Piece of Cake

This was a hard morning.
After a weekend of being with family and indulging my addiction for hugs, laughter, and good conversation (not to mention FOOD!) getting up for work was like fighting through a hang-over.
And I guess I wasn't the only one who didn't want to see the school week start.
Parker got up grudgingly...ate quietly...and stewed angrily when he couldn't find the EXACT sweatshirt he wanted. Understanding how he felt, I tried to help. I spoke softly and soothingly, searched til I found the desired shirt, and finally just sat on his bed and hugged him for a minute. When his tears dripped onto my pants, I turned him around, held him like a baby and rocked him back and forth. Of course, the top half of his body was all I could hold, and his arms draped around me and hung down onto the bed. But neither of us seemed to mind. How could I comfort my son, when I felt like crawling under the covers myself. So I started to pray. There was nothing else to do. I asked God to protect us at school...to give us peace and joy...all the usual things I could think of. Then, in an effort to make Parker smile, I tried to get silly. "And God, just let this be an AWESOME day for Parker. Let them have something really GREAT for lunch...and CHOCOLATE CAKE..."
I was rewarded with a small, wet smile.
And the day went on.
We both survived school and met up later at the hair salon where we were both getting cuts. Since he just arrived from cross country practice and the stylist was busy, I got the special treat of washing his hair in the fancy bowl with the sprayer thing. (I know, he's a brave and tolerant kid.) I used the good-smelling shampoo and threw in a little head massage at the end, just like a pro. As I was toweling him off, and asking about his day, he said, "and guess what, Mom...we had cake at lunch!"
Chocolate cake with chocolate icing.
And God said, "I love you."
Because though life may seem overwhelming to us...to Him it's a piece of cake.

Warning - more bragging to follow

Both of my children showed once again how wonderfully perfect they are this week...Hillary was voted junior class president. And Parker was selected from the entire 7th grade to be a TA (helper) to the principal's secretary. She pulled him out of a computer class so he could be her TA.
These children must have an AWESOME mother.
Aren't you glad I don't send out Christmas letters! (ha)

Stretched

Our family is definitely in full swing SCHOOL mode. We're back to getting up before the sun, and hurrying and scurrying off to our various academic pursuits. While I'm getting to know my feisty first-graders, my husband is creating powerpoint presentations to teach geometry to high-schoolers. Hillary is bossing around the marching band. And Parker has started cross-country.

When we get home from a fun-filled day, tired and hungry, there is still dyslexia tutoring to attend to, homework to be done, flowers to be watered, dog-medicine to be given, laundry to be put away...you get the idea. And did I mention that Hillary is taking Spanish II by corespondence course on top of ALL her regular classes so she could take choir, band, drama, AND art?
I'd say we're all feeling a little stretched...


But no one more than Parker! After he complained for the 15th time this evening that his butt hurt, his legs hurt, his calves hurt...basically everything from the waist down, Hillary (the veteren runner) gave him some sisterly advice. "You gotta stretch it out or run it out."

And she proceeded to show him exactly what that meant.

And even though stretching sometimes hurts, it can be good for you.

I'll have to remember that.

But first I have to look up the Beatles' names for Parker's research report...and make playdough for tomorrow....s-t-r-e-t-c-h!

Mothering

My women's bible study this week talked about how all women were created to mother...whether or not you ever give birth to a child. Women mother our friends and our siblings, our co-workers and our husbands (unfortunately! ha). And we mother other people's children. This got me thinking about some of the women in my life who mothered me, even though their own children were grown and gone, and my own mother was doing a fine job. Still these women took time to touch my life.
There was Gracie Farris, who gave me recipes to put into my recipe box for a girl's club project. Her Fresh Apple Pie is still the best thing I've ever tasted. She was small and old and bent with white curly hair, and she made me feel tall. She bought me my first training bra. She brought it to me one day, out of the blue, all wrapped up in pretty paper. I can't imagine what she was thinking (as I have never been "blessed" in that department), but I felt SO grown up.
And there was Mildred Laws, who often babysat my sister and I when our parents had to go out of town overnight. She would come stay at our house, and we would all pile into mom and dad's bed. She was large and soft, with wrinkled papery skin, and a magical ability to wake up at whatever time she thought about before she went to sleep. We would make her wake us up at 4:00am, just because we thought it was so neat that she didn't need an alarm clock. And we would be ready for school so early that we'd have to walk around the block a couple of times. Now that I'm grown up, I realize that she had some hard knocks in her life...but she always seemed at peace to me. She was never in a hurry.
Both of these women are in heaven now. And I don't know if they ever knew how much they impacted my life. I just hope there are little girls and little boys around here who will someday grow up and think fondly of me.
Who are you mothering?
And who mothered you?

First Day

So here we are...the first day of school has come and gone.

My husband's hurry to get out the door did not prevent me from immortalizing the moment with my camera. You can't tell it from this picture, but he was grumbling "I don't see you posing for first day pictures." Well, I might if he had the camera in his hand.

First day - first hour outfit (suitable for practicing with marching band)

First day - 2nd thru 7th hour outfit (suitable for impressing friends and turning heads...even if you do have trouble walking in those shoes).

First day I'm-wearing-this-because-it's-comfortable outfit (suitable for being oneself in).

In other news...the start of a new year means meeting with new teachers to try to explain Parker's dyslexia and classroom accomodations. The teachers all seem very nice, but I'm always nervous...trying to convince them of what a wonderful kid he is and making sure he gets what he needs to succeed while at the same time not coming across as one of those parents who is high-maintenance and overly involved. I wish I knew the magic words to say. I wish there was no need for magic words. I wish I could keep him safe.

But it's not my job to make his path smooth and straight. It's my job to make sure he has good shoes and a walking stick...and to cheer him on as he climbs the path himself. He is smart. He is strong. He is capable. He is funny.

And I am proud.

One Woman

My grandma passed away recently. She was 80 years old. She lived a long, full life and died peacefully with a smile on her face and surrounded by her grown children, who are living their own long full lives.
As hard as it is to say goodbye, her death brought the whole family together in the same place at the same time. What a jumble of ages, stages, personalities, and hairstyles! We hugged, we caught up, we laughed and cried....and we made people pose for pictures!

She had seven children...

Twenty-five grandchildren...

And twenty-nine great-grandchildren.

Don't even get me started on the "extras" (spouses, etc)

You don't live for 80 years and produce that many offspring without leaving a lasting impact. She was just one woman from a little town in Arkansas...but I think she changed the world.

A cup of fun

It's about that time again...time for school to start.
So I took Hillary and two of her friends into the city to coordinate "first day outfits". We were chauffeured by Mr. Silent Reflective Sunglasses. (He told me later "Do you know that in the span of 11 miles they said the word "like" 40 times? I counted." What can I say, he's a math teacher.) Anyway...we ate, we laughed, we shopped.
At the first stop, my husband lost himself in Best Buy while we girls went into Gordmans. I followed them around, offering to hold their selections while they picked outrageous things off the clearance racks for each other to try on. They all came out of their respective dressing rooms complimenting each other on how "awesome" the other looked, while at the same time, downplaying the "awesomeness" of their own ensemble. But this was our first store, and no self-respecting girl spends her money at the first store. So it was on to the mall.
By this time, they didn't really need me anymore. Hence the reason The Man was allowed to come...to keep me company while the girls did their own thing. He and I sat in the food court, munched on a pretzel, and talked about everything from our bible study the night before to the crazy outfit the girl across the way had on.
Finally, my phone rang. "Mom, I think we're ready for you...you know...that one thing..."
That "thing" was bra shopping. One of the girls is being raised by a single dad. He's a great guy and does his best, but she was outgrowing her "innerwear" and I don't think either of them felt comfortable doing anything about it. So I volunteered. It was the unspoken mission of this shopping trip.
I sent my husband to the huge, two-story sporting goods store and met the girls at Victoria's Secret. They all stood around awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot, sipping their fast food sodas and not really meeting each other's eyes. I grabbed the nearest sales lady and said, "We need some help with fitting." "Sure, follow me right this way.." We trailed her like ducklings to the fitting rooms where she turned around, tape in hand, and said, "OK..who's first?" Again, no eye contact. So I jumped in.."Me!" She measured quickly and gave my size out loud. When the girls saw how painless it was (and that I was the smallest one of them all, and I was okay with that) they all got right into the fun. Each girl was given a dressing room and several bras to try on. They came out talking about how this one was comfortable and that one was too lacy. I gave them all the tips I knew about making sure the cup fit right and the back strap should be parallel to the floor - not pulling upward. I explained that a nude color bra doesn't show through a white shirt even though it seems like a white bra would be the thing to wear. And shared the secret of a well placed puff of stuff sewn into the cup, making the most of what you have (or don't have!). In the end, we didn't buy anything. The prices were prohibitive (although it took all my impulse control not to put the $48 bra on my credit card for the girl who wasn't even my daughter). But the goal had been reached. The taboo was broken...the secret woman wisdom shared. The girls now had the tools they needed to shop on their own or with their credit-card-carrying parent.
We left the mall with three happy teenage girls in three new first-day outfits (and an unhappy man with empty golf club-less hands...but that's another story.) And a substitute mom with her cup running over with joy.