Plans December 5, 2009

Once upon a time I had a plan.  Sort of.

When I was 23 it was to be a High School or Middle School Choir Teacher.  And then I got the job teaching elementary school General Music.  And I loved it.  It was amazingly rewarding to see kids who wouldn’t necessarily be inclined to make music discover that it was for them, too.  That it’s meant to be part of the human experience.

Then I fell in love with my best friend and got married.  This fit right in with my plan and I kept teaching music to the kids that I adored.  I could see myself teaching there until I retired.

Then I got pregnant.  As excited as I was, I was torn about whether to quit teaching.  I toyed with idea of being a working mom.  My husband and I both had mothers who stayed at home and felt that we’d benefited from it, but I still wasn’t sure.  Finally, a good friend of mine, who happened to be pregnant as well, said, “Nicole, you are the sort of person who throws herself completely into what she’s doing.  If you try to teach and raise your child, you will always feel guilty about neglecting the one you’re not with.”  Or something like that.  It’s been seven years and my memory’s not what it was.

So I’ve had seven wonderful years being the stay at home Mom.  My friend was right and I never regretted it.  Over the years, I’ve had offers to come teach music at different places but none ever seemed to fit my schedule.  I had a new plan.  When the boy was in school full time I’d go back.  I figured I’d substitute teach for a while, and then look for a part time position.

Then my friend (the same one) called and invited me to interview for the part time general music position at her school.  I couldn’t ignore this one.  It fits with my kids’ school schedules, I get to teach general music again, and I still get to have time with the boy in the afternoon.  My husband and family were unanimously excited for me.

So I went for it.  And I got the job.  I am both scared and excited.  It’s all I can think about.  I’ve even started having teacher dreams again; (Gratefully, not the kids-hate-me-and-throw-a-riot dream.  I hate that one.) trying to remember what I used to do.  It’s like a dormant part of my brain is waking up.

I told L today and she rushed over and gave me a hug.  “I’m so happy you got a job, Mama!”  I asked her why she was happy and she said, “Now you have something to do while I’m at school!”  Heh.  First graders are funny.

So anyway, here’s the moral of the story.  The most significant things in my life have never followed my plan.  Sometimes you just have to make the proverbial leap of faith and know that everything’s going to be ok.

(Remind me of this a couple months from now, please.) 

Well, clearly you can’t be 7. November 8, 2009

Because I’m not remotely old enough to have a 7 year old.  And you look like this in my head.

But you are 7.  And a big first grader.  It’s weird that you spend more time at school during the week than with me and J.  I know you are enjoying school as much as I am enjoying the break, but I still miss our impromptu trips to Georgetown.  And your funny way of telling stories.  I know you are only 7, not going off to college or anything, but you’ll have to forgive Mom for reminiscing about the days when you were my little sidekick.  I love you baby girl, you’re one of my very favorite people.

Happy Birthday L!

 

Way back in the days before technology… November 7, 2009

My husband told me this story, so I’m going to try and remember it correctly.

On Tuesday, while I was at Planina, L lined up all the cousins and her brother on the sofa and wanted to take their picture.  She couldn’t find the camera, but was undaunted.  She found her sketch pad and pen, readied herself to draw their picture and said, “No problem!  I’ll just do something that people did a looooooong time ago, way back in the days before technology…”

“You know, like 1982.”

When it rains… November 3, 2009

1)  you get to keep your drain.  Really bad rhyme.   I know.  Drain stays till Friday.  I’m back on Levaquin (which the doc stopped a while back to put me on Bactrim) because my infection is resistant to Bactrim now.   Yippee.  I get the overachiever bug.  Anyway, Levaquin is scary expensive, even with insurance (For instance, I’m lucky it *only* costs me $50.) with even scarier side effects (like your Achilles tendon detaching somehow…)  Anyway, I’ve just got to keep in mind I’ve taken more toxic things in my life, like chemo and some really bad stuffed green peppers I made long ago.  I still have 8 pills of Levaquin left from a previous prescription and I’m hoping I can take those (I think he only wanted me on it for 5), so cross your fingers for me that the goddess of cheapness smiles on me and I can use it.

2) Pray for a friend’s mother (who is also my friend) whose Mom is dying.  You are never too old to miss your mother.  Or your grandma.  Or your great-grandma.

3)  Pray for my sister and her husband, for his mother passed away unexpectedly last night.  Death is never easy, expected or otherwise.

4) Pray a bit for me, because tomorrow all their children will be at my house.  I can handle it and it will be fine.  But a little prayer never did anybody any harm.  

On the eve of her memorial. September 25, 2009

It’s 11:25 pm EST and I’m still wide awake due to the time difference, looking through old pictures on my Mom’s computer.  And I found it.  The picture I wanted to post when she died.

 

She was 17 years old, I think. 

While I was perusing I found this one of my Dad.  Shocking how much my son looks like him. 

Observations September 2, 2009

1.  It cracks me up that L can read, write, and correctly spell the word turkey.  But pronounces it churckee.

2.  J threw a fit on the way to the doctor yesterday.  “I don’t wanna go to the pwastic surgeons!  I want to go to the OTHER doctor!”  There are no toys at the plastic surgeon’s office, but there is a slide at the family doctor’s.

a)  I find it both humorous and sad that my 3 year old knows the words plastic surgeon, drain, surgery and other medical jargon he’s picked up over the last year.

3.  I am tired of surgery.  Strike that.  I’m tired of recovering from surgery.

4.  Despite all the sad things, the crappy things, and the annoying things I’ve dealt with this year, I still think I had a great summer.  I got to spend wonderful time with John’s family, my family and friends.  The kids got to do fun things and both kids are on their way to actually learning how to swim.  I got to perform in a few concerts.  My life is good.

5.  I just walked in on L reading to J.  Love it.

Be well, Grandma. August 12, 2009

We always think there is more time.

I should really know better.

Last night my grandma passed away.

When I was little, she lived with us.  The first of many relatives to reside in our basement.  I remember how soft her skin was.  (I used Oil of Olay religiously for years because that’s what she used.)  My room was in the basement too.  And rather than tell my parents I was scared to be down there, I would crawl into bed with my grandma, much like J does with us now.  (Though I was much more than 3.  That’s probably why I cut him a little slack.)

She sang.  And painted.  And sewed.  She made me a green paisley vest in junior high school and I wore it for years.

She took care of people.  Four children first, by herself since my grandpa died relatively young.  Then us.  Then her own parents.

She was the only other member of the family to have breast cancer, although she had hers around 70, I think.

Somewhere I have the picture I wanted to use today.  Taken when she was just 17, about the time she was married.  Sadly I can’t find it.

I’m sorry I didn’t call more, Grandma.  I love you.  I thought I had more time.

Most super awesome week ever – Part 2 July 23, 2009

Helping Mama.

So Tuesday morning rolls around and still we have no power.  We actually lucked out in terms of damage but there was (and is still) a lot of clean up to do.  Taking the children aside, we talked about how when things like this happen, we come together as a family to help make our yard right again.  Got the kids on board and we cleaned up the driveway.  In fact, it was pretty cute.  We have a neat gaggle of children on our block, ages 3ish to 11ish, and they were all at each others’ houses helping with the pick up.  So, when we were done with the driveway, I let the kids go play in the basement.

Here’s where my day starts to droop.

We have one of those ancient bouncy horses in our basement and apparently the kids decided to see if they could exceed the maximum load.  Of course the horse fell over and the kids bonked their heads, but they seemed ok to me, so I finished my conversation with a neighbor and about 15 to 20 minutes later I went to check on them.  Couldn’t find the girl.  I asked her friend where she was and he told me she had gone to bed.  Mama Spidey Sense is starting to tingle now, so I wake her up and she is still crying about how much her head hurts.

So let’s take a reality check here.

1.  Tired kid after hitting head.

2.  Mom on medication who can’t drive.

3.  No power.

After checking with my friend the PA in GA (heehee) who is quickly becoming my medical interpreter, the decision is made to go to the hospital.

Luckily the grandparents were home and one took the boy while the other took the girl and I to the hospital.  L barfs in Grandma’s car.  Mama Spidey Sense is now smashing me over the head with a frying pan.  And I get to hold a barfy towel for the rest of the trip.  We made it to the ER without further incident and took L inside to get checked out.  They got us right in but there was a really long wait for the CT.  (Cat spelled CT not CAT, L likes to tell people when she tells the story.)   The nurses and doctors had L retell the story of how she hit her head a bazillion times and I will say it’s very scary when your 6 year old who usually knows her birthday cold has to be prompted.  The first tellings of the story were very confused, probably sounding a lot like I did last year on chemo.  Much too freaky.

Towards the end, after the CT, she began to perk up and start speaking her little college professor English again.  The last time she told The Story, it started off like this, “Apparently, you’re not supposed to put 3 people on a bouncy horse…”  (Apparently, she has heard her mother use the word “apparently” a  few too many times…)   The other thing that made me laugh was her insistence that the room smelled like barf.  No YOU smell like barf darling.  Because you barfed.  She just couldn’t be convinced that was what it was.

We made it home and their daddy called to see how we were and whether I was still going to Planina.

Heck ya, I’m going to Planina.  Are you kidding?

Oh, and bring some McDonalds please.

Shouldn’t we be eating out of the…

MCDONALDS PLEASE

I had pie for dinner before rehearsal.  I’m such the picture of health.  Grins.

To Be Continued

Mother’s Day May 10, 2009

I am blessed to be the mother of two wonderfully sweet,  quirky children.

J made a picture for me.  It’s his first.  Grass, with a flower and a sun.

 

 

L made a little book at school.  Very sweet and very true.  The girl knows her Mama.

I especially get a kick out of all the mention of the Wii.    And that she thinks I’m 25.  Heh.

My babies rule.

I tried. I really did. May 5, 2009

Since the start of the year, I faithfully worked on it.  Tried very hard not to start anything new (except the pair of peekaboo mittens for a friend.) 

Then it was my sister’s birthday.  And I asked her what she wanted and she asked me to work on this.  (It’s actually her project, I’m just the knitter.  Heh.  And before you think I’m too crazy, I did refuse to weave in the ends.)

Size 6 needles. *sigh*

 

And then the boy asked, “Mommy, you make ME a fweater?”  (His sister has two.)  How can I say no to a kid who I’m quite sure will actually sleep in it when it’s done.  So I’m also doing this.

Except with a J. Wike in my name? he said.

Oh well.