Complacency. The word itself almost sounds inviting. Come, place and see… like a haunting whisper, drawing you in. What you don’t know about that sweet sound reeling you in like a child after the pied piper, is that it keeps you captive. Once its soft warm grip is upon you, it tightens. At first you…
Happy Monday Morning! Congratulations, you made it through another week. I am pretty sure Team Csordas is trying to drain every glittery brain cell I have left and I would love to share with you some evidence.
Those of you that know Team Csordas well, are familiar with this story. For those of you that are new to the craziness, I feel it is important to paint a little background picture of a time when life upped the chaos ante and forced our family to understand the importance of building our village.
If you are anything like me, and have a plethora of children around you all the time, you may be familiar with the phrase, “Just worry about you.” Let me be clear, I don’t condone this phrase in a worldly sense, just in a, stop trying to parent your siblings sense.
Toast. While never really a favorite breakfast food of mine, the idea of toast has always been somewhat comforting. I remember it as a peace-offering to a revolting stomach, a crunchy delight paired with my grandma’s famous tuna salad, and warm and doughy when my mom handed it over on a cold morning slathered in butter and cinnamon sugar. A bit scratchy on the outside but softer as we sink our teeth in the meat.
My son is obsessed with cars. Anything with wheels is a highlight in his day and the captor of his attention. His reports from preschool reinforce this love of vehicles as they document his “plan” for his work time. 98.8 percent of the time “play with cars/trucks” is listed, while the other 0.2 percent consists of him telling his teacher he will build with blocks or read books; he builds garages for cars and seeks out pages full of fire trucks and police cruisers.
With the recent milestone of all my children becoming school aged, I decided it may be smart to look for a job outside of the home. A friend of mine informed me that the small private school her children attended was looking for an Art Teacher and thought it would be a great fit for me. While I do not have an art degree and have never formally taught art, I had that sparkly feeling every time I thought about the possibility. So, I spend many nights at the computer until well into the wee hours of the morning, working on a resume and cover letter. I decided to be real, to be brave and give it a shot. Because, if you never go after what you want, you certainly will never attain it, right? Below I present to you the actual cover letter that I hand delivered with my resume, in my best, pretend you are an Art Teacher outfit, to the school.
Oh yes, it is the that time, my friends. The weekend has ended. We must set alarms and rise, however, shinning for so many seems to be optional. We must face what the day and week have in store for us. I wish I could say that we do that here with honor and grace,…
We relocated about a month ago and this week the kids started at their new school. The adjustment has been tougher than I anticipated, since I see my kiddos as resilient, resourceful, social creatures, who are able to adapt to new situations with success. In this case, I had a sobbing pre-teen who was insisting she will never have any friends again and clinging to me in the kitchen well after bedtime.