was in 1908.)  Marilla and Matthew were a brother/sister team who weren't sure how to raise an 11 year old girl. Marilla made all the decisions and Matthew kept his oars out of the water . . . or did he?  

If I had a brain, I would not have let my mom highlight my hair.  

Anne's mishaps and heartaches were both ridiculous and real.  She wanted to dye her red hair black, but instead it turned out witch-hag green.  I once tried to add bright, blonde highlights to my brown hair and turned out looking like Ray Bolger in The Wizard of Oz. Plus I, like Anne, refused to redye my hair so I would learn to be humble.  True story.  Another time Anne added liniment to a cake she was baking for the pastor's wife.  Why just last week I made beef and broccoli in the slow cooker and forgot to add the soy sauce and sesame oil. Granted, it was for my kids and not the pastor's wife, but it was a major flop.  Oh- Oh!!!  Then there was the time Anne found herself clinging to a piling, after her boat sank, while she was pretending to be dead. That reminds me of when I . . . . . actually, I've got nothing.

What surprised me was my reaction at the book's ending. (SPOILER ALERT:  Stop reading this blog if you plan on reading this amazing classic.  I figured it was okay to discuss the ending since Anne of Green Gables has been out for 100+ years.)  Matthew dies at the end of the book. He dies reading a letter informing him his bank failed and all his money was gone.  As a kid, I read a Reader's Digest type Anne of Green Gables because I vividly remember Anne finding Matthew dead under a tree.

A sure way to motivate kids to read less.  

As I was reading the chapter called "The Reaper Whose Name is Death" (How is that for subtle foreshadowing?), I started crying real tears.  The kind of tears that slip down your cheeks and you can't stop them.  The kind of tears I shed when Beth dies in Little Women.  My son, Gus, was reading next to me and noticed my tears.  He remarked, "Yeah.  If you were in school your teacher would now make you STOP reading, take out a post-it note, and jot down your feelings about Matthew dying.  Do you feel like doing that now, Mom?  Huh? Huh?"  Okay.  I refuse to jump down the rabbit hole of forcing students to stop the flow of enjoying a book to jot down some nonsense on a post-it.  Kids HATE jotting and it actually makes them want to read less, but teachers think they are monitoring comprehension.  Oops.  Again, I am not going down that rabbit hole.

Dear, dear Matthew.  I tear up just looking at this picture.   

But back to Matthew's death.  He was so sweet and good and reliable.  (How was this man single?  Did I mention he was good with tools and could probably fix things around the house?  I would have snapped him up pronto.)  

• It was Matthew who got Marilla to indulge Anne in fashionable puffed sleeves and flounces.
• It was Matthew who enjoyed listening to Anne's stories and dreams.  He was really listening and not just thinking of what to say next.
• Matthew's belief in Anne motivated her to be the top student in her class.  The reward of Matthew's sweet approval was enough motivation for Anne to study her heinie off.  

Matthew, a bachelor farmer, gave me some important parenting tips:
Listen to your children.
Believe in your children.
Indulge your children in trendy clothes.

Today is the 4th of July and the library is closed.  So, I am off to Barnes and Noble to buy the next book in the series, Anne of Avonlea.  Titter.  Titter.  I think Anne's romance with Gilbert is about to take off.

Prairie Eydie
                  

The Art of Letting People Do What They Want to Do

Why is it so hard to let people do what they want to do?  I try to come across as all "loosey goosey," (Can you tell I am still reading Anne of Green Gables?) but actually can be quite controlling.  Obviously, my way is the best.

When I am on my evening walks, I can't help but rearrange people's artwork - as I quickly glance at their living room.  (Did you know most people hang their art too high?)  I also shake my head when people center a lamp in their picture window.   Who am I to even have an opinion on what people do in their own house?  Maybe really tall people live in the house with artwork hanging inches from the ceiling.  Maybe people center their lamps because their grandmothers did - which is actually very sweet.  (I painted my bathroom the same color as my grandma's bathroom.  Pink.  If you are a single lady, you can have a pink bathroom.  No clearance necessary.)

My kids are at the age where they need less control and more freedom.  This is hard. It was easier when I could just give them a handful of Cheerios and a sippy cup of watered down apple juice.  I could dose out screen time and know Bob the Builder wouldn't curse and the Bubble Guppies wouldn't swim off to smoke a doobie.  

Now it is difficult to monitor screen time and know what they are watching.  (Especially since kids are given chromebooks to do the majority of their school work on, but that is for another post.)  I used to hate it when people would spurt out, "Little kids - little problems.  Big kids - big problems."  At the time, I seriously didn't get it.  Lulu, my youngest, giving up napping at 13 months was a BIG problem.  Leonard, my oldest, getting kicked out of home day cares because he wouldn't nap was a BIG problem.  (Gus's BIG problem then and now is that he is the middle child.)  

I am starting to understand the big problem is that I have to let things go and let my kids make their own choices, trusting I have pounded some common sense into them.  For example, I have to let Leonard read Stephen King without reading it first myself. (Stephen King has written at least 90 books - who has time for that besides a 7th grader on summer vacation?)  Don't worry.  I am not naive enough to think my biggest parenting problem will be Stephen King.  

Hmmm.  Maybe I should start with baby steps - like letting people hang their art however they want.  No judgment. They can do what they want. 

Prairie Eydie        

More of "What I Know for Sure"

Here is a bonus "What I Know for Sure".  (I told you I was just getting started!)  

You don't have to do everything perfect.  It is more important to just jump in and start.  I am really good at NOT thinking things through, so this is easy for me.  Take my approach to gardening.

This is my 4th year planting raised garden beds.  You'd think I would know what I was doing?  I mean, it has been 4 years.  I am happy to tell you I am still making mistakes and still growing veggies.  Here is a tour of this year's mistakes:

The dominant plant in this bed is the zucchini.  See that scrappy viney plant in the background?  That is a cantaloupe plant.  I am told both plants will go crazy and take over my yard.  It will be hard to mow the grass and they could even infringe on the neighbor's yard.  Havoc will ensue.  EEK!  My plan is to make the neighbor some zucchini muffins and let her pick the cantaloupes on her property.     

Oh man!  This one is painful.  Look at those HUGE tomato plants shading those poor basil plants.  Plus, look at all the wasted space between the basil plants.  I am going to buy some more basil plants today to fill in the lonely gaps.





Even though I made mistakes, I am already harvesting zucchini and I won't have to buy kale until November.  If I had waited until I knew everything about raised bed gardening, I wouldn't already be enjoying fresh, organic veggies.  

Now, get out there and do something!  It doesn't have to be perfect, you just have to start.

Prairie "Know It All" Eydie

The Art of "What I Know for Sure"

I have subscribed to Oprah's magazine, O, since its 2010 inception. For the last 17 years, the final page of the magazine is Oprah waxing poetic on things she knows for sure.  Apparently, long ago Gene Siskel asked Oprah, "What do you know for sure?"  At the time, she didn't have an answer, but now answers the questions every month in her magazine.  I am opinionated and decided to take a stab at it myself.

What I (Prairie Eydie) Know for Sure

Hey people.  Be nice.  Life was hard in the late 1800s.  

Think back to what you LOVED doing when you were 8 and start doing it again.  These activities will bring you joy.  When I was eight years old, I loved to do four things:  type original stories and poems on my mom's manual typewriter (it was pink!), cut up magazines, pick wildflowers in the field behind our house, and reread books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. At age 49, these activities still bring me joy.  Though they are manifested in a different way. Now I blog, create collages, garden, and reread Laura Ingalls books with my daughter. 

What you enjoy doing may not look like what others like to do, and that is okay.  You don't have to pretend to be a canoeing enthusiast if it makes your lower back scream and you think drinking beer on sandbars is boring.  Stay home and decorate cupcakes instead.  I used to pretend to love yoga, but I am done with that charade.  Just thinking about yoga makes my neck hurt. Yeah.  Yeah.  I know how beneficial yoga is, I still don't want to do it.    

Leggings are not pants, no matter how comfortable, buttery soft, and magical they are to wear.  I don't need to expand on this topic because you all know what I am talking about. 

I made this collage last week, as a reminder to "Wear Joy."

Wear what makes you happy every day - i.e. wear your joy.  My mom loves all things cowgirl and has started wearing cowboy boots with everything.  I tried to ignore this fashion faux pas, but had to say something when she started wearing rhinestone spurs with her boots.  "Mom!  You either need to stop this or move to Texas!"   
For those of you who know my mother, it comes as no surprise that she didn't stop wearing her boots and still lives in Wisconsin.  I now understand mom is wearing her joy when she wears her boots. She is also wearing her joy when she wears seven rings at once.  I am lucky to have such an awesome role model.

Yee-haw!  This is just the beginning of things I know for sure. What do you know for sure?

Prairie Eydie