tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67136919410724988942024-03-12T21:48:21.095-07:00Christina's Blogchristina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.comBlogger90125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-32423779822809158392012-12-20T04:23:00.002-08:002012-12-25T16:48:24.075-08:00Some Thoughts...<br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">After the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School, the community of elementary school teachers was shaken up across the country. It was interesting, because no one asked "Would I have died for my kids?" We didn't need to, because all of us knew that of course we would. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I was student teaching when the shootings at Columbine occurred. I remember my sadness and sudden knowledge that this job was going to be different from what previous teachers had experienced.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Because that's what we do. We teach, and love, and hug, and adore these kids. And pray constantly that the world will be kind just a little longer. That all those bad experiences will stay away for just one more day: the bullies, the bad grades, the bad friends, the bad school lunches. Everything, big and small. We wish them happy recesses full of friends and games. Math they understand. Pizza for lunch everyday. Of course we know this can't happen. But we dream. And then try to teach them to cope with the ugly parts of the world. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And now every teacher also prays that the bad guys will stay out and the locks will hold. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Many people have expressed similar concerns followed by the statement "wouldn't you feel safer if you had a gun in your room?"</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">No. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I recently had a student with oppositional defiant disorder. They had threatened their parents with weapons. It was all I could do that year to keep that child calm. They stole from my desk and went through my closets daily. The last thing I would have wanted in my classroom is a gun. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I'm not against people owning guns. But think about this. You as a parent have put safety measures in place so that your children aren't harmed: gun locks, gun safes, separate storage for ammunition. You have probably even educated your children on your gun rules. How can you trust something that important to a stranger like me? We're not talking about multiplication tables. These are life and death rules. The minute a gun is at school with a teacher there needs to be ground rules. Do you trust they will be the same as yours? Better even? I work in public education. I don't. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I don't want a gun in my class. I want pencils and crayons and glue and math books. I want music. I want hugs and hand drawn pictures. I will protect my students. From every little hurt that I can. But I won't be keeping a gun in class. </span>christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-38640712213679706272012-08-08T23:08:00.001-07:002012-08-08T23:08:09.279-07:00Back to SchoolMy last entry was a little more introspective than I usually am...at least out loud. And I've noticed a lot of parents complaining about the back to school hassle. So, to lighten things up, I give you my back to school experience this year. It involves new carpet, new plumbing, and asbestos. Yup. It's gonna be that kind of an August.<br />
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In June, the district told us they would be fixing our plumbing. Almost immediately they discovered asbestos which shut the entire school down until this week. Health and safety required that all fabrics in the room be thrown out. So, good news! I have new carpet! But because every silver lining has a cloud, that means all the cleaning I did at the end of May was undone by a bunch of construction workers going through every closet and cupboard. My beautifully arranged classroom is now a heap of furniture in the middle of the room. (Everything has to be 3 feet from the walls while they work on replacing baseboards.)<br />
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By the way, I now have one extra file cabinet and two office chairs. Takers? Anyone?<br />
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And all those big strong workers and their hand truck, that moved my file cabinets in minutes? Busy. Doing silly things like making sure the school can open in 3 weeks.<br />
<br />
So my job tomorrow is to move/find the following:<br />
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My desk<br />
30 student desks and chairs<br />
My computer (and please, please, please let all the cords be there)<br />
Two full file cabinets<br />
Four book cases and all their books<br />
My sanity.<br />
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Maybe expecting sanity is too much. I should hope all the surge protectors are there and call it a victory.<br />
<br />christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-69722764951011895842012-08-06T01:31:00.001-07:002012-08-06T01:31:36.159-07:00Two years later...I admire people who blog regularly. People who record their weight loss or videos of their kids. I have neither of those things to post. And my life has been fairly boring since my last post. I teach, I read, in between I watch Doctor Who and daydream.<br />
<br />
But today was a difficult day. And I found myself alone with my thoughts and I was in tears. The people around me wanted to help but it's difficult for them. And I didn't have the words. Today <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">was hard. Today, I felt rejection and with that, I began questioning my worth. </span><br />
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As a single in the Mormon church you're constantly surrounded by the message to "get married!!!" When you're my age the message changes to "what's wrong with you? why aren't you married?". And I have always wanted a family. Lots of children. A fun, warm home, like I had. So, it's an old and painful wound, the fact that I don't have a family of my own.<br />
Usually, I work my way day to day and ignore both questions. They are usually<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);"> asked by people who were married very young and never experienced dating after college. They don't realize that at 38 you ask yourself "what's wrong with me?" every day, Every time your date doesn't call back. Every time you check your LDSSingles account. You ask those questions. </span></span><br />
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Today I was asking myself these questions more than usual because I really liked the guy who didn't call back. It's been three weeks and hope dies a slow painful death. You can't help but ask, why? What's wrong with me?<br />
You start looking at your weight, the grey in your hair, the laughlines around your eyes, the sound of your voice, the sound of your laugh. You start second guessing every word you said. It's human nature I guess. We always think the fault lies in ourselves. I never once thought, what's wrong with him that he didn't see how fantastic I am? Isn't that a better question?<br />
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But, after a good cry and a long conversation with my Father in Heaven, I realized something. This is not how Heavenly Father wants me to live. Yes, families are important. Families are forever. But, I can't worry about that at the expense of my of self worth. I'm a good person who deserves good things. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">Being single in the LDS church can be painful. But you need to </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">learn to celebrate the family you do have, your sisters and brothers and parents and cousins, rather than mourn the one you don't have. It's a matter of keeping the glass half full. More than half full because I have a fantastic and large and loving family. </span></span></span><br />
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So, I'm going to focus on the positive. Yes, I have grey in my hair. That's my cue to go a little more ginger. I have laugh lines and worry lines. I would be afraid of any teacher who didn't have them. I am a beautiful person. I may never marry but I refuse to let myself feel less than I am because of it.<br />
I will remember who I am. I'm a child of God.<br />
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The question is, what's wrong with them?christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-15581986954964336472010-02-08T15:41:00.000-08:002010-02-08T16:02:18.608-08:00My Hero!Some girls dream of vampires. I dream of Kryptonians.<br /><br />I am a Superman geek. I admit it. I love Superman. Anyway you slice it, the man is hot. <br /><br />I used to wonder what the heck was wrong with Lois Lane, not seeing the total awesome-ness of Clark Kent. I would dream of finding someone just like him. Tall, dark, handsome, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound . . .<br /><br />And he's the strong silent type . . . he'll listen to a good rant, but willing to jump into action the moment I yell "Help, Superman!"<br /><br />I've been waiting and waiting. Everyone tells me I'm dreaming. They say my expectations are too high, that there are no fairy tales. They tell me it's all fiction.<br /><br />But he's out there. I know he is. My superhero is waiting.<br /><br />Or maybe it's just Monday. I generally don't need saving on Tuesday. <br /><br />Really, it could go either way.christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-56373466131779605772010-02-05T11:55:00.000-08:002010-02-05T12:05:40.319-08:00My MomWe have decided to lock my mom in the house. Maybe forever.<br /><br />On January 24th, I got a call from Sharlon. (Sharlon has been my best friend since 3rd grade and she and her family live in mom's ward. They are a big help in keeping an eye on her. My mom is 69, but likes to think she's 30.) Sharlon called me around 8:30 saying that she'd found mom laying on the sidewalk outside of church. <br /><br />NEVER start a conversation with, "We found your mom on the sidewalk and I think you should get down here."<br /><br />Turns out mom was fine but she had fallen and cut her hand pretty badly and her fingers were looking broken. I have 1:00 church so I wasn't even out of bed yet. I talked to mom, called Erin and we both raced to Rosepark. Thank heaven's for mom's ward. They gave mom a blessing and got us there and made mom sit still. She wanted to go to church.<br /><br />We took her to the emergency room where they figured out the cut on her finger was to the bone (yikes!) and the pinky and ring finger on her right hand were dislocated and the tendons were torn (ouch!) and there was a scratch on her right eye. Which was black with some nasty broken blood vessels. <br /><br />She looked like she'd been in a bar fight.<br /><br />After hours of waiting, we took her home with her right arm splinted up to her elbow and a prescription for Lortab. <br /><br />It was on November 24th that mom had a pacemaker put in. <br /><br />So maybe we'll let her out, but not on the 24th of the month.<br /><br />Mom's fine. She's got her splint off and is now looking forward to cataract surgery this summer.christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-79837452901537895742009-12-11T04:49:00.000-08:002009-12-11T05:22:18.091-08:00I liedRemember when I said I would post every Monday?<br />Remember when I said not to believe a word I said?<br /><br />There are five days of school until Christmas break and I so need a break. And all you full time workers can be quiet. You're just jealous and that's never pretty. I am speaking specifically to Autumn here.<br /><br />A lot of teachers are saying how it feels like we just had Thanksgiving break, where does the time go, etc.<br /><br />I didn't get a break over Thanksgiving. I didn't get a Thanksgiving. And I am grateful.<br /><br /><div>The week before, Mom went into the doctor where they discovered her heart was only beating 40 times a minute. It is appropriate to say yikes. </div><div> </div><div>On the Monday and Tuesday before Thanksgiving, I had parent teacher conferences which went to about 7:00 each night. So I couldn't help Erin out when she took Mom to the doctor's office.</div><div> </div><div>So while I was teaching and conferencing Monday and Tuesday, Erin took Mom back to the doctor, and then to a cardiologist. After I was finished Tuesday I was greeted with the news that Mom needed a pace maker. Now. As in, Wednesday. </div><br /><br />I had seizures Wednesday. This was not planned.<br /><br />So Erin took Mom in for surgery, and I stayed home and watched North and South: Book One and let my brain do its thing. When I was done and Mom was out, Erin came and got me and we went to the hospital, where I fell asleep in the chair. <br /><br />We brought Mom home on Thanksgiving. Erin went to be with her family for the first time that week and I stayed with Mom. We two sickies watched movies and slept. Our turkey dinner was microwaved chicken nuggets and we didn't care. Kathi and Ron and the kids brought real turkey and lots of pie later anyway.<br /><br />Friday, we put up Mom's Christmas decorations so we wouldn't have to worry about it.<br /><br />Saturday, I finally went shopping. All day. But it's done.<br /><br />Sunday, Erin's husband Rob got sick so I stayed home from church and babysat while Erin took care of her family's health. The kids wanted to decorate for Christmas again (because it was so much fun at Mom's) so we put up our Christmas tree. It still looks like a 4 year old and a 7 year old decorated it.<br /><br />Sunday night, we went to the Messiah sing-in at Abravenel Hall, and finally, finally some peace. Mom couldn't make it, so we took my dear friend, Sharlon, who had never been and kicked my butt on some of those songs.<br /><br />The Messiah is powerful and singing it with the audience in Abravenel Hall was awesome, and over powering, and enriching. As always it brings in the Christmas spirit. <br /><br />Mom is doing so well now that the cardiologist is talking about exercise plans. Before the surgery she couldn't answer the door without running out of breath. Erin said that all she needs are two new knees and she'll be like a 20 year old again. Her color is better, she is happier. I am very thankful for all the doctors and nurses who took care of her. I'm also thankful for Erin who did all the heavy lifting that week.<br /><br />But, while I am thankful for everything that happened over Thanksgiving, except maybe the seizures, I need a break.christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-83992575297578592192009-10-31T16:12:00.000-07:002009-10-31T16:26:01.341-07:00I'm Not DeadSo It's been many, many, MANY weeks since I last blogged. Sorry. A little thing called life interrupted my life. I promise to try and blog once a week. I assure I have been ignoring all my friends on facebook as well. <br /><br />I've had so many things to blog about . . . totally useless and unimportant stuff, but still, it made me laugh at the time.<br /><br />Like last Saturday, when I cleaned my room. First of all, "cleaned" is being used very loosely here. I picked stuff up, I put my overflowing laundry basket in my closet and shut the door. It looked better after I hid some stuff. But what I discovered id I have way too many books.<br /><br />I, like many people have a constant pile of books I'm getting to. the bookstore is my refuge from stress. In recent weeks We've had mid terms at school, not to mention the lead up to Halloween. Plus we had UEA weekend. Of course I went to the bookstore. I think I sent the Barnes and Noble families to college all by myself.<br /><br />So as I was "cleaning" my room I discovered not one pile of books I was getting to, not two pile, but three. Three piles of books. and I am reading them. There are three or four romances, a couple of New York Times Best Sellers, children's books, historical fiction, a Harry Potter book, and a couple of fantasies.<br /><br />I piled up 20 books altogether.<br /><br />And it's not like I suddenly stopped reading and let things get backed up! I'm almost done with The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown (not as good as Da Vinci Code).<br /><br />I am not allowed back into a bookstore until I get these piles under control. <br /><br />Or until report card stress forces Autumn to take me there. <br /><br />Now I have some reading to do.christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-54431750150898290202009-09-10T15:27:00.000-07:002009-09-10T15:38:09.403-07:00PrioritiesThe time for season premiers is upon us . . . <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">yay</span>! We have a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">DVR</span> now so you'd think that getting in all those missed programs would be easier. <br /><br />Yeah, now we just have a longer list of stuff to record. Because we can.<br /><br />When you have one TV, it really whittles down your list of options pretty well. Now our list not only includes both Autumn's favorites and my favorites, but some new stuff too. <br /><br />So how do we prioritize? Is "So You Think You Can Dance?" more important than "Project Runway?" <br /><br />And what do we do about Thursday night? Who wins, "Survivor" or "The Office?"<br /><br />It's a mess.<br /><br />I want to see if "Glee" is any good. Autumn wants to catch "Vampire Diaries." They both run up against other shows. <br /><br />Luckily, "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Smallville"</span> moved to Fridays and so far, no conflicts.<br /><br />I tell you, scheduling fall TV with a roommate is a job of work.christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-32455036843418755312009-09-09T18:54:00.000-07:002009-09-09T19:11:48.497-07:00New Goals and School DazeThe year has started and I apologize I didn't post pictures of my class before it was trashed by my 30 fourth graders. Then again, you shouldn't be surprised, I still haven't posted pictures of my "new" apartment.<br /><br />At the beginning of every year, teachers are asked to reevaluate themselves and the jobs they're doing and make goals for the new year. <br /><br />I hate this particular part of starting school. I never know what to write. I ruminate for hours trying to figure these goals out, you know, how do I become a better teacher, a better communicator, all that. Don't get me wrong, there are <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">plenty</span> of things I could do better. It's the choosing just a couple of things to improve out of so many that always stumps me.<br /><br />Happily, I found out I could write a goal concerning my health because it directly applies to teacher <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">attendance</span> (the bosses like you there). Since I already want to go to the gym, I decided to write one about going to the gym. While I was at it, I wrote in a bedtime, and I said that I would stop all work at 8:00 p.m. so I could <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">destress</span>, like you might do with a book or playing <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">tetris</span>. How awesome is that? <br /><br />The state of Utah is supporting my laziness! (But now there are more reasons to feel guilty about not going to the gym today . . . sigh)christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-37767084958306173192009-08-01T19:09:00.000-07:002009-08-01T13:23:30.505-07:00Books I've ReadI was recently reminded of those long, hairy novels they assigned at the end of the year in English for you to read over the summer. I remember, I would be so excited to have my summer, and then, wham! Summer reading assignment. And it wasn't just some thin little thing I could get skim over in a few days. No, I remember my summer assignments being, The Odyssey, Grapes of Wrath, and David Copperfield.<br /><br />Did the teachers really think I was going to read those books? Me? When I had all that free time to sit in the air conditioned Rosepark public library and read what ever was handy?<br /><br />I perfected the fine art of scholastic procrastination over those summers. I would get my copy of the book in June, and then it sat on my nightstand until two weeks before school started. Have you ever tried to read the Grapes of Wrath in two nights?<br /><br />So, I also honed the art of scholastic deception. Erin calls it cheating. I call it survival in honors English.<br /><br />My cousins and my sister and I all went to West High, one year after each other, so we shared the required novels. My copy of David Copperfield looks pretty trashed. And I never finished it. The Odyssey is in two pieces. I didn't finish it either. So it certainly looked like I had read them. (Well, someone had).<br /><br />Just one small way to confuse the teachers with my sneaky ways.<br /><br />I also observed something else that helped me. If you listen very carefully in class, the teachers will tell you exactly what they want on a paper. For a B anyway. So I took notes, and skimmed and I am proud to say I never copied any one's work or read a Cliff's Notes version of anything.<br /><br />And I got a B.<br /><br />So, as I begin another school year, I think of all those kids, scrambling with their Shakespeare and their Dickens, and my heart goes out to Mrs. Barnes and Miss Fowler.<br /><br />Of course they knew what I was doing. Because they are not stupid.<br /><br />Happy Reading!christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-31020537903230166852009-07-30T09:45:00.000-07:002009-07-30T09:56:29.358-07:00Sam And HollyIt is usually Erin's job to report on her kids antics, but today I can't help it.<br /><br />Yesterday Erin and I went shopping for my school clothes and her birthday present. In the middle of Wal-mart, Sam was behaving like a typical 4 year old, and trying every one's patience by whining "Mom, mom, mom . . . " Finally Erin said "I don't want to hear you say mom for one minute."<br /><br />Sam didn't miss a beat, and whined "Erin . . ."<br /><br />Holly and I went school shopping. I hadn't intended to buy anything for her yet, but when Erin went to take Sam to the bathroom, she started showing me all the cute things and pointing out which ones were in her sizes. when Erin got back, we had three outfits in the cart.<br /><br />Holly SOOO has my number.christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-63706021061763312009-07-29T07:51:00.000-07:002009-07-29T08:21:06.289-07:00As summer winds down . . .If you can believe it, I have about three weeks left and I have to get back to work. The school will be open in August, but we have a really awesome principal who doesn't believe in working over vacations, so he may not let us in. I just can't think where the summer has gone. And then I think of all the reading I've done and the traveling I've done.<br /><div><div><div><div><div></div><br /><div>THAT'S where it went.</div><div></div><br /><div>In honor of my wonderful summer, I thought I'd post a few pictures of this summer's "stuff" . . . the events that made it go so fast:</div><br /><div></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363898687202028642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/SnBlb9XcbGI/AAAAAAAAAdA/8C3AoMJVTq0/s320/disneyland+005.jpg" border="0" /></div></div></div></div></div><br /><br /><br /><p>In June we went to Disneyland for Ezri's birthday. Ezri is Autumn's niece.</p><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363898708261661730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/SnBldL0c7CI/AAAAAAAAAdY/HDN45NiuUUA/s320/Wells+007.jpg" border="0" /></p><br /><br /><p>Sam also decided that he was "Buzz", not Sam. Who am I to argue with a child's life goals? So I got him a Buzz t-shirt in Disneyland.</p><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363898715798448386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/SnBldn5XKQI/AAAAAAAAAdg/dLuBKmXqiEU/s320/Wells+005.jpg" border="0" /></p><br /><br /><p>Holly got a lot taller and lost a few teeth. She also learned how to ride a scooter. </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363900865713486994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/SnBnaw9DPJI/AAAAAAAAAdo/o1zy2L0By-g/s320/bahamas+078.jpg" border="0" /></p><p><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Brittanie</span> graduated so we went on a cruise to The Bahamas to celebrate. (This is what humidity does to my hair) </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363898700443003746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 241px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/SnBlcusVq2I/AAAAAAAAAdQ/bn7q3nYkb4Y/s320/Wells+001.jpg" border="0" /></p><p>And Max is learned to move around and is cutting teeth . . . but he's not taking any of it very seriously:)</p><p>It's been a very busy summer. The best kind, because I was busy with family.</p>christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-56496121841096179432009-07-23T08:41:00.000-07:002009-07-23T09:07:23.135-07:00How I spend my summer.Many people have the misconception that teachers are only in the biz to get three months paid vacation every year. <div><div><div><div></div><br /><div>First of all, it's closer to 2 months when you account for meetings, workshops, faculty stuff, meetings, cleaning, conferences and meetings. </div><div></div><br /><div>Secondly, I have <em>plenty</em> to keep me busy this summer. I have not been bored at <em>all.</em></div><div> </div><div>I organized my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">CDs</span>. I play a lot of music in my class and until this year I didn't have an MP3 player or an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">iPod</span>. (Which I recently learned you can plug into the microphones we use at work and play through the speakers and it's totally awesome!)</div><div> </div><div>Anyway, since I now have WAY too many <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">CDs</span> (about 500+), I put them into alphabetical order every summer. I'm not <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">obsessive</span> about it. But this way, for the rest of the year, I basically know where a given CD should be. Nothing gets put back exactly right, but it doesn't get really messy until around Christmas, and I don't really do anything until summer. </div><div> </div><div>Before:<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361683429462046402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/SmiGq_Mu9sI/AAAAAAAAAcg/lOo9zBQVhUQ/s320/latest+pictures+001.jpg" border="0" /></div><div> </div><div>After:<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361683430729593394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/SmiGrD68MjI/AAAAAAAAAco/W6vHdUs6UBY/s320/latest+pictures+002.jpg" border="0" /></div><div>See. Very busy.</div><div> </div><div>Anyone who knows me, knows I adore earrings. The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">dangly</span>, chandelier earrings. I believe there must be a gene for this because my Grandma Baxter loved them too.</div><div> </div><div>But they are a mess. So this summer, I went through my jewelry boxes (yes, that's a plural) and clipped pairs together, and tossed out old ones that don't have pairs.</div><div> </div><div>Before:</div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361683440928589666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/SmiGrp6kh2I/AAAAAAAAAcw/AxIVC8p5_mY/s320/latest+pictures+003.jpg" border="0" /></div><div> </div><div>After:</div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361683446073025490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/SmiGr9FGY9I/AAAAAAAAAc4/Z7ED4SmqwoI/s320/latest+pictures+004.jpg" border="0" /></div></div></div></div><br /><p>Too busy. Busy, busy, busy.</p><p>Or bored. With a dash of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">weird</span> tossed in.</p>christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-19271235753691545892009-07-16T16:31:00.001-07:002009-07-16T17:39:07.734-07:00The Bahamas with BrittI know I haven't been as diligent as I should have been about blogging but there has been a very good reason. A couple of very good reasons. One, I have been trying to figure out how to download pictures from my new camera (oddly enough, it's labeled "easy share") and literally NOTHING has been going on. I could comment on the trouble I am having this summer finding reading material, but does anyone want to hear that again? (By the way, I just read <strong>The Last Lecture</strong> on the flight to Florida, and it was very good).<br /><br />However, on the 8<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span> I flew out to Florida with my sister Kathi and her daughter <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Brittanie</span> for Britt's graduation trip. Britt decided she wanted a cruise to the Bahamas, which I just went on last year. After our trip to Hawaii last summer for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Katelynn's</span> trip, I think Kathi was trying to avoid the use of maps. We did take a lot tour buses and taxi cabs.<br /><br />The trip was great. Not as fun as my first one, simply because I had seizures our first night out. they charge you just like an emergency room when you go to the infirmary. And because I have epilepsy, they wouldn't let me snorkel. That was a cruise wide policy, not the doctor's orders. I was pretty upset because I had already paid to snorkel and none of the materials we received beforehand said anything about this restriction. Worse than that, when I asked the guy at the excursions desk what other options were open to me (he was about 15) he said I could always sit on the beach and wade in the ocean.<br /><br />Really? Can I?<br />I can fly to California in an hour and do that.<br /><br />I also mentioned that I have snorkeled before, in the Bahamas and Hawaii, I own my own gear, and my neurologist recommends sights he thinks I'll like. <br /><br />The 15 year old rolled his eyes.<br /><br />Next time I bring a doctors note and I pack my own gear, hang the expense.<br /><br />Oh well. There are idiots everywhere.<br /><br />Ironically, they have no problem with letting an epileptic <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">parasail</span>. Maybe because it costs twice as much.<br /><br />The point of the trip was to give Britt an experience of a lifetime, and I think she had it. Here are some pictures. I took about 80. I was very careful not to overwhelm everyone.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359207489635116914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/Sl-60UlQZ3I/AAAAAAAAAbY/ga3UCkZJ1f0/s320/bahamas+016.jpg" border="0" />I love this picture of Kathi and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Brittanie</span>. It looks like they are sharing a joke.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359207495296991202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/Sl-60prJv-I/AAAAAAAAAbg/3U_Q2lLDIyE/s320/bahamas+025.jpg" border="0" /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Brittanie</span> on the pool deck<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359207502605937730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/Sl-61E5vbEI/AAAAAAAAAbo/ycrDIqFJ9pg/s320/bahamas+060.jpg" border="0" />This is me. Trying to make to the entry to Nassau. You can see I didn't get very far. Our ship is in the background. It was HOT! I changed into a skirt later on.<br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359207505601792770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/Sl-61QEAiwI/AAAAAAAAAbw/MJEfapBSHvY/s320/bahamas+048.jpg" border="0" /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Brittanie</span> and Kathi at Fort <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Fincastle</span>. That's Nassau and Paradise Island in the background.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359209106739510722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/Sl-8Scw_PcI/AAAAAAAAAb4/4GJ9buaDcS8/s320/bahamas+066.jpg" border="0" /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Brittanie</span> and Kathi didn't want to wait for it, but I made them. I love a sunset at sea.<br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/Sl-8So__sWI/AAAAAAAAAcA/Vsbld6ZkYf8/s1600-h/bahamas+072.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359209110023680354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/Sl-8So__sWI/AAAAAAAAAcA/Vsbld6ZkYf8/s320/bahamas+072.jpg" border="0" /></a> Great Stirrup Cay, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Norwegian's</span> private island.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359209128573217794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/Sl-8TuGjLAI/AAAAAAAAAcY/A0VGmtkgIqg/s320/bahamas+088.jpg" border="0" />Kathi and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Brittanie</span> getting ready to snorkel. I love how dorky they look:)<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359209124707329762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/Sl-8Tfs2ZuI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/SzvPcbvkWgc/s320/bahamas+077.jpg" border="0" />Sitting on the beach with my feet in the water, just as they told me to . . . later Kathi let me borrow her gear and I snorkeled for a bit. Take that Norwegian!<br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359209119064613042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/Sl-8TKrhYLI/AAAAAAAAAcI/Y9K5jhNdITo/s320/bahamas+075.jpg" border="0" /><br />Caribbean Blue . . . way too many people<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359207486894384690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/Sl-60KX0JjI/AAAAAAAAAbQ/sAKuUnEimhU/s320/bahamas+008.jpg" border="0" />WAY cool! It was so peaceful and the water looks so blue. Really worth it.<br /><div><div><div><div><div><div> </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-59084344116282543682009-06-30T07:00:00.000-07:002009-06-30T07:29:39.169-07:00Travel Stress<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/SkogAdeSIXI/AAAAAAAAAbI/FMbsB1IyTyo/s1600-h/Picture_60.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353126299366990194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/SkogAdeSIXI/AAAAAAAAAbI/FMbsB1IyTyo/s320/Picture_60.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I haven't had seizures since December 10th, so Yea, Me! </div><br /><div>But . . . </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Every time I travel, even to the family reunion in Oregon, I stress. and stress is a major factor in causing my seizures. (Okay, so maybe that one might be cause for more stress, not less)</div><div> </div><div>This last trip to Disneyland was a fun, breezy trip. And I stressed.</div><div> </div><div>My family doesn't like it, but they're used to it. Now they have MP3 players and iPods, so they can shut me out. I also notice that more and more, my family avoids me during the preparation phases. </div><div> </div><div>We all cope in various ways.</div><div></div><br /><div>However, I am supposed to go on a cruise to the Bahamas with Kathi and Brittanie and we are no where near ready to go. Kathi hasn't even picked up her passport yet, which she had to expedite. </div><div></div><br /><div>And now I am really stressing out because yesterday, Kathi asked if I would take over planning. She's been pretty sick and doesn't know what to do for a cruise. She assumes I do because I've been on one before. I let Autumn handle all the details then, just like I do whenever I travel with Autumn. Can't do that now.</div><div></div><br /><div>So here is my to do list for today:</div><div></div><br /><div>Rent a car because we missed the shuttle dead line</div><div>Book a hotel in Miami</div><div>Get passport numbers (hoping Kathi has picked hers up and Brittanie finds hers) and register for our cruise</div><br /><div>Try not to stress</div><div></div><br /><div>Hear's hoping modern medicine does it's thing and I have a non-stressful, seizure free, vacation</div><div></div><br /><div>I don't think the 12 pack of Diet Pepsi is going to be enough today. I am definitely going to need ice cream eventually.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-39468426365827244702009-06-28T21:48:00.001-07:002009-06-28T22:35:47.766-07:00Disneyland and Photograpy Drama<div><div><div>Autumn and I went to Disneyland with Autumn's sister Emily and Emily's husband Jason and their children Ezri and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Riker</span> (I think I spelled <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Riker</span> right). It was Ezri's 4<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">th</span> birthday and we all had a fabulous time.<br /></div><div>We spent three days in the park. We saw the fireworks and rode every ride Ezri would go on and managed a few adult rides. Of course, the kids' favorite place was the water park in California Adventure's A Bug's Life garden. I think this was the cleanest <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Riker</span> got :)</div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352616827583994738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/SkhQpTLsG3I/AAAAAAAAAbA/6i3_CyZkhp4/s320/101_0057.jpg" border="0" /></div><div>For her birthday, Ezri went to the Princess Lunch and we got her a princess dress. What a blast! </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352616822810880578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 256px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/SkhQpBZsKkI/AAAAAAAAAa4/-m-pvoKzXdU/s320/101_0042.jpg" border="0" /></div><div>Finally, on Monday, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Riker</span> gave up and fell asleep in my lap on a park bench. The kids hadn't slept before 10:00 for two days. That's when we figured we should leave before someone reported us for child abuse. We started home around 3:00. We got back on Tuesday morning at about 5:00 am. Since Ezri is Autumn's niece, I forwarded everything I took on to Emily and Autumn. The trip was a blast and there are many pictures and memories, but Autumn has posted most of those on her blog.<br /></div><div><div><div><div><div>Erin has been trying to teach herself how to take a good photograph. So Saturday we went on an expedition with all three kids so Erin could practice. She also figured it was time to get one of them all together that looked nice. </div><div> </div><div>This is what we learned. It is impossible to get a 6 month old, a three year old and a seven year old to look at the camera and smile at the same time.</div><br /><div></div><div>Sam learned that boys can go to the bathroom outside.</div><br /><div></div><div>So it was a big day all around. We all started out happy but after a lot of patience, the kids had it. The last pictures are a pretty accurate summation of how they all felt. Sam was more interested in dirt and making faces. Holly wanted to explore. And Max just wanted to be fed. Ironically, Holly and Sam are singing "We Are A Happy Family" in the picture where Max is screaming.</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352610460727704930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/SkhK2sy2_WI/AAAAAAAAAag/5lxXbXVFKuo/s320/101_0157.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352610439948209698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/SkhK1fYpDiI/AAAAAAAAAaA/ZVNV3AO6kB4/s320/101_0137.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352610442443584802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/SkhK1orldSI/AAAAAAAAAaI/HqOKWw1kqik/s320/101_0130.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352610452712183378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/SkhK2O7z1lI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/TiicqfAC9ZA/s320/101_0141.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352610456294897794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/SkhK2cR_uII/AAAAAAAAAaY/tjEFdp_CZ_A/s320/101_0152.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div>These are just my pictures. Erin's are much better. I spent most of the time making sure Sam didn't fall into any water or off of any walls, and holding Max.</div><div> </div><div>In two weeks, I'm off to the Bahamas with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Brittanie</span> and Kathi. Then I've got to get back to my classroom and get ready for . . . wait for it . . . Fall. Where did the summer go?</div></div></div></div></div></div></div>christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-78970238240510995752009-06-18T13:32:00.000-07:002009-06-18T14:00:43.791-07:00BirthdaysThis is the week for birthdays. Holly turned 7 on the 15th, and Brittanie turned 18 on the 16th. Today is Orion's birthday, but I can't remember how old he is. I think he will be a sophomore. Maybe I'm in denial. My oldest nephew cannot be that old. Then again, Brittanie just graduated and Holly is going into the second grade, so I guess he can. Holy Mackerel.<br /><br />For her birthday Holly wanted a scooter, so Erin and I took her to pick one out, and Nana and I bought it. This is her looking pretty snazzy. Sam wouldn't just let me take a picture of Holly, but he also wouldn't stop sticking out his tongue. Isn't Max a cutie?!<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348769578081727234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/Sjqll576MwI/AAAAAAAAAZo/fDrSbfUJ5jM/s320/101_0005.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348769574722650578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/SjqlltbCwdI/AAAAAAAAAZg/tdutBakTBUY/s320/101_0004.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348769581791163538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/SjqlmHwTtJI/AAAAAAAAAZw/RPp-qTOnwMQ/s320/101_0009.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348769590427275042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/Sjqlmn7UTyI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/qTdH69TUPJw/s320/101_0012.jpg" border="0" /><br />Every year, I also celebrate "Little Brother's Day" on Holly's birthday. I always felt left out on Erin's birthday when we were little. When you're one of two kids in a house, it's understandable. So when Sam was born, I started the tradition by celebrating "Big Sister's Day" with Holly. The idea is, when someone has a birthday, I don't forget that this is the day their siblings became brothers or sisters. So on Holly's birthday, when everyone celebrates her, I don't forget the boys. And on the boys' birthdays, I get a little something for the others.<br /><br />Max is too little to care this year. But when I reminded Sam that Holly's birthday was his Little Brother's day he was pretty excited. So Holly got a pink scooter and Sam got (another) Lightning McQueen. Then Erin hung out at my place with the boys and I took Holly to the movies. Sam is pretty excited for his birthday in August. So is Holly.<br /><br />Now, when I get old and infirm, I know I'll be well taken care of.<br />I bought their love.<br /><br />Happy Birthday Everyone!christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-8391308654266572122009-06-10T07:48:00.000-07:002009-06-10T08:06:29.444-07:00ElectronicsI have the title for a new folksong. "The Ballad of Modern Technology." I can hear Peter, Paul and Mary tuning up as I type it.<br /><br />I mentioned that I left my digital camera at my sister's house two months ago. Since I got it back it hasn't worked. Right as the warranty ran out. Granted, Holly stepped on it in January, but really, is there a delayed reaction on these things? I highly doubt it. Since I have a vacation coming up when I will definitely want a camera, I went and got another one. (Anyone want a digital camera that works perfectly except the button to take pictures doesn't work?)<br /><br />At the same time, My MP3 player keeps telling me that it's full. Even after I reformat it. There is nothing on it, nada. And yet the computer says it's full. A week ago it was only half full. I can still put music on it, but it's like having a car with a gas gauge that doesn't work. How do I know when I really am out of room?<br /><br />I hate technology.<br /><br />Growing up, my dad had a lot of different kinds of computers in the basement in various stages of destruction. He built and programmed computers. He was the Bluebeard of computers. I'm sure he made sure his new laptop didn't get a look in the back of the basement to see what was in store if it started giving him trouble. <br /><br />He hated technology. <br /><br />Mostly because it's built to breakdown. Like my camera and my MP3 player, technology seems to be built to breakdown if you look at it wrong. If dad was working on the computer at home, we couldn't run the blow dryer at the same time. Which Erin always forgot. And then we'd blow a fuse. and then Dad would blow a fuse. Because there are only so many times you can do that to a computer before it gets cranky. Granted this was 10 years ago in a house that was 100 years old. but you get the picture. Shouldn't computers be more adaptable to old technology . . . like 50 year old circuit breakers? Or fourth grade teachers?<br /><br />Seriously. There should be a song. Dad really liked Joan Baez . . .christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-81952422605330712322009-06-08T08:25:00.000-07:002009-06-08T08:51:02.441-07:00SummerSchool is out and for me summer is officially here. I realize that it doesn't start until June 21st, but honestly, when I know that I can stay up til one in the morning reading if I want because I can sleep in the next day because there's no work for me, that's summer time. (I fall asleep before 10 more often than not, but the possibility is still there) When I start going crazy looking for things to do, that's summer time. Forget what the calendar says. Set your clocks by my mental state.<br /><br />I get bored faster than anyone I know, even my own students. I have very few plans this summer. I am going to the Bahamas for a few days in July, but the rest of my summer break is free. And anyone who knows me knows that this is always a problem. <br /><br />For example, today I am surrounded by books, music, movies, crafts and the Internet. I have nothing to do.<br /><br />And then I hear my mother's voice, from summers gone by:<br /><br />"How can you be bored?"<br />"I don't want to hear that." <br />"You can always do the dishes." <br />"Go find your sister."<br />"Clean your room."<br />"You haven't read ALL your books"<br />"Go outside"<br />"Call Sharlon"<br />"Why don't you do laundry and I'll watch TV?"<br />"Go to the library"<br /><br />Wow. They say that smells bring back the most vivid memories. I disagree. I think it's my mom's voice. <br />I have this sudden urge to find my sister and make tents in a backyard somewhere.<br />I absolutely feel guilty about not doing housework.<br /><br />Love and guilt trips . . . they stay with you forever!christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-81098369322954256782009-06-05T04:11:00.000-07:002009-06-05T04:27:26.950-07:00Last Day!Last year, on this very day, I went to school, cleaned, got all checked out, and then went home at 1:30 and moved furniture across the parking lot to our new apartment. This year, I moved two weeks early and I moved to Taylorsville. But this year, we had help from Autumn's brothers and sister, and her dad, and my brother-in-law Rob. So it went pretty smooth. Smoother than if it was just 3 girls filling boxes and dumping them on the floor and then refilling them. I am now a fan of moving vans and packed boxes.<br /><br />Today our principal has listed as a "quiet day." He wants us to clean, and get ready for check out. We have to sign in keys and manuals and id badges and pay fines and return missing stuff that you didn't know you had and report damaged textbooks and damaged rooms and do a check out interview. It's a mess. Every year I hate the process. But it always seems to get done.<br /><br />And my classroom set up is finished! I don't have any work days next year, so I had my kids help me this year and <em>voile! . . .</em> A complete room. We've covered everything with white paper so it won't fade over the summer. We've covered the books so they won't get too dusty. We've wiped down every surface and cleaned out every drawer and closet. We've stacked deskes and chairs and tables. (Seriously, how do you mom's get anything done without at least 23 ten year olds? :) )<br /><br />So today, in my lesson book, I wrote "clean room" "Watch movie" and "community circle"<br />What do I do? 4 1/2 hours are stretching out before me like they never have before. A movie will take about half of that. <br />It is a little scary.christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-58496440885528205852009-06-02T04:33:00.000-07:002009-06-02T04:48:24.782-07:00End of the YearI truly am sorry for not blogging sooner. I wanted to post pictures of the new place but my camera has been at my sister's since Rob graduated, and the batteries are dead anyway, and the place is still a mess, so the pictures will come later. But we're moved in and almost all unpacked. We moved Erin last week end. Hopefully everyone will stay for a while because we're all tired. Or at least I am.<br /><br />Plus, it is the last week of school and I am struggling to keep the kids focused on learning. I know. I have to hold back the laughter <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">every time</span> I say that out loud too. It doesn't help that the CRT testing ended a month ago. We had to have almost everything taught before testing started so they could pass the test. The last few weeks have been a steady stream of social studies and novel units. <br /><br />But this week is a mess. And I am already worn to a frazzle. It is Tuesday morning, and I haven't even left for work yet. But here's the schedule for the week. Maybe you'll get my drift:<br /><br />Monday - regular schedule<br />Tuesday - Fourth Grade talent show (usually takes between 2 and 3 hours)<br />Wednesday - Field Day<br />Thursday - Awards Assembly<br />Friday - Quiet Day, for cleaning.<br /><br />Notice that the afternoons are all open. So we get the kids all crazy and then I have to pull them together and teach math. Again, laughter. <br /><br />But I imagine it has been this way since school began. I know the last week has always been this crazy. My one consolation is that on Saturday, I begin a VERY long weekend.christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-71607593046300198252009-05-20T17:03:00.000-07:002009-05-20T17:11:08.377-07:00The Joys of MovingSo I last complained about moving . . . again. But now that I've packed everything I can until the night before, I found many, many joys in knowing that I really am just passing through here.<br /><br />1. I know I am not responsible for the funky smell in the kitchen.<br />2. I do not have to feel guilty about the amazing growth of weeds out front.<br />3. Since I've been eating take out ever since I packed the dishes, I really don't feel guilty about the dirty dishes either.<br />4. I am not longer worried about those unorganized bills. Done, and done.<br />5. I can get those extra shelves I've wanted and let the guys do all the heavy lifting.<br /><br />See. there's <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">always</span> a silver lining.<br /><br />And, if you're feeling like your life could use a little more service and maybe a donut or two, we're moving this weekend. We'll start at Autumn's and work up to my place. Come one, come all. Misery loves company.christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-84443579751238481392009-05-09T12:53:00.000-07:002009-05-09T13:40:04.286-07:00Moving<div><div>I hate moving. And yet, here I go again. Last year at this exact same time, I was packing and moving. Except last May, I was moving my junk across my parking lot and reusing Rubbermaid containers. In 14 days I am moving from Holladay to Taylorsville. I am moving in with my cousin Autumn. And the important thing here is that I can't do a casual move like last year. I have to actually pack boxes. With lids. I can't just carry them to my new place, dump their contents, and then go back and fill up again. So I have been collecting xerox boxes at work. The five I got now hold half of my books. I packed my shoes in an empty Rubbermaid container. My belts and gloves and scarves and hats are in my luggage, and my bills and crafts were straightened up and repacked. I now have about 14 packed boxes, not counting the ones in the storage closet outside. I have taken down all my pictures and stuff in the living room. I am ready to pack the dishes and DVDs as soon as I get them all back. </div><div> </div><div>I am no where near ready.</div><div></div><br /><div>While I was getting stuff from the living room, I noticed that my roommate Kendra just got a new photo frame. Kendra is fond of the signs with sayings like "Stand for Something." They are all over our house. I don't hate them, but I like to joke about them. This new frame says "It's not where you go or what you do, It's who is beside you that counts." The frame doesn't have a photo yet, so my other roommate, Jessica, found one of herself, and set it in the inset of the frame where a photo would go. Not only did it break up the boredom of packing, I laughed really hard.<br /></div><div>Now it looks something like this (I can't find my camera. Besides the batteries are dead. This will have to do):</div><br /><div></div><div><span style="font-size:180%;"> It's not <em><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">where you go</span></em></span></div><div><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"> or what you do</span></span><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333924518727367986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 230px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_TrPIGRjj-p8/SgXoFuV9vTI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/oUpvpSZuaHY/s320/roomies.jpg" border="0" /> <div><span style="font-size:180%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:180%;"> It's who <em><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">is beside you</span></em></span></div><div><span style="font-size:180%;"><em> that</em> counts.</span></div><div></div><br /><div>That's awesome.</div><div></div><br /><div>I am going to miss these guys.</div></div>christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-44456224950566599602009-05-04T15:52:00.000-07:002009-05-04T16:09:18.521-07:00AppreciationThis week is Teacher Appreciation Week. If you think that's a bit much, the NEA got specific and said that Tuesday is National Teacher Appreciation Day. The voted on it and everything. Waaaaaaaaaaaay back in 1985. So the Tuesday of the first full week of every May, tell a teacher how great they are. Every other day of the year, feel free to show us as much disrespect as you want. Isn't that why we have a Mother's and a Father's Day? <br /><br />In fact, that's why my mom hates Mother's Day. She thinks every day we should be treating her like we do on Mother's Day. And on Mother's Day, she only asks for a cherry red 2009 Mustang convertible. If wishes were Mustangs . . .<br /><br />Anyway, back to my appreciation . . . Someone hand wrote a bunch of signs for the halls. Most of them just say "Driggs Teachers are Great! Appreciate!" But my favorite, I like to think they started at 1:00 in the morning and got a little crazy with. I would have taken a picture of it but my camera's batteries are dead. It says something like this:<br /><br />"We appreciate our teachers, secretaries, principal, aides, custodians, and lunch lady."<br /><br />I think the word they were looking for is "staff."<br /><br />Get out there and show how much you love your teachers, old or new. Believe me, with 22 school days left, we need can use all the encouragement we can get right now.christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6713691941072498894.post-79860909906798534892009-05-02T10:45:00.000-07:002009-05-02T11:03:24.080-07:00Spiritual StoriesRecently, in General Conference, we were all reminded about the importance of Sacrament Meeting, and that if you are not getting anything out of it, it's your fault.<br /><br />And then my roommate Jessica came home with story and I had the completely WRONG reaction. But, to rationalize, so did Jessica.<br /><br />Jessica was in Sacrament Meeting with her family at a cousin's homecoming. Her aunt related this story in very dramatic terms with tears. If you've heard and loved it apologize.<br /><br />A six year old boy was throwing brick after brick into the road, barely missing cars. One of the bricks finally hit a car and the driver got out and started yelling at the boy. "Why are you throwing those bricks?! Look at this dent?! Who is going to pay for this?! Where are your parents?!" The boy, with tears running down his face said "Sir, I was trying to get some one's attention. My brother is in a wheelchair and he has fallen out. I need your help." The man, feeling very humbled about jumping to conclusions, helped out the grateful children. He kept the dent in his car to remind him never to jump to conclusions again.<br /><br />Okay. I know what I should think. Here's what I thought . . .<br />"What the heck is the kid doing taking his wheelchair bound brother to a place with lose bricks lying around?! One assumes this is a construction (or destruction) site. Not the safest place."<br /><br />Jessica's dad thought "How could a six year old through bricks that far into the road?"<br /><br />Jessica had the best and most logical thought:<br />"Wasn't there a pine cone around to throw?"<br /><br />I guess I know what I need to work in Sacrament Meeting.christina pettithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09517915572484869819noreply@blogger.com2