Thursday, August 27, 2009


My little man.

I tend to not get too stuck in my past as a mom. I don't spend a lot of time thinking about my kids' as babies, except when I'm scrapbooking or blogging. I don't think back to their infancy, I don't mourn their growth. I get excited at each new milestone.

That would be why I was completely shocked the other day when it hit. I had picked up B's photo album. It's one she carries around and has us read to her like a picture book. It's a fabric covered photo book with little satin booties on the front. Inside, it holds her very first pictures. It tells of her beginning. It was laying on the couch where she had set it aside and I didn't really think much when I picked it up.

As I started looking through it, I got the strangest sensation. Almost as if I couldn't breathe. This ache. For something I couldn't even put my finger on.

Suddenly, I realized. I will never again see that baby face. That tiny little self. She is here now, six years old and on her way to fully grown. I let myself just wallow in it for a minute.

Then I had to think about the little man. And how quickly his own baby self has gone away. And took his toddler self with it.

In their place, I have these two active, funny, clever little children who fill our home with love, noise, and sometimes exhaustion (as I hear their creative play upstairs turn to shouts at this very minute).

I was telling my mom about this strange occurrence and she described to me how she sometimes gets that same ache, still. She knew exactly what I was talking about and could describe it perfectly. I am her baby. So I guess this may not be the last time I get this strange feeling. This oxygen stealing sappiness.

It also totally makes me see why people just keep on having babies. Having one to snuggle right now would sure help with that ache.

My gratitude for the growth and development of my kids is daily. We are blessed.

But there are moments. When the blur of the past six years comes into focus for a moment and I just have to sit. And breathe.


Mom wrote this as we were growing up, it just sums it all up so nicely. She's far more poetic than me...

They grow so
Tall, they
Get away,
And I just
Stand and
How can I ever
Have grown
So old in
So short a
If the clock
Will not slow
Itself, then
I must be
More selfish
With each
There must be
More time
For sharing
My children’s
I can never
Go back,
So then I shall
Savor more
Wholly, the
Growing forward.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Grade 1

Learn –verb (used with object)
1. to acquire knowledge of or skill in by study, instruction, or experience: to learn French; to learn to ski.
2. to become informed of or acquainted with; ascertain: to learn the truth.
3. to memorize: He learned the poem so he could recite it at the dinner.
4. to gain (a habit, mannerism, etc.) by experience, exposure to example, or the like; acquire: She learned patience from her father.


My B had her first day of first grade this week. Very exciting! She has a brand new teacher (new to the building, new to teaching).

She had to fill in the blanks on a first day of school project. Learn. What a great word! Her teacher told her how to spell it, the first of many experiences they will share this year.


Hubs and I discussed what the sketch represented (B was playing in her room at the time). My guess was a globe. Hubs said it was a brain. We called her down to find out. Her response, "Everyone thought is was the world, but it's a BRAIN!" Hubs: 1, Me: 0.

I envy my childrens' teachers a bit, the bonding that happens when you are helping someone expand their mind.

B, I can't wait for this year, for all that you are going to LEARN.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

I Really Want to Complain

The cyclical nature of my life is really starting to show right here on my blog.

I want to write a whiny August post about how tired I am and how hard my job is and how I just need to power through and I know I will feel better in a week or two.

Instead I went and read my August archives from the last couple of years and realize it's just part of the life I lead. Every year I feel this way, regardless of how much stress there is (this year there is extra, let me tell co-teachers, student teacher, new classroom, seven new students, new stitches in my finger from an unfortunate kitchen accident, new wrinkles on my face and a new zen perspective that keeps me from falling right over...) and it passes in a bit.

Right now life is a blur. We are all well and things are fine. It's just a little fuzzy from the dizzy rush that seems to be occurring.

All in all. . . life is good. September and October are my favorite months of the year. We are approaching a season change that makes me very happy.

I just need to get through the week. And next week.
And maybe even the next.

Then I can breathe.
Then I can see clearly.

For now. It's survival mode.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Hitting the Pavement

We've had some good fun with chalk here as our summer break comes to an end. Two highlights were the day we completed a solar system on the driveway, complete with two rockets for the kids to ride in (why is it that I can't seem to draw a rocket that doesn't look like a sea creature?). They had fun traveling from planet to planet, even visiting the sun. B and I took turns labeling everything and pointing out a few characteristics of the planets. It wasn't drawn to scale and we definitely didn't have it all in the right order, but it was tons of fun.

Another day, we drew a road system on the sidewalk and the kids decided to bring out some small toys to live in the squares we pretended were houses. Also good fun. I'd like to think this is how I always parent, present and tuned in, playing with my kids. I honestly tend to leave them to their own devices during playtime, but this was a lot of fun and reminded me of how I liked to play when I was little. We had a big chalkboard and more than once my brother and I laid it on the floor and drew a matchbox car town. He's an artist, which made for a fantastic city sketch. I enjoyed this with my own kids and it was also a great way to talk shapes with our little man. B had fun expanding on it, forever drawn into her own imagination. We had dinosaurs, a small goat, a digi-penguin, and care bears all sharing the same community. Quite the diverse population!

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There goes the neighborhood! The goat is rooming with a pet rock!