Affair-Proof

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Whenever I stumble across the words “affair-proof,” my mind responds like the Incredible Hulk — raging and ready to rip. Now, don’t get me wrong, I wish I could find solace in those words and place my faith in their sanctity.

But I can’t.

Because there is no such thing as an affair-proof relationship.

It simply doesn’t exist. And pretending that it does only causes additional pain and heartbreak.

Implied in those words is the understanding that if an affair occurs, the betrayed obviously did not perform his or her duties effectively to affair-proof the marriage. It places the blame for the infidelity squarely on the shoulders on the one who was cheated upon. Read the rest here.

When You Remove a Negative

Posted on by stilllearning2b

One of the more difficult concepts for middle school students to master is integers. Specifically, adding and subtracting integers. Even when the concept is introduced with concrete and tangible examples, the students still struggle with the often counterintuitive nature of negative numbers.

You see, in elementary school, they are taught that addition always results in more and subtraction, less. But once those numbers become negative, the results are often reversed.

One of the ways I help them remember the rules for adding and subtracting integers in by relating it to relationships:

When a good person comes into your life, it improves the value.

When a good person leaves your life, it reduces the value.

When a bad person comes into your life, it reduces the value.

And the one they have the hardest time understanding…

When a bad person leaves your life, it increases the value.

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The Words I Hate to Hear

Posted on by stilllearning2b

There are two words that I hate to hear more than anything else:

“I can’t.”

I hear them in the classroom. I read them on Facebook or on my Twitter feed. I hear them from coaching clients.

And I even hear them from myself.

And every time I hear those words, I see someone limiting themselves.

Defeating themselves.

 

“I can’t” doesn’t keep you safe.

It means means you’re afraid to try.

“I can’t” doesn’t mean you are not able.

It means you are uncomfortable.

“I can’t” doesn’t make you happy.

It keeps you from happy.

 

“I can’t” is often a knee jerk reaction. A plea to keep the status quo and resist change.

We become adept at shoring up our “I can’ts” with excuses disguised as reasons.

It’s a shield.

A security blanket.

A delaying tactic.

That only serves to hold us back.

 

The biggest lie we tell ourselves is “I can’t.”

Stop lying.

You can.

 

The Impersonator

Posted on by stilllearning2b

With the advent of the warm weather, Brock and I have taken to practically living on the porch. The house is surrounded by mature trees and shrubs, which provide food and shelter for numerous birds. And squirrels. Always squirrels.

We enjoy sitting with our beverages and watching the live Nat Geo production unfold around us. Several weeks ago, Tiger became interested in the drama, taking an unusual obsession with one corner of the deck where a small tree has wrestled its way through the concrete that surrounds the driveway. We noticed that a blue jay seemed to take special interest in the beast around the same time, often protesting the dog’s presence with loud squawks while practicing an aerial routine fit for the Blue Angels.

During one of these early episodes of bird vs. pit bull, I heard the unmistakable screech of a hawk from high up in a maple that towered above us. I scanned the branches, looking for the large bird that was sounding the warning.

“Look. There it is! It’s a blue jay!” exclaimed Brock, pointing to a much smaller bird than expected whose beak was indeed moving in concert with the avian screams.

I had to chuckle. When the warnings of the blue jay weren’t enough to frighten Tiger, the clever bird decided to impersonate a much larger hunter.

Tiger, being a confident sort of dog, was unimpressed.

But I was.

I had fallen for the ruse, believed that the cry came from a hawk on the hunt rather than its songbird cousin.

It led me to contemplate all of the impostors I have encountered in my own life, from my ex husband pretending to be loving to an innocent basement impersonating a dragon’s lair. I had fallen more than once for the mask, not looking to see what was really hidden in the depths.

Mimicry is ubiquitous in the animal kingdom.

And it’s important to remember that we are members of that kingdom as well.

Things are not always as seem.

Take the time to look. To listen.

Be more like Tiger who approached without assumptions and let his other senses connect the dots to conclude that there was no threat (not that he would find a hawk all that frightening either!).

And less like a human, leading with the ego of experience and expectations.

 

And I’m happy to report our little deck-side drama has a happy ending. A little searching that day revealed a nest buried down in the small tree next to the deck. Inside the nest were three newly hatched blue jays, blindly looking for their next meal. We trained Tiger to avoid the area for the next several weeks as we watched the young birds grow and eventually leave the safety of their nest.

And we haven’t heard the screech of the false hawk since; the need for the mask has past.

photo-20

 

Dependable

Posted on by stilllearning2b

My husband made me cry today.

Yeah, I know. He didn’t really “make me” cry. I have the choice in how I respond, blah, blah, blah.

Because the way I see it today is that his actions could have led to no other response.

 

Let me explain and let’s see if you agree.

Today was Lisa Arends’ terrible, horrible, no good very bad day.

It started on my early morning commute to work. I was a couple miles from the house this morning when my “check engine” light came on and the car started feeling funny. I immediately pulled into a parking lot and shut off the engine even as I dialed my husband on my cell.

I’ve been playing a bit of Russian Roulette with this car for the past few years. I bought it new 15 years ago. Yeah, 15. When I bought it, I wasn’t even married the first time yet. Hell, I was barely of legal drinking age. For the most part, it has been dependable, but it’s of an age where a fatal incident may come at any time.

But I’m not ready yet. I’m still about 9 months away from cleaning up the rest of the financial mess that my lovely ex left for me and, until that is done, I don’t have the extra cash on hand for a car payment. Plus, I also still have his parting gift of bad credit to deal with. So, needless to say, that glaring red light on my dash this morning felt like the eye of Smaug before I was to be stricken from this earth.

I felt horrible waking up my husband, still recovering from surgery, but I had to get to work to handle the yearbook distribution. Without a grumble, he picked me up, ferried me to school, contacted his mechanic friend and waiting with my car until AAA showed up with a tow truck.

But I wasn’t crying yet.

The yearbooks went okay. Everything else? Not so much.

The graphing calculators, instrumental for the today’s lesson, must have been visited by some vampire version of the Energizer Bunny last night, as all of their batteries decided to drain en masse. And the school’s stock of AAA (not the auto company!) batteries in the last week of school? Let’s just say weak.

I managed to beg, borrow and steal enough batteries to cobble together the lesson. So far, so….okay. But then one of the critical websites disappeared. Not okay. I scrambled to find a work around while my kids (did I mention last week of school) got ever nuttier. The day was capped off by one of my students telling me he hated me and hated my class. If you’ve ever thought being around middle schoolers all day is sunshine and roses, you may need to take a Saturday trip to mall. And then try to make the random teenagers do math.

A coworker was driving me home where I was supposed to go with my husband to pick up the car. On the way, I received a text, “Will you grab my wallet out of the driver’s side door of my car on your way in?”

“Sure,” I responded.

Minutes later, I struggled to locate his wallet with my purse strangling me and my suitcase-sized lunch bag (no joke) bumping into my car behind me.

My car!?!

I’m embarrassed to admit it took me a few moments (a few meaning several here) to notice that my car was in the garage. I blame emotional exhaustion.

I bolted upstairs.

“What, why, how…?”

“I took care of it.”

He then referenced an old conversation. He used to ride motorcycles back when we met. He sold his bike when he decided it was too risky. Ever since, he’s been talking about getting a Corvette in its place at some point in the near future. I expressed some reservations, mainly arising from my own fears. I worried that if a Corvette was in the picture and my car suffered a premature death, that I would be in a bind. He assured me during that conversation that he had my back.

“Do you remember when we talked about the Corvette and I said I had your back with your car?”

“Yes.”

“Today I showed it.”

 

The cost.

The stress of dealing with it.

The uncertainty of work while being carless.

All done.

Taken care of.

See. How could I not cry?

In most ways, I trust him easily now. But when it comes to money and my basic needs (like a car), it’s harder for me to be dependent on someone else.

I depended before, and I was horribly burned.

But that was then, and this is now.

And after today, when he says, “I’ve got your back,” I’ll trust him to catch me if I fall.

Just as the tears are falling now.

 

And, yeah, he IS a keeper!