So I had a lot of cute ideas for birthday parties, but every time I asked Silas what kind of party he wanted he would exclaim, “BUS!” The child is obsessed with school buses, so even though I knew it would perhaps be a more difficult party to execute than some, I gave into his wishes. He immediately deemed it his “bussy” (bus party) and talked about it nonstop for weeks beforehand. And yes, I know he is two and won’t even remember it, but hey it brought him some joy in the moment. He was in a really awful mood right up until the party – in hindsight I think he was just overwhelmed by everything – so I did not get as many great photos as  I had hoped. Oh well.

The front entrance

Jessica designed this fabulous invitation!

Birthday banner (sorry for the bad photo)

My mother-in-law works with a man who makes and decorates cakes on the side. He did such a great job with Silas’ cake!

When I was still unsure if we were going to be able to pull off this “bussy” or not, I miraculously found some bus stencils at the thrift store! I put them to good use for both the banner and the food place cards.

Double-Decker Bus Sandwiches

Traffic Light Fruit Skewers (which I realized after the fact were in the wrong order…oops)

The Horn on the Bus Bugles

Wheels on the Bus Mac & Cheese

I like to come up with some sort of constructive activity for the little guests. First, they decorated buses with stickers and crayons.

Then we had a “toy walk.” Basically I put down squares of paper which each had a different picture representation of a verse from “The Wheels on the Bus.” We played the song as the kiddos walked around in a circle. When the music stopped I would call out a picture, and the person on that picture got to pick out a toy. They had lots of fun!

Singing “Happy Birthday” to the birthday boy!

If I have learned anything in my two years of kid birthday-partying it’s that if your child won’t open presents, lots of other people will gladly do it for him!

Will Grayson, Will Grayson by David Levithan and John Green

This book was so much fun to read! It follows two boys named Will Grayson whose lives eventually collide. Levithan writes one Grayson’s voice, while Green writes the other, which really was a treat. There is an online romance aspect of this story which totally won me over more than anything else because it brought back such fond memories of chatting with my future husband, but even beyond that it’s just such a happy, feel-good story which is still so real in that way that only John Green can capture.

Every Day by David Levithan

After reading Will Grayson, Will Grayson I wanted to read some more David Levithan, so I picked up Every Day. The basic premise behind the book is that A is a…soul I guess would be the best word, who inhabits a new body every day. Because of this, every single chapter is him in a new body, although the narration stays consistent. I thought this would annoy me more than it did, thankfully. This is a fun, cute, and sometimes bittersweet read but not the most groundbreaking novel ever.

The Dog Stars by Peter Heller

Somebody told me that I just HAD to read  this post-apocalyptic novel because I had just read The Road for class and was utterly devastated by it, and said person told me that The Dog Stars was even more horrific. Katie, I respectfully disagree. While I did like this book, and I do still find myself thinking about it, it’s no The Road. It has way too much of a perky, optimistic, happy post-apocalypse ending for my tastes. I need the doom and gloom, Heller. The narrator of The Dog Stars is really likable, though, and the book was well written, although at times it seemed a little too obvious that Heller is typically a journalist for outdoor magazines and this is his first piece of fiction.

Wild by Cheryl Strayed

Like Oprah and most of America right now, I’m wild about this book! (see what I did there?) I was unsure at first if the whole concept of here’s-me-telling-you-about-my-long-and-agonizing-hike would wear on me, however Strayed mixes in enough of her other life experiences at the time which were fueling this hike to keep me interested and even empathetic. Naturally, I finished this book and proclaimed to Ryan that we should totally head out tomorrow, overweight and underprepared, and hike the Appalachian Trail or something, which I know is utterly ridiculous but Strayed just got me THAT pumped up for a life-changing, hiking experience. Look for my hiking memoir in a few years…or not.

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep by Phillip K. Dick

Yeah, of course, this is a sci-fi classic, but I’d never read it and decided it was time. I really love Blade Runner, so of course it’s ridiculous that I hadn’t read the book, and also my professor this semester had recommended it since I was/am going through this post-apocalyptic literature phase. I really am not a sci-fi reader, so I was kind of scared to pick this up, but naturally I loved it. It’s just so…genius? Is that the correct word? I think so. It was also interesting to see how many other authors have copied Dick’s genius. I’m still thinking about a lot of aspects of the novel. If anyone would like to have a discussion group, I’m game!

Reconstructing Amelia by Kimberly McCreight

Boo! Hiss! Boo! Hiss! for Reconstructing Amelia. I had heard from Jessica (by no fault of her own) that this was the “it book” of the summer and was being liked to Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl. Insert choking and sputtering noises here. This book was capital-A Awful. Sometimes I feel as if my true calling was to be an editor, and had I been McCreight’s editor I would have skinned her alive. The concept here is good: girl goes missing, mom is retracing her activities, it becomes apparent she was involved with a secret skull-and-bones type society at her private school, but then it becomes a train wreck: numerous loose threads which were never tied up, completely stupid resolutions to all conflicts, somewhat implausible political agendas thrown in the reader’s face. Let me just say one more time an emphatic Boo! Hiss!

Across the Universe by Beth Revis

This is a YA sci-fi/dystopian novel, and after reading it I think I simply need a break from that genre. They are all starting to feel the same. This book features split narration which I increasingly can’t stand unless it’s really well-done, which in this case it was not. The main characters were tolerable but not anyone I actually cared for. I could see the solution to the “big mystery” a mile away. However, I think my biggest problem with this book is that they were stuck on a spaceship for the entire thing, and it literally made me claustrophobic. I become uncomfortable simply reading the long descriptions of how they had to breathe in the stale air and look up at the fake ceiling. Not my idea of light, fun reading material.

Lady of Ashes by Christine Trent

This novel is a piece of historical fiction about a female undertaker in Victorian London…which is interesting enough until it’s not. Again, can we find an editor, here? Did they all go on strike? I seriously think 150 pages could have been cut from this novel. While I found the descriptions of Victorian London interesting and the information concerning undertaking and embalming utterly fascinating, the rest of the book kind of sucked. It almost felt as if Trent was simply trying to show off how much research she had done. Also, the narration often focused on several other characters who were seemingly pointless. When the big climax finally came and the mystery was solved, it was literally so ridiculous and implausible that I was tempted to giggle rather than feel engrossed or relieved. I was glad when this book was finally over.

I feel like the last few books I’ve read have been really terrible. My Shelfari “To Read” shelf is heavy with titles, but I’ll always take more suggestions. Read anything amazing lately? Know of any post-apocalyptic titles which I must peruse in order to continue to satiate my appetite?

In 2005 I spent a semester abroad in Regensburg, Germany. Even now, eight years later, I think about it often and try to actively assess what I learned from that experience. I’ve come up with many things which I gained, however nine weeks ago I received a new student who has made me revisit everything it meant to be an exchange student. My new student is from a Persian family and has moved around a lot. He now finds himself in the middle of nowhere, Kentucky, at a boarding school where he knows no one. He doesn’t have a single friend or relative in America. That’s scary, right? But what I have come to admire most about my student is his enthusiasm. He is always willing to speak, asks a million questions, and even told me to correct him any time he says something incorrectly, whether we are in class or just passing on the sidewalk. I am crazy about that desire to succeed.

You can simply see on his face how much he wants to fully immerse himself in America. I feel badly that he is kind of trapped here and can’t fully get an American experience (whatever that is), although he’ll learn plenty all the same. His enthusiasm inspires and and makes me smile.

I don’t know that I was so overtly enthusiastic to be in Germany, but I was excited and ready to soak up everything I could. I remember very clearly that panic of having to navigate a strange city alone and fumble through a foreign language. It was scary, but it was also exhilarating. I remember being thrilled to make weekend plans for some excursion, or having no plans at all, free to explore the city or just converse with my host mother. Even the mundane took on a new excitement because it was foreign and new.

Now that I have my own son, I can’t really imagine letting him loose in Europe for three months, but I can’t say I wouldn’t do it. I would love for him to have that opportunity, just as I have enjoyed watching my new student in his American experience these past few months. Sometimes I feel as if I am living vicariously through him, remembering that nervous excitement which I felt every day, knowing that this was probably a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity which I needed to enjoy to the fullest while I could.

I’m grateful I was able to study abroad for a lot of reasons, but currently I’m grateful because I’m able to empathize so much more when a nervous, confused, yet excited young person walks through my classroom door, ready to practice English and learn American literature. I understand that anxiety, but I also understand that spark in his eye as he seeks to understand this new country and culture.

I was just informed that next year I will be teaching one section of ESL. While I balked at first, I’m starting to come around. God gave me the opportunity to study abroad in a foreign country, and so I am equipped to help others do the same. I have the patience and understanding needed to walk them through a sometimes difficult journey, and I’m excited to do the job.

But only a few seconds later I realized the problem with this situation.

There are a few parts of that movie which I would not mind watching with my grandma. A few. But most of the movie is not those parts. On this particular Monday morning the movie was at the part when Andy and his girlfriend are about to have sex for the first time. He is trying on all of her condoms.

I began to get squeamish.

Then it progresses to the aftermath of that failed experience, when he is in so much…um..discomfort…that he has to call the Viagra hotline.

By this point I was kind of starting to sweat. What would have normally made my immature side chuckle was now totally freaking me out. I was consoling myself with the fact that most everyone in the room seemed asleep, absorbed in something else, or hard of hearing, but still. I couldn’t help but wonder whose job it was to control the waiting room T.V. and why this raunchy movie was being shown at 7:30 a.m. to me and a bunch of senior citizens.

Then I remembered another instance of vastly inappropriate waiting room television, although this one was not nearly as funny. In April of 2010 I found myself in a hospital waiting room, vacillating between numbness and hysteria as I waited for pre-registration and bloodwork before I underwent a D&C the next day. I had just heard the words “there is no heartbeat – you’ve lost the baby” an hour before and was unsure how to even breathe and walk, much less answer questions. As I sat there, clutching my husband in the lonesome waiting room, I let my eyes drift to the television. It was tuned to the gay and lesbian channel, and was showing some sort of drama which involved many lesbian love scenes.

In the moment, I was vastly uncomfortable. Something about the juxtaposition of this lesbian love with my heterosexual heartbreak was more than I could handle. I felt sick and wanted the channel changed. I’m a very passive person normally, and of course this was only exacerbated by my fresh trauma, so instead I just sat there and tried to stare off into space.

Now I can laugh about it – I find it quite funny actually, especially considering this was a religiously-affiliated hospital – but in the moment I just felt appalled. I wanted the T.V. turned off. Period. I did not want to see scenes of love or sex in any form or fashion. I wanted the entire world to suck, because for me in that moment, it did.

Can’t we have waiting room T.V. on happy channels, all of the time, where the content is totally family-friendly? Or just chuck the T.V. altogether? I guess I’m kind of a radical, but I’m tired of feeling uncomfortable when all I need is a simple distraction.

Man, I feel that.

The more that time passes since losing my dad, the more I miss him because of how much I’m growing up. I want him to see that. I want him to be proud of me.

I always coveted my dad’s pride. I wanted him to have no doubt of disappointment in me. I wanted to please him, and I lived most of my adolescent and early adult life unsure if I had pleased him at all. Literally on his deathbed he told me, “I’m proud of you,” and I’ve carried that with me to this day. It was the affirmation I needed. Maybe he knew that, I don’t know.

But I still wish he was here for me to prove it to him. I wish we could enjoy each other as adults. I wish we could commiserate as fellow English teachers. I wish I could see him as a grandfather.

Wish, wish, wish. That’s all these are – I know. I have to trust in that somewhat cliched and, frankly, corny notion that he is “looking down on me” and can see what I’m up to. I’m not sure I believe it in quite those terms, but I certainly don’t think he’s losing any sleep over how I’m turning out. I can rest satisfied in that.

But I still would rather he be here.

The nurse starts in with a litany of questions.

“Do you have any allergies?”

“Are you currently taking any medications?”

“Any surgeries?”

That question.

“Yes, I’ve had a C-section.” My Silas. My love. My miracle. His giggle is the happiest thing I know. His (rare) snuggles make any bad day better. His intelligence amazes me. His stubbornness frustrates me. His mere existence humbles me. 

“And I’ve had a D & C.” The baby I’ll never know. The natural pregnancy I still mourn and don’t understand and wish desperately I could re-create. November 24 will never be the same – the birthday never known. Nine weeks of excitement shattered by only a few words. The sadness and confusion still ever-present.

A few simple questions which really are not simple at all.

OK, OK, I don’t always hold to this rule hard and fast – for instance this summer I totally bought into the Gillian Flynn Gone Girl craze, and it was totally worth it – however I read it from the privacy of my Kindle so nobody had to know what I was reading.

This all brings me to this semester of graduate school. When I saw the syllabus, I got kind of excited about reading The Road. Then I looked on down and saw The Life of Pi and I kind of rolled my eyes. See, I’ve never had any desire to read The Life of Pi. I did put it on my Shelfari “To Read” shelf way back in the day since everyone was talking about how ah-mazing it was, but I secretly had no intention of ever reading it unless I found myself in the unique position of having read every other book in the entire world. Then, of course, this summer the ah-mazing film version came out, to which I continued to roll my eyes. My desire to not read this book simply grew stronger because you know that now a bajillion people are all like, “That movie was amazing. I must read the book now.”

I was so set against not reading The Life of Pi that in a moment of sheer brilliance, brilliance I tell you, I purchased all other textbooks for the course but not that one. I figured I would wait until the last possible minute and hopefully get it from the library. The Amazon price was obviously inflated due to the movie craze, and who wants that book sitting on my shelf at home anyway? I was going to stick it to the man.

(These things never quite work out like you’ve planned. You know that, right?)

So I have to have The Life of Pi read by Monday, and a week ago I found myself still lacking a copy of the novel. Although the library had a copy, I knew by now that I really, unfortunately, needed a copy I could mark up and highlight, given the nature of this course. The Kindle copy was an option, however it did not have real page numbers, which makes it a no-no in the course.

(Let me interrupt myself here to state that although that was made clear, people in my class still continue to read Kindle and Nook versions of the texts, quote from them, and then say “I don’t have a page number – sorry!” or badmouth the Kindle because supposedly you can’t mark or highlight in it. I feel like screaming, “If you don’t know how to use the device, it should be confiscated!”)

Anywho, so at the beginning of this week Ryan and I went on our first overnight trip sans toddler. Begrudgingly, I had written on my shopping list The Life of Pi. I planned to purchase it at Half Price Books, paying as little as possible at this point in my procrastination.

…and of course they did not have it.

So where did that leave me? Standing in the very front of a Barnes & Noble, purchasing The Life of Pi from the bestseller stand for a freakishly inflated $15.99. I about choked.

But the worst part is that I had to be that person, who most likely saw the movie, thought it was ah-mazing, and just had to buy the book. The cashier probably rolled his eyes at me, thinking I was just like everybody else.

And that bothers me.

But it’s probably what I deserve. The Life of Pi is not growing any fonder to me, I can tell you that.

And then you realize, “I am the whitest person alive.”

It’s called a boxelder bug, and it’s on my freaking nerves, to put it lightly. I now live in the house in which I grew up, and I can always remember these little things being in our house when it got cold outside, but this year it has gone to a whole new level. Usually the bugs come inside for a week or two and then the cold kills them all off, but I suppose this crazy Kentucky weather just has not gotten cold enough.

Instead every day Silas and I go on bug hunts where we flush multiple bugs down the toilet. I’m starting to worry about potty training because Silas thinks the toilet is just for bugs. I’m beginning to think nothing of the fact that I wake up at night when them crawling on my face. I look at them meandering on my wall and in my shower and up my leg and just sigh, thinking, “Well, this is my life, I guess, bugs and all.”

The thing is, they are totally harmless. And the other thing is that from the best Ryan can tell from his research, they aren’t going to go away unless we chop down the tree in our backyard which they normally live on. It’s not our property, so that’s probably not going to happen.

So I guess we just all make peace and go on our merry way. This semester in grad school I am taking a course entitled Ecocriticism, which is exactly what it sounds like. Everyone is spending a lot of time talking about how the course is radically changing their views on things, making them reconsider spraying for pests in the garden, etc. etc. etc. I’m not reconsidering anything; I’m just admitting that there’s a war going on in my house and the boxelder bugs are winning. Nature 1 – Me 0.

Such is life.

So a few weeks ago we started our unit on the Harlem Renaissance, and I got the bright idea to give them an assignment in which they must find a song which has the same theme as a Harlem Renaissance poem, analyze the song, and then create a presentation for the class. I was a bit nervous about what would happen.

What happened was some really cool stuff. Of course some of my students missed the mark. Others did fine but just picked songs which I felt like weren’t quite as spot-on as I would have liked. And then I had four students totally blow me away. So, if this interests you as a fan of music and poetry, or if you are a teacher wanting to steal my idea (feel free!) here are the top four contenders. Enjoy!

• The Show Goes On by Lupe Fiasco with Langston Hughes’ “Still Here”
• A Dream by Common with Countee Cullen’s “Incident”
• We are Trayvon by Plies with Claude McKay’s “Rest in Peace”
• 16 @ War by Karina with Langston Hughes’ “Lonesome Place”