While you are sitting comfortably, reading this week’s edition of the Courier, I will be somewhere in the midst of a nine or ten hour car ride home from Walt Disney World listening to my children asking, for the hundredth time, “are we there yet?”

Whether or not Disney is the happiest place on earth certainly depends on who you’re asking. I have amazing childhood memories of traveling to Disney with my family and friends. Living in Miami, Disney was a regular vacation destination (Florida residents do get a discount after all). I also went many times as a young teen – mostly with my church youth group.

As a high school senior, I visited Disney as part of Grad Night. All Florida high school seniors had the opportunity to stay up all night and roam around the park with their classmates and with limited chaperoning.  Could there be anything more exciting for a 17 year old?

My last visit to Disney was in celebration of my honey moon with my now ex-husband. We came in October (there must not have been a Clemson game), and, seasonally speaking, it was probably one of the best times to visit.

When Brian and I decided we were going to travel to Disney for Em and Ella’s spring break, elated cannot being to describe how I felt about the adventure. Memories from my childhood rushed into my head – the exhilaration of Space Mountain, the magic of It’s a Small World, the thrill of Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, the wonder of visiting countries from all over the globe, Figment and that gianormous golf-ball looking object parked right in the epicenter of Epcot.

I’m not quite sure if it is my perfectionism, or if it is a simple case of “things change,” but Disney did not quite live up to my childhood memories or expectations. Don’t get me wrong – being on vacation with my family is fantastic. Having the opportunity to bring the girls to Disney feels amazing. But after only three days here, I am ready for a vacation from my vacation!

The older I become, the less I appreciate crowds. While I love the cultural diversity by which I find myself surrounded, I could make due with a few thousand less people. Trying to snake through the throngs of people, everyone with his or her own destination agenda in mind, holding on to sweaty hands attached to children whining about how hot it is or asking how much longer they are going to have to wait – well, it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Most of the rides I love were terrifying to my children. More than once we stood in a 40 minute line only to exit at the 11^th hour when we should have hopped into the next available amusement vehicle or bypassed amusements altogether.

This trip has made me wonder what the Disney experience was like for my parents. Were they as exhausted at the end of each day as I have been? Or were they able to relax and go with the flow? As a parent, Disney has been a completely different experience for me – one quite different from my childhood.

From the maddening crowds of people, to the patience testing wait times, I wonder how much of the discrepancy between my memories and my current experience exists completely in my mind? I’m certain there are thousands of Disney goers who would say that I am a curmudgeon. Maybe they’re right.     

Rainy Days and Mondays Always Get Me Down

I am so tired of the dark, dreary cold. Seriously. The grey seems to drain every ounce of energy from my body and spirit no matter what attempts I make to counter these feelings. I could easily curl up in fetal position and sob without ceasing.

Of course, I berate myself for feeling this way. Beat myself up and feel guilty. What on earth do I have to complain about?? I can list so many blessings in my life - endless things about which I should be happy. It isn't that I don't appreciate or love my girls, my family, my life ... that they don't bring me happiness. Ever. There are just days when the sadness is so oppressive and over-whelming. All I want it to feel good. To feel normal. Carefree. Yet these feelings seem so elusive to me - like they will forever be outside of my grasp. I hope this isn't true.

Budget Discussions Leave Me Perplexed

I have not posted in forever it seems, but I vow to explain why tomorrow. In the meantime, I cover the School District of Pickens County Board Meetings. I've found that I rather enjoy attending (especially when the debates get heated). Some of you might not apprecaite this post. For others, like my dear friends and educators Kim and Jason, this might hit home! In any event, here is my op-ed for the Courier this week.

Peter Parker (aka Spiderman) understands all too well the profundity of this statement: With great power comes great responsibility. I doubt that even Spiderman himself would want to have to weave his way through the budget nightmare in which the School District of Pickens County finds itself – yet again.

Past votes and decisions are just that – gone, done, yesterday - when all our troubles seemed so far away… The truth is we have big troubles right here and right now. I am not a numbers kind of girl, which is why I am a writer and not an accountant. Numbers to me are as elusive as the fountain of youth appears to be to Joan Rivers.

Still, I am intelligent enough to comprehend that a $5 million budget deficit is tantamount to being up the old proverbial creek without a paddle.

The logical answer seems to be to save money and generate revenue however humanly and legally possible. Mr. Saitta has said on several occasions that every dime adds up. Again, I’m not a numbers kinda guy but I can understand that when I have one dime I have 10 cents and when I have ten dimes I have a dollar. Fairly easy to understand, right?

This, however, is where I get confused. Dan Troutman, a regular speaker at board meetings, suggested that because our state does not mandate that board members receive a salary, and that 31 other districts throughout the state don’t pay their board members, it might be appropriate for the board to give their combined earnings of $18,000 per year back to our classrooms and children.

If we are to believe that every dime adds up, it would seem that 180,000 dimes could certainly be utilized in some manner beneficial to even a few children in Pickens County. No?

At last night’s board meeting, there was an all too lengthy debate over what to do with the four year old teacher laptops that are being replaced. Initially the idea to sell them to interested teachers was floated out there – perhaps prematurely. The more research that went into data wiping costs (which is a legal requirement), the organizational nightmare of keeping track of payments and possible complaints, it became abundantly clear to Mr. Newman (AIT Director) that selling the laptops for parts would bring money back into the district – approximately $130,000 (or 1,300,000 dimes if anyone’s counting).

Both Mr. Trotter and Mr. Saitta argued that it wasn’t fair to make the offer to sell the laptops, only to rescind it once all the facts were in and the district could make more money selling parts than the laptops. Guess what? The students in Pickens County are missing out on educational opportunities in the fields of foreign language, music, art and reading.  That isn’t fair either.

And while I would not presume to speak for the collective teachers in our district, I feel certain that any individual would rather have a job – complete with a salary and insurance benefits – than a four year old lap top that is going to be replaced with a brand spankin’ new one anyway!

I mean no disrespect to the School Board Members. I do not envy the decisions they have to make, but here’s the thing – they do not have to make those decisions in a vacuum. As board chair, Alex Saitta has implemented committees systems so that the skill sets of the individual board members are matched with similar committee – i.e. it makes sense to have a teacher, not a financial genius, head up a curriculum committee. This is a fantastic idea founded on the logic of building on people’s strengths and talents. However, after last night’s meeting, I am, once again, perplexed.

Board members sat before a packed house of SDPC Principals – the men and women on the front line in our schools. These men and women spend countless hours talking with their support staff, teachers, parents and students. Their combined skill set is the knowledge of what goes on in their schools day in and day out. Yet one after another, school board members candidly stated that they would vote against budget balancing solutions offered up by the principals in our district.

Alex Saitta has said that “Voters elect their board members to represent them, and that means they (the board members) have to listen to their constituents.” Principals and teachers in the district are also voting constituents. Last night their voices rang loud and clear, but it did not seem like many board members were willing to listen.   

  

My Mug of Love Runneth Over

Menopausal Symptoms.
My doctor said I should keep a log.
Insomnia?
Insomnia.
Check. Moving on .....

Yesterday morning, my wonderfully thoughtful mother brought me a cup of coffee in bed. Post-op and Brian out in Portland, I am bunking with her. Sometimes, no matter how grown up a person might be - I still want and need my Mommy. And I thank God I have her!


I love coffee. I love my mother. I love sharing coffee in the morning with my mother. No one else in my house shares the same joyous experience produced by simply holding a warm cup of love in one's hands. Coffee has been a part of my morning routine since I was 15 or 16. Like cigarettes, coffee was "cool" and "adult." In my the-world-is-the-size-of-a-pea teenage logic, in some sense it was non-conformist and Kerouacian. My mom and I are the only ones in our house who drink coffee. Frankly, I don't understand people who are non-coffee drinkers. I am starting to wonder if they are really aliens from some sad coffee-less plant inhabiting the earth so they can figure out how to perfect some other-worldly super coffee bean. To just not like coffee - well that is just plain bizarre.


My love affair with coffee has grown ever more torrid over the years. In the beginning I tolerated coffee and hoped that it was merely an acquired taste. For years I would only drink it if each cup was wantonly sweet. After Brian's cousin, Karen [one of the most amazing, mother-earth, deeply soulful spirits of a woman I know] came to help take care of me and Ella (and our whole family, now that I think about it), I cannot drink anything less than industrial strength, high octane, it puts hair on your chest and curls the hairs you already have coffee. I prefer mine with approximately two teaspoons of creamer. MMmmmm....creamy warm mug of love!


So, yesterday I woke up to the gift of coffee in bed and listening to my Mom trying to rouse the dynamic duo and get them dressed for school. Once I can get upright and catch my breath (Yes. It still hurts like hell to get out of bed), I wander in there to help out as much as I can. Dressed and ready to go, Em and Gma head downstairs for breakfast, and I am upstairs with wardrobe crisis Ella. After several attempts, she pulls on the perfect shirt for a February, but it is going to be warm later, Tuesday in Kindergarten.


Much to her dismay, I can't carry her downstairs. I remind her that Mommy just had surgery on and in her tummy. Doctor says I can't carry anything for a while - not even my favorite little monkey girl Ella. With her blanket over one shoulder and my mug of love in hand, we head down the stairs. Ever the inquisitive child, Ella wants to understand why I can carry some things and not others. I think it is so cool to watch the wheels turning in there as she categorizes things by weight and mass - heaviness and lightness - all that super neat science stuff that my husband reminds me I could have paid attention to while I was in school.


Ella points out that I have a cup of coffee in my hand. Smart ass that I am, I playfully tell her that Mommy's doctors know how much I love coffee and that I have to drink it in the morning, so I have special permission to carry it around as long as I don't pick a too heavy cup. I don't know that she totally gets my humor, but Ella certainly understands - to borrow a term of endearment from Junie B. Jones - that her Mommy is a nutball.


Fast Forward to 6pm yesterday evening .....


Emerson wanted to make her own cup of chocolate milk. Sometime in the process of making the chocolate milk and hugging Daddy Allen, the cat coffee cup (thankfully not one of my favorites) crashed onto the tile floor cascading chocolate, milk and cermaic cats everywhere. Tears dried (there is no sense crying over spilt milk after all) and mess cleaned, life as I know it goes on. About five minutes later, Ella starts dragging a chair across the kitchen floor so she can reach something in the cabinet.


"Can I help you?" I ask. "What do you need?"
"A cup," she answers.
"Are you thirsty?" I ask. "Do you want Mommy to get you something to drink before you climb up the cabinet like a monkey and fall and crack your head open?"
"I need a cup," she implores. "I need to make something."
"How about one of these cups?" You can't see me, but I am pointing to a disposable, plastic Solo cup on the counter.
"No. I need a mug kind of cup." I can feel her impatience with my questions.
Gma enters stage left and assesses the situation. Ella whispers something in my Mom's ear that makes her say "We've got it under control."
I walk back over to the kitchen table where I had been looking over the girls' daily school work and filling out forms for them to order some books - autographed by the local author - at school. Ella and Gma depart the kitchen, hang a left into the craft room - where I can hear them scratching around like little mice - and then they head back into the family room. Those two are up to something. Again. 


My suspicions are confirmed when I walk into the family room and Ella dives on top of the covert operation she has set up on the rug by the coffee table. I assure her that I am not looking and prove my point by sitting down at the computer and looking up the SDPC website. Em and Ella have racked up considerable milk balances at the cafeteria and we are starting to get those recorded messages that threaten broken knee caps if the $2.50 balance is not satisfied.


Finally, Ella announces that I can close my eyes because she has a surprise for me. I follow her directions and sit, eyes closed, eager with anticipation.
"Open your eyes Mommy," says Ella, beaming with a huge smile and those big brown eyes of hers. "I made you a special mug since your cat one got broken."


And she had.

Gma had helped her find one of the plastic mugs she and Em use to drink their morning milk. Using glue dots out of the craft room, she adorned the bottom with a band of irridescent pink ribbon and multi-colored buttons (Ella loves buttons and will glue them on practically anything that stands still). On one side of the cup she glue a paper heart cut of pink cardstock all by herself and decorated with red heart stickers left over from the valentines she and Em took into their classmates. On the other side of the cup, Ella glued on individual flower petals from a white rose that had been in an arrangement Nyda brought me while I was in the hospital. "This rose was looking kind of woggily," Ella explained. "So I recycled it Mommy."

"Ella.....it's beautiful!" I said. "I love it! Thank you, Ella B. You are such a sweet pea girl."

"It's a love mug Mommy," she said. "Because you love coffee and I love you and your cat cup got broken."

"I love you too, Ella B." And I pursed my lips and she squated down and gave me a kiss. "I will drink my coffee in it tomorrow."

As I sit here this morning, writing, I am enjoying a delightfully creamy, warm cup of coffee love, in my mug of love, crafted, by Ella, with love, for her Mommy who loves her and her sister so very, very much! I am thankful that in my life, as I know it, my mug of love runneth over.