Tuesday Shorts

I've never known how to "talk" to boys.  I've known how to  fight boys and argue with boys.  I know how to force boys to play Barbies with me, or to pick up my housekeeping chores while mom is away.  Now I'm learning how to raise boys.  The only language spoken in my house is boy and I am fluent.  I hear friends talk of daughters and precious things, but it is a language I can't even begin to grasp.  In this world full of boy things where everyone shouts at them to be brave men, how am I to raise my voice above the noise in order to teach them that bravery is actually sensitivity, inclusivity, and respect in disguise?  After that, how do I get them to stop pulling down their pants because they think it's funny?

How do you know heaven exists?  A question I've been rolling around in my mind for the last year.  I have wanted so badly for it to reveal itself to me - without really revealing itself - ya know?  I cling tightly to a book that was recommended to me.  I lose myself in the pages with a fervor of needing to know.  My questions weigh on me like a heavy leaden harness around my shoulders.  I want to be able to talk to my children about heaven with such sureness and love.  But I need someone to talk to me first.  I am begging someone to tell me how certain they are so that I can grasp on to their certainty.  Then suddenly, today I woke up unafraid.  For the first time since I can remember I woke up unafraid of the unknown, undecided, and the end.  Believing is like getting an extra dose of courage, because knowing and believing takes the the weight away.  I am hopeful.  Is this the beginning of unwavering faith?

Today is St. Patrick's Day.  I've always loved this crazy holiday - always until now.  For no explainable reason I find myself dreading this day when everyone is Irish and everyone wears green, drinks green things, and eats delicious food that I never once had while I lived in Northern Ireland.  Maybe I feel like they're trying to lay claim to my Ireland.  So protective of a place that was only mine for a season.

If you ever want to see pain, teach in a Junior High School.  Daily I see pain and sadness walk through my art room door.  I also see happiness and friendship, pride and thoughtfulness.  But the face that stays with me during my drive home from work is insecurity and uncertainty.  I want to stop them as they leave my classroom and hug them.  I want to look into their eyes and say Everything gets better and You are amazing.  I want to scare their insecurities away.

Every morning I wake up and whisper a prayer full of lists.  Sitting hunched over my knees with my fingertips touching lightly together like the steeple, I go through a list of gratitude and thankfulness.  I go through a list of others needing prayer. I list the many ways I need forgiveness and strength.  When the lists have been run through and exhausted, I pray for time.  I pray for time to give to the things that have been labeled important by myself and others.  I pray for time to give completely to my family. I pray for time to be creative and to do creative things.  How thin can time be stretched over the course of a week?  I am always praying for more time.

That time I said "no" to everything.

First of all, let me begin by saying that if you are looking forward to surgery because you will be on forced bedrest for up to two weeks, then you have clearly overscheduled your life.

{And I know that about 80% of you reading this have just gone off into a daydream involving your feet up on the couch with an iced tea on one side, and the entire first season of House of Cards in front of you.}

That was me two weeks ago.  I had surgery scheduled on February 2nd. I was ordered to take a 2 week recovery free of work, school, walking, lifting, and all things in my human nature.  Throw in my part-time status first semester (less sick time), and the thought of being out of my classroom for two solid weeks - then shrink 15 days down to more like 10 - and me returning on Friday - today. 

When I agreed to the surgery I gave myself a good ol' fashion pep talk about what it would mean to completely clear my calendar for two full weeks.  

I want all of you to look at your calendar a month from now and just try to clear it without feeling guilty.  Now do it with a doctor's note.

Sidenote: I just wrote a sentence here about it being "so hard", but I quickly erased it because that would be a big fat lie designed to make it sound like I wasn't ecstatically cancelling things left and right like a wanderlust hitting the road.  Let's just say, it wasn't hard at all.

Once I had a perfectly valid medical reason, it was the easiest thing - guilt free freedom from all obligations.  Even household obligations - I could practically hear the angels singing as I cleared away every appointment from my overcrowded life.

And so on February 2nd, as scheduled, it began.  The first few days are a bit of a blur, but no less magical.
I haven't run a vacuum because, doctor's orders!
I haven't washed my family's sheets because, doctor's orders!
I haven't been to ceramics class, counseling, Korean class, Bible Study, church, or even work, because, well doctor's orders.
Friends, I haven't cooked a single solitary meal. 

Y'all....I have been given the gift of time and sweet sweet indulgence.

People even brought me flowers.  So I have been given the gift of sweet indulgent time surrounded by beautiful flowers and Netflix.


Now here's the weird and secret part that I'm almost embarrassed to say...
It isn't nearly as lovely as I had imagined and dreamed of all those months when the opportunity to just sit in my house by myself for twenty minutes seemed like the most delicious gift in the world.

I can hear the figurative jeering and tomato throwing from all of the overworked people of the world now - HOW DARE I NOT APPRECIATE EVERY MINUTE.

Oh believe me, I appreciated it, but I also learned something about myself...

I don't want to do nothing, and I would imagine that no one really wants to sit in their home all day with not a single appointment/date/meeting to look forward to.

The reason I over-schedule is because I like stuff.  I like Bible Studies.  I like taking a Tuesday night ceramics class.  I like meeting a friend for coffee.  I like shooting pictures.  I like teaching private art lessons after school.

But I also like being home when Miles walks in the door with a bag full of homework.  I like having the freedom to pick him up from school.  I like fixing my kids breakfast and writing down how our day is going to look. 

So where is the balance?


There is this intense pressure to figure it out before it is too late.  Our ears and eyes are pounded with voices and articles chanting, "regret, regret, regret" - soft voices that rise in volume when an email appears in your inbox asking you to volunteer for your son's fieldtrip, or you show up for class a little less prepared than you'd like.

But would I regret those things if I gave up the things I like? Is it at all possible that having a full schedule could in fact be a blessing that just needs to be kept in check every once in awhile?

And does this blessing actually already give me permission to quit when I'm weary, say no when I'm spent?  Should I in fact listen to the people who say, "You can't do it all" instead of trying to prove them all wrong?

Why do we need a doctor's note to say "no"?

Non-trad

Last night I was a student for the first time since Liam has been born. I wasn't nervous.  I wasn't dreading it.  I actually pretty excited.

For some reason night class is a lot easier to go to when you are getting out of bath time rather than missing out on valuable socializing in your college apartment. 

Basically I'm taking an advanced ceramics course at the local college.  I'm a non-trad student in a room full of 19-20-somethings.  It's daunting.  And weird.  And I totally feel like an old lady for the first time in my adult life.

Back in college non-traditional students had the reputation of asking too many questions and knowing too many answers.  In other words, they actually appeared to be trying, which already set them a world apart from the rest of us.  

This was not going to be me. 

So last night I slipped on my leggings and Converse (because isn't that what all the kids are wearing these days?) determined not to stand out or be labeled. 

It lasted approximately 3.5 minutes.  The rest of the time I spent asking too many questions, knowing too many answers, and getting in everyone's way.

Random.

Today is the type of day where I just feel like sitting down and letting words fall out of me. 

This is officially the first "snow day" of the year.  And boy did I need it.  I mean, I didn't really need it, but I did really need it, you know?  Going back to work has been both wonderful and sad at the same time.  I don't want to go back to staying home, but I also find myself bitter of the 50 minutes I spend in my car everyday. Perhaps that is the control freak in me.  Who knows.

I am finally reading the book, The Lowland by my favorite author, Jhumpa Lahiri.  It was a book one of my friends gave me as a gift when they found out Unaccostumed Earth was my favorite book in the history of ever.  It's taken me two years to pick it up.  Part of me was afraid I wouldn't love it with all my heart.  I do love it.  I love her words.  I wish I could create just one thing as beautiful as her writing. 

When I first came back from Northern Ireland my dream job was to work in a bakery.  Not to own a bakery, but to knead dough and throw together pastries - homemade croissants and pop tarts with preserves from my garden.  I wanted to be the worker that unlocked the doors at 3 am and clocked out at 10.  It was a dream I quickly forgot as the year got away from me and it seemed impossible to live on a part-time hourly salary while still allowing my other half to do what he loves and also paying for the education I insisted on getting. All of the sudden I want that again and it fills the thoughts in my days.  An obsession.

Sometimes I love my kids so much that it hurts my heart.  These are times when I'm not consumed with a clean house or with fixing dinner.  Times when everyone has frozen in a moment that surrounds me.  Bedtime is the biggest contributor.  Saying their prayers and kissing me goodnight.  The tightening in my chest feels like it could suffocate me as I shoo away feelings of dread and despair. I can't stand to live in fear of losing a single one of them.  I don't understand how people move on after a tragedy.  I pray I never understand.

 

Day 365: Last Day

Where can I even begin this post?

How about at the point I forgive myself for not being able to live up the the unrealistic expectations I sometimes place on myself.

No one noticed that I didn't actually post every single day in 2014, like I had mentioned I would do here, did they?

Don't worry, I've long ago forgiven myself, so you should do the same.
Not that I want to tell you what to do.

But it's my blog, so I guess I can at least ask you to just ignore my inadequacies.

Let's move on...

Tonight I will watch the ball drop.  Or maybe I won't.  I haven't decided yet.  The great thing about getting older is that the pressure of doing amazing things on special days has lost its charm.  Instead I want to do amazing things on ordinary days and leave the special days to the young people while I respectfully observe my 10:00 bedtime. 

Today, like anyone with a pulse living the Gregorian calendar, I was reflecting on my 2014. 

This year has been a big year - but I could pretty much say that about every year I've had since I turned 10.  Probably every year before as well.  That's the funny thing about years in our lives - they continuously change.  They continuously mold us into different people.  (I still don't really remember 2010, but I'm sure that's because it changed me so much.)

These years shape us.  In my case, this year has shaped me into a squishy blob of culinary contentment. (A nice way of saying "extra weight gain".)  But it has also shaped me into some semblance of the mother I want to be - the sister and daughter I want to be.  I like myself a lot more than I used to, and one can never complain about that.

So today I'm thankful for another year. 

Another year to be a mother to my three favorite boys on the planet.
Another year to work on being a sister that is understanding and forgiving.
Another year to strive to be a gracious and helpful daughter.
Another year to become a better teacher.
Another year to love my friends.
Another year to sleep, eat, and work alongside the only adult person I want to be around every single day.

And another few days to binge-watch Netflix.  I'm also thankful for that.

p.s. I can't wait to tell you all about my Christmas.  It was EPIC...(if "epic" to you means potty training and gaining 20 pounds in Christmas cookies and Buckeyes.)

Day 348: Oy.

Birthday boy with birthday spoils

Someday you may show up at the movie theater without your kid on his birthday.

I'm not saying that you for sure will do this.  I'm just throwing out there that you may do it.

You may have a perfect birthday plan for him that you've been going over and over with him for three days in a row.  You may go over this plan with your husband, and you may blissfully go about your day thinking that everything is going to fall into place perfectly.

You may even be so on top of your game that you find a babysitter for your other two kids so that your middle son can have you and your husband all to himself.  You may drop him off at the church in the afternoon for a play date, promising that his dad will pick him up and that you'll see him at the movie theater - in anticipation of the movie he's been begging to see for weeks.

Once he's safely tucked away at the church with a handful of activities and his most favorite people, you may decide to do some Christmas shopping that you've been putting off.  You may or may not receive cryptic text messages from your husband about the evening plans, and you may or may not be annoyed that he seemingly wasn't listening when you made the plans.

At around 4:00 you may arrive at the movie theater and buy three tickets for Big Hero 6, along with a giant popcorn for all of you to share.  You may eat 1/3 of it while you're waiting for the other two to arrive.

Finally you may see your husband walk up, and when he opens the door to the theater, you ask him where Liam is.  He may look at you with a confused stare, followed by glances around his feet like your son is just hiding underfoot like a cat.

You may panic.
You may start crying.
You may realize that one of you was supposed to pick him up half an hour ago and that it will take at least that to get back to the church.

You may get in the car and with shaky hands, try to find a phone number that will connect you to the adults on the other end.  You may say things like, "I can't believe we forgot our son ON HIS BIRTHDAY!"

Eventually you would probably get there, only to realize that no one is panicked and people have words of grace and stories of their own.  You would probably apologize endlessly.

You may realize once you're back in the car, and headed to another theater that everything is going to be okay.  You would probably decide that another $25 is okay to spend on a movie you already have tickets to, all things considered, but you would definitely chow down on the popcorn in the car to save buying another one.

Your son will probably spend all evening saying things like, "Thank you for letting me stay longer with Mrs. Kim and Mr. Mark.  I got to stay there the LONGEST!"  You may feel like you got away with this one.

Then three days later your son, out of nowhere, may ask you, "Why did you and Dad forget to pick me up on my birthday?"

Today I am thankful for gracious adults that take such good care of my children, especially when I'm not always on top of my game.

Day 342: Liam

Dear 5 Year Old, Full of Sass, Liam,

Today you turn 5, and it is a day that has been anticipated and planned and dreamed about for many weeks.  Perhaps it is the first birthday you'll remember as an adult, and look back on with fond memories. 
But probably not, because you never forget anything.

My life is so much fuller with you in it.  Full of cuddling (your favorite thing to do), music, dancing, laughter, and even arguments.

You are a firecracker in this big dull world, and I hope your light never goes out.  I hope you never stop questioning things (although you could stop questioning EVERYTHING. I. DO. for awhile and that would be nice).  I hope you never stop trying to make people laugh.  I hope you never stop dancing and singing without abandon.  I hope you are always proud to be yourself.

This early morning there is a new teepee and tap shoes waiting for you under the Christmas lights you so eagerly hung.  I can't wait for you to open them.  Because you live life in a constant state of excitement, I love living it with you.

Today I am thankful you are in my life.

I'll love you forever little luchóg.
xoxo
Your mom.