Why My Kid is Late for School Today

Bubba was late for school today.

Well, not really.  7:34 is the cut off.  We were there at 7:32....but there's a story there.

I have the day off of work today.  Well, kind of.  I have to run one kid to two different appointments during the day and clean the house and catch up on laundry and pay bills and start planning next week's meals/groceries and continue to deal with the fallout from my paypal account being compromised and make two different dinners and go through our stuff for some specific donations needed and pick up another kid from an afterschool activity but other than that, I am off today. I also have a meeting tonight but I don't consider that work; it's for a charity event that I want to participate in.  It's the type of thing that brings me joy, so it's not work.  

Not that caring for my family doesn't bring me joy.  It's a joy to clean around toilets and scrub stains from tee shirts.  An absolute freakin' joy.

I have the day off of work today.  I was excited last night because of school schedules that I would get to sleep until 6:00 this morning!  As if that happened...5:00 was it for me.  Sleeping in is hard most times I do get the chance.  So, at 5:00, I've got LOTS of extra time.  Facebook (a.k.a. the devil to any accomplishment whatsoever) grabbed me in those early hours.  I sat downstairs with a coffee and my phone by the woodstove. For a long time.  I started stoking up the stove and to get it burning hotter at some point...it had cooled down to 400-ish overnight.

Around 6:30 I realized I hadn't heard any movement above me.  I didn't think too much of it...after all, my oldest is super good about getting up herself and she was driving Bubba to school, so I figured she'd be after his butt to get up.  Kept working on the stove and Facebooking/Pinteresting/Emailing/Web Surfing.  BAD MOMMY.

6:44 I go up to dark bedrooms and no movement.  Panic raised.  Get up, get up, get up!!!!!  

7:06 Daughter is ready to go.  I tell her to just go.  Bubba is in the kitchen in boxers and socks.  The sight of this makes me want to scream.  A lot.  His clothes are in the dryer.  YOUR CLOTHES ARE IN THE DRYER? **Side note to all the moms who have expressed jealousy at one time or another that my kids are responsible for their own crap:  It ain't all sunshine and roses.  Case in point this morning.

Bubba is finally ready to go around 7:22.  This is cutting it VERY close.  I am not screaming but I really, really want to. Racing off to school we go. I may have let out an expletive or two at the bottom of the driveway.  Maybe.

***Another side note: I am wearing pajama pants, a long sleeve tee, no bra, hubby's huge brown coat, and a daughter's brown moccasins with no socks.  And I have naturally curly hair.  You can imagine how fabulous it looks in the morning. There is NO WAY I can go in and sign a kid in late.  Not. Happening.

7:32 (actually 7:31 and a half) I triumphantly pull into the drop off area at the middle school."Run!" I say to Bubba.  He gets out of the car and walks up to the school.  Normal pace.  I want to lose my mind.  

A teacher is calling out to him about something.  About him getting to school so late.  She saunters up to the door to let him in, condescendingly telling me the doors lock at 7:30.  Thank you.  Thank you for being so nice.  Thank you for letting me know you'd never dare to arrive at school 2 minutes before you had to be there.  You probably don't have kids.  You probably are never late for anything.  You've never had a Bubba in your kitchen in his boxers and socks at 7:06. Thank you for sauntering up the door at such a leisurely pace.  It's so freaking cold outside that any normal person would have been rushing to get inside but not you, teaching me that lesson as a mother was much more important.  Thank you, because I can now blame you.  It can be your fault Bubba is late.  I can release my responsibility and also my anger at the Buick two cars in front of me that seemed to be sightseeing and the Jeep Cherokee at the stop sign who seemed to never want to cross the road (hello, meet my friend, the chicken.  You'll learn a lot from her.)

I've even been able to let go of some of my frustration with Bubba.  The dire grounding I was imagining on the way to school while I was listing in my head all the things that irritated me to no end about the situation has lightened, thanks to you, ma'am.  Happy my taxes go to pay such wonderful folks who can admonish me in all my parenting fails. 

I'm going shopping for an air horn today.  I'm just going to set it off at the time I get up, whatever time that is on any given day.  That might teach them something.  I am often awake from 4:15.  Yes.  The thought of this evil plan makes me happy.

Two-plus Years Later....

So....

I've been reading over my blog.  My very old and dead blog. I haven't been here in 2.5 years.  How does time fly so quickly?

Shortly after my last blog post, we were house-hunting and put in a lease contract on a house.  At the last second, I mean the LAST second, the seller backed out.  Fortunately, we were able to stay in our rental home.  In April 2013 we found another property and successfully leased and moved in at the end of the month.  It was a crazy fast transaction/move and kind of drove me nuts!

June 2013 my daughter, Beanz, came down with a bad pneumonia.  Actually, I think it was the last few days of May.  Anyway, she was a sick little girl for just over a month.

Fast forward to fall...Beanz was 13 and in 8th grade...November 12 and 13 she is sent home from school early.  November 13 we go to the doctor, I request a chest x-ray to make sure pneumonia is not returning.  He is on the same page and orders it.  We leave his office and go to the x-ray place, get the chest x-rays.  The xray place is 15-20 minutes from my home.  Before I even get home he has left me a message, asking me to call him right away.  When I call him, he is stuttering, sounds flabbergasted.  He says, "I don't know what this is.  I don't know what this is. There's a mass in her chest."  He sends us to Penn State Hershey Medical Center ER.  They take us in and do their own xrays.

After midnight (it is now November 14, my son, Bubba's 10th birthday), 2 doctors come in and take me to a quiet room.  They tell me that Beanz has a cracked rib and while my mind is racing about who could have hurt my child they are telling me that they think it is cancer. 

I just look at the doctors and say over and over, "I can't cry.  She will know if I've been crying when she looks at me.  I can't cry.  I can't cry."

I cry a little anyway.  But not much.  I go back to her room.  There are not words that can express how it feels to go in to your child smiling and assuring them that they are still just looking around to see what is going on and they will do more tests.  I wasn't going to tell her until we knew.  I also didn't want to tell her before I told her dad.

As soon as I could, I got back to the quiet room.  I was emailing my friend, Nurse Nancy, in disbelief.  I called my fiance and I called Beanz dad, so they would know.

Later in the day, November 14, with her dad and I by her side, Beanz was put under anesthesia to undergo a needle aspiration of the grapefruit-sized tumor that was in her chest. Her stepmother and My Love (now officially her step dad) joined us in the afternoon.

I think it was around 8 that night that they confirmed it.  I cried like crazy.  It was hell. I was consoled by my ex-husband's wife.  Odd, I suppose.  But My Love had gone home to care for his children and my other 3 children, and to take them all out to dinner in an attempt to soften mommy missing Bubba's 10th birthday.

After pulling myself together, we went in to tell Beanz.  Her dad told her and she said, "Am I going to die?"

I cannot tell you the heart hurt that comes from that question when your child says it.  It is unreal.


Beanz went through 12 weeks of chemo, then surgery to remove 3 ribs and reconstruct her chest wall with plastic mesh, then 6 weeks of radiation 5 days a week, running concurrently with 22 additional weeks of chemo.  Some of her chemos were 2 days.  Some were 1 day.  And some were 5 day inpatient infusions.

She is, right now, 8 months cancer free.  Her hair is growing back like crazy and she's enjoying life.


I've been itching to write.

I don't know if I will write about Beanz.  I haven't figured it out yet.

I always wanted to write about my time in the hospice with my mother, but I found that writing it meant I had to re-live it.  I'm not sure if it would feel the same to write about Beanz. 

I've already written here, right now, waaaayyy more than I've been able to write up to this point about her.

And I'm not even crying.

Good sign.

If anyone is still out there, I think I'm going to get the blog up again.  Not sure about the format it will take on yet, but I need to write.

Do It. Thoughts related to CT Mass Killing

I cried for hours yesterday, horrified yet glued to the news broadcast.

All those children.

Children.

As a mother, as a human, it ripped right into my heart.

I kept thinking about the storms in New Jersey and New York.  We can help to rebuild homes.  We can donate clothes, time, money, food and other resources.

There is nothing to do.  There is no resource to grab up and send to these families.

Families who have probably purchased Christmas gifts that were anxiously wished for and to be opened with glee in less than 2 weeks.

Families who were rushing around, getting holiday preparations in order, taking kids where they needed to go, juggling work and sports and school and homework.

Mothers who were planning to make their kindergartener's favorite meal Friday night.

Fathers who were planning to leave the office just a little early yesterday to take Junior shopping for a present for mom.

Grandparents who were navigating shopping malls and box stores, searching for the one un-findable treasure for precious grandchildren.

Families with one less child to tuck in at night.

A million hugs and kisses that will never be given nor received.

It breaks my heart.

Reality Check

So often, things come across our lives that wake us up.  Usually, we think hard about our lives in whatever area that may be for awhile, and then we go on as we were after a few weeks.

Let's not do that.

I know I am not the only parent who procrastinates.

I know I am not the only parent who wants to do better by my children.

I know I am not the only parent who gets caught up in things-to-do-places-to-go madness, shouting about messy rooms and toys in the living room, loud play, loud music, loud laughter, constant wants for time, for things, for first position in the lineup.

I can pretty safely say that those little children and their parents did not think a moment about a mess or noise or any other annoyance in their last moments and in the moment they heard of the tragedy, respectively.

The next time you are feeling quick to anger, slow down and think of families who wish they had a child to be noisy during the football game or during a phone chat with a friend.



Take them places, and forget about the things-to-do once in awhile.

Lower the standard for mess allowance to a happy medium.  As long as there is not filth and you can navigate, just shut the door.

Grab a basket and throw the toys in.  It can be a basketball game and will quickly be done with joy.

Let them play.  Let them be loud whenever you can. 

When their voices ring out in laughter, treasure it instead of shushing it.  Laughter at midnight is still joy.  Don't forget that.

Give them your time and attention.  This is, for me, the hardest.  I get overwhelmed by so much need for my attention and tend to shut down a bit.  All too soon, they will want nothing to do with you.

Give them things when it is in your power and within reason, and as long as they are grateful and not entitled.

Give them first position.  Also a struggle for me in my household....The answer is, I think, to set up certain times that belong to one child and to one parent only.  I always mean to do this and put it off.

And that brings me to my title.

Do it.

Now.

I am talking to you, yes.  But most of all, I'm talking to me.


Protect with Scripture and Prayer

I am personally speaking Psalm 91 over my household.  My goal is to speak it daily; not yet a daily habit, but I'm working on it.  This is at the urging of a Pastor from our church, and I'm so thankful for it.  I've written it out in the first person and carry it with me so I can read it aloud whenever I feel the need.

I encourage you to do the same; use the scriptures to bind you up in safety and comfort.  When all is said and done, it's all we have and it's everything we need.

Jesus Freak

I haven't posted for a long time.

Well, kind of...

A few weeks ago I wrote a very long post about some really negative self-talk I was going through....I have been giving to myself on a daily basis for the last 20 years.

I didn't publish it, and I'm glad.  You don't need to read that.  It wasn't helpful or uplifting.  I'm not here to bring people down.

This topic has been on my mind for a couple of months.  Someone said to me "...since you got all religious...." in the course of a conversation.  I found it quite funny, but also quite sad.

I didn't suddenly "get religion" or "find Jesus" or however you want to put it.  On a side note, Jesus wasn't lost, people!

I have had, for quite some time, a heart for Christ.  I love Him.  I want to please God....I have a hard time with certain things, but that is my heart's true desire.

However, I let outside influences in, and I let them in hard.  I hid my heart for God; I acted in ways that would disappoint him every single day.  So I can see why people thought my life changing was a sudden change...but it was only the outside catching up with the inside.

When my mother died last year, I was surprised and a little offended by how many people felt they had to assure me she was in a better place.

I knew that!

I didn't cry so much for my mother.  I cried for me.  I cried for my children.  I cried for my unborn nephew she would never cradle in her grandmotherly hug on this earth.

She was an incredible grandmother, by the way.

I was hit with an Emeril Lagasse BAM! by how much of my heart was hidden from view to all those around me.  That's why they said those things...because I never let people see my heart for God.  I was ashamed that I wasn't broadcasting His love for all to see.  How selfish of me.   Selfish toward God and selfish toward every person I had come in contact with who did not see through word and action His love demonstrated.

So yes, I'm different...but the same.  I always had Him in my heart...I just didn't really understand my duty, my responsibility as a Christian fully.  I didn't really take to heart my Christianity, because I was hoarding it for myself. 

I had taken babysteps over the years in my spiritual living with many of the steps being backward in direction, but over the past year I've taken giant leaps in spiritual development.  That's what you're seeing. 

Keep looking, take it all in.  He's still working great things in me, and I'll be glad to share them with you and walk this path together with you in His love.

I can't sign off without a disclaimer:

I'm still going to mess up.
I still have things I'm working on fixing.
I'm not claiming to be perfect.
I'm not claiming to be "better than".

I think people mistake being "Christian" for being perfect and good all the time.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Being Christian means your heart is right.  It means you have a goal and mindset to follow Christ.  It means you sin and you need help and forgiveness...it also means you give those things - help and forgiveness - freely.

It means so many things, but this is the meat of what I want people to understand...

It doesn't mean I've got it all down by the world's standards...

but it does mean God looks at me through a different lens, the lens of Christ's sacrifice. 

It means hope.

Anyone without hope can have it right along with me...you're never too far gone, never too broken, you've never sinned too much...there is no such thing!

Dear New Mommies,

I had a fight with my girls last night.  They are 12 and 14.

I started thinking about you new mommies, with babies and toddlers and preschoolers.

I thought, "If you think this is hard, you are in for a big surprise later on!

Of course, when I was in diaper-sippy cup-tantrum-napping-car seat chaos, I thought it was the hardest thing I'd ever done.  I cannot express to you how incredibly wrong I was.

Hard?  When most problems in your child's life can be solved with a baby wipe, animal crackers, or a nap, be thankful.

When your prayer is that you may be able to get some sleep, be thankful.  One day your prayer will be that you have imparted enough moral strength in your child so they are not going to sleep with some pimple faced, awkward kid who they think the sun rises and sets on.

I've been there.  I'm not speaking from a place of one person who had one child and 6 nannies to help.  I have 4 children...I've done the part you're doing.  I've had a heart attack when they let go of my hand and toddle down the sidewalk.  I've chased kids who hide in the clothing racks in the stores.  I've been that lady with the screaming baby in the grocery store.  I've been the mom who is screaming with fear while they call a  "Code Adam" in WalMart because someone wanted to hop over and "just look at the fishies, mommy."  I've had kids fall in the pool, break bones playing, leave half their skin on the road from bicycle accidents.

I've been puked on, pooped on, peed on, slobbered on, and spit up on, and so have the floors in my homes and some pieces of my furniture.

Get out a baby wipe.  Get some bleach. 

You got this.

Prepare yourself now for teenage years.  You know how much information you read while you were pregnant?

Start now with the teenage years books.  Read them now to prepare.  Start praying now for their teenage years.

This is hard like you never imagined.

See, you will have to protect their hearts, their...psyche, for lack of a better word.

And so many people have access to them in their teen years.  So many people.

It is frightening how quickly a child can change their internal dialogue to say, "I'm no good."

Frightening.

When your daughter's heart breaks, so will yours.

When your daughter is under attack from some broken and confused other teenager, so will you be.

When your daughter comes up short, so will you.

You will feel everything just as you feel every fall as she learns to walk now.

Take care.

Keep them from bumps and bruises, by all means, but shore up their hearts.  Figure it out now, read and gather and fellowship with women who have older kids.  You need that information.  You need to know.

I'm writing this because there are mommy blogs everywhere about little kids.

"How to keep your 2 year old occupied for 1.3 hours"
"Ways to handle tantrums"
"How to feed your toddler"
"Make your own clothes, baby food, diapers, shoes, and wipes"

Whatever.

That is the easy part.  I can tell you all of that in 3 seconds....keep your 2 year old occupied for a long time with water (pool, pouring...whatever)....tantrums - don't tolerate them.  Put your child in a safe place and walk away.  Food-feed them whole foods all the time and they'll be fine.  Make your own - Pinterest!  Ha ha....But use what is available...buy clothes or trade clothes with friends....buy wipes, making them is not worth it....buy shoes...feed your baby the same food you eat, you don't have to go crazy on it, just keep some out before you add a lot of spice.

Life is simple, basic with babies and toddlers.  Enjoy it.  And use the time to prepare yourself for later years.

In 12 years if I still have this blog, you can come back and thank me.

Acceptance

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I was thinking, during church yesterday, about kids.  I have 4 at my disposal for daily study, so my brain is churning quite a lot.

Kids are absolutely amazing creatures.

I was thinking about the difference between the younger and older, and how they view themselves in light of acceptance by God and by other people.  I'm not sure if it's a personality difference or just an age difference, but take the youngest...

Nuggetizer is friendly.  Although when put on the spot by an adult or faced with interacting with a cute girl in front of his mommy he becomes bashful, in general he is outgoing and without reservation when approaching new kids.

I was thinking about this the other day...Bubba is 8 (almost 9!) and is usually very tough and stoic (read my post about his electrocution here.  However, when faced with riding in the car to football with a kid's family who I know but he barely knows, he actually cried.  Unusual for him, very unusual.

Nuggetizer, on the other hand, has gone to football and faced a playground full (I mean, like at least 25 kids there!) of random kids he has never seen, and before I can set up my chair and put my water down he has a trail of kids following him around and playing with him.  He randomly approaches other kids and invites them to play.

Definitely his father's son.

His mom has panic attacks about attending events where she will know only 1 or 2 people.  Yes.  That's me. 

I once went to a wedding with a boyfriend, and I knew no one.  No one.  After the wedding and before the reception, there was lag time and we stopped at his house.  I panicked at the thought of attending the reception, a much more social event than the wedding, and eventually shooed him off to attend alone. 

I'm not that bad anymore, but I still get very nervous.  It's gotten easier for me throughout my life because I realize that many people besides myself are nervous too.  If I can focus on making them comfortable, it takes the pressure off because I am no longer thinking of myself.

Many things in life can be fixed by taking the focus off of one's self.  That's another post for another day, maybe.

I am taking a very roundabout route to my point.

I started thinking about Nuggetizer's complete acceptance and assurance of God's love, of Jesus' sacrifice for us.  I don't think he, at his age, has ever said in his mind, "I'm not good enough for another blessing." 

How many of us adults have questioned our good-enough-ness in this manner?  I'm not the only one, I know it.

Nuggetizer just says, "Whoopeee!  Another blessing!  Alright!  Yeah!" And moves on with his life.

At what age do the devils of self-doubt, guilt, unworthiness and anxiety creep in?"

When do we start worrying about what others think of us?  When do we start thinking that we need to "deserve" our blessings, and letting doubt sway our thoughts?

Mommydom

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I have been in a brain-frenzy for the past several months.

What should I do?

Who should I be?

Who am I if I'm not "mommy"?

It has really gotten me into a funk.  Two things, I believe, played a part in this...first, my kids started being with their dad for a full week, every other week, for the summer and second, I am facing the empty-ish nest of having my youngest child start full-day school this year.

These two things have thrown me into a state of questioning, of what should I do, of formerly unknown freedom that to me, who has had children at home for 14 years, seems foreign and daunting.

In the toddler years, I though it would never end.  I got so tired of saying, "No!" and changing diapers and cleaning sticky fingers!  Every time I was pregnant I seriously doubted my sanity and sometimes wondered if God hated me.  I'm not proud of that last thing, but it's true.

There were many times when I cried out to him, "Why?" 

Times when I was at my wits end and knee deep in sippy cups, bottles, diapers and potty training.

So now...

I have no diapers.

Everyone is potty trained.

I haven't seen a sippy cup in 2 or 3 years, until my nephew started using them a few months ago, and I never have a bottle to wash unless I'm hanging with my darling nephew.

Random aside - I absolutely adore being an aunt!  All of my other nieces and nephews live far, far away, so I've not experienced aunthood too much since my niece moved across the country 15 or 16 years ago at the age of 9 months.

I have contemplated going back to school to finish a degree. (We started our family as I was finishing my second year, so I stopped at that point for Mommydom)

I have contemplated a full time job.

I have contemplated a part time job with more hours...like...every day hours.  I currently work one or two days a week...usually 4 or 5 hours.

I have contemplated starting my own business.

Here's the thing.

Who said being a mom isn't enough?

I mean, how did that get into my head?

I don't know what has gotten into me that I feel I suddenly have to get a full time job because there will be 6 hours in the middle of every day when children are not here.

I could easily fill these hours with laundry, cleaning, groceries, volunteer work, etc. 

Or maybe, just maybe, I will read a darn book as a reward for being "on call" for the last decade and a half!!!!

Don't get me wrong...

I'd like to not be on the budget I'm on.  I'd like to buy a newer car, maybe, or go get a pedicure.  I'd like to not have to say no.  I'd like to go buy my kids the expensive tee shirts just because I feel like it.

But....is that worth having to scramble to get someone to watch them when they have to stay home from school, sick?  Is that worth having some other woman take their temperature and soothe their aching belly?  Is that worth missing field trips, helping in the classroom, being there as they get off the bus to say, "How was your day?". 

Many days may be just fine, but there are days when a child dissolves into tears the moment they get off that bus and away from friends.  Is it really the Internet or television or food that needs to soothe them on those days?  Do they really need the loneliness of an empty house then?

No.  They need their mommy.

What about summer?  Especially onlies or youngest...I believe strongly that leaving children home all day long with nothing to do is a recipe for disaster and trouble.  Yes, I believe children need a chance to get bored and creative, but with direction available if needed.  So if I commit to a full time job, what will happen during summer?  I can't just quit every June.

Being a mother is the most important job I have.  Everything else must work around that.

I can't figure out what made me think that I should look into trying to work being a mother around something else.

Childhood is so incredibly short.  Every year goes by faster and faster; it's beginning to take my breath away.  There will always be time to make money, there will always be more things to spend it on, but the time to make memories and to write in the life stories of my children is fleeting, and I'm not sacrificing it for anything so selfish as a bigger house, a newer car, or anything else.

I don't need to be "something else" because the truth is, I'll always be a mother and I'll always be "mom" but the days of being "mommy" are short and precious.  I intend to be present for them, every day.

I'm a citizen of Mommydom, and darn proud of it.