Literacy ... a new chapter

Part of Gavin’s “daily homework” is an optional reading chart to tally each time he reads 15 minutes. Each night, we gather our “Bob First” books or our Dr. Seuss books and begin our endeavor. Since beginning this two weeks ago, I am profoundly AMAZED at his reading progress. I freely admit that we took the summer off from almost everything educational and intellectual, so he may have been a bit behind the curve entering First Grade this year. When I saw his yearly list of Spelling words, I nearly hyperventilated looking at words like “everything” “python” and “another” he is supposed to master by year’s end, not realizing he begins with words like “rat” “crab” and “raft.” The idea is to gradually build on concepts and simple memorization to counteract some of the English language EXCEPTIONS to every logical phonetic and grammar rule - I had forgotten that whole BASIC part of school. Listening to him read as of late, I have no doubt he will be ready for the 3 and 4 syllable words coming this Spring.

What I didn’t count on was how much this reading practice and this damn “becoming literate” would change MY LIFE

You see, this evening, we were reading a Magic Treehouse book Gavin chose from the library last week. This book is no less than 150 pages long, so I gave Gavin a reading breather this evening and decided to be storyteller myself in order to crank out 30 pages or so in one sitting. As I was reading at auctioneer pace, Gavin stopped me.
Gavin: Mom, you forgot ‘Yes’
Me: What?
Gavin: (pointing) Right there. It says, ‘yes.’ You didn’t read it.
Shit.
Me: Sure I did. It says, ‘yes, we saw you.’
Gavin: No, It says ‘yes, he.’
I read it again – (“Yes,” he said, “we saw you.”) Damn this little bugger was right. You see, I often omit the ‘he saids,’ and other unimportant phrases and words when I read to the kids in order to get back to blogging speed things along. Kind of like you do in your head when you read.
Me: Oh. Sorry. Thanks, Gavin.
Double Shit.

You realize of course, this means I can no longer lie and tell him the sign says “No running and yelling” at the grocery store. Or that the restaurant menu says “Kids have to eat all their dinner to get dessert.”

Soon, he is going to realize I am being cheap at the checkout line for not buying the $.50 candy bar when he starts to comprehend currency and math.

* sigh *

KEEP BELIEVING

I know this woman. I wish you could, too.

I know this woman. I wish you could know her, too. This woman is amazing.

This woman grew up in a very poor household with 11 kids. She was exactly the middle child.

This woman worked harder and did more chores in her first 18 years of life than her future children would probably EVER do in their lifetimes.

This woman was the daughter of a mother that never told her she loved her. She was the daughter of a father who was an alcoholic.

This woman LITERALLY walked several miles to get to school through many fields and farms smelling like cow dung and chicken coups from the morning chores she had to finish before school started.

This woman had to sneak to go to high school dances and basketball games in high school when her dad didn’t notice because he didn’t want them going out to that school. It was in a county he didn’t like. Never mind that where he lived dictated his children attended that school.

This woman shared an upstairs bedroom without heat and air conditioning in Missouri with several sisters. They sometimes slept three to a bed. Sometimes just for fun. Sometimes to keep warm.

When she was 19, she discovered she was pregnant. Her mother’s encouraging words to her were, “you made your bed, now lie in it.” And with that, she had to figure out what to do. Her boyfriend proposed, and they married in February. It snowed. They had their first baby in July.

This woman and her new husband moved away from the only state and town she had ever really known to Texas. She was homesick. She was lonely. She was scared. They made it work. Because that is what you did in the 60s and early 70s. You worked at things and made them succeed. She would teach this to her children.

After 10 years of marriage, three kids and three states, they moved back to Missouri to her husband’s company’s headquarters.

This woman worked part time when it worked out with kids and school. She was a “lunch lady” for a few years at some local public schools. She eventually went on to become a shipping clerk working hard filling orders, taking care of salespeople, and slipping in care packages to her kids in college.

This woman mourned the days when school started in September. She loved summers home with the kids. She enjoyed the sound of laughter and the mere presence of her children despite the constant sibling rivalry and ensuing feuds between them.

This woman demanded respect and responsibility and consequences from her children. They had chores. They were to help. She frequently reminded them of how good they had it and despite their constant eye rolls and condescending looks, they were listening. They would remember and one day appreciate what she was doing in them. The thankless job she was performing would pay off. I like to think it would anyway.

This woman and her husband bought some property in the town where the both grew up. A town in the middle of rural Southeast Missouri. Her husband would gradually convince her they should retire here in rural Southeast Missouri a bit against her will. She learned to love the country again – the open space, the animals, the fishing, the peace.

This woman and her husband lived on an Engineer’s salary for many years with her meager supplement from her part time employment. They put their kids in private Catholic school for all 12 years. They put three kids through college with their hard earned money. They did all of this and STILL retired when her husband was 51 and she was 48. They did is through various means: She bought one of her daughters ONE pair of Guess jeans and ONE pair of Jordache jeans despite her constant pleading. She bought her son slightly irregular IZOD shirts in hideous colors from the outlet store and normal colored off brand shirts from K-Mart. She tried to remove the IZOD symbol and reattach it to the off-brand shirt. This attempt failed miserably as she had to cut the fabric and all from the IZOD shirt placing the IZOD symbol with teal fabric hanging out on top of the blue off brand shirt. Perhaps this is a bad example of her frugality since I believe BOTH SETS of shirts were not worn. For the most part, they simply lived below their means. They were working towards a goal. Regardless, all this would give their children a financially responsible example. An invaluable lesson.

This woman struggled a bit with her identity as her children grew. Having no higher education and watching her primary responsibility for the last 26 years slowly leave her proved to be one of the most difficult tasks of her life.

This woman found her peace. She took joy in her new role as friend to her now-grown children. She was there constantly for support – such as when her 19-year-old son and girlfriend unexpectedly found themselves pregnant. Having lived through that with little support herself, she and her husband knew the support and love necessary to make that work. She once gave up a month of her own work and life to come to a foreign country while one daughter and her very sick husband embarked on a medical journey they knew little about. She came to that foreign country to watch her grandkids, ensuring they felt safe and loved when their parents painfully had to be elsewhere. She gave those kids the security and routine they needed in a very uncertain time and she did it all out of her comfort zone.

In the present day, this woman would amaze you. She has a gift – it’s called hospitality.

She can whip up a meal for 20 in minutes and I do not exaggerate.

She makes fantastic pies.

She can arrange sleeping provisions for 22 people in her 4-bedroom house and everyone would have a bed or a mattress.

She hosts many a weekend gathering and party in the most organized fashion preparing days in advance and making all guests feel welcome and pampered.

She has always worked very hard. She can stand on her feet for hours on end working non-stop only for short water breaks doing very difficult and very dirty physical labor. Hard, dirty work is not beneath her and she has never shied away from it.

She STILL works hard at her age of FIFTY-NINE today.

I know this woman intimately.

I am honored to call her friend. I am privileged to call her MOM.


I LOVE YOU, MOM. More than you can know.

A date to Remember

Seven years ago today, I was sitting at my desk in a job I didn't love. I was anxiously awaiting the birth of my first son. He was due in three days. He was not in my body, but the anticipation was intense.

Seven years ago today, one of my co-workers came to his desk and said, "Go to CNN.com. A plane crashed into the World Trade Center." The break room TV's were turned on. Every employee watched in horror as the events continued to unfold... We tried to work as usual, but as usual was redefined. It seemed with each passing hour, there was a new horror to report. "The second tower that was hit has collapsed to the ground." "The entire building?" "Impossible." "There is video of people jumping out of windows." "Today is September eleventh, like 911. I read on a website that is significant." "There is a plane down in some field in Pennsylvania." "I heard it was in Ohio." "The first tower hit has fallen to the ground." "They closed the Sears Tower." "The Pentagon has been hit with a crashed plane."

It seemed each time someone opened their mouth a new horror or paranoia would set in shadowing the last.

Seven years ago today, a skyline changed. A country changed. A war began.

------------------------------------

Today, eating breakfast in the comfort of my own home, gazing at my boys looking their best because today is "picture day" at school, I couldn't help but realize that what seemed like an event that would forever stay ingrained in my mind is already becoming cloudy. As there are THOUSANDS of people that mourn the needless and innocent shed blood of their dads, moms, sisters, brothers, sons, daughters, aunts, uncles, nieces, cousins and friends each year on this day, my life goes on pretty much as normal. I mourn no personal loss, but I mourn a day that seemed as though it would strongly unite our country. A country that today seems so divided and is constantly bickering amongst itself in the hype of the upcoming election. A country that is great for so many reasons. A country that has so much wealth, so much freedom, so much luxury, so much technology, so much abundance, and so much charity. Today as we should be remembering an event that changed our country in so many ways, I pray that we as Americans can unite and be proud.

I tried to teach my boys a bit today about this important date.
I told them that seven years ago today, before they were born and when Gavin was still in his birthmommy's tummy, there were some very bad men who stole airplanes and crashed them into buildings and killed lots of lots of people. This was a very sad day and we need to remember this day as a special day in thanks for our great country and for our strong army (to my little boys, army means military) and our government.

Gavin: Did they die?

Me: The men that drove the planes died.

Grant: You are lying.

Me: No, Grant. This is very true.

Grant: (smiling) No, it's not. You are making this up.

Gavin: So all the bad guys are dead?
Me: Well, the guys that drove the airplanes died, but their leaders didn't.

Grant: Mommy, you are lying. You are teasing.
Me: Grant. No I'm not, sweetie. I wish I was. This was a very sad day.

Gavin: Did our army kill their leaders?

Me: Ummm, not exactly. We tried to capture some of their leaders, too. We still try to fight to keep those people that hate our country from hurting more people. We will probably always have to because there are people that hate our country because they don't know any better.

Grant: (sticks fingers in ears for remainder of conversation)

Gavin: Will they come back to our city and hurt us?

Me: No, sweetie. You are safe. But you have to thank your army and your country for that. (under breath) At least I hope so.

And I realized - there are some things just too horrific to comprehend. And I am ever so thankful that today I still have the freedom to get dressed and get my boys on this bus like any other day on this same day that thousands of lives are mourned. Because, isn't that what we continue to fight for?

God Bless America

KEEP BELIEVING

Two for one - depression AND vegetable gardening advice!!!

Blog advice ROCKS!

Okay, so yesterday after I hit publish, I started thinking, “Dude, You MUST be depressed if you just hit publish on a post seeking many strangers’ and friends’ and family’s that do not see you on a regular basis advice for DEPRESSION! DUH!!” Then each comment I read just made me feel better and better and more and more normal and has truly helped me these last two days. AND!! I got practical advice on how to handle my God-forsaken ever-green tomatoes.

I have researched depression some and I seriously do not think I am depressed. And that diagnosis comes from Dr. Angie with no MD behind her name. I do not feel like I am putting on a happy face for those around me. If something amuses me, I smile. If I find something funny, I laugh. If I find something hilarious, I snort my drink out of my nose. I think I am being very honest with myself. I feel generally happy with my life as is barring a few obvious issues.

It is the “what if” that concerns me. Right now, I stay home and have this wonderful luxury of time to blog, of the ability to volunteer and be involved in the boys’ school, of making dinners from scratch, of allowing the boys to be involved in extra-curricular activites, and of many other comforts. It is the thought of how to do any of this without the support of a spouse that completely rocks my world – like in an earthquake kind of way and not in a U2 kind of way.

That is the worry that consumes me. It is the worry of raising two boys without a father in this crazy world in which we live. It is not even the worry of being alone so much as the worry of the finances, the kids, and the making this all work together with only one parent.

So, I have an appointment with my GP on Monday and I can’t wait to talk to him more before I start taking anything. Because honestly? I feel enslaved to the worry.

BUT…

I do not lack energy to face the day. I do not lack desire to face the day. In fact, I am ready to add more to my day. I want to go back to work part time. I am excited about the boys’ sports starting again. I want to do more with friends and family. I have huge desires to be surrounded by those that love me and make me feel “normal.” Maybe because they take me away from our harsh realities, but mostly because it is fun.

I do not think I have a chemical thing going on in my BRAIN making me more blue than NOT. I think I have a situational thing going on in my LIFE making me more blue than USUAL.

And I think I should probably talk to someone about my fears and my worries. If talking helps, then great. I need to get my pretty much NON-EXISTENT prayer and spiritual life back on track. I need to get my house organized so I stop feeling overwhelmed at home. I need to clean my car so I stop regurgitating every time I get near it. There are many things I know would help my situation. I don’t think they will take away the worry, but I think they would help a bit with the peripheral angst.

The medication my doctor prescribed is an anti-depressant and not an anti-anxiety med. I am more prone to take an anti-anxiety med than anything else, but even then, I would prefer to handle my situational blues with other means FIRST, MAYBE. Like I said, I am talking to my doctor on Monday about it. A doctor that does not know me. A doctor that is probably not overly qualified to diagnose or help me in the most effective manner, but is a starting point and maybe can recommend a counseling group to help me get some things off my chest. Because most of my worries and the places my mind takes me each day are accompanied with GUILT for “even going there.”

Some of you mentioned support groups, to which I say, BLECH. I know this is totally politically incorrect and you would think I would be more open to this, but I HATE cancer support groups and, naturally, I will tell you why. The people there? - they have cancer. Those support groups are full of sick people. They are full of complaining people. They are full of tired people. They are full of frustrated people. And YES I know we would be exactly those people. But honestly? I am around enough sickness and frustration and anxiety in my own life, I don’t want to bear anyone else’s. I know that is unbelievably selfish and contradicts the very reason for the SUPPORT part of the support group. Also? The support group I went to in the past consisted of one of two people. 1) those that were so sick they were dying (and averaged 25 years our senior) or 2) those that were way too healthy to be a part of this group of sick and dying people because they don’t want to be constantly reminded of what could happen to them. And anyone who hasn’t been told they have less than 3 months to live falls into category 2. So, I stay the hell away from cancer support groups. My reasons for going would be totally selfish, anyway. I want to be supported and to vent. I do not want to hear about anyone else’s issues at this point in our journey. And what I want? They call that COUNSELING, last time I checked.

So, there you go. I am going to talk with one doctor on Monday and simply get another opinion. (By the way, I just love and appreciate God’s timing on this one – we have a jam-packed week with lots of fun activities to pre-occupy us and I have had this appointment on Monday for over 7 weeks. I scheduled it weeks ago trying to get in right away, but had to wait because I am being treated like a new patient. So, God knew what he was doing when he allowed me to have this stressful last couple of weeks coupled with back-to-back doctors appointments I wanted to have months ago)

I am trying to live my life “one day at a time” and the worry I have is not for today, but for the POSSIBLE TOMORROW. I need help getting that worry in check so I can better enjoy my todays. Right now, my enjoyment of today is compromised. I don’t want anything to rob me of that joy.

KEEP BELIEVING

Is this depression? Seriously, I'm asking...

Today I had my yearly visit to the girly doctor. My Ob/gyn has historically been only that to me - a yearly checker of my nether-regions. I have never been pregnant and when we attempted pregnancy all those times, we went to reproductive specialists and by-passed my OB/GYN altogether.

So, my visits are usually short and to the point. Small talk, expose breasts, get felt up breasts examined, scoot to the end of the table, insert feet in stirrups, awkwardly small talk while doctor sticks large q-tip type thing in my hooha, take deep breaths, wash up, dress, go home.

Today, was no different, except that my small talk consisted of Brian. My doctor seemed shocked even though we have small talked about Brian in the past, but like I said, I only see the man once a year. Also? the past small talk visit was 2 years ago and Brian wasn't diagnosed with his recurrent tumor at that point in time. He sat down and we talked in earnest for a while.

I coldly, matter-of-factly and without emotion spoke of Brian's condition, his problems, his diagnosis and how it affects our current lifestyle. I am getting good at this, honestly.

He wanted to know how I was doing emotionally. I hate that question. I know people are looking to find things in me that signal signs of depression. Everyone wants to fix me. "It's the least they can do," I feel it all around me. I found myself babbling on and one somewhat like this:
"Just fine... I think, anyway.... staying strong..... worry a lot..... take care of myself..... tear up out of nowhere..... occasional resentment..... good, though, for the most part.....considering....it sucks.....fine, though...... it's not fair.....holding it together for the most part... "

He looked at me with tender compassion and asked about my support. I found myself replying a lot like this:
"I talk to my family in great length about my worries for the future.... can't really talk to Brian's family about it..... my family is a few hours away, but we talk every day..... have good friends...... Brian's family is close by..... would help whenever..... don't need help right now.... I worry because Brian's family travels a lot if I did need long term help....Good support, though...surrounded by those that love us...."

He looked at me with even more compassion, handed me a tissue for the tears I didn't even realize were running down my face and said:
"You know, there are lots of things you can do to help with the feelings of sadness and despair. I'm not saying you're depressed, but lots of times depression can set in suddenly after feeling just kind of blue for a while. There is counseling and many medications that could help if you felt like you wanted to try that."

Me: "Oh, I think I am fine. Honestly, I have been doing really well. Sort of, since the boys went back to school, I have been a little sadder. I also had an Uncle die of cancer two weeks ago just a couple months after diagnosis. That was hard and made me think a lot of thoughts I don't want to think. But, really I am fine. I am."

Him: Do you think a lot of thoughts about "what if"
Me: Oh yeah, constantly.
Him: Constantly?
Me: Yes, constantly.
Him: Do you sleep?
Me: Actually, I do sleep these days. Probably because I am getting up before dawn to get the kids to school, but I do sleep.
Him: But, you have a lot of worries?
Me: Of course. We are under-life-insured putting me in a position of having to go back to work full time if something happens to Brian. With school starting back up and trying to allow the boys extra-curricular activities, I can't fathom how I could possibly do it by myself and so, yeah, I pretty much worry constantly.
Him: You go to bed worrying, wake up worrying and worry throughout the day?
Me: Yes. All. Day. Long. Every. Day. No. Matter. What. I. Try. To. Preoccupy. My. Time. With.
Him: You know, there are some anti-depressants that can just help with that blue feeling, help your mind to stop thinking "what if" all the time. Just take that anxiety edge off.
Me: Will they make my thoughts and judgement cloudy?
Him: No. They will make the "what if" thoughts cloudy. They should anyway. Do you want to try something?
Me: I'm really not sure. I'll take the script, but I don't know yet.

So, I am filling the script. I have to decide if I am going to take it because I have to take it every day for it to be effective. I don't know if I am depressed. I really don't. I know lately, these are the feelings and events that are dominant in my life:

• tears out of no where
• resentment towards those that are able to do the things we used to be able to do, but no longer can due to Brian's issues.
• constant worry about the future
• short tempered and easily irritated with kids
• unmotivated to do housework and organize
• desires to be around friends and family
• overwhelmed with existing duties
• impatient towards Brian when he is overly sleepy and not feeling well
• self-pity
• lonely
• feel like I always want to do something more fun than what I am currently doing

Do not judge me, please, for feeling any of the above. And, honestly, besides the worry, which I think is pretty normal for anyone in my situation, none of these are overly dominant in my life. I go about doing everything else - grocery shopping, helping with homework, running the kids around, scheduling appointments, paying bills, making dinner, cleaning house, etc.

Yes, I feel more blue than I did a month ago. Also, in the last month, I lost an uncle to cancer and it kickstarted my worry factor again. Brian has not been feeling well due to what we hope and assume is a bad cold for about 3 weeks. Brian has tests coming up in two weeks and that always makes me anxious. My kids started school. I am waking up and going to bed two hours earlier than just one month ago. The days are shorter, the air is cooler and my damn tomato plants never really turned red. I have about 25 green tomatoes sitting out there taunting me.

So, I am asking any readers and lurkers to help me understand. Am I depressed? Am I on the verge? Or am I just dealing with a lot of shit in a time of a lot of change?

KEEP BELIEVING

I am lazy like that...

I have been keeping track of my google searches for a while now. Meaning, people actually type these things in their google search bar and they land here somehow. Most are pretty predictable and match my blog content pretty closely: brain tumors, cancer, chemo, how to keep believing, believing, etc.

And you wouldn't believe how many people google anything related to the "Mighty Mouse, Superman, Stand by Me" scene. I had to google it, too, to find it.

Then I get some that make me sad like this:

Why am I staying in this terrible marriage - and I think, why are you googling this? Seek marriage counseling immediately. And by the way, HOW DID YOU GET TO MY BLOG???


However, some crack me up:

I love having kids - Why, so do I, but I have never thought to google it. In fact, I can't think of one logical reason to google it. But, I am glad your search sent you here.

reasons to love children - ummm, apparently, YOU need more help and you don't love kids as much as the person above and need some reassurance. Did you find reasons here? There are many.

peeing in public accidentally - Woops. I certainly hope you are either under the age of 9 or over the age of 65.

fart headache - STAY AWAY FROM MY FAMILY. You will have a sudden onset of migraines!

young boy with smelly flatulence - You found ME? Honestly, if you were looking for a 36 year old woman with smelly flatulence, google is doing you a service, but my young boys' flatulence is only just beginning to have odor at ages 5 and 6.

April 2008 I am tired - the entire month? really? and exactly what were you hoping to find by GOOGLING this? other tired people? a calendar of tired people?

And my favorite:
I know my Valentine waits in a line of one night stands and it's not you it's me - to which I reply, What the????
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On another note, I am terrible at acknowledging blog awards and I would like to formally apologize to anyone that gives me an award that it takes my sorry ass so long to post it and that I usually don't pass it on. I dare to buck the system am lazy like that.





The ever talented, witty, hilarious, sexy Tootsie Farklepants graced me with this beauty a couple weeks ago.




Isn't it lovely? It is to be given to those you find funny, sunny and happy. I appreciate Tootsie lying and saying this about me. I do not often find myself funny, sunny or happy.



I am passing this along to a few of my newer sunny, funny and happy blog reads:

The first and foremost being Texan Mama at WHOPUTMEINCHARGEOFTHESEPEOPLE. She is a real life friend of many years. We were BFF's in high school. She was a great writer back then, too. She and I went to separate colleges and didn't stay in close contact until we both graduated and then, guess, what? We married men from the same home town. Not our home town and we didn't meet them together. How's that for coincidence?



Secondly, I am awarding this to DadtheDude because I find him hilarious and straight forward and opinionated and delightful. I don't even know if he knows the extent to which I stalk him. He rants on Tuesdays these days. You will wait with baited breath like I do.

And off the category of newer discovered blogs, I am passing it to Beth at A Mom's life because I find her all three of those adjectives - sunny, funny and happy.




KEEP BELIEVING

At which table would I sit?

I was looking around the other day at all the back-to-schoolers. I watched the high school bus come and go. In my day, I attended a Catholic high school that didn’t have a bus. We drove and carpooled. Watching the highschoolers board the bus got my brain spinning 6 degrees to wherever and I was taken back to high school momentarily.

When I think back on high school, as well as cheerleading, big hair, homework, late night telephone calls, learning to drive and my BFF, I am also reminded of one particular person I can’t get out of my head. There was a girl, CF, in my school to whom I was less than pleasant. When I say less than pleasant, I should say downright MEAN. I mocked CF behind her back as did most all of my friends. When I had the chance, I would engage her in incriminating conversations in which she would reveal more things that showed her peculiarity like where she bought her clothes or how she differed from the rest of the ever-conforming high school girl me and most of my friends were becoming. I got her to reveal that she shopped at K-Mart and that she thought K-Mart rocked which was TABOO for anyone to ADMIT in high school. (For the record, I do not shop at K-mart much now, but it is CERTAINLY not beneath me. It is just not convenient for me.)

In my puny defense, CF was odd. She spoke in a strange monotone way. We wore uniforms, but she dressed strange for most highschoolers. She was shorter than even me, which said a lot at my 5-foot height entering high school. Maybe that is why I picked on her. Maybe it was because she was too forthcoming and eager to try to meet people and make friends. Most likely, it was because I was just insecure and ignorant and found one easy prey. I don’t know, but I am not proud of it. At. All.

I think of the years that CF was tormented by not just me, but by most of the class. She wasn’t cool and she didn’t try to be. And what I remember the most about high school was constantly trying to be cool – at the expense of the law, my dignity and purity, my family, kindness and my grades.

I think of how my heart would PAIN if my boys' classmates were not treating my kids nicely or fairly. When either of my boys tells me of a bullying situation, we address it, discuss it and remove them from it if possible. Because, who wants their kid hurt? But that is what most of my class and I did to CF for all 4 years of high school.

CF would find a friend here and there to hang with. Her freshman year, she seemed unscathed and would find some folks to sit with at lunch or during assemblies. She showed up for many school functions by herself and would mingle with a few. In the next few years, as we grew and *ahem* matured (said rolling my eyes), our class seemed to have less and less to do with CF. She would resort to hanging with younger classes who didn’t know yet that she was somehow labeled by the rest of the student body as odd. She was welcoming to others and always interested in making a friend. When she came to school events, she resorted to hanging with the teacher chaperones. Eventually, she stopped attending altogether. She was probably beyond lonely.

I remember finding out later that one of the reasons CF was so small was that she had many health problems as a child. She wouldn’t dress in front of anyone at gym class (and come one, for whom ISN’T that act awkward at that age) because she had a huge scar from open-heart surgery as a child. It didn’t faze most of us in the class. Sadly, it just cemented her weirdness.

At lunch, I always sat with the same people. We had our group of friends. K, T, N, G, L, and I were always at the same table. Some would rotate in, out and around with other tables, but if you looked around the cafeteria, there was always the same people give or take a few that sat with the same people. Not necessarily because anyone was being exclusive, rather because that was our group of friends that we hung with mostly on the weekends, too. That is whom you tend to migrate towards. That is natural.

I can remember CF sitting by herself many times during our senior year. If her lunch coincided with the freshman lunch or with a person from one of the other classes that was nice to her, she would have one or two people to sit with, but it didn’t always happen.

It breaks my heart to this day to think of her sitting there by herself at lunch.

I think about myself today as I walk into a social situation and look around a room not knowing anyone. To whom do I migrate? I tend to migrate to those who look like me, dress like me and act like me. Why? I know when I leave situations like that, if no one befriended me or it was simply awkward the entire time, I leave feeling lonely and empty.

Where would I sit today in that cafeteria knowing everything I know today? Would I sit with the person who looks the loneliest and saddest?

I often wonder how my boys are doing at school. Are they getting along with their teacher? Are they obeying? Are they grasping the concepts? Are they struggling? But mostly, I wonder… Are they getting along with the other kids? Is anyone being mean to them and are they being mean to anyone else?

I picture CF sitting there alone in that cafeteria full of her classmates when I think of my boys at school and I don’t want that for my boys in two ways. I don’t want them to be her all alone and I don’t want them to be me ignoring her.

What would make me beyond proud would be for my boys to be the one to look beyond the taboo that stained this awkward high-schooler and befriend her. I want my boys to be the ones to tell others ‘they are ignorant and cruel and that is a person just like you inside with fears and ambitions and a past and a future’ and simply be her companion even if just for 25 minutes a day.

I wish I had been that person to CF.

I publicly, humbly, and ashamedly apologize to CF. I have no idea what has become of her and I think still think of her often.

What about you? Any regrets on how you treated someone?

KEEP BELIEVING

I can't think of much to say

I have all these posts swirling around in my head...

Like an idea for a parenting forum to ask some people some questions that I seriously want opinions on....

Or some cute stories that I can remember.....

Then I realize...

Oh crap, it is like 6:45 and the kids need to get in the shower and brush their teeth and we need to read and log our reading time and I have no less than 12 papers to lose throw away sort through and diligently read for details for my kids and the expectations on a kindergartner and 1st grader in this century of public school. Which, when translated, means I have more homework than them because in reality, any homework for kindergartners and first graders simply means, "parents, you will be doing this, too," and then I have the added tasks of getting all the upcoming events for them on our calendars and determining when my library rotation will fall in the month, and reading through the newest information for parents of school kids which is: "please check out this website and do these activities with your kids to supplement" because I didn't have ENOUGH to do before with the 6 pages a week for the kindergartner and the spelling lists and sight words and math suggestions for the first grader.

Then I get another, 'please read 15 minutes a day with your first grader and color these apples when you are done and have your child return at the end of the month' and I realize that there are actually the same number of apples on the chart as there are days in the month. And I'm wondering if the first grader will realize if I color in an extra apple here and there because, I'm thinking... I JUST WANT A DAY OFF HOMEWORK, MAN!

And I'm thinking, geez, they're 5 and 6 for cryin out loud. And I'm 36 and I'm not supposed to be doing homework anymore.

And then I'm thinking, didn't I send them to school so I didn't HAVE to homeschool. How is it that all my homeschool friends can teach their two or three kids in like 4 hours and not have additional homework. My kids are in school for 7 hours a day and still come home with all this crap.

So, then I'm thinking, don't these teachers care about the environment? cuz honestly, I don't keep much for more than a day, which has totally backfired on me TWICE as I have had to email a teacher for a spelling list and a username and password for the stupid websites we are supposed to be "supplementing" with at home after I prematurely tossed the paper. Meaning, I go through about an extra BAG of garbage a week with worksheet pages and practice writing and parent bulletins, etc.

So, then I'm thinking, when am I ever gonna have time for this blog? Because on top of all the extra stuff relating to school and every dish I have to bring for teacher appreciation day (which I fully appreciate by the way) and all the library volunteering for 2 kids and all the field trips and other school functions and the church activities ready to start up soon and the other pressing household chores, we had company last weekend and Brian had chemo and a doctors appointment today. And the only time I seem to find to work on this blog is around 8:00 at night which I DO like to occasionally spend with my spouse who so diligently fights for his life daily and provides a comfortable living for this household. PLUS, I go to bed between NINE and TEN these days (unlike my summer midnight oil burning time) because we get up and start this whole routine over every day at 6 am. So much so, that up until about two days ago, I was like, "Sarah Palin, who?" and "Joe Biden, who?" and "Aren't the Olympics on TV anymore?"

So, now I'm thinking - How many days til summer?

KEEP BELIEVING

(I'm also thinking after spellchecking this post, how is it that I ALWAYS spell occasionally and determining wrong?- spellcheck catches it, though)