Since the time I was a wee child, I have yearned to be a teacher. I honestly cannot remember one single moment of my life where I wanted to be anything else. I have had a wide host of varied interests but at the core of it all was this desire to teach. I have had "classrooms" set up in every house we have ever lived in. I had a teacher's desk, student desks, real textbooks, worksheets, a chalkboard, sticker charts, and a whistle to use when I had recess duty in the backyard with make-believe students. Are you starting to understand how serious this is?
I was a "student" helper in a kindergarten classroom my junior year of high school, a preschool teacher in a co-op program at my high school my senior year, and have logged some serious volunteer hours in various classrooms around the country...Massachusetts, Idaho, Utah, New Jersey, and Washington, D.C. I received my bachelor's degree in elementary education and my master's degree in Administration and Educational Leadership. I have student taught, interned, and been a "real" teacher. (This is not meant to be a resume but to illustrate a point that I realize is taking a long time to arrive at.) I have found truly immense joy in teaching my own children and I realize I am a total geek because even though I am 35 years old, I still make my kids come downstairs and "play school" with me. I have been there when J. learned to read, write and start to discover the world around him. I was there when M. sang his ABC's and counted to 20 for the first time. I love listening to H. count to 1 and hold up one chubby finger. And now I'm getting to the point.
My oldest child is ready to start kindergarten next year and I have moved from the role of "educator" to "parent"...and I am freaking out. I tried to get excited about the local public school until I watched ants invade the cafeteria one day, talked to an assistant principal who couldn't really tell me what time school started and ended, and met the worn out kindergarten teacher with fraying orange carpet in her classroom and 30+ students in each session. So I put J.'s name on every charter school waiting list in the county. We found out this week that we were accepted at one of our top choices and I eagerly drove all the kids over to the school today to enroll my little kindergartener. I filled out the paperwork, walked around the school where I saw students dressed in the darling plaid school uniform eagerly engaged in studying in a variety of break-out rooms and classrooms and talked to some really enthusiastic personnel and teachers that were impressive both in what they knew and their passion for teaching. As we left the school, J. announced, "Mom, I think I could really be happy here." And I started to cry. You see, the problem isn't necessarily the schools because I realized today that no school will ever be good enough for a little boy who I think is amazing and wonderful and who I adore with every ounce of my body and soul. The problem is that I am sending my son off to let someone else be his teacher and do for him all the incredible things that I love doing for him. And not only that, but no teacher will ever adore my son the way I do. It just seems so ironic that with my passion, I'm still sending him off and it hurts my heart. I won't homeschool him because I don't believe in the long run that it is in the best interest of my child. Going to school is 50% academics and 50% life skills and I won't deny my son the opporunity to be touched by wonderful people who have strengths and skills so different than mine. He also needs to learn how to get along with teachers and students who aren't easy to get along with and how to handle new situations and experiences. He needs the chance to stand on his own and he needs to know that his parents trust him to do that. He needs to make decisions and weigh choices and be responsible for things that are exclusively "his". But I will miss him so much. And I hope he doesn't mind that when he gets home I may still drag him to the library to look for books on dragons and how to make kites and drag him all over the state to go on new adventures and play at new museums and playgrounds and try mixing all that mystery stuff in the cupboard to see what kind of explosion it will make....there is a magic in learning with my children that I hope will never end. I've rediscovered so much about myself and the world that I had forgotten or maybe never really learned. So here is to public education....and to all the moms waiting at the bus stops when school is over! Hooray!
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Blessed Motherhood
Two of my favorite people became parents for the first time this week. I've been looking at pictures of their beautiful baby girl and wondering how their new family is doing. Becoming a parent for the first time is undescribable. Nothing can prepare you for the miracle of a new baby, the sleep deprivation, the happiness and joy or the really discouraging frustrations. I had watched too much T.V. before having my first child. I had it all mapped out in my head...I would go into labor, husband and I would whisk away to the hospital where we would practice our hynobirthing and deliver our child in record time with no drugs, just peaceful relaxation and new-age music. The baby would be laid on my chest where I would cradle him while softly cooing, "My baby. My precious baby." Husband and I would hug and kiss and gaze in awe at our little bundle of joy. I would hold him to my breast where he would instantly latch on and begin nursing while I savored the moment I became a mom. And it goes on and on and on...can you appreciate what too much T.V. can do to your mind? Now let me share what really happened.
I suffered from horrible, excruciating anxiety attacks for the last 3 months of my pregnancy. I lost weight, couldn't eat, paced the floors, and thought I was really, truly losing my mind. I couldn't even consider the joy of the upcoming event because I was too worried about surviving the next 10 minutes of my life. It was really frustrating to want to feel one way and to feel like a slave to the other emotions I couldn't seem to control. Blah.
Early one morning (2 weeks before my due date) my water broke and because there was meconium (otherwise known as "poop") in the fluid, we were encouraged to RUSH to the hospital as quickly as we could. I sat in the car dazed (it was really early in the morning) and somewhat baffled at what was happening. I do remember eating Cheerios out of a cup and wishing it had been the big steak and potato dinner I had planned for myself as the "final meal". We got to the hospital where the doctor checked me out and announced the baby was breech. Due to the meconium in the fluid and the fact that the baby was wedged the wrong way, we had to throw away the hypnobirthing plan and readjust to having a C-section. Minutes later I was in the operating room drugged with lots of Valium to calm me down and making my husband tell me funny stories about the secretary at work while the baby was being born. I remember them holding him up for a couple of seconds and then rushing him away. I lay on the table and studied the funny pattern on the ceiling. To this day I don't know if the funny pattern was really all that funny or if the Valium just made everything look that way. Once I was back in the recovery room, they brought J. in and laid him in my arms. I remember looking at him and instead of those warm, fuzzy feelings I expected to have, I just felt a little overwhelmed. I wondered how they were certain this was my baby and how they didn't mix up all the babies in the hospital (remember...I was on Valium still!). He was whisked away again and I'm a little foggy on the next few hours.
Well, 4 days later I was walking around the block at 5:00 a.m. in the morning sobbing hysterically while my husband patted me on the back and told me it would all be O.K. My little baby cried a lot and nursing really, really "sucked" (get it??). I was so sleep deprived and exhausted that I had decided we would have to give the baby up for adoption which prompted the walk around the block. Bless my husband's heart....instead of telling me I was crazy, he just patted me on the back and said, "Well, that certainly is an option. Why don't we get a little sleep and talk about it in the morning!" It wasn't the picture perfect reality I had expected. But there is good news...
Despite the horror of the 3 months before J. was born, I knew it was all going to be alright. I received a blessing from my husband where I was assured that this baby knew what I was going through and that I would feel his love and support as we went through this trial together. He and I experienced a lot as we prepared for him to come to earth. I still feel J.'s unquestioning love and support every day as I try to figure out how to be his mom. I will forever be grateful for his powerful spirit.
Moments before I went into the unexpected C-section, I felt that J.'s 2 grandfathers were by his side and somehow escorting him to mortality. My son would be healthy and happy and loved.
And during the periods where J. cried and couldn't nurse very well, I felt a fierce love and determination to figure out how to make it all work. I knew he was my baby and that I had the gifts he needed in order to be his mother. I just had to be patient.
And then came the peaceful moment one night when I was holding my newborn baby and I started to cry because I knew these moments of holding him in my arms and being a new mom were going to come and go so quickly that it would all seem like a dream.
He is 5 years old now and there isn't a time when he walks into my room in the morning and I feel a little thrill that he is my boy and that I have a whole glorious day with him. It is hard to believe that the long, lanky boy who climbs into my lap these days and snuggles is the same little boy I held in my arms all those mornings ago and wondered if he was really mine. I'm glad motherhood isn't one long rainbow movie with sappy music. I'm glad that I have to fight and be determined and rely a whole lot on my Heavenly Father because a long the way I'm learning so much about myself and what I'm really made of. I'm tougher than I thought, more emtional than I could have ever believed and really weak in lots of things but I'm learning and growing and having a truly marvelous experience along the way.
So I'd like to dedicate this blog to all the new parents out there...savor every moment, they truly go so fast. Don't worry about the really sad, hard, frustrating moments...they will go away and be replaced with knowledge and strength. And don't ever doubt for a moment that you are experiencing the greatest joy you will ever know on this earth.
(Now go take a nap!)
I suffered from horrible, excruciating anxiety attacks for the last 3 months of my pregnancy. I lost weight, couldn't eat, paced the floors, and thought I was really, truly losing my mind. I couldn't even consider the joy of the upcoming event because I was too worried about surviving the next 10 minutes of my life. It was really frustrating to want to feel one way and to feel like a slave to the other emotions I couldn't seem to control. Blah.
Early one morning (2 weeks before my due date) my water broke and because there was meconium (otherwise known as "poop") in the fluid, we were encouraged to RUSH to the hospital as quickly as we could. I sat in the car dazed (it was really early in the morning) and somewhat baffled at what was happening. I do remember eating Cheerios out of a cup and wishing it had been the big steak and potato dinner I had planned for myself as the "final meal". We got to the hospital where the doctor checked me out and announced the baby was breech. Due to the meconium in the fluid and the fact that the baby was wedged the wrong way, we had to throw away the hypnobirthing plan and readjust to having a C-section. Minutes later I was in the operating room drugged with lots of Valium to calm me down and making my husband tell me funny stories about the secretary at work while the baby was being born. I remember them holding him up for a couple of seconds and then rushing him away. I lay on the table and studied the funny pattern on the ceiling. To this day I don't know if the funny pattern was really all that funny or if the Valium just made everything look that way. Once I was back in the recovery room, they brought J. in and laid him in my arms. I remember looking at him and instead of those warm, fuzzy feelings I expected to have, I just felt a little overwhelmed. I wondered how they were certain this was my baby and how they didn't mix up all the babies in the hospital (remember...I was on Valium still!). He was whisked away again and I'm a little foggy on the next few hours.
Well, 4 days later I was walking around the block at 5:00 a.m. in the morning sobbing hysterically while my husband patted me on the back and told me it would all be O.K. My little baby cried a lot and nursing really, really "sucked" (get it??). I was so sleep deprived and exhausted that I had decided we would have to give the baby up for adoption which prompted the walk around the block. Bless my husband's heart....instead of telling me I was crazy, he just patted me on the back and said, "Well, that certainly is an option. Why don't we get a little sleep and talk about it in the morning!" It wasn't the picture perfect reality I had expected. But there is good news...
Despite the horror of the 3 months before J. was born, I knew it was all going to be alright. I received a blessing from my husband where I was assured that this baby knew what I was going through and that I would feel his love and support as we went through this trial together. He and I experienced a lot as we prepared for him to come to earth. I still feel J.'s unquestioning love and support every day as I try to figure out how to be his mom. I will forever be grateful for his powerful spirit.
Moments before I went into the unexpected C-section, I felt that J.'s 2 grandfathers were by his side and somehow escorting him to mortality. My son would be healthy and happy and loved.
And during the periods where J. cried and couldn't nurse very well, I felt a fierce love and determination to figure out how to make it all work. I knew he was my baby and that I had the gifts he needed in order to be his mother. I just had to be patient.
And then came the peaceful moment one night when I was holding my newborn baby and I started to cry because I knew these moments of holding him in my arms and being a new mom were going to come and go so quickly that it would all seem like a dream.
He is 5 years old now and there isn't a time when he walks into my room in the morning and I feel a little thrill that he is my boy and that I have a whole glorious day with him. It is hard to believe that the long, lanky boy who climbs into my lap these days and snuggles is the same little boy I held in my arms all those mornings ago and wondered if he was really mine. I'm glad motherhood isn't one long rainbow movie with sappy music. I'm glad that I have to fight and be determined and rely a whole lot on my Heavenly Father because a long the way I'm learning so much about myself and what I'm really made of. I'm tougher than I thought, more emtional than I could have ever believed and really weak in lots of things but I'm learning and growing and having a truly marvelous experience along the way.
So I'd like to dedicate this blog to all the new parents out there...savor every moment, they truly go so fast. Don't worry about the really sad, hard, frustrating moments...they will go away and be replaced with knowledge and strength. And don't ever doubt for a moment that you are experiencing the greatest joy you will ever know on this earth.
(Now go take a nap!)
Friday, April 14, 2006
Well, being a person who likes to eat but not being a real genius when it comes to "storing" that food long-term (I like to think of myself of a real immediate, short-term, "give it to me now and yes, add the whipped cream" kind of gal), I'm always on the look out for new techniques...and I daresay my charming, sweet 16-month old daughter has developed one. It all started in the carpool on the way to preschool a few days ago. C. (one of our "carpool" buddies) pointed out that H. was sitting ever so serenely, looking out the window with one of her fingers jammed half-way up her nose. She wasn't picking, wasn't moving the finger around, just sitting with her finger resting all the way up her naval cavity. I tried to ignore it recognizing that ANY comment would be positive reinforcement to my daughter and feed the already disgusting conversation going on with the 5 year olds in the backseat but I have to admit it was a little disturbing to see my girl in such a socially awkward position.
Fast forward to the day she had a series of sneezing attacks...I thought she was having violent allergies to something. She seriously would start sneezing and it would be 6-7 good, hard sneezes before she would stop. I rushed to the store and stocked up on Benadryl to arm myself with the necessary tools but started to notice that each time she had a hard attack, she would blow some contents of her nose out and not all of it looked "normal" to me. (Being the expert on children's nasal matter that I am...) I mentioned it to my husband but since he has bad allergies, we opted for doping her up, sending her to bed and praying it would all magically disappear before morning.
Then came the morning we caught her shoving small chunks of banana up her nose. I watched her carefully pick up a piece of slimy banana, place it delicately at the base of the nose opening, and then approach it with small, quick jabs of the pointer finger. She didn't just jam it up there...she shot it into her brain. (And because I suffer from a serious case of motherhood anxiety, I just had to ask my husband if children could be brain damaged from stuffing foreign substance into their heads. Don't think I didn't look it up on the internet that night!) We immediately moved into action. Out came the plastic, blue "booger" grabber-sucker thing, the tweezers, the nasal spray, and the chocolates (for moral support). We sucked, we lubricated, we tweezed, we begged, prayed, pleaded and cajoled and were finally rewarded with a sneeze that sent that chunk out of her nose and across the room. So of course we moved to scientist mode where we picked it up with a tissue and studied it carefully with a certain sense of awe and wonder.
That was almost 2 weeks ago. Since then we have accumulated more banana chunks, a piece of sausage, a felt pad from the bottom of a chair, part of a crayon, lots of small wads of toliet paper, and a variety of vegetables. The pea that she jammed into her nose on Monday actually had to be removed by the doctor who brought out the "big guns" for the procedure. You ain't seen a "sucking machine" until you've gone to the pediatric ear/nose/throat specialist! Anyway, she screamed like she always does but our doctor was kind enough to wrap the pea in a piece of gauze so we could take it home and marvel over it for a little while.
So now we bring it full circle. I think H. is just stashing her food storage away in what she considers a lovely, dark, cool hole. Really it would be the ideal place if it weren't so totally inappropriate.
Lovely, naughty, darling little girl!
Fast forward to the day she had a series of sneezing attacks...I thought she was having violent allergies to something. She seriously would start sneezing and it would be 6-7 good, hard sneezes before she would stop. I rushed to the store and stocked up on Benadryl to arm myself with the necessary tools but started to notice that each time she had a hard attack, she would blow some contents of her nose out and not all of it looked "normal" to me. (Being the expert on children's nasal matter that I am...) I mentioned it to my husband but since he has bad allergies, we opted for doping her up, sending her to bed and praying it would all magically disappear before morning.
Then came the morning we caught her shoving small chunks of banana up her nose. I watched her carefully pick up a piece of slimy banana, place it delicately at the base of the nose opening, and then approach it with small, quick jabs of the pointer finger. She didn't just jam it up there...she shot it into her brain. (And because I suffer from a serious case of motherhood anxiety, I just had to ask my husband if children could be brain damaged from stuffing foreign substance into their heads. Don't think I didn't look it up on the internet that night!) We immediately moved into action. Out came the plastic, blue "booger" grabber-sucker thing, the tweezers, the nasal spray, and the chocolates (for moral support). We sucked, we lubricated, we tweezed, we begged, prayed, pleaded and cajoled and were finally rewarded with a sneeze that sent that chunk out of her nose and across the room. So of course we moved to scientist mode where we picked it up with a tissue and studied it carefully with a certain sense of awe and wonder.
That was almost 2 weeks ago. Since then we have accumulated more banana chunks, a piece of sausage, a felt pad from the bottom of a chair, part of a crayon, lots of small wads of toliet paper, and a variety of vegetables. The pea that she jammed into her nose on Monday actually had to be removed by the doctor who brought out the "big guns" for the procedure. You ain't seen a "sucking machine" until you've gone to the pediatric ear/nose/throat specialist! Anyway, she screamed like she always does but our doctor was kind enough to wrap the pea in a piece of gauze so we could take it home and marvel over it for a little while.
So now we bring it full circle. I think H. is just stashing her food storage away in what she considers a lovely, dark, cool hole. Really it would be the ideal place if it weren't so totally inappropriate.
Lovely, naughty, darling little girl!
Friday, April 07, 2006
Tribute to the Group of the Man Leg and Other Sundry Affairs
I have been blessed. One of the greatest gifts I have been given throughout my life is friends. Not just friends, but strong, beautiful, ambitious individuals who have really truly impacted who I am, the decisions I have made, and what I have ultimately been able to accomplish thus far in my life. I wouldn't even know where to start but I do have a few of these people on my mind today...would you like to meet them?
My dearest friends are those I am related to. I have been blessed with the most amazing parents, siblings, sibling's spouses and nieces and nephews. I would rather spend a day with one of these people than almost any one else in the world...any one of them. I feel so grateful for them . All you have to do is look at the people around you to understand the impact family can have. Your life, soul, and very being start in the family. I adore mine.
I have also been blessed with a tremendous "in-law" family. From the moment I entered their lives, they have been supportive, compassionate and have truly helped shaped my own marriage and family. I am so grateful for my dear relationships with them. They are inspiring and fun and wonderful!
I would like to pay tribute to my childhood friends. One of my best friends was my 3rd grade teacher, Mrs. Betsy Wheeler. I wish this woman knew the impact she has had on my life. At a time when I felt physically ugly and large, socially awkward, and unsure of my place in things, she made me feel truly beautiful. She saw so many things in me that I didn't see in myself and even at the age of 8, gave me the courage to develop my talents. She recognized my love of writing and let me write books for the library at the school. She saw my love of teaching and let me teach handwriting lessons to the class every week. She encouraged me to try out for the school play where I played the Queen of Hearts and fell in love with drama. Mrs. Wheeler saved worksheets and books for me that I could take home and use in my own "school". She adored me, loved me, and inspired me. For the next 6 years, every time I played school I would wear my flowy skirt and high heels and call myself "Mrs. Wheeler". She was amazing and I have thought about the influence she has had on my life so many times...especially as I stood in front of my first "real" class as a "real" teacher for the first time. I wish I knew where she was so I could tell her how wonderful I still think she is.
I will forever be grateful to the friends that made junior high and high school the best of years and helped me be prepare for becoming a young adult. These friends were so strong and smart and ambitious and determined and funny and wonderful. Chandra, Liz, Katy, Lisa, Michelle, Carla, etc. etc. Thank you for making such good choices and taking me along with you! To this day, I stand in awe of what they have overcome and accomplished in their lives. I was never once disappointed or hurt by these friends. Can you imagine being able to say that about high school friends??? I am also extremely grateful for my first "boyfriend". He and I shared such a deep, amazing friendship that over time developed into something a little more but was always rooted in this genuine love and respect for each other. He also made me feel so beautiful and capable. He was the most genuine, sincere person and treated me so well. We shared high school, first year of college, and 2 missions together. Can you believe he wrote me every single week of his mission??? He continues to be a strong individual, husband and father and I am proud of the choices he has made in his life. I don't know where he is right now but I hope he appreciates the positive influence he had on me and the gift he gave me of respect, kindness, and hope. We had such a positive, healthy relationship that it set a permanent standard for the kind of people I would date and I can honestly say that I have only had positive experiences (for the most part) in dating. Absolutely no regrets! What a gift!!
I am grateful for a group of women in Boston, MA who befriended me at a time in my life when I was at a real crossroads. They were a different age than I was, a different place in their lives than I was but those choices they had made and their friendship helped me make some decisions that have had an eternal impact on me. I look back on that time period as one filled with these women of different backgrounds, talents, ambitions, etc. and I am filled with respect for their lives. Although I haven't seen many of them in years, I still think of them with great respect and appreciation.
And then there are 2 of the greatest friends of my life. Michelle and Jenni were with me through the end of college, the beginning of my professional life, dating, marriage, having and raising children and continue to be a source of inspiration and strength. We have been through so, so much together. I don't really think of them as friends as much as I do sisters. We have stressed together, shopped together, travelled together, laughed, cried, raged, planned, plotted, giggled, been through ups and downs and the place they hold in my heart never changes. Every time I see one of them or talk to them, it is a thrill! I love and adore them and honor the places they are in their lives. They have fought hard, overcome enormous obstacles and always remained steadfast. I truly love them.
And last but certainly, certainly not least comes my sisters in what I will affectionately call "The Group of The Man Leg". These are the women who truly occupy a significant part of my soul right now. I don't see them near as often as I would like, I don't always even get to talk to them as much as I want, but I rejoice in the long evenings every other month where we eat, laugh, hug, discuss, cry, and draw off each other's strengths. Oh, if every woman had these women in their lives. We are certainly diverse in our lives, families, challenges, viewpoints, dreams and book choices but somehow that diversity has created a strong thread that binds us together. I am so grateful for each and every one of them and continue to stand in awe of all they are doing and achieving. To be inspired in such a way is no small thing. I do not take them for granted nor the influence each of them have had individually in my life.
A person truly is a composition of all that surrounds them. To meet a single individual is to meet a whole host of people and experiences that can be thrilling and joyful or devastating and sad. Don't ever underestimate your influence. A single contact with one person can change a life. Just ask the people who have changed me...
My dearest friends are those I am related to. I have been blessed with the most amazing parents, siblings, sibling's spouses and nieces and nephews. I would rather spend a day with one of these people than almost any one else in the world...any one of them. I feel so grateful for them . All you have to do is look at the people around you to understand the impact family can have. Your life, soul, and very being start in the family. I adore mine.
I have also been blessed with a tremendous "in-law" family. From the moment I entered their lives, they have been supportive, compassionate and have truly helped shaped my own marriage and family. I am so grateful for my dear relationships with them. They are inspiring and fun and wonderful!
I would like to pay tribute to my childhood friends. One of my best friends was my 3rd grade teacher, Mrs. Betsy Wheeler. I wish this woman knew the impact she has had on my life. At a time when I felt physically ugly and large, socially awkward, and unsure of my place in things, she made me feel truly beautiful. She saw so many things in me that I didn't see in myself and even at the age of 8, gave me the courage to develop my talents. She recognized my love of writing and let me write books for the library at the school. She saw my love of teaching and let me teach handwriting lessons to the class every week. She encouraged me to try out for the school play where I played the Queen of Hearts and fell in love with drama. Mrs. Wheeler saved worksheets and books for me that I could take home and use in my own "school". She adored me, loved me, and inspired me. For the next 6 years, every time I played school I would wear my flowy skirt and high heels and call myself "Mrs. Wheeler". She was amazing and I have thought about the influence she has had on my life so many times...especially as I stood in front of my first "real" class as a "real" teacher for the first time. I wish I knew where she was so I could tell her how wonderful I still think she is.
I will forever be grateful to the friends that made junior high and high school the best of years and helped me be prepare for becoming a young adult. These friends were so strong and smart and ambitious and determined and funny and wonderful. Chandra, Liz, Katy, Lisa, Michelle, Carla, etc. etc. Thank you for making such good choices and taking me along with you! To this day, I stand in awe of what they have overcome and accomplished in their lives. I was never once disappointed or hurt by these friends. Can you imagine being able to say that about high school friends??? I am also extremely grateful for my first "boyfriend". He and I shared such a deep, amazing friendship that over time developed into something a little more but was always rooted in this genuine love and respect for each other. He also made me feel so beautiful and capable. He was the most genuine, sincere person and treated me so well. We shared high school, first year of college, and 2 missions together. Can you believe he wrote me every single week of his mission??? He continues to be a strong individual, husband and father and I am proud of the choices he has made in his life. I don't know where he is right now but I hope he appreciates the positive influence he had on me and the gift he gave me of respect, kindness, and hope. We had such a positive, healthy relationship that it set a permanent standard for the kind of people I would date and I can honestly say that I have only had positive experiences (for the most part) in dating. Absolutely no regrets! What a gift!!
I am grateful for a group of women in Boston, MA who befriended me at a time in my life when I was at a real crossroads. They were a different age than I was, a different place in their lives than I was but those choices they had made and their friendship helped me make some decisions that have had an eternal impact on me. I look back on that time period as one filled with these women of different backgrounds, talents, ambitions, etc. and I am filled with respect for their lives. Although I haven't seen many of them in years, I still think of them with great respect and appreciation.
And then there are 2 of the greatest friends of my life. Michelle and Jenni were with me through the end of college, the beginning of my professional life, dating, marriage, having and raising children and continue to be a source of inspiration and strength. We have been through so, so much together. I don't really think of them as friends as much as I do sisters. We have stressed together, shopped together, travelled together, laughed, cried, raged, planned, plotted, giggled, been through ups and downs and the place they hold in my heart never changes. Every time I see one of them or talk to them, it is a thrill! I love and adore them and honor the places they are in their lives. They have fought hard, overcome enormous obstacles and always remained steadfast. I truly love them.
And last but certainly, certainly not least comes my sisters in what I will affectionately call "The Group of The Man Leg". These are the women who truly occupy a significant part of my soul right now. I don't see them near as often as I would like, I don't always even get to talk to them as much as I want, but I rejoice in the long evenings every other month where we eat, laugh, hug, discuss, cry, and draw off each other's strengths. Oh, if every woman had these women in their lives. We are certainly diverse in our lives, families, challenges, viewpoints, dreams and book choices but somehow that diversity has created a strong thread that binds us together. I am so grateful for each and every one of them and continue to stand in awe of all they are doing and achieving. To be inspired in such a way is no small thing. I do not take them for granted nor the influence each of them have had individually in my life.
A person truly is a composition of all that surrounds them. To meet a single individual is to meet a whole host of people and experiences that can be thrilling and joyful or devastating and sad. Don't ever underestimate your influence. A single contact with one person can change a life. Just ask the people who have changed me...
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Take a Right At the Stairs...
Our computer lives in the basement. While it is a completely finished, delightful basement, the room where the computer lives in as far away from my regular life as it could possibly be. I have to go down the stairs, take a right, go through my workroom, around the corner into the playroom, through the playroom, over the hard wood floor basement entrance/exit and into the "computer room". While this is not necessarily "physically" taxing, it is certainly a mental strain. I think about a dozen things every day that I would love to blog about but by the time I put the kids to bed and have a moment to descend the stairs, it seems way too difficult. So weeks and weeks go by and all those things are left unsaid. What makes it even more tragic is that I don't keep a journal so all those thoughts are lost to time and my serious short term memory loss. I don't know if that is considered a tragedy to most of the human population but it seems like a personal tragedy to me.
So here I am. It is late and I am tired and all those things I wanted to blog about today are gone.
I know I was feeling passionate about abortion at some point today and angry that more women don't understand that our bodies are a gift from a loving Heavenly Father and not toys for us to do what we please. I was angry that some women don't understand that our freedom to choose comes BEFORE we have sex, not after, and that a part of being sexually active is that no matter how "protected" you think you are, if you choose to have sex you understand that becoming pregnant could be part of that reality.
Then I pondered why so many of us are afraid to take a stand on things. I was thinking about this "Big Love" protest campaign that has been circulating the web and how interesting it was when I chose to forward the email. The reaction from the people I sent it too was fascinating. I would say 1/3 of the people passionately responded, 1/3 of the people passionately responded back to ME to tell me all the things that were wrong with responding, and 1/3 of the people simply deleted it and didn't give it a second thought. While I certainly respect each person's reaction (since I have fallen into every one of those categories at one time or another), I have been thinking that I need to be more vocal about the things I agree or disagree with in my community and world and not just sit back and be complacent. Too often we feel that our one little point of view won't amount to anything but we forget that all those little viewpoints can amount to something big and wonderful. I need to make myself heard more.
I also thought about the book I am supposed to be finished reading by book group Thursday night and how it has over 600 pages and I haven't opened it yet.
I also thought today about what to have for dinner tonight. What a stressful decision. Not only do I get to decide, but then I have to do something about it. I tried to BBQ delicious steaks but my paranoia about feeding my family raw meat and all ending up in a family room at the local hospital led to me way, way, way overcooking the meat. At one point during dinner I saw Jacob banging his meat on the table and giving it a funny look every time it gave a big "thud".
I thought about my darling primary of 180 children and what I was going to do for sharing time this month, the phone calls I need to make, the bills I need to pay, and why my poor daughter kept sneezing all day. It has been a big day for my poor head and I should be in bed.
Wouldn't you love a recording that you could take out of your head each night and file away? What thoughts went through my head on this exact day last year? What was I worried about? What was I excited about? What was going through my head 10 years ago on this day? I guess these questions could all be easily answered by writing in a journal but then that would involve FINDING a journal, locating a pen that works, and not falling asleep in the big blue chair while making my entry...and if I can't make it downstairs to the computer room, then I don't know how I would manage the other. Sigh.
So here I am. It is late and I am tired and all those things I wanted to blog about today are gone.
I know I was feeling passionate about abortion at some point today and angry that more women don't understand that our bodies are a gift from a loving Heavenly Father and not toys for us to do what we please. I was angry that some women don't understand that our freedom to choose comes BEFORE we have sex, not after, and that a part of being sexually active is that no matter how "protected" you think you are, if you choose to have sex you understand that becoming pregnant could be part of that reality.
Then I pondered why so many of us are afraid to take a stand on things. I was thinking about this "Big Love" protest campaign that has been circulating the web and how interesting it was when I chose to forward the email. The reaction from the people I sent it too was fascinating. I would say 1/3 of the people passionately responded, 1/3 of the people passionately responded back to ME to tell me all the things that were wrong with responding, and 1/3 of the people simply deleted it and didn't give it a second thought. While I certainly respect each person's reaction (since I have fallen into every one of those categories at one time or another), I have been thinking that I need to be more vocal about the things I agree or disagree with in my community and world and not just sit back and be complacent. Too often we feel that our one little point of view won't amount to anything but we forget that all those little viewpoints can amount to something big and wonderful. I need to make myself heard more.
I also thought about the book I am supposed to be finished reading by book group Thursday night and how it has over 600 pages and I haven't opened it yet.
I also thought today about what to have for dinner tonight. What a stressful decision. Not only do I get to decide, but then I have to do something about it. I tried to BBQ delicious steaks but my paranoia about feeding my family raw meat and all ending up in a family room at the local hospital led to me way, way, way overcooking the meat. At one point during dinner I saw Jacob banging his meat on the table and giving it a funny look every time it gave a big "thud".
I thought about my darling primary of 180 children and what I was going to do for sharing time this month, the phone calls I need to make, the bills I need to pay, and why my poor daughter kept sneezing all day. It has been a big day for my poor head and I should be in bed.
Wouldn't you love a recording that you could take out of your head each night and file away? What thoughts went through my head on this exact day last year? What was I worried about? What was I excited about? What was going through my head 10 years ago on this day? I guess these questions could all be easily answered by writing in a journal but then that would involve FINDING a journal, locating a pen that works, and not falling asleep in the big blue chair while making my entry...and if I can't make it downstairs to the computer room, then I don't know how I would manage the other. Sigh.
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