So, conferences were from 4-8 last night. It was pretty slow for me until about 4:30, then I was booked solid until the end. Mostly freshman parents, which is par for the course.

I always look forward to as well as dread this time of the year. I do enjoy speaking with parents; most of them have children who are doing well in my class, and so it is a positive conference, albeit not a terribly "helpful" one. Occasionally (though not as often as I'd like), a parent comes in who I really need to see, because their child is not doing well. We talk and sometimes times the parent is surprised at the kid's poor grade, or is completely resigned to the fact that their child is failing most of their classes and there's nothing they can do about it.

There's definitely a correlation between successful students and parents who attend parent-teacher conferences.

So, I do enjoy talking with parents, and usually wind up learning a few things along the way.

On the other hand, PT conferences always reminds me of my experiences with them as a child. Or, more accurately, my lack of experience. My parents (mom) went to my elementary ones because they were scheduled, but once I reached middle school, they were like the aftermath of Christmas morning - not present. When I've asked them about it, they reply, "Well, we didn't have any problems, so we didn't need to go." As if that's the only thing conferences are for.

However, on the bright side of things, I've added one more thing to my list, which I've titled, "Things That I Will Do For My Children That My Parents Never Did For Me, Thus Leaving Me a Deprived, Hollow Shell of a Youth"

4. Attend all parent conferences right up through Graduation.

Why is this Saturday a gloriously, contentment-filled one?

1. Kirby is at a birthday party (till about four o clock).

2. Spencer is downstairs, smitten with a new videogame freshly rented from the movie store.

3. Brent and Elliot are in Ames at an Iowa State football game.

4. It's sunny and 75 degrees outside.

5. Autumn foliage: trees are in brilliant form around here.

6. Having dinner with my parents around five.

7. Minimal papers to grade for school.

8. Found a cute pair of black dress shoes for Kirby on sale for $15.

9. Had a nice, leisurely lunch out with Spencer.

10. House is relatively clean.

11. Laundry is relatively caught up.

12. Basement is back in order after August's rainwater fiasco.

13. Short week at school coming up due to conferences.

*sigh*

So, I'm sitting here at a local coffeehouse with WiFi, trying to figure out how the hell I'm going to go back home.

Shall I start at the beginning?

Relatively ordinary weekend. We went camping, and had a miserable time trying to hook and up and pull out this morning, due to the torrential rain. However, life goes on...we survive - arrive home, put on dry clothes, and order pizza for lunch.

And then I begin the onerous chore of the laundry. There's mountains of it. I can never get caught up before another ten pounds comes my way. Camping multiplies the laundry amount by five...at least. On top of that is the list of regular housekeeping tasks, like feeding the cat, putting away folded laundry, picking up the floors, vacuuming floors sweeping floors...God, it is incredible the amount of time I spend on the floors.

Anyway. We all have our little tasks to do, but because I care the most, I do the most. I also have papers to grade, but that is besides the point. All I know is that this is Sunday, my last day before the driving back into the whirlwind that is my job. To my mind, I have done nothing but spend it servicing the people I live with.

But then - aha! I notice my newest Netflix arrival has come. "Out of Africa" with Meryl Streep and Robert Redford. It occurs to me that I will perhaps be able to relax tonight with aforementioned movie. Maybe it will change my life.

We sit down to a light-hearted dinner of roast beef sandwiches and Munchies (courtesy of Spencer Nelson's mind). The movie begins, and I am enthralled quickly. Brent seems to be so, and the kids, ehhh, they're not so much. Before too long, my youngest son is jumping on the couch and pretty soon, his feet connect with my head.

And we finally get to the climax of the story. I freak out. I completely went ballistic on my family. I was terrible. I was "fuck this, fuck that" all over the place. I screamed at each of my kids and my husband before grabbing my purse and leaving the house.

*sigh* I'm sure this will lower the fabulously high opinion my dear readers had of me. But I'm sitting here now, wondering what the hell I do now. I know I was wrong. I was wrong in like ten-hundred-thousand ways. And I know I should go home right now and grovel on hands and knees and tell my family that I am SO REALLY VERY SORRY.

But, truth of the matter is, I suck at that kind of thing. Most of the time I am able to ride my high horse with a fair amount of righteousness. I am able to shrug off most personal discomfort with a flippant, devil-may-care attitude. I don't beg, grovel, apologize unless it's life or death. And even then...

But my daughter was crying. Terrified. What the hell is my problem?? And in light of the events of this last week, there are some without certain members of their families...and what they wouldn't give to be in my shoes. To have one more night or day or hour, even.

I think I'll just leave off here, because I have no more words.

What an evening.

We dropped the kids off at my mom's house shortly before 7 pm, thinking we'd be back in thirty minutes.

It took us forty-five minutes just to get to the front door of the funeral home. Another thirty minutes got us around to talk to the family. It was close to 9 o'clock by the time we got home from my mom's.

Naturally, the whole thing was sad. It's one thing when an 89-year-old grandma dies of lung cancer after a lengthy illness...there's almost a sense of relief at the visitation and people throw around phrases like "she's in a better place." However, what do you say to a family who's lost a 37-year-old son/brother/father of two small children in a horribly tragic car accident?

A "I'm so sorry for your loss" seems somewhat plastic and superfluous. Yet, it was about the best we could offer.

The family was just superimpressive, though. They thanked everyone for coming and seemed to take comfort in the number of people that thought highly enough of their son/brother/husband to give their last goodbyes.

This is my little bit of life advice for you all. Live your life, so that the line of people at your visitation stretches out the door, to the street, and beyond.

Well. A sad post today.

Two things have happened around here recently that really have just about taken my breath away and made me realize I live a pretty blessed life.

First, one of Kirby's good friends is named Belle. Belle's mom got a job this year teaching Special Ed. at the elementary school. It's been a rough time for her, with adjusting to the kids, and her mentor is not the most welcoming either. They've also just moved into a new house about two weeks ago. Earlier this last winter, she and her husband were having troubles, and had separated, but are now back together.

Anyway, I've talked with the mom a bit, trying to reassure her things will work out, etc. Also, our kids are good friends, having sleepovers, etc. However, both of our sons are on the same flag football team, and the mom has not been there this week at all. When I asked Belle where her mom was, she said, "she's in the hospital, because she just started crying." I don't know what that means, I just know I haven't seen the mom at football practice all week.

Brent and I were talking about it last night, and I expressed how lucky we've been in just about everything we've done. Everything HAS worked out well for us, and that's why I was so quick to offer Belle's mom that same advice. Of course, I can offer that advice so flippantly because it's worked for me.

Second, I got a call this morning from one of my colleagues that a middle school English teacher had been killed in a car crash last night. This man was one of the nicest, most outgoing guys around, and has two little ones (2nd and kindy). I'd actually just spent all day yesterday with him, working on Lang. Arts curriculum. I'd actually just been in the middle of an email to him this morning when I got the call. This was the guy I'd bumped into at the grocery store last Friday morning, where he and his kids were doing their "Friday morning ritual", buying donuts to eat on the drive to the bus stop.

And now. Gone. Like that.

Hug your kids. Let the people you love know you do. They could be gone tomorrow.