On The Occasion Of My 37th Birthday

 (That Purple Helmet is my 11 year old daughter... Not in my boat...Manning a paddle for the entire trip.  I think that was a first for her.)

Happy Birthday to me.  I'm pooped.

Broadway

Well, a taste of it, anyway.  Abby just did her first part in community theater.  She was part of the chorus, and she thought it was boring and a lot of long nights... Until:

Now she wants to go to acting camp this summer and audition for the fall play, and she wants me to audition, too.

Dear Teacher,

I have been thinking about the phone conversation we just had.  I wanted to send you an e-mail rather than call you back because, though I might sound like I am calm and collected, I'm not really.  So, as I sit here in tears of frustration, there are a few more things I want to discuss.

This is my baby we are talking about.  He is loud.  He is funny,  He is impulsive.  He is smart.  He is exactly as God intended for him to be.  I want for him to be able to function in public and society at large without disruption and without alienation, but I will not force him to change who he is.

As a co-educator with you, I feel that it is my job to help and support you in managing my child's behavior.  When he is disruptive or disrespectful of class time, you have my full support.  Sebastian and I are teaching our children respect for authority; respect for unformed officers, their parents and other adults, employees of an establishment, and most especially for you as their teachers.

You just told me that you can tell Jonah is trying hard to control his classroom behavior.  Perhaps you are not seeing the level of maturity and self control that you would like yet, but we both know that he is trying very hard.  For this reason, I have to object to Jonah getting a green slip for splashing in puddles on the playground today.  After sitting in class and trying very hard to control himself (with varying degrees of success), he must be allowed to go out and be a kid.  If he wasn't getting anyone else wet, and wasn't putting himself or anyone else in danger, then I really can't agree with him not being allowed to be a 7 year old boy.  Sure, he will be wet.  He will probably be uncomfortable.  Those are natural consequences.  He will probably decide on his own that splashing in puddles is not a good idea.  I might have to buy him new shoes, but that would be my problem, not the school's.

In short, if Jonah is showing that he is putting an effort into controlling himself inside of a formal learning situation, he MUST be allowed to let loose all of his stored energy outside the classroom.  I worry that he is being tagged as "the bad boy" in people's minds, and that is just not so.  He is a child full of life.  I would rather that any of my children live life to the fullest as God created them.

Gina 

[Delete]

I have started about 6 or seven blog posts lately.
Some of them were about the baby.
Some of them were about things we have been doing.
Some of them are about dealing with ugly.
All of them have been deleted.
For privacy reasons.
Because it seemed too mundane.
Because it felt whiny.

But I am still here.
Peeking into your lives.
Loving the extra small person who has thrown my schedule out of whack, and makes me late to everything.
Taking my children to play practice.  To Worship practice.  To AWANA and youth group.
And advocating for my youngest offspring like a mama bear ready to pounce.

That's all.

Dear Mother,

I'm sorry. I know you raised me better, but I don't make my kids bathe every night. I don't make them make their beds. I ask them if they brushed their teeth, but I don't actually check.

I know it is a shameful reflection on you, but I don't clean every day. I don't sweep under the fridge or vacuum the coils. I pulled the oven out the other day to get something. Then I put it back without even cleaning the sides.

Mom, I know you put a lot of hard work into teaching me to clean the toilets and tubs just so, but I rarely do it. I know I should, but there is so much else I want to do. I can sew a straight seam, I can make and preserve jam, I can bake fairly well. I just don't want to.

I can hear you in my head sometimes, "Make sure you have on clean panties. You never know when you will be in a wreck." I tell you to be quiet because i am pretty sure that if I were in a wreck, that would be the last thing on the doctor's mind. What kind of doctor does undie inspection anyway?

So, Mom, my kids are in bed at 11 pm. I am not positive that they brushed their teeth, and I am certain that most of them stink. some will take a shower tomorrow before church. Some will not. I am pretty sure Jesus loves them all the same.

Love,

Your too-busy-having-fun-to-worry-about-it youngest daughter.

Vestiges

I cleaned the bedroom today.
I had been threatening that I would.

Armed with garbage bags, a broom, and sheer will, I pushed open the door.
I scooped up scraps of paper, broken rubber bands, hair clips, and pencil toppers.

I sorted through the stuffed animals- eventually replacing all but a select few.

And then I opened that box. One of many boxes. I expected to throw it away- until I sifted through the contents.
It was an old heart shaped chocolate box from last year. In it were hearts that she had cut out of paper. The hearts had each of our names on them. "Mom" "Dad" "Jonah"... There was a card from her former Sunday school teacher. And down under it all was a cheap, run of the mill valentine. But, the name on it was important.

I smiled as I put it all back into the box. I slid the box into a bin in her closet for safe keeping.

She is almost 11. Soon, the little box will be all that is left of my baby girl.

Learning To Live

Life.

It is messy.

Complicated.

Hard.

And sometimes, I get weary of it.

Until I remember that it is shorter than I would like.

That in a minute it can be snuffed out.

That it is, indeed, precious.

Precious because of the people you love.

And the ones that love you back.

The ones who live their time not knowing how much they have left.

The ones who live it with Grace.

With Joy.

With Pain.

With the knowledge that when they leave here, they go to the Father.

I want to learn to live my life that way.