This is a repost from December 2008.  Just a little reminder to myself of the magic of Christmas…

I remember the joy of believing in Santa when I was a child.  I remember my dad pointing out Rudolph’s nose lighting up the night sky on Christmas Eve.  I remember being too excited to sleep, yet somehow sleeping anyway.  I remember waking up on Christmas morning with my stocking at the foot of my bed (really a clever move by my parents to keep us kids in bed a little bit longer).  I remember sitting at the top of the stairs with my brother, the anticipation growing, while my dad set up the video camera downstairs.  In our house, Santa didn’t wrap the presents, and there was something truly magical in that moment when I was still on the stairs but could see the pile of gifts from Santa.

I was in fourth grade when I learned the truth about Santa Claus.  I went to a friend’s house after school one day, shortly before Christmas.  I don’t even know how Santa came up, but I remember very clearly her saying to me, “You don’t really still believe in Santa, do you?”  And she laughed.  I laughed too, “Of course I don’t.”  But the truth was, I did still believe.

Did I still believe that a man in a sleigh with magical reindeer flew around the world delivering gifts to all the world’s children in just one night?  Well, not really.  But, I also didn’t believe that Santa was an elaborate ruse thought up by parents.  I still believed in…something…but I wasn’t sure just what it was.

I went home and talked to my dad.  If anyone would know the truth about Santa, it was my dad.  Dad told me that my friend was wrong.  There was such a person as Santa Claus.  No, he didn’t fly around in a magical sleigh on Christmas Eve, but he had been a very real person.  That was the day that I learned about Saint Nicholas.  He was a protector of children and had a reputation for secret gift-giving, thus he became the role model for Santa Claus.

So, yes, at 29 years of age, I still believe in Santa Claus.  I believe in the power of giving to those we love and to those in need.  I believe in the power of one person to make a difference in the lives of many.  I believe in the magic of Christmas, and I cannot wait to share the story of Santa Claus and Saint Nicholas with my own children.

Merry Christmas!

So, Lacey tagged me for this fun photo meme a few weeks ago, and I finally got around to doing it!  I was supposed to open my first photo folder, and post the 10th photo in it and tell the story behind it.  Here’s my photo:

Obviously, this is a picture of Ted and I.  It’s from 2003, and we are at a bar called Crane Alley in Urbana, IL.  I can tell from the rim of my glass that I was drinking a framboise.  We were drunk and goofy…and Ted had hair.

I am tagging the follow lovely ladies to play along:  Stephanie, Cammy, Kyla, and Heidi.

Thursday — Ted and I walked down to our village’s River Fest.  We didn’t do much while were there.  Basically, we rode the ferris wheel, took entirely too many pictures on and off of the ferris wheel, ate a funnel cake, and walked home.  Still, it was a lovely summer night…

It was a little rickety!

Handsome hubby.

Friday: Oh, Friday.  In case you didn’t get the message, Friday sucked in a major way.  Let’s do a brief, bullet-y recap…

• Got my period along with cramps of death.
• Called to schedule some tests, including an HSG, as per Baby-Making Clinic’s instructions.
• Baby-Making Clinic is having trouble finding me an appointment for next week, and plans to call me back.
• Call Baby-Making Clinic back after 3 hours and I’m given 3 appointment options — go on my first day back at school, drive to Indiana, or wait until next month.
• Have minor meltdown on the phone due to these crap non-options.  Baby-Making Clinic will call me back.
• Much nicer nurse calls back and schedules me a reasonable appointment, though it means giving up my tour of the Kraft Kitchens.
• Am too upset to actually write a post, so instead post blubbery photo.
• Get lots of love back from the internets.  I heart the internets.

So, yeah, Friday was lame.  I posted that picture without really thinking about it, and I’m glad I did.  I’ve decided to turn it into a little blog project.  After all, when life gives you lemons…blog about it!  So, for the rest of this cycle, I’m planning on taking a photo of myself each day.  I’ll only post them weekly so I don’t overrun my blog with photos of just me.  I think it will be interesting to see what a full cycle of emotions looks like in photos.

Saturday: It was my 10-year high school reunion!  I went armed with lots of quippy comebacks to the baby question, but thankfully didn’t really have to deal with it.  We had a luncheon at the school, toured the school, and dug up our time capsule.  My wonderful friend, Meghan and I then went to our favorite high school spot to drink Vanilla Mr. Pibbs with a handful of cherries — our drink of choice.  Later, we headed out for drinks with the rest of the girls…

Class of 1999, minus about 60 people, plus one history teacher.

It was so weird to be back in that building!

Digging up the time capsule.

We actually found it!  Geniuses that we were at the time, we didn’t mark the spot or leave a map.  We also thought it would be fine to bury a wooden box wrapped in a plastic bag.  All those Catholic school tuition dollars hard at work.

There is nothing so delicious as a vanilla Mr. Pibb with a handful of cherries.

Meghan concurs.

Meghan and I post senior prom, having taken down our prom hair.

Recreating our post prom photo, but with infinitely better hair.

Sunday: Lazy, rainy day.  Puttering around the house, doing dishes, laundry, grocery shopping.

What were you up to this weekend?

This post is part of 20SB’s Looking Back Blog Carnival, and Ben & Jerry’s is awarding free ice cream to lucky bloggers and readers.  You can find out more about it here, but the idea is to show you a post from when I first began blogging.  I began blogging in graduate school, but that blog is long gone, so this post is from the first month of this particular blog’s incarnation.  When I first started this blog, I wrote a lot about teaching.  I spent a good deal of time reflecting on teaching, and I really viewed my blog as an education blog.  Nowadays, teaching is still part of my blog, but it doesn’t dominate it.  I hope you’ll enjoy this little trip to the early days of my blog!

Consistency vs. Chaos — November 28, 2005

This post is written by my dear friend Heather, who I have know since grade school.  She has a wonderful design site called Tres Hermanas that she runs with her two sisters.  Definitely check her out…and enjoy some very old pictures of me in this guest post!

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Hello! As Erin and I go way back, I thought it might be fun to share a few photos from our childhood. Thanks to a little help from my mom, finding said photos actually happened in under an hour today. (Shocking!) First off is one from our days at FVMS (THE Montessori of all Montessori schools):

Lovely Erin, with her long princess hair, is all the way over to the left in the second row from the back. (Not counting the crazy guy in the plaid shirt that just happened to be our principal.) I’m second from the left (also with long princess hair — it was all the rage) in the second row from the front. I don’t know about Erin, but I’ve just discovered that I can name all but about ten of the people pictured here. Not bad considering the fact that this was taken over twenty years ago! (Holy crap! Are we really that old?!?!)

And now, before the other picture, I’ll tell you my first memory of Erin! I had just moved from Texas back up to the Chicagoland area and thus didn’t have a lot of friends my age. So it was an especially big deal to be starting at a brand new school at the ripe old age of five. My first memory of her is also one of my first memories of the school. I recall walking into the classroom and looking around to see all the kids playing and exploring and learning. Almost immediately, I settled on two girls washing dishes, one of which had long hair just like me. I remember deciding right then and there that I wanted to be friends with that girl (and was quite disappointed to think that she already had a friend in her fellow dishwasher and perhaps didn’t need another one!). Luckily, we clicked as friends right off the bat and have had a wonderful friendship ever since. (One that I appreciate very much!)

Last, but not least, I found some old pictures from our girl scout days, one of which actually has both of us in it! Here it is, for your viewing pleasure:

From left to right: Sharon, Samantha, Jorie, Me (Heather), Katy (my little sister), and Erin!

I’m guessing that we were doing the motions to some kind of song here. Please feel free to laugh at our clothes (thank goodness styles change and we change with them!) and our facial expressions, and then post memories of your own elementary school days!

You all know what Big Wheels are, right?  As a kid, I had a My Little Pony Big Wheel.  It was pretty, pink, and had a basket just big enough for a My Little Pony.  It was wonderful.

Now, one of my favorite things to do with my big wheel was to turn it upside down and make “ice cream” with it.  Making ice cream basically consisted of turning the Big Wheel upside down and using the pedals with my hands to turn the wheel.  Somehow, in my little mind, this was making ice cream.  All the kids in my neighborhood did it!

Please tell me you know what I’m talking about.  My darling husband, who had no actual childhood, never had a Big Wheel and thinks I’m crazy.

So, you want to know about my first kiss?  Well, I’ve got to start out by warning you that my first kiss was about as lame as it gets.  Revealing the story of my first kiss may cause you to experience extreme feelings of pity for me, or you ma realize that I am so lame you can no longer read my blog.*

You have been warned.

I was in the 6th grade.  I’d known him since the 4th grade, developed a crush on him in the 5th grade, and had my heart broken by him on Valentine’s Day when he asked another girl to couples skate with him at the roller skating party.  I wrote him secret love letters.  So young and already so much drama.

By the time 6th grade rolled around, he had gotten over that other girl.  We got to spend time hanging out together as 6th grade patrols.  He eventually asked me to “go out” with him.  Whatever that meant.  We never actually went anywhere.

We lived in the same neighborhood, and one day he got off at my bus stop.  He came over.  Thinking back on it, I’m actually kind of scandalized because my parents weren’t home, and I was having a boy over.  He didn’t stay long, though, so I guess it was okay.

Greg.  That was his name.  He told me he had something for me.  He asked me to close my eyes and hold out my hand.  I wasn’t supposed to open my eyes until he was gone.

I stood there with my eyes closed and my hand outstretched.

Then he kissed me.

On the cheek.

And he left.

I can still remember the way my stomach flipped.  I can still remember how giddy I felt.  Apparently it didn’t take a lot to thrill me.

That was it.  That was my first kiss.

After that we held hands once or twice, and then it was over.  We made out again in high school.

So, there you have it.  You now know the story of sweetly pathetic first kiss.  I hope my daughter’s first kiss is just as lame.

*Actually, it’s kind of a sweet story, so please don’t mock me too much.

I remember the joy of believing in Santa when I was a child.  I remember my dad pointing out Rudolph’s nose lighting up the night sky on Christmas Eve.  I remember being too excited to sleep, yet somehow sleeping anyway.  I remember waking up on Christmas morning with my stocking at the foot of my bed (really a clever move by my parents to keep us kids in bed a little bit longer).  I remember sitting at the top of the stairs with my brother, the anticipation growing, while my dad set up the video camera downstairs.  In our house, Santa didn’t wrap the presents, and there was something truly magical in that moment when I was still on the stairs but could see the pile of gifts from Santa.

I was in fourth grade when I learned the truth about Santa Claus.  I went to a friend’s house after school one day, shortly before Christmas.  I don’t even know how Santa came up, but I remember very clearly her saying to me, “You don’t really still believe in Santa, do you?”  And she laughed.  I laughed too, “Of course I don’t.”  But the truth was, I did still believe.

Did I still believe that a man in a sleigh with magical reindeer flew around the world delivering gifts to all the world’s children in just one night?  Well, not really.  But, I also didn’t believe that Santa was an elaborate ruse thought up by parents.  I still believed in…something…but I wasn’t sure just what it was.

I went home and talked to my dad.  If anyone would know the truth about Santa, it was my dad.  Dad told me that my friend was wrong.  There was such a person as Santa Claus.  No, he didn’t fly around in a magical sleigh on Christmas Eve, but he had been a very real person.  That was the day that I learned about Saint Nicholas.  He was a protector of children and had a reputation for secret gift-giving, thus he became the role model for Santa Claus.

So, yes, at 28 years of age, I still believe in Santa Claus.  I believe in the power of giving to those we love and to those in need.  I believe in the power of one person to make a difference in the lives of many.  I believe in the magic of Christmas, and I cannot wait to share the story of Santa Claus and Saint Nicholas with my own children.

Merry Christmas!

One of my favorite bloggers, Andy, has issued a Get to Know You Challenge.  The challenge is to post this week on something that no one knows about me, a favorite story from my past, or my top ten favorite something.  I have decided to take this challenge to the extreme by writing a post that includes all three.  Let’s get this party started…

It’s no secret that I love cheese.  I love cheese a lot.  But what you might not know is just how this love of cheese got started.  In fact, I’m fairly certain you don’t know where my love of cheese came from.  I don’t even think my husband knows.

When I was in the fourth grade, we read a fabulous book called The Great Cheese Conspiracy.  It was a great little story about three mice and a cheese heist.

After we had finished reading the book, our teacher decided that we would throw a cheese party one day at lunch.  We would get to eat in the classroom that day, and each student would bring in a different type of cheese to sample.

My mom and I headed out to the store to pick out some cheese for me to bring.  My experience with cheese up until this point was singular — Kraft Singles.  So, I chose my cheese based on name alone.  Muenster.  What a great word.

The day of the cheese party arrived, and I showed up with my muenster.  I couldn’t believe my little fourth grade eyes.  It was a veritable smorgasbord of cheese!  I completely forgot about my lunch.  It remained safely tucked inside my New Kids on the Block lunchbox.  Instead I spent my lunch tasting a wonderful variety of delicious cheese.  Thus, the cheese fanatic in me was born.  I owe it all to my fourth grade reading teacher, Mr. Steinheimer.  That and my use of the word discombobulated.

Since that fateful day, I have been a dedicated cheese lover.  I include cheese in almost all of my meals, and I would choose cheese over chocolate any day.  Becoming lactose-intolerant is my worst nightmare.

Without further adieu, I will now leave you with a list of my top ten favorite cheeses (in no particular order):

1. Muenster
2. Parmesan
3. Feta
4. Gorgonzola
5. Goat cheese
6. Gouda
7. Mozzarella
8. Provolone
9. Gruyere
10. Blue cheese

You may have noticed that I don’t have cheddar listed there.  Believe it or not, I’m a cheese girl who isn’t crazy about cheddar.  I do like it, but it doesn’t touch my top ten.

What is your favorite kind of cheese?

All right, dear readers, here it is!  My very first video blog.  I have answered the questions posed by 20-something Bloggers, and even given you an awesome tour of my classroom.  I hope you like it!  (And I hope it works!)

First Vlog for 20sb from Erin on Vimeo.

I know it was a little long…but there’s a lot of stuff in my classroom!