HINDSIGHT

Currently, we are in the annual season of announcements, endings and new beginnings, well wishes and pining over memories. While I have what I believe to be a good deal of personal experience in this annual tradition, I am struggling with this years festivities. This season of this particular year is one I have been secretly dreading. While I know that is all ok and very much the order of things , I'm still not quite ready.

I think I've written about having given birth to and raising four kids, staying married to one guy for several decades and being a stay-at-home mom for over 30 years now. (If I haven't written about it, then I need to get busy) My pregnancies and births were really no more spectacular than anyone else's stories. My older three kids have all grown into decent, good, upstanding adults, family members, workers and citizens. My youngest kid seems to be on that same path. My husband is still my husband and we still love each other. And, as of now, I am still a stay-at-home mom and have worn that title with pride for quite some time.

Given those premises, I'd like to think I know a thing or two. I know that having babies usually gets easier. I know that babies and kids all go through stages. I know that raising kids is really hard. I know that all marriages go through ups and downs--some go through more downs than others. I know that families are complicated. I know that moms and dads usually do things differently. I know that as you age you gain more wisdom and I also know that hindsight really is 20/20.

Hindsight tells me that most of the time everything is going to work out ok. Hindsight tells me that, for the most part, I've done my job properly. Hindsight tells me that I will always have new and different experiences to enjoy as I make my way through life. Hindsight tells me that some friends will stay, some will go, but my family will always be here. Hindsight tells me that even with family, I'm still required to reach out, give and be available in order to keep those family ties strong. Hindsight tells me that the love I had for my newborn babies grows into just as strong a love for them as adults. And hindsight tells me that no matter how much I know from hindsight I don't get to escape all the realities of the here and now.

Right now the here and now is graduation week for our youngest child, the daughter who has been our bonus child, the one who taught me that having ten kids would have been a blast. (you have to tip the scale over to four kids before you really "get" that!) I've seen a ton of social media tributes that parents are doing for their seniors. I keep thinking I need to do the same. But I just can't. Don't get me wrong...I'm super super proud of this girl! She is amazing and truly spectacular. But I've got to be honest in saying that while hindsight tells me I have a ton of cool stuff to look forward to with her in the next few years, right now I'm just not happy. Right now I'm sad. I can and will put on the happy face. I can smile and talk about her plans, our plans and admit to excitement over all that. But the fact is that right now, for my immediate future, I know what hindsight has taught me. Hindsight has taught me that I am going to really miss this girl.

I'm going to miss her like crazy....c. r. a. z. y.

Everyone's known that.  Everyone's mentioned or talked about it. I've tried to talk about it but I mostly cut those conversations short due to the lump that forms in my throat. I'm pretty sure my older kids fear that one day they may find me curled up in a ball rocking back and forth sobbing. That won't happen. Hindsight tells me I'll be ok, everything will be ok. But hindsight still doesn't take away the heart and the soul and the feelings we have for the people we love.

Instead of curling up in a ball, what may happen (or may have already happened) is finding myself softly crying in the shower as I think about her not being here. Or, me tearing up at the memories of the sheer joy of our little family when we brought this sweet girl home from the hospital or the memory of all her "performances" for us, or her unabashed pride in wearing her headgear at night when her siblings friends were over, or her last-ditch efforts to swim hard enough to make state or bring a grade up from a B to an A. I may feel sad when 5:00 PM comes around and no one is here saying "I'm taking my shower now"...every. day. at. 5 PM! I may miss watching her contain her excitement at the next Harry Potter news or Guardians of the Galaxy movie. I will definitely miss hearing that laugh--that outstanding, cheerful, full of life laugh--at an old episode of The Office or Friends, or a silly meme someone just posted, or something stupid either of her parents may have said or done, or enjoying being with her friends and listening to their funny stories. I will miss knowing the kindness she shows to her friends--I'll miss seeing her give a hug to a friend who's sad about a crummy swim time, or watching her encourage a friend who is facing a struggle or hearing about her cheering up a girlfriend who's boyfriend hasn't been so nice. I will miss that click-click sound she makes each morning calling her dog downstairs or that same sound at night when she calls her dog upstairs to go to bed with her. I will miss her willingness to be a part of my life even if it means Baskin Robbins instead of Braums, or mexican instead of chinese, a musical instead of a sci-fi movie.

One of the most interesting things I've heard this past year was while talking with someone who asked how I felt about my daughters upcoming graduation--she said very matter-of-factly "well, you two are pretty close". What? We are? How can we be that close...I'm just the mom? But when another one of my children agreed I had to choke back tears. Yes. Yes, we are...or at least I am. And, maybe in her own, last-kid-of-four-remaining-at-the-house way, she may feel the same as well.

So, while it may seem that I have depended on this kid for a great deal of companionship over the last several years and that I am now faced with redefining my Stay-At-Home mom title to mean something geared more toward my own future, I also couldn't be more excited to see what this incredibly special young woman does over the next several years ahead. I can't wait to meet the people she befriends. I can't wait for her to bring new friends home to hang out for the weekend or go to a concert or come for Thanksgiving dinner. I can't wait to watch what interests she develops, what things get her excited. I can't wait to hear her tell stories of her adventures and experiences. I can't wait for  that first time she calls excited about an accomplishment. And yes, I already can't wait for her weekend visits back home that I already know will pass all too quickly. Hindsight tells me that I will sit on the porch swing and wave good bye to her, wait for her to leave and spend a few minutes wiping my own tears away.

But hindsight tells me, if I'm lucky, she'll be back.

Anne, I love you infinity times a million 💞

Photo Credit:  Buona Sarah Photography







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NERVES

Nerves: firmness or courage under trying circumstances: an assignment requiring nerve; strength, vigor, or energy: a test of nerve and stamina; nerves, nervousness: an attack of nerves.

Basically nerves can be tested when one is "brave" and again when one is "chicken". One would think a child would be the latter and an adult the former; not so much the case in my house today. Can I just say--I have the most ridiculously all-around great kids ever. Yes, they drive me in sane at times, try my patience, frustrate the heck out of me...but all in all they are really quite extraordinary. Today, one in particular showed remarkable composure and confidence. Who knew at 12 you could act like THAT?!

Today, Tuesday, January 4, 2011 my 12 year old daughter did one of the things that I have always felt was one of the single most difficult acts for a child to make--the act of trust. Not for all children mind you, and certainly not for younger children. They will trust you if you tell them the bug they just caught is very yummy. But for a 12 1/2 year old girl, who's had three older siblings, been immersed in adult conversation and lifestyle and has a pretty sharp brain, sometimes "trust" is a difficult thing.

A bit of history before I continue: My oldest child started formal public school in 1991. Kindergarten. We were in a terrible school district and decided it was imperative that we move before our children grew much older. Mid-school year in November of 1992 we did just that. We took our oldest son out of the environment he was familiar with and plopped him in a setting that we promised him would be far more advantageous for his life-long goals. He was 7 years old. A wise 7, but nonetheless still only 7. Christmas break came around in our new neighborhood. By then he had a 3-year old sister and a new baby brother, both whom he adored. We had a wonderful Christmas break in our new home and enjoyed each other's company to the fullest. Break was over, time for school to start up again.

The night before school was set to begin, while pressing that perfect crease in my 7-year old son's blue and white striped train engineer OshKosh overalls, he came into the room and announced that he didn't want to return to THAT school the next day. What? This was my child who LOVED school. This was the boy that LOVED learning. This could not be happening. There must be something else...

"What do you mean you don't want to go back to school?"

"I don't want to go to that school tomorrow"

"Why?"

"I don't like it at all. It's terrible"

"What makes it terrible?"

"Everything. The kids and the teacher and everything"

"Well, you are going to have to be a bit more specific for me to understand"

"The kids stand on the desks in the back and talk and are distracting. The teacher yells and gets upset. I can't concentrate to do my work and it's not fun and I don't like all the yelling"

(Thinking to myself that he had some very well-warranted points here, I was at a loss as to which "parent" card out of my hand should be played next...)

"Well, you know you can't just not go to school. They throw you in jail for that"

"They do?"

(Trust in my position on education was pivotal at this point as I could hear the teetering in his question--he could be tipped on either side of the proverbial "education is imperative" fence)

"Well, yeah. Or maybe they just throw me in jail for not sending you to school. But someone goes to jail"

At this point "nerve" came in to this picture. My 7 year old wanted to have nerve, he wanted to be brave. What he really wanted was to enjoy school again. He was (and continues to be!) a really bright kid. And, deep down he knew not to buy this "jail card" thing from mom...not one bit. I could see the doubt in his belief that there would soon be any of our grim faces printed on "WANTED" posters around town. But I could also see his defeat and his last bit of "please don't let me go down like this" braveness start to expel out of him as his eyes welled up with tears.

"Now wait a minute here"

"what?"

"I think we can work this out"

"how?"

"Well, it sounds like I need to go in and talk to the teacher or the principal if there is so much disruption in your classroom that you can't think in first grade"

"I don't want to get in trouble"

"You will not get in trouble"

"How do you know?"

"I know because if you get in trouble for doing what's right, someone else is going to get in trouble for doing what's wrong"

"by who?"

"By me"

"Really?"

"Really."

NOW we had re-established the Trust, some Nerve...some Real Nerve. Now even HE knew he could count on action. He hadn't lived with me for 7 long years for nothing.

So I did what I said I would do. And things worked out. And 12 years later he graduated from that same school system as an Honor Student with great promise ahead of him.

In the meantime, he'd acquired yet another baby sister. For some perspective: On the morning we left to take that then 19-yr old son to his first year of out-of-state college, we first made a quick stop to drop off his "new" baby sister for her first day of kindergarten. That sister grew up with three older siblings all with the same last name, all from the same house and neighborhood, and all with great diligence, attitude and pride that helped them make their way and forge a path through this particular public school system. So, like her siblings before her, in the Summer of 2004, she was set on a course to do the same...at the same place and with all the people she'd grown up knowing and who knew her and her family as well. She would become a Union Redskin.

Things change though. People change. Circumstances change. School systems change. Priorities change. My 12 year old daughter got caught in the middle of many of those changes.

Fortunately my 12 year old daughter is also the one child of our four who is most "flexible". She has always been on the flexi-plan at our house, being dragged from one event to another. Counting on one thing to happen and then changing courses for a new and different plan. She is hailed as the easy going child in the family. Nerves, braveness and trust being her unknowingly strong traits that keep her nature so easy...most of the time.

However, when a young girl is confident because she's been told over and over by all her family, all her friends, all the people who know her and her family (and even many who don't) how great and smart and wonderful she is, she never really gets to test that confidence. Today her confidence was tested and perhaps in a way that was quite startling not only to her, but to me as well.

Over the last couple years we'd decided that the school system all of our kids had attended all these years was no longer meeting our standards. Our 12 year old, being the bonus baby in the family, would soon be hitting some important educational years and this was not where she would benefit most. Slowly, plans were put into place to make a change. She was made aware of the long-term plan and was aware that, like always, even that could change. And it did--quite suddenly. In the middle of her 6th grade year, an opportunity was presented to us and a quick decision had to be made. We decided to move. Move to another neighborhood and move to another school. She would no longer be a Union Redskin.

I did my best to prepare her for the changes she would soon face. We went and visited the new school. We talked with people who went there. We drove around the neighborhood. We researched available opportunities the new school system provided. We purchased new Bixby Spartan wear. It all seemed exciting and she knew it would be difficult to leave her friends, but she seemed open to new experiences as well. She would be facing some of the same challenges her older brother had. She would have to adjust to new routines, new friends, new teachers and new ways of doing things. She would be fine.

Thinking about change, considering change, but then having it slap you right smack in the face in a matter of a few seconds are two different things.

Today was the first day for her to attend her new school. Clearly, I was the more nervous of the two of us. We had gone through all the paperwork hoops appropriately, we had purchased the necessary supplies, checked into lunch routines and knew about "going back" to a school that provided recess time again. What we hadn't done, is talk and think and imagine that one moment in time when a door would be opened for her, she would be nudged through that doorway, into a room of twenty-two 12 year old strangers with forty-four eyes looking right at you wondering who the heck the "new girl" was...while your mom stood in the hallway behind you with a sick little "mom smile" on her face. You know--the kind of smile that says, "oh my God, I can't believe I am standing here watching you go through this". The kind of smile that really means, "no, no come back here---we'll figure something else out". The kind of smile that says, "let me go in there and be stared at. You stay here." The kind of smile that says, "Dear God, please let them be kind to her, please let them love her like I do, please let them instantly know what a magnificent girl she is". That kind of smile.

She really was quite literally shoved into Mr. So and So's room in the middle of a sentence the counselor was speaking to us while we were touring what would soon be my 12 year old's new "hallway". The counselor quickly opened the door, introduced Mr. So and So to her and pushed her in. No "bye". No "see you after school". No "your day will be great". And as I stood there I saw what my 12 year old saw. I saw all those strange faces looking at her/me wondering... I saw her face go flush with redness. I sensed her hesitation. I saw her look to the new Mr. So and So teacher for seating direction. I saw her nerve wane. I saw her braveness be tested. I felt her trust teeter. And I turned and walked away unable to stop my tears while the counselor assured me she'd be alright, even though it's hard the first day or so.

All the way home I cried. I wanted to know if we'd done the right thing. I wanted to know if she would be ok. I wanted to know if she would hate the new school. I wanted to know if she would eventually declare her resistance like her older brother. What I really wanted was for her to still be little. What I really wanted was for her to be able to stay with me. What I really wanted was for her to not have to have nerves or be brave or trust. What I really wanted was for me to have nerve, and to be brave and to trust.

She did an incredible job today. I will never, ever forget that moment. I will never, ever forget that vision of exactly where she was standing and exactly what her face looked like and exactly how uncomfortable, and scared and helpless she felt. I will never forget feeling those same feelings right along with her ten times over that very moment.

I'm nineteen years older than I was when my 7 year old son learned he could count on the fact that I would always act on his behalf. I would always be there to encourage him to trust, to be brave and to have nerve. Nineteen years later, my 12-year old daughter somehow knew that she could count on the fact that I would always act on her behalf. She knew I would encourage her to trust, to be brave and to have nerve.

But I am so thankful she didn't turn around and see me or tell me bye before entering that classroom today.

Because she would have seen a mom who had doubt and fear and was a big "chicken". She would have seen me scurry down the hallway into the stairwell in tears. And she would have seen and likely not understood that I was counting on her action this time.

Today, at that moment that daughter became my encouragement and my most shining example for how I should trust, and be brave and and have nerve...like my most amazing 12-year old.

Now THIS is EXCITEMENT

I wasn't "allowed" to divulge my exciting news. It happened May 17th. It was a nice and pleasant evening when all the sudden the phone rang...and who could it be but my oldest daughter...and what on earth did she have to tell us other than that she was now formally, officially ENGAGED! We weren't even allowed to divulge said information to family members for an entire week so that the newly engaged couple could come tell everyone in person. Do you have any idea how underwhelmed the electrician, nail tech and landscape guy were with my exciting secret?

We couldn't be more happy for her. Of course we had a bit of a head's up on this one since her nearly perfect now-fiance had come to our house a mere two weeks ago (which seemed more like two months to me!) to ask her father's blessing that he be allowed to ask her to marry him. How totally wonderful is that? I wanted to say "sweet", but "sweet" is just not it. "Sweet" is not serious and committed enough. "Sweet" is just cute. This was wonderful, this was responsible, this was, and is serious business. This is the kind of wonderful, marvelous business that makes a mom cry--tears of happiness, tears of joy, and yes, a few bittersweet tears of days gone by.

It's interesting. Do I think these kids of mine are going to morph back into their toddler years again so that I can relive and re"do" any of those mistakes I may have made? Is it possible that if life did not move forward for them, that I could somehow stop, or even better-reverse time to live those forgotten, unappreciated moments that escaped me? I think that's where the tears come from. They are happy tears. Happy for her. Happy for her happiness. Happy for her determination to make the right choices. But there is a twinge of sadness, of wishing I could go back, stop time, make everything slow down. Had I just known. Had I listened to all those old people who told me that very thing. Had I understood how quickly it would all make sense. Well, coulda, shoulda, woulda's always leave you hanging with that not-quite-finished feeling, but that's life.

Anyhow since the announcement of said engagement I have succeeded in bringing her to tears only once (that I know of and accept responsibility for). We all knew it was coming. We all knew "mom would eventually screw up this happy time" and far be it from me to let everyone down. I did have to have the "are-you-sure-you-MUST-have-this-wedding-only-a-mere-three-weeks-or-so-after-not-one-but-TWO-graduations-and-during-the-most-expensive-oops-i-mean-popular-time-of-year?" talk with both her and her fiance. I gotta say, this guy she's picked is good...he is very, very good! Upon the onset of tears I, of course, felt very guilty (yes, really I did). He sat very composed, listened carefully to my reasoning, nodded his head all the while patting my lovely daughter's leg. When I realized I had nearly reached full "lose 'em" potential, I quickly suggested that the subject be changed, they think about what I had said and we go inside and talk about fun wedding stuff.

Within 48 hours she called and they had thought about it and no, did not want to change their date. OK...alrighty...mom is going to have a little breakdown during her eldest daughters most precious moment in life to date...great...this is great. Quickly, I pulled myself together and thought NO--YOU ARE NOT! You are MOM, you CAN and, more importantly, you WILL do this! You will overcome for the greater good! You will formulate a plan, move into action, you will CONQUER! And with the confidence of a great leader, KAMINSKI-BIDDICK WEDDING TWO THOUSAND AND TEN, kicked into high gear!

To date we have: Secured ceremony venue (our church of course); Met with ceremony planner; Secured reception venue; Met with and secured caterer, baker, photographer, music & chair-bow vendor (a seemingly meaningless, but ever so important detail); Had first round of engagement pictures taken; Composed guest list; Chosen Save-a-Date announcements (ready to be rolled off the press); Decided upon invitations (ready to be rolled off the press); Designed and posted wedding website; Submitted engagement announcement for local newspaper; Purchased miscellaneous favors and bridesmaids gifts; Chosen bridesmaids dresses; hosted a small engagement party; and said YES TO THE DRESS, measured, ordered and paid for!

I can go into immense detail on these fun activities (and I won't unless begged to do so), but suffice it to say the wedding industry is NOT caught up in the economic downturn folks...not! Regardless, the process has been relatively pain-free--no, that is not true, it has been TOTALLY pain-free. I think to both of our surprise and amazement, Sam and I have had the best time doing this together. I cannot really think of anything much more "bonding" than participating in and preparing with your daughter for her most important journey...away from her parents. As mentioned earlier, a very bittersweet and sometimes surreal experience for me, "the mom", but one I wouldn't trade for anything. I am lucky to have an extremely level-headed daughter who has chosen the most magnificent guy on planet earth. Truly, all you girls out there, take lessons from this girl--she calculated cleverly and waited patiently and hit the husband-to-be jackpot! (I have that little fluttery happy feeling just typing that!)

Now having said all that "he's a great guy" stuff. We are embarking on a journey here very soon that will be the most telling of all....Biddick Family Vacation (think Griswolds), complete with all family members packed into the burb for a 14 hour road trip to the beach. THIS will be a true test of said "great guy's" stamina, patience, sense of humor and bladder control. More to come later.