I think I'm having separation anxiety or first grade anxiety or homework anxiety. I really don't know which. If it's separation anxiety it took 1 1/2 years to get here! I know that I'm not the one in school, but this school year has been really hard on me! Boo left this morning in tears because of her homework (which was not done and was lost over the weekend), which inadvertantly left me in tears as well! Should 6 years olds REALLY have to stress over homework? Should 6 year old even HAVE homework? OK, different subject, I'll probably end up doing a whole blog on homework before this is all over with. But seriously, this is all so stressful! So I ended up emailing her literacy teacher explaining the homework situation, letting her know how seriously Boo takes this and that we would be glad to redo it tonight.
OK, so maybe late onset separation anxiety (hehe, sounds like a real diagnosis, doesn't it?). Maybe it's because last year was so blissfully wonderful in school that it didn't really FEEL like school? I was all involved, volunteering, getting notes and emails from the teacher (who is, I must admit, an absolute gift from heaven and we've already requested her for bub for next year). This year I'm completely disconnected, cut off. Maybe this is real life school and I've just never experienced it before (from the parenting side). I've offered to volunteer in the class but it's "not needed yet". Or maybe it's because next year Bub starts kindergarten and then they will BOTH be in school and then no more babies for me? I don't know. Boo loves school, loves her teacher, but I see the stress already. Most of it self-inflicted. But since I don't have a clue what's going on in school (or at least I don't feel like I do), what can I do?
I don't know. I'm just walking around here with a big lump in my throat, hoping she doesn't get in trouble for not having her homework (which is obviously my fault if I threw it away), waiting anxiously for a response from her literacy teacher, assuring me that all is alright.
MAN I need a hobby! :)
Monday, September 24, 2007
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
What a Week!
It's been a non-stop crazy week so far! It started Sunday morning, the first "choir" Sunday of the season. The choir did great, of course. I'm glad to get that first performance out of the way, it's always a little nerve-wracking for me! Of course I had to pick a more difficult piece for the first Sunday, which looking back, I think wasn't wise. The choir was fine but I could have decreased my stress level if I had picked something a little easier. I guess I got a little carried away directing, though. In the middle of the performance I whacked the microphone that was standing beside me! Luckily it didn't fall over in a loud crash! I don't think anyone noticed, but I tried to control myself after that!
Monday consisted of getting the kids to school, running for a lengthy trip to Walmart, picking up Matthew, cooking and cleaning and then off to committee meetings at church at 5:30pm. Who says I don't have a full time job? I'm on the worship committee and am secretary for the Deacons, both of whom met that night. Made it home by 7:45pm, just in time to get the kids to bed!
Tuesday? More of the same. Entertaining Matthew, running errands and of course yesterday was the YMCA's High School Musical 2 Extravaganza, which Rachael has been SO excited about! I dropped off her and her friend after school and then Matthew and I showed up after the movie for a swimming party. Home in time for dinner, homework and bedtime. (Yes, first graders with homework. I can't even IMAGINE a few years from now if they ALREADY have homework!)
Today? More of the same. Got to take Matthew to school, Nana to the store, get some recycling done, housecleaning and get ready for choir tonight. I know, for those who have "real" jobs it sounds like I've got it easy. Trust me, it's not. I've neglected the house more than I should this week, simply because I've been out running. Maybe I'll find time for me next week?
As you can see, no new and exciting news, just the same ol' stuff. But we are looking forward to my Dad coming to visit in 2 weeks! It's always fun when he comes. He entertains the kids and never requires us to entertain him! He enjoys just living our lives while he is here.
Time to get Matthew ready for school!
Monday consisted of getting the kids to school, running for a lengthy trip to Walmart, picking up Matthew, cooking and cleaning and then off to committee meetings at church at 5:30pm. Who says I don't have a full time job? I'm on the worship committee and am secretary for the Deacons, both of whom met that night. Made it home by 7:45pm, just in time to get the kids to bed!
Tuesday? More of the same. Entertaining Matthew, running errands and of course yesterday was the YMCA's High School Musical 2 Extravaganza, which Rachael has been SO excited about! I dropped off her and her friend after school and then Matthew and I showed up after the movie for a swimming party. Home in time for dinner, homework and bedtime. (Yes, first graders with homework. I can't even IMAGINE a few years from now if they ALREADY have homework!)
Today? More of the same. Got to take Matthew to school, Nana to the store, get some recycling done, housecleaning and get ready for choir tonight. I know, for those who have "real" jobs it sounds like I've got it easy. Trust me, it's not. I've neglected the house more than I should this week, simply because I've been out running. Maybe I'll find time for me next week?
As you can see, no new and exciting news, just the same ol' stuff. But we are looking forward to my Dad coming to visit in 2 weeks! It's always fun when he comes. He entertains the kids and never requires us to entertain him! He enjoys just living our lives while he is here.
Time to get Matthew ready for school!
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
The Invisible Woman
I got this in an email today. How appropriate!
Perspective: The Invisible Woman
By Nicole Johnson
It started to happen gradually. One day, I was walking my son Jake to school. I
was holding his hand, and we were about to cross the street when the crossing
guard said to him, 'Who is that with you, young fella?'
'Nobody,' he shrugged.
'Nobody?' said the crossing guard, and I laughed. My son is only 5, but as we
crossed the street I thought, 'Oh my goodness, nobody?'
I would walk into a room, and no one would notice. I would say something to my
family like, 'Turn the TV down, please,' - and nothing would happen.
Nobody would get up, or even make a move for the remote. I would stand there for
a minute, and then I would say again, a little louder, 'Would someone turn the
TV down?' Nothing.
Just the other night, my husband and I were out at a party. We'd been there for
about three hours, and I was ready to leave. I noticed he was talking to a friend
from work. So I walked over, and when there was a break in the conversation, I
whispered, 'I'm ready to go when you are.'
He just kept right on talking.
That's when I started to put all the pieces together. I don't think he can see
me. I don't think anyone can see me. I'm invisible.
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one
of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken
to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'
Obviously not! No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the
floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at
all.
I'm invisible.
Some days, I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie
this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human
being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer,
'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30,
please.'
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that
studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude -but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again.
She's going-- she's going-- she's gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend
from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was
going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking
around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and
feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only
thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana
clip, and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling
pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package,
and said, 'I brought you this.'
It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd
given it to me until I read her inscription: 'To Charlotte, with admiration for
the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would
become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:
* No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.
* These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.
* They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.
* The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral
while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside
of a beam! He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much
time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will
ever see it.'
And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that
is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness.
It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.
I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the
people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on
something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far
as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there
are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's
bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My mom gets up at 4 in the morning
and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'You're gonna love it there.'
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing
it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only
at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the
sacrifices of invisible women.
Perspective: The Invisible Woman
By Nicole Johnson
It started to happen gradually. One day, I was walking my son Jake to school. I
was holding his hand, and we were about to cross the street when the crossing
guard said to him, 'Who is that with you, young fella?'
'Nobody,' he shrugged.
'Nobody?' said the crossing guard, and I laughed. My son is only 5, but as we
crossed the street I thought, 'Oh my goodness, nobody?'
I would walk into a room, and no one would notice. I would say something to my
family like, 'Turn the TV down, please,' - and nothing would happen.
Nobody would get up, or even make a move for the remote. I would stand there for
a minute, and then I would say again, a little louder, 'Would someone turn the
TV down?' Nothing.
Just the other night, my husband and I were out at a party. We'd been there for
about three hours, and I was ready to leave. I noticed he was talking to a friend
from work. So I walked over, and when there was a break in the conversation, I
whispered, 'I'm ready to go when you are.'
He just kept right on talking.
That's when I started to put all the pieces together. I don't think he can see
me. I don't think anyone can see me. I'm invisible.
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one
of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken
to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'
Obviously not! No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the
floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at
all.
I'm invisible.
Some days, I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie
this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human
being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer,
'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30,
please.'
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that
studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude -but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again.
She's going-- she's going-- she's gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend
from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was
going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking
around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and
feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only
thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana
clip, and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling
pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package,
and said, 'I brought you this.'
It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd
given it to me until I read her inscription: 'To Charlotte, with admiration for
the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would
become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:
* No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.
* These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.
* They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.
* The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral
while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside
of a beam! He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much
time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will
ever see it.'
And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that
is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness.
It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.
I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the
people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on
something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far
as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there
are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's
bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My mom gets up at 4 in the morning
and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'You're gonna love it there.'
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing
it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only
at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the
sacrifices of invisible women.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Mammograms
Today was the day. My first mammogram. Oh the horror stories I had heard with all the squishing and pressing and pinching. Come on now....it was nothing! Don't get me wrong, it wasn't fun, but it was really nothing.
2 1/2 years ago my best friend since kindergarten died of breast cancer. I couldn't help but wonder what her first mammogram was like. She was so young! She has been on my mind so much today. I miss her, so many days I get angry because she's gone. She had babies the same age as mine, now they have no mother. It's just not fair. But SHE is the reason I had this mammogram. Every year on her birthday, I donate to the Komen foundation. I can't bring her back, but I pray that they will find a cure. She has a daughter. I have a daughter.
So girls, go get your mammogram. It's so not a big deal! But in so many ways, it is a big deal. It took me all of 15 minutes. Do it for your babies, if nothing else.
2 1/2 years ago my best friend since kindergarten died of breast cancer. I couldn't help but wonder what her first mammogram was like. She was so young! She has been on my mind so much today. I miss her, so many days I get angry because she's gone. She had babies the same age as mine, now they have no mother. It's just not fair. But SHE is the reason I had this mammogram. Every year on her birthday, I donate to the Komen foundation. I can't bring her back, but I pray that they will find a cure. She has a daughter. I have a daughter.
So girls, go get your mammogram. It's so not a big deal! But in so many ways, it is a big deal. It took me all of 15 minutes. Do it for your babies, if nothing else.
I've thought of so many "blog-worthy" subjects over the weekend, but of course with kids running around, etc who has time to write? And when I try to write, my concentration gets thrown out the window (considering all I hear is "Mommy, I need.....Mommy, get me.....Mommy, I gotta PEE!" So you see, no time for writing.
So, I'll do a separate blog for each subject, just so I can keep up. First of all, I've moved my blog from MomsBuzz. It's all fine and good, but I was getting tired of the pop-ups and half the time I'd lose my entry and have to start over again. Sorry, I don't have the time OR the ability to even remember what I've written! So here's my new home. Welcome.
Ya know, in a world of High School Musicals and Hannah Montanas, the most interesting thing happened the other day. My kids watched Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and The Sound of Music (well, most of it). It was so cute for them to watch the things that I watched when I was a kid. See, I was a musical FREAK! I memorized all the songs to every musical known to man and dreamed of someday performing them onstage. I would get SOOO emotional when the songs came on and just sing and dance...yes, I was a drama queen. So, then there's Boo. JUST like me. It's so funny because I know EXACTLY how she feels. Of course she's singing all the High School Musical songs, but she wants to be Gabriella and she sings with SUCH emotion for a 6 year old! But anyway, it was nice to see her enjoying those oldies. She was even dancing around the room singing "I am sixteen going on seventeen". Cute.
So, I'll do a separate blog for each subject, just so I can keep up. First of all, I've moved my blog from MomsBuzz. It's all fine and good, but I was getting tired of the pop-ups and half the time I'd lose my entry and have to start over again. Sorry, I don't have the time OR the ability to even remember what I've written! So here's my new home. Welcome.
Ya know, in a world of High School Musicals and Hannah Montanas, the most interesting thing happened the other day. My kids watched Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and The Sound of Music (well, most of it). It was so cute for them to watch the things that I watched when I was a kid. See, I was a musical FREAK! I memorized all the songs to every musical known to man and dreamed of someday performing them onstage. I would get SOOO emotional when the songs came on and just sing and dance...yes, I was a drama queen. So, then there's Boo. JUST like me. It's so funny because I know EXACTLY how she feels. Of course she's singing all the High School Musical songs, but she wants to be Gabriella and she sings with SUCH emotion for a 6 year old! But anyway, it was nice to see her enjoying those oldies. She was even dancing around the room singing "I am sixteen going on seventeen". Cute.
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