Must Be Doing Something Right...or at Least Okay

My mom was a teacher, and a REALLY good one.  So good, that it intimidated me into teaching in a different county at a completely different type of school when I graduated from college.  My mom poured her heart and soul into her classroom.  Maybe so much that I felt a little envious of her students from time to time, because I felt that they may be getting a little better chunk of my mom's time than I did.

I'll never forget my dad saying that when he'd drive past the Highfalls Elementary parking lot at 5:00 and my mom was the only one still parked in her parking spot that perhaps, it wasn't the teachers leaving at 3:30 that were doing something wrong.  After all, as women that work outside the home, our only jobs aren't those that we drive to on the daily.  There are still people within the four walls we live in that count on us too.  I took those words to heart and have always tried to devote the better me to my husband, stepson, and little girls.

That is, until lately.  When I left school Friday at nearly 6, I felt really down.  On myself, on my job, for my girls, for my messy house, for the fact that I left so much undone.  I had helped a coworker with somethings she needed help with, somethings that my administration had asked me and trusted me to do, and it left me feeling empty.  Because while I had done those things, things that I'm more than willing to do, other things had fallen to the wayside.  Preparing for my new student, lesson planning, picking up my babies at a decent time.... those things.  And I was so upset with myself.  I felt like I just wasn't getting it right.

Today's my birthday.  Number 31.  You'd hope that by this point you'd be doing somethings right in life.  I'm nearly 1/3 of the way through my teaching career, and probably over 1/3 of the way through this life God's given me to live on earth, but on Friday, I just wasn't sure if I had gotten any of it right.  My kids were some of the last kids left at the daycare, I cried all the way home because I felt so horrible about it, and  then fed them Sheetz hotdogs that made us all sick.  Mother of the year right here. But this morning over breakfast, after my 3 year old blessed our meal, my Facebook messenger app dinged, and a student I taught my first year messaged me the sweetest birthday message and I cried again.  Not guilty tears, tears that maybe I'm getting some of this right.  Another sweet student from just last year left me a video message, and maybe her mom made her do it, but I don't care where the sentiment came from, it was one I needed more than ever.

I'm my own toughest critic.  I'm not sure I'll ever fill my mom's shoes; if I'll be the mother or teacher I think I should be, but today on my thirty first birthday, I'm sure two little girls touched my heart, because maybe I touched theirs, and that does make all of this craziness worth it.

Maybe Christmas Doesn't Come From a Store...

Maybe Christmas means a little bit more.  We watched the classic animated Grinch movie yesterday after our class party, and I paused at this Dr. Seuss quote. I told my students that this is absolutely one of my favorite holiday quotes.  I asked them what they thought it meant and we discussed for a bit. We talked about doing for others, about how there are times when you can't give people gifts even when they deserve it, but you can give them your love, your attention, and your respect.  That means so much more than monetary gifts.

The past few weeks, I have been spread thin. Between holiday plays, holiday parties, volunteering, and my own Christmas shopping, cards and preparations, I have been  so exhausted (not to mention the fact my 3 year old STILL DOESN'T SLEEP ALL NIGHT). It's easy to lose sight of the big picture.  You know, why we do all this-- to spread the good news, to celebrate the love of our God, the amazing birth of our savior. As a public school teacher, I don't blatantly profess my Christianity to my students, but I hope my school babies sense my love somehow. Whether they assume it's from my heart or from somewhere else.

A couple weeks ago, I got the opportunity to serve at an event at our church.  Families came, the kids played in snowball fights, inflatables, photo booths and got their faces painted, their bellies full of sweet treats and shopped for their moms and dads, all the while their mommies and daddies loaded their trunks with food and presents.  At the event, I saw one of Reagan and Anna's friends from daycare, and my heart was so full.  I still get all choked up thinking about seeing parents putting in those coveted Elsa bikes in their trucks. The next night, the same event took place at a venue close to my school, and when we watched the video at church on Sunday, I saw several familiar faces.  These faces weren't just ones I passed by in the mornings when I dropped the babies off.  These were faces I saw all school day long, in the midst of reading novels and learning long division.  These faces were the faces not of families who just needed a little help, these faces had names.  They were kids I knew so much better than just from a night of service at church.

In our daily lives, we may not realize that the people who are closest to us, are the ones that need the most help, or we might, but they may try our patience and we forget (remember, I am a teacher and kids are still kids) that there's more than what's on the surface; more than the preteen attitudes and lack of homework in their agendas. They need love, they need your patience (even though they try it), they just need to know you care. Without going into specific detail, this year more than ever, I have been so grateful for our blessings; more aware that there are families without.  Families that are doing the best they can.  Families that love their children just as much as we love ours, but their circumstances just aren't the same. They aren't able to make all the wishes from their kids' wishes lists come true.  They aren't even able to make sure their basic needs are met.  My prayer this holiday season is for them to be safe, to be happy and content with what they are given and for the new year to bring about abundant blessings for them.  Because after all, maybe Christmas doesn't come from a store, maybe Christmas perhaps, means a little bit more!

Everyday Blessings

It's that month.  The one month a year we are all reminded to be thankful.  I really try all the time, but sometimes the stress of day to day life overshadow all blessings that surround me.  Today a friend posted about taking time out to notice those daily blessings, and I decided to step up to that challenge. To stop being bogged down by deadlines, paperwork, temper tantrums, running late, dirty laundry, and all the other glamorous things that come along with being a working mother and really focus on the everyday things I often take for granted.

This morning, David buckled the girls in the car.  That sounds trivial, but last week I had to pull into a church parking lot across from our neighborhood because I had forgotten to check the bottom buckles on Reagan's five point harness car seat.  They were not buckled. This morning, that was not a problem, because my girls had extra time with their daddy while he loaded them in the car so I could fix a cup of peppermint mocha and pack leftover potato soup for lunch.  It was a double sided blessing.  My girls have a daddy who loves them and their mommy, and I had a few minutes to take inventory before loading myself up for my marathon of a day.

I dropped the girls off at daycare. A daycare where they learn, have teachers who genuinely care about them, and I feel that they are loved and nurtured. We have dropped our kids off at different places, and we've been fortunate that this has always been the case, but I have toured places where I left in tears and was convinced we'd just have to cut back on everything before I could knowingly send the girls there.  It is a huge blessing that I sometimes take for granted, but I'm so grateful for.

I drove to work, a little off pace as usual. I got behind our school crossing guard, driving to work on his bike.  This man amazes me.  He drives quite a ways on his two wheeled, self-propelled transportation, and manages to do his job with more enthusiasm than most people who arrive to work with warm buns from their heated leather seats. I'm really thankful for his waving me by each morning and keeping our kiddos safe.

When I entered the school building I was greeted with hellos from my grade level friends. I cannot imagine work without these ladies.  They share resources, jokes, and egg & cheese biscuits; we commiserate over lesson plans, family drama, and testing stress. I love my job and a lot of that is because I love these girls I get to work with.  I don't tell them enough, but I'm so incredibly blessed to have the opportunity to call them friends.

As my day progressed, I realized how grateful I am for technology.  It brings my content alive!  These kids who live in front of televisions, with tablets in hand need something a little more interesting than words on a page sometimes.  Fossils were a little more interesting with the paleontologists who discovered them, the read aloud was a little cooler with Kevin Costner reading it, and an interactive quiz made multiplication a bit more fun. Even after technology stole my planning time due to some new training, I still have an appreciation for it and how it makes my job a little easier.

By the time the car riders were dismissed, I took time to realize just how thankful I am for my job.  I get a new challenge daily, I get to experience new learning with kids and introduce new concepts.  I get to start fresh each day, hug away fears, help them make lifelong friends (I'm still friends with some of my elementary school pals), and hopefully make a lasting impression.  It's not a job, it's in the cheesiest sense, a real calling that I am so thankful I listened to.  I may have been capable of doing a job that was more lucrative, but I wouldn't have felt nearly as fulfilled.

Before I left (as quickly as possible--I'm also incredibly excited that tomorrow is a holiday), I checked my e-mail and straightened my desk. At the end of an e-mail from a parent, she closed it by saying "We are very thankful our child has you as their teacher." Words. We don't often think to be thankful for them, but sometimes a kind word is all we need to feel a little more confident and rejuvenated.  I'm really thankful for that sweet e-mail.  It hadn't been the most positive e-mail chain, but the fact that this mother, who wants what any other mother does for their child, realizes that we're on the same team is incredibly meaningful.

I made piles of to-dos for Thursday and on my desk was a note that filled every square inch of the notebook paper it was written on. It said, "Please write my name in the word problem. Love, ***" Every day the kids have 2 word problems to complete for their math journals. I write these and try to include the kids names in them.  I obviously need to include this kid's name in one.  It made me smile. Even if my students are on the big kids' hall, they are still really little. Their names in math problems are really exciting to them, and I love that!

I picked up my girls in the sunshine today!  That in itself is worth a whole Facebook post for being thankful today.  I can't remember a school year that started with so much rain.  I entered the door at the daycare, and my babies ran over to me and knocked me over with hugs. My greatest blessings in life are those two little monsters that call me mommy.  We came home, had dinner, and snuggled on the couch.  Their daddy brought their brother home and my living room has 5 pairs of feet propped up on reclining furniture. It's cozy and warm and full of so much love.  Each night at bedtime, whether I'm tucking in two or three children I call mine, I always tell them before I prayers that I thank God for them.

While I'm very cognizant of my big blessings, my family, my home, and my friends, I often forget some of these daily reasons I have to be thankful. Thanksgiving is my most favorite holiday, because it's a time where we slow down to say thanks and to be appreciative.  In a world that is fast paced, I like to take a time out to just live here and now.  Daily things that usually get lost in the shuffle shouldn't be taken for granted.

Take the time every day to be thankful for everything that you have. You can always have more, but you could also have less. — Mohd Uved

"Perfect" Family Weekend

We planned a few weeks ago that we'd take the kids to Tweetsie for the weekend.  We waited til the last minute to book somewhere to stay, because the cabin we usually stay in had a 3 day minimum stay for the holiday weekend, and we didn't want to stay 3 days, because we had to get little man back to his mom's on Sunday.  So, David booked one of the last hotel rooms in Boone, turns out it was Appalachian's first home football game of the season, just for Friday night.

Friday, I left school a little earlier than I usually would, picked up the girls and ran in Target for a few last minute items.  I had no intentions of staying longer than 15 minutes, because I was going to pick up their brother, get us home and packed, and the car cleaned out so we could leave by six.  Well, Mother Nature had other plans.  When we were about ready to leave, I hear rain pouring, thunder roaring.  We walk around to kill time, and all of a sudden the power goes out.  It was pitch black.  I grab both girls, with both arms, and even though the power came back on within seconds, it seemed like an eternity.  I made sure my phone was in my back pocket after that.  I wasn't going to be in total darkness again.    Finally, it stops raining, we get out of there, pick up Bubbie, and are home by six.  Quick shower, pack up, and we're in the car at 6:39.  A little off pace.

Anna whined all the way to the mountains.  She's not the best traveler, so we chalked it up to that.  I slept with the girls that night, the boys shared the other bed.  Anna whined all night.  It was already uncomfortable trying to make sure no one fell off the bed, add the fact we were up basically all night, it was pretty darn miserable.  I got up with her around 5:45 to use the restroom, changed her diaper to her pull up (let's not talk about how potty training is going), and went back to bed.  David got up a few minutes later, turned off the light in the room I had left on; I don't like sleeping in the dark in strange places, and went to shower.  About that time Anna started screaming and puked all over the bed.  Perfect!  I yell at Brent to grab a towel and turn the lights back on, and I get her cleaned up, thankful that I hadn't dressed her, because no pukey clothes to take home.  I moved Reagan over to the other bed and put Anna in the bath. Once I'm pretty certain she's going to be okay, she's randomly puked before if something didn't settle well on her tummy, and unfortunately from the looks of it, I could tell something hadn't settled so well, I throw on a sweatshirt and drive to the CVS for some anti-nausea medicine.  No matter what we were to decide to do, I knew it would be a necessity at this point.

Well, we wait.  We waited til 8:30 to head down to breakfast.  Over two hours, no more sickness.  Anna drank some juice, ate some yogurt, and was running around as usual. We waited a few more hours, check out was at 11; so we waited until nearly 11, and then decided that we would do the theme park.  The other two kiddos would be really disappointed if we just headed home, and Anna had been well for several hours.  We let her have another dose of medicine and off we went.  We did have a fabulous time, even if we did ask Anna if she was okay 2 million times. I rode some scary ride with Brent, we all rode the steam engine 3 times, saw the mice in Mouse Mine Number Nine, watched the girls fly airplanes and captain boats.  We ate lunch at the Feed and Seed and saw the Tweetsie Cloggers on stage.  I don't regret making those family memories at all; even if the morning had been less than fun.

We headed back to the car around 4ish, and Anna had been asleep, we woke her up, I gave her the rest of her pink lemonade, which was probably a mistake.  We drove about 7 minutes.  She started whining and looking green.  David pulled off the road into a church parking lot.  I hop out, not even taking the time to put my flip flops back on, and before I can get my hands to unbuckle Anna, she goes all Exorcist/Scary Movie projectile vomiting on me. If you've never caught vomit, I don't recommend it. I get her out. Clean her up. Again.  Throw her clothes in a pillow case. No one else moves in the car.  Not quite sure why the time was standing still for them. After we're both clean and sanitized as much as possible, and I give her another dose of medicine, we are off again. In about an hour and a half, we pull into our garage. I've never been so thankful.  I am pretty independent and able to do most anything, but move a carseat and unlatch it is something I haven't mastered.  I told David I needed to wash the carseat cover but he was going to need to get it out.  He says he'll do it.  I'd already started the water in the washing machine, so he heads out...In a freaking hazmat suit.  Okay, not really.  But he does have gloves on to his elbows and a mask on.  Remember, this is the same vomit I just caught. Whatever, I'm obviously not the hypochondriac.

Anna never got sick again.  No one else feels sick.  I'm not sure what was up with her, but it made our weekend getaway quite memorable for reasons I'd rather forget.  I think a lot of times our Facebook timelines and Instagram snapshots show a picture that looks perfect, but it is so far from the truth.  It isn't that I want people to think everything is always peachy. Life, marriage, motherhood is one hard gig.  No one wants to see the vomit, but it's there.  Our weekend was fun, but it was far from perfect. 

Take Care of Her

I think it's pretty normal to get unsolicited advice from strangers when you have children. I've always been a magnet for strangers to speak to, not sure if I just don't have an intimidating demeanor or just give off overly friendly vibes, but I'm okay with it. I've had more conversations with people I'd never met before that moment and likely will never speak to again, than I can remember. One such conversation happened yesterday, and it has resonated.

We were on our way home from a weekend in the high country, when we had to stop for a bite to eat. When a three year old cries they're hungry, you had better feed them.  At the family restaurant, many folks ordering off the senior menu were enjoying after church lunch. Reagan was on her second cup of water when she exclaimed, "Moooommmmy, I need to potty." So off to the bathroom for the second time we went.  In the restroom we made the usual small talk. Don't touch the potty, aren't those hush puppies yummy, haven't we had such a fun weekend... When we came out of the stall, we went to wash our hands beside a sweet white headed lady with a long braid, a pink dress and a smile.  She told Reagan how beautiful she was, told me how she had six children, one born every two years, and she has been married 65 years. She smiled and told me it was hard, she knows it IS hard. She then said twice, "take care of her."

You know of all the unsolicited parenting advice I've ever gotten, some of that advice from people I know and love, this piece of advice was the best. Take care of her. I thought of the past few years.  Before Reagan was even born, I had began preparations to take care of her. I saved over half my paycheck for several years. This money helped pay for unforeseen expenses. The emergency room visits prior to her birth. There was 3. All of which I was sent by my doctor's office, I swear, I was not crazy. It was just a crazy pregnancy.  I was just taking care of her.

When I brought home that seven pound bundle, I had very little knowledge of what to do, but I did my best to take care of her. I cried over painful cracked nipples, the fear I wasn't an adequate food source. I watched her sleep. Counted her breaths. Bought every stupid baby device ever invented, just to take care or her.

I returned to work five short months after she was born, because we needed health insurance, we needed my income to supplement my husband's. I needed to work to take care of her. It was hard finding someone to trust to be my hands while I was away, but we have been fortunate that amazing caregivers have grown to love our babies as their own.

I cried when I stopped producing enough milk, knowing before I even saw the positive pregnancy test results, that I was unsure of how I was going to take care of her and a new baby too. I was certain as I began to mix formula filled bottles that I wasn't doing my best to take care of her. Looking back, I was doing what was right for our family in that moment. I was taking care of her.

I've held her hands as she began to take her first steps, I've reminded her we don't write from right to left, I've made sure she brushes her teeth, combs her hair, eats at least 4 different food groups, assured her there are no monsters, and told her daily how I thank God for her, just her. I know there will be times in the future it will be a challenge to just take care of her, but I'm so thankful for that sweet lady's advice. There is nothing more, and nothing less I can do as a parent other than to simply take care of her.

Type A...Type B...Please.

If I were assessing my younger self, I would have probably declared my Type A personality without actually having to declare it.  I was kinda full of myself.  Used to being the center of attention in my own family, used to being one of the handful of "smartest" children in my class, and used to having more than enough words to dominate almost any conversation.  Having Reagan, didn't change that.  I worried about  and planned every single detail of her life week by week.  When I found out I was pregnant with her sister when she was almost 24 weeks old (six months...remember, I worried WEEK BY WEEK), I freaked out to say the least.  It wasn't that I didn't want another baby, because I wanted another baby more than anything, I just didn't want another baby when my baby was still a baby.

So, after Anna was born, my aggressive personality, to put it nicely, took a backseat to parenting.  I realized very quickly, that the cute smocked outfits were just going to get yellow poop all up the back, so why not just dress the kid in a cheap cotton Target onesie with some cute saying like "My mom doesn't want your advice.." because really, she did not want or need it.  Always eager to please, but to sway folks to seeing my way, I quickly learned that my way of life wasn't for everyone.  I wasn't going to force breastfeeding and cosleeping on my new mother peers, though I couldn't imagine doing this mommy-hood gig any other way.  Other mommies didn't want or need my advice either!

My former self had a pet peeve about promptness.  My current self is happy to get anywhere within an hour of the scheduled time.  I'm almost disgusted by this fact still, but we really cannot help it.  Have you ever tried to get two small {girl} children ready?  I have one that changes clothes like the weather.  Seriously.  I'll have her ready, and I'll go to check on her sister and come back and find her completely naked.  It's a losing battle.

I still make calendars and create schedules, but if we don't follow them...Eh, it's okay.  As long as no one is crying, fighting nap time, or biting each other, I really could care less if we visited the Historical Museum, attended the concert in the park, or watched the magic show at the library.  No use crying over the best laid plans that don't happen. 

Truthfully this switch has probably made me a better person all the way around.  I'm completely happy in my own skin, even if I'm not as blonde, thin or tan as I once was.  I'm way more content these days than I ever was when I was trying to be perfect all the time.  I still have a strong desire to pursue fairness and do what's best.  That's awesome in my classroom. But also, understanding that going with the flow is a necessity, and being able to adapt to most any situation without becoming too bummed out, has proven to be even more helpful.  

I wouldn't say my type A self is gone, and I wouldn't say I'm totally a type B either.  I'm just a happy in-between.  I don't forsee me ever going back to being as quite extreme as I used to be, but I'm not going to throw out my summer calendar ever.  I'm so grateful for my girls for a billion reasons and the least of those is help change me into a person that's a little sweeter, and little more relaxed and way more fun!

Before the Madness

Embracing the Chaos

These are MY kids too

As the school year comes to a close, I realized how sad I am for the year to end.  Year eight almost in the books, and though I'm spread thinner (I'm not thinner though...), I still feel that same attachment and love I did for my first group of students.  I've changed schools, more than once; I've changed grade levels, more than once, but one thing remains the same: I absolutely have the best job ever.  Sure, I have bad days.  I've had a desk thrown at me, hateful e-mails in my inbox, ridiculous evaluations that knit-picked the fact that I was a pumping mother over the fact "the content was covered very well." Those days I went home and cried, but luckily I have had way more good days inside the four walls of my classroom than bad.

Today I went home and cried for a completely different reason.  At dismissal today, my last bus rider was waiting for her bus to be called, like all nearly 180 days this year, but this day was different.  She happily told me earlier this week with a flip of her blonde hair that she wouldn't be attending the last day of school.  This day was her last day of fourth grade.  She stood in the door frame looking much more grown up than she did in August and looking at her sweet face, I saw her eyes swell up with tears. I hugged her and tried not to cry too.  She just smiled stared at our class picture hanging by the door.  We joked about the silly smiles on the friends' faces in the class. She laughed and cried more.  Her bus was announced, I gave her another big hug, gave her that class picture and told her to have a great summer. These 28 kids that sat in room 318 this year will no longer be a class after tomorrow.  They will move up to fifth and be combined into different homerooms.  The kids will have the same friends and see familiar faces when they return in the fall, but it won't be quite the same.

I had the kids make memory wheels and complete fourth grade surveys to share with next year's class.  I'll put them on display in the hallway at Open House.  When I read the kids' work, I noticed a lot of the kids filled in the My teacher really loves... blank with her kids.  I do tell tons of stories about Brent, Reagan and Anna, I swear some of them are content related, and I guess my students really take away that I love being a mommy.  But from August to June, I spend a whole lot of time with other people's kids.  I spend time away from those children, worrying about them.  Sometimes it's "will they ever understand how to do long division?" Sometimes it's "this friend was really worried about a home situation, I pray they are okay and it resolves soon..."

The other day in the midst of a speech about caring for others, this time of year kids have short tempers with each other, I went around the room sharing things I've learned about the kids this year.  Little things from the name of their little league team, that their family fosters pets from the animal shelter, that they love fishing with their grandpa, they have a collection of rocks.... You get the idea.  They were amazed that I remembered little details of things they had mentioned all year.  I am always amazed that they remember my silly stories about my kids too.  We, our class, invested so much time in each other, together this year.  We're like a big family. It really is hard to see that fun time end.

No matter how many years I teach, no matter how many kids I get to raise in my own home, those children that fill my classroom each year become mine too. As I go to work tomorrow, I'm sure I'll feel a bit of the same way my little friend did in the doorway this afternoon.  As excited as I have been about summer break, I'm not excited about the good bye that awaits tomorrow at 2:50. These are my kids too.