Are You EVEN Married?

There has been a common theme at camp this week with the questions the children have been asking me about my life.
"Ms. Sadie, how many kids do you have?"
"Well I don't have any kids."
"WHAT? REALLY? Why not?!!

On two separate occasions one or more of the campers have asked if I have any children, if I am married and when I'm planning on doing both of these things. At first I was kind of taken aback. But as I thought about it more I realized that they can't really understand my age or where I am in my life in comparison to their parents or other adults. To them, I am a grownup. Which is weird because I barely consider myself a grownup.

In the past year, two dear of friends of mine have gotten married. One of them is now a family with three children under the age of eight and the other has no real plans for kids. I told the children who asked me about my own plans that I have pretty much decided to be child free. I did not tell them my reasoning mostly because I wanted to keep the conversation short, but being around kids 28-ish hours a week, the subject is unsurprisingly on my mind quite a bit. I get to observe lots of different kinds of parenting skills (or lack thereof) and experience the most well adjusted kids the children with a host of issues.

I have felt for a long time that my choice to be child-free is final. But recently I have discovered that having a kid wouldn't be the worst thing that could ever happen. I still have no urge to have children that share my DNA but I find myself considering adoption if I ever found myself in the right situation. I believe that thinking about all of this is good for me, but I am constantly reminding myself that nothing is set in stone and I will always be allowed to change my mind. But, for now at least, I still agree with my decision to be child-free.

I read this article at Jezebel a little while ago and have been thinking a lot about women having the choice to have kids or not and how those women are perceived and can be discriminated against. Check it. 

The Magic That Happens at Camp

Summer camp at the Portland Waldorf School has begun. I was excited to start working but when I arrived at the school on Monday morning I had no idea just how happy I was to be there. I hadn't taught since mid May and was anxious to get back.

There is something about working at the Waldorf school that makes me so happy it is nearly indescribable. It's somewhat a feeling of worth and the satisfaction anyone gets from doing something they are good at. But really it's the magic of children. I have never wanted my own children and, for the most part, still feel that way (although lately the baby clock I didn't know I had has been tugging at my arm). I love the problem solving. It's so simple in actuality but at the same time it can be so difficult for them work out their emotions. The hardest thing the past couple days has been social obstacles that some of the children are not used to.

This summer there are kids from other schools (local Waldorf, Charter, and Montessori schools). This can always present challenges simply because they do not know each other and, while both receiving alternative education, have had vastly different experiences. We have one 5 or 6 year old girl who has been having an especially difficult time. She used to have seizures up until very recently. She is a high anxiety child and becomes upset very easily. For example, just before snack time today she very loudly stated that she HATES fruit salad (our snack for the day). She became very agitated and was yelling repeatedly that "it sucks!" and that she will not eat it. She was also shaking and nearly in tears. I think because of her past problems with seizures, her anxiety but about unfamiliar situations is extremely heightened. She is very hard to calm down and if anyone speaks to her she begins yelling at them. Most of the time a teacher needs to take her out of the room and explain to her several times that she does not need to eat the fruit salad. I was with her today. Having never really experienced a child like this, and knowing it would pass, I took it as a learning opportunity and a chance to more deeply understand her issues.

We were able to join the group again and sit at the table calmly and politely drinking our own "plain" water. It was an interesting and seriously rewarding (corny, I know) experience. I have not had any formal training as a teacher and everything I've learned has been through experience and the observation of teachers I have worked with. I can not thank them enough for all of their advice and gentle guidance. Waldorf is were I want to be, where I am heading, and where I want to stay. I am so grateful for the opportunity I have been given. (Funny stories coming soon!)

I Did It Again

I changed the name of this thing again. It seems that the name deters me from writing. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. I'm also changing the format a little bit. Just so that I don't have to start every post writing directly to Portland.
And that's that.

Today I was thrown another curve ball in my life. About my vehicle. Oh dear, hear come the water works. You can judge me all you want about me crying over my truck but it's useless. It breaks my heart. My heart is breaking into so many little pieces that if I had a quarter for every piece, there would be no problem and he would be restored to his full functioning GLORY.

I should back up and tell the whole story here.
I went to the Evergreen State College class of 2011 graduation to see a few of my dearest friends walk across that rented stage and shake hands with people they had never met before. I decided to leave Friday night after the ceremony and a lovely potluck. It was late. I left Olympia around 11pm. I have done that drive up and down I-5 countless times and nothing bad has ever happened. The bad things usually just happen when I'm actually IN Olympia.

Anyway, almost exactly between PDX and Oly, a very loud pop came from under my hood on the drivers side. I start to slow down and loose all acceleration abilities. Quickly, on go the hazard lights and the right shoulder becomes my safe haven. Turning off my car I take a deep breath and check all my gauges (those that work). I had just put gas in and added a quart of oil. Everything looked normal. I took out my little flashlight and looked around in the engine to see if I could spot anything that I knew was out of place. I looked on the pavement to check for leaking fluids. Nothing. I got back in the cab and taking another deep breath, cranked the ignition. The engine was turning over. That was good. I still had all my electrical power. Curious. I looked at my clock and where I was (no off ramp, no lights to a town and no mile marker) and started to freak out. I called AAA. They said it would be an hour. I called my dad. He wasn't really much help but I pretty much just called to let him know what was up. Then I called my best friend, officially sobbing by this point. She is pretty good at calming me down. Somehow even then, I knew this was the beginning of the end for my great little red rust bucket.

I waited for the tow truck and got a $275 ride for me and my truck. He took me to my very wonderful and trusted mechanic Reborn Automitive. They are closed on Saturday and Sunday so I just chilled out and waited until Monday for the dreaded call. Three days later I heard. Ignition coil. Bad news. Toyota only made this specific type for 3 model years ('78,'79, and '80). More bad news. The dealer of course doesn't make them anymore and can't get them. Even more bad news. My wonderful mechanic said he would look around and see what he could find.

Now, a month later almost to the day, every wrecking yard in the Metro area has been called, the internet scoured and reasonable retro-fitting ideas exhausted. I have been avoiding the call all week to check in but today, I forced myself to do it. It was what I was afraid of. Big Rusty is seemingly done for. I'm out of options.

Tears.
Deep breaths.
More tears.

After my breakdown and some talking with my Dad and best friend I have come to accept that this is fine. I can deal with this. I have the money for a new car and I will be better off because I won't be stressed out about my truck breaking down all the time, completely debilitating me. I have also come the accept that I am not a bus person. I REALLY hate taking the bus. So a new car it is.

It just so happens that when I was walking yesterday I came across a late '80's Volvo 240 wagon. I stopped to look at it. I liked it. Very strange. Three months ago I would not have noticed it. So I have decided that is direction I am heading. Upgrading about 10 years and doing my research, which is proving to be fruitful and also impressive. I have 5 jobs. Two of them involve being in charge of children. I can't be late. I can't break down unexpectedly. I will not have it. And so far I am being convinced by the forums and research I'm doing that this '80's soccer mom car just might be the one for me. It's nuts, I am aware.

It's hard to be an adult who is still in so many ways a child but I'm learning. And trying really hard to accept mistakes as they happen and listen to real grown-ups advice. They know what they are talking about for a reason.

Last Thursday

Dear Portland,
I went to sell my wares at Alberta Streets Last Thursday event which I have been attending for years. You all gave me something I suppose I had heard before from friends and family but not repeatedly from complete strangers. You told me over and over again how beautiful my work is. All different sides of you told me this. It gave me a confidence and pride about my leather work (and stamping) that I wasn't really sure I would ever be able to muster. I thank you for that.

I must say though, I wish you had deeper pockets, "left over money", and kept your promises of a return purchase. I know, I know, I got my hopes up. But come on, help a girl out!

Talk soon.