Wedding Weekend

It has arrived. And, it has passed. The moment that I had been waiting for since graduation day from Livingston Highschool occurred this past Saturday night. I attended my first "highschool wedding." A wedding in which both the bride and groom not only graduated from Livingston High School (Class of 2002), but have been dating since that time.


As expected, the wedding was pretty much the best time ever. And, who doesn't love dancing and drinking with their childhood friends? This particular wedding had such a special vibe. Every vow, speech and story that was told, ached with history and deep connections.

However, this wedding taught me one very important lesson: Well, actually it taught me two. The first is this: Wearing a dress that JUST fits you is only a good thing at the beginning of the night. By the night's end, I was carrying a food and alcohol baby in my stomach. I'm sure this looked quite attractive.

But, more importantly, I learned this: If you are single at a wedding, you have one major disadvantage. You will be sat at the singles table, otherwise known as table: miscellaneous. The Livingston Couples table was the table to my right. The majority of my highschool friends were sat here. (This is the table of my LHS friends who are either dating each other, or brought someone with them to the wedding). My table consisted of two of my highschool guy friends, and random friends and cousins of the bride and groom. Aka...table miscellaneous. Sure, we barely sat. And yes, we even took a couple of table shots. And, we even kind of became table besties by the end of the night. But, I have learned this: If you don't have a date at a wedding, you will be sat with the miscellaneous randoms. Amen.

This Will Make You Feel Old

Mmhmm, my friends know me pretty well. I woke up on Sunday morning, after remembering virtually nothing from Saturday night. (From how I left my debit card at the bar, to the cab ride back to my apartment, to how I woke up naked (by myself)--spooning my clothing from the night before). Ahhh yes. It feels good to be twenty-seven.

Upon my wake-up, I checked my blackberry. Hollaa at 2011. I saw that I had an e-mail from Jay, one of my college besties, and former facebook husband. (No hard feelings). The e-mail read, "This made me think of you." And, next to it a link. If ever, there was anything nearer and dearer to my heart, it is 1990's nostalgia, and how old 90's stars are in today's time. Some could call this an obsession of mine. And, they would be right. I hope you enjoy this link as much as I did. And yes: if you were born in the 80's, this will make you feel old.


The link is not working, but please google: 40 things that will make you feel old

(This list is amazing).

Five Years Ago...

Five years ago today, I woke up early on a Sunday morning. I put on a white dress, and over it, a long white gown. I tried to make my hair do something that went with a flat board cap. I put on my sandals, and opened my front door to find my family with flowers in their arms. Five years ago today, I graduated from college, from The University of Rhode Island. May 21, 2006 was a day that my friends and I had dreaded for four years, and it had arrived. And now, here I am. Five years later. Try as I might, I could not imagine what life after college would bring me. And, I can't say that I've been disappointed.

Earlier this week was one of my best friend from college's birthday. He turned twenty-eight. We met each other on the very first day of freshman year. (Friendship at first sight). I was eighteen years old and he was nineteen. It's funny, I always consider the friends that I grew up with, as the ones that I've known for years. And, it's only hitting me now, that my college friends have also become the friends that I've know for years. Sure, my college friends missed out on my five year awkwardly hideous phase. (Thank God). But, still...to know someone for nine years, is an awful long time.

Corey (first boy college bestie) and I were talking about how crazy it is that we are really on our way to becoming grown ups! I told Corey that I like it here in my twenties, I want to stay forever. (Though, I have a feeling I had a similar sentiment about my teens). Corey replied, (and this is a direct quote), "You respond to change with comically poor behavior, Fisher. It's one of your defining characteristics." And, well. I have to agree. But, also I have to disagree. I have come a long way in the last five years. Sometimes, it is really hard to look back and see change within yourself, but thanks to a trained professional, and being born the reflective person that I am, I have learned a great deal about myself in the last few years. And, so I give you my list. Just some of the thing that I have learned over the last five years in my post-college life. Some serious, some silly. All are true.

1. I miss a life where my parents paid for my home, my bills, my food, my clothing, and my travel expenses. I miss it every single day.

2. You do NOT get paid your salary in full upon signing for a job.

3. Disappointments happen. Both big, and small. (It seems for me--these disappointments occur especially with da boyzz). I've learned to let myself feel sad for a little while, but then it's time to stop feeling sorry for myself, and move on. My spirit is far more resilient than I give credit for.

4. As Leona Lewis once said, It will all get better with time.

5. Experiencing things that put you out of your comfort zone is a good thing. It's actually a great thing. It will challenge you in ways you hadn't imagined.

6. If you run out of toilet paper, paper towels and napkins. Old wife beaters and socks are not an appropriate substitute.

7. When Becky, Amelia and I travel together, it is always the best time of my life.

8. Going home with a drunken stranger is not the smartest or the safest idea.

9. Your apartment building is not a dorm. It is not a good idea to drunkenly hook up with your next door neighbor who you've met twice. It will be awkward when you see each other in passing.

10. Drinking more than two nights in a row has become quite challenging for me. (The college me would not be proud).

10. It is eighty-four percent certain that if BGbabe has her camera, and we are in a women's bathroom together--there will be a picture taken of me, from underneath the stall, mid pee.

11. Going to bed before ten pm on a week night feels dang good.

12. I am extremely lucky that my parent sent me to camp seventeen summers ago. My life would quite literally never have been the same.

13. Sticks and stones may break my bones, and so will large bar bathroom doors.

14. You can throw up from drinking too much, even if you are hooked up to an IV.

15. It's perfectly okay to take a couple of shots before going on a first date.

16. Attending a wedding with your highschool friends; might just make for the most fun weekend of your life.

16a. At said wedding, really hilarious combinations of people will hook up with each other.

17.It feels really good when a little kid thanks you for teaching them something that they did not understand.

18. Celebrities don't like when you give them hand written letters at their book signings.

19. I'll never stop loving anything associated with the 1990's. Ever.

20. As Ke$ha once said, "We r who we r." And, so, if I've learned anything--it is this: All we can do is be ourselves, own who we are, and hope that everything else will fall into place.

Just Me, Fatty, and Judy

Well. Here we are! Painting the town red as we celebrated my older brother, Jeremy's 31st birthday on Saturday night! I had to post this picture, seeing as it may be the only photograph taken where Jeremy, Heather and I all have our eyes open. (See! Having no eyes is actually in our genes). Also, if I knew anything about technology and computers, I would post a picture of when the three of us were small. (For nostalgia purposes of course). Love ya, Jer and Heatz!!

Teach

As many of you know, I have been looking for a new job. This next chapter in my life still remains unclear, and I'm not quite sure how it will all work out just yet. What I do know is this: For the first time in my life, the idea of change isn't scaring me. It's exciting me.

On a recent job interview, I was asked to go home and compose a two page essay about why I became a teacher. As I sat staring at my computer screen, I knew what I wanted to say: I love having three months off in the summer, and the ability to leave work at three pm. But, somehow I figured my prospective employer was looking for an answer that touched a little bit deeper. So deeper, I dug. And, this is what I found.

8:24 am. Can I get a drink of water? Is my retainer in the garbage? May I sharpen my pencil? Why does your hair look funny? I got a new puppy! My mom made me take a bath last night!! I can't find my homework. I saw a butterfly on the way to school. Did you know that I was made in Mexico, but borned in Texas?

8:25 am. I am exhausted. I have just been bombarded by eleven eight and nine year olds who do not understand personal space, voice modulation, or that I am barely awake. And still, at 8:25 am on a Monday morning, I would not wish to be anywhere else. (Well, except for maybe my bed). I would not trade my job for any other seemingly glamorous career in the world. I would not trade tying children's shoes, wearing the paper necklaces that they make for me, and receiving the hugs that they give me. I would not trade any of it for peace and quiet on a Monday morning.

When I was a little girl, one of my favorite things to do in my free time was to sit in my room and play school. I could do this for hours at a time. I had an easel set up as my board, and my dolls sat in rows in front of me as my students. I would "take attendance" and send it downstairs to "the office." (The office was my mom). Instead of going to the toy store, I would often ask my mom to take me to the "teacher store." A store which sold everything I dreamed of having in my own classroom one day. Borders for the walls, charts and posters, and plentiful amounts of art supplies.

For as long as I can remember, teaching always felt like something that I wanted to do. When given the opportunity to explain something that I knew and understood, I came alive. As a high school student, I found that the best way for me understand new material was to teach the information to someone else. When I did this, studying became less tedious and I began to enjoy the act of teaching someone else for understanding and meaning.

It was a beautiful spring day, earlier this year. I was outside in the yard with my class. Usually during this time, I sat on a bench with my teaching partner. We would observe our class playing with one another. But, on this particular day, I decided to come in off the bench. The kids were playing tag. I asked them if I could join in. They were more than happy to let me play. As I ran around and played tag with my students, I couldn't help but think to myself, am I really getting paid to have a second chance at childhood?

As I ran, laughed and shrieked along with my students, I overheard one of the girls in my class say to another, "Isn't our teacher the funnest?" It felt like my proudest achievement yet.

I know that teaching is not always about fun. It is about dedication, commitment and hard work. Teaching brings rewarding moments, joyful moments, challenging moments and frustrating moments too. But, when the special moments come, and there are many. I am aware of just how lucky I am to have turned this into my career. This is why I teach. I teach for the moments that may seem small or insignificant to others, but these are the very moments that make difference to me, and to my students.

Spring in Suburbia

When I was in the twelfth grade, a large part of our health curriculum was studying reproduction. (I'm still scarred by the Miracle of Life video). One of the most important assignments we were given, was to carry a "flour baby" around school for two weeks. Thus simulating what it would be like to have an actual child. The entire senior class participated in this assignment. Each senior had to bring in a doll from his or her (or our sibling's) childhood. For the next two weeks, the halls of LHS were cluttered with baby dolls and their attached ten pound bag of flour.

Only one student in the grade would be chosen to receive "twins." A name was selected at random, and that lucky senior had the pleasure of carrying two flour babies, weighing in at twenty pounds, for the duration of the two weeks. Guess who that chosen senior was? Oh, you guessed it! Me. As a high school senior, I weighed just barely 100 pounds. (Oh, how I miss you, high school body). The amount I carried in flour babies was nearly one fifth of my weight. The rule set by our teacher was that if any one was seen being negligent to their child in any way, or left their child unattended, they would fail the project, and possibly fail health class. This meant that if you played after school sports, or had some sort of after school commitment, you would have to arrange for a "baby sitter."

I was getting ready to go to lacrosse practice, one afternoon after school had ended. Lacrosse practice was held on the oval. In front of Livingston High School's majestic landscape is an oval with a track to run and bike on, two baseball fields and a lacrosse field. It was common for students to park their cars around the oval. For many, the oval was a central hang-out. I was getting ready for practice, standing near my car parked across from where practice met. I took my lacrosse stick out of my trunk, and hurled my two flour babies into the trunk of my blue jeep. (R.I.P. Blue Jeep). Just as I was mid-throw of my flour children, my health teacher drove around the oval at the exact same time. Of course, he did. My teacher slowed down and rolled down his window. "I'm going to pretend that I didn't see that, Lauren." Yikes.

What triggered this memory was being home in Livingston today. I went for a run at the oval. It was a beautiful day and the oval was packed with people running, biking and rollerblading. Sometimes, it takes being back home in the suburbs to really appreciate and notice the spring time. In New York City, I know it's the spring by the outdoor tables outside of restaurants, and the pale legs that I see on the subway on my way to work. In the suburbs, spring is certainly hard to miss. There is green everywhere. People are out in their lawns, watering their plants, and children run freely in the streets. Sometimes, it's a welcome change to leave the city, and enter spring in suburbia.

Someone recently pointed out to me that I am a nostalgic person.Hmm...you think? Anyone who has known me for longer than fourteen seconds could tell you that. But, then this person said something that I hadn't heard before. He said, "You must have had a really happy childhood."

It's funny, that comment makes complete sense, and yet--I had never made that connection before. And, it's true. I did have a very happy childhood, filled with very normal things, such as playing with my brother and sister, and staying outside with our neighbors until it grew dark. There were the ice cream trucks that stopped on our street, and the amazing summers that I spent at Camp Schodack. I have two people to thank for much of the happiness of my childhood. And, they are my parents, both who I adore. And, since today is Mother's Day, a special thank you to my mom, my little Mimi Girl, who is not only the best mom a girl could have (No really. She is), but in the last few years she has also become a supportive ear, a confidante and a friend. So, thank you Little Mimi. You da mom.