Text Speak: What Did You Just Say?

Call me old fashioned.  I still have a flip phone, an iPod, a GPS, and a digital camera.  Not all in one device.  I have four separate devices.  It may surprise you to hear this, but I use my phone to call and text people.  And that's about it, other than occasionally using it as an alarm.
Call me old fashioned again.  When I text, I use proper grammar, punctuation, and sentence structure.  I capitalize letters, use Oxford commas, and, yes, I spell out every single word.  No silly acronyms from me.  Not even an LOL!
As much as I love writing, I often have difficulty expressing my feelings and opinions in a way that my readers can understand.  I especially find it difficult to express myself in text messages.  I'll send a text and worry that the person receiving the text will think I sound bossy or angry.  I may or may not have a small addiction to exclamation points...
When 'text speak' became a thing, I was still pretty young.  I never really got into it, though.  And now, as an adult, I am paying the price for missing out.  I don't understand what other people are trying to express.  Everyday, I find myself on Google.  Today, I googled 'WYD'.  I have seen 'WYD' multiple times on Facebook and I finally got around to looking it up.  'What you doing?'.  Well no wonder I could never figure out what it meant.  That's not even correct grammar!
What's the point of text speak anyways?  Does it really save you that much time?  What are you going to do with that extra 8 seconds you saved by typing 'brb' instead of 'be right back'?
Now, I'm not hatin' on anyone who uses texting short cuts.  No, I'm just expressing what I feel.  With real words.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I've 'got to go' assist my friend who is 'rolling on the floor laughing'.  I mean, who does that?

48-Hours

Every morning when I wake up, the first thing I do is take my medication.  I take two pills to help lessen my anxiety and help me get through the day.
I've missed doses here and there before, but usually of just one of my pills.  I may have pill A, but I forgot to refill pill B.  A couple weeks ago, however, I went two days without taking either pill.  That's 48-hours of me, alone with my thoughts and fears.
I had already called for the refills to be...well...refilled.  But, you know how it is.  Life has a way of grabbing you by the ears and whisking you away.  My life had become pretty hectic.  So I forgot about my refills.

Day 1
The first day of being unmedicated went fairly smoothly.  I had to drive a friend to a doctor's appointment.  I acknowledged the fact that I didn't have any pills to take and told myself I would pick them up on the way home.  That didn't happen.  Life had me by the ears.
It was a perfectly normal day, up until the evening.  I began to feel light headed and nauseous.  My arms and legs got a little shaky.  This had happened before.  Just a side effect of missing one of my pills.  No worries.  I'd pick the pills up in the morning.

Day 2
This was a rough day for me.  It started out like a normal day, but as the day went on, I began to get more and more agitated.  My thoughts began to randomly race around like my brain was trying to win the Indy 500.  I was sitting there, eating dinner, asking myself how I had survived this long.  How was I ever going to pay for school?  I think I need a new car.  Where would that money come from?  Why am I still single?  (To be fair, I'm always asking myself that question.)  I became so overwhelmed with fear that I just wanted everything to end.  I wanted to go to bed and never wake up again.  Yeah, it was pretty intense.  On top of that, the nausea, shakiness, and light headedness had only gotten worse.

The next day, I woke up, ate breakfast, and went straight to the pharmacy.  I was still pretty anxious, but by dinner time, I was back to being myself again.  I had, and have, the same doubts and fears, but they no longer consume me.
The important to thing to note from my experience is that I realized I was not okay.  I realized I needed to get my medication.  I have heard of people, young and old, who decide they are all right, that they don't need to take their medications anymore.  It could be true.  Some people actually do outgrown their mental illnesses, or learn how to live with them.  But the choice to quit medicating is not yours to make alone.  You should always talk to your doctor first.  Get there opinion.  Schedule a follow-up appointment so your doctor can see for themselves how you are doing.
After the 48-hour experience I had, I now know that, as much as hate to admit it, I need my medicine to get through my day.  The next time I run low on pills, I will be grabbing my own ears, thank you very much, and taking myself to the pharmacy.

Adulting: The Worst Decision I Never Made

After ten years of practicing photography, I feel confident in my ability to take good pictures.  After thirteen years of babysitting, I feel confident in my ability to work well with children.  After only one year of blogging, I feel confident in my ability to express my feelings through written word.  But after nine years of being an adult, I am becoming less and less confident in my ability to survive.
Many questions come to mind:

• Why can't I work my dream job without going to college?

• Why are other adults so weird?

And, most puzzling of all:

• Who was the genius who invented money?

Needless to say, I have been struggling at 'adulting' lately.  I want to get my own place, I want to finish school, I want to jump straight into my dream job.  What's holding me back?  Money!
In order to get an apartment, I would need to get a third job.  To continue my education, I would need to get a fourth job.  And a fifth job.  By then, I won't even have time for school.  So maybe I should just quit my jobs (note to boss:  I'm not quitting any time soon!  Don't panic!) and take out a loan...or seven.  That way, I can finish school, get my dream job, and spend the rest of my life earning money to give back to the bank.  This is the American dream, people!
And don't get me started on the privileges of being an adult.  As a child, I longed for the day when I could finally eat a bowl of ice cream without someone telling me I couldn't.  Now that I can, I find that I shouldn't.  I've got to stay healthy.  My quick metabolism is quickly slowing down.  All that ice cream just sits in my gut.  Most men have a beer belly.  I have a mint chocolate chip belly.
Now, back to school.  I hated high school with a passion.  I couldn't wait to get out of there.  Now, I wish I were back, not in high school, per se, but back to going to school for free.  Back to the teachers handing out free copies of the textbooks.  Back to $2 cardboard pizzas instead of $15 salads.  Ok, scratch that.  Maybe I don't miss the food so much.  But you get my point.  I miss the days when things were handed to me on a cheap green, plastic tray rather than having to pay for my silver platter.
The worst thing about an adult, though, is that I had no choice.  Adulthood was thrust upon me.  High school graduation, which should be one of my proudest memories, is now one of my greatest regrets.  I didn't choose the adult life.  The adult life chose me.  And it chose poorly.

It Just Makes Me So Angry!

I have been blessed with a great deal of patience (and humility).  I don't get angry very often.  In fact, the 11-year old once told me that I don't get angry, just frustrated.
Can you keep a secret?  I do get angry.
I get angry when people don't use turn signals.  So I made a game out of it the other day.  A guy in the next lane over obviously wanted to move over to my lane.  He stuck his nose in front of me, but I carefully scooted forward so he couldn't get in.  He backed out.  A couple seconds later, he tried again.  Again, I didn't let him in.  Finally, the turn signal came on.  I slowed down and let the guy move over.
I get angry when adults act like children.  So I quit my job at a restaurant and got a job with people who are supposed to act like children:  children.
I get angry when I see people (children and adults) disrespecting their parents.  So I give my parents hugs and tell them how much I love them.
I get angry when the IRS says I owe them money.  So I write them a check.  Wait...
The point I'm trying to make is that I try to find a positive way to release my anger.  Sure, I'm probably not releasing as much anger that way, but I don't keep it bottled up inside.  God gave us dance music with a lot of bass for a reason!  Rocking out in my car to Zedd and Martin Garrix certainly helps me unleash my anger.
So the next time you're at Walmart walking behind that old lady who takes two steps a minute, don't just quickly brush by her in a minor fit of anger.  Ask her if she needs assistance.  Start a conversation with her.  Make her day brighter.  It'll make your day brighter too.

Ms. Earley's 3rd Grade Class

In January of the year 2000, my whole life changed for the better.  As I have mentioned in previous posts, I was diagnosed with a social anxiety disorder at a young age.  Because of my anxiety, especially my selective mutism, my mom decided it was best for me to be home schooled.  From Kindergarten through 2nd grade, I had the same teacher:  Mrs. Mom (I didn't call her that by the way.  It was just 'mom'.).  Halfway through my 3rd grade year, after being successfully prescribed with medications and treatments, I asked my mom if I could go to public school.  She felt that I was ready.
In the first month of the Millenium, I was enrolled in Harman Elementary and assigned to Ms. Earley's class.  Now imagine, a kid who is terrified of people and doesn't even speak to kids his own age, going to public school.  What had I gotten myself into?!
Fortunately for me, Ms. Earley was the perfect teacher for me at that time in my life.  She was kind and didn't give me funny looks like some adults did when they thought I wasn't looking.  She treated me like she treated her other students:  with love and care.  But not everyone in the classroom was so warm at first.  I got a lot of dirty looks from the girls, and the boys didn't know what to do with me.  But one girl, Jenny, decided to take me under her wing.  And, by some miracle, I was perfectly comfortable with talking to her.  In fact, she became my spokeswomen...er...-girl.  I would whisper things into her ear, and she would repeat what I said.  Ms. Earley even put our desks together so I would feel comfortable answering questions in class, always through Jenny.
As the school year progressed, I became more and more comfortable with my class mates and made plenty of friends, all of whom I was comfortable speaking with.  But, as much as I wanted to, I just couldn't bring myself to talk to Ms. Earley.
I don't remember when it was.  It was probably towards the end of the year.  One day during reading time, I had to use the restroom.  I rose my hand, using the sign for the letter "T" as was required at Harmans.  Ms. Earley didn't see me.  She, too, was reading.  So, after weighing my options, I stood up, walked over to Ms. Earley's desk and asked "May I use the bathroom?"  And you know what she said?  Without looking up from her book (must have been a good one!) she asked "Boy or girl?".  I said that I was a boy.  She looked up from her book, saw who had spoken, and I swear her eyes teared up a little.  She calmly handed me the boy's bathroom pass, as if nothing momentous had occurred.  That is the moment that changed my life.  Instead of excitedly exclaiming "Yes!  You may have the bathroom pass!  You may have all the bathroom passes!", she stayed calm and treated me like a regular student.  Doesn't sound like that big of a deal.  But for me, a child who was used to getting lectured for being impolite for not speaking, a child who was used to being treated delicately, like a China doll, was finally treated like everyone else.
The next day, however, Ms. Earley had added something new to my desk.  A Root Beer scented scratch-and-sniff sticker.  She told me that for everytime I spoke to her, I would get another sticker.  I didn't mind.  Who complains about stickers?  That smell like Root Beer?!  My desk was filled with stickers by the beginning of June.
So at this time in my life, I would just like to thank Ms. Earley and those students in her class.  My life was forever changed.  I saw the beauty and kindness that humanity has to offer.  Because of Ms. Earley's 3rd grade class, I became a changed man...er...boy.


p.s.  Because I started 3rd grade in January, I missed picture day.  So I cheated!  The above picture is actually from Mrs. Resnick's 4th grade class.  But that's another story.

No Tech Day

Last Friday, the boys and I had a No Tech Day.  After struggling to get the teenager out of bed ("What's the point?  I might as well sleep all day.") and listening to the younger boys complain about being bored (after a grueling four minutes), it was time to step up my game.
First came Twister.  The spinner got broken, so that didn't last very long.  Next came wrestling.  That's always fun.  Until it goes too far.  So, it was time to build a fort.
We gathered the chairs from the dining room and made a square.  I had a top sheet ready, but the boys insisted on using every blanket in the house.  The fort we built was huge!  Once the fort was finished we played a game the boys called "Slenderman".  They had thirty seconds to get from the fort to a hiding place.  I then had about two minutes to find them before they got back to the fort.  We had a blast!  Until one of the dogs jumped on top of the fort.  No worries there, though.  The boys fixed it up and made it even stronger than before.
Lunchtime came along while the boys were playing Bop-it or building with Jenga blocks.  We had had such a good day by that point that I decided we could watch one movie, taking a break from the No Tech Day.  After two hours of Jim Carrey fighting thugs while wearing a green mask, we continued our No Tech Day.  Back to Bop-it and Jenga.
After a while, the 11-year old brought out his electric ball.  You know what I'm talking about.  One of those globes that has electricity running through it.  When you put a finger on it, the electricity follows your finger.  He set it up in the middle of the fort.  We spent a good hour and a half in the fort shocking each other.  The boys would put one hand on the globe and use the other hand to go up and down my forearm.  At one point, one the boys asked what was burning.  It was my arm hair.  It smelled awful, but the boys thought it was the coolest thing.  It was actually fairly hot.  Not cool at all.  But, again, we had a blast.
My boss, who I just call 'mom', got home while we were working on MadLibs. The boys started complaining to her about the long, boring, torturous day I had put them through.  But I know better.  They may not realize it, but they enjoyed themselves.  We had rough patches throughout the day, such as calling each other names and hitting each other, but I also saw the boys bonding, which doesn't seem to happen much when I'm around.  They told each other jokes, talked about their trip to the beach they had recently returned from.  They even discussed politics!  Imagine that!  A 13- and 11-year old discussing the state of the Union.  I thoroughly enjoyed my tech free day with these fine young men.  I'm kind of tempted to do it again.  Heaven help those boys!

The Power of Reading

There is nothing more enjoyable, in my opinion, than reading picture books to young children.  Seeing and hearing their reactions is priceless.  Here is a quick list of some favorites that the 5-year old and I both enjoyed.

• The Hair of Zoe Fleefenbacher Goes to School by Laurie Halse Anderson and Ard Hoyt
• The Very Cold, Freezing, No Number Day by Ashley N. Sorenson
• Wiggle by Doreen Cronin
• The Pigeon books by Mo Willems
• The Duckling Gets a Cookie!? by Mo Willems
• It's Hard to Be Five by Jamie Lee Curtis and Laura Cornell
• Dragons Rule, Princesses Drool by Courtney Pippin-Mathur
• The Arthur books by Marc Brown
• Chu's Day by Neil Gaiman
• Froodle by Antionette Portis
• Not a Box by Antionette Portis 
• Baghead by Jarrett J. Krosoczka
• The Boy Who Lost His Bumble by Trudi Esberger
• Pretend by Jennifer Plecas

This is just a handful of books that kept the 5-year old's attention.  This kid used to hate being read to.  He now looks forward to me reading with him.  He even memorizes parts of books and blurts out the words before I do!  My hope is that my reading to him has opened up a new world to him.  I hope that, as he grows up, he continues to read and enjoy the books he reads.  It's becoming more and more difficult to find kids who love reading, so I take pride in knowing that I have assisted at least one child in finding his way to the literary world, where nothing is impossible.  

The Colors of Patriotism

Happy belated Independence Day!  I hope yours was as awesome as mine.  I spent the evening in Harrisburg with some friends.  There was a food truck festival going on with fireworks afterwards.  I found a food truck with a short line, so I bought myself an overpriced pretzel and strawberry lemonade and headed back to where my friends and I agreed we would meet.  I was the first one back.  So, I decided to do some people watching.
Harrisburg, though small, is a city of great diversity.  Looking around, I saw people of many different nationalities and cultures.  I heard many different languages being spoken.  But what stuck out the most was the one thing everyone had in common:  the 4th of July.
Everyone at the festival, as far as I knew, was American.  Even though some people had different colored skin and some people spoke with accents or in completely different languages, everyone was celebrating being an American.  I saw a young Muslim family waving hand-held American flags.  My friends and I sat near an African family, the parents speaking with an accent.  Everyone was so friendly and just having a good time.
This, in my opinion, is what being an American looks like.  Different colored skin.  Different accents and languages.  Different styles of dress.  I thoroughly enjoyed my time in the city, surrounded by my fellow patriots.

The Non Traditional Student

Ok, so I guess I'm still pretty young.  But it doesn't feel that way sometimes.  Especially in school.  I am the 26-year old sitting next to the fresh-out-of-high-school student, usually asking the youngster for help.  It's strange seeing people who graduated high school years after me graduating college before me.  It's honestly starting to annoy me.  But there is no one to blame but myself.
After graduating high school, I immediately registered with the local two year community college.  I then waited a year to begin classes.  I paid everything out of pocket.  No loans, scholarships, or grants.  It was pretty pricey.  So I waited a couple semesters until going back to school.  Now, six years later, I am a Sophomore,  still taking classes at the two year community college.  There are pros and cons to still being in school at my age, though.

Pros:

• Since I've been paying out of pocket, I'm not in debt.
• I've had plenty of time to work to help pay for classes.
• I've changed majors several times.  Fortunately, I haven't taken enough classes to get to far ahead for any majors.  I've pretty much got my generals out of the way.
• After I turned 23-years old, I could no longer claim to be a dependent with my parents.  The amount I was eligible for in grants went way up.  I took my first full-term semester for free!

Cons:

• I'm normally one of the oldest people in my class.
• All my friends have awesome jobs while I'm still trying to figure out the Quadratic formula.

Huh!  Not as many cons as I thought there would be.  And when I think of the cons, I remind myself that, even though it's taking a long time, I  am going to college.  I have friends who were amazing students in high school who showed a lot of promise, then dropped out of college because of drugs or alcohol.  So even though I feel like I'm stuck in a rut, I try to remember that I am moving forward. I might not get to where I want to be right away, but I am still making my way to the finish line.

Someone to Look Up to

When I was a Cub Scout, many moons ago, I remember going into the gymnasium at the church to play basketball after Den Meeting.  My fellow Cub Scouts and I would play Knockout with the leaders.  And we always had a blast.  Until the Boy Scouts came in.  The older boys would get a hold of all the basketballs and start their own game, forcing us younger boys off the court.  This always made me so mad.  We were there first!  Needless to say, I didn't really like being around the Boy Scouts.  Or any other teenage boys, for that matter.  They weren't people that I felt like I could look up to.
Everyone needs a good role model in their life.  It can be a parent, a teacher or leader, a friend, or even a friend's parent.  Why only have one?  Have as many as you want!
In my life working as a manny, a respite care provider, a Sunday School teacher, and Big Brother, there are a lot of little eyes looking up at me, watching what I do.  Being a role model comes naturally to me  (I know, toot toot!  There goes Philip tooting his own horn again!).  I love being around children.  For me, they are much easier to get along with than most adults.  In all honesty, I think a lot of my role models are the children I have worked with.  While I do my best to set a good example to the kids around me, little do they know that I am learning from them.  Be yourself, be honest, don't care what other people think, love unconditionally.  A lot can be learned from children.
My goal in life has always been to change the world, even if it's just one person at a time.  I often feel like I am failing at this.  I'm not seeing the fruits of my labors.  But I get surprised sometimes.
A couple of examples.  One day in Cub Scouts (as a leader, now, not as a Scout), I had the boys write thank you letters to someone they look up to.  One of the boys wrote a letter for me.  Now, let me tell you, this boy is insane!  Insanely busy, active, hyper, and talkative.  I felt like I was getting nowhere with this boy.  So you can understand my surprise when this young boy handed me the letter, thanking me for all that I have done for him to make him a better person.  I was deeply touched.
The second example is the 5-year old I take care of.  I had to take a day off for CPR training and the little guy was very stressed out about being with the back-up sitter.  I didn't realize this at the time.  So the week before my day off, I was joking around with the 11-year old about how I had the day off and I was never coming back.  I heard a loud "WHAT?!" from the other room.  The 5-year old came running in with tears in his eyes.  I asked what the matter was.  "You said something mean!" he told me.  I  apologized and explained that I was just joking around with his older brother.  This seemingly insignificant event showed me that, even though he never said anything before, the 5-year old looked up to me.  He felt safe with me.  This is an important thing for a child to feel.  That they can trust someone.
Look around you.  Are you alone?  Are you with people your age?  Younger people?  How do you act around these people?  How should you act around these people?  Ask yourself these questions when you are with others.  Are you the kind of person who takes a basketball from a group of children?  Or are you someone to look up to?

The Manny Diaries pt. 3

Step aside Jo Frost!  There's a new sheriff in town.  And his name is Supermanny!
Nothing has changed since last week's post.  I still love my job.  But there are challenges.  Summer, for example.  What do I do with three boys in the summer that they'll all enjoy?  And how do I discipline in a way that is effective, yet creative?  After a lot of contemplation, I've finally discovered the answers to both questions.

Question #1:  What do I do with three boys in the summer that they'll all enjoy?

Keep the boys' interests in mind.  Ask them what they want to do.  Find ways to make things happen, but don't be afraid to say no.  The 12-year old wants to do some expensive things, such as paintball and Hershey Park.  He understands that these are costly activities, so they may or may not happen.  The younger boys are a little easier to please.  Just give them a net and some water shoes and take them to the creek and they're set for hours.  Free can be fun!
Another thing to do with the boys this summer is to get them out of their comfort zones.  The boys despise reading.  So what did we do yesterday?  We got signed up for the library's Summer Reading Program, which, by the way, is free.  Did I mention that free can be fun?  The boys were given sheets to keep track of their reading.  They get to mark off every time they read for ten minutes and eventually earn prizes.  The 12-year old read for an hour yesterday!  That blew my mind!  It just takes a little motivation.
Every Thursday, the library will have a different show or demonstration.  For example, today, the boys and I went to see a science show.  Next week is a magic show.  I'm super excited about Thursday mornings now.



Question #2:  How do I discipline in a way that is effective, yet creative?

I had a blast with this!  My creative juices have really been pumping for the past month or so.  I even have pictures of my creations!

This is Beastboy from Teen Titans Go.  This show is always on!  I've probably seen every episode sixteen times by now.  So, since Beastboy is such a well known character for the 5-year old, I decided to use him as my example.  As you can see in the pictures, Beastboy has listening ears, watchful eyes, a respectful mouth, gentle hands, and gentle feet.  These are all characteristics that the 5-year old needs to work on.  When the 5-year old, say, hits one of the dogs...

...Beastboy loses his hands.  Beastboy is a whipping boy of sorts.  But the 5-year old gets very offended when his whipping boy gets punished.  Doesn't sound like the 5-year old is getting disciplined, though, huh?  If Beastboy loses all his detachable parts, the 5-year old loses a privilege.  No more iPad for the rest of the day.  Or no more TV for the rest of the day.  With Beastboy, discipline is still happening, but in a way that the 5-year old can understand.

What's the best way to keep zombies out of your house during the zombie apocalypse?  Plant a garden, obviously.  The 11-year old loves playing games on his iPad.  He's been playing a lot of Plants vs. Zombies lately.  Thus the plant and the zombie.  But enough about the game.
On to the discipline.  You know how in golf the less points you have the better?  The same is true in this case.  I took all of the 11-year old's worst habits then made him make the point system.  I helped.  He yells a lot, so for yelling, he only wanted one point.  I think we finally agreed on three points.  For lying, which he is doing very well on, he wanted five points.  That's not how this works.  The more you do something, such as yelling, the more points you get, in hopes that you will think before you act.  The points limit is ten points.  After getting ten points, the 11-year old loses his iPad for the day.  If things continue, he'll lose his Playstation.  But don't worry!  He can redeem himself.  By apologizing or using his manners, he can have points deducted to get back down to zero.  If we're having a really rough day and we're at nine points, the 11-year old has the option of cheating to get a clean slate.  For a cheat, he simply needs to perform a chore, such as folding laundry, taking out the trash, or helping with dinner.  After performing the chore, the score sheet goes back to zero.  And if he acts up again, we start all over.
The important thing about this idea, in my opinion, was giving the 11-year old the power to make the point system (even if I did have to guide him a little bit).  This shows him that I care about his opinion and I trust his judgement.

The 12-year old is developing the mouth of a sailor.  So what to do?  I Googled alternatives to swear jars and found...nothing.  So a swear jar it is.  Actually, it's a What the What?? jar.  But, instead of the 12-year old putting money into the jar, we'll just be using tokens.  If he gets five tokens put in the jar, he loses the Xbox for the day.  Ten tokens, he loses his phone.  I prefer this method over the paying money method because nobody benefits.  With the traditional swear jar, someone (usually the parents) benefits from the money in the jar.  With the What the What?? jar, the only thing being served is discipline.

This little guy is the Gadget Bag.  In the past, the boys' mom used to hide their iPads.  Give the boys five minutes and they either have the iPads in their hands, or the house is a mess from the search.  The Gadget Bag is a form of trust, on both the boys' part, and mom's part.  And mine, I guess.  When the "gadgets" aren't in use, they go in the bag.  This way, the boys always know where their beloved iPads are.  But, heaven forbid, an iPad should be taken from the Gadget Bag without permission.  Punishment is, you guessed it, no more iPad for the rest of the day.  I love this method, which I thought I came up with myself only to find other people use it also.  The Gadget Bag shows that the boys' mom and I trust them enough to do the right thing by keeping the iPads in the bag.  It also shows the boys that they can trust mom and I.  The days of hiding things from them is over.  Trust is an important thing, especially amongst family members.

My job couldn't be more perfect.  I am extremely happy with where I am in my life right now.  I love working with the boys and helping to raise three fine gentlemen.  After almost eight months with the boys, I have seen so much change in all three of them.  Now I know why Supernanny does what she does.  She sees the fruits of her labors.  And her fruits are life changing.  Even though I may think as myself as Supermanny, I know I still have a ways to go before I can take on Jo Frost in nanny to manny combat.  But she had better get ready, because here I come.

Don't Worry, Be Happy

I haven't told you guys recently how much I love my job as a manny.  I absolutely love it!  It is the perfect job for me at this time in my life.  I have fun working with the boys.  I never know what is going to happen next.  The boys keep me entertained with their jokes and silly antics.  And their mother, my boss, is awesome!  She goes out of her way to make sure I am happy and comfortable.  She is a great listener and thoughtfully considers any ideas I may come up with for the boys.  Could it get any better than this?
I didn't always have the perfect job, though.  Before my manny job came along, I worked as a shift manager at a restaurant.  Let me tell you, that is not a dream job. I was miserable as a manager.  I was always tired and irritable.  There were only three things that made me happy.  The end of the shift, my bed, and my cat.  I was a manager for about three out of my seven years at the restaurant.  Way too long!
I've worked other jobs along the way, too.  I worked retail.  That lasted three months.  I worked at a gas station.  That lasted two weeks.  I just couldn't seem to find my happy place.  I knew I wanted to work with kids, but, as I mentioned in The Manny Diaries, child care is a tough place to be in if you are not a female.  So when I finally got hired to work with the boys, I almost immediately quit my management job.  And after some time, I noticed some changes, which my older sister just confirmed for me.  She told me that I seem happier. There are hundreds of things that make me happy, not just three.  I still get very tired after a day of chasing a 5-year old around, but I don't dread going back to work the next day.  I look forward to it.
Don't be afraid of changing jobs.  Finances are important, but I believe happiness is more important.  I am proof that doing what you love can change your outlook on life.  I went from being Scrooge (A Christmas Carol), always negative and hating everything, to Buddy (Elf), finding the good in everything and always striving to be happy.  Pass the happiness on like a disease.  That's what I try to do everyday, now.  Happiness is contagious.  Don't be afraid to catch it and share it.

Choose the Right

Anyone who has known me for the last seven-ish years knows that I have a thumb ring similar to the one seen above.  When people ask me what the letters stand for, I hesitantly tell them "Choose the Right".  I get embarrassed.  This little phrase is something that you teach children at a young age.  Choose the right.  Make good choices.  For me, the ring is more of a fashion statement than a reminder.
Today, though, my ring was a reminder.  The 5-year old I take care of decided to stick some rocks in someone's exhaust pipe at the park.  It's crazy what can happen when you turn your back for ten seconds!  Anyway, the 5-year old and I hung out in the parking lot until the owner of the vehicle arrived.  I told her what had happened and she thanked me for my honesty and took my phone number.  She than gave the 5-year old some wet wipes to clean off his hands and accepted his apology.  She thanked me for my honesty and went on her way.  She was very nice about everything.
In all honesty, though, I was just going to leave a note for her.  I had no idea how long she would be at the park.  I didn't really want to wait.  But she showed up while I was writing the note, which caused me some anxiety.  I thought, maybe I should just leave.  She doesn't need to know who put rocks in her exhaust pipe.  The whole situation made me feel extremely uncomfortable.  After talking to this woman, however, I felt reassured that I had done the right thing.  I mean, I knew I was doing the right thing, but my anxiety was telling me otherwise.
This was pretty much a situation straight out of the children's Sunday School manuals at my church.  "What should Philip do?  What would you do in this situation?"  I'm glad that I was able to overcome my anxiety and do what was right.  After almost eight years of wearing my CTR ring, I was finally able to use it as the reminder it was made to be.