tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71258065035990424222024-02-02T17:19:04.391-05:00Is It Morning Already?One Mom.
Three Kids.
Real life from the crack of dawn....Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.comBlogger711125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-74505476772493864452019-07-11T20:17:00.000-04:002019-07-11T20:17:29.590-04:00And now it is summer....<span style="font-size: large;">Gosh, in my last post it was January and Trey was taking midterms. Now he is finished with his Junior Year (can I get a FREAKING GLORY HALLELUJAH here?!) and summer is about five weeks in.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Life is good right now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Trey actually did reasonably well his Junior Year, grades are locked in. He has completed college testing. Essay is written (but needs a bit more amending) and activities have been recorded. He's at camp for this month but upon his return it will be college application time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yep, you read that right. He is indeed planning on applying to colleges and seems to be very positive about that idea now, much more so than at the midpoint of his Junior Year. Ultimately it is his decision, of course, but comments to his pediatrician and guidance counselor in June seem to point strongly in that direction for him. He tested well for the colleges on his list.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Changes are coming fast for the other two as well. Chris is working at the FTC this summer as an intern and then will be studying in Amsterdam for the first semester of his Junior Year of college. Crazy!! I am super excited for him. Chris is an Adventurer and I know he will soak up this opportunity to travel and see part of the world.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Kate has taken on a new position at her school and is also continuing to work on her Master's degree at Penn State. Very proud of her! Bobby changed jobs and seems much happier and more challenged at his new place of business.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Rob is doing well although he has had a couple of minor health concerns pop up recently. Luckily he will be able to work through them over time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As for me, I am looking forward to this new chapter that is coming over the next year. I have been a parent for 24 years now and that is a long time to devote one's time and energy to... and let's face it, to some degree your identity. Over time I think I lost some sense of myself, and battled back toward it over the past five years. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">This year though I am really moving things along. First, I took an "as needed" job as a Concierge at a CCRC not far from home. I am enjoying the people and the work, and it is an excellent way to dip my toe in the pool. Being as needed, I can accept the shifts I want to and turn down the ones I don't, which allows me the freedom to manage the home, husband and kid when things get hairy, plus travel when the opportunity presents (like in October, to Amsterdam!)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Even more exciting, though, is that I am beginning the certification process to become a Postpartum Doula and a Lactation Counselor. These are areas I feel passionate about and I feel that my knowledge and skill sets will be well used here. I can work for myself, as little or as much as I want or that family life will allow, plus the skills I learn will be useful for future Moms and grand babies hopefully in my own household as well!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My training is in New York City in a week. OMG! Nervous, excited, doubtful and hopeful.. all the feelings! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">That's the update from here. We are chugging along, and some of us are getting off a new station!</span>Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-71294435126112895962019-01-19T07:04:00.000-05:002019-01-19T07:04:05.530-05:00Growing up<span style="font-size: large;">Last night, late, around 10 PM, I picked Trey up from his last track meet of the season.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">In a radical departure for me as a parent, I did not attend a single track meet. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Why? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">First, because they are LONG. Crazy long. Like, this one was seven hours long, 45 minutes away each way, for him to compete twice at five minutes each time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Second, because after the second week of track practice, he asked if he could quit. He wasn't enjoying it bc his friends weren't on the team this year. I get that, for sports Trey is much more about the social aspect than the competition or sport itself. I told him no, but when the play practices kicked in he could back off of it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, given that he didn't really care about his performance and didn't want to be there much himself, my motivation to go was pretty darn low!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">That being said, I WILL give a nod to him that the last two track meets of the season, once the play practices had begun in earnest, he technically didn't have to go to. Kids do skip track meets frequently it seems. I gave him my opinion and then left it up to him as to whether he would go or not. He chose to go, and he fulfilled the commitment he made when he joined the team. I was so pleased by this. Those meets are so long and so boring, and yet he made himself do the right thing. Good boy!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">•••</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Kate and Bobby successfully created their own cell phone account and have transferred their numbers over. I have one less phone line to pay for and they have completed another step of adulting! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Bobby starts his new job soon. I am excited for him and hope it is what he wants it to be. They will be moving closer to me soon and I am super excited about that too!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">•••</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Chris has been preparing/studying for the LSAT over Christmas Break. That kid has great motivation and drive. He got his highest score yet on a practice test- 169! VERY WELL DONE, Chris. I am proud of you!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">•••</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Midterms are over for Trey and a new quarter is starting. I am so glad. Fresh slate and hopefully better grades this quarter.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I had a nice conversation with him in the car last night, which is somewhat of a rarity in and of itself.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He said he was pleased with his ACT score. I agreed that it was great in English and with his score he will likely get into a couple of colleges on his list, but that he will need to retake it for the math/science part. He already knows this- we discussed it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I then said that we would be having conversations this year- he, his dad and I. About what he wants to do next, what his ideas and visions are for himself. I told him we don't want to force him into anything.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">He agreed that he absolutely knew this and commented that he didn't feel forced and that he wasn't the kind of kid who could be forced anyway.. that once he turned 18 he could ultimately make his own decisions. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I agreed and said that we would be supportive of course, but that it could be hard to be an 18 year old out there on his own, if parents were not supportive.. having to pay rent, buy food etc.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yeah, but I know myself and I could do it," he replied. "I know who I am and I am a strong person. I like myself. I would eat a lot of eggs; they are cheap and the perfect nutritional food."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I agreed and smiled at him but inside my heart sang. Things aren't always easy for this kid but what he has said to me tonight is that he feels happy with himself, he feels settled in himself right now. He believes in himself. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I have really been unsure about that and worried about that. Above all else, that is most important. College or not, great grades or not, that will take him a long way in this life when things get hard. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">You go, Boy.</span>Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-86078413370239768712019-01-17T08:34:00.003-05:002019-01-17T08:37:08.936-05:0017<span style="font-size: large;">He skulks into the kitchen on this, his second morning of midterms.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">At newly turned 17, he has an XXX Tentacion black hoodie on, hood up. This, apparently, is a rapper who was shot dead in a car a while ago. He felt the loss acutely and this was one of his most wanted Christmas present. I bought it for him, even though from what I had read about this young man, he wasn't the greatest human being on the planet by a long shot, but it mattered to my son. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I've made sausages for his breakfast and ask him if he'd also like a waffle. I have to be looking at him when I ask him this, as the chances of getting a verbal response are slim. He nods slightly and I put one in the oven to warm.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">His hoodie is not uniform appropriate. His shoes are on the kitchen island, although he has been told time and time again to only put his shoes on the floor. I choose to ignore these things today. He has two midterms this morning and it is more important to me to get him off to school in a reasonably good state of mind. The conflict is not worth it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I sat through a Parent Meeting at his school this week. There was much talk about students not being in uniform, technology overuse and misuse, and so forth. Over and over again, the blame came back to the parents. They shouldn't be letting them leave the house in leggings/ jeggings etc. They should care more. Do more. Say more. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I sat quietly.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Here's what I didn't say: </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">There are so many battles to fight. With an easier kid, you fight the small battles. In fact, it is often not a battle at all. You say no, the kid doesn't do it, end of story.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">One of us could be fighting endless battles, all day long.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">One of us is trying to get her kid to get through high school in one piece, when he doesn't like it and doesn't see the point. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">One of us is choosing to put her energy into trying to keep his GPA up to a reasonable level, so that he has options available to him, even if he chooses not to use them, because then she at least fulfilled her role of doing the best she could to provide them.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">One of us is trying to keep what little communication she has with her kid to be as positive as possible, because if he shuts down completely, what is she to do then?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My frustration is acute, my anger simmers. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I used to flow with milk, enough to feed a small village of children it seemed. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Now I try hard to flow with grace, to bite my tongue, to realize that this is a stage, a long stage, that will eventually pass.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I am grateful for my husband and my other two children, who acknowledge in a variety of ways that I am a good parent, a good mother, that I am not failing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I try to realize how it feels to be him: </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He wants to be creating music, he wants to leave this life of academics he doesn't care about, of tests he doesn't want to take, of having to be somewhere and pretend to be someone he is not. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He just wants to be left alone to do what he wants to do, and the pressures he feels are tremendous.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">This child may not go to college. I am realizing that slowly, and his Dad is not realizing it yet. He may need a gap year, he may not go at all, he may need time to try to make it on his own and then decide to go later. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Maybe he will go. But I am letting go of the expectation that OF COURSE HE WILL and opening my mind to what will possibly make him happy, even if that wasn't what I thought it would be.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We pull up to the school after a silent ride, in which I listened to the radio. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He goes to open the door, and I say "Good luck on your midterms."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Thanks" he responds.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Pushing my luck, I say "I love you" as he grabs his bag.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Love you too" he mutters as the door closes.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I drive home, sustained by those words for another day. </span><br />
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Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-55030622650696319452017-04-29T10:54:00.000-04:002017-04-29T10:54:05.206-04:00Roller Coaster Life!Well, apparently it is having three kids at this particular age and stage of their lives and mine that has really set the roller coaster in motion.<br />
<br />
It's not that we haven't had rocky times parenting. There were periods for certain that were incredibly challenging. Fortunately, however, they seemed to really only affect one child at a time, with the others paddling along independently while we worried about and righted the child who had drifted off course.<br />
<br />
Not this year.<br />
<br />
I have not ever experienced the feelings of upheaval in parenting as I have this year. Plus, in some kind of freaking sick cosmic joke, my hormones are going kerflooey at the exact same time, turning me into either a emotional lunatic or a Bawling Betty-- neither of which I like AT ALL.<br />
<br />
Teen hormones and Menopause hormones should not occur at the same time!<br />
<br />
Prior to this year, I would say that the teen years have been amongst my favorite years of child rearing. And at times they still are. But now I get why people say that they are the most difficult years. That is true as well.<br />
<br />
I know that things will get better; like the newborn stage, I will look back on this time and think that it wasn't so bad. My parents and others ahead of me assure me that this is true.<br />
<br />
I'm choosing to believe it!Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-55500833423710310172017-04-05T16:34:00.001-04:002017-04-05T16:34:16.098-04:00KILLING MEDear Youngest Child of Mine,<br />
<br />
Kid. You are killing me.<br />
<br />
I get that I was not an easy teen myself and that perhaps I have been somewhat spoiled.<br />
<br />
I get that you don't like to read, but somehow you must have read and memorized the chapter on how to be a <strike>challenging</strike> textbook teenager.<br />
<br />
Dude, you are wearing me OUT right now.<br />
<br />
I feel like I don't know what to do with you right now. Your potential and smarts are high but they aren't being reflected in your school work. Your behavior at school is earning you emails to your parents. Your sweet-sour attitude at home is wearing thin.<br />
<br />
Are you bored at school? Are you having attention issues that need to be addressed? Do you think you know better than your teachers and so you only have to follow the rules that you think are relevant or important or fair?<br />
<br />
I don't even know what the heck the issue is but I do know this: you have had three strikes, my friend. Three emails in a month's time from your school and the SHIT IS ABOUT TO HIT THE FAN when you get home.<br />
<br />
Remember Baby Boot Camp? Well, it's coming back and it isn't going to be pretty.Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-25938186508747720212016-09-14T10:21:00.003-04:002016-09-14T10:22:08.384-04:00Memoir Prompt: DecisionsMemoir Prompt:<br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: , "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Day 12: Decisions. I've been reading The Things They Carried and I feel gutted. In one passage he talks about the decision of whether to fight in Vietnam or run to Canada. "Twenty yards. I could've jumped and started swimming for my life. Inside me, in my chest, I felt a terrible squeezing pressure. . . What would you do? Would you jump? Would you feel pity for yourself? Would you think of your family and your childhood and your dreams and all you're leaving behind? Would it hurt? Would it feel like dying? Would you cry, as I did?" Write about a decision. A wrenching decision. A decision that changed your course. How did you decide? What did it feel like? Who did it affect? 8 minutes. Don't hold back.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: , "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">••••••••••••••••••••</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: , "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've always known I wanted to have children.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: , "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: , "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A love of children is the one thing in my life that I can trace back to my earliest days (well, that and crushes on boys...)</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: , "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As a child, I would arrange my stuffed animals and dolls in a "classroom." I would make up </span></span><span style="font-family: , "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">lesson plans, take attendance, and even had a grade book in which I would carefully pass or fail them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: , "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I told my parents, with great confidence, that I was going to have 100 children.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: , "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I babysat from the very moment I was allowed to do so.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: , "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I worked in the church nursery.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: , "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">When I left to go to college, I spent COUNTLESS hours volunteering in the lab classrooms on campus, working with special needs children under the age of three. And I do mean countless.. which then evolved into my first full time adult job.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: , "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Rob and I got married fairly young and started our family fairly young, by today's standards. I had just turned 26 when our first child was born.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: , "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">I have never, ever regretted having children, although there were certainly moments when I </span>could have easily gotten into the car like Marie Osmond did and driven far, far away.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: , "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There have been times, big fat blocks of time, in which I lost track of who I was, outside of being a mother. Times when I truly felt depressed and overwhelmed and completely drowned in the needs of children and a husband and raising a family.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: , "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Times of overwhelming joy, times of heartbreak, times of white hot rage and boundless pride.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: , "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Times when the little girl I was would be so proud of her Mommying and times when she would be beyond horrified at her own future actions or words.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: , "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now that my kids are growing older and up and out of the house, I spend time trying to decide things about this next phase of life: What does it look like? What is my role? Who am I now and what do I want for MYSELF. Do I even remember how to answer these questions anymore?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: , "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Time will tell.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: , "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">••••••••</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: , "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If you want to play along, Go here: <a href="http://anndeeellis.com/2016/09/11/day-12/" target="_blank">http://anndeeellis.com/2016/09/11/day-12/</a></span>Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-5962363853869727572016-09-07T10:12:00.001-04:002016-09-07T10:12:46.040-04:00Being EightMemoir Prompt: <span style="background-color: white; color: #424242; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Day 9: 8. Write about being 8 years old. Do you remember? Where did you live? Who were your friends? What did you do? What were you siblings like? What did your mom do? What did your dad say? What did you hope for?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #424242; font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #424242; font-family: Lato, sans-serif;">•••••••••••••••••</span><br />
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<span style="color: #424242; font-family: Lato, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Being 8 was being in Mrs. Hutchens' second grade classroom. I remember her as being blonde and fairly round- not necessarily heavy but in the plump, matronly kind of way that kids perceive pretty much all women of a certain age. I'm guessing she was probably in her early fifties. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #424242; font-family: Lato, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Being 8 was still playing hard at recess. It never occurred to us girls to just stand around and titter about the boys.. nope, we were all in. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #424242; font-family: Lato, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Being 8 was having a crush on both Grant Lindsey and Derek Langford. Oh, and Peter Ellison too! </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #424242; font-family: Lato, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Being 8 was cheating at school for the first time (yes, I said the first time. I admit it.) and lying to my teacher. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #424242; font-family: Lato, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Being 8 was being clueless enough to tell my Mom, on the drive home, what I had done, not as a confession but as a story of my success.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #424242; font-family: Lato, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Being 8 was realizing that was really dumb when your Mom turns the car around and takes you back into the school so you can apologize to the teacher. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #424242; font-family: Lato, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">(Well done, Mom. Exactly the right move.)</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #424242; font-family: Lato, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Being 8 was a hot summer in Texas, with watermelon on the Fourth of July and seed spitting contests using the big black seeds, then watching fireworks and holding sparklers, feeling like the luckiest kid in the world.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #424242; font-family: Lato, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Being 8 was living in that childhood space where life wasn't yet complex.. I was vaguely aware of adult problems but they had </span>nothing to do with me. Being 8 was living the freedom of childhood and being blissfully unaware of the changes the next few years would bring.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #424242; font-family: Lato, sans-serif;">Being 8 was pretty darn awesome.</span>Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-63366816849069645712016-08-26T20:27:00.003-04:002016-08-26T20:27:26.867-04:00Memoir Prompt: Little ThingsMemoir Prompt: <span style="background-color: white; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Write about something little that means a lot. Maybe something someone made you. Maybe something you made. Maybe something you found. Maybe something you inherited or won. Write about something that no one else would love the way you do. Little Things. 8 minutes. No editing. No stopping. No worrying.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Interestingly, I struggled with this prompt today. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: proxima-nova, Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">The fact is, I am not a collector of STUFF. I have a few first outfits, first pair of shoes, that kind of thing. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: proxima-nova, Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">A few school papers from each grade, although I think I will end up getting rid of most of that in time.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: proxima-nova, Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">Definitely some love letters from summers apart from Rob, but by and large, not a lot of "little things."</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: proxima-nova, Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">As I thought about it more, though, there is one category of thing that means a great deal to me and always has: photographs.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: proxima-nova, Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">My Mom had a double door cabinet in our house in Houston, stuffed absolutely full of packets of photographs. I remember sitting for hours and hours on the floor behind the couch in the family room, opening each sleeve of pictures, studying them, then putting them away (somewhat carefully but never carefully enough!) before moving on to the next. I would lay out Christmas card pictures my parents had received and consider how the children had changed and grown from year to year. The ones I didn't know, I made up stories about in my head.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: proxima-nova, Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">My love of pictures (taking them and viewing them) has stayed strong through the years. I have kept the Christmas card pictures we receive from year to year, storing them on binder rings to enjoy each holiday. I am not an overly social creature, so being behind a lens allows me to participate in a more removed fashion, which is especially useful at parties!</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: proxima-nova, Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">In my house, we call the DSLR the "fourth child" and the kids know it is a pricey piece of equipment and to treat it with respect. The Fourth Child has seen most major events in our family and recorded them for us to keep. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: proxima-nova, Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">One thing I love about the camera is that it captures things that I might have missed. For example, at my husband's grandmother's 100th birthday party, I was taking pictures of her being sung to and blowing out the candles on her cake, surrounded by her great grandchildren. It was a beautiful moment and I was so glad to capture it. What I missed, and later was able to see in the photographs, were the tears of joy and sadness shining in the eyes of her two </span></span></span><span style="font-family: proxima-nova, Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">daughters.. sisters sharing a moment of joy and pain and love. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: proxima-nova, Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">My camera has caught the little things- shared glances, teenage angst and growing pains, bellyflop contests and parties, Christmases upon Christmases. It has captured the multitude of little things, noticed and unnoticed, that make up our lives, and made them a permanent record. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: proxima-nova, Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">So for me, "little moments" that tell the tale of our lives, captured in photographs.. the little things. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: proxima-nova, Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span>Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-32440867515654999802016-08-25T08:21:00.001-04:002016-08-25T08:21:27.067-04:00Memoir Prompt: AdventureGreat memoir prompt! Anndeecandy wrote: "<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit;">Day 4: Adventure. "This is the story of how Baggins had an adventure, and found himself doing things and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours' respect, but he gained--well, you will see whether he gained anything in the end."' </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit;">Want to participate in the Memoir writing? Go to Anndeecandy or type #8minutememoir on Instagram. :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit;">•••••••••••••••</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit;">I have a strong sense of adventure. Or </span></span>rather<span style="font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit;">, my </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">brain does. After having careened wildly through the years up until about age 30, my brain finally started slowing down enough for me to become more introspective.. to be able to look inward and and to begin to be PROactive instead of REactive.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My brain has a strong tendency to be sleepy. Since having my youngest child and watching his development, I have associated my brain as having ADD, in the literal sense. Meetings are painful, paperwork is a struggle. My difficulty with schooling through my early years until high school began to make sense. While I crave the structure of a routine and some semblance of schedule (as is proven to me by about mid-July of every summer) I find that without some adventure to plot, I sleepwalk through my life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Give me something novel, particularly an adventure of any kind, and my brain comes gloriously alive! It is at these times that I believe I am my best self, although I can also move into hyper focusing and then drive myself and others around me to tears. :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Most recently, my sense of adventure was satiated with a six week long summer trip that I took with my two sons. Nearly two years in the planning, it gave me something fun to obsess over and obsess I did! There was so much to read about and plan! Lodging to be rented, activities to be booked, routes to plan. Everywhere that I go, I like to plan things to be as "local" as possible, so we try to stay in neighborhoods or Mom and Pop joints, and we like to find hole-in-the-wall places to eat that the locals enjoy. We also try hard to eat what is special to that place or region. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We also jumped off the cliff into physical adventure! Nine national parks and many state parks. Rappelling, Canyoneering, Hiking Bungee swinging over a gorge, Ziplining, Extreme 4x4 Rock Crawling and more. It took me a year, the loss of 65 pounds and some major training to prepare my body, but I did it. It was the "Summer of Yes," as in YES we can do that and YES I can and YES to every picture in every place possible. And now, looking back a year later, YES all those things were accomplished and I don't regret a single minute or a single penny spent.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Oddly, that adventure was both so exhausting and so fulfilling that my sense of adventure, maybe for the first time in my life, has been somewhat satiated. I don't have the craving that I have felt all my life, deep in my bones, to be somewhere else, on the run, planning the next big thing. The restlessness has been dormant and I have been more of a homebody than I can recall being at any other time in my life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Still, I am beginning to feel a flickering again. There is so much out there to explore, and so little time in which to do it all! Accents I have yet to hear, foods I have yet to try, sights and sounds and smells and adventures yet to unfold before me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Ain't life grand?</span>Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-23204479444053865552016-08-22T20:35:00.002-04:002016-08-22T20:35:36.614-04:00Memoir Prompt: Billboards<br />
Road Trips: pretty much a given in Americana childhoods.<br />
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Who doesn't remember being on an endless road trip growing up with their parents and siblings?<br />
I certainly do!<br />
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Road trips were sliding around in the back of the station wagon, and one lucky year, getting to lay back there to sleep while our parents were in the front seat, driving through the night. I remember laying there looking out at the sky, soothed by the road noise and feeling the expansiveness of the world and my small place in it.<br />
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Road trips were the excuse for crappy handheld games, but it was all we knew and so we loved them.. you knew it too, as COLECO! Coleco basketball, Coleco football- those are the two I remember. Little red DOTS for God's sake, yet my brother Richard played the games with rapt attention. I played them some too.. it was a road trip and I was desperate!<br />
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Road trips were the fun "Yes and No" Invisible Ink books, that I have since shared with my own kids, who were decidedly less impressed than I had been.<br />
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Road trips were "What city are we in?" "What state are we in?" "What country are we in?" Possibly simple questions for some, but not for a ten year old dreamer, staring out the window and singing a song. Tears would ensue after incessant badgering from the front seat.<br />
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Road trips were searching a map from top to bottom, left to right for probably a full hour, searching for a town called "Red Stick" according to my Dad, which I will never forget for the rest of my life, is instead Baton Rouge. ;)<br />
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Road trips were stories made up and continued for years, quite literally years, by my brother and I called "Hegge and Eggy." Little creatures that were made up of our second and third fingers, who would walk around and talk and, more than anything, be INCREDIBLY NAUGHTY and ILL BEHAVED and according to my Mother, EXCEEDINGLY LOUD AND ANNOYING.<br />
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Road trips were the "Quiet Game" (after too many episodes of Hegge and Eggy, natch) ONE TWO THREE QUIET! and a few seconds later, the inevitable fart, or burp, or giggle.<br />
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Road trips were "Don't make me pull this car over!" and an arm reaching around from the front seat to slap and pinch wildly at the shorts-clad legs in the back seat, while Richard and I would simultaneously be trying to move our own legs out of the way while getting our sibling's legs slapped or pinched.<br />
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Road trips were "He's on my side!" "She's touching me!"<br />
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Finally, road trips were the billboards on the side of the road while playing the Alphabet Game. The game would go fast and furious until we got to the letter Q, and then the great anticipatory wait for the La Quinta Inn would set in. It only occurred to me today that we weren't even out of Houston City Limits at that point. My poor parents. :D<br />
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Kids today may have their iPads and iPods and movies, but on the other hand, they have no idea what they are missing!<br />
<br />Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-12943074663228104232016-08-19T06:57:00.003-04:002016-08-19T06:57:52.663-04:00Memoir Prompt: I Don't Remember<br />
My Dad called me on the phone last night.<br />
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Long story short, he had read the blog entry from the other day, and he was touched by it. Perhaps more than that, though, he said in a cracking voice that he didn't remember that moment.<br />
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He went on to share that I remember him as perhaps a better father than he was, that when he reflects back on how he parented, he does not remember moments such as these but the things he did that he is less proud of.<br />
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I've thought a lot about that, both last night and also since I have become a parent. I've wondered what will rise to the surface, what my children will remember and retain of their childhoods. I've written, somewhat jokingly, about how my children seem to believe they were spanked within an inch of their lives on a fairly large number of occasions, which is QUITE far from the truth, but apparently the few made a large impression.<br />
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Lord knows the endless meals, laundry, shutting to and fro make next to no impression at all!<br />
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I think two things ultimately rise and stay in memory, at least from my childhood and, I expect, from my childrens' childhoods as they look back on them- the element of surprise/special/the unexpected, and the overall intention.<br />
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I have a lot to draw from in the first category, my favorite memory of all being my Mom pulling me out of high school one day COMPLETELY unexpectedly, right in the middle of the day, to take me to the airport, fly me to Dallas, and take me to the Bruce Springsteen Born in the USA concert. THAT was an amazing surprise and more than that, it was a remarkable thing to do. No doubt she could have cared less about Springsteen and I can guarantee I was a CRAPPY teenager to my Mom.. I would not have wanted to spend time with me and my attitude toward her for sure.. but I will never forget the surprise, the effort she put forth to bridge a gap; even in my self centered teens I had great appreciation for that. And small things too, like cupcakes baked in ice cream cone shells for my birthday, that I could take to school and feel special.<br />
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Regarding intention, here's the thing, Moms and Dads:<br />
We all mess up. There are times when we mess up ROYALLY, sometimes we know it as we do it or immediately afterward, and sometimes those mistakes become apparent in hindsight. Some are EPIC and when we see them, they fill us with shame- that we couldn't see our child was hurting until too far down the line, that we reacted in a way that caused them pain that was not temporary but more permanent... that we failed them. Isn't that a parent's greatest fear? That we fail to do what we can to make them strong, healthy and whole individuals? Isn't that our JOB?<br />
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This is where I believe intention comes into play.<br />
Of course I remember things my parents did that they shouldn't have. Absolutely they made mistakes, just as I have and Rob have too. Some I already know, some will be revealed to me in time either through my own eyes or through what my children will reflect back to me.<br />
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But what I do know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, is that I was loved. My brother was loved. Fiercely, by both parents, in the imperfect way that we love each other. The overall intention was to make us better people, and through successes and misfires, I think they did.. and I believe they did it all in love and in the best way they knew how to do at the time. Just as Rob and I are doing and have done.<br />
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So Dad, don't worry about what we remember and what we don't, or what you remember or what you don't. Over time the details fade away, and some good stuff rises to the surface (and some bad stuff too) but the overall intention remains.<br />
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I was loved. I am loved. Deeply and fully and well.<br />
That's all that matters.<br />
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••••••••••••••••••••<br />
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Join in the Memoir Prompt series if you would like!<br />
Link is here: http://anndeeellis.com/2016/08/19/day-2/Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-6831142844045549482016-08-17T18:09:00.000-04:002016-08-17T18:09:41.935-04:00Memoir Prompt: I Remember When(I am participating in a Memoir Prompt activity. Eight minutes of writing, three prompts a week, unedited stream of consciousness.<br />
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At this point in my life, I am writing for me. Those who have been a part of my life and have tender feelings, know this going in!)<br />
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I remember, back in my middle school days, living in Italy, when it was report card day.<br />
I hated report card day.<br />
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I hated school.<br />
I hated the social aspect of school- I didn't fit in well with most of the girls, I was a tomboy and fairly socially awkward. I got hit hard by that ugly stick, no lie.<br />
Not only did I hate school, but I wasn't that good at it. Not that I couldn't have been, mind you, I just didn't CARE that much about it. Homework? Meh, why bother?<br />
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My parents would ask me, "Do you have any homework?" and I would blithely reply "Nope!" or come up with some strategic lie about having finished it at school or whatever. And off I would go to play, or read a book, or do whatever I would do.<br />
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The time would come, of course, for The Reckoning.<br />
In the life of a middle schooler, that is Report Card Day.<br />
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Oh, how I would drag my feet on the walk home from the bus stop.<br />
My brother, God love him, would be skipping along merrily with his near-perfect report card, with me hissing behind him to not show it to them dear God can we just not tell them we have our report cards PLEASE?<br />
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Yeah, good luck with that.<br />
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I have no idea what my parents must have thought quarter after quarter, year after year, about this kid with the crappy report card. I'm sure they must have been disappointed, aggravated, furious even. They were paying for private school for us and they could not have picked a kid who seemingly cared less.<br />
I really think I would have slapped my kids silly, but oddly they are not of me regarding school, but of my husband, and they all do well.<br />
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But for this I Remember When, I remember this:<br />
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Standing before my Father with said report card in his hands and expecting the worst.<br />
He looked at me, with a measured gaze, and then he suggested we go down to the corner market and play video games (or something like that. I can't exactly remember. But honestly, it was something like that, or get ice cream, or SOMETHING LIKE THAT.)<br />
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I looked back at him, stunned. Confused. Perhaps waiting for the earth to spin off its axis or to be struck by lightning.<br />
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Instead, I took his hand, and walked with him out of the door and to the corner.<br />
My hand was secure in his and amidst my feelings of shame and failure, I knew that for him, regardless, I was enough.Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-86703679299075986742015-11-21T11:44:00.001-05:002015-11-21T11:44:18.437-05:00Letting Go and Letting God, Redefined.My dreams for my children have always been ordinary.<br />
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I don't really know what that says about me, but it's the truth.<br />
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All I've ever wanted for them is that they are happy and find fulfillment in their lives. I hoped that they would marry someone who would love them forever and always, and that they would have children who would also be happy and healthy. I dreamed that they would have a job that would bring them satisfaction, yet also enough income to have everything they need and some of what they want. All of this, along with safety, health and longevity.<br />
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Plentiful dreaming, but not extraordinary.<br />
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I never dreamed that they would be world renowned for anything- music, sports, inventions etc. That never occurred to me at all.<br />
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Since August, I feel that I am being stretched in ways that I never anticipated and honestly, never wanted. Well, I never would have wanted it I'm sure but honestly I don't know that it ever really occurred to me at all.. that I might have a child who was interested in serving his country.<br />
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Blithely in July, I took both my sons to visit the Air Force Academy in Colorado. We oohed and aahed over the extraordinary architecture of the Chapel, ate a pizza in the food court, peeked around the bookstore. It was a stop amongst many stops on our five week trip and it registered as no more than that for any of us.<br />
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Thus, when my Dad was coming for a visit in August, I planned a day for us to drive over the Annapolis. We'd visit the capitol city of Maryland, tour the Naval Academy and eat at a crab house. A wonderfully enjoyable way to spend a summer afternoon, I'd say. And I was right.<br />
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Except.<br />
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I did not foresee the rapidly growing excitement in my 16-now-17 year old son's eyes. I did not see the sudden fire of desire and passion and then when I saw it, I fully expected it to flame and then burn out quickly.<br />
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Now it is nearly December. He is single minded in his desire to attend the Naval Academy. Each test score, each leadership position, each accomplishment is a step in that direction. It is his first choice, his motivation, his dream.<br />
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But wait!<br />
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What about MY dreams?<br />
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I realize now that nowhere in MY dreams did I leave room for his dreams to be different. Not that his are directly opposed to mine of course, but nowhere in my dreaming was there a risk taken that could shatter the comfortable progression I had chosen.<br />
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In the months since August, I have wrestled fiercely with my desire to support his dreams while also desperately fearing them.<br />
<br />
It's admirable to want to serve our country and I think the Naval Academy is a good school, I really do. I can see him absolutely loving it, actually, and growing by leaps and bounds in his natural gifts of excellence, motivation and leadership. But when I think of the years after the Academy, at least five, when his life will potentially be in peril, I want to vomit. I have a literal, visceral reaction that I've only ever experienced before when I have felt that someone is threatening my children.<br />
<br />
That's it. That's what it feels like. It is that crazed Mama Bear response that rises up like the fiercest beast and protector, except that my son is walking toward what I am perceiving as the threat, by choice. He doesn't want my protection in this, and I have no idea what to do with these feelings.<br />
<br />
My work over the past few months, my work now, and my work in the next year plus, is to learn to shift my way of thinking. His life is his life, his dreams are his dreams. I will have to put my trust in him to live his life as he feels called and led to do, and put my trust in the Academy (should he go there) to teach him well. And I will be calling on God with every fiber of my being to protect him and hold him in his care.Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-80165516323364446522015-11-13T01:02:00.002-05:002015-11-13T01:02:52.603-05:00The Evolution of BrothersIt's late Thursday afternoon.<br />
I've just gone to pick up Trey from Robotics at school and we're pulling in the driveway at 5:15.<br />
Chris greets Trey when we walk in the door.<br />
<br />
"Hey Trey, come on, let's play Airsoft!"<br />
"No," grumbles Trey. "I don't want to."<br />
<br />
I'm not surprised by this. Trey always needs some time to decompress when he gets home from school. He is "peopled out." Usually we set a timer for a half hour of electronics time and then he's back to himself again.<br />
<br />
"Come on Trey, please? It'll be fun. We haven't done this for a while!" Chris pleaded, but it fell on deaf ears. Trey was having none of it.<br />
<br />
A bit later, after Trey's electronics time and decompression, Trey began trying to engage Chris.<br />
"Hey Chris, let's go play Zombies!"<br />
"Nah," said Chris, "not right now. I don't really want to."<br />
"Ah, come on! You know you want to! Just for a little while! Come on, please?" wheedled Trey, to no avail.<br />
<br />
Following dinner, Trey tried again and this time, Chris complied. They headed up to Kate's room, which is currently serving double duty as the Gaming room while we have our basement finished.<br />
<br />
I smiled to myself downstairs as I heard shouts of joy, or dismay, or occasionally anger while the boys played their game.<br />
<br />
A while later, Trey came down. He smiled at me but also looked slightly annoyed. I gave him a quizzical glance.<br />
"What's up?"<br />
"Oh, Chris just wouldn't put his phone down. He kept texting and he got killed by the Zombies THREE TIMES because he was texting."<br />
<br />
I gave him a hug and a gentle smile.<br />
"He has his first girlfriend, Trey. It's kind of taking over things a little bit right now."<br />
"Well, I'll never let that happen to ME" he grumbled and I smiled.<br />
"Give it time, sweetie, you might be surprised when your time comes."<br />
<br />
A couple of hours later, I was headed upstairs to read in bed for the night.<br />
Walking by Kate's room, I see the two boys hanging out companionably on the bed, side by side. Each of them is doing his own thing but happily and comfortably together.<br />
<br />
After a while, Chris comes into my room and flops across my bed to say goodnight.<br />
"I spent a lot of time with Trey tonight. I think he really liked it," he said conspiratorially.<br />
I assured him that indeed he did and relayed to him briefly the conversation that I had had with Trey downstairs.<br />
"What you are doing is normal and fine, and your brother is going to need time to adjust to sharing you with someone else" I said as I gave him a big hug. "He's used to you belonging to him!"<br />
<br />
It has been a pleasure to watch the evolution of the friendship between the boys.<br />
Rob and I both feared that there would come a time when Chris might reject Trey in favor of growing up and moving on.. that often happens in sibling relationships, at least for a time.<br />
Instead, we see a good bit of tolerance in Chris, possibly more than is deserved sometimes.<br />
He has taken Trey running and encouraged him to join Cross Country next year, been mostly agreeable about his Varsity baseball coach including eighth graders in Winter Training, and encouraging of Trey trying out for the play again. What this translates to is my 8th grader and my high school junior spending quite a lot of time together after school at practices and activities, not to mention the drive to and from school every day.<br />
<br />
Hopefully over these next months of first loves, mission trips, and preparation for college, these boys will continue to foster their relationship and build bonds that cannot be broken.Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-42187205245844696962014-12-26T08:31:00.000-05:002014-12-26T08:31:05.291-05:00The Five Day of Christmas Misfire<br />
A couple of months before Christmas, Rob and I toyed with the idea of taking a trip during Christmas vacation with the kids.<br />
We thought about a few places we might go or things we might do, but ultimately decided against taking a trip. Instead, we decided to capitalize on the time that Rob was taking off to spend dedicated and planned time together as a family. From there, the "Five Days of Christmas" was born.<br />
<br />
We chose a few activities and planned which days we might do them. We said nothing to the kids. After all the festivities of Christmas Day, we called them downstairs to tell them about the activity for the next day.<br />
<br />
As a general rule, we don't often call the kids to the family room for a group discussion. Any time we have had a "family meeting" like this, it tends to be something serious in nature that we want to convey to them. We didn't realize at the time that calling them all to meet up with us would freak them out, but it became obvious as they gathered in front of Rob and I, who were sitting together on the couch.<br />
<br />
Kate arrived first and sat across from us on the ottoman, eyes wide, brow furrowed. Chris followed and remained standing. Trey sauntered in a minute or two later, sat on the opposite couch, and got right to the point: "Are we in trouble?"<br />
<br />
At this point, toying with them had become completely irresistible. "No, you aren't in trouble," I said sagely to the saucer eyed children, "your Dad and I have something we'd like to talk with you about."<br />
<br />
AND THIS IS WHERE IT ALL WENT AWRY.<br />
<br />
Rob, my lovely dear husband who is often at the receiving end of pranks and not so much at the delivery end, COMPLETELY MISFIRES!<br />
<br />
In a serious tone, he states somberly "Your Mother and I have decided to live apart."<br />
<br />
It took me a second to process what he said, and I think I processed it in the same amount of time as the kids. Kate's mouth dropped open and her hands shot up to her face. Chris literally dropped two steps back and let out a howl. "NOOOOOOO!"<br />
<br />
Trey, perhaps the most seasoned or twisted of our kids, took in the scene quickly, got the "joke" and went "heh heh heh!"<br />
<br />
Really, it was kind of an awful scene.<br />
<br />
"No! No! ROB!!" My head swiveled between venomous looks at him and looking back at the poor older two. "He's kidding! He's KIDDING!!"<br />
<br />
As it dawned on Kate and Chris that this was NOT in fact why we were all gathered, they both started to laugh in an "I just avoided being in a deadly situation" kind of laugh, which for Kate teetered between laughter and tears.Chris sort of staggered around a bit. "I got a cold feeling in my head that went all down my body!"he exclaimed, in that sort of half-laughing, half terrified squeaky voice.<br />
<br />
I was sort of near to tears myself because hearing those words brought back some long forgotten memories and feelings of my own. Years before my parents actually split up in 1993, they had sat us down at the kitchen table and said those same words to my brother and I. It was one of the strangest experiences of my life, because they told us and then NOTHING EVER HAPPENED. It was like I dreamed it. I don't remember it even being spoken of again. But I digress.<br />
<br />
It took a few minutes to clean up the pieces from the "joke misfire." Man, my heart goes out to all of you who have had that conversation for real. It was horrible and it wasn't even happening.<br />
<br />
From there we told the kids about our plan for the Secret Five Days, and that Day Number One would be a Pajama Painting Pottery thing happening at the local pottery place. :) The kids are excited (about pottery or our lack of separation is unclear!) and I'm looking forward to five days of fun activities on our "staycation."<br />
<br />
Let the fun begin!Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-72408549997938368922014-12-25T07:57:00.000-05:002014-12-25T07:57:02.825-05:00My Grown Up Christmas List<br />
It's seven thirty on Christmas morning, and the dog and I are hanging out downstairs in the family room.<br />
<br />
<span id="goog_347011128"></span><span id="goog_347011129"></span><br />
<br />
Upstairs, not a creature is stirring. I expect to hear someone soon and then the joyful noise will begin. Teenager hood (and Kate soon to be 20!) has crept into the house and the sounds of children at 5 AM occur no longer.. not an unwelcome change. There is still plenty of excitement at 8 AM!<br />
<br />
As I wait, I have been reflecting on the past few days, with all my children home and together again.<br />
<br />
Almost all of my wishes now revolve around my children and their futures, which I suppose is how it should be. I don't know. Is there even a "should" for things like that?<br />
<br />
I wish for them to find love. A someone in their life who loves them deeply and strongly, who supports and encourages them and who has integrity. Someone who will help them to be even better as a pair than they are alone.<br />
<br />
I wish for them to have children, should they want them, whether biological or otherwise. If they adopt, I pray that the child(ren) will have not been in horribly adverse circumstances, but if it is, that the child will be able to overcome them with love and help. I wish that their children are healthy and bring them the joy (and other wide range of feelings on occasion!) that they have brought Rob and I.<br />
<br />
Perhaps my greatest wish is that they remain close in their adulthood. I hope that they come together as a family, I hope that their children play together and grow up with shared memories of their own. I want them to support each other, laugh at stupid things their Dad and I did, and have each other's backs when things get hard, as they inevitably will.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
My Mom was an only child so she didn't have the joys and frustrations of living with a sibling. My Dad and his sibling weren't very close in childhood or adulthood. Rob and I both had a different experience and love our siblings very much. I hope they replicate this!<br />
<br />
I hear footsteps upstairs.. Christmas morning is about to begin!<br />
<br />
What is *your* Christmas wish?<br />
<br />
(PS- reminder: this blog will go private at the end of this week. If you'd like access, email me or message me on FB with your email address.)Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-51308479070056861592014-12-21T20:54:00.003-05:002014-12-21T20:54:35.689-05:00Changes to the BlogDear Friends,<br />
<br />
At the end of this week, I will be changing this blog over to the private setting for an extended period of time.<br />
<br />
Please let me know if you would like to be included by putting your email address and name in the comments.<br />
<br />
I'm sorry but if you aren't my friend IRL, or if we don't have an online friendship that I'm comfortable with, I will need to decline.<br />
<br />
Thanks for your understanding!Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-31699072500936105052014-12-03T14:10:00.001-05:002014-12-03T14:12:04.313-05:00Just Like That<br />
I got word yesterday through Facebook that an acquaintance of mine had died over the weekend.<br />
<br />
Tom was someone I had known from my youth group at church. To be completely frank, I don't remember a lot about him from that time period, just that he was a nice person. We didn't really hang out much.<br />
<br />
Tom contacted me as an adult on FB a couple of years ago. Over time I came to recognize him as an exceedingly kind and gentle soul. He wasn't married, nor did he have children, but he had dogs that he trained for agility and he loved them as his Fur Kids.<br />
<br />
I've been processing the notion of his passing. I had a classmate also pass away a couple of years ago, but she had been fighting an illness, so while it was still shocking, it was somehow also vaguely expected. But this, a sudden massive heart attack, with no warning, has really been weighing on me.<br />
<br />
How is it that we exist on this earth and then just POOF, game over, just like that? No goodbyes, no finishing the bucket list, no making an arrangement for your beloved Fur Kids.<br />
<br />
Over the past month, I've applied a renewed focus to my health. I've been working to lose weight, yes, but also to build strength and endurance. I've seen the changes already, both in my physical shape and in my mental well being. My motivation is the trip I am taking this summer with the boys, but also, perhaps even more so, for my own self, for my own health.<br />
<br />
As my kids are aging out of their school years and into their own lives and futures, my attention has turned to what I want to do. There are so many places I want to go, so many things to try, and taste, and see. The urge to explore and travel has by necessity been somewhat dormant, but I feel it rising in my chest, ready to break free.<br />
<br />
I want to make sure that I can get out there and do everything.<br />
I so wish Tom had had that chance too.Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-25514277801946736522014-08-17T22:33:00.003-04:002014-08-17T22:33:47.668-04:00Tuck Ins<br />
A while ago, maybe a year or so ago, a relative expressed surprise that I still tucked my boys in.<br />
They didn't understand why boys 12 and 15 needed to be tucked in.<br />
<br />
Truth is, they don't. They are certainly CAPABLE of putting themselves to bed. And more often than not, the 15 year old will poke his head in and say Good Night and that will suffice.<br />
<br />
But oh, how much can be missed by not taking those moments to tuck in a child, even a growing or almost grown one.<br />
<br />
Tonight, Trey and I discussed five things he is grateful for. It was touching to hear his list (family, friends, parents, heart loves {God and Roonoff}, and all the things he needs and some that he wants.)<br />
<br />
He elaborated on all that I do "with most of the time no one saying thank you" and the work his Dad does "having to get up early and work late and even work on the summers" as well as his "heart loves"- "I mean, I can talk to you about almost anything but when I am really mad at you and I can't talk to you I can talk to God or Roonoff."<br />
<br />
And then I tucked in Chris and lingered a bit and was able to talk with him in the dark about life and the trips we had taken this summer (highlights for him: Costa Rica mission trip, St Louis and Branson particularly the cliff and helping Grampie jump off the cliff) and also about his upcoming school year, for which he has high hopes.<br />
<br />
These boys (and my daughter too but she is out of town) are such amazing gifts. Even when I am tired, I am so glad when I find and take the time to stop and listen.<br />
<br />
I still, after 19 years of parenting, just cannot get over how freaking lucky I am.Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-56553494032826363412014-07-12T22:17:00.002-04:002014-07-12T22:17:30.474-04:00Slave to the Lender<br />
<br />
As I was tucking Trey in tonight, he was being especially sweet. One of the things he said also struck me as very profound.<br />
<br />
"Mom, I'm grateful to you and Dad for taking care of me and letting me go to college debt free. One day when I finish I'll be free and debt-free. Some other people will be independent, but they won't be free."<br />
<br />
Very interesting to me how this child has so fully absorbed the lessons from Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace, at the tender age of 12. I guess he's been the one who was fully steeped in it from such a young age. I hope the concepts continue to stick with him throughout his life!Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-77303389002550122932014-07-09T22:30:00.001-04:002014-07-09T22:30:19.784-04:00Every Mother Should Have Sons<br />
While I love all my children, it has become my firm belief that each and every parent should have a child (at least one!) of the opposite gender in their home.<br />
There is just something about it- little girls and their Dads, and Moms and their sons.<br />
<br />
For example, tonight Rob, the boys and I went to see our county's production of Les Miserables. My kids have seen Les Mis a couple of times over and we know the storyline and songs well. I was between the boys and we were all armed with tissues.<br />
<br />
I cry at various songs, some harder than others- "I Dreamed a Dream" gets me, Fontine's death just about does me in.<br />
During both these songs, the boys grabbed my hand or wrapped an arm around my shoulder.<br />
<br />
Chris' favorite song is "Stars" and Trey's favorite song is "A Little Drop of Rain" although it absolutely KILLS him every time.<br />
When it is time for A Little Drop of Rain, I could feel Trey sobbing and sobbing beside me. This continued for quite a while.<br />
<br />
A bit later, he leans over and whispers "It took me two songs to recover from that!"<br />
"Me too, buddy" I whispered back, "I was doing the ugly cry."<br />
"That's okay Mom" he leaned in and said quietly, "even when you do the ugly cry you're always beautiful to me."<br />
<br />
THAT.<br />
That right there is why Moms having sons is the best thing ever in the whole world. :)Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-2558348460805252212014-06-25T23:20:00.002-04:002014-06-25T23:20:44.029-04:00Flashes of Light<br />
"Oh, GREAT," I muttered to Rob. If there was a sarcasm font, this would be written and bolded in it.<br />
<br />
You see, Trey has been attending a camp this week called Extreme Recess. It's a long day- it runs from 9-5. He loves it though. The first day I picked him up early and was instructed to 'please don't pick me up early again.'<br />
<br />
The downside is that this camp is positively kicking the child's butt. He is T-I-R-E-D at the end of the day. As in crankapotamous, -can't talk to him for at least an hour after it's over- kind of tired.<br />
<br />
After a particularly whiney evening, Rob and I decided the boy needed to go to bed early. He clearly was exhausted, clearly needed rest. We told him he had to be in bed to sleep at 9 PM.<br />
<br />
What had me so irritated, then, was that the thunderstorm in the area was rolling in right around 9:30, and Trey still has a fear of thunder in particular and lightning by association. If he was still awake, there was no easy way to get him to sleep.<br />
<br />
"I hope Trey's asleep or else he is going to be in our room," I continued as I got up and headed toward the kitchen. I was dead tired myself, as I've been battling a particularly long-lasting insomnia bout.<br />
<br />
At exactly that moment I bumped into something warm and furry. It grabbed me and I whirled around and SCREAMED. It was Trey in his flannel robe. I swear I thought I was seeing an apparition. We have very creaky stairs so we always know when our kids are coming up or down. It was like he VAPORIZED there.<br />
<br />
(In the interest of full disclosure, I screamed HOLY SHIT! And I'm not sorry.)<br />
<br />
"It's storming," he helpfully informed me as I gasped for breath and clutched my heart. "There's thunder and lightning."<br />
<br />
I could hear the whine in my voice matching the whine in his. "Yes, it is storming. There's thunder and lightning. But you are fine. You are safe in the house. You know the thunder is just a sound- the sound of hot air and cold air colliding. It isn't going to hurt you."<br />
<br />
But it was no use. I could tell that he was freaked out and he wasn't going to be able to go to sleep.<br />
<br />
"Just go in your own room and turn on the light and read then," I said in a short tone, "I'm really tired and I want to go to bed."<br />
<br />
He went into his room and I went to mine. I got ready for bed, turned on a light, started reading a magazine. I was about ready to nod off when there was a soft knock at the door and Trey appeared. He looked nervous but determined to say his piece.<br />
<br />
"With no screen, the rain is hitting my window and it's really loud."<br />
<br />
I sighed heavily. This was true but dammit, I'm tired!<br />
<br />
"Come on, Trey" I grumbled, "you are almost 13! You've got to get past this. Go tell your Dad about the screen and then just go back to bed. Or go into Kate or Chris' room since they aren't there. They have screens."<br />
<br />
He shuffled out, informed his father, collected his various bedtime belongings (alarm clock, night light, pillow, etc) and moved into his sister's room. I laid in bed, stewing.<br />
<br />
<i>Come on!</i> I thought to myself. <i>He's got to move past this.</i><br />
<br />
But as I lay there some more, I pictured him in Kate's room. The big bed, the unfamiliar feel of it, the flashing lighting and rumbling thunder. I pictured him lying there scared, and I couldn't do it.<br />
<br />
Yes, he's 12. But he's still a boy.<br />
And he's scared.<br />
<br />
He's not going to go off to college afraid of the dark, and lightning and thunder. And if he does, so what? He'll have a room mate and he'll have to deal. But right now he's just a boy and he needs the security I can bring him.<br />
<br />
I got up and went into Kate's room. He was just as I imagined him to be- ramrod straight, eyes wide open, scared. I climbed into bed beside him and he curled up against me gratefully.<br />
<br />
Yes, I thought to myself, he's still small.<br />
Right now, he is still small.<br />
But time is going fast.. and I held him a little closer.. and he drifted into sleep.<br />
<br />
(And I'm not sorry.)<br />
<br />
<br />Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-2581365906730241832014-06-05T14:54:00.002-04:002014-06-05T14:54:51.550-04:00On Boundaries and Rejection<br />
Today I sat in a final meeting at the high school with Chris. We were learning the last minute details about his mission trip to Costa Rica that he embarks on tomorrow.<br />
It sounded so fun. Their lodging sounded decent, their activities fun (kids! water balloons!) and the recreational activities even more fun (white water rafting! zip lines!)<br />
<br />
After the meeting, we went to Walmart to pick up some crayons and such for him to give to the kids on the trip. I was buoyant with excitement for him.<br />
<br />
"You are going to have so much fun.. I'm kind of jealous! I wish I were the one going! It would be fun to go white water rafting and zip lining with Mrs. K!"<br />
<br />
"I don't think the parents get to do those things, Mom" Chris responded quietly.<br />
<br />
"Oh, sure they do! So what do you think? Maybe I'll go some time! You'd be okay with that, right?"<br />
<br />
Pause.<br />
<br />
"Um, yeah, maybe after I graduate."<br />
<br />
BAM.<br />
<br />
I misstep, momentarily confused. What did he just say? Did he just say 'after I graduate?' As in, 'Mom, I don't want you there with me?'<br />
<br />
I had a string of instant reactions, one after the other.<br />
<br />
1) WTF?!<br />
<br />
2) Oh NO YOU DIDN'T. After you three kids have embarrassed me periodically for 19 years, you are now embarrassed by me? You have got to be kidding.<br />
<br />
3) I'm NOT embarrassing.<br />
<br />
4) <i>Am I embarrassing</i>?<br />
<br />
At this point, I engaged in a mental 'sniffing of the armpits,' in which I calculated all the ways in which I might be embarrassing.<br />
<br />
I guess I am kind of brash.<br />
And unpredictable.<br />
And impulsive.<br />
And I dress really crappy. ;)<br />
<br />
So here we are in Walmart and I am alternating between being absolutely crushed and furious.<br />
<br />
I had promised a stop at the McDonalds at the Walmart after we checked out, to celebrate the last day of school. The boys and I ordered and I stood there, waiting for the food, in a furious, self-righteous silence. Trey roamed between us, aware that something had happened but unsure what.<br />
<br />
"Are you mad at me?" Chris sidled up and asked plaintively.<br />
"My feelings are really hurt" I muttered, staring straight ahead.<br />
"Why? What'd I say?"<br />
I gave him a long, hard stare. "Really, Chris? Really?"<br />
Then I turned and walked away.<br />
<br />
After a quiet and stony meal, we headed home.<br />
I raced upstairs and changed quickly, then headed out to mow the lawn.<br />
<br />
I know myself well enough to know that strong feelings = physical activity and lots of it, lest I say something I will regret. I need time to process this and it is best done alone. I marched up and down the rows, sarcastic retorts and scathing diatribes streaming through my brain with every step.<br />
<br />
Yet as I continued to mow the lawn, sweat pouring from my brow and steam blowing from my ears, rational thought began to penetrate the anger.<br />
<br />
I constantly rejected my Mom's presence during my childhood and teen years. While I loved her, I needed my space, needed to keep my social life separate from my home life. Her presence at times drove me NUTS.<br />
As I did this, growing up, I seldom remember considering my Mom's feelings. I don't think I necessarily did much of considering her as a person at all, really. It was about me and what I wanted or needed, and not at all about her.<br />
<br />
It was not about her.<br />
So, perhaps, this is not about me, but about Chris and about what <i>he</i> needs.<br />
<br />
I always thought that when my kid would one day say he didn't want me with him, or sidestepped away from me in public, that I would be totally cool with it. As always in parenting, it is harder to be on the inside looking out, than the outside looking in.<br />
<br />
It's also easier to be the one doing the rejecting than the one being rejected.<br />
(So sorry, Mom. I feel like this should just be a permanent tattoo on my body.)<br />
<br />
So Chris, now that I have had some time to think, I apologize. My response was to take what you said very personally and as a rejection from you of me as a parent.<br />
I realize now that what you need is what you need, just as when I was a teenager.<br />
You need your space and want to have your own experiences in your own social group, and that is your right.<br />
It is my job to understand and respect the boundary that have set.<br />
<br />
That boundary may change at some point in high school, or it may not. I'll wait for your signal or invitation regarding school stuff.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, I'll wait here on the sidelines as my own Mom did, and I will quietly watch and applaud your accomplishments.<br />
<br />
(Well, as quietly as I can. It's not my strong suit.)Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-10434921386234756472014-06-04T10:25:00.000-04:002014-06-04T10:25:06.198-04:00Teenage Boys: Feeding the Endlessly Hungry<br />
As you've all noticed (if you set foot in the market at all)<br />
the cost of food has risen, risen and risen some more.<br />
It is absolutely crazy how expensive things have gotten.<br />
<br />
Lucky for me, I've got three "kids" in the house this summer. My 19 year old daughter doesn't eat a whole lot, but I've got 15 year old and 12.5 year old boys and they EAT. CONSTANTLY.<br />
<br />
Just as an example, Trey is about to get braces put on. Since his teeth need only a minor adjustment, he was offered either Invisalign or traditional metal braces.<br />
Anyone who has lived through middle school would think this is a no-brainer, right? I mean, middle school is hard enough without sporting metal braces. Who wouldn't choose the invisible option for the same price?<br />
<br />
Trey, that's who. Once he found out they had to be worn 20-22 hours per day and that he had to brush his teeth after every time he ate something, he refused them. "Mom, I eat A LOT after school! That would NOT work for me!" And he's right. Smart boy.<br />
<br />
While I feed my kids three good solid meals a day, the endless eating does call for some snack type foods to be around the house. Fortunately, I've recently discovered a market called Aldi and it has helped keep the costs down.<br />
<br />
Aldi doesn't enjoy a good reputation in the US. People view it as a "poor man's" grocery store. Thing is, those people don't know squat! Aldi is a *different* kind of store, because it is based on a European model. For example, at Aldi you put a quarter in a little slot on your shopping cart to release it from its tether. You will hear people squawking about this: "You even have to pay to use a shopping cart!" Nope, that's incorrect. This (also done in Europe) is done so that the store doesn't have to pay someone to round up all those carts lazy people leave in the parking lot. When you are done shopping, you return your cart and your quarter pops back out for you. Cost to you? None. Savings to you? Yep! Not having to pay someone to get your cart allows them to pass the savings on to you.<br />
<br />
Aldi has VERY few store brands. Instead, they have their own store brand. Coincidentally, this is the exact same stuff your local National Brand supermarket is selling, at a higher cost. Literally. You are not paying for the brand name, the store is not paying the advertising, packaging and merchandising costs and the savings? Passed on to you.<br />
<br />
No one will bag your groceries at Aldi. They check them out directly into an empty cart. Then, you take your cart and bag your groceries at a long counter just past the checkout line. Again, a European model. Savings? Passed on to you again, of course!<br />
<br />
Not open except during prime hours? Savings to you. Hiring fewer checkers but teaching them to check your groceries out really fast? Savings to you. (Cool tip: Aldi products have bar codes on all sides of packaging- checkers can whip things right through without pausing!)<br />
<br />
Here's some prices of things I have recently bought:<br />
<br />
Milk: 2.89/ gallon (local grocery 3.99/gallon)<br />
French Toast Sticks, double cinnamon: 2.19 (local store: 3.50)<br />
Not from concentrate OJ in carafe 2.49<br />
Good Humor style strawberry shortcake ice cream bars: 1.99 for 6<br />
Double Topping frozen pizza 14"- 2.99<br />
Bacon (16oz): 3.99<br />
Cereal (repackaged General Mills): 1.69<br />
Mac and cheese (blue box): .39<br />
Bag of Gala Apples: 3.59<br />
Peaches .49/ea<br />
Kettle chips: 1.79/bag<br />
Wheat bread: 1.29/loaf<br />
Anjou Pears: 1.39 for 4<br />
<br />
They also carry Super Cheap European chocolate and other goodies that are very high quality.<br />
<br />
If you've been to Trader Joes, this is the sister store.. the companies are owned by brothers in Europe.<br />
<br />
So think about it and if you have one in your area, check it out. The first time you will hate it because you will be confused. That's okay. Give it another try or two before you make up your mind. And rest easy- Aldi has a double guarantee: if you don't like what you try, bring it back. You will get your money back if you don't think it is as good as the name brand, no questions back. And if they can't find something as good as the name brand, then they will also stock the name brand next to theirs.<br />
<br />
If you go, let me know! And enjoy your new savings!Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125806503599042422.post-28131128984278695162014-06-01T21:07:00.000-04:002014-06-01T21:07:19.376-04:00Blessed by a Bucket List<br />
I have felt so stinking blessed lately.<br />
<br />
I mean absolutely down to my toes blessed.<br />
<br />
Last weekend was the "infamous" camping trip.<br />
I planned it as I tend to do, which was by not planning it all. <br />
<br />
Let me backtrack.<br />
<br />
A lot of us have bucket lists, whether written or mental, of things we want to do. Some of the things on my list involve adventures with the kids, and some were getting done and some were not. Whether from timing, or funds, or fear, they weren't happening. I kept feeling like I had time, "when the kids get a little older".. when this, when that.<br />
<br />
Then, Kate graduated from high school and went off to college, it hit me. The time is now. In some ways, the time is past or is passing as we speak. Chris will get his permit this summer, then a job and a more independent life, then he too will spread his wings and fly.<br />
<br />
Yep, I needed to hop to it, and fast.<br />
<br />
So, back to the camping. Going camping was one of the things on my bucket list. Problem was, I don't know how to camp, I have no experience with it and nor does Rob. Furthermore, he had no interest in going at all. But, I finally determined that I would just have to yank up my big girl pants and do it- there had to be a first time at some point, right?- Before I could change my mind, I booked three nights over Memorial Day weekend. Tent camping, no electric or water. We could do this! We were excited!<br />
<br />
Around 3 AM, my eyes popped wide open and curses flew from my lips as I realized what I had done. What was I thinking? I have no idea how to camp! I have no supplies! No freaking tent, even! This will be Awful! WHAT HAVE I DONE???<br />
<br />
The next day I took to trusty Facebook to moan about my self-induced dilemma. Friends gave me sage advice (they are clearly used to me as there was little obvious eye rolling) and then the most amazing Jeni and David leapt to my rescue with all the camping supplies a girl could need, plus an awesome checklist. We were saved!<br />
<br />
Supplies were picked up, tents were practiced in the front yard and the next day we were campground bound. I couldn't believe how much stuff we were taking with us but I was assured this was normal!<br />
<br />
The tent camping trip was wonderful. Really, really fun. We went to a Jellystone Campground resort, which was perfect for a first time. There was lots for the boys to do while I practiced things like How To Cook Using Propane and How To Light Wet Firewood. Very entertaining! I really enjoyed learning to cook outside and so forth. We had an absolute blast. Rob did come join us for the second night, and then for the third night Rob left and Kate and her boyfriend joined us.<br />
<br />
It felt awesome to take the risk and do something scary and new. I told Rob after the first night, I could FEEL the neurons firing and the synapses making new connections. My brain was buzzing with activity as I had to work hard to figure out new ways of doing things. It was so good, so healthy. I knew no matter how successful we were, memories were being made and in the end, the good memories would remain and the bad ones would make the funniest stories. :)<br />
<br />
Since we've gotten back, I've been toying with the calendar, trying to figure out where we might camp next. I've also been hard at work on the computer, notebook in hand, planning our next adventure-- for Summer 2015, a Western US loop over at least a month.<br />
<br />
There's so much to see and do out there.. and a Bucket List to be checked off.<br />
<br />
<br />Leeannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17529722995554495470noreply@blogger.com0