Tag: life

Posted on in echelon, fitness, goals, life, Peloton

Life in the Saddle

I have chosen to be an annoying beginning Peloton blogger giving you my every thought and sweat droplet. No. There are enough of those out in the universe in their super cute matching outfits and sparkly persona. They give me hope and an outward reason to get in that saddle. However, my challenge is to my myself, 100 rides before my 58th (April 19th) and my views are coming from a sense of reality along with my Amazon Lulumon dupes always black for that slimming look, ha. No. Black because they go with everything I am madly pulling out of my drawers as I make the mad dash down the hall from the work room to the fitness haven.

No personal pics of my rolls. I am vain and try to live in a vision of ten years ago. The truth would not set me free. Anyway aren’t you tired of those and doubt the reality of the before and after magical wand. No. Ok, just me. My looks are roundish and a cross between Ava Gardner, Molly Ringwald and Captain Kangaroo. Back to the roundish. Not completely. I have great shoulders and wrists and enough grey hair to be one of those instgrammers showing their magical tresses and pretending it does not age us. It does. But I love my grey and my freckles.

So, follow my dribble as I will keep it real. The pain, the dread, the peloton high, the laughter. All of it during these days of challenge because my sport days (former figure skater) are long behind me and my cycle reason is weight loss, health, and just to enjoy the ride.

Note: I am on ride fifteen with five other peloton classes. It is a start and tomorrow is another day.

Happy Riding! Yogadivamama1234

Posted on in 2020, life

The Year of Play

In 2021 I am gonna play. The simple definition of play is to engage in activity for enjoyment and recreation rather than a serious or practical purpose. Sounds much better than being all grown up and oh so serious every single day. I have done that long enough so I deserve a break. We all do.

Now, truth be told I have been adulting so long that play is foreign. Over the holidays I was reintroduced to the concept by my grandson. At first, I just played any game he desired but I did it as an adult. Not the same. As an adult we get bored, we worry about toy pieces, where the toys will be housed, is this a good toy for development etc. It is exhausting. So I left my reality over the holidays and entered his fantastical experience.

All time and space stopped when I looked into his eyes and did whatever he wanted and together we made each game or activity even bigger. Stuffed animals became babies taking a nap. Who cares, if we are tardy for anything. Diapers were needed on the adult view of stuffed animals which were obvious babies without their needed accoutrements. Unfortunately, my son had no more bottles in the house, as we were ready to go to the next level. Note to self, send bottles. ABC games became a place where my voice and voices brought laughter. Paw Patrol anything was just over the top fun with the focus on the chase to solve the next problem. The mailbox in Blues Clues house became a series of letters to my nugget. Note to self, send real mail. It brings joy. I became immersed. I laughed. I forgot about the reality of life. I found my smile, my true one behind each game, hug, hand holding experience. Oh and my laugh. I found my real laugh. Not the giggle at cuteness. A belly laugh that brought tears of joy. That one. It exists. 2020 did not rip it away from me forever and it was a pleasure to have it back. Now obviously, without being checked into a pysch ward I must leave our little fantasy world and tackle daily life but my vow is to always find a bit of play in any activity to take away the mundane and bring the needed joy that 2020 obviously sapped from my soul into 2021. I will dress up more, wear more make-up (even under my mask), wear the good jewelry, and eat off the good china, well at least a couple times but I will drink my champagne out of our good crystal that is locked away like a prisoners. They will be free in 2021. My dinners will be more varied, and while I hate cooking, I will delight in my hubs appreciation. I will sing more and loudly during my new found love of spinning and will not beat myself up if I am exhausted and can’t get on the saddle. Instead, I will do yoga. Life is short. I will doodle in color and write my class lessons to always include play. My virtual students deserve to find their play as their days in 2020 have been met with confusion and a world of fear.

So onto my year of play. The year of laughter, smiles, hugs, and pure enjoyment that is priceless and found inside of every child, and if you look closely, within yourself. My challenge to you is to bring out your play, in whatever form works for you, as it has not been completely lost. Trust me once you find it you will never ever let it go!

Happy New Year!

Posted on in 2020, echelon, life, Peloton

2020…A Positive Spin

To title a blog with 2020 leads to many obvious thoughts that we all have running through our heads. 2020 leads you to believe that this is just another blog or inner rambling (my personal style) noting displeasure or vast inner growth that the ground hog year of years has brought through frustration or obvious great introspection through a varity of the free or the sneaky paid apps.I tried. The testing began with the hope that each was the magic pill to my distaste for exercise but my desire for fitness. We all have our 2020 stories, but I do not want to spend the next week reliving 2020, do you? This hell is still not over and our recovery both economically and mentally will take time. Do I really need to send one more blog into the atmosphere about the obvious. I think not. My rambling today has everything and nothing to do with 2020 or the P word. It is about my new obsession, another P word. Peloton. Which is everything 2020 without the horror. Read on.

Now, I am a teacher. So this is my version of Peloton light. Work with me. Buying this was a process not a whim and a charge card. Would I have preferred that ease? Sure. We all would, but I am saving for my yacht so frugality counts. My riding choice is Echelon but their monthly rate and technical irritation led me to the Peloton app. For $11.99 a month and a company that offered (I missed this boat) three months free are my kind of people. They are woke on every level which keeps me in touch with humanity or the inner liberal loop. These thoughts (not harmful to my ways) are a nice balance to my traditional views on life. In my world not everyone gets a trophy. Good we are clear. I love my P, but now I am cheater who is having sleepless nights due to my scandalous ways. I am an E rider with a P app. This should not be, and like others in this dilemma it was not my intention. However, it is love and it works my champagne tastes and pasta budget. Living in this new framework is hard for a rule follower like myself. But until my body and my yacht filled bank account is ready for a shopping spree, the entire Peloton trigger needs to stay in partial mode. I am who I am. My time at home has found me trying a variety of fitness apps but none like this. The Peloton way is an odd feeling of friendship, community, and instruction with the greatest blend of music along with free psychology sessions. Smart. They hit my needs with talented cyclists/trainers who are glammed, scripted, and ready to hit their mark.

As a beginner, all the trainers make me feel motivated to get on the bike everyday. I have not done “everyday” since I gave up my pricey yoga studio life. Home exercise has been my mainstay since I departed the studio and a constant battle that my body was not winning. Excuses are easily found around every corner in my world. Work, cleaning a bathroom, that closet. Check, check, check and check. Until now. I get on my E everyday and tune into P between 4-6pm. I chose this time as is the end of my workday and my commitment to myself. Even on my days off from school and the weekends, this is my time. This new regimen requires finding the watch, setting up the casting P to my TV and sinking with E for stats. Cheapness comes at a cost. Simple this is not. Excuses still call my name but once in the saddle and the instructor starts at Act 1 Scene 1, I smile brightly and start into my journey that brings me a new found desire for consistency with a side of counseling and joy that in the long run will replace my thoughts about my cheating ways.

Posted on in granparent life, life

Hugs and Stuff

Tomorrow is my hubs birthday. I could shower him with praise, but I am not. He will not notice and frankly what could I say that I do not tell him every single day. Nothing. Besides let’s leave the saccharine sappiness where it belongs, to the young who are newly in love. We have something better than the drippings of sweet love and adoration. After thirty-two years together we got the prize of prizes…A grandchild.

A sweet two year old that we hover over, kiss boo boos, drink countless cups of pretend tea, spoil, sock money away for his future, and swoon when we are hugged, reaches for our hands, or during this last visit he asked us to get in the car with him…as home was not his current desire. His sweetness ❤ reminds us of our kid long ago. Who, like all of us has outgrown the sweet innocence we all eat up to feed our needy souls. The unfortunate reality of adulthood is that it robs us of the carefree love and kindness that the youth have in spades and the addition of grandchildren remind us again of our roots and our true needs. But I digress.

Back to the title…Today, the hubs turns 56 and today we celebrate with a socially distant football extravaganza. The real party, however, was a few days ago when we had a couple hours of uninterrupted playtime, hugs, cuddles, and little person banter. Plus our big bonus is always watching the kid be a dad. The best dad and his calling as his inner-child and sweetness comes pouring out again just as they did years ago. These are moments we wish we could bottle and was the hubs true birthday moment. So no matter what I buy, bake, or arrange birthdays are never the same anymore without his buddy.

Happy 56 Grandpa!

Posted on in life

Its Exhausting Being Me

Epilepsy is the one modern mystery left to man and an exhausting condition on its best days. Please note this author ain’t complaining. Not my style. And I know I am lucky. I have it all advanced degrees, career, driver’s license, and one kid. That was all we were granted and probably the reason I teach and have unnatural desire to organize toys, anyone’s toys. Its not you or your skills it is my own inner need. My mothering was done before my time. I was always meant for more. So if you got toys, give me a call. Or if you need additional mothering as I am sure my kid would like a break. He is a good sport.

My story like others begins out of true fear. No one teaches epilepsy in school. Diabetes, yes. Epilepsy, no. My first experience was riding on a city bus to my figure skating lesson, oh yes. I was sporty too. A woman burst on the bus and screamed, “I am epileptic move.” Now, I was eleven and currently experiencing auras on a daily basis in quiet fear. While I thought the declaration was over-the-top, she scared me for many reasons so I moved the hell away. I got off the bus and walked the rest of the way to the rink in tears. I knew I would be that woman. Better dressed, less vulgar. But that was me. With every step towards the rink and a coach who had already called my grandfather for my being tardy I had apologies coming to many but mostly to myself for my living in fear.

As the story goes my boughts of no speech continued. Each getting longer and longer but my fear and lies covered them up. Not well. But my ability to focus on the world around me caught everyone off guard as once it passed no one could tell the difference. Silent periods continued to grow longer with each passing episode but my odd ability to jump back into the conversation, with increased slurred speech, worked. I chalked everything off to fatigue and exhaustive days between school and the rink. Others, just shook their heads and labeled me as a rebellious teen. The game was exhausting as was the daily fear of what was around the corner and who would see it and when would my academy award winning acting breakthrough to the obvious secrets I was keeping. I was scared.

My first big seizure was in a bathroom. I just fell, seized alone, and bit off my tongue. Just clumsy right? Yup. Got a week off of school, lots of rest, ice cream, and my game was extended. Not even EMTs felt I needed hospitalization. My grandparents became like hawks circling their prey and waiting for a misstep. They knew. I knew. We all buried the truth as who doesn’t want a perfect kid. And it was such a heavy badge to wear and at that time late 70’s not one with honor.

A week later. The curtain came down on my show. The seizure was witnessed and hospitalization followed. Now, I knew what the tests would show. My grandparents kept talking in hushed tones of C words but I told them they had nothing like that to worry about. I was right but the doctors made my diagnosis like a death sentence, meds, no driving ever, no kids, university too taxing and on and on and on. My grandparents listened with tears streaming down their faces. As soon as the doctor left I looked at them and said. “Whatever he said, we are not doing.” Let’s get these meds and get the fuck out of here.” I got a life to live, and I am gonna live! My grandfather laughed and my grandmother almost scolded me but beating the big C was good enough for her. I promised to take my meds, stop driving for a year, but I would go to college and I was going to stage a sit- in hospital style until they agreed. They did. I was sprung and my first course of treatment began.

My story starts there, fourty-seven years ago. Today is a bad day. My mind scrambles into a million pieces trying to find the calm my brain needs to slow it down and focus on anything that is not repetitive in sound or feeling. On days like this I write. I listen to music, I do yoga, I watch movies. Anything to remove my brains overdrive and fixations. My sensory overload is at its max. Thus, hearing daily sound in stereo. The toaster, the baggies opening for breakfast goodies, the refrigerator door, the butter opening and closing…the insanity is my sanity on bad days and the view of life it brings me is priceless. Loud, priceless, and a gift that took me years to embrace and overcome the looks from an uneducated public not understanding that it is not a sentence of death or oddity but one of heightened life.

Posted on in education

Summer Countdown

July 19th. There is no true answer for our state (Arizona) in sight but many options that boggle the mind and put constraints on the families we serve.

The dawn of a new era of education is around the corner. Teachers wait, parents wait, kids wait. In the beginning, long, long ago (March) I did feel the lockdown and online education was about safety with a mix of true panic. The schools, to their own admission, did not handle true valid education well, we were more like the Titanic, just trying to survive with few getting to shore. While teachers spent hours a day attempting to teach, it was utter chaos on many levels due to the newness of the word lockdown, fear, frustration, no internet for many families coupled with language barriers. My Spanish improved, but not by much.

I still miss my kids I stopped seeing in March. They lost out on their 8th grade year but as they march onto 9th grade their memories of 8th grade losses will fade as their new lives begin. As a teacher, these losses are engrained in my soul with the only bright spot on my horizon my next classroom and my new beginnings. To me, every year is a fresh start, from decor to lessons. I love change and frankly, no class has ever been the same in eighteen years. The art of lesson creation and relationships with my students are my strengths. Both may be lost, as we still wait for our final orders from the talking heads that truly run education with money and politics at the forefront. Kids seem to be lost in the shuffle and this is more apparent this year.

In Arizona, many districts have pushed back real in-person learning until October. What will they gain, what will they lose? That is the question? We are now prepared with fancy platforms and bitmojis, but we are forgetting the parents needs and the social aspect of learning. For what? Safety, money, fear? Other districts, depending on your view, are either brave or crazy, will go forward with in-person learning with choices. My school falls into that category. Frankly, I feel the choice is empowering for all involved, as just forcing parents into another three months of homeschool light sentence is one that teachers are beating the drum for but parents have not seemed to weigh in yet, we will see their reaction come fall, through the registration numbers. Parents will march or stay put based on the obvious economic constraints, the difficulty of online education and true grasping of the material and the social nature of the classroom. Or they will stay due to loyalty to the school and fear of the disease. We do not know.

So, this blog has found a purpose. My writing will take you on my 2020-2021 journey filled with the realities of the continued saga of Covid-19 and the educational disaster we are facing in the coming years if we continue to be hold kids and parents hostage

Eventually, my musings will morph into an ebook based on true stories that share a glimpse into the real world of public education in a time where flexibility will be key.

Yes, it”s me.