So, my mom says I’m not posting enough here. Yeah, she’s right. Here’s where I’m at:
A full third into my first semester at the new gig. I’m still giddily happy, though my giddiness is interspersed with moments of holy-crap-I’ve-never-had-this-much-responsibility-in-my-life. But then I remind myself that I began raising children at the age of 20, and that they’re all fairly well-adjusted, healthy, and smart.* And so I can *do this.* And I am.
I now officially have three hockey players. Little J started this morning at our local rink. After a bout of shyness and fear because he was just about the smallest/youngest boy there, he happily ran the drills with the big kids.** H has had a great field hockey season; while I am less-than-thrilled that they wear skirts to play, I will admit it’s a pretty tough-looking sport, and her coach is fabulous: lots of encouragement and team-building.
Still trying to find/make a local running community for myself. I’m on a mailing/listserv for an active runners’ club in Reading, but the drive is too far to make the weekly trail runs. What I need is a GOOD FRIENDLY LIBERAL KINDERGARTEN TEACHER NEIGHBOR who’s got a little more discipline and a little less restraint than I do. She needs to paint home made campaign signs*** and make lemon bars.
*H is currently brushing her hair for the gad-zillionth time today. Which I suppose is healthy for an-almost-12-year-old.
**SC PA is not like CNY, where people start their kids in hockey before they can walk. Most kids in the beginning hockey class were Big J’s age/size, and Little J was a bit disgruntled: “Where’s the LITTLE KIDS, Ma?? You said there’d be little kids here!!”
***Though I’d settle for running with the person who fashioned this sign: