This post was actually written in August, but I just couldn’t get it finished and posted. So, while it’s a bit outdated, you may still find something that resonates with you.
Last night I went for a run. I went earlier than I have been going lately because it was a wee bit cooler and it seemed to be getting dark earlier than it has been. I ran my usual course – a course I am so familiar with that straying from it causes my puny body to peter out prematurely. I kept hearing this strange sound as I ran down the sidewalk. I finally realized that the sound was leaves crunching under the weight of my running shoes. I hadn’t heard that sound in months. It dawned on me as I looked up and around at the houses, that I was the only person outside. Where were the kids? I passed this one house where I used to run into a gaggle of boys playing a pick-up game of football in the yard. There was no one in sight. Just a lamp I could see lighting the den. Everything was very quiet. The only thing I could hear, other than those crunchy leaves, was my lumbered breathing. Where was everyone? Where was the noise? The heat?
It was gone - because it is becoming fall and the hustle and bustle of school and the start of everything is beginning anew. Normally, this only affects me in two ways:
1. Much more traffic on the main drag in the city where I work
2. Excessive annoying posts in my news feed on Facebook about football teams, games, players, crappy calls, stupid fans (from opposing teams, of course), tickets for sale, pain, misery, elation, etc.
But this year, it has a different feel. For the first time, I have a child entering kindergarten. This is the first time that school starting will have a significant impact on my life (other than when I was in school). Of course, it will have a greater impact on Kate’s life, but we’re talking about me here. This is the first year of the next 12+ that we will go “back to school”. I am having to change my mindset about being able to keep her and Meg out of school on a Friday so we can go out of town. We will now have to be more deliberate about reading together and discussing what they are learning. We always did that, but now there will need to be more substance to it. I’ll have to be strategic about getting them to bed early since there will be no nap at school. That means I’ll have to be strategic about EVERYTHING that precipitates bedtime. Ugh. I’m getting my first back-to-school headache.
I actually bought school supplies on Sunday. I’ve never had to do that before. All those pitiful looking people digging through the notebooks and folders that I’ve seen through the years – I was one of them. I was trying to be good about buying the “right” kind of pencil pouch. I was afraid that if I got the wrong style or color, Kate would be ostracized on her first day and would never forgive me. There was an off-brand of crayons that I never even considered buying. A kid who shows up without Crayola? A total loser. Past that, I don’t know what the acceptable brands of these items are. Mead? Trapper Keeper? Seems like a kid in my grade got beat up for having a Trapper Keeper so I’ll steer clear of that.
I am utterly clueless about how to parent a kindergartener. When Kate has homework, do I write the answers for her or do I spell everything out to her and let her write the answers that she won’t be able to read? When I ask her what she learned at school today and she responds, “I don’t know” what am I supposed to do? Do I drag it out of her or do I just let her tell me in her own time? She and Meg are starting at a new school this year and we all have some trepidation about that. Do I worry about everything on the front end or do I just let them grow and blossom in their own time and just get out of their way? I realize the answer to that last question of course, but I am not built that way. I worry about all of the possibles instead of just trying to concentrate on any probables. It’s what I do. How am I supposed to let go of all of the things I fear for both of my girls and just allow them to experience this time for themselves?
I realize I don’t have a choice in the matter. They will experience all of the things that are typical of childhood regardless of what I do. They will have good days and they will have bad days. They’ll have best friends one day who won’t speak to them the next. They will compare themselves to other kids and think they come up short. They will be self-conscious. They will be good at some things and not so good as others. They will doubt themselves. But those moments will be fleeting. If Mike and I do our job right, they will get past those feelings and learn to be happy with who they are and proud of the good things they do. I think my most important job is to make sure they feel the love I have for them. If they feel love, then those painful things they’ll experience during the next few years will simply be learning experiences for them. I am smart enough to know this, but I’m not yet seasoned enough to be confident in my ability to lead them through their childhood.
Of course, this IS just their first week of school. Perhaps I should just take it day by day as I am encouraging them to do. I just want so much for both of my girls. There’s not much I can solve for them tonight, so I think I'll focus on what I can do which is to put them to bed so they can get a good night’s sleep. I’ll leave you with this quote:
There are two lasting bequests we can give our children. One is roots. The other is wings.
- Hodding Carter, Jr.
Best of luck to you in establishing roots and providing wings.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Best Day/Worst Day
When I was in high school, the movie City Slickers came out. At the time, I thought it was hilarious. Now that I'm older and understand intelligent, clever comedy, I realize it was really just an average movie. But there was one scene that stood out to me even then. It was a scene in which the men - unhappy in their middle age - begin discussing what were their best and worst days. I struggled then to try and figure out how I would respond to that. Now that I am older and have some experience behind me, I can absolutely answer it.
My best day is kind of hard to pin down. I have had a lot of fun times. I have been able to do many of the things I have wanted to do. For the most part, I have had a very happy life thus far. I have two beautiful children and while nothing has been more significant in my life than having my girls, I can't say that the days they were born were my best days. Kate was born in my 29th week of pregnancy. It was tense and scary. Ultimately it was a wonderful outcome but at the time we were scared to death not knowing if she would be okay. We had no idea what to expect. All we knew was that we would not be taking our baby home for a long time so it wasn't exactly a time to celebrate.
With Meg, my post-partum depression had already kicked in (unbeknownst to me) so I was already in a bit of a downward spiral. Her birth was not as dramatic as Kate's was by any means. I was just kind of already in a fog. We were relieved she was healthy, but at the time, I really was not. I knew I loved her, but I was scared to death at the prospect of having a newborn PLUS a rambunctious almost two year old. Again, the outcome was beautiful. But at the time I wasn't myself. So, neither day can go down as my best day.
What was my best day you may be wondering (if you are still reading)? I would have to say it was the day after I got engaged to Mike. The actual day-of was a pretty crappy day until about 9:00 that night when he popped the question. But that next day I was absolutely floating. I could not get over the sudden appearance of this beautiful ring I thought would never be on my finger. I couldn't wait to talk about it with my family and friends. Mike and I were free to talk about our future together without me fearing I sounded like a a psycho girl trying to sink my claws into the first man who didn't run away screaming. I was so excited and giddy at what my future had in store with this wonderful man. People were so kind and seemed genuinely happy for me. It was a lovely day. Although I was excited beyond words, I could not have known what a wonderful life I would have with him and then with our girls. And things are still going strong.
My worst day, you may have gathered by the date of this post, was September 11, 2001. It was the day after my birthday and the morning after my first quasi-fight with Mike. He and I had come home from my birthday dinner to find that Dudley (my dog and now Mike's step-son) had experienced explosive, projectile diarrhea in our absence. The little gift he had left us was all over Mike's pristine, cream-colored carpet. Mike had spanked him even thought I had told him that Dudley wouldn't understand at that point why he was in trouble. I was angry with Mike for hitting him especially after I had told him not to. I didn't say much to Mike that night after it happened and after we scrubbed and scrubbed his floor (to no avail).
The next morning, I was still irritated with Mike and I had a headache. I had an event later that day on campus where I worked and so I decided to go into work late. I lied down on my couch in the den and closed my eyes listening to the Today Show. That's when I heard about what was going on in New York City. My first thought, like many of yours, was, "Man some air traffic controller is gonna get fired over this". Of course, the whole thing unfolded before my eyes and before the eyes of just about everyone in America that day. I was absolutely stunned at what I was watching. Mike was supposed to be flying to Chicago that day and I grabbed the phone and called him to beg him not to go. Of course, in the end, that decision was made for him.
I remember watching the TV on the phone with my sister when the first tower collapsed. I was hysterical because I thought bombs were going off. It just didn't occur to me that those massive buildings could fall. Before the collapse I was just heartsick watching the images not only of people jumping to their deaths, but seeing those stuck above the impact zone you knew were not likely to make it out. And when the cameras cut to a picture of the Pentagon engulfed in flames, that's when I lost my innocent, naive view of the world forever. This was a deliberate, coordinated attack perpetrated by people who hated us. I couldn't understand that kind of hatred. I don't hate any group of people. Why couldn't these people just live and let live? What on earth would drive them to kill all of these innocent people? There were towers collapsing. The Pentagon was under attack. There were other planes unaccounted for. There was a sickening feeling in my stomach because you just didn't know what was going to happen next. It was the most scared, sad and hopeless I have ever felt in my life.
I ended up going in to work because I just didn't know what else to do. I was scared and felt so alone and helpless. I knew that there had been tremendous loss of life (and I am still flabbergasted and grateful to the public servants and heroes who saw to it that the numbers were not higher that day). I needed to be around people - although I was of no solace to any of them. I needed Mike. (Dudley's little gift the night before was a distant memory.) He and I snuggled up together that night and listened to President Bush and Rudy Giuliani try to calm the public while clearly stating that the people responsible for this would pay. I was grateful for their words. I had a lump in my throat watching our members of congress come together and sing God Bless America. I felt such pride that I really hadn't thought about before about being an American. Sure, I knew I was lucky to have been born and raised in this country, but I never understood what it meant until that day.
I cried a lot that day and in the days to follow. The more TV coverage was on, the more I watched it. I listened to people's stories of loss and stories of survival. There were so many heroic acts that day. I'm sure that there were several acts of heroism that none of us will ever know about because those involved did not live to tell the tales. To this day, I can get absorbed into a 9/11 documentary no matter what I'm doing. I feel like I need to watch those stories in order to honor the dead.
It's been ten years and it as still as vivid to me and to so many as though it was yesterday. It is still so utterly scary and indescribably sad. Our understanding of our world has changed. The world in which our kids will grow up is different than the world we thought we were growing up in. And let's not forget the thousands of people who lost someone they loved that day. So very sad. And still so very real.
I have been glued to the coverage of the tenth anniversary of that horrible day. So much has changed in my life since that day that I am so grateful for. I got engaged and married in 2002. I had my kids. Have had various nieces and nephews. Have had a lot of happy times. But nothing will ever be quite the same for those of us who were living during 9/11. And my experience is nothing compared to those who were there or who lost someone. But it is part of our collective consciousness as a nation. To be an American is to remember where you were and what you were doing that morning. And so, too, is it American to find ways to press on and live a good and happy life.
So, as we mark the decade that has passed since that horrific day, let us hold our loved ones close and never forget how quickly our world can change. Let us find ways to honor those whose duty is to run into the burning buildings as the rest of us run out. And let us all be thankful for every gift that we have. We all have a lot more than we could have. God Bless America indeed.
My best day is kind of hard to pin down. I have had a lot of fun times. I have been able to do many of the things I have wanted to do. For the most part, I have had a very happy life thus far. I have two beautiful children and while nothing has been more significant in my life than having my girls, I can't say that the days they were born were my best days. Kate was born in my 29th week of pregnancy. It was tense and scary. Ultimately it was a wonderful outcome but at the time we were scared to death not knowing if she would be okay. We had no idea what to expect. All we knew was that we would not be taking our baby home for a long time so it wasn't exactly a time to celebrate.
With Meg, my post-partum depression had already kicked in (unbeknownst to me) so I was already in a bit of a downward spiral. Her birth was not as dramatic as Kate's was by any means. I was just kind of already in a fog. We were relieved she was healthy, but at the time, I really was not. I knew I loved her, but I was scared to death at the prospect of having a newborn PLUS a rambunctious almost two year old. Again, the outcome was beautiful. But at the time I wasn't myself. So, neither day can go down as my best day.
What was my best day you may be wondering (if you are still reading)? I would have to say it was the day after I got engaged to Mike. The actual day-of was a pretty crappy day until about 9:00 that night when he popped the question. But that next day I was absolutely floating. I could not get over the sudden appearance of this beautiful ring I thought would never be on my finger. I couldn't wait to talk about it with my family and friends. Mike and I were free to talk about our future together without me fearing I sounded like a a psycho girl trying to sink my claws into the first man who didn't run away screaming. I was so excited and giddy at what my future had in store with this wonderful man. People were so kind and seemed genuinely happy for me. It was a lovely day. Although I was excited beyond words, I could not have known what a wonderful life I would have with him and then with our girls. And things are still going strong.
My worst day, you may have gathered by the date of this post, was September 11, 2001. It was the day after my birthday and the morning after my first quasi-fight with Mike. He and I had come home from my birthday dinner to find that Dudley (my dog and now Mike's step-son) had experienced explosive, projectile diarrhea in our absence. The little gift he had left us was all over Mike's pristine, cream-colored carpet. Mike had spanked him even thought I had told him that Dudley wouldn't understand at that point why he was in trouble. I was angry with Mike for hitting him especially after I had told him not to. I didn't say much to Mike that night after it happened and after we scrubbed and scrubbed his floor (to no avail).
The next morning, I was still irritated with Mike and I had a headache. I had an event later that day on campus where I worked and so I decided to go into work late. I lied down on my couch in the den and closed my eyes listening to the Today Show. That's when I heard about what was going on in New York City. My first thought, like many of yours, was, "Man some air traffic controller is gonna get fired over this". Of course, the whole thing unfolded before my eyes and before the eyes of just about everyone in America that day. I was absolutely stunned at what I was watching. Mike was supposed to be flying to Chicago that day and I grabbed the phone and called him to beg him not to go. Of course, in the end, that decision was made for him.
I remember watching the TV on the phone with my sister when the first tower collapsed. I was hysterical because I thought bombs were going off. It just didn't occur to me that those massive buildings could fall. Before the collapse I was just heartsick watching the images not only of people jumping to their deaths, but seeing those stuck above the impact zone you knew were not likely to make it out. And when the cameras cut to a picture of the Pentagon engulfed in flames, that's when I lost my innocent, naive view of the world forever. This was a deliberate, coordinated attack perpetrated by people who hated us. I couldn't understand that kind of hatred. I don't hate any group of people. Why couldn't these people just live and let live? What on earth would drive them to kill all of these innocent people? There were towers collapsing. The Pentagon was under attack. There were other planes unaccounted for. There was a sickening feeling in my stomach because you just didn't know what was going to happen next. It was the most scared, sad and hopeless I have ever felt in my life.
I ended up going in to work because I just didn't know what else to do. I was scared and felt so alone and helpless. I knew that there had been tremendous loss of life (and I am still flabbergasted and grateful to the public servants and heroes who saw to it that the numbers were not higher that day). I needed to be around people - although I was of no solace to any of them. I needed Mike. (Dudley's little gift the night before was a distant memory.) He and I snuggled up together that night and listened to President Bush and Rudy Giuliani try to calm the public while clearly stating that the people responsible for this would pay. I was grateful for their words. I had a lump in my throat watching our members of congress come together and sing God Bless America. I felt such pride that I really hadn't thought about before about being an American. Sure, I knew I was lucky to have been born and raised in this country, but I never understood what it meant until that day.
I cried a lot that day and in the days to follow. The more TV coverage was on, the more I watched it. I listened to people's stories of loss and stories of survival. There were so many heroic acts that day. I'm sure that there were several acts of heroism that none of us will ever know about because those involved did not live to tell the tales. To this day, I can get absorbed into a 9/11 documentary no matter what I'm doing. I feel like I need to watch those stories in order to honor the dead.
It's been ten years and it as still as vivid to me and to so many as though it was yesterday. It is still so utterly scary and indescribably sad. Our understanding of our world has changed. The world in which our kids will grow up is different than the world we thought we were growing up in. And let's not forget the thousands of people who lost someone they loved that day. So very sad. And still so very real.
I have been glued to the coverage of the tenth anniversary of that horrible day. So much has changed in my life since that day that I am so grateful for. I got engaged and married in 2002. I had my kids. Have had various nieces and nephews. Have had a lot of happy times. But nothing will ever be quite the same for those of us who were living during 9/11. And my experience is nothing compared to those who were there or who lost someone. But it is part of our collective consciousness as a nation. To be an American is to remember where you were and what you were doing that morning. And so, too, is it American to find ways to press on and live a good and happy life.
So, as we mark the decade that has passed since that horrific day, let us hold our loved ones close and never forget how quickly our world can change. Let us find ways to honor those whose duty is to run into the burning buildings as the rest of us run out. And let us all be thankful for every gift that we have. We all have a lot more than we could have. God Bless America indeed.
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