Wow! It has been over a month since my last post, but I've had a lot going on. I started this blog originally to see if, in sharing stories of my life with others, I might actually inspire myself to figure out what was next for me. My kids are getting older, and even though they need me full time when they are home, I no longer have a child at home during the school day. I recently began making lists as to what I might want to do with the next stage of my life. The one thing I knew for sure was that I did not want to work full time or do anything that would take any time away from my kids. I still wanted to be able to do all the things I have always done for them, and be 100 percent present (physically and mentally)when they got home from school.
Twelve years ago, I made the hardest decision of my life. I left a secure, decent paying, high school English teaching job after ten years. I left a building, colleagues, and students I loved to become a stay at home mom. I have never regretted that decision, although my husband and I have made many sacrifices to allow for the loss of my salary. We both truly feel that our children have benefited greatly from having me home. I feel blessed to have been able to be class mom numerous times and volunteer at the elementary school for various committees. BUT...recently I had begun to feel that it was time for me to start a new chapter of my life. I longed for something that would be "my thing," apart from my family.
About two months ago, I was encouraged to apply for substitute teaching. It was a strange turn of events, and actually not even one of the many ideas on my "lists." Without thinking things through and mulling them over for days on end as I usually do, I went and obtained an application. In order to fill it out, I needed to dig out some documents I had not seen in a very long time. My teaching license, my graduate school transcripts, and my teacher's retirement number were all packed away and a little yellowed! I somehow got it all together and made it to the subbing list.
I have worked three days a week for the past three weeks!
After my first day jitters passed, I felt like I had never left the classroom. I had forgotten the awesome responsibility it is to work with live kids all day long. It is a challenge and a privilege. They are balls of energy and emotion and hormones. They demand the best you have to give and they can spot a phony a mile away. They are draining and awesome!! I have been mostly working at a middle school, and I LOVE IT!!!! I love the surprise of what subject I will be doing each day, the interaction with other professionals, and the thrill of being able to be a positive part of a child's day. Kids are so accepting. On one of the first days, I approached a child to ask if I could help with an essay he was writing. I thought maybe he would feel strange because I wasn't his real teacher, but I couldn't have been more wrong. He was so happy for the help, and really seemed proud of his work when we finished. Since I have been mostly in the same school, the kids are getting to know me, and seem excited when they see me in the hallway.
I have been very lucky that my sister can come to take care of my youngest for an hour and a half in the morning. Without her, I couldn't have done this. But I am home in time for everyone in the afternoon, and I just stay up as late as I can to get the laundry and chores done.
I feel that this opportunity came at the right time, and I am glad I decided to take the plunge. I feel like a person again, not just "mom."
I can be called by any of four schools right now, but am getting extremely attached to the middle school and the wonderful people in it. Seeing first hand again the inner workings of a school, and the dedication that these teachers have for their students every minute of the day is inspiring. I hope that I can continue to work at this school and have even a small impact on the kids.
So that is my reason for not having a new post all month. Starting this new chapter during the busy holiday season was a challenge, but I am fired up and ready to see what the New Year will bring!
Stay tuned to see how this new journey turns out!!
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Giving more than Thanks
Today my family and I were privileged to help out at a church in Far Rockaway, serving Thanksgiving dinner to the needy. This is the third year for my family, and every year I end this day with a mix of emotions running through me.
The organization that makes this possible is called Rock and Wrap It Up. It was founded by an incredible guy named Syd Mandelbaum, who many years ago, saw a need and has been working to fill that need ever since. You can check out the story of how this incredible organization came to be on their website if you have a moment.
http://www.rockandwrapitup.org/about-us/founders-story
The reason my family became involved with this organization was for purely selfish purposes. I could see my children becoming less grateful for what they had, through no fault of their own, I admit. My husband and I wanted them to see that they had no reason to complain when they had so much, and others had so little. My husband's boss is directly involved with this organization and mentioned to him that they could use help. We thought this would be an eye opening experience for our kids, but we had no idea how eye opening it would be for us as well.
Before we let the "guests" in to eat, Syd asks us to join hands and form a circle. He thanks us for coming and reminds us that the only thing separating us from those outside is circumstance. He reminds us that one bad break or turn of events could leave us on the other side of that door as well. We are no better than the people we serve, it is only that we have met with better circumstances. For now, anyway.
When the guests come, they all have different stories, and are there for different reasons. There are some who put on their best clothes, trying to maintain dignity as they come for a free meal. There are some that eat the food so quickly that you wonder when they last had a meal. Then there are a few, and they come every year, that walk around and try to act as if they are one of the servers because they are embarrassed to be there.
Some of the people who come are very different in appearance than what my kids are used to seeing. Some haven't seen shampoo in a while, some are missing most of their teeth, some are even mentally ill. But our job while we are there is to remember that they are human beings and treat them with respect. We must try to make them feel comfortable, and not feel as though they are taking a handout. We serve more than turkey dinners, we serve kindness and friendship.
My kids really stepped up to the plate today, and I couldn't be more proud. At one point today, my 14 year old was in the kitchen, on the plate making assembly line, forking ham onto plates while my 8 year old stepped up to two men and asked what they would like to drink, and then got it for them. My 11 year old daughter made 72 "toiletry kits" at home over the past few weeks to give to the guests as they were leaving. She saw people asking if they could have one, and realized just how appreciated her kind deed was. Today my kids had to know they made a difference.
Yes, on this day we all say we are thankful, and we probably really mean it. We pause and reflect on what is good in our lives, and realize that for most of us, the "bad stuff" isn't that bad. But what happens when tomorrow comes? Or that Black Friday midnight sale? Do we jump back into the land of "I want," or "Why don't I have it?"
The truth is my kids, who pitched in and worked as a team at the church dinner, were fighting before our car left the parking lot to drive home. Tomorrow they will no doubt be working on their Christmas lists, and they will complain about something they don't have. But somewhere in their hearts, and in some part of their brains, I know that a lesson was learned. I know that they feel good about what they were part of today.
I'm not looking for accolades or pats on the back. Actually, I am ashamed that we only do this once a year. Like most of you, we give to charity, adopt families at the holidays and give to the food pantry year round. But today was different because we gave our time and attention to many who just needed someone who would listen to their stories. Compassion is a beautiful thing to give to another human being. And maybe its cliche, but I left there feeling as if I had received the gift.
So this year I am thankful that my family was able to do more than just give thanks, we gave the gift of us.
The organization that makes this possible is called Rock and Wrap It Up. It was founded by an incredible guy named Syd Mandelbaum, who many years ago, saw a need and has been working to fill that need ever since. You can check out the story of how this incredible organization came to be on their website if you have a moment.
http://www.rockandwrapitup.org/about-us/founders-story
The reason my family became involved with this organization was for purely selfish purposes. I could see my children becoming less grateful for what they had, through no fault of their own, I admit. My husband and I wanted them to see that they had no reason to complain when they had so much, and others had so little. My husband's boss is directly involved with this organization and mentioned to him that they could use help. We thought this would be an eye opening experience for our kids, but we had no idea how eye opening it would be for us as well.
Before we let the "guests" in to eat, Syd asks us to join hands and form a circle. He thanks us for coming and reminds us that the only thing separating us from those outside is circumstance. He reminds us that one bad break or turn of events could leave us on the other side of that door as well. We are no better than the people we serve, it is only that we have met with better circumstances. For now, anyway.
When the guests come, they all have different stories, and are there for different reasons. There are some who put on their best clothes, trying to maintain dignity as they come for a free meal. There are some that eat the food so quickly that you wonder when they last had a meal. Then there are a few, and they come every year, that walk around and try to act as if they are one of the servers because they are embarrassed to be there.
Some of the people who come are very different in appearance than what my kids are used to seeing. Some haven't seen shampoo in a while, some are missing most of their teeth, some are even mentally ill. But our job while we are there is to remember that they are human beings and treat them with respect. We must try to make them feel comfortable, and not feel as though they are taking a handout. We serve more than turkey dinners, we serve kindness and friendship.
My kids really stepped up to the plate today, and I couldn't be more proud. At one point today, my 14 year old was in the kitchen, on the plate making assembly line, forking ham onto plates while my 8 year old stepped up to two men and asked what they would like to drink, and then got it for them. My 11 year old daughter made 72 "toiletry kits" at home over the past few weeks to give to the guests as they were leaving. She saw people asking if they could have one, and realized just how appreciated her kind deed was. Today my kids had to know they made a difference.
Yes, on this day we all say we are thankful, and we probably really mean it. We pause and reflect on what is good in our lives, and realize that for most of us, the "bad stuff" isn't that bad. But what happens when tomorrow comes? Or that Black Friday midnight sale? Do we jump back into the land of "I want," or "Why don't I have it?"
The truth is my kids, who pitched in and worked as a team at the church dinner, were fighting before our car left the parking lot to drive home. Tomorrow they will no doubt be working on their Christmas lists, and they will complain about something they don't have. But somewhere in their hearts, and in some part of their brains, I know that a lesson was learned. I know that they feel good about what they were part of today.
I'm not looking for accolades or pats on the back. Actually, I am ashamed that we only do this once a year. Like most of you, we give to charity, adopt families at the holidays and give to the food pantry year round. But today was different because we gave our time and attention to many who just needed someone who would listen to their stories. Compassion is a beautiful thing to give to another human being. And maybe its cliche, but I left there feeling as if I had received the gift.
So this year I am thankful that my family was able to do more than just give thanks, we gave the gift of us.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Clutter
There is a thread that bonds us all, one thing that all of us have in common, no matter how different our backgrounds. It transcends religion and ethnicity. It's a dirty little secret that no one likes to talk about, but something must be done before it takes over our lives. Yes, that's right. I'm talking about CLUTTER. Clutter builds up over time, like a snowball rolling down a hill. You look up suddenly, and WHAM!, you are blindsided. Where did all this stuff come from?
Most items of clutter once had a perfectly good reason for coming into your home. It's the kids' school papers, coupons you clipped but never got around to using, catalogs you received in the mail, dioramas that the teacher was nice enough to send back home, and the toys from happy meals! Then there are receipts, and the free water bottle you got for signing up for Newsday. And that's just what is visible!
There's clutter in your fridge too! Almost empty jars of condiments that no one will ever finish, and packets of duck sauce from the chinese takeout place! There is clutter in our dresser drawers as well. Be honest. Aren't there a few pair of socks that should have been discarded? And we all have a kitchen junk drawer! Where else would be keep the buttons that come off our clothes that we mean to re-attach, and the paper clips, and mysterious screws that we find on the floor? Dried out markers need a spot, and old batteries, since we aren't supposed to throw them out!
If you think clutter isn't a problem, think again, my friend. Clutter is big business! Ever see the ads for GOT JUNK?, or CLUTTERBUSTERS? These companies will send someone to your house to take away all your unwanted junk. And don't forget HGTV!!! There are entire shows devoted to helping people rid themselves of clutter so that they may lead more productive lives. It doesn't matter how CLEAN your home is if you've got clutter. It will always appear messy.
Why do we keep clutter? There are a few reasons: We keep things because we are emotionally attached to them. (Think baby clothes- and your baby is 23!!) We also keep things out of guilt. Maybe your mother-in-law gave it to you, or your child made that macaroni and glitter self portrait. We also keep things because we are afraid that we will find that we need them as soon as we get rid of them.
I abhor clutter. I can't stand to see a cluttered counter or table top. I fight the clutter battle daily because I have three kids who really don't seem to mind it. The problem is, when you live with other people, there will always be a difference of opinion concerning what constitutes clutter. Every time I de-clutter, I invariably throw out something that someone else needs the very next day--even if they haven't looked at it in three years. A recent conversation with my son went like this:
"Mom, where's that paper with the worm on it?"
"Which one?"
"The one with the orange worm. I need it right now!"
Of course, he is referring the the scrap of paper that looked like it was ripped off the bottom of a loose leaf sheet, with one orange squiggle drawn on it. That paper sat on my end table for about three weeks, never moving once. I threw it out yesterday. Then I hit him with my standard line, "You need to keep better track of your things, buddy. If I see it, I'll let you know.".
Even though I detest clutter, I am guilty of occasionally adding to it as well. I once changed a doorknob and kept the old one in my garage for a year. Did I think I was going to change my mind and put the old one back on the door? Did I think a friend was going to say she needed a doorknob and I'd offer her my outdated, scratched one? I just recently threw it out.
Look around your home right now as you read this. Do you have visible clutter? Are you hiding your clutter? What's holding you back from taking the steps necessary to rid yourself of it once and for all? (For me, it's those darn kids!!) And if you don't have clutter, what is your secret?
I have a friend who takes a laundry basket when she is having company and does the one arm sweep of her counter tops and tables, depositing all the clutter. She then hides it in a locked closet in her room. Instant de-cluttering! The problem is, she never ever goes back to look at the contents! Bills are sometimes forgotten, and permission slips not handed in. But out of sight, out of mind, and her house looks great! She needs to build another closet, though, but that's another story. Hey, I wonder if she'll need a doorknob for that closet. Oh, man! I knew I should have saved it!!
Most items of clutter once had a perfectly good reason for coming into your home. It's the kids' school papers, coupons you clipped but never got around to using, catalogs you received in the mail, dioramas that the teacher was nice enough to send back home, and the toys from happy meals! Then there are receipts, and the free water bottle you got for signing up for Newsday. And that's just what is visible!
There's clutter in your fridge too! Almost empty jars of condiments that no one will ever finish, and packets of duck sauce from the chinese takeout place! There is clutter in our dresser drawers as well. Be honest. Aren't there a few pair of socks that should have been discarded? And we all have a kitchen junk drawer! Where else would be keep the buttons that come off our clothes that we mean to re-attach, and the paper clips, and mysterious screws that we find on the floor? Dried out markers need a spot, and old batteries, since we aren't supposed to throw them out!
If you think clutter isn't a problem, think again, my friend. Clutter is big business! Ever see the ads for GOT JUNK?, or CLUTTERBUSTERS? These companies will send someone to your house to take away all your unwanted junk. And don't forget HGTV!!! There are entire shows devoted to helping people rid themselves of clutter so that they may lead more productive lives. It doesn't matter how CLEAN your home is if you've got clutter. It will always appear messy.
Why do we keep clutter? There are a few reasons: We keep things because we are emotionally attached to them. (Think baby clothes- and your baby is 23!!) We also keep things out of guilt. Maybe your mother-in-law gave it to you, or your child made that macaroni and glitter self portrait. We also keep things because we are afraid that we will find that we need them as soon as we get rid of them.
I abhor clutter. I can't stand to see a cluttered counter or table top. I fight the clutter battle daily because I have three kids who really don't seem to mind it. The problem is, when you live with other people, there will always be a difference of opinion concerning what constitutes clutter. Every time I de-clutter, I invariably throw out something that someone else needs the very next day--even if they haven't looked at it in three years. A recent conversation with my son went like this:
"Mom, where's that paper with the worm on it?"
"Which one?"
"The one with the orange worm. I need it right now!"
Of course, he is referring the the scrap of paper that looked like it was ripped off the bottom of a loose leaf sheet, with one orange squiggle drawn on it. That paper sat on my end table for about three weeks, never moving once. I threw it out yesterday. Then I hit him with my standard line, "You need to keep better track of your things, buddy. If I see it, I'll let you know.".
Even though I detest clutter, I am guilty of occasionally adding to it as well. I once changed a doorknob and kept the old one in my garage for a year. Did I think I was going to change my mind and put the old one back on the door? Did I think a friend was going to say she needed a doorknob and I'd offer her my outdated, scratched one? I just recently threw it out.
Look around your home right now as you read this. Do you have visible clutter? Are you hiding your clutter? What's holding you back from taking the steps necessary to rid yourself of it once and for all? (For me, it's those darn kids!!) And if you don't have clutter, what is your secret?
I have a friend who takes a laundry basket when she is having company and does the one arm sweep of her counter tops and tables, depositing all the clutter. She then hides it in a locked closet in her room. Instant de-cluttering! The problem is, she never ever goes back to look at the contents! Bills are sometimes forgotten, and permission slips not handed in. But out of sight, out of mind, and her house looks great! She needs to build another closet, though, but that's another story. Hey, I wonder if she'll need a doorknob for that closet. Oh, man! I knew I should have saved it!!
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Country Music
The other night I watched part of the Country Music Awards while lying in bed. I've never been a huge country music fan, but I think that's about to change. I'm telling you the truth, I sobbed through most of the hour and a half I watched! What is it about country music that evokes such emotion? My eyes were red and swollen, and my nose was stuffy, but it was cathartic!
Country singers have a gift for telling a story with words. Everything sounds so dramatic when sung by a country singer. They sing songs that speak to the experiences we all have shared, with love being a main topic: Finding love, losing love, forbidden love, even love for a pet! They sing songs of wanting someone you can't have, and the love that got away. Country singers sing songs of hard times and struggle, songs of triumph over adversity, songs of going home again!
All music brings you back to a time and a place when things were different, when YOU were different. Sometimes, if you close your eyes, you can almost swear you are back in the past. It can makes you feel alive and young again. Country singers have a knack for making any topic seem urgent and relevant. But it's not only the words, it's the country twang, and the look of the performer that touches us. It's all in the delivery! If Brad Paisley, with his stetson and worn blue jeans, sang a song about a toothache or a clogged drain (both of which I've experienced!), I'm sure it would have touched my heart as much as the others. The way country musicians perform, usually without a lot of fanfare, is what really allows you focus on the words of the song without any distraction. Most country musicians don't dress in costumes, pop out of cakes, or enter on a moving piano. No, mostly it's a guy or girl with his/her guitar, just making great music with lyrics you can actually understand!
Even if you didn't have the same exact experience, it can still move you to tears. Martina McBride sang, "I'm gonna love you through it,"a song about loving someone through cancer. She talks about getting the news, and how her husband held her close while she cried. The words brought me back to years ago when I suffered a miscarriage, and there were many days when my husband had to literally pick me up off the floor and hold me close or I would have stayed there all day.
Toward the end of the show, they did a tribute to Glenn Campbell, who now has Alzheimers. It was so sad, I couldn't take it anymore. I wasn't joking when I said I cried for the entire hour and a half! I thought my husband would be disturbed by my sobbing and my outpouring of emotion, but no worries! He was snoring so loudly he didn't even hear me!
Oh well! I'm thinking that would make a great country song.
So...Does country music have the same effect on you? (The emotion, I mean, not the snoring!)
Country singers have a gift for telling a story with words. Everything sounds so dramatic when sung by a country singer. They sing songs that speak to the experiences we all have shared, with love being a main topic: Finding love, losing love, forbidden love, even love for a pet! They sing songs of wanting someone you can't have, and the love that got away. Country singers sing songs of hard times and struggle, songs of triumph over adversity, songs of going home again!
All music brings you back to a time and a place when things were different, when YOU were different. Sometimes, if you close your eyes, you can almost swear you are back in the past. It can makes you feel alive and young again. Country singers have a knack for making any topic seem urgent and relevant. But it's not only the words, it's the country twang, and the look of the performer that touches us. It's all in the delivery! If Brad Paisley, with his stetson and worn blue jeans, sang a song about a toothache or a clogged drain (both of which I've experienced!), I'm sure it would have touched my heart as much as the others. The way country musicians perform, usually without a lot of fanfare, is what really allows you focus on the words of the song without any distraction. Most country musicians don't dress in costumes, pop out of cakes, or enter on a moving piano. No, mostly it's a guy or girl with his/her guitar, just making great music with lyrics you can actually understand!
Even if you didn't have the same exact experience, it can still move you to tears. Martina McBride sang, "I'm gonna love you through it,"a song about loving someone through cancer. She talks about getting the news, and how her husband held her close while she cried. The words brought me back to years ago when I suffered a miscarriage, and there were many days when my husband had to literally pick me up off the floor and hold me close or I would have stayed there all day.
Toward the end of the show, they did a tribute to Glenn Campbell, who now has Alzheimers. It was so sad, I couldn't take it anymore. I wasn't joking when I said I cried for the entire hour and a half! I thought my husband would be disturbed by my sobbing and my outpouring of emotion, but no worries! He was snoring so loudly he didn't even hear me!
Oh well! I'm thinking that would make a great country song.
So...Does country music have the same effect on you? (The emotion, I mean, not the snoring!)
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Book Recommendation
Hi everyone,
I just finished reading a great book and I wanted to share it with you. I found it by accident while walking around the public library. It is by Susan Wiggs, and it is called The Goodbye Quilt. It is narrated by a mother who is on a road trip to drop her only child off at college for the first time. This mother will say things that you already feel, make you think of things you hadn't, and be grateful for the time you have with your kids. I don't want to say anymore, but I think if you like my blog, you will love this book.
Let me know if any of you read it!!
I just finished reading a great book and I wanted to share it with you. I found it by accident while walking around the public library. It is by Susan Wiggs, and it is called The Goodbye Quilt. It is narrated by a mother who is on a road trip to drop her only child off at college for the first time. This mother will say things that you already feel, make you think of things you hadn't, and be grateful for the time you have with your kids. I don't want to say anymore, but I think if you like my blog, you will love this book.
Let me know if any of you read it!!
Monday, October 31, 2011
Temptation
It is very hard around here with all of this Halloween candy in my face. Usually, I don't think much about my favorite candy, milky ways. That's because during the year, I'm usually very careful not to let them in my house. But a few weeks before Halloween, I start stocking up on the stuff to give trick or treaters, and I buy them, lying to myself that they are just for giving out. By now, you would think I would know the drill, and buy something I don't like. But every year, I buy that bag of milky ways! It's like I'm looking for trouble.
I promise myself I'm not going to take even one bite, because I know if I get a taste, I'm going to want more and more. I even torture myself a little by not eating one right away. For a few days, I walk past the bag, I look at the bag, I smell the bag, but I don't give in just yet. When I feel myself becoming weak, I turn the bag over and look at the nutritional facts. I read all the reasons why I should stay away from the milky ways! It works for another few days. Then, and it happens this way every year, I have a stressful day, and start eyeballing that milky way. I convince myself that there's no harm in having "just one." I even convince myself that if I eat one, it will stop becoming something I obsess over, and maybe I can stop there. I am sure it will make me feel better, and I convince myself it won't become a habit.
I eat one, and even though I enjoy every bite, I feel gross inside. Was it worth it? Well, it was so good! I knew it would be!! You know how it goes, one leads to two and three, and pretty soon I devour the entire bag. I wake up thinking about what point in the day I'll have my milky way. If someone else asks to have one, I get a little possessive. I like to keep my milky ways all to myself. In fact, I hide them. I'm weak, I know, and I only hope that giving in doesn't ruin all my eating habits.
But after a while, after that bag has been emptied, and the guilt starts to fade, I come to terms with it. I realize it's okay to be a little self-indulgent once in a while, as long as I don't make it a daily habit the whole year through. I'm only human, and I'll be stronger next year!
I will, you'll see!
What's your candy weakness? Are you strong, or do you give in to temptation?
I promise myself I'm not going to take even one bite, because I know if I get a taste, I'm going to want more and more. I even torture myself a little by not eating one right away. For a few days, I walk past the bag, I look at the bag, I smell the bag, but I don't give in just yet. When I feel myself becoming weak, I turn the bag over and look at the nutritional facts. I read all the reasons why I should stay away from the milky ways! It works for another few days. Then, and it happens this way every year, I have a stressful day, and start eyeballing that milky way. I convince myself that there's no harm in having "just one." I even convince myself that if I eat one, it will stop becoming something I obsess over, and maybe I can stop there. I am sure it will make me feel better, and I convince myself it won't become a habit.
I eat one, and even though I enjoy every bite, I feel gross inside. Was it worth it? Well, it was so good! I knew it would be!! You know how it goes, one leads to two and three, and pretty soon I devour the entire bag. I wake up thinking about what point in the day I'll have my milky way. If someone else asks to have one, I get a little possessive. I like to keep my milky ways all to myself. In fact, I hide them. I'm weak, I know, and I only hope that giving in doesn't ruin all my eating habits.
But after a while, after that bag has been emptied, and the guilt starts to fade, I come to terms with it. I realize it's okay to be a little self-indulgent once in a while, as long as I don't make it a daily habit the whole year through. I'm only human, and I'll be stronger next year!
I will, you'll see!
What's your candy weakness? Are you strong, or do you give in to temptation?
Monday, October 24, 2011
Photos
I found a pile of old photos this morning. Of course they are photos of my kids. They were taken around six years ago, when the kids were 8, 5, and 2. In these photos, the kids are looking at each other, or one isn't looking at the camera, or the picture itself is off center. In some of them, someone is crying or pouting, and refusing to smile for the camera. I deemed this pile of photos not good enough to make it into the family album at the time, but as I look at them today, six years later, I realize they are more than perfect. They capture what the "perfect" album photos do not: reality.
Some of the photos I found were attempts to take a picture for our Christmas card. I remember how uncooperative the kids were being. One sat, two ran away. Two sat, one pulled off his tie; I remember sweating profusely! I was so concerned with getting the perfect photo, but what was I trying to do really? Was I trying to show the world an image of my life that didn't truly exist? Three perfectly coordinated outfits, on three freshly scrubbed, obedient children was not easy to achieve. Even on those occasions when I did get the shot, it wasn't reality. Five minutes later they had pulled off their itchy clothes and were screaming like maniacs again. I would never have dreamed of snapping a picture then!
A photo really is just a jump start for memories. Sometimes, looking at photos can make you happy. If you are re-living a vacation or a family celebration, this is usually the case. Other times, it can make you sad, as it did for me today. I wished I could just jump right back into those photos for a day knowing what I know now, that the frustration I felt when they wouldn't all sit still would one day seem silly. I know that the weariness I felt just parenting three young kids eventually goes away, only to be replaced with a new kind of tired as they grow older and have bigger needs. I wish I could go back and truly appreciate the moment, and not worry so much about the darn picture. I wish I could just hug their little bodies again.
They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but they don't tell you that some of those words just may be, "It took me an hour to get this photo!" I feel lucky to have found these "imperfect" photos from a time when I didn't have a digital camera. Nowadays, we can see when a picture didn't come out as we had hoped, and delete it on the spot. Maybe we should all be a little more selective before we hit that delete button, though. Some of those imperfect photos may have captured what we usually don't think to capture: real, uncensored moments in our lives.
Life is made up of a lot of "big" moments. Usually, these big ones get photographed and shown to friends and family. But there are many "not so big" moments that blend together as a mother struggles to find the strength to make it through each day. We find ourselves under mounds of laundry, housework, and bills. We have groceries to buy, and meals to cook. Diapers need to be changed, and car pools driven. We usually don't take our cameras out for those events. But that is real life. And do you know what? I think our kids are going to remember many more of those moments than anything else.
Think about your own life. I truly don't remember each and every family Communion or Easter from my childhood, even though I have have photos of those days. But I remember the tray of freshly baked cookies, and the shoes my dad used to wear. I remember seeing my mom at the kitchen sink each night as she cleaned up after dinner. I can close my eyes right now and feel my mother's cheek on my forehead and see the concern in her eyes as she checked me for fever, and I don't have a photo of any of those things!
So if you are a young mom, take some advice from a veteran: Don't worry about capturing the perfect scene, with perfect hair and smiles. Enjoy living the ordinary moments as they happen, because years from now you won't need a picture to remember them. That's the truth.
Some of the photos I found were attempts to take a picture for our Christmas card. I remember how uncooperative the kids were being. One sat, two ran away. Two sat, one pulled off his tie; I remember sweating profusely! I was so concerned with getting the perfect photo, but what was I trying to do really? Was I trying to show the world an image of my life that didn't truly exist? Three perfectly coordinated outfits, on three freshly scrubbed, obedient children was not easy to achieve. Even on those occasions when I did get the shot, it wasn't reality. Five minutes later they had pulled off their itchy clothes and were screaming like maniacs again. I would never have dreamed of snapping a picture then!
A photo really is just a jump start for memories. Sometimes, looking at photos can make you happy. If you are re-living a vacation or a family celebration, this is usually the case. Other times, it can make you sad, as it did for me today. I wished I could just jump right back into those photos for a day knowing what I know now, that the frustration I felt when they wouldn't all sit still would one day seem silly. I know that the weariness I felt just parenting three young kids eventually goes away, only to be replaced with a new kind of tired as they grow older and have bigger needs. I wish I could go back and truly appreciate the moment, and not worry so much about the darn picture. I wish I could just hug their little bodies again.
They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but they don't tell you that some of those words just may be, "It took me an hour to get this photo!" I feel lucky to have found these "imperfect" photos from a time when I didn't have a digital camera. Nowadays, we can see when a picture didn't come out as we had hoped, and delete it on the spot. Maybe we should all be a little more selective before we hit that delete button, though. Some of those imperfect photos may have captured what we usually don't think to capture: real, uncensored moments in our lives.
Life is made up of a lot of "big" moments. Usually, these big ones get photographed and shown to friends and family. But there are many "not so big" moments that blend together as a mother struggles to find the strength to make it through each day. We find ourselves under mounds of laundry, housework, and bills. We have groceries to buy, and meals to cook. Diapers need to be changed, and car pools driven. We usually don't take our cameras out for those events. But that is real life. And do you know what? I think our kids are going to remember many more of those moments than anything else.
Think about your own life. I truly don't remember each and every family Communion or Easter from my childhood, even though I have have photos of those days. But I remember the tray of freshly baked cookies, and the shoes my dad used to wear. I remember seeing my mom at the kitchen sink each night as she cleaned up after dinner. I can close my eyes right now and feel my mother's cheek on my forehead and see the concern in her eyes as she checked me for fever, and I don't have a photo of any of those things!
So if you are a young mom, take some advice from a veteran: Don't worry about capturing the perfect scene, with perfect hair and smiles. Enjoy living the ordinary moments as they happen, because years from now you won't need a picture to remember them. That's the truth.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Cousins
My dad was one of eight children. Two of his brothers passed away when he was young: Saverio, as a child, and Vincent (Jimmy), in WWII. The remaining 6 siblings stayed close, all living most of their lives on Long Island: Rose, Lena, Vito (Bill), Nick, Sal, and my dad, Joe. Together they had 21 children. The sad truth is that these days I only see most of my extended family at wakes and weddings, and the former is the most common. We always promise to get together more often, but we are all so busy with our own lives that it rarely happens. I have lost two more uncles and an aunt already, and my own parents are in their eighties. It is starting to seem more important that we get our family together a bit more often. In that spirit, my sister held a "reunion" at her home for my aunts, uncles, and cousins last month.
Cousins are very special relatives, in my opinion. Cousins aren't in your face every day growing up the way a brother or sister is, therefore, you really don't have a chance to get on each other's nerves. However, because our parents are siblings, we have similar traditions. When I see my cousins, I am brought right back to my childhood, when our families would visit on Sundays. Times were different, and Sundays were sacred. Back then there wasn't any soccer, t-ball, flag football, or the myriad of things I know take up my own Sundays. There wasn't any rushing around to get the grocery shopping done either, because most stores weren't even open on Sundays. So people actually visited one another!
Our families got together and there was always a huge meal. We had small houses, so the kids didn't fit at the dining table. No one stressed about it, or put a huge addition on the house, we just had a kids' table set up somewhere else. There was always someone to play with, and boy, did we have fun! We played in the backyard, caught fireflies, toasted marshmallows on charcoal grills, and swam in above ground pools. We came inside only if the weather was bad, and played in the basement for hours. There were no electronics to distract us from interacting with one another. We loved every minute of it. It was perfect, but as is often the case in life, you really don't know what you have until it's gone.
I got very emotional when I saw one of my cousins in particular at the party. Anthony is my age, and we played together a lot while we were growing up. It seems that we visited his house the most. My dad would put my purple, hand-me-down bike with the banana seat in the trunk of his Chevelle, and off we would go to my cousins' house. There were five kids in that family, so it was always a lot of fun. They had a huge backyard where we spent many hours, making up all sorts of games. They had a big, above ground pool, and we swam for hours. My Aunt Maureen was the best cook in the world, and there was always more than enough food. I have the best memories of sitting cross-legged in front of their coffee table in the living room, eating dinner with my cousins. I swear I can still taste her roast beef and mashed potatoes right now. Sadly, my Aunt Maureen and Uncle Sal both passed away at an early age, and their passing left a huge gap in our family.
My dad and his brothers all look alike, so when my cousin Anthony and his brothers saw my dad at this party we just had, I could see them becoming emotional. They hugged and kissed my dad, and that scene nearly pushed me over the edge. It was like they were seeing part of their dad again.
Anthony looks like his dad as well, and has so many of his mannerisms that I found myself staring at him. We have a similar sense of humor, and when I see him, I feel like I'm ten again, and I act sort of goofy. We tease each other, and I remember all the games we used to play. I think I hugged him twenty times at my sister's house, as if the hugging would somehow transport us back to the time when we were young, and we didn't need to really think about much of anything, especially jobs, mortgages, and aging and deceased parents.
Seeing all my cousins again was a reality check. We are growing older, some of us have married children, and one is even a grandmother! My cousins and I are moving up a rung on that ladder of mortality. Our parents have either passed or are old. Those carefree days of being a child are way over for us, and those no-rush Sundays a thing of the past. Our families didn't have a lot, but it felt like we did. We had what was important. I kind of mourn the loss of those days, and wonder if my kids will look back on their childhood with the same sense of peace I do mine, despite this "gotta have it, gotta make it bigger, gotta get more of it" world.
Another cousin's daughter got married last weekend, so I got to see a few of my cousins again. When I said goodbye to my cousin Anthony, I felt really sad. I told him I didn't want to wait a whole year before I saw him again. He's got a great wife and two sons, and I have my own family. We will get busy again with life, and we probably won't see each other for a long while. But when I do see him, and all my other cousins, I will once again be reminded of who I was when I was small. I will recall a time when all of our parents were young and healthy, and life was not nearly as complicated as it is now. And I'll definitely hug him again.
Do you have special memories of your cousins?
Cousins are very special relatives, in my opinion. Cousins aren't in your face every day growing up the way a brother or sister is, therefore, you really don't have a chance to get on each other's nerves. However, because our parents are siblings, we have similar traditions. When I see my cousins, I am brought right back to my childhood, when our families would visit on Sundays. Times were different, and Sundays were sacred. Back then there wasn't any soccer, t-ball, flag football, or the myriad of things I know take up my own Sundays. There wasn't any rushing around to get the grocery shopping done either, because most stores weren't even open on Sundays. So people actually visited one another!
Our families got together and there was always a huge meal. We had small houses, so the kids didn't fit at the dining table. No one stressed about it, or put a huge addition on the house, we just had a kids' table set up somewhere else. There was always someone to play with, and boy, did we have fun! We played in the backyard, caught fireflies, toasted marshmallows on charcoal grills, and swam in above ground pools. We came inside only if the weather was bad, and played in the basement for hours. There were no electronics to distract us from interacting with one another. We loved every minute of it. It was perfect, but as is often the case in life, you really don't know what you have until it's gone.
I got very emotional when I saw one of my cousins in particular at the party. Anthony is my age, and we played together a lot while we were growing up. It seems that we visited his house the most. My dad would put my purple, hand-me-down bike with the banana seat in the trunk of his Chevelle, and off we would go to my cousins' house. There were five kids in that family, so it was always a lot of fun. They had a huge backyard where we spent many hours, making up all sorts of games. They had a big, above ground pool, and we swam for hours. My Aunt Maureen was the best cook in the world, and there was always more than enough food. I have the best memories of sitting cross-legged in front of their coffee table in the living room, eating dinner with my cousins. I swear I can still taste her roast beef and mashed potatoes right now. Sadly, my Aunt Maureen and Uncle Sal both passed away at an early age, and their passing left a huge gap in our family.
My dad and his brothers all look alike, so when my cousin Anthony and his brothers saw my dad at this party we just had, I could see them becoming emotional. They hugged and kissed my dad, and that scene nearly pushed me over the edge. It was like they were seeing part of their dad again.
Anthony looks like his dad as well, and has so many of his mannerisms that I found myself staring at him. We have a similar sense of humor, and when I see him, I feel like I'm ten again, and I act sort of goofy. We tease each other, and I remember all the games we used to play. I think I hugged him twenty times at my sister's house, as if the hugging would somehow transport us back to the time when we were young, and we didn't need to really think about much of anything, especially jobs, mortgages, and aging and deceased parents.
Seeing all my cousins again was a reality check. We are growing older, some of us have married children, and one is even a grandmother! My cousins and I are moving up a rung on that ladder of mortality. Our parents have either passed or are old. Those carefree days of being a child are way over for us, and those no-rush Sundays a thing of the past. Our families didn't have a lot, but it felt like we did. We had what was important. I kind of mourn the loss of those days, and wonder if my kids will look back on their childhood with the same sense of peace I do mine, despite this "gotta have it, gotta make it bigger, gotta get more of it" world.
Another cousin's daughter got married last weekend, so I got to see a few of my cousins again. When I said goodbye to my cousin Anthony, I felt really sad. I told him I didn't want to wait a whole year before I saw him again. He's got a great wife and two sons, and I have my own family. We will get busy again with life, and we probably won't see each other for a long while. But when I do see him, and all my other cousins, I will once again be reminded of who I was when I was small. I will recall a time when all of our parents were young and healthy, and life was not nearly as complicated as it is now. And I'll definitely hug him again.
Do you have special memories of your cousins?
Monday, October 3, 2011
The Rush
It has been longer than I expected since my last post. All day, every day, I write stories in my head, but never seem to have time to sit down at this darn computer. This past weekend was a busy one for my family, no busier than any other, mind you, but it just felt exhausting. I'm sure most of you have the same type of weekends, and if you have kids who are involved in sports and activities, you are probably exhausted right now as well.
I've always been against overscheduling kids with too many activities, and I honestly don't think my children are involved in too much--separately, that is. The problem lies in having three children who have different things going on, often at the same time! My daughter is involved in the least amount of things, but is always dragged around to her brothers' sporting events. This weekend I felt particularly sorry for her because all she wanted to do was lie on the couch and read. She wanted and needed a day to just relax, which we all could use, but I couldn't give it to her.
Although these activities are fun for the kids, and keep them healthy and active, sometimes it can feel like we live in the car, rushing from one thing to another. Think about it, how many times a day do you say, "hurry up" to your kids? I can't be alone in this. "Hurry up, the bus is coming, Hurry up, put on your cleats, Hurry up, get in the car!" I know I sound like a broken record, and that can't be fun to hear. To top it all off, in between sports, there was food shopping that needed to get done, so I was feeling pretty much like burnt toast when I arrived at the food store to grab the cold cuts for this week's sandwiches.
One of the first people I saw was a neighbor from down the street. Ray's youngest is in college now. "How's it going?" he asked. "I don't know which end is up," I blurted out. "We've been running from one thing to another all day with the kids!" I must have looked like a mom about to lose it, because Ray looked at me thoughtfully and said. "It's a lot, I know, but it's just like my lawn." I looked at him quizzically, not having the slightest idea what he was talking about. All I could think was I still had shopping to do, dinner to make, and my older son still had a football game. "My wife used to get so angry because our lawn wouldn't grow," Ray continued. "She used to complain that all the kids were always running all over the lawn, and it looked terrible. I told her one day she would miss that." Ray paused and said quietly, "I have a great lawn now."
Oh, sometimes we can't see the forest for the trees. I trip over toys that keep reappearing in areas I've just cleaned, dirty handprints are all over the glass door, and I run from morning till night, doing laundry, making meals, volunteering at school. There are days, as I'm sure you will agree, when you have so much to do that you wish the day was over before it even gets started. Tryng to coordinate schedules and rides, and who needs to get where is a stressful job. But it does sadden me when I realize it won't be forever.
Thanks to a reality check provided by a wise neighbor, at least for a few minutes today, I'm going to go outside and give thanks for that imperfect lawn of mine.
I've always been against overscheduling kids with too many activities, and I honestly don't think my children are involved in too much--separately, that is. The problem lies in having three children who have different things going on, often at the same time! My daughter is involved in the least amount of things, but is always dragged around to her brothers' sporting events. This weekend I felt particularly sorry for her because all she wanted to do was lie on the couch and read. She wanted and needed a day to just relax, which we all could use, but I couldn't give it to her.
Although these activities are fun for the kids, and keep them healthy and active, sometimes it can feel like we live in the car, rushing from one thing to another. Think about it, how many times a day do you say, "hurry up" to your kids? I can't be alone in this. "Hurry up, the bus is coming, Hurry up, put on your cleats, Hurry up, get in the car!" I know I sound like a broken record, and that can't be fun to hear. To top it all off, in between sports, there was food shopping that needed to get done, so I was feeling pretty much like burnt toast when I arrived at the food store to grab the cold cuts for this week's sandwiches.
One of the first people I saw was a neighbor from down the street. Ray's youngest is in college now. "How's it going?" he asked. "I don't know which end is up," I blurted out. "We've been running from one thing to another all day with the kids!" I must have looked like a mom about to lose it, because Ray looked at me thoughtfully and said. "It's a lot, I know, but it's just like my lawn." I looked at him quizzically, not having the slightest idea what he was talking about. All I could think was I still had shopping to do, dinner to make, and my older son still had a football game. "My wife used to get so angry because our lawn wouldn't grow," Ray continued. "She used to complain that all the kids were always running all over the lawn, and it looked terrible. I told her one day she would miss that." Ray paused and said quietly, "I have a great lawn now."
Oh, sometimes we can't see the forest for the trees. I trip over toys that keep reappearing in areas I've just cleaned, dirty handprints are all over the glass door, and I run from morning till night, doing laundry, making meals, volunteering at school. There are days, as I'm sure you will agree, when you have so much to do that you wish the day was over before it even gets started. Tryng to coordinate schedules and rides, and who needs to get where is a stressful job. But it does sadden me when I realize it won't be forever.
Thanks to a reality check provided by a wise neighbor, at least for a few minutes today, I'm going to go outside and give thanks for that imperfect lawn of mine.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Who is that?
For me, it started at around age 37. It was subtle, but I noticed it. You know those lines in your face made by your pillowcase at night? When you are 20, they go away in about an hour. As you get older, it starts taking longer and longer. The first time I realized this sad fact was when my neighbor knocked on the door one day at around noon. The conversation went something like this:
"Sorry to wake you, I need to borrow some sugar," she said.
"I've been up for hours," I responded brightly.
"Oh, right," she said, the whole time staring at my cheek.
When she left, I looked in the mirror. Gasp! Were those the same lines I saw at 8 am this morning?
Since then, new lines and creases seem to pop up every day. I'm obsessed with them. There are times when I am sure my mother is inside my hall mirror, staring back at me. When did this happen? I can be going about my day, feeling young and energized, and boom! I just have to pass my reflection in a store window. Sometimes, I do a double take. "Who is that?" I think to myself. I stare wistfully at my children's firm and taut skin. When I'm really depressed, I'll pull the sides of my face back and say hello to myself--10 years ago! Did you ever see a woman "of age" with a very tight ponytail? Yeah, that's what's she's trying to do as well.
Aging is not glamorous or fun. Society makes women feel that our self-worth is tied in some way to our appearance. Count the commercials for "anti-aging" products during an afternoon show. The models with the flawless skin are demonstrating lotions and potions that lull us with promises of a youthful glow. It is a billion dollar industry. We are told to fight aging with everything we've got, which usually means all the money we've got. Botox, fillers, and facial peels all cost big bucks, and that doesn't even begin to delve into the whole plastic surgery realm.
It is not the same for men, however. I have never seen a commercial that touts a "firming, lifting, sculpting" face cream with men as its target audience. Somehow crow's feet are sexy on a man. It's the old double standard. And thanks to the new digital photography, cropping, and airbrushing, these gray haired men with crow's feet, expect women their own age to look like the flawless women in magazines! Sadly, we've come to expect it ourselves.
Mid-life is tough. We aren't young, but we really aren't old. We are expected to look young until we reach a point when we realize it is no longer possible, I guess.
Will that be giving up? Or will that finally be freedom?
When I was teaching high school, I used to do a poem with the kids entitled, "Warning," by Jenny Joseph. She writes,
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
The speaker of this poem was feeling trapped by all of society's expectations, but it is certainly relevant here. Oh, imagine how liberating it will be when no one expects us to look or act a certain way anymore. Old people can get away with just being who they want to be, and looking the way they naturally look. We don't judge them by the lines in their faces, we just say, "She's old," and accept it, and move on. I have always found this poem fascinating, and I can relate to it more and more each day. I think the key to having others accept it, is first accepting it ourselves, and society makes that extremely difficult.
I don't think I'm ready for my red hat just yet, but I do look forward to that time in my life. For now though, I still have to use up all those lotions and potions in my bathroom drawer before they expire.
"Sorry to wake you, I need to borrow some sugar," she said.
"I've been up for hours," I responded brightly.
"Oh, right," she said, the whole time staring at my cheek.
When she left, I looked in the mirror. Gasp! Were those the same lines I saw at 8 am this morning?
Since then, new lines and creases seem to pop up every day. I'm obsessed with them. There are times when I am sure my mother is inside my hall mirror, staring back at me. When did this happen? I can be going about my day, feeling young and energized, and boom! I just have to pass my reflection in a store window. Sometimes, I do a double take. "Who is that?" I think to myself. I stare wistfully at my children's firm and taut skin. When I'm really depressed, I'll pull the sides of my face back and say hello to myself--10 years ago! Did you ever see a woman "of age" with a very tight ponytail? Yeah, that's what's she's trying to do as well.
Aging is not glamorous or fun. Society makes women feel that our self-worth is tied in some way to our appearance. Count the commercials for "anti-aging" products during an afternoon show. The models with the flawless skin are demonstrating lotions and potions that lull us with promises of a youthful glow. It is a billion dollar industry. We are told to fight aging with everything we've got, which usually means all the money we've got. Botox, fillers, and facial peels all cost big bucks, and that doesn't even begin to delve into the whole plastic surgery realm.
It is not the same for men, however. I have never seen a commercial that touts a "firming, lifting, sculpting" face cream with men as its target audience. Somehow crow's feet are sexy on a man. It's the old double standard. And thanks to the new digital photography, cropping, and airbrushing, these gray haired men with crow's feet, expect women their own age to look like the flawless women in magazines! Sadly, we've come to expect it ourselves.
Mid-life is tough. We aren't young, but we really aren't old. We are expected to look young until we reach a point when we realize it is no longer possible, I guess.
Will that be giving up? Or will that finally be freedom?
When I was teaching high school, I used to do a poem with the kids entitled, "Warning," by Jenny Joseph. She writes,
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
The speaker of this poem was feeling trapped by all of society's expectations, but it is certainly relevant here. Oh, imagine how liberating it will be when no one expects us to look or act a certain way anymore. Old people can get away with just being who they want to be, and looking the way they naturally look. We don't judge them by the lines in their faces, we just say, "She's old," and accept it, and move on. I have always found this poem fascinating, and I can relate to it more and more each day. I think the key to having others accept it, is first accepting it ourselves, and society makes that extremely difficult.
I don't think I'm ready for my red hat just yet, but I do look forward to that time in my life. For now though, I still have to use up all those lotions and potions in my bathroom drawer before they expire.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
We remember
Ten years ago today our world was forever changed. For the past week, the media has inundated us with footage from that day, and stories of the victims and the families they left behind. Many of us can't remember what we ate for lunch yesterday, but we all know exactly where we were that fateful morning. I had just dropped my oldest at his first day of pre-school. I came home to a phone call from my husband, telling me to turn on the television. As I watched the events unfold with my one year old daughter sleeping next to me, I remember feeling a sense of panic and helplessness that I'd never felt before. I looked up at the beautiful, clear sky and couldn't comprehend how something so sinister was happening only 20 miles away.
As a mother, I thought immediately of going right back to that school and getting my son. I also felt that I needed to buy a lot of milk. My husband convinced me to leave the boy in school so I didn't frighten him, but I did buy about 7 gallons of milk. Much like when we prepare for a snowstorm or hurricane, I felt the need to stock up on necessities. I didn't know what would happen next, and I was scared.
Remember how eerie it felt to not hear any planes for several days? Remember how scary it was to hear them again when they resumed flying? For weeks, the sound of a plane made me cringe.
Of course, the horrific stories and images were countered by heroic ones. People stepped up, helped out in countless ways, and came together in the face of tragedy. Lines between races and religions were blurred, and we became united as Americans. Parents hugged their children tighter, wives and husbands counted their blessings, we all stopped sweating the small stuff, and truly understood what was important in our lives. The world became a better place--for a little while, anyway.
Because we are human, we eventually got back to our daily routines-we started honking our horns again, and cutting people off. We complained when the toilet seat was left up, and got annoyed with the slow cashier at the store. We lost that incredible feeling of unity that surfaced when our wounds were fresh.
I have heard some people complain that the 9-11 coverage is overkill. It is too depressing, and too much to see again. I don't know how the families of the victims feel about that, but I'm sure their feelings on the subject vary from person to person. I can only tell you how I felt as I watched a documentary the other night with the pre-schooler I dropped off that historic morning. He is now 14, and it was a school assignment. To say it was upsetting is an understatement. All of my kids were watching, and they were shocked and frightened by what they saw. How many times have your kids watched a scary show, and you have said, "Don't worry, that's make-believe," or "That can't really happen."? The younger one looked at me, and I knew he wanted me to say it. I felt helpless as a parent at that moment. I had never forgotten what happened that day, but I forgot how it made me feel. The feelings of dread and terror came rushing back all at once.
Perhaps if we all remember the feelings we had, not just the event itself, we could get back to a place where we felt that unity again. We shouldn't need a tragedy to be kind to a stranger, to help out someone in need, or be a better person. In honor of everyone who lost their life or lost a loved one that day, I'm asking you to join me in taking a moment to remember the feeling, and think about what is truly important in your life.
God Bless America
As a mother, I thought immediately of going right back to that school and getting my son. I also felt that I needed to buy a lot of milk. My husband convinced me to leave the boy in school so I didn't frighten him, but I did buy about 7 gallons of milk. Much like when we prepare for a snowstorm or hurricane, I felt the need to stock up on necessities. I didn't know what would happen next, and I was scared.
Remember how eerie it felt to not hear any planes for several days? Remember how scary it was to hear them again when they resumed flying? For weeks, the sound of a plane made me cringe.
Of course, the horrific stories and images were countered by heroic ones. People stepped up, helped out in countless ways, and came together in the face of tragedy. Lines between races and religions were blurred, and we became united as Americans. Parents hugged their children tighter, wives and husbands counted their blessings, we all stopped sweating the small stuff, and truly understood what was important in our lives. The world became a better place--for a little while, anyway.
Because we are human, we eventually got back to our daily routines-we started honking our horns again, and cutting people off. We complained when the toilet seat was left up, and got annoyed with the slow cashier at the store. We lost that incredible feeling of unity that surfaced when our wounds were fresh.
I have heard some people complain that the 9-11 coverage is overkill. It is too depressing, and too much to see again. I don't know how the families of the victims feel about that, but I'm sure their feelings on the subject vary from person to person. I can only tell you how I felt as I watched a documentary the other night with the pre-schooler I dropped off that historic morning. He is now 14, and it was a school assignment. To say it was upsetting is an understatement. All of my kids were watching, and they were shocked and frightened by what they saw. How many times have your kids watched a scary show, and you have said, "Don't worry, that's make-believe," or "That can't really happen."? The younger one looked at me, and I knew he wanted me to say it. I felt helpless as a parent at that moment. I had never forgotten what happened that day, but I forgot how it made me feel. The feelings of dread and terror came rushing back all at once.
Perhaps if we all remember the feelings we had, not just the event itself, we could get back to a place where we felt that unity again. We shouldn't need a tragedy to be kind to a stranger, to help out someone in need, or be a better person. In honor of everyone who lost their life or lost a loved one that day, I'm asking you to join me in taking a moment to remember the feeling, and think about what is truly important in your life.
God Bless America
Friday, September 9, 2011
Whatif?
My daughter came home from school with a poem by the great Shel Silverstein yesterday. It was entitled, "Whatif?" and it really hit home. The speaker, a child, gets the "Whatifs?" (worries) during the night when there is ample time to think. For example, "Whatif nobody likes me? Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?" The list goes on and on. I laughed when I read it, because, as I told my daughter, I could be the speaker of the poem, just substitute different worries. And I'm sure I'm not the only one.
Do you ever wake up in the middle of the night, and since there isn't much else going on, start to worry? Oh, I know you've been there. Somehow in the darkness of night, staring up at the ceiling, the smallest problem becomes magnified. It is very easy to allow our minds to wander and go places it shouldn't.
I am the Queen of worrying at night. Sometimes I will listen to my husband's breathing, and then worry that it may stop. I have actually sobbed over this in bed (while trying not to wake him, of course!), and imagined how lonely I would be. Another time, when I had a tingling feeling in my arm, I was certain I had a very terrible disease. I think I planned my own funeral during that sleepless night! I worry about mundane things such as if I remembered to pay the electric bill, and if I have enough sandwich stuff for the kids' lunches the next day. I worry about the more important issues as well, such as if I have provided my kids with a happy childhood, and how much longer my parents will live.
Then, after hours of tossing and turning and worrying, the sun starts to peek through the blinds. I stretch and get out of bed, and curse myself for having wasted what could have been a great night's sleep. Suddenly, the the things I worried about don't have as much power over me. It is easy to think of solutions in the light of day. Life is good again! If only I had a solution to these dark circles under my eyes!!
What do you worry about when darkness falls?
Do you ever wake up in the middle of the night, and since there isn't much else going on, start to worry? Oh, I know you've been there. Somehow in the darkness of night, staring up at the ceiling, the smallest problem becomes magnified. It is very easy to allow our minds to wander and go places it shouldn't.
I am the Queen of worrying at night. Sometimes I will listen to my husband's breathing, and then worry that it may stop. I have actually sobbed over this in bed (while trying not to wake him, of course!), and imagined how lonely I would be. Another time, when I had a tingling feeling in my arm, I was certain I had a very terrible disease. I think I planned my own funeral during that sleepless night! I worry about mundane things such as if I remembered to pay the electric bill, and if I have enough sandwich stuff for the kids' lunches the next day. I worry about the more important issues as well, such as if I have provided my kids with a happy childhood, and how much longer my parents will live.
Then, after hours of tossing and turning and worrying, the sun starts to peek through the blinds. I stretch and get out of bed, and curse myself for having wasted what could have been a great night's sleep. Suddenly, the the things I worried about don't have as much power over me. It is easy to think of solutions in the light of day. Life is good again! If only I had a solution to these dark circles under my eyes!!
What do you worry about when darkness falls?
Thursday, September 8, 2011
You can't stop time
As many of you also did this week, I sent my three kids off to school for a brand new year. This was an especially emotional time for me, as I sent two of them to new schools. My daughter started middle school, and my oldest son, high school. While I know that the schools are great, and I truly feel that they will both do well, I can't help but think about what this means for me. How I am old enough to have a child entering high school is beyond my comprehension, and a bit unsettling. I really feel that the countdown to college has begun. My happiest times are when my kids are all together, and we are doing family things. With the onset of high school, I realize those days are numbered, and family life as I know and cherish it, will inevitably come to an end.
Thankfully, I still have a second grader to keep me from feeling truly "over the hill," but I am hearing the ticking of the clock louder than ever, and I desperately want to make the most of the time we do still have together. Sometimes when I look at them, I begin to sob. They always roll their eyes at me, and say, "Why are you crying NOW, Mom?" I always tell them that things won't always be this way, with all of us together, and that makes me sad. They hug me, which makes me cry harder, and then go on their way. It is what they are supposed to do, and will continue to do for the rest of their lives. It will mean I have done my job well. Ironic, isn't it? I still don't have to like it.
Thankfully, I still have a second grader to keep me from feeling truly "over the hill," but I am hearing the ticking of the clock louder than ever, and I desperately want to make the most of the time we do still have together. Sometimes when I look at them, I begin to sob. They always roll their eyes at me, and say, "Why are you crying NOW, Mom?" I always tell them that things won't always be this way, with all of us together, and that makes me sad. They hug me, which makes me cry harder, and then go on their way. It is what they are supposed to do, and will continue to do for the rest of their lives. It will mean I have done my job well. Ironic, isn't it? I still don't have to like it.
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