Category Archives: Family

Celebrate giving up

October 16, 2015Celebrate, Family, Reflections on teachingonathought

This post is part of Ruth Ayres Celebrate Link up. Thanks, Ruth for this great opportunity to celebrate!

You are having 
one 
of 
those 
days

Those
Fridays

Rammy kids
you don't blame them 
Such great kids
you make them popcorn, read aloud and
tell them you'll try your best to be patient
ask them to try their best not to try your patience

You have lunch duty
then forget to make calls
get caught in too many conversations
You have bus duty
bus duty is it's own poem one day
You stay after school to grade
you wonder how many times you didn't put your name on papers when you were 11
You text your husband at 5:00
"I'm bringing the rest of my work home." 

At home you straighten up and do dishes and maybe have a little tantrum about the mess and the stress and are you getting a cold, and why is everyone hungry right when you get home does the cat need food right now too and how are you going to do all the laundry and pack all of the moving boxes and do all that work you brought home?

Then your son makes dinner for himself, his brother, his sister

You feel guilty and tell him as much
What kind of parent doesn't have dinner figured out? Grow up!

"Mommy, you make wonderful dinners every night! This is your break." 

You know this is something to celebrate
this sweetness

So you give up
you put your pajamas on 
chill out

You should have given up 2 hours ago!

10474678_1088982864459193_1684130368190575286_n — Found on Single Dad Laughing Facebook page

Celebrate. . . New Beginnings

October 9, 2015Celebrate, Familyonathought

This post is part of Ruth Ayres Celebrate Link up. Thanks, Ruth for this great opportunity to celebrate!

I’m not so good at changes. When I taught centers in second grade, I’d sing “Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes” and then my para would sing “Turn and face the strange!” and the kids would switch. On my very last day of teaching 2nd grade, my alarm woke me up singing “Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes; Turn and face the strange…” and I started sobbing. I also sobbed as the kids left that day, and most likely traumatized all of those 8 year olds! However, the next school year I was snug in my classroom as a 6th grade teacher with the amazing team that I still teach with today. I don’t know what I’d do without them. I try to remind myself of this whenever change is afoot; that celebrations are coming!

There’s not enough wood to knock, Kinehoras to mutter, lucky clovers to find, Buddah bellies to rub for me to start celebrating a move we may be making in the near future. If hoops get jumped through, t’s get crossed, i’s get dotted… I might soon start walking to school, and it’s possible we will need a few pieces of furniture.

Regardless of whether or not I’ve started looking on Pinterest for things like “DIY fireplace redo” and “moving checklists,” I’m simply not ready to celebrate. I am keeping myself in check. If it doesn’t work out (that move we might be doing soon, knock on wood) it wasn’t meant to be, and everything will be okay. It’s not like I love the house or anything. (I’m lying. Knock on wood.)

What I can celebrate is: The people who are about to move into my house. I don’t know if they are anything like what we were like when Mr. Thought and I were in our early twenties, getting ready to move into our first house (this one! this very house!) but I’m going to assume there must be some similarities. I wonder if they drive by with dreams of paint colors and furniture. Are they planting gardens in their mind and boring all their friends with their plans for funky decorations? Are they saving their pennies for closing (wait, that never changes.. we’re doing the same right now!)

What I can celebrate is: All we have done to this house. When we moved here, the paint was peeling, and everything was a very odd shade of green. There were so many little holes in the walls, and the living room ceiling bowed in the middle. There was no split system air conditioner, or newly renovated kitchen. The kitchen in fact, had contact paper countertops. (Which I didn’t notice until we actually moved in!) The wiring was knob and tube! You could feel cold air blowing through the walls and the old wooden windows. There was only one bathroom… and oh…the bathroom! It was purple with crazy wallpaper, a very small claw foot tub, and exposed pipes. No exhaust fan meant that weird bathroom dust was always clinging to the walls, and behind those pipes. The painted wooden floor was quaint until you tried to clean it.

What I can celebrate is: Change. We’ve made guest rooms into craft rooms into offices into nurseries, into bedrooms. We’ve made closets into nurseries and bathrooms. We’ve made bathrooms into laundry rooms and laundry rooms into pantries. We’ve made living room walls into libraries. We’ve made a house a home. Now we are about to make a huge change… (maybe, knock on wood, where’s the four leaf clover?) and I choose to celebrate this crazy time!

A Slice of Letting Go

September 22, 2015Family, Slice of Lifechoices, Slice of Lifeonathought

This is part of Two Writing Teachers’ Slice of Life. Find out more, and join in here!

Home. It’s where the heart is. Home is where your family is. It’s certainly not the big box you keep all your furniture in, right?

Let go. This is my mantra these days, as we have gotten our house ready to sell.

I said it to myself as I boxed up, threw out, gave away stuff. I said it as we staged the house, making it look like we would never in a million years leave legos all over the floor, or crumbs on the counter, or clutter on the dining room table, or laundry in the washer.

Let go. I said it as I stood outside in my green backyard next to my apple tree, painting the last of a few doors that needed to be finished. I repeated it as I looked at the view of mountains and blue sky.

I say it each time I ask my husband to remind me why we decided to move. (We need more space, it’s time to move closer to my school, it’s good for the kids in the long run, it’s best for our family. Repeat after me; We need more space, it’s time to move closer to my school, it’s good for the kids in the long run, it’s best for our family…)

Let go: As we turned on all the lights, put never-used white towels on hooks, never-used tablecloth on the table, never-used throw pillows, for showings and open houses; and as we took all those things off again. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat, each time we ushered kids out of the house.

I remind myself to let go when I tell L that, “Moving is hard. And, we can do hard things.” I also remind myself that deciding to move when your daughter is 12 is maybe not the best decision.

Let go: As we initialed 20 times accepting an offer.

Now I sit in my dining room. It’s pleasant. It’s clean. There’s no clutter. (Well, a little has crept back on shelves and the coffee table, corners…. if you know where to look, to be honest) Our personal pictures are packed away from the staging, and Mr. Thought tells me this is good. We are slowly letting go of this being our home.

So I work to let go. I focus on the positives.We finally made the decision to move after years of debate, and we followed through! We had a fast sale! (Well, knock on wood… still lots of hoops to jump through, t’s to cross, i’s to dot…) We are blessed with the chance to get a house that fits our family better! A new young couple gets to start their life in this great house, in this wonderful neighborhood! It feels good to think about their excitement.

But, I still tear up when I talk about it, and it’s still hard for me to think about this not being our home.

A Slice of people watching: Middle Son Edition

July 7, 2015Family, Slice of Life, TeachersWritechildhood, Slice of Life, TeachersWriteonathought

. . . and. . .

Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers. Head over there for info and links to more Slicing! Today’s slice inspired by today’s prompt on #TeachersWrite

I’m driving and my attention is on the road, but with three kids in the backseat, my rearview mirror glances award me more than a road view. I’m watching you. You are joking with your sister and brother. I hear you. Your laughter is a delight. You are funny, but your words quickly become cutting. I don’t know why. Your little brother is growing a thick skin. I give you reminders to be kind, and tell you to stop. And then I watch as you decide to put your hands out your window. All I see is your hands raised to the sky, and I know that feeling: the air pushing on you, the wind so loud. Your hair is blowing from your face, and I wonder what is happening in your mind. I’m hoping you are feeling peaceful with the white noise, and the chance to let go of impulse control and just breathe. The next time I glance back you have a water bottle hanging out of the window too, and you are experimenting with drops. They are falling out of the bottle directly into the car. You have invented a misting air conditioner, and nobody else in the backseat seems to mind. I wonder about the water since I can’t see it leaving the bottle, but I can see it on your face and hair, and I can hear your brother and sister laugh as you say “Our own rainstorm!” I’m proud of myself. I smile at your antics, and your joy. Checking myself, I don’t feel an urge to have you stop.

We turn down the road that leads to the coffee shop, and suddenly your brother and sister complain loudly, “Ugh!” and “He dumped the rest of his slushy out the window!” and “It’s all over the car!”

I’m annoyed, and I’m sure the drive through barista thought it was weird, but that’s okay. I decided that it’s no big deal. My annoyance is easily forgotten if I just picture you: hands out the window, hair blowing in the breeze.

Slices: Bikes, rides, and getting back on

June 23, 2015Family, Slice of Lifechildhood, Slice of Lifeonathought

Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers. Head over there for info and links to more Slicing!

It’s a long story, why everyone needed a bike at the same time –Why we ended up at the store even after other, more sustainable, cheaper options were suggested. But that’s where we were. All the other shoppers looked at me like I was crazy – buying 4 bikes at once. I wanted to explain to each evil eye: “My bike was stolen 2 years ago! My daughter’s bike is too small and broken! My 8 year old has been riding my hand me down bike for 2 years! It has no gears! My 5 year old tried a goodwill bike last year and it wouldn’t pedal, and the training wheels bent…” But instead, I smiled and laughed at us… the kids riding their bikes to the checkout, me wheeling mine while I shouted after them.

“Be careful! Slow down!”

Even the woman ringing up our purchase seemed mad. I told her that the Assembler had told us my youngest son’s bike was $50, not $80. Even after her manager gave her the go ahead to charge us $49.95, she scoffed at us, annoyed, I guess, that I was getting a better bargain on my smallest bike purchase.

The next day we strapped our bikes on to the van, and headed to a nearby bike path with my sister, Aunt Awesomeness. After a small mishap of using the bike rack incorrectly (Note: don’t strap it to the window!) we were on our way. Aunt Awesomeness kept up with the big kids while I followed E. He was a trooper for 5 whole miles on his training wheels, and this is the true slice I want to remember: My bike ride with E.

I tried not to bump into him when he slowed down, and I tried to limit my yelling of “Be careful!” as much as possible. I tried to teach him how to use his brakes on the downhills, and how to keep pedaling on the uphills. I tried not to scream as he gained speed going down the steep parts, and not to cry when he fell. I told him it was okay to fall, and that he needed to get back on. (I only took a picture of the fall after he was okay. I promise.)

I breathed it in: the beautiful day and his little voice calling to me from his bike:

“This uses energy!”

“Is this exercise?”

“This isn’t motorized so it didn’t use gas.”

“Doesn’t this feel like we are going across the country? And I’m not even thirsty yet!”

….(5 minutes later…) “I need a break. I’m thirsty.”

“Did you see me going down that hill? It’s as fun as LEGOS! Even funner.”

#sol15 March 30 Complaints

March 30, 2015Family, Reflections on teaching, Slice of Lifeonathought

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March. You should do it too! Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!

Feeling Complain-y today… And since I’m dreaming of ordering this T-Shirt…. I figured I may as well write some poetry. 🙂

My skin, dry 
my house, a mess
my email?
A load of stress

My work, piled
high at school
While I'm at home,
a sleepy fool

My grades, due
My daughter has a cold
Laundry, clean but
I still have to fold

My nose, stuffy
I need to file a nail
Students owe me work
Please don't let them fail

My computer, wonky
It has a mind of its own
Making it hard for me
to do work, not groan

April, I need some time 
A meditation, a rest
But what will I get?
A standardized test

#sol15 March 29 Flashback

March 29, 2015Familyonathought

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March. You should do it too! Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!

My daughter is on the couch with 100.4° temperature, miserable with a cold. I am trying to quickly clean the bathroom. She calls me and I yell “Hold on! I just want to finish this and I’ll be right there.”

As I finish scrubbing, my mind goes to a day years and years ago when I was doing dishes and my son kept calling my name over and over and over. I don’t remember the exact reason I was at my wits end with the whining and neediness. I do remember I said something like “Stop! Stop whining, ‘mommy.’ Hold on! I need to finish the dishes, and then I’ll be there!”

I think I had to repeat it because he called me again. And again. I finally walked to the living room, most likely with my eyes wide, my eyebrows up in annoyance at my 3 year old. (I think he was about 3, maybe 4). That’s when I noticed that there was a man on my porch, knocking on the screen door. That’s when I remembered that a psychology professor was coming to meet with my husband about a video project.

“I think he was trying to tell you I was here,” the professor said. I noticed (or imagined) a hint of raised eyebrows, incredulous that a mother could be so daft.

I don’t know why I’m thinking of this old story — I’m not annoyed that my sick daughter needs my help. My mind tries to make sense of my flashback, perhaps it was just my words: “Hold on!” that brought it back. I wonder if the professor was judging my lack of mothering skills, or if it was just me. I wonder how many times I judge someone’s comments or actions without thinking about what they may have just been dealing with. It’s been a long time since that day, but if I met that man again, I would still have the urge to defend myself. I would still want to say, “Yea, I was a great parent too… before I had kids.”

#sol15 March 28 Home

March 28, 2015Family, Slice of Lifeonathought

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March. You should do it too! Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!

#sol15 March 24 Sometimes

March 24, 2015Family, Slice of Lifeonathought

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March. You should do it too! Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!

Sometimes.

Sometimes, you let your kids have “Make your own sandwich night” for the second night in a row. Sometimes you let them watch a show on a weeknight. Sometimes you don’t even stop to clean up the toys (or ask them to.)

Because, sometimes you have a meeting after school, and errands after that. Sometimes you have to pack for a conference, and finish sub plans. Sometimes you are starting to get a cold and you are trying to fight it off.

Sometimes your slice is just that, a slice of sometimes.

#sol15 March 22 Strangers

March 22, 2015Family, Slice of Lifeonathought

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March. You should do it too! Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!

We walk into the science center party about 5 or 10 minutes late, and I search for the hostess. I have no idea what she looks like, and only two or three guests are familiar to me. All the faces around me look serious, stern, busy. So many strangers.

A 5 year old’s birthday party can be a stressful place to be. We finally find the hostess, or at least I think it must be her. She’s holding a present, and talking to someone else. She introduces herself to me with an “Oh, you must be E’s mom?” I’ll get to hear a lot of that this afternoon. “E’s mom” is a nice label to have, it’s just odd not to know anybody. The entire room is full of so many strangers.

I focus on E, and playing. The science center is a fun place that we don’t get to often. We sit at the magnet block table, and as he builds a house, I tell him I want to make a two story house. A little boy walks over and asks to play. “I want to build a Toy Story house too!” he grins. At least kid strangers are cute. He walks away distracted by a friend, and Evan smiles at me, “A Toy Story house instead of a two story house? He must be too young to know the difference.” We got up and walked to the party room, through so many strangers.

I think, when H was in preschool, I knew everyone. For a year and a half, I was home with baby E, able to volunteer at the school, stop and chat in the parking lot, and attend events. I was a co-chair on the board so I was very involved. I knew the kids, I knew the parents, I knew the siblings. It felt comfortable and friendly. I’m good with comfortable and friendly. I’m not so good with so many strangers.

After we walk into the party room, a mom looks at me and asks, “Are you E’s mom? He’s so sweet. I love him! He plays so nicely with everyone.” I can’t even reciprocate the comment with one about her children, because although I caught her mentioning twins, and I noticed when she pointed them out at the party table… I don’t know what to say about them! They’re cute? Well behaved for the last 3 minutes that I have been aware of them? So I smile and laugh with her as we watch the kids make shark tooth necklaces. I find myself wondering which of these parents would be my friend if I were a staple around the preschool this year? And, I find myself remembering my old preschool mom friends from years past. Some I still keep in contact with on Facebook, or see out and about, but others have moved, or moved on. I miss those familiar faces as I look around at so many strangers.

Most days I am chill about my work schedule. I mean, aside from being busy and crazy. And, aside from never having enough time. . . and most of all aside from missing my kids during the day (and wondering why the people I love the most in the world and I spend most of our days separated.) But, most days, the nitty gritty of the schedule doesn’t bother me. I’m okay that I don’t do school drop offs, or pick ups. I’m okay that Mr. Thought is the one to do field trip chaperoning, and that I have to take personal days if I want to attend special performances. But I feel bad, guilty, and off as I look around at so many strangers.

Some people must be good at this party thing. They must make small talk, and jokes, and not be stuck inside their head, wondering what the other people think of them: the mother who is never at preschool. To them, I’m the stranger!