As much as I love living near the beach, I find myself just a tiny bit homesick for New England this week. As we have gone back and forth between the hospital and my inlaws' house I have found myself marvelling at the beauty of the lush greenery, the hilled lanscape and the mountain backdrop that comes with living in a valley. The five years I lived here prior to relocating to the south instilled at least a touch of New Englander in my blood. Summers spent camping in the White Mountains of New Hampshire and the Green Mountains of Vermont have been sorely missed in the flatlands of sountern Virginia.
Friends, too, are missed. Although we have not had the time to socialize this week, just being here has reminded me of the time spent cooking and sharing meals with friends who will always be near and dear to us. Carlos and Judy, you have no idea how much we miss you and all those summer dinners at your house or ours. I miss listening to Judy sing lullabys to my boys in Spanish and sitting by the campfire watching Carlos burn junkmail piece by piece. Somehow our Goddaughter grew up and became a woman and her brother is sure not that same baby who used to spit up on my shirt every time I held him!
Liz and Chris, we miss you too. Despite Chris's decision to cross over to the dark side and become a firefighter, he and my husband could have been brothers! Hailey, who once was small enough to sit in a hat box on my living room floor has become a preteen in a blink of an eye. Driving by St. Patrick's Cathedral today reminded me of how I held Nathan as they poured the holy water on his tiny, infant head.
So much we have missed yet so much we have gained.
Our new home has been so good to us too - it is true what they say about southern hospitality, you know. We have fabulous neighbors in a wonderful neighborhood. If not for the kindness of two of those neighbors we might be retunring home to dead vegetables and a very dirty litter box.
The group of guys and gals my husband works worth, entrusts with his safety and depends upon for backup couldn't be better. And my own work friends- the girls and Geoff(!) that always have my back and offer a shoulder to cry on or a joke to cheer me are awesome. Of course, let me not forget Ms. Sherry who I love dearly or all the terrific women that teach at the boys' school.
All in all we are an extremely lucky family with so many people to love and be loved by.
I always think of that old Girl Scout Camp song, "Make new friends but keep the old. One is silver and the other is gold." when I am feeling nostalgic like this.
How fortunate we have been to have so much silver and gold come our way. How rich we are to have so many fabulous people in our lives.
I used to wish for wealth and fame. As a teenager I wanted to be a famous doctor, revered around the world for my life saving cancer research. In my twenties I wanted to solve crimes and work as a consultant for big name cases all over the country (think OJ Simpson and Jon Benet Ramsey). In my thirties I am a wanna-be writer, a teacher, a mother and a wife with a state pension, a way too small emergency savings account and a house with a dilapidated roof.
I have never felt richer in my life.
Sure I long to see my name on the cover of a bestseller. And , yes, I would like to get paid for it but mostly because I need a new roof and have a student loan to pay off. I have been asked what I would do if I one day did hit it big and find myself on the New York Times top ten list. Would I buy a mansion? Get a fancy car? Go one a shopping spree? Buy an expensive purse? Actually own more than three pairs of shoes (and several $2.00 Old Navy flip flops)?
Honestly? I love my home with the dilapidated roof and we have terrific neighbors, so why leave? Maybe I would get another car- I have always wanted a '67 Ford Mustang Fastback in midnight navy. But I hate shoes, never cared much for purses and prefer a t-shirt and denim skirt to any thing else in the closet.
I would pay off my student loan, take my kids to Disney World and maybe not stay at the budget resort. I would still attend Saturday night bonfires, drink "mommy juice" from a plastic Solo cup and toast marshmallows with my kids.
And if things go really well, I would have a great big party and invite all our old friends and all our new friends together. I would make sure each and every one of you knew just how special and important you are to me and I would thank you for making me the richest woman on the planet.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
An Unexpected Change of Plans
My husband is on vacation this week. We had a great week planned- camping for four days, a trip to the beach, Kung Fu Panda 2 and of course, our ritual Saturday night bonfire with friends and neighbors. Plenty of relaxation for my hardworking husband and plenty of Daddy bonding for the boys.
Last week my mother in law succombed to an infection and was placed in ICU for several days. Due to a host of health issues she has long since struggled with, her kidneys began to fail. On Saturday evening, less than 24 hours before the great camping trip was scheduled to begin, my father in law calls to update us on her progress. It was obvious in his weary voice and tired words that he had reached his limits for stress and exhaustion. Although he assured us she was OK, I knew he wasn't sharing with us the whole truth.
It took us all of five minutes to decide to scrap the vacation plans and head to New England instead. Securing dog sitting with my sister and plant sitting with my neighbors, we packed a few things and set out early Sunday.
In the past few years, my husband's vacation days have been spent travelling the east coast for the ailing and the failing. Whether it be divine intervention or not, he can only laugh now at the timing of such things.
The ten hour drive up the coast is something we have always done in the dark. Since my husband works at night, he does the driving while the kids and I sleep. The time passes quickly and the traffic is minimal. Due to timing, we chose this once to make the drive during waking hours. Imagine two young boys locked in a compact sedan for the better part of twelve hours. Now add to that three traffic jams and a thirty minute backup at the George Washington bridge. Sounds like alot of fun, doesn't it?
Do you know that neither one of them ever complained? There were four "Are we there yets?" and two "I have to go potty's" but not another complaint.
Now take the same two little boys and tell them they have to be quiet and still for at least three hours and sit in a tiny hospital room spending time with their sick grandmother. If you have little boys, you know how challenging this could have proven to be.
My mother in law has a roommate too. Today she told me how wonderful and sweet and well behaved my little darlings were. She said she was amazed at how well they handled spending their nsummer days in a hospital.
I am very proud of my two little men. What a testament to their developing characters that they have spent hour after hour sitting by their grammy's bed just because that's what she wants and needs?
I grew up with illness in my home. Between my brother and my father I spent more time in hospital rooms and ICU's then I care to discuss. That was definitely not the life I wanted for my kids. In fact, after Dad passed last summer I was downright angry that my little babies had to learn the sorrow of loss and the finality of death at such tender ages. To now spend this summer learning hospital etiquette seemed so unfair. To watch them handle it with such finesse has amazed me.
Illness is a part of life. Colds, flus, strep throat- these are things we deal with and move on. No one even really considers them as anything more than a tiny hindrance, bumps in the road for most of us. But as we all know, not all ills are cured with chicken soup and ginger ale. Sometimes IV's, surgeries and twenty four hour nursing care are necessary.
I fully believe that the boys needed to understand that illness is a part of life and sometimes we have to put others' needs before our own desires. I just had no idea how much compassion they had already developed in their young hearts. Never once have they complained of boredom or acted out.
The little one has one request- we must get to the animal farm and petting zoo before we go home.
The older one's only lament? He misses cuddling his grammy. So he forced his way in around all the tubes and hoses and took what he felt was rightfully his!
Last week my mother in law succombed to an infection and was placed in ICU for several days. Due to a host of health issues she has long since struggled with, her kidneys began to fail. On Saturday evening, less than 24 hours before the great camping trip was scheduled to begin, my father in law calls to update us on her progress. It was obvious in his weary voice and tired words that he had reached his limits for stress and exhaustion. Although he assured us she was OK, I knew he wasn't sharing with us the whole truth.
It took us all of five minutes to decide to scrap the vacation plans and head to New England instead. Securing dog sitting with my sister and plant sitting with my neighbors, we packed a few things and set out early Sunday.
In the past few years, my husband's vacation days have been spent travelling the east coast for the ailing and the failing. Whether it be divine intervention or not, he can only laugh now at the timing of such things.
The ten hour drive up the coast is something we have always done in the dark. Since my husband works at night, he does the driving while the kids and I sleep. The time passes quickly and the traffic is minimal. Due to timing, we chose this once to make the drive during waking hours. Imagine two young boys locked in a compact sedan for the better part of twelve hours. Now add to that three traffic jams and a thirty minute backup at the George Washington bridge. Sounds like alot of fun, doesn't it?
Do you know that neither one of them ever complained? There were four "Are we there yets?" and two "I have to go potty's" but not another complaint.
Now take the same two little boys and tell them they have to be quiet and still for at least three hours and sit in a tiny hospital room spending time with their sick grandmother. If you have little boys, you know how challenging this could have proven to be.
My mother in law has a roommate too. Today she told me how wonderful and sweet and well behaved my little darlings were. She said she was amazed at how well they handled spending their nsummer days in a hospital.
I am very proud of my two little men. What a testament to their developing characters that they have spent hour after hour sitting by their grammy's bed just because that's what she wants and needs?
I grew up with illness in my home. Between my brother and my father I spent more time in hospital rooms and ICU's then I care to discuss. That was definitely not the life I wanted for my kids. In fact, after Dad passed last summer I was downright angry that my little babies had to learn the sorrow of loss and the finality of death at such tender ages. To now spend this summer learning hospital etiquette seemed so unfair. To watch them handle it with such finesse has amazed me.
Illness is a part of life. Colds, flus, strep throat- these are things we deal with and move on. No one even really considers them as anything more than a tiny hindrance, bumps in the road for most of us. But as we all know, not all ills are cured with chicken soup and ginger ale. Sometimes IV's, surgeries and twenty four hour nursing care are necessary.
I fully believe that the boys needed to understand that illness is a part of life and sometimes we have to put others' needs before our own desires. I just had no idea how much compassion they had already developed in their young hearts. Never once have they complained of boredom or acted out.
The little one has one request- we must get to the animal farm and petting zoo before we go home.
The older one's only lament? He misses cuddling his grammy. So he forced his way in around all the tubes and hoses and took what he felt was rightfully his!
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Make Your Time Count
So, we are four days into summer vacation and the kids are already at each other's backs constantly. Thanks to the lovely wildfires south of us, some days we have to stay inside most of the day as my little one can not tolerate the smoke in the air. But still, any day that I don't have to work is a good day and even if I had to spend four hours creating an Excel document for some project I worked on all year, I have been at home and with my family while I do it. Next week I start my real summer work, writing curriculum for a new Forensic Science course being offerred. When I became a teacher I swore I would never teach summer school and I still hold to that policy. Writing curriuculum however, can be done from home, pays very well and is particularly exciting to me with this class since I have a long ago earned MS in Forensic Science I would like to use again. Of course, summer also offers me plenty of writing time to freelance (for money), blog (for fun) and write novels (for my pipe dream of being published as a fiction writer one day!)
When I think back to just a year ago on my first week of summer vacation, and how we were all sort of sitting on pins and needles as we watched Dad, one of the greatest men to ever walk this Earth, slowly succumb to his tumor, I can not believe I have lived nearly a year without my father. Four days ago when my mother in law was taken to the emergency room and put into ICU for various medical issues, I had a nauseating sense of de ja' vu as I paced the house waiting for news of improvement. I was fearful that my boys would begin to think that summer vacation means that a grandparent passes on and I had no idea how we would get through that. Fortunately, unlike Dad a year ago, her progress has been in the right direction. I have let go of more than one huge sigh of relief.
Facing the end of someone's life always makes me think back over my own. Last night as I sat at my desk, trying to balance four chat conversations at once (I am sooo not good at that!), I was reminiscing with an old friend about middle school. Good things, bad things, really bad hair and rediculous fashion. Funny what I thought I had forgetten! As I chatted with another old friend about our kids and work and spouses, I marvelled at how different we both are now from high school days and how different yet similar we are to each other. Chat number three was with a friend from the current time period and as we discussed coupons, bargains and Saturday night game night, I found myself wondering how I had gotten to this point and how much happier I am now than I ever was in middle school or high school! My fourth chat was a sporadic conversation with a sister full of teasing and innuendo only a sister would think to toss at me! I find it interesting to say the least that my FB time was represented by four very distinct parts of my life and I am amazed at how well rounded and secure my life has become.
Last night was also the first time in well over a week that my nephew stayed with us. The boys, overjoyed to see their cousin, repeatedly hugged him and played with him throughout the evening. I thought I might even cry when I watched him cross the room to my youngest son with his arms open and gave him a great big hug. It was even more obvious he had missed us in that short period of a week when my husband woke up for work and he followed him around the house as he ate dinner and attended to all his preparations. When he tried to head for the garage to help my husband don his uniform I had to step in as he hasn't quite mastered the steps yet! His obvious love for us - and ours for him- warms my heart. He was born just a couple of months before Dad passed. He shares so many of Dad's playful quirks, mannerisms and expressions that I can't help but think he was sent to us as a reminder that Dad may be gone but his legacy lives on.
I see a little bit of Dad in the rest of the grandkids too- my oldest son has the same sensitive spirit, my youngest shares his love of nature and working with his hands. My niece has that same glimmer of "trouble" in her always smiling eyes and her brother has an acute attention to detail. What an amazing way to leave a little bit of yourself behind when your time comes.
A friend lost someone close to her this week. My heart aches for the sadness she and her family are experiencing as I know full well how crushing the pain of loss can be. My advice to her was to go ahead and cry, get angry, talk about him, do whatever needs doing to get through the mourning. It does no good to keep it inside. A person who is greatly mourned in death must have something special in life. Count yourself lucky when their loss hurts deeply, it only means they have touched your life and heart as deeply.
When I think back to just a year ago on my first week of summer vacation, and how we were all sort of sitting on pins and needles as we watched Dad, one of the greatest men to ever walk this Earth, slowly succumb to his tumor, I can not believe I have lived nearly a year without my father. Four days ago when my mother in law was taken to the emergency room and put into ICU for various medical issues, I had a nauseating sense of de ja' vu as I paced the house waiting for news of improvement. I was fearful that my boys would begin to think that summer vacation means that a grandparent passes on and I had no idea how we would get through that. Fortunately, unlike Dad a year ago, her progress has been in the right direction. I have let go of more than one huge sigh of relief.
Facing the end of someone's life always makes me think back over my own. Last night as I sat at my desk, trying to balance four chat conversations at once (I am sooo not good at that!), I was reminiscing with an old friend about middle school. Good things, bad things, really bad hair and rediculous fashion. Funny what I thought I had forgetten! As I chatted with another old friend about our kids and work and spouses, I marvelled at how different we both are now from high school days and how different yet similar we are to each other. Chat number three was with a friend from the current time period and as we discussed coupons, bargains and Saturday night game night, I found myself wondering how I had gotten to this point and how much happier I am now than I ever was in middle school or high school! My fourth chat was a sporadic conversation with a sister full of teasing and innuendo only a sister would think to toss at me! I find it interesting to say the least that my FB time was represented by four very distinct parts of my life and I am amazed at how well rounded and secure my life has become.
Last night was also the first time in well over a week that my nephew stayed with us. The boys, overjoyed to see their cousin, repeatedly hugged him and played with him throughout the evening. I thought I might even cry when I watched him cross the room to my youngest son with his arms open and gave him a great big hug. It was even more obvious he had missed us in that short period of a week when my husband woke up for work and he followed him around the house as he ate dinner and attended to all his preparations. When he tried to head for the garage to help my husband don his uniform I had to step in as he hasn't quite mastered the steps yet! His obvious love for us - and ours for him- warms my heart. He was born just a couple of months before Dad passed. He shares so many of Dad's playful quirks, mannerisms and expressions that I can't help but think he was sent to us as a reminder that Dad may be gone but his legacy lives on.
I see a little bit of Dad in the rest of the grandkids too- my oldest son has the same sensitive spirit, my youngest shares his love of nature and working with his hands. My niece has that same glimmer of "trouble" in her always smiling eyes and her brother has an acute attention to detail. What an amazing way to leave a little bit of yourself behind when your time comes.
A friend lost someone close to her this week. My heart aches for the sadness she and her family are experiencing as I know full well how crushing the pain of loss can be. My advice to her was to go ahead and cry, get angry, talk about him, do whatever needs doing to get through the mourning. It does no good to keep it inside. A person who is greatly mourned in death must have something special in life. Count yourself lucky when their loss hurts deeply, it only means they have touched your life and heart as deeply.
Monday, June 20, 2011
From Full Throttle to Idle in 48 hours
Today is the first official day of summer vacation. Thanks to the joys of shift work and day rotations, my husband was actually home with us today as well. We took the boys to Walmart and picked up one of those nets you toss a ball at and it bounces back at you as well as a tee for both of them to practice hitting a baseball. Thanks to a good friend of the family, they have discovered a love of the the great American pasttime that I would very much like to foster. Our school district has a habit of turning out exceptional ballplayers to professional teams and if either of my boys has the talent, this is the place for them to find out.
Surprisingly, the weather took a turn today. After a week of 90+ temperatures, we are sitting a chilly 71 with on and off rainshowers.
Of course that has not kept the little ones in the house.
After so many months of running at full throttle, I am having a difficult time finding my brakes. I have been wandering the house and back porch aimlessly, the feeling that there is something more I should be doing nagging at me. I tried sitting on the proch swing and reading but I kept thinking about the cupboard I could empty of the laundry I could fold. I decided maybe a nap was the right thing to do but after ten minutes I couldn't take being still anymore. I don't have lessons to plan, tests to grade or emails to return. I don't technically start my summer work until July 1 and I had to turn my laptop in for the summer anyway. I would like to write in my most recent novel but can't focus my thoughts enough to do so.
My body is exhausted but my mind won't rest.
Yesterday I spent a good chunk of time cleaning off the back porch. We have this amazing outdoor room that, when I first saw it, sold me on our house. Its as big as the average living room and is attached to two deck spaces as well as a pool that the deck wraps around. Its amazing and my most favorite space in our home. The winter and spring storms were not kind to it and it took a good deal of time to get rid of the grime left from rain and wind and snow. Complete with dining area, rocking chair ceiling fans and a porch swing it is the perfect place to relax and slow down. If only my mind would agree.
Many of you know this already so it won't be a huge surprise when I tell you that I am not very good at keeping plants alive. Some might even say I have a real black thumb. The problem is remembering to water- it slips my mind. Unless the plant is staring me in the face all the time. So this year, determined to keep my father's amazing green thumb legacy alive, I purchased a bunch of pots, some soil and several plants. Five tomato plants, two pepper plants, oregano, basil and parsley are now flourishing in my "pot" garden (No- not that kind of pot!) and one tomoato is only a day from being ready to harvest.
Would you believe me when I tell you that my husband has even managed to successfully grow corn in a very large pot? It's amazing to behold!
So I now have a clean, comfortable deck teeming with beautiful vegetables and herbs to watch grow yet I haven't been able to sit still for more than five minutes. Go figure.
I would never lie and tell anyone that I don't love my summer vacation. It is definitely one of the perks to my job. But what I am now learning is that it might actually be a necessary perk. The longer I teach the more I seem to need that little rest between school years. Raising 180 teenagers every years is no small task!
Of course, being home gives me a little taste of what it is like to be a stay at home mother. Today alone has been a challenge- like finding ways to occupy two busy little men and planning three meals a day instead of one or two. It gives me a renewed respect for the SAHM's in my life!
I have plenty of neglected chores to keep me busy this summer for sure. And let's not forget the impending nuptuals of my baby sister later this summer- between the shower and the wedding I will have enough to keep me busy for a bit. There is always the beach, of course, and the hours we will spend at Tae Kwon Do with the older one as well as Saturday night game nights and bon fires. I will write and read and organize but I one thing's for sure, I intend to relax. I may have to learn how to do it but I will find a way!
Surprisingly, the weather took a turn today. After a week of 90+ temperatures, we are sitting a chilly 71 with on and off rainshowers.
Of course that has not kept the little ones in the house.
After so many months of running at full throttle, I am having a difficult time finding my brakes. I have been wandering the house and back porch aimlessly, the feeling that there is something more I should be doing nagging at me. I tried sitting on the proch swing and reading but I kept thinking about the cupboard I could empty of the laundry I could fold. I decided maybe a nap was the right thing to do but after ten minutes I couldn't take being still anymore. I don't have lessons to plan, tests to grade or emails to return. I don't technically start my summer work until July 1 and I had to turn my laptop in for the summer anyway. I would like to write in my most recent novel but can't focus my thoughts enough to do so.
My body is exhausted but my mind won't rest.
Yesterday I spent a good chunk of time cleaning off the back porch. We have this amazing outdoor room that, when I first saw it, sold me on our house. Its as big as the average living room and is attached to two deck spaces as well as a pool that the deck wraps around. Its amazing and my most favorite space in our home. The winter and spring storms were not kind to it and it took a good deal of time to get rid of the grime left from rain and wind and snow. Complete with dining area, rocking chair ceiling fans and a porch swing it is the perfect place to relax and slow down. If only my mind would agree.
Many of you know this already so it won't be a huge surprise when I tell you that I am not very good at keeping plants alive. Some might even say I have a real black thumb. The problem is remembering to water- it slips my mind. Unless the plant is staring me in the face all the time. So this year, determined to keep my father's amazing green thumb legacy alive, I purchased a bunch of pots, some soil and several plants. Five tomato plants, two pepper plants, oregano, basil and parsley are now flourishing in my "pot" garden (No- not that kind of pot!) and one tomoato is only a day from being ready to harvest.
Would you believe me when I tell you that my husband has even managed to successfully grow corn in a very large pot? It's amazing to behold!
So I now have a clean, comfortable deck teeming with beautiful vegetables and herbs to watch grow yet I haven't been able to sit still for more than five minutes. Go figure.
I would never lie and tell anyone that I don't love my summer vacation. It is definitely one of the perks to my job. But what I am now learning is that it might actually be a necessary perk. The longer I teach the more I seem to need that little rest between school years. Raising 180 teenagers every years is no small task!
Of course, being home gives me a little taste of what it is like to be a stay at home mother. Today alone has been a challenge- like finding ways to occupy two busy little men and planning three meals a day instead of one or two. It gives me a renewed respect for the SAHM's in my life!
I have plenty of neglected chores to keep me busy this summer for sure. And let's not forget the impending nuptuals of my baby sister later this summer- between the shower and the wedding I will have enough to keep me busy for a bit. There is always the beach, of course, and the hours we will spend at Tae Kwon Do with the older one as well as Saturday night game nights and bon fires. I will write and read and organize but I one thing's for sure, I intend to relax. I may have to learn how to do it but I will find a way!
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
I'm On a Quest
It was a hot August day in 1991. I had just moved onto campus for my freshman year as a biology/premed major and met my room mate for the first time. Her name was Wanda and she hailed from the Bronx. Her idea of wall art included pictures torn from various issues of Playgirl magazine and she had spent her senior year of high school in a mental health facilitly after setting her boyfriend on fire for cheating on her.
Small town girl meets the big city.
In a very big way.
To say I was frightened of Wanda was not exactly the truth. She didn't really scare me, I just had no idea what to make of her.
She seemed to be mostly normal, she just had a few ...quirks.
Many have said the same of Ted Bundy and he ended up murdering 33 women.
(Hmmm.... I wonder what ever became of Wanda?)
I knew though, within the first few minutes of meeting her that we were not ever going to be friends. Fortunately, Wanda immediately found herself a fraternal organization full of like minded individuals and spent the majority of her time with them. Of course, this left me alone a great deal of time.
One afternoon, my second day of residence in a dorm, I was preparing to go and eat. I have to admit I rather enjoyed dining halls. Not because the food was anything special but because I really enjoyed all the options available to me. A dining hall could be a lonely place though when you dont know anyone and had to sit alone.
Well, as I stood in front of my mirror, fixing my large early 90's curls with a hair pick and a can of Aqua Net, a face appeared in the doorway.
"Can I borrow your hairspray? I just ran out." The blonde with her own big hair shook an empty can of Rave to prove her point.
It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Twenty years later, we live just a few miles from each other and she is like a sister to me. When a recent traumatic event hit her family, I did my best to help her through it. When my dad died, she flew to NY to be there with me . We have held each other's babies in the hospital and collaborated on the trials of marriage and parenting.
Who would have ever imagined that the bonding powers of Aqua Net Hairspray would exceed the bounds of big hair?
During my Girl Scout days we often sang a song: "Make New Friends, But Keep the Old. One is Silver and the Other is Gold."
In recent months I have been realizing that there is alot of silver and gold in my life.
I was never one to make friends easily. Call it a self confidence issue or shyness or what ever you like but I have difficulty putting myself out there. I can't imagine what I have to offer the world and the fear of rejection has always been hardwired in my brain. So to sit back and realize just how many wonderful people there are in my life is somewhat awe inspiring.
As I have walked the path of self discovery, I have tripped and fallen many times. Where in the past I may have spent days or even weeks sprawled out in self pity, loathing myself and/or my life, I have found in recent years that those closest to me won't allow it. Thank you for that.
I entered into a period of depression in my senior year of high school that extended well into my college years. Bulimia that I had experiemented with when I was in my teens became prevalent and I often entertained thoughts of suicide. When I found myself contemplating driving my car into the front of a school bus, I knew it was time to get help. It was that day that I sought counseling from our student assistance center and it was the best thing I ever could have done for myself.
I guess when I think about it, my self exploration and quest for redemption began a long time ago.
My husband is fond of saying that from the moment we are born, we begin to die. It's just the cirlce of life he says. I like to think that there is a little bit more to it than that. Life is more like the quests of ancient warriors. We set out on a path that has yet to be laid in search of knowledge, love and a better understanding of who we are. Along the way we encounter bumps, road blocks and diversions but our goal always remains the same- to become who we were meant to be.
When I look around at all the silver and gold in my life, when I tell my husband to be safe on his way to work and kiss my boys goodnight each evening, I find myself eternally grateful that my quest did not end at the front of a school bus. I am learning to love myself a little bit at a time. I have opened my heart and my mind to the world and I want to be a part of the quest of others.
Life is fleeting. It is a gift that I have learned to cherish rather than despise. It saddens me that I spent so many years wishing my life- I- could be different. I wake up each day now thankful to be alive and grateful for the people who care for me.
Small town girl meets the big city.
In a very big way.
To say I was frightened of Wanda was not exactly the truth. She didn't really scare me, I just had no idea what to make of her.
She seemed to be mostly normal, she just had a few ...quirks.
Many have said the same of Ted Bundy and he ended up murdering 33 women.
(Hmmm.... I wonder what ever became of Wanda?)
I knew though, within the first few minutes of meeting her that we were not ever going to be friends. Fortunately, Wanda immediately found herself a fraternal organization full of like minded individuals and spent the majority of her time with them. Of course, this left me alone a great deal of time.
One afternoon, my second day of residence in a dorm, I was preparing to go and eat. I have to admit I rather enjoyed dining halls. Not because the food was anything special but because I really enjoyed all the options available to me. A dining hall could be a lonely place though when you dont know anyone and had to sit alone.
Well, as I stood in front of my mirror, fixing my large early 90's curls with a hair pick and a can of Aqua Net, a face appeared in the doorway.
"Can I borrow your hairspray? I just ran out." The blonde with her own big hair shook an empty can of Rave to prove her point.
It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Twenty years later, we live just a few miles from each other and she is like a sister to me. When a recent traumatic event hit her family, I did my best to help her through it. When my dad died, she flew to NY to be there with me . We have held each other's babies in the hospital and collaborated on the trials of marriage and parenting.
Who would have ever imagined that the bonding powers of Aqua Net Hairspray would exceed the bounds of big hair?
During my Girl Scout days we often sang a song: "Make New Friends, But Keep the Old. One is Silver and the Other is Gold."
In recent months I have been realizing that there is alot of silver and gold in my life.
I was never one to make friends easily. Call it a self confidence issue or shyness or what ever you like but I have difficulty putting myself out there. I can't imagine what I have to offer the world and the fear of rejection has always been hardwired in my brain. So to sit back and realize just how many wonderful people there are in my life is somewhat awe inspiring.
As I have walked the path of self discovery, I have tripped and fallen many times. Where in the past I may have spent days or even weeks sprawled out in self pity, loathing myself and/or my life, I have found in recent years that those closest to me won't allow it. Thank you for that.
I entered into a period of depression in my senior year of high school that extended well into my college years. Bulimia that I had experiemented with when I was in my teens became prevalent and I often entertained thoughts of suicide. When I found myself contemplating driving my car into the front of a school bus, I knew it was time to get help. It was that day that I sought counseling from our student assistance center and it was the best thing I ever could have done for myself.
I guess when I think about it, my self exploration and quest for redemption began a long time ago.
My husband is fond of saying that from the moment we are born, we begin to die. It's just the cirlce of life he says. I like to think that there is a little bit more to it than that. Life is more like the quests of ancient warriors. We set out on a path that has yet to be laid in search of knowledge, love and a better understanding of who we are. Along the way we encounter bumps, road blocks and diversions but our goal always remains the same- to become who we were meant to be.
When I look around at all the silver and gold in my life, when I tell my husband to be safe on his way to work and kiss my boys goodnight each evening, I find myself eternally grateful that my quest did not end at the front of a school bus. I am learning to love myself a little bit at a time. I have opened my heart and my mind to the world and I want to be a part of the quest of others.
Life is fleeting. It is a gift that I have learned to cherish rather than despise. It saddens me that I spent so many years wishing my life- I- could be different. I wake up each day now thankful to be alive and grateful for the people who care for me.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Teacher of The Year? Not Likely... A Better Person? I Sure Hope So.
This afternoon I ran into a former student from several years ago. I recognized him immediately and much to my surprise (and probably his too!) I actually remembered his name. After ten years of teaching there are very few names that I could ramble off to you from memory. There is Jonathan whom I will never forget- not only did his mother pass away while he was in one of my marine science class but he managed to pass his state final exam for chemistry when every teacher in the building told me that it would never happen. And then there was Julio, from my very first year in the classroom. He was in my homeroom his first freshman year and my integrated science class for his third freshman year. I will definitely always remember Francisco who narrowly escaped a firey death when a rival gang member doused his brother's car in gasoline and Juan who was escorted in protectice custody back to Puerto Rico after a weekend of people trying to gun him down.
Of course, I don't just remember the tragic cases. I will never forget Lauren or Sarah or Jenni just because they were so sweet and the sort of students every teacher would love to have a room full of. I will always remember Ike as I watched him mature from a typical sophomore boy to a young adult about to graduate. And who could ever forget Joey- always ready with a hug and/or a compliment.
Every year, as a faculty, we choose one of our colleagues as teacher of the year. I work in a school with so many deserving faculty that it is often hard to choose. Their personal experiences and dedication to their students is unfailing and each teacher chosen defintely deserves the honor. I am not sure that I will ever be voted in to such an honorable position but I am totally OK with that. I have never been the teacher that all the kids love or all the kids hate- I am somewhere in the happy middle. I don't teach AP kids and I don't have the valedictorian thanking me from the stage on graduation day but I am OK with that too. What I do have are a handful of students that have touched my life and made themselves unforgettable- not by what I was able to do for them but by what they have done for me. I know that over time I have become a better teacher- practice makes better right? But I am far from the most gifted or organized or revered educator in the practice. What I am far prouder of is the better human being I have become becasue of the students that have touched my heart. I have learned patience, developed compassion and tolerance. I see the beauty in each of my students and hold out hope right until the last possible day of class that they will have success- even if that means completing the course and never having to think about chemistry again.
Teaching has made me a better teacher, helped me to be better mother and forced me to be a better person.
I keep a file of memorable moments in a hope chest at home that I intend to one day turn into a scrapbook highlighting my teaching career. There is a smattering of photos, notes from students and newspaper clippings. There is even an official thank you letter for a letter of reference from a young man is one year from graduation at West Point Military Academy. But the things I most remember, the things I hold closest to my heart are not the tangible items in a folder at home. They are the goodbye hugs and the tears on my shoulder and the unexpected Facebook messages and remembering the name of one student from many years ago just because he was a part making me who I am today.
Of course, I don't just remember the tragic cases. I will never forget Lauren or Sarah or Jenni just because they were so sweet and the sort of students every teacher would love to have a room full of. I will always remember Ike as I watched him mature from a typical sophomore boy to a young adult about to graduate. And who could ever forget Joey- always ready with a hug and/or a compliment.
Every year, as a faculty, we choose one of our colleagues as teacher of the year. I work in a school with so many deserving faculty that it is often hard to choose. Their personal experiences and dedication to their students is unfailing and each teacher chosen defintely deserves the honor. I am not sure that I will ever be voted in to such an honorable position but I am totally OK with that. I have never been the teacher that all the kids love or all the kids hate- I am somewhere in the happy middle. I don't teach AP kids and I don't have the valedictorian thanking me from the stage on graduation day but I am OK with that too. What I do have are a handful of students that have touched my life and made themselves unforgettable- not by what I was able to do for them but by what they have done for me. I know that over time I have become a better teacher- practice makes better right? But I am far from the most gifted or organized or revered educator in the practice. What I am far prouder of is the better human being I have become becasue of the students that have touched my heart. I have learned patience, developed compassion and tolerance. I see the beauty in each of my students and hold out hope right until the last possible day of class that they will have success- even if that means completing the course and never having to think about chemistry again.
Teaching has made me a better teacher, helped me to be better mother and forced me to be a better person.
I keep a file of memorable moments in a hope chest at home that I intend to one day turn into a scrapbook highlighting my teaching career. There is a smattering of photos, notes from students and newspaper clippings. There is even an official thank you letter for a letter of reference from a young man is one year from graduation at West Point Military Academy. But the things I most remember, the things I hold closest to my heart are not the tangible items in a folder at home. They are the goodbye hugs and the tears on my shoulder and the unexpected Facebook messages and remembering the name of one student from many years ago just because he was a part making me who I am today.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Boys Will Be Boys
Yesterday we were invited to go swimming at the neighbor's house. Since our own pool is indefinitely out of commission, I welcomed the opportunity to cool off from the intense heat that has been blanketing the south for several days now.
My older son is tall enough to reach the bottom of the above ground pool. He is also enough of a swimmer now that I am not quite as nervous for him as I am for the little one. Until late August of last year he wouldn't even go near the "big" pool, happy to just splash around in his kiddie pool on the deck while we all swam and floated. When I finally conviced him to cross over to the dark side, he would only do so emblazoned with arm floaties and a ring around his waist. Yesterday, in an hours' worth of time he managed to learn the doggie paddle, even shedding all flotational device twice to attempt to swim on his own AND he was jumping off the side of the pool into the water (with floaties) like a pro. Yes, he drank a considerable amount of pool water and yes, he forgot to plug his nose a couple of times but still he finally conquered his fear of the "big" pool. He looked fear straight in the eye and pounced on it.
My baby is growing up.
I have already given up on the older boy- he is hell bent on growing up and I am completely powerless to stop it. But, I was hoping to hold onto the other one for a bit longer.
Lucky for me my little nephew is only a year old, still likes to cuddle and thinks I am the greatest thing since sliced bread. He hasn't learned to talk back yet, has no idea what a "DS" is and still needs me to sing him to sleep when he doesn't feel well. Of course, he will soon grow up too and then I will be left with nothing more than the memories of little boys that used to need me.
Don't get me wrong, I know they all have to grow up and I truely want them too. It's just that after so many years of teaching high school, I wish they could all just skip the teenage years and go straight to adulthood.
A couple of months ago I was leaving work at the end of the day and I witnessed a terrible accident. A young man was riding spread eagle on the hood of his friends car. The friend thought it would be funny to slam on the brakes, completely unaware of the law of physics that states an object in motion will stay in motion. The car stopped moving but the young man on it, did not. He stumbled backward, crashing to the ground and fracturing his skull. Many years of lifeguarding paid off as I jumped into immediate action calling 911 and telling the boy not to get up. It was not until after he was en route to a hospital and I was driving home, did my adrenaline rush crash and I fully realized what had happened. Every time I closed my eyes that night I saw that boy falling from the car. Eventually his face was replaced by that of each of my sons. By morning i had vowed that neither of them would ever drive a car. In fact I was prepared to go online and find them each their own personal bubbles to live in.
Boys will be boys. That's what they say, right?
An excuse for stupidty?
An explanation for underdevelopoed frontal lobes?
A catch all intended to expalin what no mother before me has ever been able to explain?
When I hear the words "Hey, Mom, watch this!" from my little one I cringe in fear and pray that this will not be the day that he explores the laws of physics.
It is no secret that I have always longed for a little girl. When I see the beautiful dresses and pretty little bows and sweet little outfits, a part of my heart cries for never being able to be a part of that world.
But, then I realize I have been tasked with the very important job of raising boys (A job that is not for the faint of heart, believe you me!) and I marvel at the faith God must have in me and my husband not to mess it up!
I will never shop for prom dresses or watch my daughter as she finds the perfect wedding dress. I will never be in the delivery room as my little girl brings her own little girl into the world but I will always have a dandelion ("flower") floating in a cup of water on the kitchen counter and an abundance of rocks, sea shells and sticks around the house. I will watch my boys become young men and cry as they escort their dates to prom. I'll watch as they go off to college or the military and pray that they are protected. I will be there when they kiss their new brides for the very first time and I will cry with joy when I hold my newborn grandchildren.
Boys will always be boys but more importantly, they will one day be men. It is a great privelege to be tasked with the duty of raising a boy. A privelege I will always be grateful for.
My older son is tall enough to reach the bottom of the above ground pool. He is also enough of a swimmer now that I am not quite as nervous for him as I am for the little one. Until late August of last year he wouldn't even go near the "big" pool, happy to just splash around in his kiddie pool on the deck while we all swam and floated. When I finally conviced him to cross over to the dark side, he would only do so emblazoned with arm floaties and a ring around his waist. Yesterday, in an hours' worth of time he managed to learn the doggie paddle, even shedding all flotational device twice to attempt to swim on his own AND he was jumping off the side of the pool into the water (with floaties) like a pro. Yes, he drank a considerable amount of pool water and yes, he forgot to plug his nose a couple of times but still he finally conquered his fear of the "big" pool. He looked fear straight in the eye and pounced on it.
My baby is growing up.
I have already given up on the older boy- he is hell bent on growing up and I am completely powerless to stop it. But, I was hoping to hold onto the other one for a bit longer.
Lucky for me my little nephew is only a year old, still likes to cuddle and thinks I am the greatest thing since sliced bread. He hasn't learned to talk back yet, has no idea what a "DS" is and still needs me to sing him to sleep when he doesn't feel well. Of course, he will soon grow up too and then I will be left with nothing more than the memories of little boys that used to need me.
Don't get me wrong, I know they all have to grow up and I truely want them too. It's just that after so many years of teaching high school, I wish they could all just skip the teenage years and go straight to adulthood.
A couple of months ago I was leaving work at the end of the day and I witnessed a terrible accident. A young man was riding spread eagle on the hood of his friends car. The friend thought it would be funny to slam on the brakes, completely unaware of the law of physics that states an object in motion will stay in motion. The car stopped moving but the young man on it, did not. He stumbled backward, crashing to the ground and fracturing his skull. Many years of lifeguarding paid off as I jumped into immediate action calling 911 and telling the boy not to get up. It was not until after he was en route to a hospital and I was driving home, did my adrenaline rush crash and I fully realized what had happened. Every time I closed my eyes that night I saw that boy falling from the car. Eventually his face was replaced by that of each of my sons. By morning i had vowed that neither of them would ever drive a car. In fact I was prepared to go online and find them each their own personal bubbles to live in.
Boys will be boys. That's what they say, right?
An excuse for stupidty?
An explanation for underdevelopoed frontal lobes?
A catch all intended to expalin what no mother before me has ever been able to explain?
When I hear the words "Hey, Mom, watch this!" from my little one I cringe in fear and pray that this will not be the day that he explores the laws of physics.
It is no secret that I have always longed for a little girl. When I see the beautiful dresses and pretty little bows and sweet little outfits, a part of my heart cries for never being able to be a part of that world.
But, then I realize I have been tasked with the very important job of raising boys (A job that is not for the faint of heart, believe you me!) and I marvel at the faith God must have in me and my husband not to mess it up!
I will never shop for prom dresses or watch my daughter as she finds the perfect wedding dress. I will never be in the delivery room as my little girl brings her own little girl into the world but I will always have a dandelion ("flower") floating in a cup of water on the kitchen counter and an abundance of rocks, sea shells and sticks around the house. I will watch my boys become young men and cry as they escort their dates to prom. I'll watch as they go off to college or the military and pray that they are protected. I will be there when they kiss their new brides for the very first time and I will cry with joy when I hold my newborn grandchildren.
Boys will always be boys but more importantly, they will one day be men. It is a great privelege to be tasked with the duty of raising a boy. A privelege I will always be grateful for.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Change is a Good Thing
I have been sitting here for a good half hour trying to figure out where to start today's post. At least three times I have started only to back space and delete until I am once again staring at a blank screen. There's alot I would like to say but the eloquence has been lost on me today. Change is something that has been on my mind a great deal in recent weeks. I was presented with an opportunity- one of those too good to pass up things- that, if I take it, will change everything in my life professionally aside from the fact that I would still be a teacher. It would mean leaving friends, giving up a classroom I am pretty attached to and stepping away from a group of students that I have grown to love over the years.
Essentially it means change.
I used to embrace change. Having inherited my father's gypsy genetics, I have lived in three states since my college graduation and embarked upon many different career changes before finally settling into the place and job I am now in.
I am not the only one struggling with change.
With barely a week to go, graduation is just about upon us. My seniors have been taking exams and signing yearbooks and essentially tying up loose ends before embarking on the next leg of their journey. There have been alot of tears this week too. Two students broke down and cried on my shoulder yesterday- not ready to say good bye yet but anxious to be on their way. I sense fear and trepidation mixed with excitement and anticipation.
Let me share a story with you.
I had a student this semester who, in no uncertain terms, did not like chemistry. He let me know from day one that he hated my class and, as I soon found out, he wasn't too crazy about me either. Turns out he thought I had an issue with race and accused me of as much in front of the entire class. Those of you who know me are probably as shocked as I was. Using this as a teaching moment, I told him a little bit about the blending in my own family and talked to him about thinking about his words before he voiced them becasue there was no way he could ever know someone's personal life or how his words might hurt. I suggested he might owe me an apology.
It took him ninety minutes of class time to finally approache me and apologize but he did it. That exchange changed our relationship permanently. Today he has asked me to sign his yearbook and has passed me a "high five" for the unexpected success he had in chemistry.
Change, in this case, was a very good thing.
I am not sure if I was born passionate about teaching. What I am passionate about is people. If I can in some way change the life of one student for every year I teach, that is at least 30 people. If they go on to effect change in others' lives, it will become a whole movement of change. Talk about pay it forward!
Our principal has a sign on the wall by her office door that reads "Be the change you want to see in the world." By taking a moment to teach my student about the implications of his words, I may have changed his entire way of thinking. He smiles at me now instead of scowling. He sees me as person who cares about his success, not as some "white teacher" and I hope that he will go on into the world and see people as people and not a skin color.
Change can be daunting- even down right scary. Animals are adaptable. Humans are adaptable.
Change is truely a good thing.
Essentially it means change.
I used to embrace change. Having inherited my father's gypsy genetics, I have lived in three states since my college graduation and embarked upon many different career changes before finally settling into the place and job I am now in.
I am not the only one struggling with change.
With barely a week to go, graduation is just about upon us. My seniors have been taking exams and signing yearbooks and essentially tying up loose ends before embarking on the next leg of their journey. There have been alot of tears this week too. Two students broke down and cried on my shoulder yesterday- not ready to say good bye yet but anxious to be on their way. I sense fear and trepidation mixed with excitement and anticipation.
Let me share a story with you.
I had a student this semester who, in no uncertain terms, did not like chemistry. He let me know from day one that he hated my class and, as I soon found out, he wasn't too crazy about me either. Turns out he thought I had an issue with race and accused me of as much in front of the entire class. Those of you who know me are probably as shocked as I was. Using this as a teaching moment, I told him a little bit about the blending in my own family and talked to him about thinking about his words before he voiced them becasue there was no way he could ever know someone's personal life or how his words might hurt. I suggested he might owe me an apology.
It took him ninety minutes of class time to finally approache me and apologize but he did it. That exchange changed our relationship permanently. Today he has asked me to sign his yearbook and has passed me a "high five" for the unexpected success he had in chemistry.
Change, in this case, was a very good thing.
I am not sure if I was born passionate about teaching. What I am passionate about is people. If I can in some way change the life of one student for every year I teach, that is at least 30 people. If they go on to effect change in others' lives, it will become a whole movement of change. Talk about pay it forward!
Our principal has a sign on the wall by her office door that reads "Be the change you want to see in the world." By taking a moment to teach my student about the implications of his words, I may have changed his entire way of thinking. He smiles at me now instead of scowling. He sees me as person who cares about his success, not as some "white teacher" and I hope that he will go on into the world and see people as people and not a skin color.
Change can be daunting- even down right scary. Animals are adaptable. Humans are adaptable.
Change is truely a good thing.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
It Takes a Village (I'm Back!!)
Technical difficulties have kept me from accessing my blog the past few weeks. So frustrating! As much as I enjoy technology I sometimes feel a real longing for the days of paper and pencil for the pure and simple fact that they don't ever let you down. I am so reliant upon technology in my old age that I can not even conceive of actually writing an article or a story in a notebook any more. It's way too slow!
We in the final stretch of the 2010-2011 school year and I have to admit I am as excited as my students about the 2 1/2 month reprieve we are about to receive. It has been a tough year for me. Losing Dad in July put a dark cloud over the summer that I couldn't really seem to get out from under once school picked up again in September. And then to return to a job I have always loved in part because of my close friend who up and decided to better her life by moving away was a big let down. I have to admit I have missed my "twin" a great deal this year- she always knew just when to pop in and say something funny or slip me a handful of Dove chocolates. Knowing at any moment I might find her dancing down the hall in flip flops we aren't really supposed to wear kept my days lighthearted and fun. To return knowing she was gone when I needed the light she brought to my days was tough.
Lucky for me I have other wonderful friends and we have found ourselves growing even closer this year as one worked her way through this ugly recession and the other fought a valiant battle against breast cancer- AND WON! Yay!!! If not for their support and love I am not sure I would have held it together as well I hope I did this year. Thanks to them I still love teaching, have not given up writeing and was able to avoid committment to the nearest mental hospital. Thanks ladies! I love you!
My tenth year of teaching is just about to come to an end and I find myself wondering how the time passed so quickly. For full retirement I still have twenty years to go. That feels like a really long time to balance being a full time teacher with full time mother and full time wife. Being a working mother has been a challange that, were circumstances in my life different, I may not have taken on. Fortunately my chosen career provides me as much oppotunity as possible to be with my children as I can while still earning a salary. Not all working moms are as lucky as I am.
Last night I attended my youngest son's end of year program at his school. Both of my boys have attended the same private school for preschool. The older boy went all the way through first grade and his little brother at least attend through kindergarten. Anyway, as I sat in the sanctuary of the church while the various classes sang and performed their songs I had to marvel at the peace I felt. Surrounded by parents I had known for years, I watched as my little one- dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, lei and straw hat- sang and did a hula dance with his classmates and teachers. I marveled at how fortunate we have been to have so many people love our children and participate in molding and shaping their minds and spirits as they grow and become "people".
I am a big believer in the "It takes a village" theory of child rearing. I would surely like to think that I am perfect- mother of the year every year- but I am not. There is so much that I don't know and so much others have to offer that I am grateful to have become a part of such an amazing community of teachers and day care providers. They have helped my boys grow into sensitive, kind, caring human beings. Not to mention the awesome education they are recieving. My oldest boy has been reading chapter books since he was in pre-k (thank you Ms. Kelly! You know we love you!!) and took two years of Spanish lessons before he hit second grade. Now he has been accepted into the gifted and talented program. My little one will starte kindergarten with the amazing Ms. Kelly in the fall as well as Spanish lessons with his beloved Pre-School teacher.
I am not a super mom and I will never, ever claim to be. I couldn't do everything some mom's can and I would never be a successful stay at home mother. I so completly admire those that are successful at one of the most important jobs ever. I simply know my limitations. But, when I think about all the people from neighbors, to aunts to teachers and friends that are helping me and my husband raise our children, I am certain that we live in the best "village" anyone could hope for. I love you all.
We in the final stretch of the 2010-2011 school year and I have to admit I am as excited as my students about the 2 1/2 month reprieve we are about to receive. It has been a tough year for me. Losing Dad in July put a dark cloud over the summer that I couldn't really seem to get out from under once school picked up again in September. And then to return to a job I have always loved in part because of my close friend who up and decided to better her life by moving away was a big let down. I have to admit I have missed my "twin" a great deal this year- she always knew just when to pop in and say something funny or slip me a handful of Dove chocolates. Knowing at any moment I might find her dancing down the hall in flip flops we aren't really supposed to wear kept my days lighthearted and fun. To return knowing she was gone when I needed the light she brought to my days was tough.
Lucky for me I have other wonderful friends and we have found ourselves growing even closer this year as one worked her way through this ugly recession and the other fought a valiant battle against breast cancer- AND WON! Yay!!! If not for their support and love I am not sure I would have held it together as well I hope I did this year. Thanks to them I still love teaching, have not given up writeing and was able to avoid committment to the nearest mental hospital. Thanks ladies! I love you!
My tenth year of teaching is just about to come to an end and I find myself wondering how the time passed so quickly. For full retirement I still have twenty years to go. That feels like a really long time to balance being a full time teacher with full time mother and full time wife. Being a working mother has been a challange that, were circumstances in my life different, I may not have taken on. Fortunately my chosen career provides me as much oppotunity as possible to be with my children as I can while still earning a salary. Not all working moms are as lucky as I am.
Last night I attended my youngest son's end of year program at his school. Both of my boys have attended the same private school for preschool. The older boy went all the way through first grade and his little brother at least attend through kindergarten. Anyway, as I sat in the sanctuary of the church while the various classes sang and performed their songs I had to marvel at the peace I felt. Surrounded by parents I had known for years, I watched as my little one- dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, lei and straw hat- sang and did a hula dance with his classmates and teachers. I marveled at how fortunate we have been to have so many people love our children and participate in molding and shaping their minds and spirits as they grow and become "people".
I am a big believer in the "It takes a village" theory of child rearing. I would surely like to think that I am perfect- mother of the year every year- but I am not. There is so much that I don't know and so much others have to offer that I am grateful to have become a part of such an amazing community of teachers and day care providers. They have helped my boys grow into sensitive, kind, caring human beings. Not to mention the awesome education they are recieving. My oldest boy has been reading chapter books since he was in pre-k (thank you Ms. Kelly! You know we love you!!) and took two years of Spanish lessons before he hit second grade. Now he has been accepted into the gifted and talented program. My little one will starte kindergarten with the amazing Ms. Kelly in the fall as well as Spanish lessons with his beloved Pre-School teacher.
I am not a super mom and I will never, ever claim to be. I couldn't do everything some mom's can and I would never be a successful stay at home mother. I so completly admire those that are successful at one of the most important jobs ever. I simply know my limitations. But, when I think about all the people from neighbors, to aunts to teachers and friends that are helping me and my husband raise our children, I am certain that we live in the best "village" anyone could hope for. I love you all.
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