Food for Thought

A new little person joined our school family in mid-February.  Admittedly, I wasn’t overjoyed at the addition to my little school family.  It wasn’t my turn.  It was somebody else’s turn–only it’s never another person’s turn.  I had a lot going on in my classroom it wasn’t fair to this little person to add him.

Nobody listened.  Nobody heard.

Except Someone did.

It has been my feeling for quite some time that God places the kids I need in my classroom each year–not the kids who need me–the kids I need.

He has a plan for me.  He wants me to be more.

Placing this little person in my care upset our apple cart.  The second day he was with us I heard one of the friends lean over to him and say, “We don’t do that here.  You need to stop.” Later, another friend, while in reading group with a different teacher, told him “We don’t do that in The Hays Team.”

Both friends were gentle and kind with the words they shared.

He was in chaos.  He wanted to be hugged and loved.  He was hungry. I hugged him and there have been times when I have been VERY firm with him.  I fed him. I loved him. On his third day with me he dropped the information that ‘George’ had taken the long, long, long way home.

“What does that mean? The long way home?”

He replied, “Well he went on Wednesday to get something and he hasn’t come back.” Quick calculation: Wednesday was 5 days ago.


On his fourth day with us, George returned.  Only to leave again with his mom’s money. And he knew how much George had taken for ‘gas’.

“He sure drives a lot, Ms. Hays.  He must have a lot of places he needs to go.”


On Wednesday of this week he informed me that he was getting a new house.  It was behind Wendy’s.  He was very, very excited because this was a ‘nice’ place.  On Thursday, he was pretty sure they would get to sleep in the new place.  On Friday, he let me know that they had not slept there because George was gone again with the truck and they could not move the beds.

Today I picked up things a 6-year-old boy would like to eat: peanut butter, jelly, bread, cosmic brownies, Cheetos, Pringles and Oreo’s.  I also stuck in some cheese crackers, trail mix and granola bars.  My plan was to drop them at his new place.

I did not find him at his new place.  Twice. I checked his old place.  Twice. No sign.

I will check again tomorrow.  #justsayin’






Chemistry Lesson

I caught my about-to-graduate-from-college son digging in the pantry.  He had unearthed a bag of Hershey kisses leftover from Valentine’s Day.

‘If you are that desperate, why don’t you just make cookies? I have everything.’

He gave me the stink eye. I am the master cookie maker, but he is getting closer to being in my league.  He should practice. Hershey Kisses return to pantry.

Cookie mixing commences. He asks a few questions. I give him a few pointers.

‘Turn that mixer up. You need to mix the hell of that dough.’

‘Mix in one bag of chips at a time.’

‘Start with 8 minutes. Usually takes 9 but the oven is running hot these days.’

First batch goes into oven.  I test the dough. Dough has different consistency than usual. I begin quizzing him on ingredients.

‘How much heavy cream did you use? How much vanilla? How much flour?’

First batch comes out of the oven at 10 minutes.  Something isn’t right. The cookies were puffy and didn’t spread out.  Test another cookie.  They taste fine.  Actually, I really like the texture.  And the puffiness.  Test another. And another.

‘Ohhhhhhhh. I used baking powder instead of baking soda.’



The Post in Which I Admit to Having Done Dumb Things

On the 13th day of Slicing, I realized that when I commented on blogger blogs, it was posting my blogger username and not my word press username.  Blogger and I broke up about 2 years ago–not a chance in you know where that we will be getting back together.  And now I probably can’t win a prize for following the Slicing rules of 2016.   Ugh.

On Monday, I accepted a dare from my youngest daughter.  Basically this was an athletic feat in which jumping and touching my toes and heels in a fairly quick way was to occur. Yeah.  So I kicked myself in leg and have a raised up bruise the size of an egg.  I kicked myself so hard it hurt to shave my leg.  Aaaaannnnddddd I did not complete the task. Ugh.

On Tuesday I bought butter cookies off of the dollar isle. 5 cookies are a serving.  I have had my servings for the next 10 days. Ugh.

I don’t eat corn. Or corn products. Or products made from corn.  Yesterday I ate 2 CORN dogs for lunch. Duh. But oh so delicious!!  Ugh.

Today I opened a fresh bag of Lay’s Original chips.  There is nothing like a freshly opened bag of Original Lay’s. I proceeded to eat all the folded over chips I could find.  Here’s hoping that no one else in my family wanted to have any chips with lunch today. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Ugh.

It takes me exactly 3 days to adopt my no school schedule of napping, staying up too late and sleeping in.  Monday morning at 5 am, life is going to be rough. Double Ugh.

None of these things are life threatening.  I really hate it when I do dumb stuff.







When You Make Bad Choices

As I picked my kids up from the gym, I heard a number of ‘HOLY SMOKES! IT’S COLD OUT HERE!’ And you know what?  They were right.  It was cold out there.

And I had not worn any socks.  And I had a friend who had worn her flip flops.  Another had on her exercise pants which did not cover her ankles.  My good friend T pointed out that I had made a bad choice and I was going to have to live with it.

His words sounded suspiciously like my words.  OH MY.

I begged the friends not to tell my mom!  They giggled…and said, ‘MS. HAYS YOU DON’T LIVE WITH YOUR MOM!!’ More giggling.

You know what?  It was just socks.  And I am a grown-up who can make her own choices.  Forgetting my socks only affected me–for the most part. It meant that I wasn’t going to be too hip to have any extra outside recess so that affected the kids.

But what about when bad choices affect others?  Do I think about how my choices affect others?  Sometimes.  But really. Probably not.  As humans we can be very selfish.

I am human.