That term has taken on a whole new meaning since having children. I used to think it only applied to love lost. Now it feels like every time I turn around my is breaking sometimes just a crack and sometimes into a million tiny pieces.
My oldest son, who just turned 8, will run his first 5K today. He is so nervous - he'd be more nervous running it with me I can tell you that! He would have to be concerned with carrying his mother across the finish line. But to see him break down as they left, he came back to bury his head in my chest and cry, has left me feeling so empty. Crack, Crack, Crack.
He's also nervous about our summer trip and came down at 10:30 last Saturday night to tell us he had a bad dream. He dreamt that he had to get on the plane by himself, then the world ended while he was on the plane, and well- sum it up to say it went on. Shatter!
There is nothing more I want to do than to lean down, scoop him up, and tell him nothing bad will ever happen to him. If I could wrap him in my arms and protect him forever, would that be long enough? People warn you, that it just gets harder. Rocking away colic, kissing skinned knees, mediating temper tantrums (well that really hasn't stopped yet) seems like so long ago.
I know that he will be fine. At least I hope, and wish, and pray as I sit here typing.
Dear God, please watch over my baby today. Help him get through the nerves and the race without fighting with his dad. Let him be light as air and not be weighed down because he didn't poop this morning. Let him be agile like the gazelle and not trip and fall because his shoes are never tied properly. Let him be fortified with your spirit because he didn't eat the special oatmeal I made at 10:00 last night and there is still a bowl of apples on the table. Oh for goodness sake just let him cross the finish line!
See - this is why his mom stays home!
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Right O Govner!
We have started a pattern lately, that Dad walks in after I've read to the children and said prayers -to lay down with them. Well, it started as going in to lay down with them, then it was to say Greek prayers, then it was Greek prayers and five Greek words, and it has now morphed into a Greek words wrestling match giggle fest.
So much for getting to bed on time.
Tonight was no exception - we are reading book two in a series I highly recommend - The Incorrigibles: The Children of Ashton Place. (If your library has it, listen on CD, it is excellently read)
Since we listened to Book one, and it was read in a very proper British accent, I of course, have to read the book in my best Midwestern proper British accent. Thank God no one but the children are listening. However, I digress.
After reading a chapter and saying prayers with the children my husband walks in and my oldest son who has been laying very quietly the entire time I was reading announces - I think I have three boys. Of course there are three boys I say counting my husband, and two sons. No I have three BOYS, my son says.
We call their balls - their boys.
"Ah, Well", I said in my Best Midwestern proper British accent as I back out of the door, "This one is for you Ole Chap! RightO, I'll be going now - you can check for extra boys Gov'ner! Cherrio!"
So much for getting to bed on time.
Tonight was no exception - we are reading book two in a series I highly recommend - The Incorrigibles: The Children of Ashton Place. (If your library has it, listen on CD, it is excellently read)
Since we listened to Book one, and it was read in a very proper British accent, I of course, have to read the book in my best Midwestern proper British accent. Thank God no one but the children are listening. However, I digress.
After reading a chapter and saying prayers with the children my husband walks in and my oldest son who has been laying very quietly the entire time I was reading announces - I think I have three boys. Of course there are three boys I say counting my husband, and two sons. No I have three BOYS, my son says.
We call their balls - their boys.
"Ah, Well", I said in my Best Midwestern proper British accent as I back out of the door, "This one is for you Ole Chap! RightO, I'll be going now - you can check for extra boys Gov'ner! Cherrio!"
Monday, May 16, 2011
Do as I say, not as I do.....
Why do we take a dip in the gene pool, only to get mad when the result is mini-me? My husband and I were married eight years before we had children. Once when a long time family friend asked me what we were waiting for I commented, "The government won't allow us to reproduce." It became my husband's response for the next seven years.
Here we are eight years and two boys later. Both boys are a combination of both of us, but unfortunately my husband and I are a lot alike. So what did I expect? I expect them to not act like me. Really?!
At least I am not alone. I've talked with other people who have an anxiety disorder and they've said the same thing - "Please don't let them be like me!" We know it's insane, but yet hope that somehow we'll have children who are calm, cool, and collected.
I know that I have good qualities, I used to tell potential employers. But living with an anxiety disorder all my life has been like being on an emotional roller coaster. One minute life feels great and the next it feels like a total loss. I remember feeling like this as young as five. Somehow I was hoping that it wasn't genetic - or that at the least-I could fix it.
I can't fix it, I can't even fix myself. Anxiety is something I struggle with everyday on some level. Seeing my oldest son struggling right now is killing me. This is not what I wanted when I took a leap of faith straight into the gene pool, but it isn't totally unexpected. So I guess it's time to learn to swim - together.
Here we are eight years and two boys later. Both boys are a combination of both of us, but unfortunately my husband and I are a lot alike. So what did I expect? I expect them to not act like me. Really?!
At least I am not alone. I've talked with other people who have an anxiety disorder and they've said the same thing - "Please don't let them be like me!" We know it's insane, but yet hope that somehow we'll have children who are calm, cool, and collected.
I know that I have good qualities, I used to tell potential employers. But living with an anxiety disorder all my life has been like being on an emotional roller coaster. One minute life feels great and the next it feels like a total loss. I remember feeling like this as young as five. Somehow I was hoping that it wasn't genetic - or that at the least-I could fix it.
I can't fix it, I can't even fix myself. Anxiety is something I struggle with everyday on some level. Seeing my oldest son struggling right now is killing me. This is not what I wanted when I took a leap of faith straight into the gene pool, but it isn't totally unexpected. So I guess it's time to learn to swim - together.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Mother's Day
Happy Mother's Day
When I was younger Mother's Day meant a celebration of all that is glorious, because I went to a Catholic School named after the Virgin Mary. We celebrated Spring and rebirth and flowers and Mom! Mother's Day was construction paper cards with glitter, glue, dollies, and ribbon and a poem copied off the blackboard.
As a teenager, Mother's Day meant trying my hand at the magnificent Sunday morning breakfast my mother was famous for, but not without some help. It meant taking a trip to the Hallmark store with Grandma to find the perfect card.
In early adulthood it meant taking time out of the selfishness that filled my days, to spend a little time doing whatever Mom wanted to do, even it it was cleaning up the basement, planting flowers, or getting out the deck furniture.
Now that I am a Mom, I have a whole new respect for those that came before me, for they are the reason I am here. My Mother, Grandmothers, Great grandmothers, the stories are too many to mention, but yet essential to who I am.
They were immigrants, and pioneers, and workers, and trail blazers. They raised families in whatever circumstances they were given. They gave everything they could, asked for very little, and prayed that their children grow strong and happy.
They were immigrants, and pioneers, and workers, and trail blazers. They raised families in whatever circumstances they were given. They gave everything they could, asked for very little, and prayed that their children grow strong and happy.
I am a mother. I can bring life into the world and have an uncontrollable urge to protect it. I am a fighter and a nurturer. I am a worker and a queen. I am a survivor. I am mad as a hatter one minute and as organized as the ant before winter the next. I can sing a lullaby and scream like a banshee. I am a mother.
On this Mother's Day I smile over the handmade cards and slightly crooked potted plants. I tear up when tackled with hugs, kisses, and compliments. And I give up a silent prayer of thanks, to those who made this possible.
On this Mother's Day I smile over the handmade cards and slightly crooked potted plants. I tear up when tackled with hugs, kisses, and compliments. And I give up a silent prayer of thanks, to those who made this possible.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Teacher Appreciation Week
As Teacher Appreciation week approaches I thought I would share some funny stories about my husband. When I first met him, though he was very proficient in English, there were still a few times that we had communication issue. I hope you enjoy. And I not only want to hear stories from all my teacher friends, but I would like to say Thank you for all you do to shape minds and mentor young people - especially those struggling with English!
When my husband and I started dating I never took into consideration that English was his second language because he was very fluent. There just weren't too many times that he would ask me to explain or ask what something meant. He did say some really funny things, for example; instead of "Fine-see if I care!" he would say - "Fine- Look if I care!", and instead of "This is the best lasagna I've ever had!" he would say- "This is the best lasagna I never have!". He still shuffles the snow from the driveway and shovels a deck of playing cards. He uses expressions like, "You in the right truck" (you're on the right track) and "It's taking a long time for you to get off the pot" (poop or get off the pot). He preheats the aven (oven), eats pitches (peaches), and loves Lance Am'strong (Armstrong).
Right after we graduated from college, he got a job teaching at The Little Gym and brought home a binder filled with songs he had to "learn". Well I took one look and started to laugh, these were songs any one of us would have heard or sang a thousand times in childhood, however it never dawned on me that they don't sing Pop goes the Weasel in Greece. So we spent the better part of a night singing and when we got to the ABC's he said, "Why you sing it?" I don't know, but I still sing it when I need to put things in alphabetical order. "You mean I suppose to say the alphabet in order?" They taught him English without ever teaching him the alphabet!
I must not have done a good job of teaching him the songs because in the first parents class he taught he asked everyone to help him sing the Itchy Bitchy Spider. He started singing and everyone just stared at him, he just kept singing, thinking maybe no one knew it. When he got all done one of the mother's kindly went over to ask him what he was singing- to which he replied, "the itchy bitchy spider?" She explained that the song was the Itsy Bitsy Spider. He's never gotten that one wrong again!
Once while helping him prepare for a job interview I was asking him questions about salary. (Which by the way he pronounces - celery, and the vegetable, you guessed it - salary) After practising a few times we ran through a mock interview and half way through I asked the question, "What kind of a salary are you looking for?" to which he passionately replied, "I just want to be constipated for what I do!"
But the very best story was the night we were sitting in my apartment, we had dinner, watched a romantic movie,and we were just sitting quietly when he looked over at me and said, "You are unforgivable."
I think he figured out pretty quickly that he had the wrong word as I stood up, burst into tears, and started shrieking, "What did I ever do to you?!" To which he stood up and shrieked, "What did I say? What did I say?" We went at each other like this for about 20 minutes.
Those of you that know us well can not only picture this, but you are probably changing underwear right now as you have peed your pants laughing. We acquired the nicknames, Lucy and Ricky, and we earned every bit of it....
I finally realized he was asking me what he had just said because he truly didn't know. Just like calm after the storm, I suddenly got very still and said, do you mean unforgettable? Is that good-he said. Yes, I replied. "YES! That is what I mean you unforgettable!!"
Thank you my dear friends: Julie, Linda, Betsy, Sue, Katie, Carolyn, Angela, Cathy, Mary, Vicky, Molly, Terri, Jodie, Beth, Cindy, Marie, Toni, and many many more ;-)
When my husband and I started dating I never took into consideration that English was his second language because he was very fluent. There just weren't too many times that he would ask me to explain or ask what something meant. He did say some really funny things, for example; instead of "Fine-see if I care!" he would say - "Fine- Look if I care!", and instead of "This is the best lasagna I've ever had!" he would say- "This is the best lasagna I never have!". He still shuffles the snow from the driveway and shovels a deck of playing cards. He uses expressions like, "You in the right truck" (you're on the right track) and "It's taking a long time for you to get off the pot" (poop or get off the pot). He preheats the aven (oven), eats pitches (peaches), and loves Lance Am'strong (Armstrong).
Right after we graduated from college, he got a job teaching at The Little Gym and brought home a binder filled with songs he had to "learn". Well I took one look and started to laugh, these were songs any one of us would have heard or sang a thousand times in childhood, however it never dawned on me that they don't sing Pop goes the Weasel in Greece. So we spent the better part of a night singing and when we got to the ABC's he said, "Why you sing it?" I don't know, but I still sing it when I need to put things in alphabetical order. "You mean I suppose to say the alphabet in order?" They taught him English without ever teaching him the alphabet!
I must not have done a good job of teaching him the songs because in the first parents class he taught he asked everyone to help him sing the Itchy Bitchy Spider. He started singing and everyone just stared at him, he just kept singing, thinking maybe no one knew it. When he got all done one of the mother's kindly went over to ask him what he was singing- to which he replied, "the itchy bitchy spider?" She explained that the song was the Itsy Bitsy Spider. He's never gotten that one wrong again!
Once while helping him prepare for a job interview I was asking him questions about salary. (Which by the way he pronounces - celery, and the vegetable, you guessed it - salary) After practising a few times we ran through a mock interview and half way through I asked the question, "What kind of a salary are you looking for?" to which he passionately replied, "I just want to be constipated for what I do!"
But the very best story was the night we were sitting in my apartment, we had dinner, watched a romantic movie,and we were just sitting quietly when he looked over at me and said, "You are unforgivable."
I think he figured out pretty quickly that he had the wrong word as I stood up, burst into tears, and started shrieking, "What did I ever do to you?!" To which he stood up and shrieked, "What did I say? What did I say?" We went at each other like this for about 20 minutes.
Those of you that know us well can not only picture this, but you are probably changing underwear right now as you have peed your pants laughing. We acquired the nicknames, Lucy and Ricky, and we earned every bit of it....
I finally realized he was asking me what he had just said because he truly didn't know. Just like calm after the storm, I suddenly got very still and said, do you mean unforgettable? Is that good-he said. Yes, I replied. "YES! That is what I mean you unforgettable!!"
Thank you my dear friends: Julie, Linda, Betsy, Sue, Katie, Carolyn, Angela, Cathy, Mary, Vicky, Molly, Terri, Jodie, Beth, Cindy, Marie, Toni, and many many more ;-)
Monday, April 25, 2011
A message about "The Trip"
Most people I know think of traveling abroad in the most romantic sense. Air travel, taxi's, hotels, beaches, ancient ruins, museums, and fabulous dinners at cozy restaurants with lots of ambiance. When I tell people that we are going to Greece this summer they swoon imagining Mamma Mia or Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.
Wouldn't that be amazing?! Where do I sign up?
My trip - think My Big Fat Greek Wedding - on Vacation.
My husband is not from America and ALL of his family is overseas. Some of you will visit Pittsburgh, or Boston, Cleveland, or Atlanta this summer to see relatives. Flying, driving, packing, planning, and sleeping on an air mattress are all involved at some point.
Now, I am no mathematical expert, but I think there is a definitely an equation that looks something like...
# of kids + hours of travel = ^stress level
So imagine if you will, being on one airplane with your children, for 9 hours then deplaning to board yet another aircraft for 4 more hours. Are we there yet??
I will not complain, OK that's a lie, because I don't like to fly so I complain a lot. To certain people. And while I don't want you to think that everywhere in Greece looks like the pictures of Santorini, if only! Or that I am not dog tired after the plane ride and jet lagged for 6 days after we return. That not being fluent in the language isn't annoying, frustrating, and sometimes scary. Or that it's always easy to fly so far away from my box......
# of kids + hours of travel = ^stress level
So when you see me and say, "I heard your going to Greece this summer!" and I just nod and smile like the Joker from Batman, it's not because I am not excited to see my relatives and spend time being fed, and pinched, complimented, and showered with unconditional love. Reading a book, or five. Sitting on a white sandy beach for a day or three looking at water so blue it can't possibly be real. Eating souvlaka at midnight on the roof overlooking the city with the mountain's behind me. Praying in churches older than the country I was born in.
I am only human. I am frightened. I am stressed. I am preparing, and planning, and postulating the trip, so that I may truly enjoy the journey.
It is something I think everyone should do - at least once. So pick a place you've always wanted to go, maybe it is Santorini (I hear it's beautiful!) save your quarters if you have to (airfare is outrageous) and GO!
Wouldn't that be amazing?! Where do I sign up?
My trip - think My Big Fat Greek Wedding - on Vacation.
My husband is not from America and ALL of his family is overseas. Some of you will visit Pittsburgh, or Boston, Cleveland, or Atlanta this summer to see relatives. Flying, driving, packing, planning, and sleeping on an air mattress are all involved at some point.
Now, I am no mathematical expert, but I think there is a definitely an equation that looks something like...
# of kids + hours of travel = ^stress level
So imagine if you will, being on one airplane with your children, for 9 hours then deplaning to board yet another aircraft for 4 more hours. Are we there yet??
I will not complain, OK that's a lie, because I don't like to fly so I complain a lot. To certain people. And while I don't want you to think that everywhere in Greece looks like the pictures of Santorini, if only! Or that I am not dog tired after the plane ride and jet lagged for 6 days after we return. That not being fluent in the language isn't annoying, frustrating, and sometimes scary. Or that it's always easy to fly so far away from my box......
# of kids + hours of travel = ^stress level
So when you see me and say, "I heard your going to Greece this summer!" and I just nod and smile like the Joker from Batman, it's not because I am not excited to see my relatives and spend time being fed, and pinched, complimented, and showered with unconditional love. Reading a book, or five. Sitting on a white sandy beach for a day or three looking at water so blue it can't possibly be real. Eating souvlaka at midnight on the roof overlooking the city with the mountain's behind me. Praying in churches older than the country I was born in.
I am only human. I am frightened. I am stressed. I am preparing, and planning, and postulating the trip, so that I may truly enjoy the journey.
It is something I think everyone should do - at least once. So pick a place you've always wanted to go, maybe it is Santorini (I hear it's beautiful!) save your quarters if you have to (airfare is outrageous) and GO!
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