I am Bored

One of my little girls at school has decided to drive me crazy and I think she does it on purpose. She will quickly finish her homework, then run up to me and say,
"Ms. Ribeiro, I am so bored!" To which I reply, " Well go find something to do then." This has been our back and forth chant for several weeks and I admit to not being too sympathetic.

When my children were young they would occasionally sing me that refrain, but they quickly learned that I had a list of chores a mile long that could certainly be done by bored children rather easily. At school, however, where people pay almost as much to have their children attend as I make in an annual salary,it seems rather unwise for me to ask them to clean the floor, take out the trash or do the dishes. So my little friend and I are at an impasse on most days, and she knows it. Off she trots, grinning from ear to ear, and I am left to decide how to occupy her remaining minutes.

Today being the weekend has me slowing down my routine a bit, and especially in the chill of winter I am less inclined to fill the hours of Saturday with too many planned activities. When I was a younger mother, house full of children and high on energy, I usually had more activities scheduled than hours in the day , so this has been a refreshing change. It happened gradually , at first taking me by surprise, then causing me some stress as the changes occurred weekly, and now it has become my own favorite refrain. "I am bored." "I have nothing to do." I have plenty of things I could do, like clean the floor or take out that trash or do the dishes, but I am choosing boredom.

What is boredom? It simply means lack of demands on me, from without and within. Nobody expects anything from me because I have no more small children, no longer is a husband part of my dynamic, and no work needs to be seen to. In my state of boredom I can sit in the spot of sunshine on my couch and leaf through a magazine, or finish up that chapter in the book I fell asleep on last evening. I can watch television if I want to, which I never want, or slip in a movie and eat myself sick with popcorn. Probably won't because some of that young energy still pops out and sitting for 2 straight hours really puts me over the edge.

Boredom meant that I could go scrounge around in my refrigerator, choosing not to clean it properly, but rather pull out random things and create a lunch casserole. It wasn't half bad, I might add. Guess I will now go and have a cup of hot chocolate, since there is nobody to have a cup of coffee with. One of my quirks is that I feel I must only make coffee when someone is here with me and tea is always for two, so that leaves me only able to drink cocoa when alone and bored. Strange creatures, aren't we? Don't go laughing at my oddities, I am just brave enough to admit a few of my conclusions about myself.

I also saw a magazine with a picture of a pie on the cover, so made a cherry pie. Yesterday was National Pie Day. How many reading this knew that little known and talked about fact? I thought not. Since I am talking about boring topics, can I just tell you that it should be illegal for someone trying to walk, lose weight and eat healthfully less, to be able to subscribe to a FOOD magazine??! Holy Mashed Potatoes!it is ridiculous the amount of tempting pictures and amazingly simple recipes that can be found in one food magazine. Gourmet. Even the name is delectably enticing. It makes me want to go have a chocolate eclair with my hot cocoa.

Boredom makes you do things that normally people place in the 'do when I get around to it' category. This morning while waiting for Ethan's parents to pick him up after a spontaneous overnight at Grammy's last night, I rearranged and cleaned off my entire desktop. Who does that? Who has time? Me. Because I was bored.






Are you getting this?

The phone rang and I chose NOT to answer it. I had time to see the caller ID, realize I had no desire to fill my boredom with idol chatter , so I ignored it's ringing nag. When we are busy we grab it off the hook, listen angrily and slam it down muttering about how ridiculous it is to get so many dumb calls! Not so for my Bored friends and I who leisurely ignore these problems.

Blogging is Boredom in written form, reading blogs is boredom a step further.

Well, my cocoa is waiting for me, my head is throbbing from so many boring thoughts, and I think I may need to go take a bubble bath. It is 4:00 pm and I am so bored.

First Week Back and More

What an incredibly fast and short week just flew by me! Funny thing though, is that daughter Margie just mentioned in passing how LONG the last week was. Isn't that interesting? How can both of our feelings of something be so different and yet we both had the same number of hours and days?

My last Blog post spoke of the dread that was overtaking me at returning to work after a two week hiatus, and those feelings were also different than my reality. The week was busy, fine and in fact, I began a new health kick. I want to call it a health regime but that could be overly optimistic. Each day I made healthy food choices and then walked the track at school a few times, building up to unlimited endurance , I hope. I will keep at it until I am as energetic as the 83 year old lady on the ski commercial who prompted me to begin. No kidding, she was a water skier and I couldn't even walk to the kitchen without being out of breath. Totally annoying and I decided then and there to change something.

One of the week's events that made an impression on my mind(and believe me that isn't easy to do) was the celebration of my birthday twins. Yes, I have two sets of grandchildren who are twins, but once a year I also have birthday twins. Margie came into the world in 1978 and on that exact same day in 1985 Joshua entered the world.



Josh is allergic to lots of foods, and since our tradition is eating your favorite meal on your birthday, there is an annual negotiation that takes place every year about the first of January. It goes something like this "I'll pick the main course, you pick the salad, then we both agree on dessert", "no,no, no, you picked the dessert last year so it's my turn this year and anyhow I hate the salad always being my choice, I want the main course". This conversation with minor fluctuations goes on every single year and we always end up with applesauce for Josh with cheese on the side of whatever else they choose for Margie. This year had me making Brazilian spaghetti, while applesauce and Italian Bread with Joel's homemade apple pie came along for dessert. Ice cream was extra.

These two children of mine are as different as any two could be, but on this one day of the year they act like biological birth twins, laughing, sitting next to each other to open gifts, consorting on whose gifts are better, and reminding me of the true worth of a family unit. By the actual date there have been several conversations and phone calls, and I have never been quite sure why. It amuses me to watch and observe.

Some would say that a large family is too expensive, adoption is too risky and combining other people's genes with your own family is foolish. Others add that cross cultural adoption adds too much stress to a child and that there is no way a person from another race can understand all of the 'issues' involved.

They would be correct.

It was expensive to adopt Joshua and then Andrew, and this after birthing five others, and adopting Danny and having him die before he reached one year.
Fortunately for us, God paid all the bills. He continues to handle our finances quite well with occasional help from me and my job.

The adoption was risky because after I adopted one child I wanted as many as my house could hold.

The race issue, always an interesting topic of discussion, seems to come up as an aside when all other arguments have failed. I suppose the fact that my grandfather spoke more Spanish than English and what English he spoke was so accented that I considered heavy accents a normal part of life, should enter the talk. Or how about that my German grandmother left my sisters and I in stitches as she told us to get our P-Yays on at bedtime? Her accent , completely different from Grandpa's was also a normal sound to our ears. What did I, a blond little girl whose last name was Garcia, whose teachers argued with her to say Gar-sha, not Gar-C-I-A, understand about different cultures and backgrounds? How could I read and empathize and fully teach my sons the importance of their black heritage? Was race something to be ignored or incorporated into our interestingly diverse family unit? I might also mention that the reason for Brazilian spaghetti for the birthday dinner was because we have many such recipes handed down from the kid's paternal grandmother whose life was spent in her native Brazil developing these tasty foods. Their Brazilian father made sure they fully understood and learned that the capital of Brazil is Brasilia and the language spoken is Portuguese, thank you very much! Black? Hispanic? Spanish? English? Portuguese? White? Black? Brown? Blond? How about Rich? Poor? Kind? Compassionate? Loving? Joyful? Contented? Caring? Laughter? What are we teaching the children , now that I am thinking of it? Did we do our job? Have we made the case for cross racial adoption or large families being a valued commodity?



I think so. Ask the Birthday twins, numbers 3 and 6 in this multi-gifted and blessed family.

Oh, and for the record, I would still adopt if I thought I could be as energetic and live as long as that 83 year old skiing lady I saw . Maybe I'll walk another mile.

Back to Reality

My heart is beating faster, my thoughts are more jumbled than usual, my list of things to get done while on vacation just stares at me as if willing me to function. That's the word I am searching for -functional. I am not that. I am non-functional, slowed down, rapidly deteriorating. Why, you ask? Well, even if nobody is asking I am about to tell you why.

This is the first Friday of the New Year, 2009, and the last official day of my vacation. Sure, I still have a full weekend ahead of me, but that doesn't count. This is seriously the LAST day of my glorious, wonderful, refreshing Christmas vacation. I refuse to call it a Holiday, it was definitely Christmas and it is definitely over. Here's where that famous saying should be inserted in the text: Bah Humbug.

I loved everything about my vacation. I loved the family collected and the chaos that comes with it. I loved the packages and presents and people and piles of paper.{I love alliteration} I loved the ten grandchildren , six of whom are now crazy 2 year olds! Have you ever tried to organize play amongst two year olds? How hilarious is that?!!They fight and sit next to each other and want exactly the toy the other one has, and now. The matching toy does not really work, they want that exact toy.Then, of course, there was the Family Picture Grammy needs as proof of the moment. Since I happen to be the Grammy and my sofa happens to be the location, I also have to do the coercion and cooperation control. Fortunately, these same 2 year olds also have a need for candy and presents and can be very easily bribed for little more than a candy cane. Next year they may remember the trick so I am already thinking of something subtle, yet sweet.







As you may have noticed, success was mine.

Returning to my heart racing symptoms, it feels almost like adrenaline coursing through my veins. I watch the hands on the clock as if by watching them I can slow down time. As anyone over the age of 50 can tell you , time just speeds up every year so obviously clock watching isn't the answer to my dilemma. What is my dilemma? I love my job about as well as anyone can love their job. The people are friendly, the hours are perfect, the pay is good, the benefits are a blessing and the work is not difficult. I consider myself a woman with a thankful heart so I am truly grateful God has given me this job. So what exactly is the problem?

I love my home. I loved my old role as Homemaker and Mother. I loved being a wife and managing a very tight bank budget. I love shopping for a bargain and really needing it. I like visiting neighbors spur of the moment and taking the elderly ones a bowl of homemade soup. Well, my soup isn't the greatest soup on the planet , to be sure, but it is homemade and it is tasty when there is a need for homemade. This vacation reminded me that I like just being. Nobody arguing with me over my job description or my techniques for class activities, or even when to have a snack. I can have a snack anytime I please, and eat whatever I care to, healthy or not.



Is there a point to this blog? Not really. I just decided to put down on paper(or the modern day equivalent to paper)my angst over beginning another year at a job rather than at Home. Interestingly, I am so thankful for God's gift of work for me I thank Him every single morning for it. I have several friends and a son who are currently laid off or unemployed and I pray diligently for them to become gainfully employed. I say gainfully because I think Internet gambling is such a waste of time!

My heartbeat is slowing a bit since writing this blog. Perhaps it's because the sun is still shining and the day is not yet over and I may still fit in a few cups of coffee. Or perhaps it's because one of my students at my job gave me a gift certificate to Dunkin Donuts and I have a very large apple fritter waiting to be devoured out in the kitchen. Well, come to think of it, I never would have been able to afford an over-priced apple fritter from DD had I not been working and had this kind student not loved me enough to thank me with a gift certificate....so round and round we go, where we stop, nobody knows.....