Appreciation: Tough Teacher

Well...it's finally here...tomorrow is the last day of school. I always face this day with mixed emotions. The overpowering emotion is “Yay, we can sleep in!”. But underneath is a sadness that my kids are getting older. Another year is gone. They are growing up so fast and learning so much. Am I teaching them and enjoying them as much as I can? Alongside these ambivalent feelings, I have a deep gratitude for what their teachers have contributed to their growth this year.

Luke and his teacher.

After a year of reminding Luke to be “much neater” his cursive is (finally) legible. When I took this picture, Luke said: “Hey, when you kneel down I'm taller than you” to which his teacher replied, “I'm still tougher.” :)

We have been blessed with devoted teachers. I can honestly say that I appreciate every teacher my children have had. It's not just that I appreciate the break from my sweet children for hours on end (although, I do appreciate that). I feel like my children are learning and growing under their leadership. I love watching my third grader name all the bridges in Portland and then give an explanation of truss engineering and counterweights. I love to hear my kindergartener explain what oviparous animals are and then try to trick me with her superior knowledge of hatching baby chicks. My fifth grader can show me his power point presentation about the Revolutionary War and then explain how it's similar to the 2011 revolution in Egypt. Teachers invest their time and energy into opening up the world for my children. They are guides on a voyage of discovery and I am grateful for their partnership.

Now it's my turn...I always think of Mom as the most important teacher. There is much work to be done. My classroom is the home, the neighborhood, and the beach. I plan to encourage summer reading, work on a few math skills (thank you Khan Academy), and enjoy my conversations with these lovely little people. Thanks for the great year, teachers. Happy summer to all!

Bedtime Stories

“You may have tangible wealth untold;

Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold.

Richer than I you will never be--

I had a mother who read to me.” 

 --Strickland W. Gillan

 

I'm a big believer in the nurturing value of bedtime stories. I can still remember the cozy feeling of being snuggled next to my own mother as she read aloud to me. I know this is where I learned to love reading. It's an official part of our bedtime routine. It's a great way to help the kids relax and settle down. I started when they were young with baby books and now we mostly read chapter books. I have covered thousands of pages across many genres. I had one embarrassing moment at the library when I was told the limit was 100 books and I need to put some back. I think it has helped with their schooling. One of these days I will share some of my favorite children's books. But mostly, I do it because I feel like they are tucked in with love every night when we connect at the end of a day by sharing a story.

A Letter to my Mother

Dear Mom:

I just wanted to tell you I miss you. I miss calling you and getting the
recipe for the ham and cheese casserole. I miss seeing your smiling face
when I would come over to visit you. People from your book groups still
tell me how much they miss your insights and wisdom. People at church tell
me they miss seeing you every week.

Most of all, Dad misses you. He has been a crying mess since you left. He
cries whenever your name comes up. This from a tough businessman Dad who
never used to cry. I asked Dad recently what he enjoys doing the most. With
teary eyes, he said, "Thinking about Mom." Now that Dad is on his own
deathbed, he has seemed more peaceful. I think he is looking forward to
seeing someone he has loved and been married to for 48 years now. He was a
wreck last year celebrating your anniversary without you.

You were always there for me at basketball, football games, choir concerts,
etc. I remember being 13 and thinking, "I have the coolest Mom in the
world! She is a sports nut! She loves going to football, baseball and
basketball games and she even watches them on TV sometimes!" When I got to
be 19 and in college out of state, I remember asking you about the Blazers.
You had no clue how they were doing and then it all hit me like a ton of
bricks. You cared about sports as much as I care about playing dolls with
my daughters. But if you ask me the names of my daughters' dolls, I could
tell you every one of them. I'm sure you are proud of me.

I remember holding your hand on your deathbed last year and looking at your
angelic face. I thanked you for always being there for me and I spent about
an hour telling you how much your presence and support meant over the
years. You were a stay at home Mom and all you cared about was our family.
I didn't know it at the time, but I always had my own one person fan club.

The fascinating thing to me is that you treated all nine of us like we were
always the special one. I always got all the attention from you that I
needed. On the day you died, my brother Bill said that he thought he was
always your favorite son. Then my brother Rob corrected him and said he
thought he was your favorite. Then we figured out that you loved all of us
the "most" in an unconditional way.

I miss that my children will never really know you. Little Jessie is three
now and when we drove by the hospital last week that you died at, she said,
"That's where Grandma Judy lives." I am sad that you won't be able to teach
any of my children how to play the piano. I'm sad that you won't be able to
come to my kids' schools on "Grandparents Day." But I will be always be
able to tell my girls how much Grandma Judy loved seeing them.

As you know, Amanda (my wife) will be having our third next month. We're
having a boy this time. I'm sure that you know him well and that this baby
will let us know how much you love and miss us.

Mom, carrying your casket up that hill on that rainy windy day last year
was so ironic. Here were these seven large (we're all between 6' and 6'4)
grown men carrying the casket of their beloved Mother. After all, it was
you who first carried each of us and then carried us so many times
throughout our lives.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom.

Love, your son, Craig

*This was a letter my husband, Craig, wrote in May 2001 for a contest on the radio.  His mother had died 2 years earlier of breast cancer.  He won front row tickets to a concert at the Rose Garden...I can't even remember who the singer was.  I was 8 months pregnant, so I guess my brain wasn't fully functioning.  Judy has been gone for 12 years and we still miss her. 

Kids Doing Housework = Harder than it Sounds

Need help with housework?  Check this out...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8uU3gsSW4EI&feature=share&fb_source=message

Another excellent resource for ideas:

powerofmoms.com

She set the table all by herself. :)

Inspiration

Does what we look at really matter? Do the images our children see affect who they are? I think so.

A few years ago, when my oldest started middle school, I felt like she was growing up fast. In a good way, but it was still scary for Mom. I wanted to be there and remind her of who she is and the potential she has for good. But I couldn't be there all the time. I decided some inspiration was needed.

Together, we started collecting little encouraging sayings, and handouts and even kind notes from her friends into a wall collage above her bed. She was totally on board with the project. I don't know what the measurable effect is for encouragement. But I do know it makes a powerful visual statement when her friends come over and see her walls. It's a lot of little reminders of what being an awesome teenager looks like...and she is awesome.

To leave the world a bit better

Oh give me patience when wee hands
Tug at me with their small demands.
And give me gentle and smiling eyes.
Keep my lips from hasty replies.

And let not weariness, confusion or noise
Obscure my vision of life's fleeting joys.
So when, in years to come my house is still
No bitter memories its rooms may fill.
(unknown)

What is success?

To laugh often and much;

To win the respect of intelligent people

and the affection of children;

To earn the appreciation of honest critics

and endure the betrayal of false friends;

To appreciate beauty;

To find the best in others;

To leave the world a bit better, whether by

a healthy child, a garden patch

or a redeemed social condition;

To know even one life has breathed

easier because you have lived;

This is to have succeeded.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Courage

Sometimes, courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says, "I'll try again tomorrow" - Mary Anne Radmacher

A few weeks after my 4^th child was born he caught pneumonia and was barely breathing. I called the doctor and was instructed to quickly rush him to the emergency room. It was faster to drive than to wait for an ambulance. I bundled my baby up and took him out into the cold, dark winter night. I was half-way across town before it dawned on me that I had never actually been to the pediatric hospital and didn't know quite where it was. I got off on the wrong exit and was winding through bad neighborhoods. I kept looking back to make sure my baby was still breathing, looking ahead hoping to see the hospital, and looking inside myself for the answer to the dangerous mess I was in. I didn't know what to do, but I knew I couldn't give up.

This experience inspired me. It serves as a metaphor for motherhood itself. I know where I want to lead my family, but sometimes I'm not exactly sure how to get there. No one can tell me every step in raising children. I look to my past experiences, I look ahead following the examples of other mothers, and I look inside myself. Sometimes, I'm a bit lost, but I'm inspired to not give up.

Mosh pit?  or Happy family?

Music Practice
Charts, schedules, payments, rewards?  What are the best ways to get consistent practice?  I'm going to try a new way this week.  Sitting down next to them and watching their practice.  Maybe this extra attention will help the "spring fever" that is afflicting our musical rehearsals.

What I learned from the tent

Last summer, I took the kids to the pool. We had a loong summer afternoon together and I came home and wanted to take a shower by myself. I figured my best chance to get a moment of peace was to set up the tent so they would have something to occupy them. The tent proved harder to set up than I thought. My husband came home from work a few hours later and I was still in my swimsuit, in the front yard, with tent mess all over. Five children were very busy “helping” me. I could tell by the smile on his face that he thought this was amusing. He asked me if it seemed a bit trashy to set up a tent in the FRONT yard in my swimsuit. It was then that I realized that I had become THAT mother. The one that doesn't care what other people think. Not because I have no social graces, but because I care so much more about what the five adorable children think.

Fam

The hardest job in the world is also the best job in the world. Thank you, Mom.

How I want to live

“I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly [styled], with long, perfectly manicured fingernails. I want to drive up in a [mini-van] that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbors children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden. I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived.” - M. Hinckley