Next week we start moving Mom and Dad to Michigan. This is a piece I wrote about our family and moving for a writing class during Spring semester. Gonna miss you, Mom and Dad!

Our last name is Winters. In fun sometimes people ask if we change our name with the seasons. Mom has a “Winter Wall” in her house. It’s filled with cross stitched and embroidered scenes of winter–snowflakes and snowmen. Nearest to the door to Dad’s office is one that I did. It’s a snowman couple, the husband in a top hat and the wife in a hat with holly on it. There’s a single red berry in the holly. To the left of the husband I’d embroidered “30 years of Winters…” for their 30th anniversary.

Kitty-corner to my embroidery is a quilt wall-hanging Mom made. It’s redwork embroidery–one little snowman in each square, sashed and bordered with red fabric and snowman beads. It was her first go at quilting, something that I had been doing for four years. Now we go shopping together, take classes together, and sew together.

When I was 12 Mom and Dad came into my bedroom and told me that we were moving to Minnesota. Dad had accepted a position at a college in Minnesota. I cried a little, then asked whether I could have a room without green carpet. There was green carpet everywhere upstairs. “We will find a house without green carpet,” Dad said.

A few weeks later, the first weekend in May, we drove our Dodge minivan to Minnesota. I stayed with my brothers Ben and Jon while mom and dad looked for a place. When Mom and Dad took us to see the house they’d chosen, my bedroom had a shag carpet from the 70’s. Mom and Dad promised to replace it with whatever I’d like. I told them I liked pink. The pictures Mom took of the house show a dusting of snow on the ground. It was a great topic of discussion. “Are you sure you want to move somewhere that snows the first weekend of May?” their friends would ask. Mom and Dad were sure.

After I graduated from high school and went off to college, Dad went back to Northwestern University to get his PhD. I joined them in the Chicago area two years later. While working on his PhD, Dad accepted a part-time position as the director of a learning center that offered free tutoring to children with dyslexia, his specialty. When his PhD was completed, the organization offered him a position as the Executive Director of Clinical Affairs for the entire organization. The position was in Massachusetts.

Dad was more unsure about this move than any other they had made. They had spent their lives in the Midwest and both of their families were in the Midwest. He brought Mom to Massachusetts to see the Lexington office where he would be working, to see the area, and to look for a house. They found a brick colonial in what used to be Fort Devens, and they fell in love with it. And then it snowed. It was the third weekend in May.

By then I had a job as a marketing assistant at a commercial real estate firm in downtown Chicago, and I had started taking evening classes at the DuPage Community College. I was enjoying my writing classes with Thomas Montgomery-Fate. When I told him that my parents were moving to Massachusetts, he suggested I go with them because Boston has so many great universities. I dismissed the thought.

My roommate moved back home to go to cosmetology school, and I wasn’t having any luck replacing her. The washing machine plumbing went kaplooey, and I was going to have to move to another apartment while they fixed it. When Mom came over to help pack up my kitchen she asked, “Why don’t you move to Massachusetts with us?” They’d bought this big house, and there would be plenty of room for my Cairn Terrier Toto and me. I could save some money and go back to school.

I agreed. Thanks to the plumbing issue, I could break my lease. That weekend we packed up my apartment. The movers came on Sunday, moved my stuff to Mom and Dad’s, and stacked it all in their living room. The couch was on its side. The living room was open with a cathedral ceiling and the boxes were stacked past the landing of the second floor.

We’ve been here for almost seven years. At the end of January, Dad found a posting for a position in academia, his dream since he got his PhD. He thought he’d worked himself into a niche, thought he had little chance, but he applied, hoping for at least a phone interview. He got that phone interview and then flew to Michigan for a face-to-face interview. He was offered the job as Department Head for the Special Education Department and Eastern Michigan University.

Dad wouldn’t accept the job without letting Mom see the area. The Wednesday before they left, Dad checked the weather. He called Mom and told her, “There’s no snow forecast.”

The day before they left, Mom called me. “It’s going to snow when Dad and I are in Michigan this weekend.”

“You’re kidding me!” I exclaimed. “Well, that’s it then. It’s settled. You guys are moving to Michigan.

Ypsilanti got four inches of snow that weekend. It was the first weekend in April. Mom says the new house will have a Winter room, not just a wall. I call dibs on that room, as long as there’s no green carpet.

Countdown to graduation: 12 hours, 27 minutes and 3 seconds. Last night was the Honors Program Reception. Each Honors Program graduate (44 this year!) received their medal and had a little profile read about them. Joyce, the Honors Program Coordinator, writes lovely profiles for each graduate each year. You can see them read my profile here:  Receiving my Honors Award.

This is the text of my profile…

Valerie Winters, or Miss Val, as she is known to her after-school program students, has an endless supply of creativity, which she expresses in many media: her blog, “Beauty and the Bug,” creative writing including beautiful fairy tales, and truly amazing works in textiles–yarn, quilting, and embroidery. Each of her stories has an accompanying quilt, and she produced a quilt and piece of fiction for an English independent study this semester. Her creativity carried over into her thesis, aptly titled “the Potter and the Clay: Oral History as Literature,” for which she received support from the undergraduate research fund. Prof. Taylor Stoehr directed her thesis. Valerie also tutored English and Psychology during her undergraduate career, and she is an avid “Buffista”–that is, a fan and scholar of the series “Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” She enjoys the devoted companionship of her Cairn Terrier, Toto. She graduates cum laude with Honors in English. After graduation, Valerie plans to work in marketing or communications, hopefully for a non-profit, while she writes the five books currently stuck in her head.

For all of my creativity, I have never considered myself an artist. I think it’s because I can’t draw. Now, when I say I can’t draw, I mean I can’t draw. My kiddos at work think my stick figures look funny. For months after I started working with them, they wouldn’t believe I couldn’t draw. They would always beg me to add things to the pictures they were working on, and I’d say, “Oh, trust me; you don’t want me to do that.”

Finally, one day, my preschooler Albert convinced me to draw something on his picture that he wasn’t sure how to draw. I can’t remember what it was, but I’ll never forget what he said, “Miss Val, you ruined my picture!” From then on, I only got asked to draw things when the kids want a good laugh.

On Tuesday, Rachel, one of my first-graders, asked me to play a game with her. She grabbed two pieces of paper and two markers. She instructed me to draw a square in the middle of the paper, and she drew a square in the middle of her paper. “Now draw another square in the middle, Miss Val,” she continued to instruct and model. “Good. Now draw a person in the middle. It’s ok if it’s just a stick person.”

I did as I was instructed, wondering what this game was.

“Now Miss Val, give the big square alien ears.” Next she told me to draw a chair. She didn’t like the way I was drawing it, so she stopped me, and said, “No, Miss Val. Like this,” pointing to her picture where she was modeling what I should be drawing.

We drew a person sitting on the chair. I gave that person hair. We wrote messages on the bottom of the paper and drew a smiley face. “Rachel, what is this game?” I asked.

“It’s not a game, silly! I’m trying to teach you how to draw!”

For all of my creativity, I am not an artist. But, it’s ok. I’ll keep learning. I’ll keep letting the kiddos teach me. And I’ll smile when my preschooler, Emily, tells me that my dirt cooking activity (chocolate pudding with crushed Oreos and gummy worms) is “clever.” Yes, I’m ok with being creative and not an artist.

I had promised count down updates back on June 27, 2008, but somehow I never really did that. So, here I sit, with my computer flashing 12 days, 1 hour, and 40 minutes, and I feel the urge to give you all a countdown update. It may be one of my great productive procrastination techniques, but I’m going to go with it.

There’s been something about this semester that’s been weird. I haven’t had time to focus on graduation and the excitement that comes along with that because life has been full of surprises (and little crises) that have needed my attention. This is what happens when you’re living life to the fullest, I suppose. It’s probably also a picture of what is to come. Honestly, though? I’ve been exhausted this semester–running from one task to the next with really quite too much on my plate.

But here I am, 12 days, 1 hour, and 36 minutes away, and I feel this energy that I’ve never felt before. I jump out of bed in the mornings to get right to work. I have a lot to complete before next Thursday (when ALL of my professors decided to make final projects due), but there is a belief that I will and can get it done, if I just work hard and keep pushing. So, I push, and I work, and I drink my coffee and put one foot in front of the other. And the creative juices are cooperating! They’re flowing and helping me get through. Go figure! They’re actually there when I need them!

Things are coming together, readers. I’m going to walk at graduation! Then I’m going to finish up a few things over the summer, and I’ll be a girl with a bachelor’s degree. The energy? It’s high, exciting, and contagious! 12 days, 1 hour, and 33 minutes to go!

I just posted two quilt auctions over at ebay. The first is for this completed quilt:

You can find that auction here: Zig-Zag Quilt

The other auction is for a customized quilt. For details and pictures of the fabric see the auction here: Custom Quilt.

Go! Take a look! Bid!

In theory, I love Spring. In actuality, I dread the allergies that come along with all that beauty and growth. It is impossible, though, to not revel in the joy of Spring when you work with children. Well, I suppose it is possible, but it is unpossible for me. Their joy is contagious, and it amazes me what they convince me to do.

Despite forecasts of downpours the whole week, we’ve had two absolutely gorgeous days. It has sparked the imagination of the kids in my after school program, and we have just had so much fun. Monday we were outside for most of the after school time. The older kiddos played cops and robbers, and the preschoolers decided that I had an orchestra in my tummy. Hilarity ensued. Sticks were used to “conduct” the orchestra in my tummy. Then I had emergency surgery to remove the orchestra after I made the mistake of telling one of the kiddos that music is for everyone, and I shouldn’t have eaten the orchestra.

And, of course, there is the monkey business of being on a playground–climbing as high as you can climb, and then jumping and giving Miss Val a heart attack. Maybe that part’s not so fun. But, reminding one of those monkeys that he needs to be a good example for the preschoolers, and overhearing him say, “Being a good example STINKS!” is comedy gold.

Then there are the popsicles! Oh, how I love the popsicles. Spring is made for popsicles, or popsicles are made for Spring. I’m not sure which it is. But, either way, the popsicles are the cure for every ill!

But the real fun? The dirt! The sand! The dandelions! I’ll never forget my first day of work with these kiddos over a year ago. One of my kindergarteners was making a total mess with the glue. When I commented, “Boy, you’re making a mess, Rachel!” she responded, “My mom says that if you don’t get messy, you didn’t have any fun!”

And that has become my motto as well. I judge how much fun a day is by how much I have to clean up. I suppose the mess could annoy me, but I have embraced the mess because I really do know it means the kids had the maximum amount of fun. Add in the outdoors, and the mess multiplies exponentially.

If that is the motto and goal, then today we had an awful lot of fun. There were dandelion tiaras, sand-covered butts–well, really, sand-covered everythings–mud and dirt and grass stains and all things messy. I remembered why on earth I don’t wear dress pants and dress shoes to work! There will be a shower before I put this sandy body into bed tonight! And a load of laundry to see if I can save those pants. But, fun was had by all. Kiddos, thank you for reminding Miss Val what is so much fun about Spring!

Achoo!

Every once in a while something catches me off-guard and affects me in ways that I would have never guessed. Usually these are “bad” things that cause anxiety attacks, nightmares, insomnia, and other “fun” symptoms. Fortunately, life is occasionally kind, and the good can hit as strongly and cause joy like nothing else. Today was one of those days.

I hadn’t even planned to pick up my cap and gown today. I figured I would wait until closer to graduation. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to wear it or need it before then. Also, I’ve been kind of “eh” about graduation. I’m going to walk on May 29, but I won’t technically graduate until August 20th, so it didn’t really feel real or important. Truth be told, I have been considering skipping the event all together, but I knew that would really disappoint my parents, so I’ve stuck with the plan to walk at graduation.

This morning I got an e-mail from the Honors Coordinator, Joyce. She asked if I’d picked up my cap and gown yet. I had a moment of panic. “Did I miss it?” I wondered. I responded that no, I hadn’t picked it up yet. She e-mailed me back and asked if she could go with me to get it. Each year she likes to go with a student to pick up their cap and gown, and she wanted to go with me. I was so touched! How could I say no? So, I added it to my list of things to do on campus today.

We had a nice chat, and I picked up my cap and gown, then I ran off to class. After class, I needed to take care of a few more things on campus, and I found an open computer to check e-mail and Facebook. I tried to post that I’d picked up my cap and gown, but the computer thwarted me. When I got to my car, I sent a text message to about 20 people, letting them know I’d just picked it up. Within two seconds I was getting responses. It was honestly a little overwhelming. They came in so fast.

And there, in my car, with rain patting on the window (in the farthest away parking lot in the world, I might add), it hit me. I’d been waiting to hold this package for 14 years. 14 years! And I got a little verklempt. Ok, I got a lot verklempt. I had to pull myself together so I could drive to work.

When I got to work, I grabbed the package and went down the hallway to show my boss (who is also the first-grade teacher). She wasn’t in her room; she was in a meeting with the headmaster, so I headed back to the gym, kind of disappointed that I couldn’t share my excitement. In the hallway, the kindergarten teacher saw me and said, “Do you go to UMass Boston? I’d recognize that package anywhere! You must be graduating this year. Congratulations!”

Turns out her husband brought home the exact same package yesterday! Ah, the excitement!

Eventually my boss got out of her meeting, and I chased her down to her room. I asked her if I could borrow the class’s share bag, and even though I think she hadn’t had the greatest day, she indulged me. I showed her the package, and she knew exactly what it was. She shrieked and gave me a great big hug, and I started crying all over again.

I mean, really. Who knew that the most expensive, ugliest ceremonial gown in the world, made out of the crappiest fabric ever would make a girl so excited…and to be so caught off-guard!

I spent the rest of the afternoon showing off the cap and gown to parents and students and teachers and really, anyone whose attention I could get. I got hugs from all of my parents. Rachel, one of my first-graders, thought I should go ahead and put it on right then and there and model it for them. I told her that it’s bad luck to wear the gown before graduation day. I was kidding, but I suspect she took me seriously and will be warped for life! I had dinner with Dad tonight, and showed him too. Then, the moment after I walked Toto after getting home, I took the cap and gown out of the package and hung them up. After all, it’s got wrinkles that need to hang out! (And pictures needed to be taken!)

So, now, I’m sharing my joy with the rest of the world. World, today I picked up my cap and gown. I’ve worked 14 years for this. It’s been countless hours of writing and reading and pulling my hair out (and the hair of everyone around me). It’s taken the support of hundreds of patient people. It’s taken encouragement and pushing from countless professors. It’s taken a lot of therapy. It’s cost a lot of money. And today it was all worth it. Because today, I picked up my cap and gown.

* * *

FYI…Save the date! My graduation party will be on the afternoon of Saturday, August 8, 2009. I’d love to see everyone there. Stay tuned for more information!

There is something about being up in the early morning. The still, the quiet, inspires me like no other time of the day. Today is no different.

I woke up with a coughing fit at around 3am. After getting some cough medicine and water, I decided to try to watch Gilmore Girls until I was tired again. Well, Gilmore Girls ended, and I was still wide awake. It was about 4am. I decided to just get to work. Since it’s this early, I’m not being distracted by incoming e-mails, posts on my favorite Internet communities and FaceBook. No. It’s just me and my coffee, all cozy on my bed, surrounded by books and notes to get through with my fancy post-it tabbed highlighters.

 Ah, early morning, how I love you! Now, back to work…

It’s been a while since I posted, and this was too much of a gem to keep to myself until morning. I’m at my parents’ this weekend, helping them get ready to start showing their house (a story for another time and another essay, which is in progress), and we’ve been going through boxes and sorting *stuff*. Towards the end of this evening, Mom found some boxes with childhood treasures and memorabilia. She had jewelry from her mom, her first pearls from her dad, her Sunday School pins (which tracked like 11 years of perfect attendance!), and all kinds of other fun and cool stuff.

She also found some stuff from my childhood, though–including a couple of notes to the Tooth Fairy. In one, I wrote the following poem. I kept the integrity of the original spelling, punctuation, and capitalization, for authenticity, of course. We’re not sure how old I was when this was written, but it would have been before I learned cursive, since it was printed.

A Tooth Fairy

A tooth fairy is a pretty little lady,
who at night creeps,
into a room without a peep.
_     Under a pillow,
so calmly waiting,
she takes the tooth,
from the pooch,
puts it in her invisible pocket,
and flies away to her buitiful locket.
_     But,
before she flies away,
She would lay a little gift,
In extange for the tooth,
You gave her.

To: The Tooth Fairy
From: Valerie

This past week was Spirit Week at the school where I run an after school program. Friday was “Character Day.” I was going to throw on a ball gown and tiara and be a princess. But the ball gown didn’t fit, so I ran around for 30 minutes trying to figure out Plan B. Finally, I decided that I would just go as Princess Miss Val and wear what I wanted with the tiara. I pulled out my favorite skirt, which I had purchased at an 80% off sale last year. It’s foofy and gorgeous. I can twirl in it! I thought for a second about whether or not that was a good idea, since I might be called on to save a treasure that made its way to some dirt-filled place, under a table or under the tire swing, and I remembered that the skirt was actually cheaper than most of my pairs of jeans.

Off to work I went, tiara on my head. My fourth-graders saw me first. Oh, they went nuts. “Miss Val, who are you?”

“I’m Princess Miss Val!”

“Nice. Princess Miss Val is pretty!”

I told our headmaster that sometimes even big girls need to be princesses occasionally. He said he thought that they needed to be princesses more often–to remember to be a kid.

When my preschoolers came in to our space, they were so excited. “Miss Val, who are you?”

“I’m Princess Miss Val!”

“There’s no character named Princess Miss Val! You’re silly!”

I suspected this would come up, so I had a response prepared, “Well, now there is a character named Princess Miss Val! Sometimes you need to be your own character in your own story.”

Angelina Ballerina had a hard time understanding this concept, and said, “Well, Miss Val, you look just like Sleeping Beauty, so I’m going to call you Sleeping Beauty, or Aurora, if that’s ok.”

I gave her a kiss on the top of her little mouse head, and I told her she could call me whatever she wanted.

I’ve been known to grocery shop in a tiara. I’ve also been known to go bowling in a tiara. I find that difficult moments require a new reality. Sometimes becoming your own character helps you get through. I love the looks when I go grocery shopping in a tiara. I recognize them, laugh, and usually get a smile back. Goofy? Yes. Effective? Yes.

Several years ago, when I was really struggling, a bunch of friends got together and bought me a plane ticket to Los Angeles for a gathering. As part of that gathering, we went bowling in ball gowns and tiaras. I had not been bowling since ending an abusive relationship ten years earlier. I hadn’t been able to bowl since. That boy was a serious bowler, and he didn’t like my bowling for fun. It took me ten years, good friends surrounding me, and a tiara to pick up a bowling ball.

A dear friend, Joe, recognized that something was going on that day. He didn’t know what, and he didn’t push to find out. No, he made a bet with me. I don’t remember the terms of the bet, but whoever won had to wear the tiara for the rest of the day, as we wandered around LA. He won, and I survived bowling.

Angelina Ballerina was my last kiddo to be picked up on Friday. I asked her, “Do you think if I go to the grocery store in my tiara that I’ll find my prince charming?”

“Miss Val, there’s no such thing as a real prince charming!”

Maybe not, but I stopped at the grocery store just in case.

Have you ever seen that Ikea commercial (click “Ikea Commercial” to see video) where the kids are fighting, and the mom comes in and says, “Someone here needs a time out!”? And the kids watch the mom go shut herself in her beautiful sanctuary of a room, filled with things purchased at Ikea. I’ve been feeling the need for a time out, recently. But, instead of shutting myself in my room, I’ve jumped into my work as an after school program director. I need that two and a half hours a day to be a break from all the craziness that is invading my life right now.

This week has been especially fun. It’s Spirit Week at school, so each day there is some fun way to dress up. Monday was crazy hair/crazy hat day. Tuesday was clash day. Yesterday was pajama day. What is more fun that going to school (or work!) in your jammies? I’ll tell you. Nothing.

Wednesday is cooking day in after care. This is the kiddos’ favorite day of the week. We cook or bake something, then watch a movie while it’s in the oven. They are also especially well-behaved on Wednesdays, because they know if they act up, I’ll cancel the activity.

I wanted to do something a little different yesterday, and I needed a time out activity for myself–some sort of release. Well, I had heard some of my friends talking about blowing up Peeps in the microwave. I thought, “How fun!” But, I had to figure out how to make this an educational or cooking activity. So, we made s’mores. Each kiddo got a graham cracker, which they put on their paper plate. Then they picked which Peep they wanted. We had orange, pink, and green chicks and blue bunnies. We went around the room exploding the peeps–20 seconds in the microwave, and they were perfect. The kiddos placed some chocolate on top of that, and finished their s’more. The activity was a hit.

And it was just the release I needed. I decided that when life hands you lemons, don’t make lemonade; go to work in your pajamas and blow up Peeps in the microwave.