This Isn't Really What's on my Mind...

But, it will help you understand why I'm having such trouble getting it out.

I am busy.  Yes, it is true that many of my obligations from this crazy school year are just about over.  In fact, I expected that I would feel considerable relief by the time I reached this point in the year.  And I do.  Sort of.

The truth is that even when I'm not doing "extra" things, my life is still busy.  Yes, my kids are older and much more able to do things on their own.  But, they're still here.  They're busy. They need to be taken places.  They need help with school.  If they're boys, they have to be forced into the shower when I'm already tired.   They ask a lot of questions.  They don't pay attention to questions that have already been asked in their presence and then they ask them again. Then, they wonder why I lose my cool a little when someone asks me for the 5th time what we're having for dinner. (Don't they know by now that I have no flippin' idea what we're having for dinner until I have started to cook it??)  They want to talk to me.  All the time.  I love talking to my children.  Love it!  But, I'm a little outnumbered and my personality  requires a lot of solitude.  I don't get any.

I have figured out the problem.  My brain is tired.  I can't hash out all that's going through my brain because I'm living in a cerebral traffic jam.

This explains why when I do have a minute alone, like now, what I usually end up doing is sitting and staring.  I drink coffee.  I stare some more.  I think of something great I should do.  Then I give up on it and stare a little.

I'm certain this season will not last forever, and I'm even more certain that I will be sad when it passes.  But, right now it is still gonna take me a little longer to tell you what I really want to tell you.  I'll get back with you when the stare passes...;)



  

Life Lessons, but Not the Normal Ones...

So, this morning I discovered that Carter has to make an invention and a display board for the Young Inventor's fair.  If you don't know what that is, think science fair on steroids.

The problem is, it is due Thursday.  Thursday.  As in 3 days from today.

"How long have you known about this??!!"  I ask him.  "For a while, Mom.  But, I thought it was only the 4th graders that had to do it." He is in a multi-age 3rd and 4th grade class and they do often have different assignments, so that's not as ridiculous of an answer as it sounds.  I glance over at him and realize he's crying.    "How am I going to get that done, Mom??  I'm freaking out!"

Me too, buddy.

There are 2 (or a million) schools of thought on how I should handle this situation.  I'm sure some of you are thinking something along the lines of , "that boy needs to learn responsibility!  He dropped the ball, he wasn't paying close enough attention and the best thing is for you to just let him fail!"  Geez, I'm glad you're not my Mom...

Others might say, "He's lying.  He knew about it all along and he is just pulling out the tears to get you to do all the work.  He sure has the wool pulled over your eyes."  You, my friend, don't know my son.  At his last school he earned the nickname "Carter the Confessor."  That boy cannot lie to save his life, he tattles on himself all the time.  Sometimes I just want to say to him, "Dude.  I didn't know about that.  If you hadn't said anything, you would have gotten away with it." (for the record, I don't).

There would probably be very few people who would tell me to do what I'm going to do which is to spend the next 3 nights helping him invent something, build it, and make a display board for it.  But, that's what I'm going to do.

Not because I'm too afraid to let him fail.

Not because he has me snowed.

Not because I really care if he gets a bad grade in 3rd grade science.

I'm doing it because I know him.  Because I know that he really did misunderstand the teacher's directions.  Because HE will be devastated if he gets a bad grade in 3rd grade science.  Because I have made mistakes before (much bigger ones than this!) and I know what it feels like when someone not only forgives you, but helps you clean up the mess.

So, anyone have any ideas of something we could invent??

 

Of Broken Fingers and Spring Break.

This past week, for the first time ever, all of the planets aligned, and we actually left Flint for spring break.  All of our kids are old enough now that traveling is actually enjoyable and let me tell you the scenery between here and Virginia is breath-taking.  The quiet hours in the car (yes, we had many!) were pretty therapeutic for me and the sunny, sunny days and warm weather - awesome.

We did have one mishap, and it happened before we left, we just didn't know it.  The day after we arrived in Virginia, I was in the bedroom with Pierce and he knocked his hand on the dresser.  He immediately melted down like his hand had just been crushed under a car.  I was puzzled because he didn't hit it that hard, but when I looked at his hand, I realized the pinky on his right hand was swollen to twice the size of his other one.

There was no way that little knock on the dresser had caused that, so I immediately started questioning him.  Apparently, the last day of school before break, a little boy in his class had grabbed his pinky and bent in backwards until Pierce cried.  And he never told a grown-up because he didn't want the other little boy to be sad.  But, that was 6 days ago - 6 days.  (I'm probably up for the Mom of the Year Award for how quick I noticed that one).

So, off to the Virginia ER we headed, because even I know that if something is swollen for 6 days, that's probably not good.  The bright spot was the ER doc.  He was DEFINITELY from California.  He had skater hair and a laid back manner that cracked us all up.  He said to Pierce, "Hey, what's up, little bro?"  That's my kind of doctor. :)

Anyway, the x-ray showed that Pierce's finger was indeed broken.  Broken.  Another Kindergartener broke my son's finger.  On purpose.  Oh, the emotions, I can't even begin to describe them.  I can say that it is a good thing I was in Virginia and not Michigan when I found out.

The rest of our trip calmed me down considerably.  I am NOT excusing the behavior of the other kid.  But, things like this happen in life.  It was a reminder that I can't always be there and protect my kids from everything.  I am not all-knowing or all-powerful.  Neither are teachers, no matter how good they are.  As much as I wanted to rant and rave, I had to acknowledge that Pierce could have broken his finger pretty much anywhere.

So, I decided instead to be grateful.  Grateful that it was just a pinky.  Grateful for ER's and medical insurance.  Grateful for the funny skater doctor who mellowed us all out.  Grateful that although my son needs to learn when to speak up, that he has such a tender heart even towards someone who has wronged him.

That's what life is, isn't it?  Learning how to respond appropriately in the moment.  As much as we want to, we cannot control everything that comes our way, but we can control how we react.  We can decide to let things knock us down or make us stronger.  At this rate, I'm well on my way to Wonder Woman status. :)

And, hey, now Pierce gets to be the celebrity Kindergartener with a splint on his hand for a few weeks.  Silver linings, people, silver linings.

Day of Wonder

I'm sure the fact that today is Good Friday has a lot to do with it, but today I am in awe.  In awe of life.  In awe of love.  In awe of creation.  In awe of family.  I have so, so much to be grateful for...it drives me to my knees.

I know that all of you readers may not believe in Jesus, and that is ok.  I'm not trying to proselytize you.  But, I do believe in Him and days like today are so raw and real to me that even if you don't share my faith, I'd like to share my perspective on today with you.

There is a well known Christian song and one of the lines in the chorus goes like this, "Amazing love, how can it be?  That you my King would die for me?   Tears spring to my eyes when I hear it because it's so true.  It's not that I feel like a worthless worm...on the contrary, I feel amazed at the outpouring of love represented by the cross.  I'm sure the fact that we celebrate the death of our Savior seems morose and weird to people outside of the Christian faith, but it's not the ugliness of death that we celebrate.  It is the gift of life that that death purchased.  It is the amazing love story it tells.

That Jesus was willing to endure what he endured...that God was willing to let him...that it was because of their great love for humanity...that it was because of their great love for...me.

For those of you looking in on Christianity from the outside, I'm sure it doesn't always make sense.  I'm sure it looks like there is a lot of fighting and ridiculousness.  And, there is.  But, it's because people are people no  matter what faith they profess or even if they profess none.  We all have our insecurities, baggage from life, weird ideas and prejudices that we have been raised with.  But, know this.  God is good and He is love.  Period.

Today marks death, yes; but also amazing love.  And, as we are fond of saying, Sunday is on the way!

Redundant

Sometimes when I start to write a blog I think to myself, "This sounds an awful lot like a blog I wrote last year or even last month..."  Then I wonder why.  Then I realize that maybe it's because so much of my life is "wash, rinse, repeat" right now.  I have to say though, the discoveries and topics I blog about here all feel new to me even if they travel along the same basic path.  So, read on if you're not bored. ;)

This one is going to be my annual "time to think about school next year" installment.  I feel a whole lot better about school next year than I felt at this time last year, so hey, there's one difference.  First of all, the boys are set.  Man, I couldn't be happier with a school than I am with City School.  Fantastic staff, small classes, tons of field trips and hands on learning, so much parent involvement - it is fabulous!

Second, although I certainly have no regrets about homeschooling Kennedy this year (actually it's been great), she will return to a traditional high school in the fall.  What can I say?  The kid is too smart for me.  I have discovered this year that although I can pass Algebra II, that doesn't mean I can teach it and although I could handle Chemistry - I don't wanna.  Plus, she has a great opportunity in a neighboring school district (this time it's for real) where she knows a couple of kids already and we have it on the down low that the staff and programs are pretty great.

Reagan will remain at home.  She dances 5-6 days a week and when she's in school, I feel like we barely see her.  I like her, so that's not a good plan.  Also, since I have a bit longer to pull it together, I know that I can put together a high school program for her that will cover all the bases.

So, that leaves McKinley.  She's the tricky one this year.  Because the boys are at Grand Blanc through the district of choice program, I could apply and she could go to Grand Blanc Middle School next year.  Could. Or not.  I could homeschool her for middle school and then send her there for high school.  Could. Or not.  I can clearly see the pros and cons of both options.  So, I'm not sure about that one.  Film at eleven.

All of this brings me back around to being grateful.  Though I sometimes get tired of all of the planning and plotting for school, I am darn grateful that I have the privilege.  I am thrilled that I get to consider each of my kids as individuals and tailor their education to what is best for them at whatever stage of life they're in.  No, our schooling thus far has not been typical, but I think it has been the best for them.

So, I'm interested to know.  What does the school journey look like in your house?

So, I read this account yesterday...

of a woman who came of age in Nazi - occupied Austria.

It was chilling.

To hear her tell of how Hitler was literally welcomed into Austria with open arms (98% of the vote, friends) and then methodically turned it into the horrible dictatorship it became, did indeed give me pause.  However, this is not going to be a blog about how America is headed down that same path.  It won't be for several reasons, not the least of which is that I don't completely buy in to that train of thought.  I have many friends on both sides of that argument and both sides have many valid arguments.  Alas, I don't want to argue.

The reason I mention the account is because one of the things she said really struck a chord with me and it was this: at some point along the awful chain of events, all men and women were required to work full time (or be denied a ration card) and the government offered childcare 24/7 - free of charge.  The woman made a comment to this effect, "There were no mothers around to nurture.  The kids were raised by the government."

I stopped reading for several seconds and let that soak in.  No mothers around to nurture.  Infants who were not cooed at and did not have their toes counted.  Toddlers who had no one around to care when they took their first steps.  Preschoolers who didn't have a lap to climb up in when their fledgling independence failed them.  Elementary aged children with no fan club.  Teenagers with no one to walk the tricky line of holding onto them and letting them go.

Oh my God.  With the just the little bit of study that I have done in regards to child development and the human psyche in general, I cannot imagine a worse scenario...for the children or the mothers.

When we start to feel weary along the road of parenting, and yes, we all do; a story like this can whip our lives right back into perspective.  Sure, our days can be long and monotonous, but not one of them is insignificant in the grand scheme of our children's lives.  Each day is a building block on the last and it will all add up to kids who turn into adults that have been well-loved.  Adults who were nurtured.

That dream is our staying power and those adults will, one day, be our gift to society.

Thankful for my struggles...

That's a weird title 2 days before Christmas.  This is the most exciting time of the year!  The kids are bouncing off the walls, the presents are almost ready, the menus are planned, the parties are about to begin...this is not the time to think about struggles!

Well, I can't help it.  I'm not depressed or anything, quite the contrary -  I am caught up in the moment just like the kids are.  But, as I sit here on this early morning, babysitting the cooking turkey while everyone else sleeps, I can't help but think about the journey of my life so far.  I actually feel like I have lived 4 or 5 different lives...you know, the "growing up" life, the "young adult" life, the "newly married" life, the "young kids" life and now I'm in the "many kids of different ages, going back to school" life. ;)

I can't say that my life has looked like I expected it to when I was 18 and just spreading my wings.  I expected it to be easier, more cut and dried.  I expected a lot more choices to be black and white and a lot more events to be predictable.  I expected to always be understood and appreciated.

But, I have realized something along the way.  Every time I run into a situation that is not what I expected, I have a choice.  I can freak out or I can just keep putting one foot in front of the other.  I can bemoan my idea of what should have been or I can embrace what is.  I can be disappointed or I can be excited.

Because the truth is, no matter what comes my way today, I am alive and breathing.  I am blessed immeasurably by the wonderful people in my life and I have, everyday, the chance to craft a legacy.  Think about the people whose lives we love to remember.  Do we say of them, "they had it easy.  Everything they had or accomplished was handed to them.  How inspiring!"  No.  We all love the stories of those who had to overcome so much to stand where they are.  We love those stories because they give us hope, because we see ourselves in their shadows.

I wonder, is it always necessary to start with ashes before one sees beauty?  Maybe not.  But, I do know this, beauty that springs from ashes is magnificent indeed.

Merry Christmas, wonderful friends.  I am glad I get to journey with you.