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.

There's this Woman I Know

There's this woman I know who is ....


Amazing, wonderful, awesome, fantastic, outstanding, super...??? No, not really. We hear those words all the time. Honestly...do we really pay attention to those superlatives? I think not.

This woman is interesting. She is smart. She is kind. She is hysterical. She has thousands of children. She has no children. She is respected. She is tough. She is tender. She is unique. She is clever. She is sneaky. She is good-hearted. She is wise. She is active. She is tired. She is tenacious. She is unwavering. She is fair. She is a wife. She is a daughter. She is an aunt. She is a boss. She is an employee. She is a leader. She is memorable. This woman is a principal.

Being an elementary school principal is a special job in it's own right. But take an extraordinary person and put them in that job and you have something beyond simply "special". You have kids and parents who feel secure. You have kids and parents who learn. You have ingenious solutions to seemingly unsolvable problems. You have kids who learn to lead by example. You have an advocate insistent on the very best for ALL "her kids". You have kids learning to be ambassadors of good stewardship, honesty, integrity, intellect, kindness. You have parents and kids learning to cooperate in order to achieve goals. You have fun times and fond memories. You have nothing short of a host of angels helping to lift you and your child up to the highest levels of success. And when there are failures, disappointments or struggles, you have a shoulder upon which you and your child may cry. You have an advisor, a coach, a counselor and sometimes a referee.

This woman is the only elementary principal my children have ever known. For some kids she is their principal for all years, for others only part of a single year. But every year, this woman knows every childs name...not by the end of the year...by the beginning of the year. She knows their strengths, she knows their weaknesses. She knows their parents. She knows where they are from. She knows each and every child's "story". She knows your child and she knows mine.

And throughout the last nineteen years, this woman I know has become an integral, important, meaningful part of our family's story...more importantly, this woman, she is our friend.
Thank you Patti.

BLACK NAVIGATOR LADY

First of all, please know that this is simply a venting…I have read the newsletter pleas, etc., etc., and I know there truly is nothing you guys haven’t done already to encourage parents to drop their kids off in an appropriate “driving” manner!

Ok, so I decided it would be a “good idea” to take Anne to school today instead of riding the bus…

What on earth was I thinking?

I have never seen such crappy displays of A. rude driving behavior, or B. idiotic, ignorance behind some very nice vehicles, or C. just s**t-heads for adults/parents. (did I mention that I wanted to vent…and not in such a “PC” manner?)

I’m pulling up to Jarman from the east since we’d dropped off some stuff at a friend’s house this morning. I get in the little drop-off-your-kid-at-the-curb car line on the right side of the road and pretty soon this big-ass black truck drives by on my left. I think, no problem…the guy needs to get through to Memorial…he’s off to work. (clearly he’s late, but he’s off to work nonetheless). But no…he pulls around the cars in line into the parking lot. “No problem”, I say to myself. Surely he’s pulling into the parking area. Nope, not that either, he pulls around and cuts off a car about six cars in front of me in the drop-off-your-kid-at-the-curb car line and goes about his merry way taking his precious child up to the little drop-off-your-kid-at-the-curb car line in a very rude, but expedient fashion. Ok, maybe I would have wanted to get that kid dropped off faster too.

Anne is yelling, “HEY…HE’S NOT SUPPOSED TO DO THAT”! Well, Anne he’s probably in a hurry and let’s just let it go.

About that time, Black Navigator Lady pulls up to my left. Again I am naïve enough to think, “well she just needs on through here, but I’m not pulling over because I’m only about three or four car lengths from being able to turn into this god-forsaken parking lot and she can get through the middle to get past on her way to her ever-important job that helps her afford this nice big shiny Black Navigator”. So I stay my course in my scratched up silvery gray land yacht. As she inches through, it becomes painfully clear that she is, in fact not inching through, but instead inching (and more like lurching) into my silvery gray land yacht. Now, I realize that at one time I thought I had the fanciest car in south Tulsa. I had moved up from a blue Dodge Caravan with 158,000 miles on it to a Eggplant Purple Suburban extra long model, to now the ever-sporty silvery gray Suburban XLT with 4WD. Did Black Navigator Lady not know this? Did she not see me? Well of course Black Navigator Lady saw me…how could you not—I’m in the land yacht for pete’s sake!

Black Navigator Lady has no turn signal on indicating that this is the very first day she’s ever done this and “oops” she’s made a mistake and just missed the fact that there were eight or nine cars in the little drop-off-your-kid-at-the-curb car line and now she’s stuck and really, really sorry and could we please let her and her nice big shiny Black Navigator in to the drop-off-your-kid-at-the-curb car line now. Nope, by gosh, Black Navigator Lady has done this all intentionally and does not mind one bit if she hits the front driver’s side of my silvery gray land yacht. This is the point at which things take a turn in the silvery gray land yacht of mine. Anne is yelling, “HEY…THERE’S ANOTHER ONE…THEY ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO DO THAT”! And, I, being of sound mind and having a few years of driving/parental/adult/good-decision-making experience under my belt calmly say, “nope she’s not” as I pull forward in an attempt to signal to Black Navigator Lady to move on down the road with her nice big shiny Black Navigator. Just as I pull forward, Black Navigator Lady makes a nice angular move in front of me all the while blocking all the traffic that truly is trying to get east and west on the through street.

At the first possible moment she can, Black Navigator Lady whips in front of my tiny little silvery gray land yacht with her kid bouncing around unbelted. We all stop and I am about 5 seconds from getting out of my car and “politely” walking up to tap on Black Navigator Lady’s window and explain to her how this whole system works. Instead I choose a nice little horn honk. That didn’t seem to make me feel better so I ever-so-quietly murmured the phrase, “bitch” under my breath. Clearly not low enough as my 11-yr old daughter’s head swung my direction. I acted as if I hadn’t heard a thing and in a minute or so simply said, “honey, would you see if you know who gets out of that nice big shiny black car in front of us?”. “yeah, sure…pull up some more mom”. Uh-huh…and exactly what do I think I’m going to do with THAT information??? Hunt the little girl down who hops out of the nice big shiny Black Navigator? Find out who her moron parents are so I can go give them a piece of my mind? Keying the nice big shiny Black Navigator did cross my mind.

Instead, I hurried Little Anne out of the car at the drop-off-your-kid-at-the-curb car line several car lengths from the door (another thing…do these parents think that the kids can’t walk a whole three car lengths to the door without dying before they get inside?). I said, “have a great day…love you”, pulled out of the drop-off-your-kid-at-the-curb car line, pulled up by nice big shiny Black Navigator Lady, watched her bouncy, dressed in pink, fluffy black-haired daughter get out of Black Navigator Lady’s car, and when Black Navigator Lady finally wondered who the schmuck was sitting next to her in the scratched up silvery gray land yacht she nearly hit, I scowled at her and her nice big shiny Black Navigator and drove off.

Next year can I get a part-time job directing traffic out there in one of those fluorescent vests? And, I liked to be carrying a large visible weapon while I pleasantly direct all those impatient, morally bankrupt, egotistical, self-centered, idiotic, rude drivers who attempt to cut in front of a whole line of patient car drivers at the drop-your-kid-off-at-the-curb car line, to the back of the line or else I blow their tires out with my handy dandy weapon. Is that too harsh for the district? I’m thinking the kids would love seeing the old lady with the bright vest taking on little "Ashley’s" mom who never, ever waits her turn…just like little Ashley.

For now, I guess I’ll go take it out on that stupid, condescending Wii Fit “trainer”.

Venting over…thanks.

Lay down with me five more minutes...

These are the words that melted my heart tonight. These are the words that make me know what I am here for. These are the words that send me right back to an eleven year old girl to scoop her up in my arms and tell her--again--how much I love her. These are the words that not so long ago seemed a bit inconvenient at times...how could I have been so wrong.

WARNING: If you couldn't tell--Sappy Post Follows!

I just finished putting a child to bed. A precious little eleven year old girl who was the best surprise of my and my family's life, a girl who still seems so tiny to me and yet it's as if I am watching her grow every minute of every day at a pace that makes me want to scream for time to stop, a girl who is oblivious to anything but the very best the world around her offers, a girl who, for some inexplicable reason and without her knowing it, has taught me the value of being a mom.

Like I said, there was a time when hearing "Please lay down with me five more minutes mom..." resulted in me thinking things along the lines of, "oh my gosh, I have got to get that laundry off my bed...when am I ever going to get the rest of the bills paid...those dishes are never going to get done...if I lay down for five minutes I will be the one falling asleep."

Not any more. I'd take everyone of those times back now if I could. It's not to say that I now have undying attentiveness toward my children at every waking moment. Anyone who knows me knows that to not be the case. However, I would bet a kid or two on the fact that anyone who has known me for very long would also say I am not the same mom I was thirteen years ago when my oldest child was eleven. I may not even be as attentive as often as I was with my other children. BUT my attentiveness is finely tuned, sharpened to a fault and hones in on far fewer trivialities than in the past. Now let's get something straight right now--I deeply love each and every one of my children equally and in a way that only a parent can know...yes, I would stand in front of a moving train for any one of them...well....yeah...I think I would do that. Anyhow, from here on out it goes without saying that I do not love one child more than any other, nor do I value one's existence more than any other. However, with every child, and with every year of motherhood comes more and more enlightenment.

Enlightenment for me tonight was thinking about tonight being next year's tonight, when "my baby" would be entering a school of a thousand strangers. I mentioned that to her (not the "stranger" part, for pete's sake!) and she shared her hesitation; it being a little "scary". I assured her it wouldn't be (at least not nearly as much as it would be for her mother this time next year!), and that I shouldn't have even brought it up because tomorrow she would be Top Dog at her elementary! How exciting. How comforting. How...sad.

Yep, this is a downer, but I got so sad thinking about this next year being (another) last for me. We will have been in attendance at Jarman Elementary for eighteen years. Yes, eighteen years. OK, if I must be totally honest, our family was not represented one of those eighteen years. Only one, the other seventeeen we had full representation of at least one child and sometimes two. Seventeen Meet the Teacher days, seventeen Back To School Nights, seventeen PTA sign-ups, seventeen volunteer forms, seventeen First Days of School and seventeen Last Days of School. Not to mention all the other activities year in and year out over this span of time. As much as I have teased about it, it has been one of the most rewarding, fullfilling experiences of my life, and certainly my kids' lives. So the thought of this being the last year made me cry.

I don't want all my kids to be out there in the big, fat, scary world. I don't want to be looked at funny when I bring their lunch up to the school for the sixth time even though I've told them I will never do that again. I don't want to be a parent of a student ID#. I don't want them to learn about sex, drugs and rock and roll. (ok, we have already had some of those discussions, but in Leave It To Beaver land here it is a bit different than the Land of Reality coming up). I don't want this to be the end of these wonderful, wonderful times.

For all you who know me well enough to know how sappy this all is---you'd better watch out for me...Good Lord, I even mentioned homeschooling! I mean, can you imagine??! When my other kids would start complaining about their school, or the classes or the teachers, that was all I had to say..."well, you knowwwww, I could always homeschool you". I'd say it in the sincerest tone with all the motherly compassion I could possibly muster up. "Uh, nope...no thanks...it will be fine...uh, I can work this out...really...no problem mom, don't worry about it...really". Yep, that's all it would take.

Well guess what...guess who said, "you know, I might want to do that next year mom"! Most amazing part was I thought "oh thank goodness, there's just got to be some good homeschooling websites...maybe even a facebook group".

Alrighty, so clearly this isn't so much about her. It's about me.

It's about the great (and often not-so-great) life of Mom-dom. The ups, the downs, the unepected curve balls. It's about the most valuable and noble and honest and gut-wrenching and spectacular "profession" in the world. Some would say I need a life. I strongly disagree. I have such a full and blessed life that I can't imagine filling it with anything else. That's the problem...I can't imagine. I can't imagine filling it with different things.. I can't imagine what it will be like not walking into that elementary next year and seeing those familiar (seasoned) friendly faces, not getting to know the less familiar (youthful) but equally friendly "newbies", not having my daughter at a school where everyone knows her, knows who she is and what she's like.

You know what it is, it's that I simply can't imagine what The Plan is. That's what this boils down to. I guess a lot of it really isn't my call. I mean, what's He cooking up for me...or us? I know He's not cruel; I know He's got a sense of humor; and I know He's got a plan. I try and do the right thing, I try and think about how things will effect these kids of mine, I think I'm on the right track most times. I guess the "not knowing for sure" part is the part that's supposed to make it all more exciting--make us try and do our very best. However, instead, I find myself looking back and thinking how much I've learned, how many "if I knew then, what I know now"s I have, how valuable my job has really been and how serious a job it is.

But right now I'm just wallowing in the bittersweet moments of this "final" year. I'm hoping that eleven year old girl will ask me to lay down with her five more minutes this time next year too.

Mr. Crabs Isn't Going to Make It Much Longer

This is what I have to tell my 10-yr old today. I was commissioned this morning to change Mr. Crabs water (which I did, nearly forgetting Mr. Crabs is a salt-water lover which entails adding a dechlorination solution and salt crystals) and "maybe try and clean out his sand". Well the latter was much more difficult than anticipated and after observing Mr. Crabs behavior, I came to the "mom conclusion" that mixing the sand up thereby burying the icky stuff to the bottom, would be sufficient for what I think will be Mr. Crabs last few days of living on this earth.

Now, I know that many a parent has performed these same duties for their young sons and daughters. And I know that many a child has beemed with joy as mine did lugging their crab, their frog, their tadpole home from their loving teacher's left-over science project. Here's what I don't know...is this some kind of conspiracy? Is it a conspiracy to keep the crustacean accessories industry afloat? I think so!

As I understand it, the teacher orders these short-lived creatures for her classroom to observe in as close to a "natural habitat" as can be created in a flourescent lit, formica cladden science lab full of 9 and 10 year olds. Then those creatures arrive, most are alive, however some have not traveled as well and are "discarded". Of course the kids know the exact count of DOA's and have also attentively observed the "poor little frog" or "poor little crabs" peril upon arrival.

Now, here's the problem. We all know that these creatures do not live long under any circumstance, far less under the care of a 4th grader...or her busy mother...or brother...or pet dog. I mean, would someone please stand up and tell me, give me the evidence that they have, know of or can prove a crab or frog or tadpole that has lived post-elementary science lab past the age of 26 days or so? There is a prize for any one who can prove that to me.

So, here's where the conspiracy comes in. There must be some agreement that the teacher must make with the company providing these creatures that says all remaining living creatures must be lugged home in a stinky, sticky, noise filled busload of children, then dragged down a few blocks to a home of a caring child who foresees her crab living beyond the day she will leave for college. When the teacher accepts this aggreement, the company then mails said science experiments to teacher. At some point the pet stores and crustacean lobbyists across the country come in to play. They must pay the companies that supply these creatures to the teachers. They must pay them a percentage for every agreement these companies can get the teacher to make. Because before your caring, creature-loving child is allowed to bring this still-living (lucky) creature home, you TOO have to sign saying that it is ok and that you will provide the very lucky creature with the proper environment...herein lies the conspiracy.

So, you get the child running in the door with a clear plastic cup commonly used for rainbow sherbet punch at a wedding reception. Instead the cup contains a little sand and, in our case, two crabs...fiddler crabs so they say. My daughter is immediately needing an aquarium, salt water, dechlorination drops, fish food, or even better crustacean food and washed grass from outside (I immediately draw the line at washing grass from outside seeing as our own clothing is still piled up in various stages of dirty, washed not dried, dried not folded and buried throughout the house). Did that form I signed yesterday mention all this? Surely they can make it one day without their special needs...we'll go tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes and little fiddler crab has already perished. Time is running out. The 10 year old suggest an early morning run to the local pet store BEFORE school to assure remaining crabs life. Fortunately I can vouch that said pet store is not even open then and we will just have to wait till she returns from school. When she gets home, she hits the door yelling out if "Mr. Crabs" is still alive, I reply in the affirmative. She then begins a multi-tasking venture the likes of which I have never seen her do before. She leaps upstairs runs into the shower and does all after-school chores faster than she's ever done all year. This is big---really big.

We are off to the pet store. Yes, this IS a conspiracy. One teeny tiny fiddler crab. About the size of the tip of my thumb. Does this creature need a $24.99 tank to "have room to run around in"? I think not. We finally find something around the $15 mark. But then there's food, and salt and sand. Can't we just use dirt from outside? What about table salt, I'm sure that's ok. Must Mr. Crab dine on dried miniature shrimp? I would like shrimp tonight too. Ok, we're in negotiating phase now. I'll buy these "necessities" (who came up with glow-in-the-dark sand? Secretly, I find it a pretty cool idea!), but Mr. Crabs is residing in a tupperware dish until we see if he will acclamate to our efforts in making him part of the family.

That evening after purchasing the "necessities" for Mr. Crabs, I find out from another mom that just last year, she too purchased same "necessities" and was able to get all of 12 days use out of them. She still had all the supplies complete with the air vented, color topped plastic aquarium giving your special fiddler crab that extra running room they yearn for...sucker! She tells me to return everything we've bought (fortunately we'd yet to make it home with the supplies at that point) and she would let us borrow everything she had--yay!! Bet the aquarium, fish food, special salt companies didn't plan on THAT now did they!

Well, Mr. Crabs has been set up now for 5 or 6 days. My daughters room smells like the building at the zoo where they keep the alligators...all from this one little crustacean and his (?) dried mini-shrimp food, I'm sure. But after completely my requested tasks today, I noticed Mr. Crabs isn't quite as lively as in days past. The big pincher isn't flailing about, he's not crabbing around with quite the same pep in his step and I really think he's starting to change color a little. So this is the part where we learn (and have the privilege of teaching) all about the circle of life, God's plan and conspiratorial agreements made between public education, science experiment providers and crab food companies...wonder how THAT conversation is going to go?!

I've Become "One of Those Moms"

Wow---two weeks can go by quick! And, just think of all the clever missed blogging opportunities. Only one stellar occurrence sticks out in my mind...well now two....well, maybe...

OK, well the first is last week's Jarman Open House. Lord knows there is no one on the planet who loves a good Open House night more than me, but I had issues this year. PSB had been gone for a while (he's back as of Saturday--yay!), so I was on my own with the kid schedule. You would think that down to two, it would be a breeze, but noooooo. I didn't have anyone to watch AMB for the night. Even though it was her school, they really aren't supposed to be there so that the teachers can "speak freely", which, of course, I am SO supportive of (no, really). But I'm also not to the point to leave my 9-yr old home alone! So here's what I sent the Principal:

Dear (lovely-principal-whom-i've-known-for-YEARS)--

I have a dilemma. Considered not mentioning it, but have decided to be up front about it.

I have no one (well, short of the queer little man in the cul-de-sac or some insane 10th grade girl who smokes dope at the bus stop) to watch Anne this evening. Although I feel certain that she could fin for herself perfectly and probably have the entire house in order and cleaned up after whatever party she decided to host, I just feel “funny” leaving a 9-yr old home alone. Far be it from me to have her older brother miss his “fun night” (yeah, right) at the I-Hi, where hormones will rage significantly, and stay home with her. Also, far be it from me to push my luck with Grandma who is my only hope to be able to go see OU-Miami this weekend (even though Grandma doesn’t know that yet).

So here it is…I either miss my 14th (yes, fourteenth---one, four) Open House, which of course I would rather pour acid in my eyes than miss my 14th Open House, or….I bring Little “Miss Anne” tonight with her book in hand, and plop her down in the lobby, or outside on the bench, and threaten her within every inch of her life is she does anything but appear to be a stellar example of Patriot Pride. She could sit outside and read like that statue at Helmerich Library (we could stack a bunch of books under her), and maybe all the newbies would think, “wow, this school must really do a great job, since this little girl is just sitting here outside, reading. Where is her ipod? (I’ll have her hide it) Where is her hand held electronic game thingy? Where is her portable dvd player? Her cell phone? Why isn’t she text messaging someone? My gosh, is that a chapter book she is reading? Wow, I can’t wait for my beloved child to learn how to do that”

So, I wanted you to know in advance that I have, in fact, become one of “those moms”, who has to drag her kid around with her everywhere she goes. This way you can all talk about me amongst yourselves freely now. But I’m pretty sure I can bribe Anne sufficiently enough to pull all that off…that is, if it’s ok with Mrs. Pitcock. Let me know.

(Lovely-parent-patron-of-MANY-years!)

Yep, so that's me being oh so clever...or so I thought. Here's what I received back:

Read on…I sent this to everyone at Jarman…they are enjoying your humor and many have guessed who it is, even with me leaving out the name...

Everyone needs a laugh on Friday…so here is an email I received from a humorous parent of ours that is asking to bring her daughter to Curr Night Tonight…I didn’t receive it on time, but she came and was well behaved…Read on for a laugh…some of you may guess who this parent is…

(That same lovely principal of which I spoke earlier)

Well, now...guess that shows ME. I don't think I'll ever be clever again. Who knows who this went out to? Who knows who was offended by my lack of sensitivity? Ohhhhh, this list could go on and on. I guess the best thing to do is move forward and make sure and not wear any make-up, have shaggy hair and walk with my head hung low so no one notices me.


Let's see, other news, or at least really time-consuming activity around here is this Financial Peace University class I mentioned earlier. Man, this stuff is nuts. I find myself thinking about it all the time. Last night my bedtime read was a Suzie Orman book where I find myself obssessing over Revocable Living Trusts or trusts. Can you imagine something that completely boring keeping you up at night---well, it did me. I cannot believe what a geek I have turned into. It's almost embarrassing. And, yes, I really couldn't sleep last night because of thinking about all this--how ridiculous.

(I've fast forwarded to Jun 2008, re-read this draft and decided to publish "as is"!)

you do know what a number grid is, right mom?

Nope--not a clue. That is what just transpired between my 9-yr old and me. Remember that "life lessons" spiel from last post...yeah. Why can't math be taught the Old-Fashioned way anymore? Memorize your math facts (you know, addition, subtraction, multiplication--and hold on to your hat...division), line the little numbers up in little ones, tens, hundreds, thousands, ten thousands, (yes you get the point) columns, draw a line beneath them and DO THE MATH!

I love my daughter's teachers. I really do. I feel sorry for them having to visualize every stinkin concept. Let the kids learn it like we did---get the math wrong, get a red mark, go home, get in a little trouble and know it next time. I know...I'm old and certainly out of touch. But I can do math without a math grid.

Today I had a b'day lunch with friend JH. We dropped in a local design/decorator store--Signature Interiors. The one and only thing I fell in love with was a gargantuan Greek or Roman head. Nope, not a bust...a head. This thing was huge!! About hip high. The tag read "Golden Boy Bust". But there was no bust. It was just this giant head chopped off at the neck sitting on the floor. I was so all over that. Of course a guy approached us, I am sure wondering if we were finally going to be the suckers to take this $360.00 (but wait, everything was 25-40% off!) atrocity home. And, then we got to hear all about how the salesman (or so I assumed) had one of these out on his 40 acres greeting visitors and what people thought and why they had it--yada, yada, yada.

I'm tellin' ya--this was a decorator's item that would have made any Truvy Jones drool. As we parted ways with this wonderful piece of fine art, I longingly looked back and said to JH, "why does this guy remind me so much of Steve? I mean, take away the flowing curls falling gently on his forhead and he's a dead ringer". Jenene, in all her glorious wisdom replies, "cause he's not smilin'".

Funny thing...they had Golden Boy perched on the floor way in the back of the store near a dead end storeroom door. Jeez I have odd taste--but I can do math. tygftd.