Monday, December 26, 2011
Goodnight, Honey
Even as she's upstairs snuggled in bed, my face remembers the feel of my Catie's cheeks brushing mine. My lips know the sweet smoothness of her giggling belly as I lace it with raspberry kisses. My palms have memorized the outline of her pajama covered tushie. Hours later I can still feel the silky brush of chubby arms as they wrap around my neck for goodnight squeezes. These things are with me always. These things I know by heart.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
My Jaden
My sweet girl is now a 5-year-old. I love her so much! She's spunky, animated, courageous, and smart. She lights up my very existence. Thank you, Universe for choosing me to be her Mommy.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Memorials
I've been out driving a lot today, and for some reason I happened to pass a lot of crosses on the road. You know the kind, with the flowers and sometimes balloons or candles...memorials for people who were in fatal car accidents.
I have mixed feelings about these memorials. I don't like to look at them. They make me feel sad, and a little creeped out. If my child or sister or parent died in an accident, I would want to honor and remember them in some other way. And yet...I also like the memorials. Because when I see one, I know that it means someone whose heart is aching for a loved one felt just a tiny bit better placing flowers there. For that person, it gave them comfort.
Today I am thankful that I don't need the comfort of a memorial.
I have mixed feelings about these memorials. I don't like to look at them. They make me feel sad, and a little creeped out. If my child or sister or parent died in an accident, I would want to honor and remember them in some other way. And yet...I also like the memorials. Because when I see one, I know that it means someone whose heart is aching for a loved one felt just a tiny bit better placing flowers there. For that person, it gave them comfort.
Today I am thankful that I don't need the comfort of a memorial.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Friday
Today, I'm just thankful for Friday. Because just when you're too tired for students, homework, cleaning, and cooking, and when you think you just can't go on, Friday comes around again. Now here I am, getting ready for wine night with work friends, but before I go I'm going to go hug my girls until they belly laugh!
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Breakfast for Everyone
How many of us have ever been truly hungry? I mean, the kind of hungry where you haven't eaten since yesterday and will probably only eat Top Ramen tonight. The kind of hungry where your stomach burns, and your legs are shaking, and you feel weak and just lay around. The kind of hungry where you will eat anything for breakfast...grapefruit on neighborhood trees, a can of green beans from the back of the cabinet, leftover dill pickle juice.
When people think of hunger, they usually picture children with wasting bodies from Ethiopia. However, with our nation's increasing divide between the haves and the have-nots, there are many hungry children right in your own back yard. For all that we think it doesn't happen, millions of children in our own country go to bed with empty tummies every day.
My new student Joey comes from a troubled family. He's one of 13 other kids, and I guess mom is on her own and isn't doing well. Forget that Joey comes to school every day in the same size 14 shorts, held onto his grubby 6-year-old body with an old shoelace. Forget that Joey has fluff stuck in his curly hair that has been there for 3 days. The thing you should see when you look at Joey are the dark shadows under his eyes, and the tightness of the skin across his cheeks. You should notice that his eyelids droop, and his smiles are slow to come. You should notice him watching me eat my breakfast yogurt.
On his third day in my class, with unshed tears in his eyes, Joey came to me and told me his tummy hurt. "What did you eat today?" I asked. "I didn't eat nothing," he whispered. When I asked him if he just forgot, he said that there wasn't enough cereal for him. I told him he could come eat at school in the mornings, and he said, "I don't have no dollars for that." I gave him one of Jaden's juice boxes and the banana from my lunch. I came to find out that Joey never ate breakfast, and had meager dinners. Joey ate my lunch banana every day that week while we waited for his free lunch form to be processed.
I don't know what's up with his family, but when Joey started getting daily breakfast and lunch, the shadows around his eyes began to fade. His smiles began to come quicker. He began to lift his head up during teaching. Judge his mom however you like...I certainly do. But don't begrudge Joey, who is just a little 6-year-old boy whose tummy no longer aches with hunger. Everyone...everyone... deserves to eat.
Today I am thankful for the Federal Free Lunch Program.
When people think of hunger, they usually picture children with wasting bodies from Ethiopia. However, with our nation's increasing divide between the haves and the have-nots, there are many hungry children right in your own back yard. For all that we think it doesn't happen, millions of children in our own country go to bed with empty tummies every day.
My new student Joey comes from a troubled family. He's one of 13 other kids, and I guess mom is on her own and isn't doing well. Forget that Joey comes to school every day in the same size 14 shorts, held onto his grubby 6-year-old body with an old shoelace. Forget that Joey has fluff stuck in his curly hair that has been there for 3 days. The thing you should see when you look at Joey are the dark shadows under his eyes, and the tightness of the skin across his cheeks. You should notice that his eyelids droop, and his smiles are slow to come. You should notice him watching me eat my breakfast yogurt.
On his third day in my class, with unshed tears in his eyes, Joey came to me and told me his tummy hurt. "What did you eat today?" I asked. "I didn't eat nothing," he whispered. When I asked him if he just forgot, he said that there wasn't enough cereal for him. I told him he could come eat at school in the mornings, and he said, "I don't have no dollars for that." I gave him one of Jaden's juice boxes and the banana from my lunch. I came to find out that Joey never ate breakfast, and had meager dinners. Joey ate my lunch banana every day that week while we waited for his free lunch form to be processed.
I don't know what's up with his family, but when Joey started getting daily breakfast and lunch, the shadows around his eyes began to fade. His smiles began to come quicker. He began to lift his head up during teaching. Judge his mom however you like...I certainly do. But don't begrudge Joey, who is just a little 6-year-old boy whose tummy no longer aches with hunger. Everyone...everyone... deserves to eat.
Today I am thankful for the Federal Free Lunch Program.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Being Busy
Sometimes I feel so overworked. Long ago, when Kharli and Christian were as little as Jaden and Caitlyn, I was just starting college and it was rough on us. Now, here I am working through my master's program and I'm right back there all over again. Except now, my job is so mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausting. I never want to look back and say that my children didn't get the best of me. So I try really hard to give them time and attention each day, and that makes me busier than ever.
I could look at it as my life being super-challenging right now, or I could look at it as a blessing. I'm blessed to have these little girls to dress and play with and read with and cuddle. I'm blessed to have a new home to unpack and paint and arrange. I'm blessed to have a job that I love so much that, even when it's kicking my ass, I take a deep breath and start another day. I'm blessed to be able to seek an education, and that my government will aid me in getting it. I'm blessed to have a husband who will hug me when it's tough and be someone I can lean on.
Being too busy for facebook and blogging and phone chit-chats isn't going to get me down. Today, I'm grateful for being busy.
I could look at it as my life being super-challenging right now, or I could look at it as a blessing. I'm blessed to have these little girls to dress and play with and read with and cuddle. I'm blessed to have a new home to unpack and paint and arrange. I'm blessed to have a job that I love so much that, even when it's kicking my ass, I take a deep breath and start another day. I'm blessed to be able to seek an education, and that my government will aid me in getting it. I'm blessed to have a husband who will hug me when it's tough and be someone I can lean on.
Being too busy for facebook and blogging and phone chit-chats isn't going to get me down. Today, I'm grateful for being busy.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
November
November is my favorite month. The weather is crisp and clean. I can get out my light sweaters and start thinking about scarves. Depending on which trees grow near you, you can watch Autumn change her scarves as well. The world smells like cinnamon apple cider. It's time to start thinking about food, family, friends, and all that we are grateful to have. Today I'm thankful for November.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Uniform Shoe on the Other Foot
Tomorrow is the first day of school, and as usual I'm wrapped up in knots. I always get a little anxious the night before the first day, even after all these years.
Last year I was on edge thinking about my grade level switch to first grade. I wasn't sure what to expect, so I planned that first morning precisely. When the morning bell sounded, I opened the door to all those smiling faces and welcomed them in.
I was not, however, very welcoming to their parents. I was friendly, and I greeted them warmly, and then I promptly had their children wave good-bye and I closed the door in their worried, hesitating faces. Truly, I thought I was doing them a favor. Plus, I had all those little squirts to deal with, and that was my job. Not coddling moms.
Well, shoe's on the other foot now, isn't it? I sit here tonight anxiously, not because I'm facing school tomorrow. That's cake. I sit here unable to sleep because tomorrow is Jaden's first day of Kindergarten. She's ready. I know she is. She'll be great.
Except I'm kind of nervous about her getting on the daycare van okay. Even with help, she's never made her way from point A to point B without Craig or I to hold her hand.
Also, she still needs help sometimes in the bathroom. What if she gets in there and can't get her uniform skirt back on right? Are the little 5 year old boys going to see her Hello Kitty panties and laugh at her?
And what about getting through the cafeteria lunch line? She's never had to balance a tray of anything in her hands, much less loose food! Hell, the girl can barely walk across the room without tripping over her two left feet.
And speaking of lunchtime, I have to give her a dollar for lunch tomorrow, and where exactly am I supposed to put that? Is she going to remember what it's for? Her experience with money is limited to Chuck E. Cheese tokens and random quarters she finds in the laundry room. Has she ever even seen a dollar bill? I forget, and I can't exactly wake her up and ask her now.
Her kindergarten teacher is a friend of ours, I trust her very much, and truly I don't feel compelled in the slightest to bug Ms. Jeffrey with my mommy worries and eek out some reassurance.
Yet, as I consider tomorrow morning, I realize that I kind of wish I could peek in the classroom door at 8:00, and watch Jaden's face as she finds her seat. I'd like to be able to smile reassuringly to her, and make sure she feels secure before backing out of the doorway. I'd like to take a picture of her in her seat on her first day of school. I'd like to be the mom for a few minutes before going back to being the teacher.
Oh, my gosh. Did I get it wrong last year? Should I have been more welcoming to parents, and let them hover for a few minutes? Just in case...I'm changing my game plan tomorrow morning. My motto has always been to treat children the way my own children deserve to be treated. Maybe I should expand that to include their mothers too.
Last year I was on edge thinking about my grade level switch to first grade. I wasn't sure what to expect, so I planned that first morning precisely. When the morning bell sounded, I opened the door to all those smiling faces and welcomed them in.
I was not, however, very welcoming to their parents. I was friendly, and I greeted them warmly, and then I promptly had their children wave good-bye and I closed the door in their worried, hesitating faces. Truly, I thought I was doing them a favor. Plus, I had all those little squirts to deal with, and that was my job. Not coddling moms.
Well, shoe's on the other foot now, isn't it? I sit here tonight anxiously, not because I'm facing school tomorrow. That's cake. I sit here unable to sleep because tomorrow is Jaden's first day of Kindergarten. She's ready. I know she is. She'll be great.
Except I'm kind of nervous about her getting on the daycare van okay. Even with help, she's never made her way from point A to point B without Craig or I to hold her hand.
Also, she still needs help sometimes in the bathroom. What if she gets in there and can't get her uniform skirt back on right? Are the little 5 year old boys going to see her Hello Kitty panties and laugh at her?
And what about getting through the cafeteria lunch line? She's never had to balance a tray of anything in her hands, much less loose food! Hell, the girl can barely walk across the room without tripping over her two left feet.
And speaking of lunchtime, I have to give her a dollar for lunch tomorrow, and where exactly am I supposed to put that? Is she going to remember what it's for? Her experience with money is limited to Chuck E. Cheese tokens and random quarters she finds in the laundry room. Has she ever even seen a dollar bill? I forget, and I can't exactly wake her up and ask her now.
Her kindergarten teacher is a friend of ours, I trust her very much, and truly I don't feel compelled in the slightest to bug Ms. Jeffrey with my mommy worries and eek out some reassurance.
Yet, as I consider tomorrow morning, I realize that I kind of wish I could peek in the classroom door at 8:00, and watch Jaden's face as she finds her seat. I'd like to be able to smile reassuringly to her, and make sure she feels secure before backing out of the doorway. I'd like to take a picture of her in her seat on her first day of school. I'd like to be the mom for a few minutes before going back to being the teacher.
Oh, my gosh. Did I get it wrong last year? Should I have been more welcoming to parents, and let them hover for a few minutes? Just in case...I'm changing my game plan tomorrow morning. My motto has always been to treat children the way my own children deserve to be treated. Maybe I should expand that to include their mothers too.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Bread and a Little Jam
I've never told this story to anyone before.
When I was eight, my family lived in the very, very small town of Silver Lake, Oregon. The town of Silver Lake boasted a one-pump gas station, a schoolhouse of four rooms, and just one main paved road right through the center, out of which branched a dozen or so winding dirt roads. There was no supermarket, so going grocery shopping meant an hour drive to the city.
We did have a little corner store that sold a limited variety of staples such as milk, nails, and pastel candy buttons, and it was to here that I sometimes rode my bicycle to pick things up for my mother. I don't think my mom knew how much I hated this errand. Hated it, because I was this timid, shy little kid who hesitated to make eye contact with anyone, including the nice elderly man behind the cash register.
On this particular day, she sent me to buy a loaf of bread. I carefully pocketed the dollar bill she handed me, and set off on my bike. When I got to the store, I parked my bike and winced slightly as the front door tinkled my arrival. I headed to the bakery rack and gently squeezed a loaf of Wonder bread as my mom had taught me. Deeming it fresh enough, I carried it up to the counter where I gazed longingly at the candy buttons behind the glass. Still thinking about candy, I walked out to my bike and headed home.
It wasn't until 10 minutes later, when my bicycle wheels were wobbling up our gravel pathway that I realized I still had that dollar in my pocket! My feet actually froze on the pedals as the horror of what I had done hit me, knocking me over with my bike on top.
Now, let me just pause in the telling for a moment and consider what any other kid would have done in this situation. Would she have biked back to the store and sheepishly handed over the dollar? Maybe, if she was brave. Would she have gone inside and admitted her mistake to her mother? Maybe, if she was honest. Would she have just hid the dollar and taken the bread inside anyway? Maybe, if she was smart.
Me? On this day I was none of those things. I was a panicked little girl whose brain scrambled to come up with the perfect cover-up...one which did NOT involve going back to the store and facing the nice man who had just watched me brazenly walk out his door with my loaf of pilfered Wonder bread.
I decided to get rid of the evidence, and I tossed that loaf of bread into the bushes at the end of our driveway. What was I thinking? Did I think it was going to just magically disappear? Possibly. Panic-stricken eight-year-olds are clearly not the best problem solvers.
So, I went into my house and gave my mom back the dollar, telling her that the store was out of bread. She accepted that with a shrug and began to make soup for lunch instead of peanut butter sandwiches. It was so easy. And I didn't get in trouble. Feeling satisfied with myself, I buried my shoplifting guilt in the back of my mind and went off to play.
It was a short-lived relief, though. That loaf of bread...that stupid loaf of tell-tale bread! Wouldn't you know it? The very next day my mom came rushing through our front door holding up a loaf of Wonder bread! Wow, she exclaimed! Here we were...all out of bread with none in the store, and what do you know? Somebody accidentally dropped a loaf of bread right in front of our house! Was that providence, or what??
We ate our peanut butter sandwiches that day, mine sticking in my throat more than usual. Smiling at me, my mom gave me an unexpected second sandwich just because. And although I had no appetite for it, by God...I ate every bite.
My mom never said anything to me about the bread. I never knew if she really knew the truth or not, and the wondering about that was enough punishment in itself. Coincidentally, my days of shopping went on hiatus for a time. My mom began sending my plucky little sister Jacque, who wasn't scared of anybody or anything...and whatever scrapes she got into, she always brought home the bread.
When I was eight, my family lived in the very, very small town of Silver Lake, Oregon. The town of Silver Lake boasted a one-pump gas station, a schoolhouse of four rooms, and just one main paved road right through the center, out of which branched a dozen or so winding dirt roads. There was no supermarket, so going grocery shopping meant an hour drive to the city.
We did have a little corner store that sold a limited variety of staples such as milk, nails, and pastel candy buttons, and it was to here that I sometimes rode my bicycle to pick things up for my mother. I don't think my mom knew how much I hated this errand. Hated it, because I was this timid, shy little kid who hesitated to make eye contact with anyone, including the nice elderly man behind the cash register.
On this particular day, she sent me to buy a loaf of bread. I carefully pocketed the dollar bill she handed me, and set off on my bike. When I got to the store, I parked my bike and winced slightly as the front door tinkled my arrival. I headed to the bakery rack and gently squeezed a loaf of Wonder bread as my mom had taught me. Deeming it fresh enough, I carried it up to the counter where I gazed longingly at the candy buttons behind the glass. Still thinking about candy, I walked out to my bike and headed home.
It wasn't until 10 minutes later, when my bicycle wheels were wobbling up our gravel pathway that I realized I still had that dollar in my pocket! My feet actually froze on the pedals as the horror of what I had done hit me, knocking me over with my bike on top.
Now, let me just pause in the telling for a moment and consider what any other kid would have done in this situation. Would she have biked back to the store and sheepishly handed over the dollar? Maybe, if she was brave. Would she have gone inside and admitted her mistake to her mother? Maybe, if she was honest. Would she have just hid the dollar and taken the bread inside anyway? Maybe, if she was smart.
Me? On this day I was none of those things. I was a panicked little girl whose brain scrambled to come up with the perfect cover-up...one which did NOT involve going back to the store and facing the nice man who had just watched me brazenly walk out his door with my loaf of pilfered Wonder bread.
I decided to get rid of the evidence, and I tossed that loaf of bread into the bushes at the end of our driveway. What was I thinking? Did I think it was going to just magically disappear? Possibly. Panic-stricken eight-year-olds are clearly not the best problem solvers.
So, I went into my house and gave my mom back the dollar, telling her that the store was out of bread. She accepted that with a shrug and began to make soup for lunch instead of peanut butter sandwiches. It was so easy. And I didn't get in trouble. Feeling satisfied with myself, I buried my shoplifting guilt in the back of my mind and went off to play.
It was a short-lived relief, though. That loaf of bread...that stupid loaf of tell-tale bread! Wouldn't you know it? The very next day my mom came rushing through our front door holding up a loaf of Wonder bread! Wow, she exclaimed! Here we were...all out of bread with none in the store, and what do you know? Somebody accidentally dropped a loaf of bread right in front of our house! Was that providence, or what??
We ate our peanut butter sandwiches that day, mine sticking in my throat more than usual. Smiling at me, my mom gave me an unexpected second sandwich just because. And although I had no appetite for it, by God...I ate every bite.
My mom never said anything to me about the bread. I never knew if she really knew the truth or not, and the wondering about that was enough punishment in itself. Coincidentally, my days of shopping went on hiatus for a time. My mom began sending my plucky little sister Jacque, who wasn't scared of anybody or anything...and whatever scrapes she got into, she always brought home the bread.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Memoirs
Seeing as how all the things presently going on in my life I've deemed either too personal or too boring to write about, I was thinking I'll spend some time writing about my past. It wasn't always pretty, or interesting, but I've loved my life.
"...to understand that a little girl with more courage than she knew, would find her prayers were answered, can that not be called happiness? After all these are not the memoirs of an empress, nor of a queen. These are memoirs of another kind."
Friday, May 6, 2011
Artistic Expression
Abstract cave art believed to be from the Jadeolithic era. Pigment sampling has revealed that early humans enjoyed soap crayon as a popular medium.
Here we have a family scene suggesting a typical hunter-male pulling around a gatherer-female by the hair...
Here we have a family scene suggesting a typical hunter-male pulling around a gatherer-female by the hair...
Although similar paintings can be found in nearby caves, these unfortunately did not survive the erosion inherent to their region.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Thirty-Ten is the New Forty
So. It's not so bad. Really.
For all my self-deprecation this past week, I actually feel good. I feel like me, same as always. "Age is just a number." That's what they say, right? Besides, Kharli tells me I'm officially a cougar now!
I'm not sorry about entering a new decade of numbers. Numbers are important. Numbers represent more than what they are. When we add together all our hours, our days, our years living on this planet...well, why would anyone want to deny those?
Why would I really want to turn back the clock and deny all those days of being me? Why would I be sad and wish to have those days back? If anything, growing a day older only makes me sad in that it means I have one less day to stick around here.
Being older isn't such a bad thing to be. Yes, I have to be more careful about what I eat. And I have to wear sunblock on my toes. I have to take different vitamins than before. I suppose I have to worry about a whole lot of things I never did before.
But to me, being older just means that I've lived. Good or bad, I've lived. That's an amazing feeling. And I can't wait to see how the next forty years play out.
Happy birthday to me. :)
For all my self-deprecation this past week, I actually feel good. I feel like me, same as always. "Age is just a number." That's what they say, right? Besides, Kharli tells me I'm officially a cougar now!
I'm not sorry about entering a new decade of numbers. Numbers are important. Numbers represent more than what they are. When we add together all our hours, our days, our years living on this planet...well, why would anyone want to deny those?
Why would I really want to turn back the clock and deny all those days of being me? Why would I be sad and wish to have those days back? If anything, growing a day older only makes me sad in that it means I have one less day to stick around here.
Being older isn't such a bad thing to be. Yes, I have to be more careful about what I eat. And I have to wear sunblock on my toes. I have to take different vitamins than before. I suppose I have to worry about a whole lot of things I never did before.
But to me, being older just means that I've lived. Good or bad, I've lived. That's an amazing feeling. And I can't wait to see how the next forty years play out.
Happy birthday to me. :)
Monday, March 28, 2011
Caitlyn's Birthday
This year we celebrated with family at our local park again. It was a beautiful day for a party! Here are some of my favorite photos...
Thank you to all our family for helping make Catie's birthday special! She had a wonderful time, and now it looks like the toy store blew up in our house. She even shares her gifts...sometimes. :)
My little kids
and big kids.
Pretty cousins. Told them this wasn't going on FB.
More cousins :)
Jaden feeling jealous of the birthday girl getting so much attention.
I perked her up by taking pictures.
Where did she learn to pose like that?
My girls think they can play soccer...hahaha. Someday, girls.
She really didn't enjoy when we sang Happy Birthday.
Right after I took this, she lunged for me and did the kangaroo thing until we were finished.
CAKE! Caitlyn had been talking about "her cake" for 3 days straight.
I didn't know she made this face until just now...hahaha...I thought we were taking a sweet picture :)
Just doing a little shopping in the park.
Jaden, thinking about which toys to try to swipe later...
My birthday girl
Thank you to all our family for helping make Catie's birthday special! She had a wonderful time, and now it looks like the toy store blew up in our house. She even shares her gifts...sometimes. :)
Friday, March 25, 2011
Happy Birthday, My Catie
She's 3-years-old today. THREE. My god, I can't believe she's 3 already. The years have gone by so fast...too fast.
I wouldn't use the word "favorite" exactly, because that's not fair to my other kids, or even true. But she has been such a joy to me since the day she was born. Maybe because she was the baby, and I knew she was my last, maybe I was wise enough to treasure her for the unexpected gift that she was. That she is.
It's so amazing to watch her grow. Right now her little 3-year-old self is just a glimpse of some unique person I can only imagine. And although I can't wait to see who that person will eventually be, I wish I could slow these years down just a little.
5 Years In
When Craig and I married, we just jumped in. We knew we were creating a blended family, and that it would be great at times and challenging at times. We knew that living with each other's quirks would be both pleasant and crazy, life-sucking reality. But, I love him. For some reason, he loves me. So we jumped in.
Most times, I think he's the only one who really gets me. Other times...I think the poor guy hasn't got a clue who I am inside. Still...he's the only one I really let see who that person is, whether he understands her or not. It took me a decade to grow into a woman who could be that vulnerable, but he never lets me down. I trust him with those pieces of me.
Five years later, here we are. Five years of teenagers, babies, laundry, bills, carpooling, and a few hundred spaghetti dinners...here we STILL are. And it's great :)
Happy Anniversary, Craig!
Most times, I think he's the only one who really gets me. Other times...I think the poor guy hasn't got a clue who I am inside. Still...he's the only one I really let see who that person is, whether he understands her or not. It took me a decade to grow into a woman who could be that vulnerable, but he never lets me down. I trust him with those pieces of me.
Five years later, here we are. Five years of teenagers, babies, laundry, bills, carpooling, and a few hundred spaghetti dinners...here we STILL are. And it's great :)
Happy Anniversary, Craig!
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
I Knew This Day Would Come
It's finally happened. Craig and I realized it today when we overheard the girls talking to each other. I'm not sure when it began, but Jaden's been calling her sister "Caitlyn." A lot. I also realized that, more often than not, Catie calls herself "Cait-yin."
Really, if you know me at all you won't be surprised to read that this makes me sad. It kind of breaks my heart. Jaden, and then the rest of us, have been calling her Honey for so long. Ever since she was a baby she's been our Honey.
I didn't realize until now how much this has really stuck with me...how much it's been a part of my interactions with my kids. And I didn't realize how it would feel to let that go. It's so hard to let go of all those little things that keep them babies, even when you know you must.
In one of their favorite books, Bear Snores On, the animal friends talk about making "honey-cakes" and "honey-nuts" for their little woodsy picnics. Caitlyn still eagerly anticipates these parts of the story, interjecting an incredulous "ME??" each time there is ever mention of "honey" anything.
She still listens to the Mama Mia soundtrack over and over just to sing along to her song "Honey, Honey," although that's also being phased out by her new favorite Disney princess songs.
And just last night I accidentally said, "Jaden, honey, what's wrong?" You should have seen Catie glare at me as Jaden exclaimed, "I'm NOT Honey, I'm Jaden."
So I don't think that Caitlyn has completely given up her baby nickname yet. But it's closer than I realized. Soon this era will end. Soon I'll have to let this go.
Still... even if I don't ever say it out loud, I'll be thinking it. She will always be my Honey.
Really, if you know me at all you won't be surprised to read that this makes me sad. It kind of breaks my heart. Jaden, and then the rest of us, have been calling her Honey for so long. Ever since she was a baby she's been our Honey.
I didn't realize until now how much this has really stuck with me...how much it's been a part of my interactions with my kids. And I didn't realize how it would feel to let that go. It's so hard to let go of all those little things that keep them babies, even when you know you must.
In one of their favorite books, Bear Snores On, the animal friends talk about making "honey-cakes" and "honey-nuts" for their little woodsy picnics. Caitlyn still eagerly anticipates these parts of the story, interjecting an incredulous "ME??" each time there is ever mention of "honey" anything.
She still listens to the Mama Mia soundtrack over and over just to sing along to her song "Honey, Honey," although that's also being phased out by her new favorite Disney princess songs.
And just last night I accidentally said, "Jaden, honey, what's wrong?" You should have seen Catie glare at me as Jaden exclaimed, "I'm NOT Honey, I'm Jaden."
So I don't think that Caitlyn has completely given up her baby nickname yet. But it's closer than I realized. Soon this era will end. Soon I'll have to let this go.
Still... even if I don't ever say it out loud, I'll be thinking it. She will always be my Honey.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
A Roomful of Parents
It's that time again. Parent-teacher conferences.
Here they come walking through my doorway, a couple dozen moms and dads...nervous about this new type of conference in which we all meet together as a team. Such hopeful expressions, such vulnerability. It's time to face the teacher, and I can tell that although they don't quite know what to expect, they want so much to do the right thing for their kids. It's hard to be a parent during conference week.
I put them at ease. I tell them how wonderful their children are, and how lucky I feel to have them this year. I smile a lot, and my smiles are genuine.
I love talking to families about their kids, especially when we come together during conferences. Because at this moment, in this place, every child I teach is the most important person to their parents. The most special...loved beyond reason or explanation. No matter what non-sugar coated information I might need to relate about these kids, I never ever forget that each one of them is some mother's little Catie.
As I walk around and talk, I feel the weight of my responsibility to these families. They look to me for answers. They trust me. They are putting an entire year of their child's education in my hands and whenever I really stop to think about that...well, it's huge and sometimes it leaves me breathless.
But I wouldn't have it any other way. I have the best job in the world.
Here they come walking through my doorway, a couple dozen moms and dads...nervous about this new type of conference in which we all meet together as a team. Such hopeful expressions, such vulnerability. It's time to face the teacher, and I can tell that although they don't quite know what to expect, they want so much to do the right thing for their kids. It's hard to be a parent during conference week.
I put them at ease. I tell them how wonderful their children are, and how lucky I feel to have them this year. I smile a lot, and my smiles are genuine.
I love talking to families about their kids, especially when we come together during conferences. Because at this moment, in this place, every child I teach is the most important person to their parents. The most special...loved beyond reason or explanation. No matter what non-sugar coated information I might need to relate about these kids, I never ever forget that each one of them is some mother's little Catie.
As I walk around and talk, I feel the weight of my responsibility to these families. They look to me for answers. They trust me. They are putting an entire year of their child's education in my hands and whenever I really stop to think about that...well, it's huge and sometimes it leaves me breathless.
But I wouldn't have it any other way. I have the best job in the world.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
where have all the endmarks gone
sometimes i wonder if there will come a day when we just dont use punctuation or capitalization anymore kind of a fallout from this new generation of texters they dont even seem to know how to use it and you wonder if they use that as a cover up because they dont know where a sentence ends i think maybe its just laziness regardless i think a well placed comma can make or break a piece of writing to say nothing of a few periods but maybe thats just me
Friday, February 4, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
More Than Cookies
I really miss my mother. I don't see her much anymore, for a lot of reasons. But I wish I did, I wish that we could get past some of those roadblocks. I think she could really use having me back in her life too.
Those memories of when I was a little girl baking in the kitchen with my mother are some of the nicest I have of my childhood. I guess I treasure them because really they are about something so much more than cookies. Something I wish I could still have.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
People Are Awesome
This weekend Kharli organized a car wash/bake sale for her boyfriend's family. He and his sister are taking care of their mom in hospice, and their dad passed away last week. They're grieving and struggling financially to get by.
When Kharli asked her friends and family for help...they really came through! I was impressed by how many people showed up today to labor for the benefit this family, and by how many others donated their time or money, or both.
It just did my heart a lot of good to see that today...
And to quote Kharli, "People are just awesome!"
When Kharli asked her friends and family for help...they really came through! I was impressed by how many people showed up today to labor for the benefit this family, and by how many others donated their time or money, or both.
It just did my heart a lot of good to see that today...
And to quote Kharli, "People are just awesome!"
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Sacrifice
I love my job. Really, really love my job. I don't even think of it as a "job", but more as a lifestyle. I get up every day and go do my thing. And it makes me happy.
But still, for all that, working is necessary. We can't afford for me not to earn a paycheck. It's not even something to consider.
I hear and read about a lot of other women who claim that they sacrifice so much so that they can stay home with their kids.
I think it's women like ME who are sacrificing. I'm not willing to not have a family just because I must earn a living, so I reluctantly send my little girls to daycare.
Daycare sucks.
Daycare gets the best of my girls. While I'm away teaching other people's kids, I don't get to nurture, teach, or care for my own. That's a sacrifice. I'm putting all my hopes into the idea that I can make up for that in the evenings and on weekends, but it's the biggest gamble. You don't get do-overs if you screw up the first 5 years.
I think being a mom is THE most important thing a person can be. Moms who stay home by choice, whose lifestyles can make that happen, are so lucky. So they give up nicer cell-phones or highlights or whatever. So what.
I give up something I can't even put into words, and it breaks my heart.
But still, for all that, working is necessary. We can't afford for me not to earn a paycheck. It's not even something to consider.
I hear and read about a lot of other women who claim that they sacrifice so much so that they can stay home with their kids.
I think it's women like ME who are sacrificing. I'm not willing to not have a family just because I must earn a living, so I reluctantly send my little girls to daycare.
Daycare sucks.
Daycare gets the best of my girls. While I'm away teaching other people's kids, I don't get to nurture, teach, or care for my own. That's a sacrifice. I'm putting all my hopes into the idea that I can make up for that in the evenings and on weekends, but it's the biggest gamble. You don't get do-overs if you screw up the first 5 years.
I think being a mom is THE most important thing a person can be. Moms who stay home by choice, whose lifestyles can make that happen, are so lucky. So they give up nicer cell-phones or highlights or whatever. So what.
I give up something I can't even put into words, and it breaks my heart.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)