Update

My, that last sounded firm didn't it? I'm stopping this one...now. I honestly don't even remember writing it. That's how my life has been lately. February doesn't seem so long ago, although March is about over.

I guess I'll try to keep this up, but maybe it will evolve into being a little more focused, or at least more regular. Life has gotten in the way. One of the rules is not to overdo it with talking about family, but let's just say this is a very hard time of life at the moment.

I just got a little freedom meaning even my youngest child is now in college, and suddenly I am hit with helping to care for an aging parent, and not my own, but my husband's, which of course is different. I'm assured that it won't impact my life, but that isn't realistic. I can't really go into it all in a blog, and I won't...I'll save that for my prayers, which I'm doing a lot of these days.

Just know...it is very, very difficult.

Am I Being Tested?

I have had a couple of rough days. They happen infrequently, thankfully. Heh! That's it...a number of my family and friends are posting on Face book what they are thankful for, so maybe today's should read I'm thankful that days like the last two don't happen all that often.

I got snapped at about a little thing (at least it was to me) that was an error of omission on my part and unintentional (those are the most hurtful kinds of snaps to receive), one daughter was in an accident (her fault) and I fear the mother of the other driver is going to be one of those who has her son go around wearing a neck brace. I quite by "accident" found out from the officer at the scene that when I left the scene, the mother of the young man (who was positively a gentleman, even though his mother is apparently not a lady) followed him around trying to convince him he was hurt.

I talked to another daughter at around midnight last night, sobbing because of her nasty roommate who has absolutely no respect for the fact that my daughter also lives in the dorm room, bringing people in at all hours, out drinking, never brushing her teeth or taking showers, making the room smell because she smokes and is dirty...you get the picture?

Today I had to rush in and have some of my mid-quarter Progress Reports rerun because I had mistakenly misread or something...the cutoff date for having grades entered into our program and therefore had to adjust some grades. I was in the process of doing that yesterday when my daughter called me to come to the scene of the accident.

I have been quite a bit behind in some things at school. It happens. I'm used to that; but today I fell even further behind when our priest came to visit. Now don't get me wrong; I am thrilled our new priest wants to be involved in the school, but someone needs to explain the situation to him. We have a schedule, we have lessons to teach; time is always the enemy to a teacher. It is THE most challenging thing when it comes to teaching...time management. Even five minutes makes a huge difference to a teacher. Minutes are EXTREMELY VALUABLE in a classroom. He visited my classroom for about 45 minutes or so; he wanted to answer questions from my students. Do you know the kinds of questions first graders come up with?

They are frequently:

1. Not questions at all, but stories or statements (like my mom's cousin's birthday is on Thanksgiving).

2. Questions they couldn't understand even if the priest could answer them himself (like when was the universe created...and being a former engineer, our priest actually tried to answer all the questions like that, in length...like taking five minutes to ten minutes to answer...and by the time he finished he had long lost that child's attention).

3. Repetitive...and even so our priest didn't point out that they were repetitive but answered them again...and at the same length.

4. Embarassing....(I got REALLY lucky this time)

This didn't just happen to me. I think it happened to at least three other teachers. It was exhausting. Oh, also...we had our little letter cards out spread all over the tables getting ready to practice some spelling and by the time he left the kids had theirs all mixed up with their neighbors.

While he was there, one little girl kept putting her foot up on her chair and you could see her underwear, a little boy kept doing what boys (and men) do, and adjusting himself...making me think he had to desperately go to the restroom, some of them became totally uninterested and pulled out a book to read, etc., etc.

And OF COURSE...I didn't know what to do...to say...do I stop him, do I tell him we are out of time, do I tell him they have to probably go to the bathroom, do I cut him off? I mean after our principal, he is sort of the big boss. Will she say anything to him? I think he is a good guy. I just don't think he understands...and.....again...he is a former engineer...they sort of think like lawyers and that is something I know about.

Blast from the Past

Ed and I went to dinner last Saturday evening to a fabulous Greek restaurant in Fountain Square which is very near to where I grew up. The area is booming thanks to some efforts at renovation and quaint restaurants and shops. In my childhood there was no Interstate 65 running north and south through the middle of Indianapolis (which was actually the end of the area for many many years...it split the neighborhoods, many homes became rentals as families moved out, and it was dead for years). Before the interstate, there were nice little neighborhoods of middle class families, with dads who went off to work daily and moms who stayed home. My school, Public School #18, also known as Abraham Lincoln School was across the street from the first house we lived in (a rental), and then later (from 3rd grade on) a house just a block away. That home, where my parents still live, is the one and only home my parents ever owned. I believe it cost around $10,000.

I walked to school each morning, came home for lunch which I ate watching Popeye and Janie, and walked back to school, to return home at the 3:15 p.m. bell. Mom and her friends were in the PTO, had garage sales, sat in each other's backyards while their children played, and we all went home in time to sit down for dinner together every evening at 6 p.m. sharp. We then sat in front of the television watching Andy Griffith, Beverly Hillbillies, Carol Burnett, Sonny & Cher, Dick Van Dyke, Petticoat Junction (and those were from 3rd grade on...probably before that were shows even I barely remember...Wagon Train, etc.). It would never have occurred to my parents, or any parents, to complain to a teacher about school issues; and if we got in trouble at school there was no question it was our fault and we were in trouble.

Before Fountain Square is as it is now, it had a Murphy's "dime store." Actually it still may be there, but it can't be the same. I bought a lot of my school dresses there as a child, something like 2/$5. My mom used layaway. I can still smell that place, warm salted nuts, popcorn...and I can hear the sounds...a "ding, ding, ding" in the background...and I still really don't know what that ding was for. There was a soda fountain. There was an area where you could by 45 records....not actually purchase 45 different records, but actual vinyl records that ran at the SPEED 45 on the turntable. They were sold in sleeves, either plain or with the band's picture on the front. When I was 7 and my sister 14, I'd watch her buy the latest greatest release from the Beatles. She had (and later I had one too) a little carrying case for the 45's. You also had to have the little yellow plastic pieces to fit in the hole in the center of the record so it would play smoothly. At Easter you could actually go to Murphy's and buy chicks or ducklings, and I think we owned a duck for awhile. We also once owned a rooster, whose name was Sir Cedric, and he was mean. When my mother would go out the back door to hang the wash (of course) Sir Cedric would chase after her. Yes, we had a rooster in our backyard in Indianapolis. Sir Cedric was soon banished to a farm in southern Indiana.

In those days we also actually went outside to play, if you can imagine. We were outside from the time we got home from school until it got dark out, especially in the summer of course. Our parents didn't worry about where we were. The streets were safe. Of course there was some crime probably, but mothers didn't have to think about their children being abducted or that a child molester lived in the house down the street. You can't tell me that exposure to such things in the entertainment industry and the media hasn't had an impact in the numbers of sick and criminal minds today.

We were very imaginative and adventurous about how we spent our time, using our entire city block at dusk to play a game called Bloody Murder during which we tried to hide from each other. If you were seen, even from a distance, you were considered "murdered" and out of the game. I played jacks on the front porch of a friend for hours on end. We drew Hopscotch on the sidewalk and played, we jumped rope, we went around the neighborhood collecting soda bottles which we could turn in to the corner grocery store (owned by a neighborhood family who lived behind it) for money to buy penny (yes, penny) candy...25 cents equaled 25 pieces of candy. We bought soda from a machine where you put in your money (15 cents) and pulled the bottle out. My mother kept her old shoes, dresses, purses and jewelry...what little she had. It was put in a bag which was called a rag bag (she had one when she was growing up too so that is what we called it) and I played dress up in those things.

My sister and I played pretend games together such as "Queen." If you were the Queen, everything...and I mean EVERYTHING had to be done for you. Like, if I was Queen and had an itch on my nose, my sister the servant had to scratch it for me. We loved horses, so we also pretended that one of us was a horse and the other the horse's owner. Yes, we would go around on all fours and the other one would climb on and put a rope or string around the other's neck to go for a ride.

It was a huge deal for us to go to a fast food restaurant. In fact there really weren't any for a long time, and then the only one was McDonald's and maybe Steak n' Shake (the drive in kind), and White Castle. We just didn't eat out. I think my mother bought the week's groceries for around $20 a week. It never ever would have occurred to me to NOT eat what my mother put in front of me. As a child I ate liver and onions, beans, kale,...absolutely anything she put in front of me. The word finicky didn't exist.

This visit to Fountain Square last weekend really got me thinking about my childhood, and how very little we had in material things, and how great my childhood was probably BECAUSE we didn't have a lot of things. This foundation that was laid for me is what I tried to give my own girls. While Ed and I have so much more than either of our parents, I still knew what was important, and I tried not to give my girls too too much when they were children. While forces outside of a parent's control often feel stronger than the parent's control, I at least tried to instill in them the idea that the simple things are the best. I'm thankful I had so little growing up. I know it wasn't easy for my parents, but it turned out to be a very rich childhood.

A Slump

I've been in a slump since school started. Don't ask me why, but I think I've reached a turning point. Maybe it has been adjusting to Mary leaving and my life changing. I don't know why that would put me in a slump because while it is bittersweet, I have actually had a sense of euphoria at having more freedom and less work when it comes to high school activities. I also really hadn't been feeling that well, and was feeling just a bit paranoid about it.

So I did do the smart thing. I got myself checked out and am all clear. The stress I seemed to be internalizing for whatever reason seems to have lifted. I was having what felt like a weird heart beat...what felt like my heart skipping a beat (which my doctor told me in reality it is not doing). So I've had blood work done, an EKG, thyroid check, etc., etc., etc...and I am all clear.

This week I have felt back to normal finally. The heart thing (which can be stress or caffeine related) is gone, I've been sleeping better than I have in a very long time, and my energy level is up.

I'm hoping that will result in getting some more projects done at home, at school, better organization, and Ed and I getting into a new routine of spending time together, taking some short trips, going out more frequently with friends, and just enjoying the freedom of doing what we want when we want.

I have a feeling maybe the whole thing was related to internalized stress over reaching a new stage of our lives. I suppose adults can internalize things as well as children.

Maybe my posts will even become more interesting. Sometimes I think that my life is boring now, but then...that's not all bad. Boring can be good.

What's Wrong?

Isn't something wrong when a six or seven year old doesn't know his grandparent's first name? I had my students take home an interview page and asked parents to help them complete the information on one or more of their grandparents.

My students turned them all in today and we took a few minutes to share them. I was naming each interviewee by name so I could connect the student with the grandparent, and I still have one person who has gone unclaimed. I don't get it. I understand they call them Grandma, Pappaw, Nana or whatever...but they actually don't know their grandparent's first or last name????

When one of my students looked confused when I gave directions for making a Grandparent Day card today and stated "What's a grandparent?" I decided there is something very wrong in the world..or maybe very sad.

On a final note, I found that as I read through the interview questions, I found myself almost relating more to the grandparents answering the questions than the parents of my students. Uh...yeah...I can remember black and white television, four channels (no cable, no HBO or anything), gas costing 34 cents a gallon, soda from the machine that cost 15 cents and you pulled it out (and you didn't dare let go 'cause it would slide back in and you'd lose your money), penny candy..25 pieces 25 cents, home made pizza every Friday night from Chef Boyardee kits, drive in movies (our local one sadly closed a year ago), entertaining yourself with a box because you couldn't afford toys, how huge huge huge a treat it was to ever, ever, ever eat out at McDonald's or anywhere (in fact I don't even remember restaurants existing they way they do now), walking home from school for lunch (no school buses)....

Man oh man, I could go on and on. And the scariest thing of all? The prospect that one day soon one of these little kids is going to come up to me and not start to call me "mom" the way they used to do, but they are going to say "Gran......"

And then I will retire.

The Baby

Here she is...my baby. Message to her sisters: Yes, you were and are alllll my babies. It's just that she REALLY is my baby, THE baby of the family. Here she is holding one of the boxes she has packed for her college trip. This is it. This Labor Day weekend, her father and I will be driving to Chicago to drop her off at DePaul University. It's starting to sink in...I can feel it. I've avoided it all year long...sort of .

All of her senior year in high school, with each passing event...each choir concert, the fabulous Madrigal Dinner, the musical...she has turned to me and said "Mom, did you cry?" I've sort of looked at her wondering what answer is it she wants? I cried...sort of...a little...if tearing up just a bit is crying. I worried that just tearing up would disappoint her since she has seen me profusely cry at some of her older sisters' performances. I never really answered her directly. So Mary, it isn't that those events didn't mean as much or touch me as much. Imagine how I felt playing Beauty & the Beast as you stood up there singing it. I maintained my composure but there were the few that dripped down my face as I held back so I could read my music. I think it is just that I had to remain stoic so as to protect myself until it was time.

I've been involved in the middle school or high school for 12 years now. I've seen my daughters perform on the high school stage as well as community theater. I've seen one or more of them sing at Carnegie Hall in NYC. I've been to Prague and Chesky Krumlov (a great little medieval town in the Czech Republic), Salzburg, Vienna, and Gumpoldskirchen (a great little wine town outside of Vienna. I've seen them sing on the steps of the Vienna Opera house, and in a salt mine in Salzburg. I've traveled to Peru and stood in Machu Pichu. I've seen them have lead roles or great parts in musicals....Hello Dolly, Bye Bye Birdie, The King and I, West Side Story, The Sound of Music, I Remember Mama, Down by the Ocean, Harvey, Jekyl and Hyde, You Can't Take it With You, Our Town, and loads more plays, including those when they were children in community theater.

It's over. It's starting to sink in. I will miss them performing. I hope I will see it again. What great memories. I'm not sad it's over in one way...they've had so many opportunities. I promoted those abilities, their involvement in the arts, since they were children. I took them to plays, and even when they were little I brought them up on movie musicals. (I was always shocked when they would come home from school and tell me that their peers had not hear of this movie or that when it was so familiar and so a part of our lives.)

Anyway, do you possible know how much you are loved...all of you? So, the baby will be leaving this weekend, but she's not so very far away and it will give us an excuse to visit Chicago. The others are well on their way...one finishing up undergrad and possibly planning on law school, one an English teacher, one pursuing a degree in Anthropology, and now the baby.

I think the dam is about to burst. I'll let you know. But that's ok. It's a passage. I've done what I am supposed to do. There are more good things to come...namely, some freedom for me. Don't worry, I'm not trying to be a parent who behaves as if other people don't love their children as much as I love mine. I just want to acknowledge that I am incredibly blessed as a mother.

(One last note...look for some blogs and pictures and stories now and then about their growing up years.)

Ode to Mommy and Daddy

Happy 79th birthday to my mother (tomorrow, August 16). It also happens to be my parents' wedding anniversary (the 62nd). My mother was just turning 17 when my parents married. That is amazing to me. She was born in 1930 and my father in 1927.

Those were the years of The Great Depression. I'm not sure they had a sense of the economic situation in the country at the time because they were born into it. I think that has a lot to do with what they instilled in me. I think that is why it was natural in our family not to focus on things, but instead using the imagination, and spending lots of time reading.

Neither one of them is well educated in the conventional sense. They did not go to college. My father did not complete high school, although a few years ago the Salem Indiana School Board issued him an honorary degree because of his service to the country.

He joined the Navy during WWII. He didn't see action but was on a ship, and I've heard some amazing stories about what goes on with sailors on those ships, e.g. the ceremony that takes place when a sailor crosses the equator for the first time.

Not being educated didn't mean a whole lot in their lives. My father was skilled and worked for a radio/television place, then in civil service at Ft. Harrison, and then part time again in an appliance store up until a few years ago. He used his hands. And he is smart. He should have been an engineer. He's one of those naturally handy guys who could fix anything.

My mother was born in Salem, Indiana. My father was born nearby in a town you usually can't find on an Indiana map, Fredericksburg. Both were born at home. My father first spotted my mother at the Salem roller skating rink. He was a sailor on leave and was too shy to ask her to skate, so a friend asked her for him. He was a sailor in uniform. Need I say more? My mother wasn't too shy to say yes.

So they were married on my mother's 17th birthday. My sister was born less than a year later, followed by my older brother, me, and my younger brother...girl, boy, girl, boy...that's us.

My mother stayed at home, my father worked....sometimes two jobs. She did kid duty. Dad came home, ate dinner, and rested. He had the boys involved in community sports. There weren't community sports for girls back then, so we girls hung out with mom. Even if they weren't formally educated, they saw that we were. They let the school and teachers do their job. There weren't helicopter parents in those days. If we caused problems in school, we'd answer for it. I don't think any of us ever had to answer because we behaved. It's just what you did. My mother was friends with other mothers, and they were in the PTA. We came home to eat lunch and went back to school in the afternoon. We attended the neighborhood school and walked there and back home.

I mentioned my father should have been an engineer. Well my mother should have been a nurse. Dad has had some pretty major health problems for around 27 years off and on. We call him the Everready Bunny. We thank God he's gotten through it all so far and has been around to see all of his grandchildren born, and many of them all the way through high school and into college. My mother continues to take care of all of his needs. He's spoiled, and he knows it I think.

So today (actually it is tomorrow but I'll be celebrating with the family, not blogging) I honor them both for all they have done for me, for my brothers and sister, and for our children. I love them both more than I can express. Happy 79th birthday mom, and happy 62nd anniversary mom and dad!

Another Parental Rite of Passage

I just returned from a two-day orientation session for Mary at DePaul University in Chicago. Ed, Mary and I spent the first day together, and then they separated us for the second day, although I know many of the same topics were covered, albeit from two very different perspectives.

This is the fourth time we've been through a college orientation (and another milestone...it will be the last). While not all of them were at the same school, they do have a lot in common. The same things are covered...housing, transportation, scheduling, time management, getting banking set up, financial aid, and on and on and on. The real juxtaposition occurs when we parents sit in on sessions run by current student panels and staff, and are shown things through what I know (because I've been through this before) but other parents don't know (because they are first timers) are rose-colored glasses.

I wanted to stand up and say "Get real." a number of times when parents asked questions about co-ed dorms (which they pretty much all are now and have been for some time), having guests of the opposite sex in rooms (which has pretty much been allowed for some time), and the question which always comes up about alcohol use. I just want to say, "You've laid the foundation. If they want to make a poor choice, they are going to make a poor choice."

My philosophy is and has always been to build a strong relationship of trust with your children. If you do (or maybe I'm just lucky) they will come to you...they will come and tell you they screwed up, and it is usually after the fact because they are in some sort of trouble, or they just feel guilty about it, or they found themselves in a situation which they thought they wanted to explore and suddenly it frightened them. When they come to you, it is a time to ask them if they learned something. It is not a time to yell at them or impose an overly punitive consequence. Usually the experience is lesson enough.

That doesn't mean you have to smile and say "It's OK honey." You CAN express your disappointment and displeasure. It's such a balance. In one session the presenter asked parents to raise their hand if they had ever made a poor choice. I don't think there was one person who did not raise his or her hand.

I'm by nature an observer. I've always been on the quiet side in some situations. I like to stand back and just watch. I've learned from observing. I've seen parents do things and I've watched the results, and I've learned what not to do. I've told my girls from the outset that I am not their friend. Yes, they've said to me from time to time...so and so's mother and she are best friends. From my observations, nine times out of ten that girl is or will be in some sort of major trouble. I of course also tell them I'm not so and so's mother, I'm YOUR mother. I've told them there will come a time when we will be friends, and that is happening now, but not until they are through high school and possibly college (or close to it).

I am not overly punitive and strict. I probably should have been a little more so sometimes, but when I've watched the parents of some of my daughters' friends adopt a "no tolerance" stance on some issues, those are the very girls who live a lie when it comes to their relationship with their parents. They rebel. You have to give them some freedom. You trust them until they give you reason not to.

The dynamics of every family is different. Girls are different than boys, parents do things differently. No one is absolutely right and no one is absolutely wrong. Maybe my philosophy is partly born of who my children innately are, how Ed and I have learned to balance it all, not only in dealing with things about which we have disagreed (which is sometimes REALLY hard to work out or maybe you don't even really completely work it out), but also in dealing with the distinct personalities of our daughters, and the interrelationships that exist in a family of six.

There are moments when your children come to you to own up to something, or to express how stupid what someone else their age did was, and you look at each other with a look that says "We did something right." It is very affirming. One of those moments was at orientation when we gathered back with Mary and she mentioned how a couple of the guys in her group were so immature. "Mom, one of them actually asked the Dean of Students...the DEAN OF STUDENTS, 'So what happens if we get caught smoking weed?' They are so immature!" Unless Ed and I are THE most naive parents there are, I have to say we have THE most amazing daughters.

Darkness

We all have those days. I'm having one. I can recognize it because I've been there before, for a lot more than just a day. My emotions and thoughts are swirling. It's probably a good day to write a poem.

I'm worrying about someone...frustrated with her, but also worrying. Why can't I accept that I will not be able to change her, nor should I.

I'm angry about a couple of things outside of my control. I keep rationalizing with myself and trying to look at them from another perspective. I'm trying to tell myself to let it go.

I hate double standards. I hate it when people make assumptions about me.

I feel a little like I'm not good enough. I climbed out of that hole a long time ago and am trying not to fall back in.

Why am I not included? How do people see me? Why do I feel left out? Am I insecure or what?

I hate it when people think I have it all.

It must all be the post vacation blues.