A good time

was had by all today as we spent the afternoon out in the winter wonderland that is my backyard.  The snowman you see above is brought to you by gift from my secret pal at school.  This year, instead of just having Secret Santa, we are doing pals all year long.  I have to say, I like it for all year.  I think it's fun. Especially because one of the best tricks I have ever played comes from Secret Santa.

Every year we drew names for Secret Santa.  Every year, you hoped someone good got your name.  By good, I mean someone who doesn't think fruitcake is a delicacy.  So when I drew, and got a good friend of mine (who definitely likes what she likes), I saw my opportunity.  I immediately knew that I was going to prank her.  I went to my mom's house and asked, "Hey, do you have any old junk that I could regift to my friend for Secret Santa?"  She was more than happy to help me with my joke, and out from under the bathroom sink, she pulled a package of champagne bubble baths (still in their box).  The cellophane was coming off and the Walmart sticker (old green kind) was still there.  I had struck gold.  I gathered up some other things from my house (to be honest what teacher doesn't have some stuff to regift?).

On Monday, the trick began.  I can't really remember the order of the gifts that I gave (one was a gourd painted like an apple with a chip in the lid), but what I do remember is my friend showing me the "gifts" with an astounded expression and the words, "Look at this, LOOK AT THIS!"  By the end of the week, pretty much the whole school knew what was going on (it's amazing that no one told).  On Friday, I did give her real presents of things she actually does like.  She was a good sport (even though I'm not sure she has truly forgiven me).

Listen to the little voice

On Wednesday, just as the first flakes of the subsequent 7 inches of snow began to swirl through the air, I was packing my bag to go home.  Gradebook, papers, Staedler pens (love them), and stickers were all carefully placed in my school sack.  I put on my coat, checked my purse for my keys/phone (I leave one or the other in my desk about once a month), and grabbed my bag.  Then, I stopped because the little voice (in my head) said, "Better grab your books and planbook, too."  So I shifted my things around and grabbed all my books to take with me.  I am so glad (even though it was really heavy).  Now I don't have to drag myself up to school this weekend to do my plans for next week.  Granted, Monday and Tuesday are planned for me because of yesterday and today, but still, I like to have it in pencil on the right days (only rookies write their plans in pen).  I was thinking that due to the forecast of yet another snowstorm on Sunday night, I will do my plans on Post-its and put them in the right square (at least for that moment).

The value of my day

Snowman pancakes:  $1.00
Sugar cookie ingredients:  $4.23
Super Slider Snow Disc:  $8.99
Hot Chocolate:  $.10
Sheer joy shared by all upon receiving the news that school was cancelled and having fun on said day:  Priceless

Just call me Wimpy

Because tonight as I watch the snow come down, I am thinking, "SNOWDAY...SNOWDAY!"  Yes, I know we have to make them up, but that's not tomorrow.  Ah, tomorrow...when I could hang around in my pajamas instead of decide which pants don't really need ironing/make me look frumpy.  Tomorrow...when I could hang out with my own monkeys (cookies anyone? we are totally going to bake) instead of my 23 young friends with eager minds (where wearing pajamas is frowned upon).  Tomorrow...where the coffee doesn't cost $4.25 for a cup (I'm pretty much addicted to Starbucks) because it's in my kitchen.  So yes, I will gladly pay you my Spring Break for a day off tomorrow. 

P.S.  You get a gold star, if you knew that was a Popeye reference.

My heart is breaking

Last night I had the pleasure of accompanying the Cubscout to a skating party at the local roller rink.  I think he was a little nervous about it (evidenced by his repeated checking of the invitation for the correct time and date).  The party was for a girl, after all.  Prior to the party we stopped off at Wal-Mart for a gift that, "Will not make her think I like like her."  A craft set was settled on, and then both monkeys went to get haircuts.  At the end of the trim, the stylist asked the Cubscout if he wanted gel or not.  At first, he started to say no, but then stage whispered, "I better get some to make my hair spiked because of the party." I said, "Right," even though it made me cry a little on the inside to think my baby was considering what would make him cooler to his friends.

Watching a primary skating party is kind of funny because there are very few of the kiddos who can actually skate at first.  My son was no exception.  For about the first hour, he along with most of the others, skated along the wall (skating is kind of a strong verb...clinging while rolling is more like it).  About halfway through the party, he started to get the hang of it and rolled past me nodding his head (can't get too wild with the dance moves when you have wheels attached to your shoes) to Party in the USA (you're welcome, if you just started singing that in your head).  When it was time to open gifts (the craft set was a hit), I noticed that he was the only boy from the class who came to the party.  There was a bit of a commotion about who got to sit by him for cake.  He was totally eating it up (all the while looking a little embarrassed that his mom was there).  Again crying (I'm just glad I controlled the actual tears).

After the party, his dad and sister came to get us so we could eat.  The Cubscout told my DH all about the party and how he was the only boy.  My DH looked at him and said, "I only have one thing to say...play on playa."  Then he high fived him.  Oh dear.