I think most people know my favorite band is Sister Hazel. It's true. I also love movie soundtracks. I think one of the most fun jobs in the world would be to be the person who gets to pick the music for a full-length feature film. To find the right song to convey what the characters in a film are struggling through or rejoicing over. Let's face it, music is a powerful force in movies. It can make a scary film scarier, a funny film funnier, and a film about the triumph of the human spirit downright victorious. And long after the movie is over, the movie soundtrack brings back those moments in the film that made us laugh, scream, or cry.
If my life were to be on film, Sister Hazel would consume most of the soundtrack of my life . . . mingled with a good deal of '80's pop. One song that would definitely make the voluminous compilation of "Lisa: The Motion Picture Soundtrack" is the inspiration for the title of this blog. Here follow the lyrics . . .
World Inside My Head
On the road to safe
I kinda tripped along the way
It just seemed like a nasty hassle
The path was greener on the one less traveled
That's where I remained
People so high they think
I can't hear the whispers
I can see it falling off their face
Their trying to shoot down my plane of grace
It seems like it's already hard enough
But the paint on me is beginning to dry
And it's not what I wanted to be
The weight on me
Is Hanging on to a weary angel
So tell me what it is about me
Where did everybody go without me
So, I like to fantasize
And watch the sunrise like it's a big surprise
Life moves and I stopped to taste it
I drank it up till it left me wasted
But my rains have bled
A softer red
Oh you should see the world inside my head
You can shackle me away
And try to wrap around my dreamer
I feel better when I paint my days
With purple seas
And left out grays
Strange is just a different point of view
But the paint on me is starting to dry
And it's not what I wanted to be
The weight on me
Is holding onto a weary angel
[Chorus]
I feel better when I paint my days
With purple seas
And left out grays
Strange is just a different point of view
But the pain on me is beginning to dry
And it's not what I want it to be
So wait on me
Wait on me
[Chorus]
(Richard N. Marx; Jeff Beres; Ryan Newell; Mark E. Trojanowski; Andrew Copeland; Ken Block; Skidd Mills)
What songs would make it on to the soundtrack of your life?
Monday, June 16, 2008
Friday, May 30, 2008
Mourning
I've been out of touch with the blog world the past couple of months. A lot's been happening in my world and the world inside my head . . . deep thoughts aplenty! I just haven't really known what to do with them. My grandfather passed away in April. It was a time of mixed emotions for me and my family. My grandfather suffered most of his life from schizophrenia and alcoholism and in his last years Parkinson's and Alzheimer's. My memories of him are tainted with fear and distrust, primarily because I didn't understand what was wrong with him and why he acted the way that he did. I used to think I would feel relieved when he passed, but I was sad. Sad about the relationship we never had or would ever have. Sad that I didn't know as a child what I know now about mental illness (silly, I know), wondering that if maybe I had, could I have given him more hope than what I was able to provide in my ignorance and fear? Sad that he had to suffer what he suffered, trapped in his head, lost and alone. I can't do anything about any of that now, I know, but the thoughts are there lurking as I work to move forward.
Today was the last day of school and with the end of this school-year came the end of many other things. In the weeks leading up to this end, I have had many ask me if I was ready for school to be out. My answer was "no". I wasn't ready for the end. I will be losing 3 students that I've had for 3 years. That was pretty rough, but I intend to keep up with them, so I didn't feel so bereft over them. The thing that I've been dreading most is the departure of "Triple-J": Jack, Jim, and John. Jack is my principal who is moving to a school up north to be Assistant Principle for high school, I believe. Jack is a godly man and a wonderful leader. He pushed to get a Life Skills class in his building and the kids loved him. He provided a sense of security and safety on his campus, and he strove to inspire his teachers to give their all to the children they served. I loved working in his building and will miss him. Jim was the school counselor. He had a quiet strength. He was a magic balm for Sonny. When no one else could get through to Sonny, Jim could. He's going to be the counselor for the high school and I've informed him that I will be calling him when I need help with Sonny next year with the expectation of his full and immediate cooperation. He laughed and said he'd be ready. A good man, a good heart that I'm going to miss being so accessible.
And then there was John. John was one of my teaching assistants and an answer to prayer. When I learned last summer that I would be losing one of my assistants from the year before, I immediately began praying for a new one. I had come to realize that God has been looking after me since I started teaching, regardless of how much I was communicating with Him. I said half-hearted prayers when it came to the acquisition of teaching assistants right before I met them, "Please, God let us get along well!" The Lord provided every single time, more than I could have hoped for. I thought, "What will He do for me if I pray with my whole heart?" So I did, and so came the answer in John. John was the best thing that has happened to my class. He is an amazing, positive male role model for my students, primarily boys. He taught them the importance of working hard, telling the truth, and taking responsibility for themselves--all things that I've taught them for 3 years, but in a way that only a man could succeed. John was creative, coming up with activities to do with them on the spot that were fun and educational at the same time. They never resisted doing anything Mr. John suggested. One day he taught them all how to write their names in Greek. He was trustworthy, patient, and everything I prayed for ("immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine . . . "). I never worried about being gone because John was there. He was a tremendous blessing and I will miss him and the stability and balance he brought to my classroom.
So I've been in mourning. So much in life is beyond our control, I know, but sometimes a person needs to just have a good cry over it in order to move forward. I mourn my grandfather, but I gained a deeper understanding of the vital importance of compassion and grace in our world. I mourn the end of a chapter in my teaching career under phenomenal leadership. I mourn the end of a good team running my classroom. I mourn the loss of a few good men. Like David, upon the looming death of the first child he had with Bathsheba, I mourn. When the child finally passed, David got up, cleaned up, and got on with things because there was nothing more he could do. In the same way: the year is over, I've said my goodbyes, and my mourning will end. I will get up tomorrow and get on with things. I will get on my knees and start praying about the year to come. I will pray for my new leadership and my new teaching assistants with wholehearted faith, knowing that God will provide.
Today was the last day of school and with the end of this school-year came the end of many other things. In the weeks leading up to this end, I have had many ask me if I was ready for school to be out. My answer was "no". I wasn't ready for the end. I will be losing 3 students that I've had for 3 years. That was pretty rough, but I intend to keep up with them, so I didn't feel so bereft over them. The thing that I've been dreading most is the departure of "Triple-J": Jack, Jim, and John. Jack is my principal who is moving to a school up north to be Assistant Principle for high school, I believe. Jack is a godly man and a wonderful leader. He pushed to get a Life Skills class in his building and the kids loved him. He provided a sense of security and safety on his campus, and he strove to inspire his teachers to give their all to the children they served. I loved working in his building and will miss him. Jim was the school counselor. He had a quiet strength. He was a magic balm for Sonny. When no one else could get through to Sonny, Jim could. He's going to be the counselor for the high school and I've informed him that I will be calling him when I need help with Sonny next year with the expectation of his full and immediate cooperation. He laughed and said he'd be ready. A good man, a good heart that I'm going to miss being so accessible.
And then there was John. John was one of my teaching assistants and an answer to prayer. When I learned last summer that I would be losing one of my assistants from the year before, I immediately began praying for a new one. I had come to realize that God has been looking after me since I started teaching, regardless of how much I was communicating with Him. I said half-hearted prayers when it came to the acquisition of teaching assistants right before I met them, "Please, God let us get along well!" The Lord provided every single time, more than I could have hoped for. I thought, "What will He do for me if I pray with my whole heart?" So I did, and so came the answer in John. John was the best thing that has happened to my class. He is an amazing, positive male role model for my students, primarily boys. He taught them the importance of working hard, telling the truth, and taking responsibility for themselves--all things that I've taught them for 3 years, but in a way that only a man could succeed. John was creative, coming up with activities to do with them on the spot that were fun and educational at the same time. They never resisted doing anything Mr. John suggested. One day he taught them all how to write their names in Greek. He was trustworthy, patient, and everything I prayed for ("immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine . . . "). I never worried about being gone because John was there. He was a tremendous blessing and I will miss him and the stability and balance he brought to my classroom.
So I've been in mourning. So much in life is beyond our control, I know, but sometimes a person needs to just have a good cry over it in order to move forward. I mourn my grandfather, but I gained a deeper understanding of the vital importance of compassion and grace in our world. I mourn the end of a chapter in my teaching career under phenomenal leadership. I mourn the end of a good team running my classroom. I mourn the loss of a few good men. Like David, upon the looming death of the first child he had with Bathsheba, I mourn. When the child finally passed, David got up, cleaned up, and got on with things because there was nothing more he could do. In the same way: the year is over, I've said my goodbyes, and my mourning will end. I will get up tomorrow and get on with things. I will get on my knees and start praying about the year to come. I will pray for my new leadership and my new teaching assistants with wholehearted faith, knowing that God will provide.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Deep Thoughts at the Garage Sale
I had a garage sale this weekend. I wonder at some of the things I have acquired over the years. Wonder why I kept it, that is. There were several items I can remember buying just a few years, and in some cases, months ago. For some reason, I thought they were things I couldn’t live without at the time. So dire was that need apparently, that I don’t feel a wrench as I write “25 cents” on a fluorescent sticker and place it on a handbag that cost me $30.
I know why I have kept all that stuff, rather why I “keep” stuff. It’s mostly because I don’t want to let go. Most of the items in this sale are things I’ve had for a very long time: a little doll someone gave me on my birthday, the scarves my grandmother used to keep in her drawer, some trinket I picked up in Scotland. They all connect me to someone or something, some place in time—someone, something, some place I hope to experience once more. I suppose that somewhere inside I feel that if I let go of these things, I am giving up that hope of return. I know that isn’t necessarily true, but it’s something I’ve always wrestled with.
There comes a time when you just have to let go, be it an item you’ve outgrown, the dream of a distant country, or a relationship you hoped to one day restore. Too often we hold on to things long after we’ve had to give them up, long after they have in whatever manner let go of us. Myself, I have spent hours, days, years even lamenting decisions I have made, friends I have lost, places in time that are gone forever except in my memory. “Why?” I wonder now. “Why did I hold on for so long . . . to something that wasn’t holding on to me?” Letting go doesn’t minimize the significance of an event or person in our lives. God closes the door on aspects of our lives so that we can focus on what He has planned for us, which is usually better than anything we could conceive ourselves. It’s still hard, though.
I resolved not to make any New Year’s resolutions this year. But since everyday in Christ is New Year’s Day, I’m resolved to work on not holding on to things that aren’t holding on to me. I want to stop being consumed by all that I can’t leave behind and be ready for what God has in store for me. It’s a good thing every day is New Year’s Day because it’s going to take a lot of New Year’s Days to get this one down.
I know why I have kept all that stuff, rather why I “keep” stuff. It’s mostly because I don’t want to let go. Most of the items in this sale are things I’ve had for a very long time: a little doll someone gave me on my birthday, the scarves my grandmother used to keep in her drawer, some trinket I picked up in Scotland. They all connect me to someone or something, some place in time—someone, something, some place I hope to experience once more. I suppose that somewhere inside I feel that if I let go of these things, I am giving up that hope of return. I know that isn’t necessarily true, but it’s something I’ve always wrestled with.
There comes a time when you just have to let go, be it an item you’ve outgrown, the dream of a distant country, or a relationship you hoped to one day restore. Too often we hold on to things long after we’ve had to give them up, long after they have in whatever manner let go of us. Myself, I have spent hours, days, years even lamenting decisions I have made, friends I have lost, places in time that are gone forever except in my memory. “Why?” I wonder now. “Why did I hold on for so long . . . to something that wasn’t holding on to me?” Letting go doesn’t minimize the significance of an event or person in our lives. God closes the door on aspects of our lives so that we can focus on what He has planned for us, which is usually better than anything we could conceive ourselves. It’s still hard, though.
I resolved not to make any New Year’s resolutions this year. But since everyday in Christ is New Year’s Day, I’m resolved to work on not holding on to things that aren’t holding on to me. I want to stop being consumed by all that I can’t leave behind and be ready for what God has in store for me. It’s a good thing every day is New Year’s Day because it’s going to take a lot of New Year’s Days to get this one down.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
The Grocery Store Format
I was at the grocery store the other evening. I decided to go to a different United than the one I have frequented for nearly 10 years because it's slightly closer to my apartment by about 30 seconds. I was almost immediately frustrated the moment I walked in. I would like to know how the powers that be in grocer chains decide what the layout will be for an individual store. To me it makes sense to build them them to have the exact same floorplan and stock arrangement. Now, I can understand the desire to cater to the neighborhood and the diversity therein, but is it too much to ask that the bittersweet chocolate always be directly across aisle from the cake mixes? Cannot the Mediterranean dried apricots be at the end of canned fruit and juice aisle in every store?
The thing that really struck me was the sign for Aisle 2: Religious Candles, Salsa, Mexican, Pasta, Spaghetti Sauce. Religious candles? I had to go check to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. Sure enough, at the end of Aisle 2A, just past the Mexican soda pop and across from the Noodle Roni was a collection of candles swathed in religious iconography. I didn't notice any saints for lost and confused grocery shoppers, one that might help me find the bittersweet chocolate.
Then I went to the one where I usually shop because at the very least I'll see that handsome management chap who I enjoy looking at. I was on a quest for mascarpone cheese to put in my tiramisu cake. I'd seen there before many times, but could I find it this trip? Nope. Not only that, I couldn't find any religious candles with patron saints to help me in my search. What is the deal, United people? It became a true quest as I sought out at the Wal-mart on West 82nd and Milwaukee, the Market Street on 82nd and Frankford and finally discovered my prize at the Original Market Street on 50th and Indiana. OK, so they cater to neighborhoods and all, but couldn't they make them the least bit familiar to the person who doesn't frequently shop there, but has to out of necessity. It's hard to get around in a strange place when you're far from home!
The thing that really struck me was the sign for Aisle 2: Religious Candles, Salsa, Mexican, Pasta, Spaghetti Sauce. Religious candles? I had to go check to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. Sure enough, at the end of Aisle 2A, just past the Mexican soda pop and across from the Noodle Roni was a collection of candles swathed in religious iconography. I didn't notice any saints for lost and confused grocery shoppers, one that might help me find the bittersweet chocolate.
Then I went to the one where I usually shop because at the very least I'll see that handsome management chap who I enjoy looking at. I was on a quest for mascarpone cheese to put in my tiramisu cake. I'd seen there before many times, but could I find it this trip? Nope. Not only that, I couldn't find any religious candles with patron saints to help me in my search. What is the deal, United people? It became a true quest as I sought out at the Wal-mart on West 82nd and Milwaukee, the Market Street on 82nd and Frankford and finally discovered my prize at the Original Market Street on 50th and Indiana. OK, so they cater to neighborhoods and all, but couldn't they make them the least bit familiar to the person who doesn't frequently shop there, but has to out of necessity. It's hard to get around in a strange place when you're far from home!
Thursday, January 17, 2008
All That We Ask or Imagine (and He really means ALL)
"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever!"
Ephesians 3:20-21 has long been a favorite verse of mine. It often energizes my prayer life as it reminds me Who I'm bringing my requests to. "Immeasurably more . . ." Doesn't it make you think big? Really, really BIG. Not only BIG, but bigger--more than we could ask, more than we could imagine. My brain hurts.
I've been thinking a lot about my time as a teacher in the last 5 years. I've also been thinking a lot about the things I don't ask for that God does for me, little things that it doesn't occur to me to imagine. I needed to get some work done on my car this week and it was going to take most of the day. When the brother still lived here, I could count on him to follow me to the repair shop, take me to work, and bring me back. Even now that he's moved, there are still people I could call on for help, but I hesitate to ask because it's not a small inconvenience to pick me up from the repair shop at 7a.m., drive me to the next town for work, drive back into Lubbock for wherever they work, come back out to get me, and then bring back into to town. Whew! I know many people who would gladly do that for me and wouldn't want me to think twice about it, but it's still a lot to ask.
So I asked Emma. Emma teaches in the classroom right next door to mine. She has been a tremendous help to me over the last few years as I've sought to navigate the the treacherous waters of Special Education and all of its paperwork. More than that, she has become a tremendous friend. Emma also lives just down the road from me and has helped me a couple of times now to get to work and back when I have found myself needing transportation. I've often heard it is no coincidence that we are in the time and place we find ourselves. It's no coincidence that I started getting to know Emma in workshops and meetings a year before I'd be working in her building. Or that my classroom ended up being right next door to hers and she lives in Lubbock, just down the street from me. Am I saying that God provided Emma so I could have a ride to school when my car needed new tires? No. But He provided Emma and in providing Emma, He has taken care of me. He provided a model, an advisor, a mentor, a friend, and something as insignificant as a ride to work. As grateful as I am for Emma's generous spirit, I am more grateful for the 30 minutes of visiting in the car that I got with a friend with whom I don't get enough time. Nothing is insignificant about that.
Ephesians 3:20-21 has long been a favorite verse of mine. It often energizes my prayer life as it reminds me Who I'm bringing my requests to. "Immeasurably more . . ." Doesn't it make you think big? Really, really BIG. Not only BIG, but bigger--more than we could ask, more than we could imagine. My brain hurts.
I've been thinking a lot about my time as a teacher in the last 5 years. I've also been thinking a lot about the things I don't ask for that God does for me, little things that it doesn't occur to me to imagine. I needed to get some work done on my car this week and it was going to take most of the day. When the brother still lived here, I could count on him to follow me to the repair shop, take me to work, and bring me back. Even now that he's moved, there are still people I could call on for help, but I hesitate to ask because it's not a small inconvenience to pick me up from the repair shop at 7a.m., drive me to the next town for work, drive back into Lubbock for wherever they work, come back out to get me, and then bring back into to town. Whew! I know many people who would gladly do that for me and wouldn't want me to think twice about it, but it's still a lot to ask.
So I asked Emma. Emma teaches in the classroom right next door to mine. She has been a tremendous help to me over the last few years as I've sought to navigate the the treacherous waters of Special Education and all of its paperwork. More than that, she has become a tremendous friend. Emma also lives just down the road from me and has helped me a couple of times now to get to work and back when I have found myself needing transportation. I've often heard it is no coincidence that we are in the time and place we find ourselves. It's no coincidence that I started getting to know Emma in workshops and meetings a year before I'd be working in her building. Or that my classroom ended up being right next door to hers and she lives in Lubbock, just down the street from me. Am I saying that God provided Emma so I could have a ride to school when my car needed new tires? No. But He provided Emma and in providing Emma, He has taken care of me. He provided a model, an advisor, a mentor, a friend, and something as insignificant as a ride to work. As grateful as I am for Emma's generous spirit, I am more grateful for the 30 minutes of visiting in the car that I got with a friend with whom I don't get enough time. Nothing is insignificant about that.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
My Favorite Things . . . Top Fives
Happy New Year! I contemplated writing something thought-provoking and profound. I think, though, that I'd prefer to talk about the things in life that I enjoy and learn a little more about things that you all enjoy. Stealing from the John Cusack flick "High Fidelity", here are some of my Top Fives.
Females in Literature:
1. Hermione Granger--Harry Potter Series
2. Elizabeth Bennett--Pride and Prejudice
3. Eowyn--Lord of the Rings Trilogy
4. Anne Shirley--Anne of Green Gables
5. Beatrice--Much Ado About Nothing
Comedic Characters in Film:
1. Captain Jack Sparrow--Pirates of the Caribbean
2. Dorie--Finding Nemo
3. Spike--Notting Hill
4. Billy Mack--Love Actually
5. Stuart McKenzie (dad)--So, I Married An Axe Murderer
If I Could Have Been Anything Else:
1. Women's Auxillary Ferrying Service Pilot--WWII
2. Figure Skater
3. 1940's-50's Dancer in Movie Musical
4. Master Chef
5. The person who determines the music in movie sequences
Things I Hope to Do:
1. Hike the West Highland Way in Scotland.
2. Visit Ireland
3. Hike Mt. Fuji
4. Visit Prince Edward Island
5. Go to Disneyworld
This is all about fun, people. You can list as few or as many as you want. Thanks for reading this last year. I wish all of you a wonderful, blessed 2008!
Females in Literature:
1. Hermione Granger--Harry Potter Series
2. Elizabeth Bennett--Pride and Prejudice
3. Eowyn--Lord of the Rings Trilogy
4. Anne Shirley--Anne of Green Gables
5. Beatrice--Much Ado About Nothing
Comedic Characters in Film:
1. Captain Jack Sparrow--Pirates of the Caribbean
2. Dorie--Finding Nemo
3. Spike--Notting Hill
4. Billy Mack--Love Actually
5. Stuart McKenzie (dad)--So, I Married An Axe Murderer
If I Could Have Been Anything Else:
1. Women's Auxillary Ferrying Service Pilot--WWII
2. Figure Skater
3. 1940's-50's Dancer in Movie Musical
4. Master Chef
5. The person who determines the music in movie sequences
Things I Hope to Do:
1. Hike the West Highland Way in Scotland.
2. Visit Ireland
3. Hike Mt. Fuji
4. Visit Prince Edward Island
5. Go to Disneyworld
This is all about fun, people. You can list as few or as many as you want. Thanks for reading this last year. I wish all of you a wonderful, blessed 2008!
Friday, December 14, 2007
Things That Make You Go "Eww"
There was a time in my life when I wasn’t squeamish. I could handle various sorts of slime and gore. My sophomore year in high school I watched a video on how to deliver a baby in an emergency and not once was there the suggestion to boil some water. The video must have been shot in the 60’s and was set in a dingy storeroom with a single, naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling. No doubt the inspiration for the setting of every 70’s hostage situation on television. I also dissected a fetal pig that year without the slightest guilt or gagging. We got an extra hundred points if we could extract the brain from the skull with out severing the spinal cord. I got that hundred points, but only because I had the stomach to mash the spinal cord back together and it held up to my biology teacher’s inspection. As a counselor at church camp, a girl in my cabin threw up all over herself, the wall, and the girl on the bottom bunk. I cleaned her up and all of her spew without flinching.
Those days are gone.
Something as small as a booger is enough to make my tummy turn. As a teacher, there is no escaping them. I’m constantly facing all manner of mucus. When I worked with Pre-K, the other teachers read my signals of panic and revulsion and would come and rescue me from a child whose brain matter was dangling from his nose. I have the classic “snot-nosed” child in my classroom, bat-in-the-cave and a layer or two of dry, filthy crusting regularly adorns his nostrils. Last week, I couldn’t stand to look at it any longer and attempted to get it cleared with 3 or 4 tissues to keep it from touching me. I was not successful, but suddenly the kid was aware that he had a booger in his nose. I went for more tissues asking, “Do you think you can blow it out?” Without a moment’s hesitation, he blows and not only did the bat exit the cave but an unreasonable amount of gelatinous substance followed it to freedom. Seriously, I didn’t know that much mucus could come through a single nostril.
And then there’s regurgitation. I can’t even watch it on film anymore. Even worse, I get nauseous at the sight of the puking happy faces you can put in emails and instant messages. In fact, I’m getting sick now as I compose this post. As if to emphasize His sense of humor, God gave me employment as a behavior coach for a child with the most sensitive gag reflex in the history of the world. One of his favorite foods was one that also caused him to puke most frequently: scrambled eggs--which, by the way, go against the scent-taste connection. I like good scrambled eggs, but the sulfur-smell makes ME want to hurl. There was a morning that he started gagging and I was determined to get him to the bathroom because I couldn’t handle watching him ralph all over his tray again. As I was attempting to get his helmet off, his entire breakfast landed in my hand. How my breakfast didn’t also re-appear is a mystery. After that, his barfing all over his tray wasn’t so unbearable for me.
The best or worst, depending on your point of view, tale of projectile vomit came from one of my teaching assistants who has a two year old son. Once he was holding his infant son over his head and cooing at him when the darling one wretched . . . right into daddy’s mouth. Pardon me. I don’t feel so good.
Those days are gone.
Something as small as a booger is enough to make my tummy turn. As a teacher, there is no escaping them. I’m constantly facing all manner of mucus. When I worked with Pre-K, the other teachers read my signals of panic and revulsion and would come and rescue me from a child whose brain matter was dangling from his nose. I have the classic “snot-nosed” child in my classroom, bat-in-the-cave and a layer or two of dry, filthy crusting regularly adorns his nostrils. Last week, I couldn’t stand to look at it any longer and attempted to get it cleared with 3 or 4 tissues to keep it from touching me. I was not successful, but suddenly the kid was aware that he had a booger in his nose. I went for more tissues asking, “Do you think you can blow it out?” Without a moment’s hesitation, he blows and not only did the bat exit the cave but an unreasonable amount of gelatinous substance followed it to freedom. Seriously, I didn’t know that much mucus could come through a single nostril.
And then there’s regurgitation. I can’t even watch it on film anymore. Even worse, I get nauseous at the sight of the puking happy faces you can put in emails and instant messages. In fact, I’m getting sick now as I compose this post. As if to emphasize His sense of humor, God gave me employment as a behavior coach for a child with the most sensitive gag reflex in the history of the world. One of his favorite foods was one that also caused him to puke most frequently: scrambled eggs--which, by the way, go against the scent-taste connection. I like good scrambled eggs, but the sulfur-smell makes ME want to hurl. There was a morning that he started gagging and I was determined to get him to the bathroom because I couldn’t handle watching him ralph all over his tray again. As I was attempting to get his helmet off, his entire breakfast landed in my hand. How my breakfast didn’t also re-appear is a mystery. After that, his barfing all over his tray wasn’t so unbearable for me.
The best or worst, depending on your point of view, tale of projectile vomit came from one of my teaching assistants who has a two year old son. Once he was holding his infant son over his head and cooing at him when the darling one wretched . . . right into daddy’s mouth. Pardon me. I don’t feel so good.
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