Usually by May my teacher self is screaming "Mayday! Mayday!" I'm tired. I'm kinda tired of my kids. Don't get me wrong, I love my students. But they are currently blossoming into the fifth graders, and you know, I'm not cut out to teach fifth grade. When I taught K, I felt the same about my kinder-babies. I had them reading and writing, and they weren't as little and tiny as they once were, they were ready for first grade, and I was ready for...well, let's be honest, SUMMER!
When I turned the calendar this morning in the kitchen, I was hit with something I wasn't quite prepared for. You see, May is the month of my baby's birthday. My BABY is going to be two. How the heck did that happen? I still see her as a little baby. I saw the pictures of her first birthday plastered across the page and instantly I felt a little pang in my heart. It's hard to believe my youngest is going to be two. Somehow, I'm getting old.
Which brings me back to May. Historically, in my 29 year history at least, May has been an eventful month. It's the month I graduated high school & college, the month I accepted my first job, the month David & I pretty much made all the important decisions about our nuptials. In 2003, it was one of the most up and down months of my entire life. I had hurt my knee playing soccer and my parents had decided to schedule my surgery right in the middle of senior week, so I'd be laid up with my leg in a cast while my friends celebrated post-graduation by tanning and partying. I'd come to terms with this, as most of my friends were boys, and doubtfully my parents would let me spend a night, let alone a week, with my closet friends of the opposite sex away from home. The night of our baccalaureate service, May 18, I was limping around getting my cap and gown together. I had to speak at the service briefly as I represented my peers as class president. The phone rang. I answered it, curling iron in hand. On the other end was my boyfriend and one of my closest friends in general. Just for reference, we didn't have caller id on the line I answered, it was a rotary phone in fact. I'm not sure why it matters, but I had no idea who was on the other end of the phone when I answered it. I just heard breathing. Finally, he said kinda all in one breath, "Therewasacaraccident. Devin and Alisha didn't make it." I was lost. My circle of friends who shared a lunch table, Chris, Travis, Devin, Shandy, Glenn and me, one didn't make it? My chest is still tight just thinking about that conversation, that night in general. The other details are blurred, but those next two weeks as we prepared for graduation were so hard.
My mom had left for a multi-night field trip with her fourth grade class, my sister was around, but I vaguely remember. My dad held my hand as we attended Devin and her sister's visitation, her funeral, and the Board of Education meeting where I was being recognized for something (I honestly don't remember what, he just said I had to go). My high school English teacher hugged me at that meeting as we prayed for my friend's parents, who in one instant, lost their entire family. I still remember that warm hug (that sense of comfort is one I try to pass on to my students when they feel lost, hurt or sad too). So, this morning when I turned my calendar to the month of May, I thought of my friend, I thought of her mom and dad, I saw the faces of my little girls and cannot imagine the hole in their hearts. I still remember May 23 when I sat on the stage and looked at my classmates, saw the chair skipped with the green gown draped over the backrest limply, my friend should have been right there, proudly wearing her gown. I miss my lunch bunch friends, we are scattered about with busy lives. I have what might of been questions from time to time, but more so in May.
Last year on the 18th, we celebrated Anna's birthday. It was so nice for me, 10 years later, to have something happy to associate that day with. As much as I'm looking forward to summer, to spending time with my girls, and just having some time off to breathe, I'm grateful for the here and now, there's no guarantees for tomorrow. This month serves as a big reminder of that to me. So as my patience grows shorter, my prayers grow longer, and I do my best to remember my sweet friend and live this life to the fullest.
Thursday, May 1, 2014
Sunday, April 13, 2014
Please pass (on) the cake...
A couple weeks ago a friend mentioned in a Facebook group she was embarking on a Whole30. I was curious as to what exactly this was, so I googled it and thought, "hum... I think I could, and probably should try that." As I was reading over the "rules" to David, he laughed at me and said, "honey, I have been trying to get to give up your soft drink habit, I seriously doubt you could do that." I heard that as a challenge. Challenge accepted.
Since I was a middle schooler, sitting down to eat hasn't been my thing. I still remember eating a Fudge Round and drinking a chocolate milk for lunch every single day. I didn't improve too much by high school. I'd drink a gatorade and have a granola bar and call it a meal. Having two toddlers hasn't helped my eating habits, but I'm a lot hungrier. I used to blame it on nursing, now I'm just guessing I probably need to eat more than a prepackaged bar at mealtime. I still call a couple granola bars dinner and some Little Debbie snack cakes dessert, all the while I drink pop like water. I really want to do better and set positive example for my little princesses, and this seemed like a perfect opportunity--While I have a few buddies going through the same things and holding me accountable.
So what is a Whole30? Basically 30 days of eating nothing but "real" food. No processed foods, no grains, no legumes, no sugar. Ah! That sounds terrible, right? Since I eat so much crap, eating other things in its place, didn't seem so bad actually. The website says, "Think of it as a short-term nutritional reset, designed to help you put an end to unhealthy cravings and habits, restore a healthy metabolism, heal your digestive tract, and balance your immune system."
All of this seemed doable and worth my while. I really just wanted to kick my pop habit, but I don't snack on junk so much any more, and I don't really miss anything (this is Day 13). I say that, then the past 2 weekends I have been daunted by yummy birthday cakes, both from Costco, with that amazing layer of icing in the center. Both times, I've fed the girls their pieces, without even licking my fingers. I am tired of cooking and preparing food all the darn time, and my teacher lunch box is probably the hardest thing to plan ahead. However, I already don't feel the need for my morning and midday Mt. Dews, and let me just say, the need was real. I do miss a glass of wine in the evening, and on Day 31, that's the first "rule" I'm looking forward to breaking. It is nice to do something that will make me a better me though, because if I'm a better "me" then I'm going to be a better mommy, wife, and teacher. Plus, I've got to prove my husband wrong.
Since I was a middle schooler, sitting down to eat hasn't been my thing. I still remember eating a Fudge Round and drinking a chocolate milk for lunch every single day. I didn't improve too much by high school. I'd drink a gatorade and have a granola bar and call it a meal. Having two toddlers hasn't helped my eating habits, but I'm a lot hungrier. I used to blame it on nursing, now I'm just guessing I probably need to eat more than a prepackaged bar at mealtime. I still call a couple granola bars dinner and some Little Debbie snack cakes dessert, all the while I drink pop like water. I really want to do better and set positive example for my little princesses, and this seemed like a perfect opportunity--While I have a few buddies going through the same things and holding me accountable.
So what is a Whole30? Basically 30 days of eating nothing but "real" food. No processed foods, no grains, no legumes, no sugar. Ah! That sounds terrible, right? Since I eat so much crap, eating other things in its place, didn't seem so bad actually. The website says, "Think of it as a short-term nutritional reset, designed to help you put an end to unhealthy cravings and habits, restore a healthy metabolism, heal your digestive tract, and balance your immune system."
All of this seemed doable and worth my while. I really just wanted to kick my pop habit, but I don't snack on junk so much any more, and I don't really miss anything (this is Day 13). I say that, then the past 2 weekends I have been daunted by yummy birthday cakes, both from Costco, with that amazing layer of icing in the center. Both times, I've fed the girls their pieces, without even licking my fingers. I am tired of cooking and preparing food all the darn time, and my teacher lunch box is probably the hardest thing to plan ahead. However, I already don't feel the need for my morning and midday Mt. Dews, and let me just say, the need was real. I do miss a glass of wine in the evening, and on Day 31, that's the first "rule" I'm looking forward to breaking. It is nice to do something that will make me a better me though, because if I'm a better "me" then I'm going to be a better mommy, wife, and teacher. Plus, I've got to prove my husband wrong.
Sunday, March 30, 2014
Keeping It Real
I attended this huge women's fellowship luncheon with my mom yesterday at church. I was anxious to say the least, not because my dad was watching the girls, but because I was not watching them. Monday through Friday they are happy little "school-goers," but this week had been different. They hadn't quite been well, and I was worried they would eat something that would either hurt their tummies or they'd be allergic to. Both very real realities in our world.
Anyway, I was glad to get away to eat some real food, to see familiar faces, and to hopefully hear some encouraging words. I make no jokes about it, for the most part, I don't really enjoy time with many women. I had one best friend through school and the rest of my friends were boys. Today, I feel like I have NO time between work and my kids, and I don't have any friends who are in that same place. Being a working mommy is different than staying home (both equally hard in their own rights), and having more than one child is whole other ballgame. Add that that my husband and I are not close in age, his friends and my friends are different, because we relate to them because of our ages. I've slowly started to try to make a little time for myself, but it's an effort.
When the speaker walked up to the stage, I kinda sighed. I am sure this isn't for me. In her floor length skirt, her perfectly painted nails, not a hair out of place, the stay at home wife to a pastor certainly can't tell me anything. "I have a passion for women's ministries. Women need to get together, to talk about emotions, to share those feelings." GAG ME. The next words are the ones I took home though, "women need to keep it real." She went on to talk about carving time out for God, something I don't do near enough of, and the ways, as women, we can let our light shine in the world. But it all goes back to keeping it real, and being open and honest with ourselves and God. Something I am not always good at; I'm too busy trying to be perfect or making other people at least think I am.
I got two really sweet Facebook messages this week. One from a friend expecting her second bundle of joy and wanted a little affirmation on how to manage two sweet ones close in age, another from a college classmate wanting a little advice on incorporating literacy in her toddler's day to day schedule. While I loved sharing, and I'm long-winded anyway, I thought Saturday about these messages, and I wondered, "What kind of message does 'facebook Rachel' send out? Does she keep it real?" So, while my Pinterest boards are full of fun literacy ideas, great toddler meal plans, and my girls love doing art projects and reading books, our house is not always running flawlessly.
I have a pack n play full of clean laundry. I don't know if I ever really intend on folding it, I grab whatever I'm going to wear out of it, fluff in the dryer and it's good to go. No one has slept in there in forever, maybe because they hated "baby jail" or maybe because their mommy was too lazy to fold those clothes up anyway. My goal for spring break is to get the laundry put away and either cosign the thing or turn it into a toy box or reading corner for the girls.
I shower while my kids are in the bathtub. Before you gasp at the dangers of this, I put just a little bit of water, the garden tub and the shower are side by side, and thank goodness for the builder's grade mirrored glass behind the sinks (the kind they shudder at on House Hunters), it gives me a clear view of the girls. It's really the only way I've figured out how to get a shower.
We have an ant problem in our house. I don't know what to do about other than vacuuming and sweeping all the darn time. I've tried to make everyone eat at the table, and Daddy still sneaks all the kids snacks away from their respected chairs, and we will have 1 crumb in the playroom and 100 ants. I'm scared to put out poison for the ants, because as much as I want them dead, I don't want my kids dead. So, I squish and clean, and while it's not infested, and more of a bother than anything, it exists. I hate it.
I don't really ever sleep. Anna still wakes at night, we cosleep much to my displeasure, and I can't remember the last time I slept all night. I'm sure it was at 30-something weeks pregnant in 2010. I get really ill when I'm tired. I get weepy and cranky; worse than either one of my toddlers. While usually, I'm not overly hormonal or sensitive, I am when I'm tired. I feel like I'm on year 4 of PMS'ing sometimes. I took a nap today. So, today's a good day!
I don't get sad when I pack up baby clothes. I don't really miss my babies being babies. While I loved holding little squishy Anna & Reagan, I am really scared of tiny babies. I still am not quite sure how they survived. I had no idea what I was doing.
I sometimes loath my husband. Not because of anything he does or doesn't do. I am a bit jealous of his lifestyle. Despite of all the changes I've had in my life, his life (his Sundays of golf, grabbing lunch with a friend, going on a boys' weekend) has not changed. He can just go, and I guess I could put my foot down, but undoubtedly it wouldn't change anything. I complain about it from time to time, and he "gets it" but he doesn't REALLY get it. I love my littles and wouldn't change anything about the time I've invested into their childhood, but it's tough work!
I am sure I could go on, but the point is, I saw the lady's point. We need to be real with ourselves, with each other. I think sometimes the pressure to be perfect comes from comparing ourselves to other people we think are doing it the right way. So while Anna and Reagan are wearing clothes out of the Pack 'n Play today, and I killed three ants in the kitchen, we're happy. I've set aside time for me to spend in devotion and a little more time to do that with my girls. If I can set the example of being honest and real with my girls, maybe they won't feel the pressure to be perfect, they won't fool themselves into thinking that these actions (of people pleasing) are what distinguishes their worth as women and Christians.
Anyway, I was glad to get away to eat some real food, to see familiar faces, and to hopefully hear some encouraging words. I make no jokes about it, for the most part, I don't really enjoy time with many women. I had one best friend through school and the rest of my friends were boys. Today, I feel like I have NO time between work and my kids, and I don't have any friends who are in that same place. Being a working mommy is different than staying home (both equally hard in their own rights), and having more than one child is whole other ballgame. Add that that my husband and I are not close in age, his friends and my friends are different, because we relate to them because of our ages. I've slowly started to try to make a little time for myself, but it's an effort.
When the speaker walked up to the stage, I kinda sighed. I am sure this isn't for me. In her floor length skirt, her perfectly painted nails, not a hair out of place, the stay at home wife to a pastor certainly can't tell me anything. "I have a passion for women's ministries. Women need to get together, to talk about emotions, to share those feelings." GAG ME. The next words are the ones I took home though, "women need to keep it real." She went on to talk about carving time out for God, something I don't do near enough of, and the ways, as women, we can let our light shine in the world. But it all goes back to keeping it real, and being open and honest with ourselves and God. Something I am not always good at; I'm too busy trying to be perfect or making other people at least think I am.
I got two really sweet Facebook messages this week. One from a friend expecting her second bundle of joy and wanted a little affirmation on how to manage two sweet ones close in age, another from a college classmate wanting a little advice on incorporating literacy in her toddler's day to day schedule. While I loved sharing, and I'm long-winded anyway, I thought Saturday about these messages, and I wondered, "What kind of message does 'facebook Rachel' send out? Does she keep it real?" So, while my Pinterest boards are full of fun literacy ideas, great toddler meal plans, and my girls love doing art projects and reading books, our house is not always running flawlessly.
I have a pack n play full of clean laundry. I don't know if I ever really intend on folding it, I grab whatever I'm going to wear out of it, fluff in the dryer and it's good to go. No one has slept in there in forever, maybe because they hated "baby jail" or maybe because their mommy was too lazy to fold those clothes up anyway. My goal for spring break is to get the laundry put away and either cosign the thing or turn it into a toy box or reading corner for the girls.
I shower while my kids are in the bathtub. Before you gasp at the dangers of this, I put just a little bit of water, the garden tub and the shower are side by side, and thank goodness for the builder's grade mirrored glass behind the sinks (the kind they shudder at on House Hunters), it gives me a clear view of the girls. It's really the only way I've figured out how to get a shower.
We have an ant problem in our house. I don't know what to do about other than vacuuming and sweeping all the darn time. I've tried to make everyone eat at the table, and Daddy still sneaks all the kids snacks away from their respected chairs, and we will have 1 crumb in the playroom and 100 ants. I'm scared to put out poison for the ants, because as much as I want them dead, I don't want my kids dead. So, I squish and clean, and while it's not infested, and more of a bother than anything, it exists. I hate it.
I don't really ever sleep. Anna still wakes at night, we cosleep much to my displeasure, and I can't remember the last time I slept all night. I'm sure it was at 30-something weeks pregnant in 2010. I get really ill when I'm tired. I get weepy and cranky; worse than either one of my toddlers. While usually, I'm not overly hormonal or sensitive, I am when I'm tired. I feel like I'm on year 4 of PMS'ing sometimes. I took a nap today. So, today's a good day!
I don't get sad when I pack up baby clothes. I don't really miss my babies being babies. While I loved holding little squishy Anna & Reagan, I am really scared of tiny babies. I still am not quite sure how they survived. I had no idea what I was doing.
I sometimes loath my husband. Not because of anything he does or doesn't do. I am a bit jealous of his lifestyle. Despite of all the changes I've had in my life, his life (his Sundays of golf, grabbing lunch with a friend, going on a boys' weekend) has not changed. He can just go, and I guess I could put my foot down, but undoubtedly it wouldn't change anything. I complain about it from time to time, and he "gets it" but he doesn't REALLY get it. I love my littles and wouldn't change anything about the time I've invested into their childhood, but it's tough work!
I am sure I could go on, but the point is, I saw the lady's point. We need to be real with ourselves, with each other. I think sometimes the pressure to be perfect comes from comparing ourselves to other people we think are doing it the right way. So while Anna and Reagan are wearing clothes out of the Pack 'n Play today, and I killed three ants in the kitchen, we're happy. I've set aside time for me to spend in devotion and a little more time to do that with my girls. If I can set the example of being honest and real with my girls, maybe they won't feel the pressure to be perfect, they won't fool themselves into thinking that these actions (of people pleasing) are what distinguishes their worth as women and Christians.
Monday, March 3, 2014
Upward
Little man finished up his Upward basketball season last weekend, and I'll be honest, even though it was nice not rushing from gymnastics to court side, I missed it! Growing up playing rec basketball, a member of the middle school and high school teams, playing super competitive basketball, I was a bit hesitant of the Upward league. They had some rules that bothered the competitor in me. You HAD to play man to man, you couldn't switch even after a screen. If a team outscored their opponents by more than 10, then the scoreboard didn't budge until they were back within range. I wasn't sure if it was teaching the kids real skills.
However, I watched Brent grow so much over the eight week span. His ball handling, his defense (his defense a lot---he learned that he wasn't a little Lebron, he had to work with his teammates), his ability to anticipate what was coming next, and his confidence. Not to mention, Brent grew in Christ. He asked me some pretty tough questions about heaven and hell and what happens after death. He asked me about people who don't believe. I am certain this questions were spurred by verses learned at their weekly practices and the devotions held during halftime and post games. David's response to Brent's questions usually is "ask Rachel," no matter what it's about--from fractions to faith. But this time, Brent turned to me first. Having that responsibility is huge, but I guess knowing that I spent a lot of time teaching Sunday School and forcing him to read the Picture Book Bible in kindergarten, left me as the resident expert.
So, even if I disagreed with some of the ways the games were played, I can't disagree with the deeper message. Even though I didn't love some of the rules skewed, I can't help but love my favorite little man wanting to be more like Christ. Having a child look to you and want to know more about what it means to be a Christian kinda makes all the "rules" look much less important. They didn't always win (his team finished 8-3, so they did have to lose gracefully), we haven't had awards day, so I'm not certain if they all are awarded trophies or not, but you know, it really doesn't matter. I'm a huge fan of Upward sports because the life lessons it's taught my little man far outweigh his draft chances anyway. In a day where bullies are driving kids to unthinkable acts, where families can't get along, where kids are left alone to be independent way too much, there needs to be some rays of sunshine. This league is certainly some sunshine in our community.
However, I watched Brent grow so much over the eight week span. His ball handling, his defense (his defense a lot---he learned that he wasn't a little Lebron, he had to work with his teammates), his ability to anticipate what was coming next, and his confidence. Not to mention, Brent grew in Christ. He asked me some pretty tough questions about heaven and hell and what happens after death. He asked me about people who don't believe. I am certain this questions were spurred by verses learned at their weekly practices and the devotions held during halftime and post games. David's response to Brent's questions usually is "ask Rachel," no matter what it's about--from fractions to faith. But this time, Brent turned to me first. Having that responsibility is huge, but I guess knowing that I spent a lot of time teaching Sunday School and forcing him to read the Picture Book Bible in kindergarten, left me as the resident expert.
So, even if I disagreed with some of the ways the games were played, I can't disagree with the deeper message. Even though I didn't love some of the rules skewed, I can't help but love my favorite little man wanting to be more like Christ. Having a child look to you and want to know more about what it means to be a Christian kinda makes all the "rules" look much less important. They didn't always win (his team finished 8-3, so they did have to lose gracefully), we haven't had awards day, so I'm not certain if they all are awarded trophies or not, but you know, it really doesn't matter. I'm a huge fan of Upward sports because the life lessons it's taught my little man far outweigh his draft chances anyway. In a day where bullies are driving kids to unthinkable acts, where families can't get along, where kids are left alone to be independent way too much, there needs to be some rays of sunshine. This league is certainly some sunshine in our community.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
YOLO {you're only little once}
It seems like in our house the changing of the calendar means birthdays. Bub's birthday is in February, Reagan's is at the tail end of March, and Anna's falls right in the middle of May. My birthday is in there too, but I'm at the point, I've really stopped aging anyway, so it's not too important. That is, as long as David is sure to buy me a sappy card and cake. It is still my birthday after all.
In these days of super mommies, Pinterest, internet shopping, nailing the perfect party seems to come with a bit of pressure. We've had Mario, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Minnie Mouse, and monkey themed parties. Now, that my little biggest princess is nearly 3, she is very demanding. I had pinned super cute cowgirl themed parties. She got a really cute cowgirl costume for Christmas, I just knew that would be her theme this year.... Until, she demanded she was going to have a "Peter Pan birthday." Wait, my girlie princess, wants a Peter Pan birthday? This is not going to work with the pink cowgirl, land lover, over the top feminine party I had envisioned. And you know what, that's okay. You're only little once.
I'm much too mature to be wearing trendy clothes and captioning my Instagram selfies with YOLO, but when I saw the catch phrase in my latest Parents magazine interpreted to fit my littles, I sighed a bit. It already does go by fast. Sometimes that's not always a bad thing. It seems like once a month I'm cleaning up vomit. One day they'll be able to hit the toilet. That will be awesome. When empty nesters tell you "you're gonna miss this," they were not talking about vomit, sleeping on the couch, being pooped on, kids screaming in the backseat of your car the entire hour long trip, or cleaning food up off the floor constantly.
However, the endearing sweet moments truly outweigh the bad. Anna still lets me rock her to sleep, she's my last baby, I'm going to keep on rocking that sweet pea. Reagan declares "Mommy, I like you, I really do!!!" at the top of her lungs at least 10 times a day. How cute is that?! She also likes wearing "a neighborHOOD" (hoodie), loves "kandas" (pandas), and helps teach sign language to her sister (we did it with her, I've been slack with Anna, Reagan picked up my slack). The girls are constantly giving checkups with their doctor kits, after we thank them by singing "So Much Better" Doc McStuffens style, they both will say, "it was no biggie." Brent will pick up the girls, carry them, give them sloppy kisses, and secretly delights in Anna calling him "bubba" even though he would never admit it in public. My heart has never been so mushy.
I keep the girls in line, in fact I laugh when Anna is doing something she shouldn't, Reagan will firmly say, "No ma'am!" in her best mommy tone. But when it comes to the everyday little things, I really try to remember they are just toddlers. So, it snowed tiny tidbits of tissues in my living room today. We played in it for a while. We threw it in the air, danced around, sang like Elsa and Anna in Frozen, and then we all three got our vacuum cleaners and cleaned it up. Poor Anna's vacuum is actually a Fisher Price bubble lawn mower, but it works. They are helpers. They have great imaginations. They are little. In the midst of wanting to pull my hair out, I remind myself this time is too short. They will only be this little once.
Sunday, January 12, 2014
I Hate That Girl!
If you had asked me ten years ago how I anticipated my future, it would be absolutely nothing like it is at the present. I was a bit self centered at 18, used to being the center of attention, the brightest (or pretty darn near it) crayon in the box, and I had everything figured out. I was done with one semester of college and only part of that bubble had burst. Maybe college level calculus wasn't for me, but in my circle of friends that managed to stay tight (perhaps because I dated one of them, and the rest were our mutual pals) despite the distance our separate universities put between us, I still got most of the limelight. I was going to graduate, marry my high school sweetheart, wait a few years, adopt some Asian babies (babies get out how!?) and be a stay at home mom. My kids would drink formula (because breastfeeding is weird, my mom bottle fed me, and I'm awesome), be potty trained by 18 months, go to church preschool a few days a week so I could train for and run half marathons.
Oh my gosh! I hate that girl! If you do those things, that is totally awesome, it was MY attitude I hate. It was still all about me. My first year teaching totally changed everything. My high school sweetheart moved away to pursue his "over" graduate degree (he kept referring to his undergrad work as easy peasy, it ticked me off), we grew apart fast. I threw myself into my work, and it really consumed me anyways. I had a really tough group of third graders. Nothing like the country club kids I student taught with. Nothing like the small K-8 school I attended and my mom taught at. It was scary some days. I had one student that I'm pretty sure was certifiably crazy and another that had such a bad home life, I didn't stand a chance at school. By Christmas, I was convinced I had chosen the wrong profession and I really needed to go back to school and become a physical therapist. I begged my parents to let me use the money I was saving by staying at home to help fund my new career, they insisted I had to teach the next four years thanks to my hefty "loan" of a Teaching Fellows Scholarship.
The biggest blessing I had was a really great group of gals to work with (my 'seur ladies, you will always hold a dear place in my heart). We'd plan lessons, go out, share stories, couches, and good times. It's thanks to one of them insisting I go out with her one Saturday night that I now know my husband. But really, you need a support system when you have kids throwing desks at you (not an exaggeration). So, I muddled through the year, survived EOGs, was informed I was moving up to fourth grade via mass email, and at this point would have settled for a new school instead of a new degree. I couldn't imagine teaching the little monsters I had had this year again, luckily the principal agreed with me, and made sure I had a little say in my class list the next year. That year was better, and I loved fourth grade, ended up engaged, and had found confidence in my field. I wasn't the best or perfect, but by making really close friends in my colleagues who had been in the profession for longer, I realized in teaching, there's probably no best or perfect.
I got married before the next school year, hated the commute from our home to my school and ended up taking a job nearby at an "easy school." My life changed drastically in a short time. I was adjusting to being in a new place as home, to suburban life, to a new school, new grade level, new life as a wife and a stepmomma. Part of the reason I chose to leave my school (other than travel time), was I knew we wanted to try to have a baby. One night as I was working on lesson plans, my stepson slammed my computer shut. With big, teary eyes he told me I could work on that when he was at his moms. My attitude toward work was changing, and I knew the more we added to our family, the more I would have to balance. After I accepted the job, we decided we'd let life happen, and 7 months later, I was taking pictures of digital pregnancy tests and sending them to David at work. I thought life had changed a lot, I had no idea what the next three years would bring.
So, two babies later, that are mine biologically (they don't look Asian one bit), I'm not the girl I was 10 years ago...at all. I actually like working, and sometimes need to work (okay, I always need to work for benefits and fiscal responsibilities) for my sanity. There's no training while the kids are at preschool, there's just staff development while they're catching who knows what at daycare. I nursed Reagan until being pregnant totally wiped out my supply. We are working on weaning now, but at 20 months, my toddler still nurses to sleep. My 18 year old self is appalled, but as I'm quickly approaching 29, I realize it's not really about me anymore. Potty training is harder than college calculus! I still like buying new shoes, getting a hair cut (even if it's like once a year now), and a mani/pedi, but now, I love snuggles (even if they involve lots of drool), family mornings in bed just the five of us, and the occasional slow jog with the double stroller. My Saturdays are consumed with gymnastics and Upward sports, my full night of sleep on my tummy is interrupted by teething, bad dreams, and cries for a binkie. It's unlike anything I had planned. It is so much better. I wish I hadn't been so self centered when I was younger. There are some really unkind things it caused me to do and say. I've had my share of dark days recently, especially when I found out I was pregnant when my baby was just six months old, and my husband, who is several years my senior, was ready to be done after our one. But, if anything, we've both learned to put our little ones as a priority, trust God's plan and timing, and work together for the sake of our family. The girl I was would have been too consumed with herself to ever be the wife, mommy, teacher, friend I am today. She wasn't all bad, but I sure am glad she grew up, even if her side and big toe had to catch a desk along the way.
Oh my gosh! I hate that girl! If you do those things, that is totally awesome, it was MY attitude I hate. It was still all about me. My first year teaching totally changed everything. My high school sweetheart moved away to pursue his "over" graduate degree (he kept referring to his undergrad work as easy peasy, it ticked me off), we grew apart fast. I threw myself into my work, and it really consumed me anyways. I had a really tough group of third graders. Nothing like the country club kids I student taught with. Nothing like the small K-8 school I attended and my mom taught at. It was scary some days. I had one student that I'm pretty sure was certifiably crazy and another that had such a bad home life, I didn't stand a chance at school. By Christmas, I was convinced I had chosen the wrong profession and I really needed to go back to school and become a physical therapist. I begged my parents to let me use the money I was saving by staying at home to help fund my new career, they insisted I had to teach the next four years thanks to my hefty "loan" of a Teaching Fellows Scholarship.
The biggest blessing I had was a really great group of gals to work with (my 'seur ladies, you will always hold a dear place in my heart). We'd plan lessons, go out, share stories, couches, and good times. It's thanks to one of them insisting I go out with her one Saturday night that I now know my husband. But really, you need a support system when you have kids throwing desks at you (not an exaggeration). So, I muddled through the year, survived EOGs, was informed I was moving up to fourth grade via mass email, and at this point would have settled for a new school instead of a new degree. I couldn't imagine teaching the little monsters I had had this year again, luckily the principal agreed with me, and made sure I had a little say in my class list the next year. That year was better, and I loved fourth grade, ended up engaged, and had found confidence in my field. I wasn't the best or perfect, but by making really close friends in my colleagues who had been in the profession for longer, I realized in teaching, there's probably no best or perfect.
I got married before the next school year, hated the commute from our home to my school and ended up taking a job nearby at an "easy school." My life changed drastically in a short time. I was adjusting to being in a new place as home, to suburban life, to a new school, new grade level, new life as a wife and a stepmomma. Part of the reason I chose to leave my school (other than travel time), was I knew we wanted to try to have a baby. One night as I was working on lesson plans, my stepson slammed my computer shut. With big, teary eyes he told me I could work on that when he was at his moms. My attitude toward work was changing, and I knew the more we added to our family, the more I would have to balance. After I accepted the job, we decided we'd let life happen, and 7 months later, I was taking pictures of digital pregnancy tests and sending them to David at work. I thought life had changed a lot, I had no idea what the next three years would bring.
So, two babies later, that are mine biologically (they don't look Asian one bit), I'm not the girl I was 10 years ago...at all. I actually like working, and sometimes need to work (okay, I always need to work for benefits and fiscal responsibilities) for my sanity. There's no training while the kids are at preschool, there's just staff development while they're catching who knows what at daycare. I nursed Reagan until being pregnant totally wiped out my supply. We are working on weaning now, but at 20 months, my toddler still nurses to sleep. My 18 year old self is appalled, but as I'm quickly approaching 29, I realize it's not really about me anymore. Potty training is harder than college calculus! I still like buying new shoes, getting a hair cut (even if it's like once a year now), and a mani/pedi, but now, I love snuggles (even if they involve lots of drool), family mornings in bed just the five of us, and the occasional slow jog with the double stroller. My Saturdays are consumed with gymnastics and Upward sports, my full night of sleep on my tummy is interrupted by teething, bad dreams, and cries for a binkie. It's unlike anything I had planned. It is so much better. I wish I hadn't been so self centered when I was younger. There are some really unkind things it caused me to do and say. I've had my share of dark days recently, especially when I found out I was pregnant when my baby was just six months old, and my husband, who is several years my senior, was ready to be done after our one. But, if anything, we've both learned to put our little ones as a priority, trust God's plan and timing, and work together for the sake of our family. The girl I was would have been too consumed with herself to ever be the wife, mommy, teacher, friend I am today. She wasn't all bad, but I sure am glad she grew up, even if her side and big toe had to catch a desk along the way.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Smile at the Mess
I saw a funny post the other day about Pinterest fails. I'll be honest, there are a few pinteresty ideas, I've totally nailed. Wine gift basket, awesome. Baby in a pumpkin, perfection. Footprint art for dad, adorable. But truthfully, when it comes to doing anything with kids, especially toddlers, things rarely go right, the first time at least.
Last night, I sat down with the girls to glue their puff to Santa's beard for our Christmas Countdown. I planned to let them color while I started dinner. I moved their adorable Santas to the back of the kitchen table, sat out a few coloring sheets and blank papers, and put the bucket of crayons nearby. Unfortunately, David bought Reagan some markers which somehow got mixed into the crayon box. I wasn't really paying attention to their art time. They were content, I got dinner in the oven, well, I turn around and look at their work and see this...
Now, before I actually was a mom, I would have probably been a little more upset about this creative expression. Between mothering toddlers and spending 3 years in kindergarten, the perfectionist in me has let go, the control freak had to take a permanmet vacation. A bit of me still cringes when I see my beautiful vision trampled on a bit, but tonight when we were waiting for our ravioli to bake, we painted a few of the salt dough ornaments we made over the weekend. They dried and before bedtime, I added Rea's name to hers and some red ribbon too. She loved it so much she took it to bed. She didn't love it because I instructed her every brushstroke or insist that she not mix the red and purple paint. She loved it because she did it herself. Kids today are forced to be big too fast, their little imaginations forced to take a break while they are crammed full of curricular knowledge. Creative expression was somehow left out of the common core. Yes, I will teach her to say please and thank you. I will make her follow directions on where to store her dirty laundry, but when it comes to creating with my littles, I will do one of the toughest things for me. I will let go and smile at the mess.
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| Pinterest Wins! |
Last night, I sat down with the girls to glue their puff to Santa's beard for our Christmas Countdown. I planned to let them color while I started dinner. I moved their adorable Santas to the back of the kitchen table, sat out a few coloring sheets and blank papers, and put the bucket of crayons nearby. Unfortunately, David bought Reagan some markers which somehow got mixed into the crayon box. I wasn't really paying attention to their art time. They were content, I got dinner in the oven, well, I turn around and look at their work and see this...
Now, before I actually was a mom, I would have probably been a little more upset about this creative expression. Between mothering toddlers and spending 3 years in kindergarten, the perfectionist in me has let go, the control freak had to take a permanmet vacation. A bit of me still cringes when I see my beautiful vision trampled on a bit, but tonight when we were waiting for our ravioli to bake, we painted a few of the salt dough ornaments we made over the weekend. They dried and before bedtime, I added Rea's name to hers and some red ribbon too. She loved it so much she took it to bed. She didn't love it because I instructed her every brushstroke or insist that she not mix the red and purple paint. She loved it because she did it herself. Kids today are forced to be big too fast, their little imaginations forced to take a break while they are crammed full of curricular knowledge. Creative expression was somehow left out of the common core. Yes, I will teach her to say please and thank you. I will make her follow directions on where to store her dirty laundry, but when it comes to creating with my littles, I will do one of the toughest things for me. I will let go and smile at the mess.
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