I need structure.
Without structure, I am a mess. I wander from point to point doing random little things, never accomplishing much. For me, "unstructure" is like treading water...I stay in one place, work really hard, but never go anywhere.
Without structure, I don't function well. I get edgy - I feel uncomfortable. I stress, and I don't sleep.
Without structure, I forget to do the things that need to get done. Usually, the things I don't do are the things I need to do to keep my sanity: I don't write a blog post for 49 days. I don't work on my book idea for 32 days. I don't workout for 14 days. I shove things into a storage closet that I cleaned out thoroughly four months ago, and then I have to clean it out again. I go to the grocery store daily because I forget to thaw out food for dinner. I'm keeping my head above the water, but I'm not going anywhere.
I've had really good reasons for feeling so unstructured, so I'm not going to beat myself up too much. And with the end of the year approaching, I kept thinking, I will start anew on January 1.
But even knowing that big change is coming in 2013, I couldn't stop feeling edgy.
So thankfully, during yesterday's lunch, I realized that waiting two more days just wasn't going to cut it. It was Tate who triggered this epiphany.
Tate: Mom, can I tell you a secret?
Me: Yes.
Tate climbs off his chair, walks around to mine, and whispers in my ear: I dipped my little weenie in yogurt, and it tasted good.
Me, horrified: What?
Me, realizing what we are having for lunch - Little Beef Smokies, mac-n-cheese, green beans, (and Tate's having a side of yogurt): Oh!
Me, smirking: Go tell your dad.
Thanks to Tate for providing me with this anecdote that reminded me that I need to sit down and write - that this is a part of the structure that I need.
I feel better already. Maybe I'll even workout today.
Cheers to a happy and healthy 2013!
Monday, December 31, 2012
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Inspired!
Last night I had the opportunity to see one of my very best friends accept an award for Excellence in Education for what she's done as a middle school social studies teacher. During her acceptance speech, she captivated the audience with an allegory of the teaching profession. Heading into last night, I knew that whatever she was going to say during her acceptance speech would be awesome. See, my friend is incredibly intelligent. She's witty. She's a fantastic writer. She takes pride in her job. She loves history. She thrives in the spotlight. And, she's good; she's very, very good.
As it turned out, it was not one of those well-written speeches delivered by a person who's an amazing speaker, which she is, but has no substance. And yes, she had a very receptive audience; it was filled with a mix of education professionals who love what they do and people who love their educational professionals and were there to support them. However, I think you would've had to have been made of stone to not feel inspired during her speech - it was packed with substance.
It's not that I felt as if I wanted to run right back into the teaching profession, even though as a former educator, I felt myself connecting to those amazing moments when you really get things right. It was the passion she spoke with about the awesome responsibility she has and how much she loves what she has the opportunity to do each day. Her message was yet another reminder to me that no matter what you're doing, you need to do it with fervor, and no matter how big or small someone else might deem the task, what's really important is what it means to you. Yes, there will be ups and downs - after teaching together for four and a half years and a friendship that has spanned almost ten - I know she's had her share, yet her passion for what she does helps her roll with the punches when times are tough.
I left the award ceremony last night feeling inspired, and it's a feeling that lingered as I woke up this morning. I realized that I have people in my life who are passionate about what they do; it's just that with everything that goes on in our lives, sometimes it's hard to see.
Like every other emotion, inspiration is contagious. I have been "afflicted" by this feeling of excitement and hope, and I feel good about what I get to do today. I am excited for the what the future holds and the opportunities that will come with it.
I have been inspired.
As it turned out, it was not one of those well-written speeches delivered by a person who's an amazing speaker, which she is, but has no substance. And yes, she had a very receptive audience; it was filled with a mix of education professionals who love what they do and people who love their educational professionals and were there to support them. However, I think you would've had to have been made of stone to not feel inspired during her speech - it was packed with substance.
It's not that I felt as if I wanted to run right back into the teaching profession, even though as a former educator, I felt myself connecting to those amazing moments when you really get things right. It was the passion she spoke with about the awesome responsibility she has and how much she loves what she has the opportunity to do each day. Her message was yet another reminder to me that no matter what you're doing, you need to do it with fervor, and no matter how big or small someone else might deem the task, what's really important is what it means to you. Yes, there will be ups and downs - after teaching together for four and a half years and a friendship that has spanned almost ten - I know she's had her share, yet her passion for what she does helps her roll with the punches when times are tough.
I left the award ceremony last night feeling inspired, and it's a feeling that lingered as I woke up this morning. I realized that I have people in my life who are passionate about what they do; it's just that with everything that goes on in our lives, sometimes it's hard to see.
Like every other emotion, inspiration is contagious. I have been "afflicted" by this feeling of excitement and hope, and I feel good about what I get to do today. I am excited for the what the future holds and the opportunities that will come with it.
I have been inspired.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Time Flies
I always thought the reason that the school year went by so quickly was due to the fact that I was so insanely busy being a teacher. My normal schedule would be to wake up around 4:00AM, workout/grade papers, get ready for school, teach, do homework, make dinner, clean up, get ready for bed, grade some more papers, go to bed, and then repeat for 179 days. Throw in a husband and two kids, and it made perfect sense for time to fly.
But even now that I'm not teaching full-time, I have noticed that time is still flying by...how can this be?
Take for instance, the school year. Even without me teaching, first quarter has come and gone. We've had school conferences and Halloween. Thanksgiving break is only 13 school days away, and Christmas and the end of the second quarter will come and go before we even realize it. This doesn't even account for my kids' and husband's sports' schedules. Throw them into the ring, and now we're traveling at warp speed and arriving at the end of May. Another school year down.
But what about each individual day? With no one at home, some people might think time moves slow. I met another stay at home mom shortly after the school year started, and she commented to me how bored she gets during the day. I wondered if I would ever feel this way? Occasionally, people like to tease me about all my "free time." I play along to be polite:
I have come to realize time flies whether you're having fun or whether you're too busy to realize you're not having fun.
Luckily, I'm happy to report that I'm having fun. During the time of the day that I should be sitting around being fantastic, I am instead constantly on the go trying to tackle never-ending, seemingly brainless household chores like doing the dishes, putting laundry away, and making beds. But it's also during this time that I stumble upon little treasure-troves of happiness: finding Tate's trashcan filled to the brim with Halloween candy wrappers and being reminded that while the kid needs to have his candy rationed, he's also incredibly giving, selflessly sharing his favorite candies with us simply because he knows we love them; or finding Ellie's tablet of drawings buried in her bed along with her flashlight, with several sketches of women with the Mona Lisa's curious expression - they're studying her in art - and being able to appreciate her interests and talents even though she's stealthily staying up past her bedtime.
In my current stay-at-home-mom-world, I stay challenged, I'm not bored, and I'm quite content with what I accomplish throughout the course of the day to take care of my family, my house, and myself. It gives me time to appreciate everything going on around me. It gives me time to think about what I want to do when I do go back to work that will allow me to keep this sense of serenity in balance. It gives me time to realize that time will fly by no matter what I'm doing, so I had better make sure whatever I choose to do is worth it.
But even now that I'm not teaching full-time, I have noticed that time is still flying by...how can this be?
Take for instance, the school year. Even without me teaching, first quarter has come and gone. We've had school conferences and Halloween. Thanksgiving break is only 13 school days away, and Christmas and the end of the second quarter will come and go before we even realize it. This doesn't even account for my kids' and husband's sports' schedules. Throw them into the ring, and now we're traveling at warp speed and arriving at the end of May. Another school year down.
But what about each individual day? With no one at home, some people might think time moves slow. I met another stay at home mom shortly after the school year started, and she commented to me how bored she gets during the day. I wondered if I would ever feel this way? Occasionally, people like to tease me about all my "free time." I play along to be polite:
 |
| Yep, this is me. |
I have come to realize time flies whether you're having fun or whether you're too busy to realize you're not having fun.
Luckily, I'm happy to report that I'm having fun. During the time of the day that I should be sitting around being fantastic, I am instead constantly on the go trying to tackle never-ending, seemingly brainless household chores like doing the dishes, putting laundry away, and making beds. But it's also during this time that I stumble upon little treasure-troves of happiness: finding Tate's trashcan filled to the brim with Halloween candy wrappers and being reminded that while the kid needs to have his candy rationed, he's also incredibly giving, selflessly sharing his favorite candies with us simply because he knows we love them; or finding Ellie's tablet of drawings buried in her bed along with her flashlight, with several sketches of women with the Mona Lisa's curious expression - they're studying her in art - and being able to appreciate her interests and talents even though she's stealthily staying up past her bedtime.
In my current stay-at-home-mom-world, I stay challenged, I'm not bored, and I'm quite content with what I accomplish throughout the course of the day to take care of my family, my house, and myself. It gives me time to appreciate everything going on around me. It gives me time to think about what I want to do when I do go back to work that will allow me to keep this sense of serenity in balance. It gives me time to realize that time will fly by no matter what I'm doing, so I had better make sure whatever I choose to do is worth it.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
What I know for sure after 39 years
Since today's my birthday, a friend suggested I write about what I know for sure after 39 years. Always thinking about my next topic, I found this idea intriguing, but challenging...which, as it turns out is good for me. Read on!
No one likes cheaters, so in this game of life, play fair.
It doesn't matter whether you're playing a board game or dodgeball or basketball, what kind of relationship you're in, how hard the test is, or how you wish some aspect of your life could be different - cheating, synonymous with lying, is never acceptable. Besides losing the trust of others, how can you even begin to respect yourself?
Challenge yourself.
By nature, I'm a highly competitive person, so the challenges I thrived on when I was younger almost always revolved around sports. Over the years, I've realized that I find great satisfaction in setting goals and achieving them. So, whether the challenge has been improving my time, winning a game, eating healthy, remodeling our house, paying off a bill, or finally getting that last load of laundry put away, it's the challenge that motivates me. The times in my life when I've really struggled have been the times that I've lost track of exactly what I'm shooting for.
Laugh...a lot.
I am so lucky to have married someone who finds humor in the same situations I do. Our humor may be dark and twisted; it may be slapstick; it may be downright inappropriate; at times, it's definitely stupid. But, we laugh. And thank goodness, our kids are following in our footsteps.
Look for the positive.
Sometimes, this is really hard. The birth of my son was one of the hardest days of my life. I could not see the positive when my baby boy, who I made inside of me, was born with a cleft lip, a misshapen nose, and a bluish tint because the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck. Even though the doctor said the facial deformity could be fixed cosmetically, all that registered to me was that there could be numerous other problems involving his heart, hearing, or brain. Tests would need to be run, and specialists consulted the next day. However, we didn't have to wait until the next day because Ellie dropped a plate. In a simple, clumsy act of a three year old, I saw the positive when Tate flinched at the sound of a plate crashing on the floor. After that, I knew that no matter what the doctors and tests said, everything was going to be just fine.
If you don't like something, fix it or get over it.
Negativity drags everyone down, and complaining incessantly doesn't help. If you're not willing to remedy the situation, then it's time to move on. If it's something that's very important to you, then you have to take action and make the change for the better. Either way, you will have improved your mental well-being (and the well-being of those who surround you as well).
Learn from your mistakes.
If I have come off sounding preachy, that wasn't my intention. It has been my intention to share with you those qualities that have shaped me over the past 39 years. I am not perfect. I will admit that I've been a cheater, but I've also been someone who's been lied to. I have risen to the challenge, but I've also failed miserably. I have let negativity consume me, but I've also been the unstoppable, believing, positive force. I have become so serious that I had forgotten to laugh. But along the way, I began recognizing what was good for me and what was not. I learned that mistakes are a part of life, and you can either ignore them or learn from them.
So what do I know for sure? I know I have a choice. I choose to challenge myself. I choose to fix it or forget it. I choose to play fair. I choose to be positive. I choose to laugh...a lot. And, I choose to learn a hell of a lot more over the next 39 years!
No one likes cheaters, so in this game of life, play fair.
It doesn't matter whether you're playing a board game or dodgeball or basketball, what kind of relationship you're in, how hard the test is, or how you wish some aspect of your life could be different - cheating, synonymous with lying, is never acceptable. Besides losing the trust of others, how can you even begin to respect yourself?
Challenge yourself.
By nature, I'm a highly competitive person, so the challenges I thrived on when I was younger almost always revolved around sports. Over the years, I've realized that I find great satisfaction in setting goals and achieving them. So, whether the challenge has been improving my time, winning a game, eating healthy, remodeling our house, paying off a bill, or finally getting that last load of laundry put away, it's the challenge that motivates me. The times in my life when I've really struggled have been the times that I've lost track of exactly what I'm shooting for.
Laugh...a lot.
I am so lucky to have married someone who finds humor in the same situations I do. Our humor may be dark and twisted; it may be slapstick; it may be downright inappropriate; at times, it's definitely stupid. But, we laugh. And thank goodness, our kids are following in our footsteps.
Look for the positive.
Sometimes, this is really hard. The birth of my son was one of the hardest days of my life. I could not see the positive when my baby boy, who I made inside of me, was born with a cleft lip, a misshapen nose, and a bluish tint because the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck. Even though the doctor said the facial deformity could be fixed cosmetically, all that registered to me was that there could be numerous other problems involving his heart, hearing, or brain. Tests would need to be run, and specialists consulted the next day. However, we didn't have to wait until the next day because Ellie dropped a plate. In a simple, clumsy act of a three year old, I saw the positive when Tate flinched at the sound of a plate crashing on the floor. After that, I knew that no matter what the doctors and tests said, everything was going to be just fine.
If you don't like something, fix it or get over it.
Negativity drags everyone down, and complaining incessantly doesn't help. If you're not willing to remedy the situation, then it's time to move on. If it's something that's very important to you, then you have to take action and make the change for the better. Either way, you will have improved your mental well-being (and the well-being of those who surround you as well).
Learn from your mistakes.
If I have come off sounding preachy, that wasn't my intention. It has been my intention to share with you those qualities that have shaped me over the past 39 years. I am not perfect. I will admit that I've been a cheater, but I've also been someone who's been lied to. I have risen to the challenge, but I've also failed miserably. I have let negativity consume me, but I've also been the unstoppable, believing, positive force. I have become so serious that I had forgotten to laugh. But along the way, I began recognizing what was good for me and what was not. I learned that mistakes are a part of life, and you can either ignore them or learn from them.
So what do I know for sure? I know I have a choice. I choose to challenge myself. I choose to fix it or forget it. I choose to play fair. I choose to be positive. I choose to laugh...a lot. And, I choose to learn a hell of a lot more over the next 39 years!
Saturday, October 20, 2012
The Birthday Party Fiasco
 | ||
| Birthday '80s Style |
Then again, maybe this was the first birthday party I ever attended, which wouldn't surprise me because when I was growing up, we started everything later than kids do now. In my hometown, T-ball didn't start until the summer after first grade, and kids were sent to a preschool if "problems" were detected during a Kindergarten Round-up screening (and yes, I went to preschool because I was identified with a hearing issue after not being able to hear the beeps during my screening - due to having pneumonia and an ear infection at the time).
Fast forward almost 30 years. My kids went to preschool - Ellie started at four and Tate at two. Soccer began for Ellie in the spring right after she turned five; Tate started basketball at the same age. Birthday invitations started rolling in for Ellie when she was four and for Tate when he was three. So I guess the following should come as no surprise:
- During Tate's two year old preschool assessment, when asked to identify shapes, he answered such difficult questions with, "Pink! You! Me! Two!" Although, he did know oval.
- The little girls on Ellie's 5 year old soccer team just wanted to chase butterflies and hang from the goals. "What's for snack?" was the most crucial soccer related question.
- Cartwheels and kung fu fighting were incorporated into the game of basketball last season. In addition, Tate went through a phase of falling down and rolling across the lane every time ran down the court on defense.
Tate is not normally my worrier, but apparently developed a fear of birthday parties as well, which brings me to last night. This was going to be the first time Tate, age almost seven, went to a birthday party that involved someone outside of our close circle of family and friends. This would be the party where he could play laser tag, video games, eat pizza and cupcakes, drink soda and belch, and run wild with a group of boys his own age. He even told me at 3:30 yesterday, "Mom, just stay for a little while, and then you can go." However, by 5:59, one minute till party-time, that turned into, "Mom, can you stay?" By 6:03 when we walked in and all his friends yelled, "Tate!" he hid behind his father and shoved his head up Pete's sweatshirt. At 6:04, Pete took him aside to talk to him while I explained to Birthday Mom that this is Tate's first big party, and she kindly reassured me that she's been through this as well. At 6:06, Tate ran to the entryway, crying. Ellie followed to let him know how she, too, used to feel this way, but birthday parties are so much fun! At 6:07, I relieved Ellie, but Tate fled the premises and ran outside into the cold, blustery evening, still clutching the Spider-Man gift bag and now blowing snot bubbles out of his nose with every sob. The nurturing side of me won out over the annoyed side of me, who knew if he gave it a chance, he'd have a blast. I was able to patiently listen to his fears between sobs, "But..sniff..Mom..sniff..what if I...sniff...get hurt?...sniff.....W-W-What....sniff...if I...I...sniff...slip and fall....sniff...in a puddle....sniff....of water..sniff..and hit....sniff....my head? All this coming from a child who normally has no regard for his physical well-being.
Finally, by 6:15, I was able to coax him back inside. He still didn't want to go, but I thought if I could get him to tour the joint, he'd be able to see how much fun he could have. Luckily, the other boys had proceeded to laser tag, so we were able to check out all the video games and warm up (both figuratively and literally, after being outside on a cold October evening) to the place. By the time the boys came out of laser tag, he still didn't want me to leave, but at least told Birthday Boy, "Happy Birthday" and said, "Thank you" when Birthday Dad handed out the gaming cards. At his request, I stayed with him and watched him play a few games, and while helping another boy retrieve an errant basketball from a game, Tate disappeared into the crowd of kids playing video games. At 6:35, I found Tate laughing and gaming with his best friend and let him know I was going to go have dinner with his dad and sister. At 8:05, we finally left with a sweaty, exhilarated boy baring Dracula teeth, who asked, "Can we come back tomorrow?"
After last night, I realized that it's okay if they are scared to go to parties. It's okay if they don't take sports seriously or aren't well-versed in naming shapes. I can't compare them to my era because it was a different era, and I was older when I first experienced these same things. For situations like these, I've determined that I need to apply the method we used to potty-train our kids: Be patient, understanding, and encouraging because no matter what, they will overcome their fears and achieve success when they're ready.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
The Sticky Note Reminder
I inadvertently made a huge mistake as a parent last night. I was quickly forgiven, but not before crocodile tears welled up in Ellie's eyes and spilled down her cheeks, and she mumbled, "Well, I just thought it was really important to you."
On a daily basis, the kids bring home work completed in school. Some of these items are big, important assignments - tests, quizzes, projects, or works of art, but others are simply collaborative assignments or assessments done in class. Typically, both Pete and I go over their work with them, praising their effort, correcting incorrect answers, and discussing their problem solving techniques. Usually, I ask them if there is anything they would like to keep or like me to keep and post on the fridge (it is covered in artwork and aced spelling tests), but the kids are good about letting us recycle most of the old assignments.
Two days ago, Ellie tossed a folded sticky note onto my lap, and said, "This is from my teacher." Upon opening it, I found a note from her reading teacher with Ellie's words read per minute score written down - it was a "Hot Read" score, meaning she had practiced it several times prior to this particular timing. Ellie was especially proud of her score because reading does not come easily to her, and apparently, it was 4th grade best. I promptly secured the sticky note to the fridge with a magnet and made the proper big deal out of the accomplishment.
Last night, as she was getting ready for bed, I went through her binder to double check she had completed all the necessary homework to be prepared for today, and I found another sticky note with a "Cold Read" score, showing the words read per minute reading a passage for the first time. Obviously, this score was lower, but again, it must have been one of the higher cold read scores for the year. I told her good job and then made a major blunder - I crumpled up the sticky note and threw it away. Cue tears, a sad little comment, "Well, I just thought it was really important to you, so I asked my teacher write it down so I could give it to you," and sick, crippling guilt felt by Mom.
What I didn't realize was just how important this was to her - and not just important to her because she was proud of the accomplishment - but it was important to her because she knew it was important to me. Understand my gut-wrenching guilt now?
By the time she went to bed, I knew I had been forgiven, but at breakfast, I knew my action had not been forgotten as I saw her eyes glance at the fridge to make sure there were TWO sticky notes stuck to the door.
My parenting faux pas was a good reminder that everyone, young and old, likes to feel important, appreciated, or like he or she is doing a good job. In a world that sometimes seems inundated with negativity, wouldn't it be refreshing to celebrate the positive, even the little things, instead of letting them slide right by? I challenge you to do just that; I plan to leave these sticky notes on my fridge as my reminder to do the same.
On a daily basis, the kids bring home work completed in school. Some of these items are big, important assignments - tests, quizzes, projects, or works of art, but others are simply collaborative assignments or assessments done in class. Typically, both Pete and I go over their work with them, praising their effort, correcting incorrect answers, and discussing their problem solving techniques. Usually, I ask them if there is anything they would like to keep or like me to keep and post on the fridge (it is covered in artwork and aced spelling tests), but the kids are good about letting us recycle most of the old assignments.
Two days ago, Ellie tossed a folded sticky note onto my lap, and said, "This is from my teacher." Upon opening it, I found a note from her reading teacher with Ellie's words read per minute score written down - it was a "Hot Read" score, meaning she had practiced it several times prior to this particular timing. Ellie was especially proud of her score because reading does not come easily to her, and apparently, it was 4th grade best. I promptly secured the sticky note to the fridge with a magnet and made the proper big deal out of the accomplishment.
Last night, as she was getting ready for bed, I went through her binder to double check she had completed all the necessary homework to be prepared for today, and I found another sticky note with a "Cold Read" score, showing the words read per minute reading a passage for the first time. Obviously, this score was lower, but again, it must have been one of the higher cold read scores for the year. I told her good job and then made a major blunder - I crumpled up the sticky note and threw it away. Cue tears, a sad little comment, "Well, I just thought it was really important to you, so I asked my teacher write it down so I could give it to you," and sick, crippling guilt felt by Mom.
What I didn't realize was just how important this was to her - and not just important to her because she was proud of the accomplishment - but it was important to her because she knew it was important to me. Understand my gut-wrenching guilt now?
 | |||||||||||||||||||
| THE sticky notes |
My parenting faux pas was a good reminder that everyone, young and old, likes to feel important, appreciated, or like he or she is doing a good job. In a world that sometimes seems inundated with negativity, wouldn't it be refreshing to celebrate the positive, even the little things, instead of letting them slide right by? I challenge you to do just that; I plan to leave these sticky notes on my fridge as my reminder to do the same.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
What Yoda and I Have in Common
When I went for a follow up appointment for my knee yesterday, the doctor asked if my family has been taking care of me. And I answered yes, because it is true - in their own, different ways - they have been a phenomenal support system.
My husband made sure I got my meds, ice packs, and meals over the first three days, and after that, he became a good listener when I got frustrated because I could not do everything I wanted to do. Ellie's specialties were getting things for me when I asked without complaining and just hanging out with me reading books and watching T.V. However, the most interesting care-taking has been from my son, Tate. This is good to know because someday when I am an old lady and need someone to take care of me, I will be knocking on his door, and hopefully he will be as enthusiastic to spend time with me in the future as he is now. "Yea! Mommy is here!" is something I am sure his wife will appreciate hearing. Although, if his current plans for his future remain unchanged, he'll still be living here: he'll have no wife because girls are gross, and he wants to live with us forever.
The first few days after my surgery were the most shocking. Tate tucked me in each night as I was often in bed before him. He begged me to use his head for a crutch since I was hobbling so much. He wanted so badly for me to put my hand, arm, or armpit (gross!) on his head so I would walk better. Of course, I refused to do this fearing I would damage his neck and spine. When we went on a hike last week to get me out of the house, he inadvertently attempted to steal an old man's walking stick for me to use. When he realized that it was already someone's possession, he looked for twigs and branches that would do. When none really did the trick, he held my hand and simply said, "I just want to walk slow with you Mommy, back here," since Ellie was charging ahead and Pete was trying to keep up with her.
I have been
trying to determine if he is going through a phase or if it is
just his own sweet way of dealing with a mommy who is so out of sorts. I guess it really doesn't matter. My family loves me, and they're here for me. I am glad I know how lucky I am.
My husband made sure I got my meds, ice packs, and meals over the first three days, and after that, he became a good listener when I got frustrated because I could not do everything I wanted to do. Ellie's specialties were getting things for me when I asked without complaining and just hanging out with me reading books and watching T.V. However, the most interesting care-taking has been from my son, Tate. This is good to know because someday when I am an old lady and need someone to take care of me, I will be knocking on his door, and hopefully he will be as enthusiastic to spend time with me in the future as he is now. "Yea! Mommy is here!" is something I am sure his wife will appreciate hearing. Although, if his current plans for his future remain unchanged, he'll still be living here: he'll have no wife because girls are gross, and he wants to live with us forever.
The first few days after my surgery were the most shocking. Tate tucked me in each night as I was often in bed before him. He begged me to use his head for a crutch since I was hobbling so much. He wanted so badly for me to put my hand, arm, or armpit (gross!) on his head so I would walk better. Of course, I refused to do this fearing I would damage his neck and spine. When we went on a hike last week to get me out of the house, he inadvertently attempted to steal an old man's walking stick for me to use. When he realized that it was already someone's possession, he looked for twigs and branches that would do. When none really did the trick, he held my hand and simply said, "I just want to walk slow with you Mommy, back here," since Ellie was charging ahead and Pete was trying to keep up with her.
| Really, this is me? |
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