November 16, 2009
Bye Bye Bonsai
When Mr. BBM got me a small bonsai tree for Mother's Day a couple years ago, I had mixed feelings about it. Although a thoughtful gift for a martial artist and Karate Kid fan, I couldn't help but feel like I had one more thing I had to take care of. Taking care of everyone and everything all the time is exhausting.
I read the two pages of instructions, gave strict orders that no one touch it except for me and the bonsai and I became friends. Before long, it was thriving and I had to do some pruning. I did it with butterflies in my stomach, so afraid to hurt the thing, but it did fine and survived. I figured I had overestimated how sensitive it was, but I found out that I was wrong.
My bonsai has gone from being a thriving little plant to a nightmare. Leaves started falling off, first one by one, and then non-stop. I accused Mr. BBM of watering it, but he swore he didn't touch it. The bonsai only gets watered once a week. Last week, when it felt hopeless, I scoured the web for advice on bringing it back to its former grandeur.
So I went to work, carefully prying the plant from its pot so I could examine the roots. I cut back the ones that were no longer white, sat the soil on paper towels to let it soak up any excess moisture and then returned it to its pot with hopes that it would recover.
Today it dropped another grouping of leaves and it's looking more hopeless than ever.
I've lost plants before. Although I've definitely become more of a green thumb over the years, by self-teaching myself how to not blow all our landscaping investment, I know that I've had problems with indoor plants in the past. I even thought that maybe the bonsai didn't like my new little basil plant so I moved it away from the bonsai to give it some space.
Still, nothing has worked.
I've had no trouble tossing out plants in the past, but this one bothers me. Maybe it's because I'm seeing a parallel between it and me and my knee.
Despite surgery and careful care afterwards, my knee has been awful lately. It's bruised again and sore and I've been avoiding karate because my brace hurts where the bruising is and kneeling is next to impossible for me. Despite "surgery" and careful care of my plant, it's not thriving. It doesn't look nice or exotic anymore. It just looks sad, kind of like my knee.
I want my bonsai to survive and I want my knee to be completely healed, but wanting something and reality are often quite different. I'm frustrated with my bonsai tree, and I'm frustrated with my knee.
Right now, both are on a downward spiral that I'm not quite sure how to fix. And if there's one thing I can't stand, it's not having control over things that I want.
November 13, 2009
From Nothing to an Officer in One Afternoon
On Sunday, while enjoying the wedding reception and hanging out with my karate people, I noticed I had a voice mail. I went outside for a minute and heard my neighbor's message. This particular neighbor is a jokester. He's always up to something. In fact, even when he's not up to something, his smile makes you think otherwise. The message I heard cracked me up.
My neighbor was congratulating me on my being elected to the board. He then went on to say that I had also been elected as an officer, secretary. I walked back into the reception laughing out loud. I told Mr. BBM and he laughed too. Then he said, "maybe you were elected secretary." I told him it wasn't possible; I wasn't even there. I had left the meeting immediately after voting to get to my friend's wedding reception.
I sent a text message to my neighbor's wife and told him I was calling his bluff. Nice try and all that, but I wasn't buying it. For hours afterward, my neighbor was insistent that he was telling the truth. I still didn't believe it.
The next day I got a call from one of the board members, and guess what? I'm the secretary. I don't know how I'm supposed to raise hell and shake things up when I have to be the one writing everything down, but I'll find a way.
I will find a way.
November 12, 2009
There’s Always One
It happens every semester so I should expect it, but it doesn't bother me any less when it does happen. Today, one of my student's sealed his fate. He skipped his speech after I had already given him special permission to give it late. Students must complete all speeches in order to pass the class. He was already in trouble.
On Tuesday, he stood up for a story-telling activity with another girl in class and told his story, of being coddled in high school and doing well and then coming to college, drinking too much and "smoking too much pot." During his impromptu story, he talked of a teacher who tried to get him back on track (that would be me), and although I've been able to see those kids through and help them on some occasions, this time it's too late, and I am so disappointed.
I don't know why I allow the one kid in class like this to bother me so much, but they always do. It is such an amazing thing to be able to help a student through a rough patch and get back on the right track. I did it when I taught high school and I did it last year at the college level too. I just think some kids aren't ready to be "reached" yet. He's clearly one of them.
These university students share so much information with me that they're not sharing with their parents. I had one student write about her rape, something she's kept from her parents for years. I've had others talk about their drug and alcohol use and abuse, and it's heartbreaking and frustrating. It's not high school. There's no guidance counselor to enlist to help. I've contacted advisors from time to time, but when all is said and done, there is little I can do beyond what I'm already doing, listening, being available, and offering to help whenever I can.
In just three weeks, the semester will be wrapping up, and as of January, I'll have a new group of students. I'm sure there will be at least one that does this to me yet again.
November 9, 2009
When Heels and Nylons Save the Day
Yesterday was the election for the board of directors at my country club, which is actually more like a swimming club that happens to have a clubhouse. There were five available positions and nine candidates. Some of the candidates running for election have been members of the club longer than I've been alive. I figured my chances were slim to none. The only other time I ran for office was during one of my high school years. I ran for a class officer position and lost. I was humiliated and destroyed from that loss. I was expecting the same feeling at the country club elections.
At the country club, there are two factions if you will. There are the very much older people who go for the inside stuff and there are the families who join for the pool and show up at the clubhouse primarily for wing night and "beef and beer" night. The younger people get upset because although we make up the majority of the club, the minority rule. Although I can't speak about all of them, there are a great many of the older faction that are mean about it too.
The younger people get resentful that although we are the majority, we're ruled by people we deem "out of touch." Yesterday at the meeting, a younger mom suggested that the club sponsor some kid friendly bus trips to local amusement parks, zoos, etc. in addition to the Ladies Auxiliary sponsored bus trips to the casinos at 12 noon on a Tuesday which obviously don't work for younger women and you know, teaching our kids to gamble at young ages probably isn't a good idea. The poor woman's suggestion was met with so much disgust, and then she was told she had to join the Ladies Auxiliary if she wants to make suggestions like that.
The Ladies Auxiliary meets on Friday nights. They have keyboard entertainment, coffee and desserts and then plan bus trips and singles dances that happen at 12 noon on a Sunday. I'm not saying they don't do some good for the club; but it's not exactly an environment friendly to younger women.
Because Mr. BBM and I had a wedding to go to immediately after the meeting (actually during, but we'll ignore that), we were very dressed up. I wore a black dress with a wrap sweater and shiny black heels. I felt extremely over-dressed, but Mr. BBM didn't think so. When I looked around the room at the two factions of people, the older people were dressed up. I'm talking skirts, sweaters and blazers people. Many of the men wore suits.
When the candidates were introduced, I stood up there and looked around. The younger people smiled at me and probably wondered why I had dressed up so much; they probably weren't, but I felt as if the older people were trying to kill me with evil glares.
Then we voted and an older lady walked right by our row of people and didn't give us ballots. Then someone cried foul and said that only 170-some people had signed in but they had to make extra copies of ballots. So, they collected all the ballots, made a new one from scratch, ran fresh copies and we all had to vote again AND hand our ballot directly to the collection people. It was insane. It felt like a crazy episode of "The Office" or something and it took forever.
Other highlights include my friend sitting behind me who declared she was going to take her shirt off because it was seriously about 105 degrees in the place. Also, a young guy wearing a baseball hat stood up and said something and the old people started SCREAMING at him to "have some respect" and "take off your hat." A couple times, friends of mine leaned over to me and asked me if I was sure I wanted to do this. Another friend told me I should run. Yet another person told me not to get my hopes up. Our faction seemed to be outnumbered.
I voted and left before hearing the results. I had already been there two hours and was really late to my wedding and reception. On the way out the door, an older couple was standing there. The woman looked at me and said, "You're what this club needs on the board. Young blood." She grinned ear to ear and told me she hoped I got elected. Her husband gave me some well wishes too. Mr. BBM told me that thanks to dressing up for the wedding, he thought I had a fighting chance. The older people would appreciate the fact that I had worn a dress and nylons.
About 15 minutes in to the drive, my neighbor called my cell phone. I believe her words were "Oh my God! You Won! You Won!" and then the other text messages of congratulations started rolling in as well. So, I'm now a board member and there is a lot of work to be done. First order of business will be getting them to turn the damn heat down to save some money and keep people from taking their shirts off. Second order of business, figuring out a way to get the two very divided factions to peacefully co-exist, while making the inside a more desirable place to frequent for families.
Clearly, I've got my work cut out for me.
November 5, 2009
Flu, Pneumonia, Allergic Reactions and More Fun
I usually turn my cell phone off when I'm on campus. Either that, or if I forget and it rings, I hit ignore and continue teaching. This morning, my phone rang between my classes and my gut told me to answer it.
Last night, at a doctor's appointment for Big I, I noticed that Lil C felt warm again. After running a fever for three days and then not having one, I asked the doctor to check her and when I told her that Lil C's primary complaint was that her back hurt, she looked concerned.
Immediately, she slid her stool across the room and listened to Lil C's chest. I knew there was something wrong when she continued to listen and listen without saying anything.
The diagnosis: pneumonia, a complication of H1N1. Allergic to so many drugs, the doctor prescribed a strong one that she hadn't had before. She told me that if this didn't work, if she got worse, or if she still had a fever in 48 hours, that she'd have to go to the hospital for IV antibiotics.
This is not what you would expect to hear when you think your kid just has a cough that you thought was getting better. I was so relieved that I had made the appointment for Big I (who has the ear infection that won't quit and is now on a second round of antibiotics), and even more glad that I spoke up and asked the doctor to look at Lil C.
It took three pharmacies before we found Lil C's antibiotic. I was a nervous wreck last night, listening to her cough, so much so that I moved her into my bed so I could keep a close eye on her. I barely slept the entire night.
This morning, I was expecting her to be better. She was sleeping when I left for work, but my Mom who happens to be a nurse and Mr. BBM were here to keep an eye on her.
I answered my phone as my students started taking their seats and it was Mr. BBM. He told me he was rushing Lil C to the doctor because she was having an allergic reaction to her antibiotic. She was getting huge hives on her body, one was about three inches by three inches on her leg. I told him I was canceling my class and that I'd be there soon.
When I turned around to tell my students, instead of being happy that class was over for the day before it even started, they looked concerned. As I gathered my stuff and ran out of the room, they yelled well wishes at me and told me they hoped things would be ok. Many of my students were staying to work on their group speeches even though I was leaving. They are such a great group of kids.
One of my adult students, an ER nurse at the local hospital, followed me out and gave me her cell phone number. She told me to call if we had to go to the hospital so she could streamline us and get us right in. She has two daughters too, one who was in the ER for the very same reason just two weeks ago.
I have never been behind such slow, stupid drivers in my life. I'm not sure exactly how I got to the doctor's office. All I know is that it took entirely too long.
When I got to the office, my Mom was waiting outside for me. She said Lil C had already been taken back. The receptionist took me to the room as they were coming out. I was sure we were heading to the hospital. Instead, they're trying a different oral antibiotic in a super dose and a breathing medication because today, they heard some wheezing as well as the crackling from last night.
This is the third time this child has had an allergic reaction to an antibiotic. Clearly, she thinks I need some gray hair or something. Although she already seems a little better, I am keeping a very close eye on her. If at any moment, I think she's getting worse, I am taking her to the hospital. I am just praying we don't get to that point. I hope you'll join me.
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