Sometime soon here, I will upload some photos. And then I can tell you about our fabulous winter visit to the home of Chickadeedee and Hans Juergen and their wonderful children. In which we filled our days with amazing adventures, such as mornings in T-shirts at the park around the corner. And an afternoon on the couch with a book (for me). (Yes, I just abandoned my child to play with Legos that whole time.) (And yes, when the kids got rowdy I didn't even hear -- you know, engrossed and all that.) (And yes, I do feel very guilty about that.) But how amazing is a holiday in which you can read novels and absorb vitamin D?
(Sorry about abandoning my wild child, HJ and C. If you let us come back in a few years, I will promise to be a real parent in spite of all the interesting books lining your shelves.)
Tim and I had long serious discussions about how we could spend all our winters in the warmth, while keeping our current jobs. Honestly, I bet with some work and a little bit of pixie dust I could rearrange my schedule such that January to April, I worked remotely from Arizona on research. The only real problem would be switching Jonathan's schools twice each year, requiring him to meet standards of two different states. But come on, how disruptive could that really be? Really? I'm kind of willing to live with a scarred child for a little more sunshine in the winter.
But since I have not yet uploaded photos, this is instead a post about ch-ch-ch-changes.
Remember how I've been working as a primary teacher? That is, each Sunday at church I have been teaching the five year olds for several months now? With the new year, that will go away. Next year I will only teach adults. And only every other week. And if any of them sneak up and shout into the microphone during singing time, so help me I will send them out into the hall for the rest of the meeting.
I can't wait.
(Yes, Chickadeedee -- your job! Send me pointers!)
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CORRECTED COMMENT:
I, too, rejoice as I read that your current rejoicings includes your amazing adventures during your fabulous visit here. Not once did I notice any deficiencies in your parenting; my days were so much more enjoyable with your company and the change of pace, not to mention that my sink is cleaner than it had been in weeks. Of course, chances are that our three year old will no longer be three during future get-togethers, so I hope for less shouting, smashing, and hitting from him. Please do continue your serious discussions about snow-birding it here every winter semester and encouraging trilingualism in your boy.
Congratulations on your new Sunday job: it's now you, me, and The Old Cowboy. Not that you need any pointers, but now the challenges will be keeping everyone awake and knowing how to moderate/respond to/move beyond the rant about the evils of diet cola during WoW discussions. Besides, whoever said that good teaching principles and techniques applicable to Calculus couldn't bring a welcome and refreshing approach to a SS class?
I've come to see lesson preparation like preparing for a bike ride: I try to come with my bike well-oiled and packed with extra water, and my body fit enough and capable of peddling the whole way myself yet focused on preparing others to take a turn at the peddling (a teaching friend was told by her friend, Elder Bednar, to be sure to let the students teach each other). Does this mean by bicycle is built for two, or three, or more? Although I know the bike trails by heart, I still bring a map, and then I try to let the pulls and nudges from beyond myself dictate where the bike should be steered. I have a lot to learn and I find myself consciously beating down my own pride, but occasionally a lesson feels right on, or at least part of a lesson. I have the even lessons for this coming year; that would be neat if we ended up teaching the same lessons, or at least some of the same. Let me know what your schedule is, and I always welcome pointers from you: you bike much more frequently than I do anyway.
OK. I removed the two old comments and left the new. Honestly, I didn't even notice the error until you pointed it out, but then Tim and I had a good laugh.
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