I make terrible, horrible, no good, very bad coffee. I mean, how hard is it to make coffee? Mine is terrible. TERRIBLE.

My husband says it’s my acidic soul that ruins the coffee. He claims that if coffee is made with love in your heart, it tastes delicious.

Roll. My. Eyes.

Since I make terrible coffee, my husband makes the coffee. He gets it ready each evening and sets the automatic timer to begin brewing the coffee at 5 AM.

It works out for me to be ‘terrible’ at this job. It means I don’t have to do that job. And the coffee is ready when I get out of bed each day.

Today I get up and do not smell any coffee. Hmmmm. I make my way to the kitchen and flip on the light. I do not have my glasses on so I must get close to the coffee pot in order to check it. Nothing. Nada.

I think he must have forgotten to turn it on. So I turn it on. I put away the dishes–and there’s still no coffee (we’ll talk about that burning smell situation later). Hmmmm.

Turns out he didn’t make any coffee on Sunday night. Weird. So I made the coffee. I knew he was on the treadmill and had another 20 minutes before he would finish. I knew that I might be dead by then. So I made the coffee. It’s not that hard.

And he drank it. He didn’t say a word about the taste.

Tonight I asked him if he had made the coffee for tomorrow. Yep. Completely puzzled by my question.

‘Well. You didn’t last night and I made it this morning. AND YOU AREN’T DEAD.’

‘Yet,’ he quips. ‘And forgetting once in 3,000 times isn’t too bad.’




I logged off of 3 social media platforms on December 31. I needed a break. And I found that I was mindlessly scrolling when I could have been reading a book. Or sewing. Or writing. Or just about anything.

My original plan was just to log off in January. Then January became February. Now it’s March. Here I am.

True confessions: I have been on The Facebook twice to check in with my Old Lady Book Club. Got sucked into scrolling. Burned daylight.

I logged on to The Twitter to search for an article I wanted to read and discuss. Did not find the article. Burned daylight.

I have NOT logged on to Instagram. I really like Instagram. I miss it. I don’t miss anything else.

Here’s what happened: I have read 13 books since January 1. My house is cleaner. I finally got out a puzzle for the puzzle table. I sleep better.

I think I got this. #justsayin

Phone Calls


‘What are you doing?’

‘I am reading a book. What are you doing?’

‘Don’t you have anything else to do besides reading a book?’

Yes, Mom. I have a bazillion things that could be done but I am choosing to read a book. There are times when I wish I could just not answer the phone when she calls. But I know that it’s just going to prolong the pain so I just answer. Also, I am trying very hard to show my kids how to handle me with grace and style when I am old and filled with memory loss.

‘I’ve made a decision. I called your uncle today and asked if he would come and pick me up. He did. We went to his house. I was there for four hours. I am going to move in with him. Are you there?’


‘This place is killing my health. I am moving on Saturday.’

‘Have you talked to your son? What did he say about moving? Are you sure, Mom?’

‘I have been calling your brother (it’s really HER SON–but whatevs) for 2 days and he won’t answer my calls. This will be easier for him. He won’t have to come all the way out here to get me. And it will be good for your Uncle. He really needs to lose some weight. And I can pay him to live there. That will help him as well. Do you think it’s a good idea? I took a walk today and it just came to me. I have to move. I hate this place. I am allergic to it.’

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. It’s not a good idea. But if there is one thing I know: I am not able to argue with my mother. It’s no use. I have been her child for 52 years and I have never won any kind of argument with her. Some where along the way….I quit. #justsayin’

Otis Spofford

As I am reading, I can tell the kids know what’s coming. They begin to shift their bodies uncomfortably.  They begin to give each other eyeballs. At the point that it happens, there is a collective intake of 7 year old breath.

Otis cuts Ellen Tebbitts hair.

My  kids are OUTRAGED. Cries of ‘he’s gonna get in big trouble’ and ‘holy smokes! that wasn’t proactive at all’ quickly turn into ‘he better watch it–he’s going to get his comeuppance’ and then….

‘If he did that today, he’d be kicked out of school!!’

Huh. I have spent a ton of time talking about how Otis Spofford takes place in the 1950’s and how things were different.

For example, Otis and most of his friends walk to school but not very many of us walk to school. Also, Otis stays home after school by himself while he mother is teaching dance.

As Otis is chasing Ellen and Austine to school each day, my kids said that wouldn’t happen now because what he is doing is called bullying.

At one point, he loses a friends football and has to earn money to replace the ball.  My kids were pretty sure that their parents would just pay for a new ball. I’m not sure I agree with them–they’ve got pretty decent parents so I think they would have to pay.

At what point has a book outlived its life expectancy?  Is there a life expectancy for stories? I love Otis Spofford.  He’s my kind of kid–spunky, independent and just ornery enough to be likable–or lovable if you’re the teacher. But should I be reading it aloud to my kids?

I’m not sure.  #justsayin’


‘Mrs. Hays, do you wear pajamas?’

‘Why yes I do. Do you?’


Teeheeing ensues.


Oh my.

Pretty hard to take that dad seriously when I see him at the grocery store–or anywhere for that matter. #justsayin’


I read romance novels.

I have a thing for Michael Buble’.

I eat fruit snacks.

I have not eaten chili since January 1998. Not even one time.

I loved soap operas as a kid. In college, I set my schedule up so I wouldn’t miss The Young and The Restless.

I am extremely annoyed by poor table manners.

I feel like undergarments were invented by the devil.

I always knew I would be a teacher.

My mom has Alzheimers and it is HARD.

I was the tallest person in my grade until 4th grade when a boy caught me–and passed me.

I am a pencil snob. Ticonderogas or bust.

I binge watch TV shows on ‘ The Neckflicks’ as my school kids call it. If you haven’t seen season 1 of Northern Rescue, I highly recommend it.

I do love me some Baldwin Brothers. #justsayin’

It’s Going Down

My husband is a good sport when it comes to paint color on the inside of our house. He has never told me no to a color. His motto is ‘paint is cheap’ so 15 years ago when I wanted the dining room painted red, we went for it.

This is the first room we painted when we bought the house 15 years ago. We had no idea what we were doing. NO IDEA. And we did a terrible job. We have lived with it for 15 years.

So much repair work. Spackling. Sanding. Covering the red with a fresh new coat of much lighter color.

It’s been a good run, Red. See you around. #justsayin’


As we are sitting at the rainbow table (aka–kidney shaped table), the discussion took a strange turn. This is where you insert your surprised emoji face–they are first graders. They are 7. All conversations are strange.

There is a group of us at the table. Two boys, our high school aide, two girls and me. As I begin to hone in on the girls conversation, I hear the dreaded words…..’That’s a boyfriend.’


‘That’s a boyfriend. I am going to have one someday.’

My head spins off and I begin to speak very quickly.

‘You can have a boyfriend when you graduate from college. COLLEGE. Right, J? You can have a boyfriend when you graduate from college. Same goes for girlfriends–COLLEGE.’

J, my aide, plays right along with me. ‘Oh yes. Boyfriends are for after college.’ She’s totally lying here. The girl goes through ’em like they are water.

At this point, a little boy says that he’s not going to college. That you don’t have to go to college to have a good job. A whole conversation ensues about college.

Finally, the second little boy pipes up. ‘You have to go to college AND graduate to have a good job. You do not want to HAVE to work at Wendy’s your whole life.’

Discussion Arguing happens about how much fun it would be to work at Wendy’s. They are 7, folks.

The second little boy waits for a moment as the discussion winds down before he speaks…..and then, this:

‘No. You have to go to college so you don’t HAVE to work at Wendy’s. College give you choices. You get to choose where you work, where you live and what kind of car you drive. College equals choices.’

Mic drop. #justsayin’

Lip Dub

‘It’s Lip Dub week!!!’

‘We are pumped up for the Lip Dub!!’

‘Do you know we’re having a Lip Dub on Friday???’

So I don’t know if you know this but WE’RE HAVING A LIP DUB ON FRIDAY.

It’s Wednesday. Wow. My kids are beyond excited for this Lip Dub project. We are supposed to line the hallway near our room, wear colorful or crazy clothes, and cheer silently(emphasis on the silent). As I am talking with the kids, I think hmmmmm….I wonder if they know what a lip dub is……..we are first graders and this will be our first experience with a lip dub… I jump off the cliff……

‘Friends, can you tell me what a lip dub is?’ Crickets.

‘Just raise your hand if you think you might know.’ Again, crickets. No hands.

‘Does anybody have any idea what I am talking about?’ More crickets.

Finally, a little guy bravely, albeit timidly, murmurs’ ‘A lip dub?’

17 pairs of eyes meet mine and I realize they have absolutely no idea what Lip Dub is–all they know is that it is happening on Friday. I laugh out loud and announce, ‘Friends. Our day is about to change!’

I busted out You Tube even though I was totally nervous about that MOMO thingymajig and showed them the first 2 Lip Dubs our elementary school has done. They sang the songs and laughed when they saw people they knew and shouted and thought the Lip Dub was the greatest thing ever!

We watched them again and again. We stopped them in the middle, talked about the audience, and watched some more. We had a discussion about the role of the audience in the Lip Dub and we formulated a plan.

Then, I lost my head.

We are using the song “Get Back Up Again’ from the movie ‘Trolls’. It’s a song about getting up again when you fall down, having grit when things are hard and to keep going. We decided we would make posters to shake-n-show when we are on camera.

‘Mrs. Hays, can we use our markers to make this poster?’

‘Friends. We are going to use……(wait for it)……PAINT!!!’

I let 17 kids make posters with paint for a Lip Dub.

And that my friends was why Wednesday was wacky. Oh and the fact that it was Wacky Wednesday for Read Across America week and they were all wearing wacky clothes and EVERY kid crazy hair. And we FINALLY had outside recess.

I let them paint. #justsayin’

**Full disclosure: Our principal is the mastermind behind these Lip Dubs. I just show up with my firsties and act crazy….sort of.