The previous post has been in my head since June, but I couldn't break down and let it out. Yesterday I broke down, anyway, so I thought I should write it down while I was there. As I was crying and praying, this song came on the radio.
This had to be God's timing, and I cried a little more that He would send this to me when He knew I had about all I could bare. Part of what hurts so much is daring to hope and then having those hopes shattered. But I know what He was telling me, that I do know how it all ends, I just don't know how we'll get there.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Missing Scrapbook Pages
I think of all the small moments I used to record--a cute expression, a party at school; blowing bubbles in the spring air, splashing around against the summer heat, crunching through autumn leaves, sledding down winter snows. As events big and small happened I mentally noted what each spread would look like, how I would arrange the pictures to tell the story of our life, waiting for the rare bits of time I had to work the images together, carefully blending photographs and papers and stamps and ink and tape and reflective thoughts and love. I wondered when I'd ever have enough time to finish it all for you, for you required a lot of my life.
Now all I have is time--time to imagine you playing beside your sister, time to create a theme for a non-existent birthday party I might have thrown for you, time to hurt and time to try and block the hurt, time to walk by your portrait hanging on the wall and wonder when the next time will be that I make sure your hair is cut, your clothes are bought and laid out, your picture form is filled out and returned. In the small things and big things alike I mourn the missing scrapbook pages, pages that were torn from me before I knew to hold tighter to the book that was you, not knowing the emptiness that was soon to come.
Being a mother is hard, often deemed the hardest job of all. Still we say it's more than worth it, as we women enlist for the call over and over again. What some of us know is that being a step-mom is harder, yet. Loving a child that is not your own but caring for him as if he is, having all the responsibilities of motherhood but none of the rights, sharing her with another women who in all actuality is sharing her with you--all of these things and more cloud our emotions and entangle our thoughts, yet like motherhood we raise our hands and say it's more than worth it.
Knowing all of these things, I thought I had the world's two hardest jobs--being a mother and a step-mother. How could I know I didn't know what hard was at all? But through the days of those missing scrapbook pages I learned. Not being allowed to be one is the hardest of all.
Now all I have is time--time to imagine you playing beside your sister, time to create a theme for a non-existent birthday party I might have thrown for you, time to hurt and time to try and block the hurt, time to walk by your portrait hanging on the wall and wonder when the next time will be that I make sure your hair is cut, your clothes are bought and laid out, your picture form is filled out and returned. In the small things and big things alike I mourn the missing scrapbook pages, pages that were torn from me before I knew to hold tighter to the book that was you, not knowing the emptiness that was soon to come.
Being a mother is hard, often deemed the hardest job of all. Still we say it's more than worth it, as we women enlist for the call over and over again. What some of us know is that being a step-mom is harder, yet. Loving a child that is not your own but caring for him as if he is, having all the responsibilities of motherhood but none of the rights, sharing her with another women who in all actuality is sharing her with you--all of these things and more cloud our emotions and entangle our thoughts, yet like motherhood we raise our hands and say it's more than worth it.
Knowing all of these things, I thought I had the world's two hardest jobs--being a mother and a step-mother. How could I know I didn't know what hard was at all? But through the days of those missing scrapbook pages I learned. Not being allowed to be one is the hardest of all.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Lord Willin' and the Creek Don't Rise...Or Even if It Does
"I wish every class I taught had an institute like this," I told my friend, "because I would be there." After Monday's class of useful instruction on the "what," "how," and "why" of teaching Advanced Placement English, I was thankful I had signed up and couldn't wait to learn more on Tuesday. Then the rain came. I left home Tuesday morning about 20 minutes early, in case I had to take an alternate route from our home outside of Novinger into Kirksville. I soon found out that "alternate" was an understatement.
All three routes were blocked by flood waters from the estimated six to eight inches of rain overnight. I wasn't giving up, yet. I turned around and went home to see if my husband could drive the truck through waters that I wasn't going to risk in my car. He checked the levels and thought we could take the longest route if it wasn't blocked farther down the road, but when we headed that way, the water had risen in the little time it had taken him to come get us. We turned around and went home. We weighed our remaining options. There was only one other way around the waters, and that was by taking deer trails through the woods. Daniel thought even the old Bronco 4 x 4 might get stuck in there and suggested we take the horses until we reached a place where my father-in-law could pick me up. While my husband is an experienced rider, I wasn't really excited about the prospect of sloshing through the woods, bouncing around for three miles on a horse I had barely ridden.
As I walked into class, the mud brushed off my boots and my hair back in place, my instructors and classmates greeted me enthusiastically and listened to how I got to class come hell or high water.
Monday, July 5, 2010
The Darndest Things
I can't count the number of times I've recounted a story about something cute that one of the kids have said and someone says, "You should write that down," and I reply, "I know; I should." I have plans to continually update this post instead of creating a new post for each story. It's a little late getting started, but here it is.
07/01/10
I was in the bathroom stall at Hy-Vee while Sheridan waited in the main part of the bathroom for me. A woman came out of another stall, and Sheridan said, "My mom has a shirt like that except it doesn't have a hole." Praying that the hole was a factory-made, part of the design hole, I listened for the response. In an accent I heard, "Oh, we're like twins. We're (attempt at a word, attempt at a word, attempt--) identical." Sheridan's solemn reply seemed a little apologetic, "I don't speak Spanish." To which the lady replied, "I'm not Spanish; I'm Japanese."
07/05/10
Sheridan was supposed to be getting ready for bed while I checked Facebook. She came in and said, "Wait!" and clicked on a video someone had posted. I gave her a look that meant, "This isn't getting ready for bed." It was already running, and she put her arm around my shoulder and in her 'grown-up speaking to kid' voice said, "This is about God."
08/09/10
I think it's funny when Sheridan uses phrases that I wouldn't expect a 5 year old to use. The other day she modified one. She was eating a snack, and although I can't remember what it was, she said, "I'm a fan of this." She hears us say, "I'm not really a fan of broccoli" or whatever it may be. She decided the positive version must work, too!
A couple nights ago, she was saying her bedtime prayer. It went something like this, "Thank you for all the things you've given us, like the Earth. We know they're really special and important, and we don't want them to slip right out of our hands."
08/14/10
I've tried to instill a bit of American pride in Sheridan. She understands that soldiers fight for our country. She stands and puts her hand on her heart for the flag, pledge of allegiance, and national anthem. She loves to see red, white, and blue together in clothing, etc. and yells out, "American flag!" She knows the eagle is an American symbol, too, and is extremely excited to see one. Perhaps the next move is to teach her American geography.
Yesterday at the Kirksville License Bureau she became indignant to see a flag displayed. "This is not America," she exclaimed with her five-year-old attitude. "Yes, Kirksville is in America," I tried to explain. By the time our conversation was over, she was still a little leery. One thing about it, this daughter of Uncle Sam isn't about to let anyone disrespect her red, white, and blue!
10/28/10
"It's just a Jack; it needs a candle in it to be a lantern."
12/30/10
Me: My little girl is growing up!
Sheridan: ...to do big things!
02/01/11
Oops. It looks like I have not kept up with this and have undoubtedly missed out on recording some cute ones.
At the supper table:
Dylan-So, Dad, what are we going to get Julie for Valentine's Day?
Daniel-We can't talk about it in front of her!
Dalton-Julie, can you be done and leave the table?
07/02/11
Sheridan: You're the smartest mom I ever had! (Plus you're the only one....)
07/03/11
Sheridan: (Counting stars while waiting for the fireworks to begin) One, two, three, four. Oh, no. I'm supposed to be in bed by the time the fourth star comes out.
10/16/11
I was trying to explain to Sheridan what a Bible college was.
Me: People learn things like they would at college and also things about the Bible at Bible college. You know how you learn things at school but you learn about the Bible at Sunday School?
Sheridan: Yeah, but at school we learn about things God made.
(I'm thinking that was pretty neat until...)
Sheridan continues: Like sex.
Me: What!?!
Sheridan (unfazed): Insects...Did you know there are more insects than people?
Me: Oh. Um, yeah. Oh. (Still fumbling for words. It's important that one hears each syllable of a word, apparently.)
04/21/12
Sheridan's sweet and cute prayer about my dad who is in the nursing home waiting for a compound fracture to heal: Please help Grandpa with whatever it is so that he can come home and we can all be happy again..
07/?/12
Sheridan often puts together combinations of outfits that drive me crazy. Sometimes I let her wear them, sometimes I try to convince her to change, and other times I make her change; it depends on the occasion. This particular morning, she had put something together that actually matched!! and looked cute. I told her that her outfit looked cute.
She said, Thanks. I knew you would judge it.
I just nodded.
She reprimanded me, "For God did not send his Son into the world to judge the world...."
I tried not to laugh. "That was about sin, not about fashion."
01/24/13
I get a kick out of Sheridan's mature speech for her age. Tonight Dalton said something to irritate Sheridan, and she said, "He is just trying to anger me."
05/02/13
Daniel was telling Sheridan a bedtime story about how we met. Since men often get the details wrong (and he did) I gave Sheridan the correct version. She pats him on the cheek and says, "You don't know your history."
03/10/14
Daniel had been ornery to Sheridan (again!) by tying her jacket sleeves together. She threw her jacket in the laundry without noticing and when she took it out of the washing machine to put it into the dryer, she said, "Look what happened in the washing machine!" I told her what had really happened, and after reprimanding him she said to me, "That father of mine is one of a kind."
07/01/10
I was in the bathroom stall at Hy-Vee while Sheridan waited in the main part of the bathroom for me. A woman came out of another stall, and Sheridan said, "My mom has a shirt like that except it doesn't have a hole." Praying that the hole was a factory-made, part of the design hole, I listened for the response. In an accent I heard, "Oh, we're like twins. We're (attempt at a word, attempt at a word, attempt--) identical." Sheridan's solemn reply seemed a little apologetic, "I don't speak Spanish." To which the lady replied, "I'm not Spanish; I'm Japanese."
07/05/10
Sheridan was supposed to be getting ready for bed while I checked Facebook. She came in and said, "Wait!" and clicked on a video someone had posted. I gave her a look that meant, "This isn't getting ready for bed." It was already running, and she put her arm around my shoulder and in her 'grown-up speaking to kid' voice said, "This is about God."
08/09/10
I think it's funny when Sheridan uses phrases that I wouldn't expect a 5 year old to use. The other day she modified one. She was eating a snack, and although I can't remember what it was, she said, "I'm a fan of this." She hears us say, "I'm not really a fan of broccoli" or whatever it may be. She decided the positive version must work, too!
A couple nights ago, she was saying her bedtime prayer. It went something like this, "Thank you for all the things you've given us, like the Earth. We know they're really special and important, and we don't want them to slip right out of our hands."
08/14/10
I've tried to instill a bit of American pride in Sheridan. She understands that soldiers fight for our country. She stands and puts her hand on her heart for the flag, pledge of allegiance, and national anthem. She loves to see red, white, and blue together in clothing, etc. and yells out, "American flag!" She knows the eagle is an American symbol, too, and is extremely excited to see one. Perhaps the next move is to teach her American geography.
Yesterday at the Kirksville License Bureau she became indignant to see a flag displayed. "This is not America," she exclaimed with her five-year-old attitude. "Yes, Kirksville is in America," I tried to explain. By the time our conversation was over, she was still a little leery. One thing about it, this daughter of Uncle Sam isn't about to let anyone disrespect her red, white, and blue!
10/28/10
"It's just a Jack; it needs a candle in it to be a lantern."
12/30/10
Me: My little girl is growing up!
Sheridan: ...to do big things!
02/01/11
Oops. It looks like I have not kept up with this and have undoubtedly missed out on recording some cute ones.
At the supper table:
Dylan-So, Dad, what are we going to get Julie for Valentine's Day?
Daniel-We can't talk about it in front of her!
Dalton-Julie, can you be done and leave the table?
07/02/11
Sheridan: You're the smartest mom I ever had! (Plus you're the only one....)
07/03/11
Sheridan: (Counting stars while waiting for the fireworks to begin) One, two, three, four. Oh, no. I'm supposed to be in bed by the time the fourth star comes out.
10/16/11
I was trying to explain to Sheridan what a Bible college was.
Me: People learn things like they would at college and also things about the Bible at Bible college. You know how you learn things at school but you learn about the Bible at Sunday School?
Sheridan: Yeah, but at school we learn about things God made.
(I'm thinking that was pretty neat until...)
Sheridan continues: Like sex.
Me: What!?!
Sheridan (unfazed): Insects...Did you know there are more insects than people?
Me: Oh. Um, yeah. Oh. (Still fumbling for words. It's important that one hears each syllable of a word, apparently.)
04/21/12
Sheridan's sweet and cute prayer about my dad who is in the nursing home waiting for a compound fracture to heal: Please help Grandpa with whatever it is so that he can come home and we can all be happy again..
07/?/12
Sheridan often puts together combinations of outfits that drive me crazy. Sometimes I let her wear them, sometimes I try to convince her to change, and other times I make her change; it depends on the occasion. This particular morning, she had put something together that actually matched!! and looked cute. I told her that her outfit looked cute.
She said, Thanks. I knew you would judge it.
I just nodded.
She reprimanded me, "For God did not send his Son into the world to judge the world...."
I tried not to laugh. "That was about sin, not about fashion."
01/24/13
I get a kick out of Sheridan's mature speech for her age. Tonight Dalton said something to irritate Sheridan, and she said, "He is just trying to anger me."
05/02/13
Daniel was telling Sheridan a bedtime story about how we met. Since men often get the details wrong (and he did) I gave Sheridan the correct version. She pats him on the cheek and says, "You don't know your history."
03/10/14
Daniel had been ornery to Sheridan (again!) by tying her jacket sleeves together. She threw her jacket in the laundry without noticing and when she took it out of the washing machine to put it into the dryer, she said, "Look what happened in the washing machine!" I told her what had really happened, and after reprimanding him she said to me, "That father of mine is one of a kind."
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
School's Out for the Summer
It's the last day of school which will soon turn into the first day of stay-at-home motherhood for the summer. Being a teacher has allowed me the best of both worlds...and the worst.
I have a lot of time at home that most working mothers don't have, but I have separation anxiety and a few secret tears from the "first" day of work over and over again. I have the carefree days of parks and swimming pools and libraries and the crabby days where we just stare at each other. I am finally able to make creative treats from the ideas that I collect all year that would measure up to the certain SAHM I watch with envy, but there's no one there to take them to. I wonder when my husband will make it home and watch the clock for the time he will get out of my space again. I have time to be refreshed from a long school year and the itch to start a new one. I'll be able to give the alarm clock a well-deserved break only to be awakened by yelling kids.
The laundry will stay caught up, the dishes won't pile up, and my reading list will dwindle. I'll run errands whenever I feel like and not rush to beat the clock between getting out of work and closing time at the stores. Homework, supper, bath, bed, repeat will not be running through my head. My garden will receive proper attention, and my neighbors will get to know me again. But there will be days where someone is bored, and sometimes it will be me.
I'll start to miss my other "babies," my kids at school. My head will starting preparing a mental calendar of lessons. My classroom will begin to beg for another chance.
I once told a friend I taught with that I would be a better mother if I weren't a teacher and a better teacher if I weren't a mother, because I didn't feel like I had enough time to be "good" at either. She wisely responded that she understood the juggling act it takes to be a working mother, but that she was a better mother because she was a teacher and she was a better teacher because she was a mother. I turned that over for awhile and realized she was right. Having an educational background allows my children to be learning all the time, and having the experience with other children makes me understand and possibly appreciate my own a little more. Being a working mother makes being a part-time stay at home mom a little sweeter, as well. On the other hand, being a mother makes me more empathetic to my students' struggles and more at ease with the parents. I remember that each of my students is someone else's precious baby and I'd like to think that makes a difference in how I approach them. Going back to work is a break from working at home, but staying at home is a break from working at school.
So soon I'll have the luxuries and headaches from being a stay at home mom, and I'll be ready to start work again. I can't wait.
I have a lot of time at home that most working mothers don't have, but I have separation anxiety and a few secret tears from the "first" day of work over and over again. I have the carefree days of parks and swimming pools and libraries and the crabby days where we just stare at each other. I am finally able to make creative treats from the ideas that I collect all year that would measure up to the certain SAHM I watch with envy, but there's no one there to take them to. I wonder when my husband will make it home and watch the clock for the time he will get out of my space again. I have time to be refreshed from a long school year and the itch to start a new one. I'll be able to give the alarm clock a well-deserved break only to be awakened by yelling kids.
The laundry will stay caught up, the dishes won't pile up, and my reading list will dwindle. I'll run errands whenever I feel like and not rush to beat the clock between getting out of work and closing time at the stores. Homework, supper, bath, bed, repeat will not be running through my head. My garden will receive proper attention, and my neighbors will get to know me again. But there will be days where someone is bored, and sometimes it will be me.
I'll start to miss my other "babies," my kids at school. My head will starting preparing a mental calendar of lessons. My classroom will begin to beg for another chance.
I once told a friend I taught with that I would be a better mother if I weren't a teacher and a better teacher if I weren't a mother, because I didn't feel like I had enough time to be "good" at either. She wisely responded that she understood the juggling act it takes to be a working mother, but that she was a better mother because she was a teacher and she was a better teacher because she was a mother. I turned that over for awhile and realized she was right. Having an educational background allows my children to be learning all the time, and having the experience with other children makes me understand and possibly appreciate my own a little more. Being a working mother makes being a part-time stay at home mom a little sweeter, as well. On the other hand, being a mother makes me more empathetic to my students' struggles and more at ease with the parents. I remember that each of my students is someone else's precious baby and I'd like to think that makes a difference in how I approach them. Going back to work is a break from working at home, but staying at home is a break from working at school.
So soon I'll have the luxuries and headaches from being a stay at home mom, and I'll be ready to start work again. I can't wait.
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