<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232</id><updated>2011-07-07T19:00:05.340-07:00</updated><category term='that is the question'/><category term='the Cart-scalator'/><title type='text'>what I want to be when I grow up</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>39</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-6044594671598646566</id><published>2009-07-26T14:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-26T14:19:15.786-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Here's to you, little brother</title><content type='html'>So…Little brother is harassing me about getting something written for my blog. Here we goooo….I have so many memories about little brother[LB]. When we were kids, he used to give me all his banana baby food, I guess he didn’t like that flavor so I ate it for him. I remember sitting in the sun on the kitchen floor savoring every delicious bite. You gotta remember, this was the mid 60’s, so they were probably putting some good stuff in there…lots of sugar and yummy chemicals, none of that tasteless organic stuff. The baby food tasting happened around the same time Mum stepped on LB’s truck and broke it. Poor kid is still traumatized about that. Things that happen in your first year can scar you for life.&lt;br /&gt;It may have explained later incidents, like the time LB threw me off the top bunk. &lt;br /&gt;I wonder if he remembers fondly all those chicken butchering days and the rotting feathers and maggots that went with the process. And then there were the days we got to push Father's car to school and back, uphill both ways, 15 miles in driving ice and snow. Well, hopefully this blog update will satisfy LB.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-6044594671598646566?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/6044594671598646566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=6044594671598646566' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/6044594671598646566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/6044594671598646566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2009/07/heres-to-you-little-brother.html' title='Here&apos;s to you, little brother'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-4448554278169567288</id><published>2009-04-12T15:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T16:00:41.483-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Medicine Rock Montana</title><content type='html'>Medicine Rock Montana was an experience for us all. When we arrived at the entrance we were met by an Indian family who had come to fill their water jugs. They assured us of the safety of the well, accessed by an old fashioned hand pump just like my Grandparents had on their front lawn. Then they led us into the park and showed us their favorite camping spot, warned us to carry a stick and thump the ground to scare off rattlesnakes, and went on their way.&lt;br /&gt;The next morning our menfolk decided to drive off and get our mail. Back by lunch, they were sure. We women and children decided to go in to town [Ekalaka] to the library and check our email. We went to a little cafe for lunch, and the owner/operator was excited to finally meet us. Seems her middle school aged son had seen us around town, and was anticipating us moving in...with not one, but three boys about his age- a commodity that was evidently pretty scarce in the area. We were sorry to disillusion her.&lt;br /&gt;For pictures of Medicine Rock, see here;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.montanapictures.net/medicine_rock.htm&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-4448554278169567288?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/4448554278169567288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=4448554278169567288' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/4448554278169567288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/4448554278169567288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2009/04/medicine-rock-montana.html' title='Medicine Rock Montana'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-9211743014025766861</id><published>2009-04-05T14:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T14:59:38.721-07:00</updated><title type='text'>California Beach Dreams</title><content type='html'>Seems like my Big Trip posts are all about the southwest, so I’m going to try to even things up a bit. In Northern California, we camped almost on a beach by the Pacific Ocean. It was September, kind of cold I remember. One day we walked along the shore and a seal swam along beside us. We walked as far as we could one direction, then turned and went the other way, and the seal turned and swam back the same way. We repeated this a few times, I think he was curious about us [of course we were curious about him, too…would have loved a closer look.]&lt;br /&gt;We found large starfish all up and down the beach-they were pretty pastel colors, like pink and purple. All were alive, so we really couldn’t justify keeping them. We ended up in this primitive camp ground run by the state because we drove just a little further after a scary experience. We had found the campground we had researched, and found it to be some different from the description. Piles of trash were everywhere, and we were barked at by skinny cross eyed dogs. Skinny cross eyed children were everywhere, and directed us to inquire at a run down trailer for the manager. When we approached the trailer, a bodiless voice yelled, “whadya want!” “Um…looking for a place to camp?” Suddenly he was all sweetness…except we could see him now…holey stained t-shirt, beer gut and all. We were afraid to put our relatively new and good looking [albeit unpaid for] trailer in this park-so off we went. Going the extra miles really paid off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-9211743014025766861?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/9211743014025766861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=9211743014025766861' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/9211743014025766861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/9211743014025766861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2009/04/california-beach-dreams.html' title='California Beach Dreams'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-3202269861995460076</id><published>2009-04-05T14:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T14:40:10.419-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cave Dwellers</title><content type='html'>My brother is pressuring me again to write something about our Big Trip...[note the capitals] So, this is for you, Jon. What do I remember best...let me think. One of my favorite parts of the trip had to do with cave dwellers. The Anasazi people before memory, and the Southwestern natives who were there when the "Americans" arrived. &lt;br /&gt;We stayed a few days at Bandelier National Park in New Mexico. The cliffs here were accessible by ladders that were replicas of those used by the inhabitants. It was cool to climb up into the cave apartments and look at the smoke residue on the ceiling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We visited Canyon de Chelly [pronounced du Shay], and camped on the rim for a week or so. One day my sons and I climbed down to the floor of the Canyon in the company of a flock of sheep. We hiked across the floor to the White House Ruins. Standing on the bottom of the Canyon, looking up at the ruins, we marveled at the people who had built these walls in a cleft of the cliff, using ladders to haul up tools and supplies, and raised families in the apartments they had fashioned.&lt;br /&gt;Earlier we had hiked along the rim of the Canyon and found the site where U.S. soldiers had stationed themselves to shoot at the families who had taken refuge in a less protected cleft of the Canyon walls. It was hard to fathom what those soldiers were thinking as they shot and reloaded and shot again at men, women and children huddled in the open cave.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-3202269861995460076?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/3202269861995460076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=3202269861995460076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/3202269861995460076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/3202269861995460076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2009/04/cave-dwellers.html' title='Cave Dwellers'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-2550880962681315961</id><published>2008-10-17T04:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-17T04:39:02.963-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shopping with the Girls</title><content type='html'>I went with my sister-in-law and two nieces to a thrift store in a nearby city on Columbus Day. We found lots of good bargains-my 13 year old niece Katyana bought 3 skirts for $9. My sister-in-law found two pairs of jeans that fit well. My 4 year old niece did not find the time we spent shopping as fascinating as her sister did-after all, they had nothing in her size. Poor Becca got pretty bored, so she and I went into the shoe section and I let her play shoe sales lady [and I got to sit and rest...] Her taste runs to stiletto heels and really pointy toes, mostly about a size six...I felt like Cinderella's evil stepsisters. With size nine feet, I generally avoid that pointy-toed thing. I did find a nice fairly non-descript, low heeled, good tread pair that I bought for $9. I'd been looking at Walmart for new shoes but the ones I liked all cost $35.&lt;br /&gt;After our thrift store expedition, we went to the mall and had some lunch. I scoped out some bargains her, too. Becca was especially pleased when I found a bin of 75% off stuffed animals. After digging all through the bin, we found some Dora the explorer dolls that cost about $1.50; it was easy talking Mom into one of those. I liked the Winter Dora, in a parka, but Becca overruled me. She picked one in shorts and a t-shirt, and stripped her right down on the ride home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-2550880962681315961?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/2550880962681315961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=2550880962681315961' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/2550880962681315961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/2550880962681315961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/10/shopping-with-girls.html' title='Shopping with the Girls'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-4207012044299778475</id><published>2008-09-06T14:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T15:07:32.633-07:00</updated><title type='text'>California musings</title><content type='html'>En route from Yosemite to Manzanar, we camped in the Owens Valley for two nights and visited a little museum there. We were looking for information on Manzanar, which we found...but we also found that the aforementioned battle is still alive and well, at least to the local people. Their river [or lake] bed is a poisonous dust bed now, and a good wind can cause all sorts of problems to the people and few remaining livestock in this once active farming community. The curator referred us to an older man who told us about attempts to blow up the aqueducts and talked with bitterness about what sounded like a very recent theft of the Valley’s water. When did it happen? In the 50's or 60's? I looked it up later and found that it had all happened in 1920. This gentleman was old, but not nearly old enough to remember those events. Yet the bitterness is still very much there, and with reason. Very few people in the Owens Valley have any benefit from this enterprise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-4207012044299778475?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/4207012044299778475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=4207012044299778475' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/4207012044299778475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/4207012044299778475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/09/california-musings.html' title='California musings'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-2450333704247842548</id><published>2008-09-06T14:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T14:52:54.865-07:00</updated><title type='text'>notes from the trip</title><content type='html'>We were in this area in October-November. We hiked to the hanging gardens and emerald pools in Zion. I bet it's even more striking this time of year. We visited the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, but my kids were more impressed with Canyon de Chelly[pronounced shay] in eastern AZ. Also, Hubbell trading post is "near" de Chelly. We camped on the Hopi reservation and did laundry in a town there. Great culture study!  Near Zion, we camped in the Virgin river recreational area...what views! We live in upstate NY so it was all new and exciting. Oh, in St. George there are dinosaur tracks you can see. Ask some locals for directions. Pipesprings National monument is really cool. [south of Utah in AZ] There is a massacre site near St. George, but many of the locals would rather forget it...Kit Carson had been in the wagon train attacked...he was 7. If you are interested, I could find more info on that. &lt;br /&gt;We did a ton of History and Environmental Science there! And saw our first tarantula and Jerusalem cricket.&lt;br /&gt;We just got home in February from a major around the U.S. excursion. This is where my introduction begins, because this trip was really defining for us. My elder son and I started homeschooling 9th grade just before we left last July. My younger son started 6th grade at the same time, and is in 7th now. We've seen ourselves as homeschoolers since the older son was 3. We use Boy Scouts heavily, and now Civil Air Patrol as well, for my older son. We tend to be borderline unschooling relaxed eclectic homeschoolers. ;-)&lt;br /&gt;I am homeschooling college-doing some credit by evaluation based largely on my homeschooling experiences and some on-line courses. My sons are dyslexic, but against all forecasts [by evaluators] are readers[the elder son at grade level, the younger way beyond]. My limited time with my boys is scaring me to death...they're not near "done" yet!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-2450333704247842548?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/2450333704247842548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=2450333704247842548' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/2450333704247842548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/2450333704247842548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/09/notes-from-trip.html' title='notes from the trip'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-3194046263087293824</id><published>2008-09-06T14:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T14:41:09.666-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gumby</title><content type='html'>Giving notice here, brothers of mine-you can no longer claim to be Mom’s favorite. Neither can I, if it’s any comfort. A new love has claimed her affections-and she’s not even flesh and blood. She is a bit like a large Frisbee with wheels, rumbles as she moves, and trundles through the house uninhibited...and her name is Gumby.&lt;br /&gt;It’s the Roomba! Mother is talking to it like it is a member of the household. She does seem a little gender confused…usually it is “she” but sometimes she calls it “he”…last night she dreamed she let it sleep on her bed. &lt;br /&gt;Ok, guys…time for an intervention? How about if we just get her a cat [against her protests, of course…it’s for her own good.]…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-3194046263087293824?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/3194046263087293824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=3194046263087293824' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/3194046263087293824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/3194046263087293824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/09/gumby.html' title='Gumby'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-7658002004272915998</id><published>2008-08-20T04:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T04:45:42.040-07:00</updated><title type='text'>safely there</title><content type='html'>Finally we pulled up to the gate of Bandelier National park. The Ranger was there to direct us to a camping site among the trees. We were pretty burnt out, so we set up and then just relaxed. The next morning was dedicated to housekeeping chores, but after lunch we got to go out and visit a few cave dwellings and kivas. My sons and I did the Junior Ranger activities and earned a patch apiece. I usually was not a participant, and at 15 years of age, my older son was often not eligible, but here they encouraged everyone to do the activities in the name of education. A thought provoking question was, “How do we convince people not to put graffiti on the cliff walls…” My 12 year old’s answer was  “I don’t think you can. It is human nature. You can do what you can to discourage it, but after all, isn’t what the Anasazi were doing in cliff paintings about the same thing?”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-7658002004272915998?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/7658002004272915998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=7658002004272915998' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/7658002004272915998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/7658002004272915998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/08/safely-there.html' title='safely there'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-7423127113462341133</id><published>2008-08-17T17:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-17T17:44:43.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Road to Los Alamos</title><content type='html'>We have been listening to “Surely You’re Joking Mr. Feynman” in the car the last couple of days. My brother thought we’d enjoy this book by a famous physicist and gave us the cds. I had read the book sometime ago, and found it interesting enough to have another go at it. Warped humor you know-always a draw for me. Anyway, we are at a stage where Richard Feynman is talking about his first experiences at Los Alamos, and it is bringing back memories of the Great Westward Exploration we did, several years ago. At dinner today, my brother was asking, did we travel for 10 months on that trip? I told him, “No, although it seemed much longer at times, it was only 7 months.” My uncle said that’s too long, he finds one month to be more than enough time away from home, and I agreed with him. However, I am glad we did it when we did.&lt;br /&gt;To me, our trip to Los Alamos begins in Jemez Pueblo. There was some kind of festival going on and traffic was slow. Houses were adorned with gorgeous cones of red and green and yellow peppers, some on adobe walls that set them off like framed art. The peppers are my strongest impression of the place. &lt;br /&gt;We stopped at Walatowa Visitor Center and talked to the rangers, looked at the displays, and discussed whether to find a place for the night or go on to Bandelier National Park. The Rangers assured us the weather looked good, snow much later that night, but we should be good if we traveled on right away. We blithely went on our way down and it promptly began to snow…just lightly…we’d be fine, we were sure…boy was that grade steep…but it would end soon…seemed to be snowing harder…weren’t those big fluffy white clumps of snow pretty. ..everyone was passing our truck and camper rig…that was fine…better they were far away, made us feel a little safer…getting a bit slick here…will this grade ever end…can you see beyond the nose of the truck…just barely…no stopping here…no going back…gee that ranger passing us looks nervous…hey I think he is leading us…just far enough ahead so we can see his lights…I feel a little better but guess I’ll keep praying…I think the grade is getting steeper if anything...the road is really greasy now...&lt;br /&gt;to be continued&lt;br /&gt;http://tiny.cc/IpTGV&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-7423127113462341133?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/7423127113462341133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=7423127113462341133' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/7423127113462341133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/7423127113462341133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/08/road-to-los-alamos.html' title='The Road to Los Alamos'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-9034670442888175521</id><published>2008-07-06T05:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T05:54:28.536-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the Cart-scalator'/><title type='text'>The Cart-scalator</title><content type='html'>On Sunday, my mother and I made a trip to the really big big-box store to pick up a few things…the store is so big, it has two floors and an escalator to move people up and down between them…and a cart-scalator to move their carts, too. We felt a bit like Ma and Pa Kettle visit the city here. &lt;br /&gt;Two stories-one for food, crafts and books, one for everything else-makes it necessary to have a people moving system, so there is an escalator in the middle of the store. As we approached the escalator we wondered what we would do with our cart, which had a few things in it. No problem! Between the downscalator and the upscalator [as I like to call them] was a narrow passage with gates…the cart-scalator! We stood and gawked for a moment, watching how people used this wonder…we didn’t want to do it wrong and look foolish!&lt;br /&gt;We were not the only ones first casting eyes upon this modern convenience…children were squealing with delight, seemingly sophisticated young people were laughing and pointing out features, timid elderly folks were backing away…&lt;br /&gt;We felt confident we could get ourselves and our cart safely to the lower level, so we approached the gate. Pushing the cart through the gate, I thought I was prepared, but then the cart was grabbed out of my hands and pulled into the channel. I jumped back and we dashed to the downscalator, arriving right after our cart started its descent. The cart-scalator is timed a little slower than the escalator, so soon we were neck and neck. Ahead of us, a young couple, carrying their baby in a snugli on Daddy’s chest, were watching and commenting on their cart’s progress. An infant carrier perched precariously on the top of the child seat wobbled at first, but then steadied. A coffee cup placed in the bottom of the cart wiggled and jiggled and the young lady exclaimed “Your coffee is spilling!” But no, the young man assured her, the cup is empty.&lt;br /&gt;At the bottom, the exit gate was momentarily blocked by up-going passengers trying to work out the cart loading scheme, but I said “excuse me” and they parted so we could retrieve our cart. We merrily went on our shopping way, a little wiser in the ways of the world and invigorated by our adventure. Simple pleasures for simple people!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-9034670442888175521?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/9034670442888175521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=9034670442888175521' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/9034670442888175521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/9034670442888175521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/07/cart-scalator.html' title='The Cart-scalator'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-2350335795046240897</id><published>2008-05-31T05:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-31T05:49:13.259-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This week at work</title><content type='html'>This week at work, I brainwashed several 2 year olds[and a couple of 18 month olds] into a real love of school buses…I also petted a tarantula, shook hands with a large furry bear, sang a million verses of  “The Wheels on the bus” [well, actually only 2 or 3 verses, over and over and over…] presided over a car wash, and came close to being vomited on. My job is so exciting!&lt;br /&gt;On Tuesday, We ran a hose into the playground and used a basin and rags to wash some dusty riding toys and our two jeeps [that used to be battery operated before they were given to us]. That was a lot of fun, and we ended up getting very wet. I was really thankful that it was such a warm day…&lt;br /&gt; On Wednesday, a group of children were playing in our cardboard box aka bear cave/house/garage, when one threw up. I ended up stripping his best friend down to her diaper and washing her shoes to get all the vomit off her. That was the sad end of our box...&lt;br /&gt;We had a special field trip scheduled for Thursday, so I started indoctrinating the kiddos last week-this Tuesday we were invited to get on the bus and sit in the seats. I had to carry the youngest onto the bus, she was very nervous about it at first. After a few minutes she warmed up to the idea and started exploring the bus-at least I think that is what she was doing-she did seem to be paying special attention to the emergency exits.&lt;br /&gt;Since I switched hours with my aide and started arriving a little later, I always hit the ground running when I enter the classroom door. On Thursday, it was a mad rush to get everyone fed, diapered, and sun screened. We met the deadline and boarded the bus. We were barely out of the parking lot when my ESL student indicated to me that he wanted to sing “The Wheels on the Bus”. He looked over his shoulder, back at me, said “bus?”, “wheels?” and moved hands and arms in a circular motion. I am so proud of him; his grasp of English has just exploded lately. So of course we sang for all of the fraction of a mile it took us to reach our destination.&lt;br /&gt;We disembarked and started looking at the amenities available-a magnet fishing pool, a play dough table, a foam and paper craft table. We made spiders from Styrofoam and pipe cleaners, and met a tarantula named Faith. One of my little dears wanted me to “Touch it! Touch it!” So I got permission and gave poor Faith conniptions by gently touching her back. Already some of the kids were chanting “Bus? Bus?”&lt;br /&gt;Smokey the Bear approached us as we were having some water, and my kids’ faces froze…I shook his hand and patted his arm, and my bravest lad also shook his hand, but then one of the children started to wail and we had to beat feet. We did manage to plant some flower seeds, but the rest of our visit was punctuated not only with chants of “Bus, bus!”, but with cries of alarm and pointing as Smokey came ever closer… Finally we boarded the bus for the return trip. I tell you, I had some tired little teddy bears! They were so overtired, it took almost an hour to get them all settled down for naptime after they’d eaten lunch.&lt;br /&gt;For the next day and a half, we had screams of joy every time we saw the bus, and all of our play was peppered with enquiries of “Smokey Bear?” Overall, a very successful and productive week at work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-2350335795046240897?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/2350335795046240897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=2350335795046240897' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/2350335795046240897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/2350335795046240897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/05/this-week-at-work.html' title='This week at work'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-7449449680495078232</id><published>2008-05-24T09:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T13:43:56.265-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Perpetual Master's Degree</title><content type='html'>I've been thinking about my future. I know I want to get a Master's degree, but I'm not sure what my focus would be. Educational research? Reading specialization? Preschool science? Something in the educational field at any rate. &lt;br /&gt;It sure is taking me awhile to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. When you think about it, I am 46 and it took me 26 years to earn my Bachelors degree, 8 years actually taking classes and earning credit...not sure if I have time to waste here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-7449449680495078232?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/7449449680495078232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=7449449680495078232' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/7449449680495078232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/7449449680495078232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/05/perpetual-masters-degree.html' title='Perpetual Master&apos;s Degree'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-9016220064232788068</id><published>2008-05-24T08:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T08:59:17.545-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fafsa aargh</title><content type='html'>No, it’s not a foreign language. It is just a reflection of my feelings, having just completed 2 federal aid forms-one for each son. These documents, called the Free Application for Federal Student Aid [aka Fafsa], are miracles of circular reasoning. In order to access the document, you put in information like student’s name, social security number, and birth date. Then you press the Next button, which takes you to the “confirm your identity page”, on which you fill in the student’s name, social security number, and birth date. The Next button here takes you to the actual application page, on which there are blanks for the…you guessed it… student’s name, social security number, and birth date. Mercifully, smart technology kicks in at this point, and the blanks have been filled in for you. &lt;br /&gt;So, I went through the whole process once, then did it all again, noticing on boy number two’s final confirmation page that I could have chosen a button to pre-fill the second child’s application. That’s where the “aaargh” really sets in.&lt;br /&gt;I really can’t complain too much-since it took me six years to finish the final two and a half years of my bachelor’s degree, I have plenty of helpful practice. And, if I did everything right this time, I should be able to access the applications next year and make small changes without having to completely re-file. Yay!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-9016220064232788068?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/9016220064232788068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=9016220064232788068' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/9016220064232788068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/9016220064232788068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/05/fafsa-aargh.html' title='Fafsa aargh'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-4521932294578226181</id><published>2008-05-10T17:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T17:52:53.993-07:00</updated><title type='text'>That Cat</title><content type='html'>Five o'clock in the morning , and Molly Bad Cat decides she'd like an early breakfast. She walks all over The Man, then touches noses with The Woman, saying in a perfectly clear voice [in Catese, of course-all intelligent beings speak Catese]"Feed me now!". The folks are not responsive, obviously rendered unconscious by some insidious force. Molly B. Cat takes things in her own hands and goes to the buzzy box on the night stand. This box is miraculous...when it buzzes, people jump up and feed the cat and all is as it should be. Molly B. pushes the box to the edge of the stand-one more push and it will fall on the floor, causing the noise that will save the peoples, earning Molly their eternal gratitude. Just before the crucial moment, The Woman opens her eyes and grabs the buzzy box. She makes a funny face and says, "I've got another half hour!" [in human, which of course, Molly, as a sophisticated student of primitive languages, understands perfectly...although she often pretends not to...in order to better study primitive beings unobtrusively]. When the woman closes her eyes, Molly stomps back across the bed. Finally The Man sees some sense and says, "I might as well get up..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-4521932294578226181?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/4521932294578226181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=4521932294578226181' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/4521932294578226181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/4521932294578226181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/05/that-cat.html' title='That Cat'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-3865886926027159745</id><published>2008-05-10T15:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T15:41:24.221-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Great Food Coloring Caper</title><content type='html'>We had a lot of fun at school this week, playing with cause and effect. Food coloring had a part in much of this-like, (1) if we add coloring to the water in a vase and put in a white carnation, what happens? (2)If you add red color at one end of the water in the texture table, and yellow color in the other end, and mix well, what happens to the water?(3) If you have jars of food colored-water, eye droppers, coffee filters, and eight two year olds,what can you make?  (5)What happens if the teacher leaves the food coloring on the lower counter?&lt;br /&gt;The answers-(1)the flowers in the blue and yellow waters change colors-for some reason, the red and green vases are slow to share the colors with the flower. (2)You get orange water! (3) Beautiful paper flowers ;-) and (4) a mess on the puzzle table, all the way across the room! You also get four marked plotters, one of whom is caught red-handed…the other three, of course, are blue, yellow and green handed…Which brings me to a question I have always pondered…if red, yellow and blue are chosen for the classic four vial food coloring box because they are the primary colors all other colors are made from, as I assume, who decided to put green in, and why?&lt;br /&gt;How about a nice purple or magenta or chartreuse? Actually, I always need brown and have little luck with mixing the “toast” formula on the back of the box…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-3865886926027159745?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/3865886926027159745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=3865886926027159745' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/3865886926027159745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/3865886926027159745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/05/great-food-coloring-caper.html' title='The Great Food Coloring Caper'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-624924136127368814</id><published>2008-04-23T16:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T16:52:45.539-07:00</updated><title type='text'>it's official-I am not a homeschooling parent</title><content type='html'>From April 4th...That's right. Today is the day-I entered the last of my baby’s tests into the website and they will be mailing his diploma soon. This is a really weird feeling. I am still providing books for him to read from now until he leaves to work at Scout camp, and we will be working closely on college application and financial aid forms, but mostly, it's just...over.&lt;br /&gt;After 16 years of identifying myself as a homeschooling parent, it feels very strange to move on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-624924136127368814?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/624924136127368814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=624924136127368814' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/624924136127368814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/624924136127368814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/04/its-official-i-am-not-homeschooling.html' title='it&apos;s official-I am not a homeschooling parent'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-9131481572315671741</id><published>2008-04-12T06:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-12T06:33:56.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Book report</title><content type='html'>My brother suggested a book and author on his &lt;a href="http://blog.smithjon.com/"&gt;blog &lt;/a&gt;  a few weeks back and I read and enjoyed the book, so brother said I needed to post about what I  am reading. I am reading “the Winter King”, an Arthur legend by the author Jon suggested, Bernard Cornwall. I am also reading “Dragonsinger” by Anne McCaffrey. And “Matilda Bone” by Karen Kushman, the story of a medieval bonesetter’s apprentice. I also have started reading the invention of “Hugo Cabret, a novel in words and pictures” and I just picked up a Star Wars novel from the library, as well as “All through the night, a troubleshooter Christmas”, and “The Gift”. Oh and “No Biting”…bet you can guess where I’m going with THAT choice. :o&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-9131481572315671741?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/9131481572315671741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=9131481572315671741' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/9131481572315671741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/9131481572315671741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/04/book-report.html' title='Book report'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-2804027984410569050</id><published>2008-03-30T13:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-30T13:35:06.760-07:00</updated><title type='text'>something fishy</title><content type='html'>When I thought I was pretty sure I'd get the job teaching 18 month to three year olds, I started brainstorming about how I'd like it to be. Bright colors, lots of activity and life in my classroom...I began looking around for resources. I got an email from freecycle offering guppies so I contacted the giver to see how hard they would be to care for. Sounded easy enough...so my fourth day at work, I approached my boss and got permission to have the fish in my classroom. I then contacted the guppy lady and set up a date for pick up.&lt;br /&gt;Then my comedy of errors began...I dug out my old plastic tank and found it had a big hole in one corner. Searched my basement and found two biscotti jars a neighbor woman gave us, decided they could work with a little modification. My husband cut out the center part of one lid and we set in a circle of screen, and I had a carry lid and a breathing lid. One jar sits in my class for the fish and one holds water to condition and be ready for water changes.&lt;br /&gt;The day we had scheduled for pick up approached-and we found out we needed/wanted to go to an event for my sister-in-law's family the same day. But the fish were located on the route, so we planned to pick them up on the way. It was very cold out, and I began to worry about leaving the fish in the car...but I worked it out. I dumped my purse in a grocery bag, and slipped the fish, baggie and margarine tub and all, into my purse. [I did not tell my mother this.] The fish happily attended the family event and then went out to eat with us.&lt;br /&gt;I was a little worried how my aide would feel about the fish; not to worry! When she saw them she was so excited. And so were the kids. One of the boys tried to share his strawberries with them [that screen was good thinking!]. One little girl squealed with delight when she saw the fish. Everyday the kids love to see them.&lt;br /&gt;We had a snow day last Friday. My boss called to let me know to stay home and an hour later I realized...my poor fish! I found out that the building would be open for a few hours midday, so we arranged to pick them up on our way to pick up my niece. This time we had a picnic cooler in the car to insulate the fishies from the cold, so they didn't need to come in everywhere with us.&lt;br /&gt;My kitty Molly is so happy to have the fish home for a visit. She likes to try to steal their food. She loves to chase them around the jar. She loves to just curl up around the jar and gaze fondly at them.&lt;br /&gt;Ah the hours of enjoyment our fishies provide us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-2804027984410569050?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/2804027984410569050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=2804027984410569050' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/2804027984410569050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/2804027984410569050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/03/something-fishy.html' title='something fishy'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-642411295027416800</id><published>2008-03-23T17:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-23T17:32:20.601-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun at work</title><content type='html'>I have written my first week of lesson plans for the new job! Teddy Bears everywhere this week…hiding in sand or under fake fur in the texture table, piled in the housekeeping corner, pictures to paint and hang on the wall, even teddy bears in song or rhyme during circle time. We will hunt teddy bears and read about them, take them for walks and cuddle with them. It seemed like an easy subject to start my first lesson plans with…next week, we will start a two week spring unit-maybe it will hurry the season on a bit. Hope hope hope!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-642411295027416800?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/642411295027416800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=642411295027416800' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/642411295027416800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/642411295027416800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/03/fun-at-work.html' title='Fun at work'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-6269031302535161506</id><published>2008-03-07T05:45:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-07T05:45:55.435-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gainfully employed</title><content type='html'>I've been researching stuff for my new job duties…namely, teaching 18 month to 3 year old babies. This is going to be fun. I'm going to see if I can do the monarch caterpillar project in my classroom…I hear someone has neon guppies to give away…I think we will build a life size magnolia tree in the classroom, with coffee filter flowers and brown paper trunk…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been saying my guys aren't much fun anymore. At 19 and 17, craft projects leave them cold and my field trip ideas elicit groans. Well, fine! I can deal with it…I have new little buddies. Maybe we can make recycled space ships…walk to the library…do a spring thing scavenger hunt! Oh boy oh boy oh boy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-6269031302535161506?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/6269031302535161506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=6269031302535161506' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/6269031302535161506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/6269031302535161506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/03/gainfully-employed.html' title='Gainfully employed'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-4955374295354409157</id><published>2008-03-05T06:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T06:07:59.972-08:00</updated><title type='text'>CAM</title><content type='html'>Have I invented a new acronym for a condition I have observed? The condition is one I have seen in myself, in my mother, my college-aged son and the elementary school students I work with. We take an action on the computer and when the results take a few seconds to happen, even as much as a minute or two [gasp!] we get impatient, upset, even irate. I’m calling it the Cyber Age Malady, aka C.A.M.. So, do you suffer from CAM?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-4955374295354409157?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/4955374295354409157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=4955374295354409157' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/4955374295354409157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/4955374295354409157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/03/cam.html' title='CAM'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-2912639168294220232</id><published>2008-02-29T05:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-29T05:55:10.492-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Job</title><content type='html'>Interview process is over. I did not get the first job I interviewed for. I did not get the second job I interviewed for. I got the job vacated by someone who took one of the other jobs! My official title is Head Teacher in the Toddler room. Now doesn’t that sound prestigious?&lt;br /&gt;I will be writing lesson plans and changing diapers, assessing progress and disinfecting toys, making reports and pushing the stroller around the block. I love it!&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I saw my new charges at play in the gym and toured my classroom. My “babies” are 18 months to 3 years old, and look like lots of fun. I’m sure there will be challenges but I am even kind of looking forward to that. My room is bright and sunny and full of evidence of creative teaching and creative kids.&lt;br /&gt;Soon I will be saying good bye to my other kids. Sixty-seven kindergarten through third graders, of whom eleven first graders were my special charge. I will miss them but I will not miss trying to keep track of who all those kids belong to. Pick-up time can be a real madhouse! Keeping track of just ten kids and who their parents are sounds much easier.&lt;br /&gt;Teaching toddlers...I think this is what I want to be when I grow up! At least for a few years.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-2912639168294220232?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/2912639168294220232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=2912639168294220232' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/2912639168294220232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/2912639168294220232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/02/new-job.html' title='New Job'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-8539015278075759619</id><published>2008-02-28T06:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T06:42:06.417-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's still not fair!</title><content type='html'>A week later…my friend took the job with the rising young newspaper, an exciting opportunity. A week after that, for confusing reasons, she was let go. It’s still not fair. For her, really unfair. But the other job in her field was still open so she is newly employed…yet again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-8539015278075759619?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/8539015278075759619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=8539015278075759619' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/8539015278075759619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/8539015278075759619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/02/its-still-not-fair.html' title='It&apos;s still not fair!'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-4546022637808647069</id><published>2008-02-28T06:38:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T06:38:35.593-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's not Fair!</title><content type='html'>week ago at work a young lady told me she felt it wasn’t fair that I ended up having my book club meeting in a corner of the cafeteria instead of going down the hall to a quieter room. It was really crazy day, and the kids seemed especially wound up so I thought I might be able to help the situation if I stayed nearby and tried to suck in some of the other kids, get them going on a project and too busy to get in trouble. Later I was thinking about her concerns. It was kind of funny, that week we both had birthdays. I believe she turned 19 and I turned 46. [That’s right, Chris-46…not 50+] Maybe the difference in our years made a difference in how we saw the situation. Maybe I gave up on “fair” many years ago…&lt;br /&gt;Maybe not…&lt;br /&gt;I have been trying to find full time work. The interview process is agony to me. In the meantime, my mother has people beg her to come to work…less than a mile from her house…on her terms concerning when she wants to work. And my graphic artist friend…well don’t get me started! She answered one ad… went on one interview…and suddenly she’s trying to decide between three positions, two of which are in her field. &lt;br /&gt;It’s not fair!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-4546022637808647069?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/4546022637808647069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=4546022637808647069' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/4546022637808647069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/4546022637808647069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/02/its-not-fair.html' title='It&apos;s not Fair!'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-4947512574667751206</id><published>2008-02-25T05:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-25T05:24:49.592-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Interview process</title><content type='html'>Since I completed my computer class and my job shadow project, I am even more sure that I don’t want to be an Office worker. I want to play with kids! But I do want to work more hours [and earn more money]. So when I went out for lunch with my graphic artist friend [who was also looking for a job] we looked over the local help wanted ads and I found something right up my alley. Head teacher [don’t that sound prestigious!] for a local child development council’s after school program. Right after lunch I called the Displaced Homemaker’s office and made an appointment to update my resume. &lt;br /&gt;Boy do I look good on paper! It’s a real head sweller. But my dear friends are so good at keeping my feet on the ground. I needed to submit three letters of recommendation with the resume and I emailed a request for same to most of the people I’ve worked with in a volunteer capacity, and got a good response. Of course I had to shelf the letter about how I lie awake nights thinking of ways to make my scouts suffer…and the letter about the eating of the fishy eye incident. But the letters about my wonderful common sense, my creativity, and my miraculous ability to stretch a buck, those I could use. &lt;br /&gt;My brothers gave plenty of good advice on interviewing successfully. Look the interviewer in the eye, don’t be scary, write a thank-you note. I’m trying to do everything right…hopefully that will count in my favor even if I fail in some small detail.&lt;br /&gt;Before my first interview I found a second ad for a position working with preschoolers as an assistant teacher in the same organization, so at the interview I let them know I’d go for either position. Here I am, two interviews later, waiting waiting waiting. Can you believe the hiring staff all went on vacation for a week? Aaargh! The suspense! But they did call me just before they left and ask if I’d be interested in a possible third situation as head teacher working with toddlers. So that triples my chances.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-4947512574667751206?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/4947512574667751206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=4947512574667751206' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/4947512574667751206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/4947512574667751206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/02/interview-process.html' title='Interview process'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-5406357393872985492</id><published>2008-02-22T06:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-22T06:46:49.370-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A day with my kids</title><content type='html'>As a homeschooling Mom, it used to be that every day was a day with my kids. No longer. Now it is a red letter day if we spend a few hours together. At 17 and 19 years of age, my kids have a life separate from mine. And I realized not so long ago, that I needed a life separate from theirs, as well. &lt;br /&gt;The older son, our crown price, so to speak, is a college student. His younger brother, the beloved baby of the family, will graduate high school this year and probably go on to college next fall. Saturdays, they usually spend the day on the slopes. Weekdays, I’m out working. So as you can see, we aren’t even in the same building that much anymore.&lt;br /&gt;But Tuesday was different. We dragged them out of bed early, made the hour drive to the mall, where Dad dropped us off and then went off to his doctor’s appointment. We shopped together some, split up and met again, then spent half an hour waiting in a seating area to meet Dad. Not that we talked much. The wee darlings carry their portable game systems everywhere so they played some competitive and cooperative games while I people watched. &lt;br /&gt;When Dad picked us up we went to lunch…all you can eat Chinese-American-Italian-Japanese buffet. We all ate our fill and then sat talking for awhile. I love the way their minds work. Even though the 17 year old is experimenting with political positions that are polar opposites of his family tradition…or maybe that makes him even more interesting. The 19 year old is studying psychology, and it seems he has a good level headed teacher. Monday’s class was about Phineas Gage. Fascinating but gory stuff. &lt;br /&gt; [ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phineas_Gage ]&lt;br /&gt;They also discussed seizures, which dear son found he had the most firsthand observational experience with, thanks to his late Grandfather.&lt;br /&gt;Well, our next stop was kind of obvious-since I like the way their brains work, and we were discussing brain trauma, we went helmet shopping. My older dear son is a skier, his brother is a snowboarder. Their Ski Patrol friend has been telling them horror stories of his own, mostly from training but one or two from personal experience.  So we went hunting helmets and found what we needed at our second stop. Something to soothe Mom’s worries while protecting their “cool” image. Tomorrow morning they will test drive the new equipment, and I will worry about my part time son, who was getting another kind of hardware [braces] while we were hunting helmets. We will get him fixed up soon…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-5406357393872985492?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/5406357393872985492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=5406357393872985492' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/5406357393872985492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/5406357393872985492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/02/day-with-my-kids.html' title='A day with my kids'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-8686394566388166992</id><published>2008-02-19T15:26:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T15:27:21.855-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the shadow knows</title><content type='html'>I finished my computer classes with flying colors and all kinds of accolades from the teacher. She had to shelve her usual textbook because it was an INTRODUCTION to Access, Excel and Word and my 2 classmates and I were beyond that point. She found a more advanced text for us to use, and introduced us to Power Point and HTML. I created my first Power Point production, for my Citizens in the Community merit badge at Scouts. I'm pretty proud of it although my brothers go on something awful about "death by Power Point", evidently a demise they much fear.&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm in the middle of my job shadow assignment. My ego is crashing down around my ears. It is a consolation to me that the people I am working with will never forget me. Every time they open a file folder and find one or two sheets inside, upside down, they will think of me. Every time they use the paper shredder [which may never be the same] they will think of me. So many things will remind them of me.&lt;br /&gt;Luckily they found a place for me, upstairs in the library stacks. I spend my days looking for damaged bar codes on the books. Sometimes they are just worn out, sometimes paranoid patrons remove them…to keep the library police from spying on them through tiny microchip cameras hidden in the bar codes, evidently. &lt;br /&gt;So, ask me, what do I want to be when I grow up? An office worker? Well, let’s just say…The Shadow Knows….&lt;br /&gt;NOT!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-8686394566388166992?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/8686394566388166992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=8686394566388166992' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/8686394566388166992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/8686394566388166992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-finished-my-computer-classes-with.html' title='the shadow knows'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-1818396344118977764</id><published>2007-12-24T12:30:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-06T05:30:02.228-08:00</updated><title type='text'>get a life?</title><content type='html'>I am writing this in anticipation of the month of January. I have mentioned my little 3 to 6 pm job each afternoon, and now I am planning to go to work full time in 2008. But first, I'll beef up my skills and my resume, and research what kind of job I want. I love working with kids...maybe I'll look into working with younger kids or something. Starting January 3rd I'll be taking computer classes at the local state university from 9 to 3, then heading off to work. Not sure when I'll find time to breathe, much less write. Part of the program is kind of an internship or "job shadowing" as they call it. That could be fun. &lt;br /&gt;Speaking of fun, I'll be on the same campus as my beloved son-most of his classes are on the opposite side of the campus, so we may not see much of each other, but I can try...I just know the dear boy is happily anticipating Mom's presence on campus!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-1818396344118977764?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/1818396344118977764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=1818396344118977764' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/1818396344118977764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/1818396344118977764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2007/12/get-life.html' title='get a life?'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-8096861246540772611</id><published>2007-12-24T12:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-24T12:28:42.400-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas morning</title><content type='html'>My 16 year old just informed me he wants to sleep in on Christmas morning. Oh my heart! It's not right, just not right! He and his friend went on to reminisce on the "good old days", when they could hardly sleep on Christmas eve, but that's all over now-they know the stuff will be there at 11 am just like it is there at 5 am. Sleep is more important. I think I'm putting the dog in his room-no later than 6 am, for sure-then I think I'll call his friend's house and have his parents rouse him up. It's only right...we'll call it pay back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-8096861246540772611?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/8096861246540772611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=8096861246540772611' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/8096861246540772611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/8096861246540772611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2007/12/christmas-morning.html' title='Christmas morning'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-1443741522801343104</id><published>2007-12-22T08:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-22T08:21:45.545-08:00</updated><title type='text'>parking spots</title><content type='html'>D [who took me to see the Nutcracker] works with my #2 brother in a building about a block from the theater-so when we parked in the building's secured parking, I asked to see my brother's parking place. I was shocked to find out he doesn't have one! Someone as important as my brother, and no reserved parking spot...shocker. I told D that she might be able to convince ME that my brother didn't have his own space, but no one could ever convince my mother of that. As far as she is concerned, all of her kids run the places they work at, or they should. Sure enough, I told Mother that brother doesn't have his name on a parking spot-and she ignored me. She started some trouble by telling brother #1 all about the alleged parking spot, so he went out and got his own personalized space. We are all relieved that he was not caught...I guess the black sweats and face mask were good enough cover. Not sure what color spray paint he used...but I'm certain he used his best handwriting.&lt;br /&gt;When brother #3 heard about #1's parking spot, he had his own story to tell. He was so shocked and surprised when his boss offered him a reserved parking space, he turned it down. He's sorry now, but it does give him a one up on his brothers-he's soooo good, he was offered a spot but he didn't even take it!&lt;br /&gt;Then there is me-the rose among the thorns. What I was given, when I started my job was a map of the parking lot with 90% of the spaces blocked out-kind of like a reverse reserved parking place, you know? At least I know where I CAN'T park!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-1443741522801343104?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/1443741522801343104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=1443741522801343104' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/1443741522801343104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/1443741522801343104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2007/12/parking-spots.html' title='parking spots'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-5583430361003946382</id><published>2007-12-22T07:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-22T08:12:38.519-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A few weeks ago I had a nice holiday surprise-an unexpected invitation to the Nutcracker ballet. Seems a friend[D] had 4 tickets and her husband had decided he wasn't going-unless they served beer-which seemed unlikely, it being a cultural thing and all. So, I had two hours to leave the scouts' fundraising booth[we were selling wreaths and decorations for our spring trip], get cleaned up and back down the hill to my friend's house. You bet I did it, with time to spare. The fun began almost immediately, as we headed out the door to the car and D's daughter mentioned to her boyfriend that it was a BALLET we were headed to-such a look on his face! To his credit, he did go on and get into the car anyway.&lt;br /&gt;The ballet was enjoyable and the historical theater was a treat to see. There was a little girl in our section with handfuls of bling-sometimes she wore it, sometimes she had it all in her hands and played with it. At one point, she had to be reined in because she was dancing in her seat, following the movements of the sugar plum fairies. I figured she was part of the entertainment. Oh, and by the way, Dave, they do serve beer at the ballet!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-5583430361003946382?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/5583430361003946382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=5583430361003946382' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/5583430361003946382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/5583430361003946382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2007/12/few-weeks-ago-i-had-nice-holiday.html' title=''/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-333016036110554924</id><published>2007-11-21T05:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T05:59:37.273-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the energizer bunny</title><content type='html'>My Father recently was hospitalized as a result of two heart attacks and a stroke. You are probably thinking this blog entry is going to be a little darker than my normal stuff, and you’d probably be right. But knowing me, I will inject a bit of humor and a lot of irony into the entry. &lt;br /&gt;Way back in the early 1960’s my Father received his first death sentence-no more than six months left of his life, two years if he got a miracle. Don’t father anymore children, you won’t live to see them grow up. [I was the one and only at that point] But by the way, you might get the whole two years, and we’d gain knowledge to help others, if you’d try this experimental treatment. Always a gambler, he gave it a go. &lt;br /&gt;Fast forward 44 years, here we are in the present. Not only have four of his five children grown to adulthood, a few of his seven grandchildren are approaching  that threshold [note to the wee darlings-be aware that I said merely APPROACHING…you have not arrived at adulthood even at the ripe old ages of 19...16...and ESPECIALLY not 12...no matter how mature you think you are. Oh…and I love you muchly!]&lt;br /&gt;Now you know how my father got the nickname "the energizer bunny".&lt;br /&gt;So, after two ambulance rides, my father arrived at his hospital home for the rest of  October and the beginning of November.&lt;br /&gt;My mother and I moved in with my Aunt [near the hospital] and began a round of commuting-hospital, Aunt’s, home for a day or two, and work for me. Having a school related job meant I had several already-scheduled days off, which helped greatly. Over the next 16 days we learned just how much we have to be thankful for. A steady stream of visitors broke up the days for both of my parents and myself, those who couldn’t visit much gave us gas money [how about those prices, ay?], and we know there were a lot of prayers sent heavenward on our behalf.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-333016036110554924?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/333016036110554924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=333016036110554924' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/333016036110554924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/333016036110554924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2007/11/energizer-bunny.html' title='the energizer bunny'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-2069354498172151335</id><published>2007-11-18T17:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-18T17:43:55.873-08:00</updated><title type='text'>holidays are for kids-of all ages</title><content type='html'>By Thanksgiving we may have two new babies among us-the second is due the day before the big event. My nieces and nephews, ages 3 to 12, and at least one other young cousin will be there to liven things up, too. The 4 teens [my own sons included] just aren’t as much fun as they used to be. They just sit there and talk [maybe]. I’m making a note to bring a craft, puzzles, coloring books, and a game or two. The adults just need a little excuse to get right into these activities. After all, it’s for the kids!&lt;br /&gt;Another activity the kids love is the annual Christmas present at Thanksgiving for all attendees under 18. Nail polish, chap stick, lip-gloss, candy and flashlights for the teens and all kinds of fun things for the wee ones.  One year an Aunt found a really cool fighter jet for my son, within the $3 price limit. When you pressed the nose, it screamed like a real jet. That item got jammed under the driver’s seat of our van for a month, and Daddy drove well within the speed limit the whole time. Then we figured out that police officers with sirens were NOT following us everywhere we went-it was the jet. My son was not the only one relieved to find and retrieve his favorite toy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-2069354498172151335?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/2069354498172151335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=2069354498172151335' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/2069354498172151335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/2069354498172151335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2007/11/holidays-are-for-kids-of-all-ages.html' title='holidays are for kids-of all ages'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-2796729389819902154</id><published>2007-11-17T02:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-17T02:57:29.107-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Traditionally, my first annual taste of eggnog is at a gas station on the way to Thanksgiving dinner. We stop for gas [it’s usually cheaper in that county than closer to home] and the clerks are offering samples. This year I have ruined my tradition…I’ve had eggnog at least three times already. Sigh. Well, if you get too locked into tradition it can become meaningless-I’ll just congratulate myself for being flexible and trying something new.&lt;br /&gt;There are plenty of other traditions I will uphold this year-I am always very careful not to eat too much dinner, for instance. Don’t mistake this as a righteous and healthy choice. I’m saving myself for pecan pie and strawberry shortcake-served on angel food cake for this occasion. I think my dear sister-in-law may even make a homemade angel food cake for this purpose. [hint hint] The trick to putting together a serving of this delicacy is to get lots of juice-it soaks into the cake so nicely! The pecan pie is traditionally brought by my Aunt, the family Matriarch. I have to make room in my tummy for this one. I am so thankful there are nuts on the tables at dessert time, to eat between sweet bites-I’d never be able to get through the day otherwise. Sometimes we have potato fudge, too. My Aunt, Uncles, and Mother remember this fondly as a Sunday night staple back at the “old homestead”. It certainly is delicious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-2796729389819902154?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/2796729389819902154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=2796729389819902154' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/2796729389819902154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/2796729389819902154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2007/11/traditionally-my-first-annual-taste-of.html' title=''/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-6082130152461639961</id><published>2007-11-16T04:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T05:05:46.366-08:00</updated><title type='text'>let the holidays begin</title><content type='html'>My loyal fan is disappointed because I have not blogged in so long so I dedicate this essay to him. Vacation is over and here I come!&lt;br /&gt;Next week is the 24th annual family Thanksgiving gathering at my Uncle's garage. Perhaps I am a little conceited, but I like to believe Uncle built that garage just for these little soirees. This year we expect all 16 of my Mother's branch of the family [Uncle recognizes her as his beloved little sister, in spite of the incident with his bicycle and the blue paint...] and at least 16 from the other siblings' families.&lt;br /&gt;The garage has room for several tables and includes a furnace and stove, and a bathroom with a light outside the door, to alert everyone, in case they didn't notice you sneaking in there. We were all relieved to see the furnace replace the woodstove-we were wearing our lightest summer clothing in order to avoid baking ourselves, and Uncle had a habit of feeding books into the stove with the wood-granted they were Condensed Reader's Digests that NO ONE would take from him, but I cringed. Not that I was willing to take home more than a box or two myself.&lt;br /&gt;One thing I greatly miss is the annual slide show-Uncle installed a screen for that purpose on one end of the garage. I could watch that for hours-me in my new Easter dress, me coming home from the hospital in the brand new Studebaker, me playing with my only cousin at that time...I was just soooo sweet. Some silly people got tired of this entertainment. Hey it wasn't my fault that the next birth after me was 3 cousins in rapid succession and things just got too hectic for anyone to film the events...or perhaps my younger cousins and siblings just weren't as photogenic as I. I certainly was a hard act to follow.&lt;br /&gt;Well, I will write more about our Thanksgiving gathering later. Much to do following my little break.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-6082130152461639961?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/6082130152461639961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=6082130152461639961' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/6082130152461639961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/6082130152461639961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2007/11/little-vacation.html' title='let the holidays begin'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-8672403261346222408</id><published>2007-10-22T05:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-22T05:31:53.985-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Projects</title><content type='html'>I have three brothers, every one of them a computer geek. For the past few weekends they have been branching out, doing a remodeling project at The Parents’ house. To be perfectly fair, “the boys” [who range in age from 30 to 42] all have some experience with this kind of project-when we were kids my father used to move a certain wall back and forth in our house at intervals, and we all got to be included in this edifying experience. And more recently, each of them owns and lives in an older house, and fun projects like this are a fairly regular experience.&lt;br /&gt;Now they are passing the torch to the next generation. My sons, 16 and 19, my two oldest nieces, who are 12, my only nephew who recently turned 9, my niece who will soon be 8, and the baby, my 3 year old niece, have all gotten their time in on this project. Of course, the best part was when they got to completely destroy a wall in Grandma’s house.  We sat on the floor and picked up nails and staples for quite some time after that stage, and the 3 year old ran the vacuum for about an hour.&lt;br /&gt;Last Sunday, my boys carried subfloor from the garage to the protected deck. That was fun to watch-especially when they decided that it was quicker to just load a sheet on each of their backs, then they could carry a sheet apiece of the heavy 3/4 inch plywood. My youngest had just come back from a Boy Scout camp-out and was a little punchy, he was staggering a bit just walking around- suddenly he hurtled past the living room window, looking like a large out of control wooden shelled turtle. Well, all the subflooring was moved, with no damage to property or human. But it was sort of like watching my brother lawn surf on the tractor/mower--scary stuff.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-8672403261346222408?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/8672403261346222408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=8672403261346222408' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/8672403261346222408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/8672403261346222408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2007/10/projects.html' title='Projects'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-7542047737158271920</id><published>2007-10-16T07:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-16T07:31:18.608-07:00</updated><title type='text'>trying to figure out the system</title><content type='html'>I am trying to figure out the system. I am posting a second blog today, just to see if I understand what I am doing here. Art mimics life? After all these years of homeschooling, when I started thinking about life after we all grow up, it was just logical to consider entering the field of education. I realized one of my main obstacles was the fact that working 13 years "outside the box" means I have little practical understanding of our educational system. I'll tell more later about my foray into the life of a student-again, in a nonconventional manner-which made me eager to be a professional student.&lt;br /&gt;But if I'm taking up that habit, I'll need to find a way to support it. I found the perfect job for me! I'm working in an afterschool enrichment program, learning about the education system from the inside edges. I get to work with a great bunch of kids, and have finally mastered monkey bars duty. My co-workers seem nice, and are all doing interesting things outside of work hours that I am enjoying learning about. One is working on her Master's degree, another is a journalist, one is a one-on-one aid in the school, a fourth works at a day care center. A couple go to the same college my son is attending.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-7542047737158271920?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/7542047737158271920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=7542047737158271920' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/7542047737158271920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/7542047737158271920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2007/10/trying-to-figure-out-system.html' title='trying to figure out the system'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7611951127559433232.post-8919346382321953986</id><published>2007-10-16T07:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-16T07:12:12.070-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='that is the question'/><title type='text'>what I want to be when I grow up</title><content type='html'>So, for 13 years I have been homeschooling my sons. One morning in August[my eldest's 19th birthday, no less] I woke up to find I was no longer responsible for my elder son's education! Such a shock it was. The good news is, my son is proving himself capable of being responsible for his own education-he is on time to class, assignments are turned in in a timely manner, when he has trouble he talks to his teacher or advisor.&lt;br /&gt;Well, this means it's me and the "little guy" in our home school now. The aforementioned "little guy" is almost 17 and stands at least 7 inches taller than me and is going through his final school work at a great pace...soon I will be all alone. With my husband and the dog and cat, of course. So, this brings up the question in my title...What DO I want to be when I grow up???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7611951127559433232-8919346382321953986?l=edumom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/feeds/8919346382321953986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7611951127559433232&amp;postID=8919346382321953986' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/8919346382321953986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7611951127559433232/posts/default/8919346382321953986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edumom.blogspot.com/2007/10/what-i-want-to-be-when-i-grow-up.html' title='what I want to be when I grow up'/><author><name>edumom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11658395938596235861</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
