Dear Summer,
These last 8 weeks have been challenging, rewarding, and highly educational. I have enjoyed them all however and would not like to retire my summer status. I've been able to get to know my children again, spend some time reading, going out to dinner with girlfriends, and sneaking in the occasional nap. I think I earned this break, given the stressful nature of the previous 10 months. I could really, really get used to working just at home. I could easily send my children off to school, work around here, get them off the bus, you get my drift. It is good to dream, which is what my Dear tells me, as well as my own brain.
The summer began with swim team, the day after Memorial Day. Afternoon practices ensued, meeting up at the pool with the moms, while silently fretting over dinner and how it might be possible to eat before midnight. Shortly after the school year concluded, practices transitioned to the morning, on a rotating start time for the oldest, but always the same for the Princess. While I liked that one age group was not stuck with the 7:30 practice time, it was hard to find a groove when the time changed weekly. Never mind the tiny nuances, my son really grew in his swimming technique, as well as the Princess. They both enjoyed swim team, earning their ribbons, playing at the pool after practice, and being part of such an awesome team. It was fantastic and I can't wait to do it again next summer.
The simplicity in only worrying if I would get stuck in traffic trying to get to the library was perfect. I knew that I could avoid it on Fridays, or by going early enough in the morning any other day of the week. I loved that I could read after breakfast for about an hour, or so depending on the book, until lunch demands were vocalized. Hey, I could read after that was done too ;0) I also kept up with the laundry, the mopping, the cleaning, and keeping hungry children out of the pantry. It was not such a tough life. Shhhh, don't tell Dear though, as he thinks I had it easy every single day of the summer. That wasn't quite true.
The cleats have been retired for my son. Tackle football was not his sport this fall, a decision that was not made without great discussion and consideration for his fellow teammates. Although Son is tall, solid as a wall of concrete, and would appear to be an excellent candidate for said sport, he was not playing it well. The coach voiced concerns over his tackling, or really lack there of, putting him in danger for being hurt. His fellow teammates never gave up on encouraging him though, which was a sign of an excellent league. The night he retired, Son went to practice and addressed the team, thanking them for their motivation and encouragement. He also thanked his coaches for their support, but gracefully retired for the season. I can't say I'm sad he retired but I was sad for him to loose out on the team building skills he could have learned. Although, given that he didn't like to get dirty, a fact he stated only after signing up and practicing for a month, I think he could have been the teams biggest cheerleader/bench warmer :0)
I am gathering speed toward getting my fanny in gear. I'm going to be case managing 12 students this year, which is double what it was last year. I have some anxiety about this, but I got to attend a two day institute for assistive technology, which helped exercise my brain and prepare me for what I need to know for this year. I'm going to have to become really good at working with augmentive communication devices, learning the programs, and how to use them for the student to express their ideas and opinions. I think I'll do okay. I know who to ask for support. It's really all good...that's what I keep telling myself at least.
Summer, it's been great and I am sad to retire from this season. Until next year, say around the 23 of June, we'll be put into active duty status. I wonder what the school year will be like? Will my children succeed in their assigned classrooms? With their teachers? Will their teachers survive them? I'll think about these questions and look forward to Summer 2016.
Sunday, August 30, 2015
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
Previously...
A trip down memory lane is necessary at times in life, I firmly believe. I moved from the west coast to the east coast the summer between my sophomore and junior year of high school. I forced my parents to agree to send me back to California if this whole east coast business didn't work out. I was not really such a happy camper to be leaving my friends. I mean, don't get me wrong, I was not exactly the most social butterfly, but I had worked hard to find my little group and I was happy. The east coast did not promise this same life. I was bitter.
After the arrival, a wee bit of a bumpy transition, riding the bus(!!!!) to my new high school, and getting used to everything else in life, I was in full throttle to achieve nerd status. I was tall, awkward, highly ungraceful, and was absent when athletic prowess was handed out. I was just a whirling dervish of clumsiness. Them, my mother, in all of her social networking, announced that she had found a carpool for me to join. Anything was better than riding the confounded bus, I can assure you. There was the driver and one other person in the car, which was a teeny tiny Nissan, two door. Since I was the newest in the carpool, I was relegated to the back seat, which was not always bad. It wasn't like I hoped the other passenger would be sick often ;0) We shared those last two years together, through thick and thin, with joy, arguments, my wacky mood swings, and multiple trips to 7-11 for Smartfood popcorn.
Fast forward just about 23 years, give or take, and on a fantastic Saturday night, we were reunited, along with two other strong, amazing women, who also went to high school with us. They were just way cooler and had their own vehicles for driving. I was late arriving, which is par for the course, but joined right in the cacophony of discussions and laughter. There were thirst quenching beverages, delicious food, and time that flew by! We talked about high school, reviewed the year books, noted grammatical errors that should never have been published, laughed about those who dared us not to post pictures on social networking sites, shared about our children, and decided that NoSo Sudan would not be an ideal place to vacation, but sharing time before one person departs to go there with Doctors Without Borders was fantastic. Time had not skipped a beat. There weren't awkward silences, competition, or claims of whose hair was better styled. It was amazing. I was glad that I didn't pull an all too familiar stunt and not attend. A wise person once told me that I should always make time for my girlfriends, come hell or high water, as they would be the ones there when the children were grown and husbands were grumpy. I am so pleased to know that I have done this, relative to me mind you, so that I can have a solid group of women I can call friends, even if it takes 20 years to see some of them.
I cannot promise it will be tomorrow that I will reconnect with these amazing women. Life marches on, as do airplanes and jobs. I am thankful for my girlfriends. Truly.
After the arrival, a wee bit of a bumpy transition, riding the bus(!!!!) to my new high school, and getting used to everything else in life, I was in full throttle to achieve nerd status. I was tall, awkward, highly ungraceful, and was absent when athletic prowess was handed out. I was just a whirling dervish of clumsiness. Them, my mother, in all of her social networking, announced that she had found a carpool for me to join. Anything was better than riding the confounded bus, I can assure you. There was the driver and one other person in the car, which was a teeny tiny Nissan, two door. Since I was the newest in the carpool, I was relegated to the back seat, which was not always bad. It wasn't like I hoped the other passenger would be sick often ;0) We shared those last two years together, through thick and thin, with joy, arguments, my wacky mood swings, and multiple trips to 7-11 for Smartfood popcorn.
Fast forward just about 23 years, give or take, and on a fantastic Saturday night, we were reunited, along with two other strong, amazing women, who also went to high school with us. They were just way cooler and had their own vehicles for driving. I was late arriving, which is par for the course, but joined right in the cacophony of discussions and laughter. There were thirst quenching beverages, delicious food, and time that flew by! We talked about high school, reviewed the year books, noted grammatical errors that should never have been published, laughed about those who dared us not to post pictures on social networking sites, shared about our children, and decided that NoSo Sudan would not be an ideal place to vacation, but sharing time before one person departs to go there with Doctors Without Borders was fantastic. Time had not skipped a beat. There weren't awkward silences, competition, or claims of whose hair was better styled. It was amazing. I was glad that I didn't pull an all too familiar stunt and not attend. A wise person once told me that I should always make time for my girlfriends, come hell or high water, as they would be the ones there when the children were grown and husbands were grumpy. I am so pleased to know that I have done this, relative to me mind you, so that I can have a solid group of women I can call friends, even if it takes 20 years to see some of them.
I cannot promise it will be tomorrow that I will reconnect with these amazing women. Life marches on, as do airplanes and jobs. I am thankful for my girlfriends. Truly.
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
Summer
There is a picture I just took, which I was going to post, but I'll have to work on my knowledge of posting pictures to my blog. Until then, just follow my story....
The first thing in the picture that you might notice is the mismatched flip flops that belong to my darling daughter. The zebra print flip flop was a wonderful treasure from a box of summer clothes that my aunt sent both children. Like any other pair of shoes, they were not liked at first, hated I. Fact. The whining was atrocious! Fine, i found myself saying, wear whatever bloody shoes you want! Slowly, they were worn more often. Then, after a few weeks, I noticed there was only one. Where is the other one, I demanded to know. A shrug, I don't know, and a skip out the door ended the conversation. If I was a responsible mom, I might have pursued her, chased her across the front yard, screaming for her to stop and go find her shoe. From past experiences, I knew I would lose that chase, so....I was irresponsible ;0). She had other choices. More time passed, with one flip flop living with the other shoes, alongside a singular croc. When I would get a wild hair up, I would attempt to ask where the others might be, but not really.
A sudden knock one afternoon startled me, as two of my daughter's friends were there holding the matching flip flop and croc! My joy was abounding; I had the matches, life was back to normal. I should have known better. I attempted to put away the shoes, but the zebra flip flop match was missing. How could that be??? I had just seen it. I'd been so careful not to lose it for all these weeks. *sigh*'I walked away, awaiting my child's return.
I might have asked her a few days later where the matching shoe was, so the reply should not have surprised me. Well, you see, mom, I wore one croc & one flip flop to ride my bike in the culdesac, but the zebra one was annoying me, so I took it off. I forgot it outside and it's just gone. But, hey, look, you found my other croc! Thanks, mom!! *sigh*
The other flip flop is red & black, but has become a match with the zebra flip flop. Why? Well, that would be because the other red one is missing, in the vast yard between our house & the neighbors. Don't worry,mom, I like these together.
The final pair of shoes are cleats, belonging to my son. He is in his first season of tackle football. He is not the most athletically inclined, working very hard in ever sport he's tried. It is all new to me; I'm much more at home on a pool deck, screaming during a meet. His cleats are always together, in an OCD kind of way. I love that. It makes life grand not to spend hours searching for a pair of shoes. His joy and overwhelming passion for his sports is endearing, making my heart want to burst. I'm proud of him for wearing his cleats every.single.day, and not losing one.
I love my opposite children, truly I do. I also need them to go back to school, where tennis shoes are required. My daughter can't lose one of those and my son will ave a break from his cleats. Until the first day arrives, if you find a red & black Reef flip flop, just drop it in my front step.....
The first thing in the picture that you might notice is the mismatched flip flops that belong to my darling daughter. The zebra print flip flop was a wonderful treasure from a box of summer clothes that my aunt sent both children. Like any other pair of shoes, they were not liked at first, hated I. Fact. The whining was atrocious! Fine, i found myself saying, wear whatever bloody shoes you want! Slowly, they were worn more often. Then, after a few weeks, I noticed there was only one. Where is the other one, I demanded to know. A shrug, I don't know, and a skip out the door ended the conversation. If I was a responsible mom, I might have pursued her, chased her across the front yard, screaming for her to stop and go find her shoe. From past experiences, I knew I would lose that chase, so....I was irresponsible ;0). She had other choices. More time passed, with one flip flop living with the other shoes, alongside a singular croc. When I would get a wild hair up, I would attempt to ask where the others might be, but not really.
A sudden knock one afternoon startled me, as two of my daughter's friends were there holding the matching flip flop and croc! My joy was abounding; I had the matches, life was back to normal. I should have known better. I attempted to put away the shoes, but the zebra flip flop match was missing. How could that be??? I had just seen it. I'd been so careful not to lose it for all these weeks. *sigh*'I walked away, awaiting my child's return.
I might have asked her a few days later where the matching shoe was, so the reply should not have surprised me. Well, you see, mom, I wore one croc & one flip flop to ride my bike in the culdesac, but the zebra one was annoying me, so I took it off. I forgot it outside and it's just gone. But, hey, look, you found my other croc! Thanks, mom!! *sigh*
The other flip flop is red & black, but has become a match with the zebra flip flop. Why? Well, that would be because the other red one is missing, in the vast yard between our house & the neighbors. Don't worry,mom, I like these together.
The final pair of shoes are cleats, belonging to my son. He is in his first season of tackle football. He is not the most athletically inclined, working very hard in ever sport he's tried. It is all new to me; I'm much more at home on a pool deck, screaming during a meet. His cleats are always together, in an OCD kind of way. I love that. It makes life grand not to spend hours searching for a pair of shoes. His joy and overwhelming passion for his sports is endearing, making my heart want to burst. I'm proud of him for wearing his cleats every.single.day, and not losing one.
I love my opposite children, truly I do. I also need them to go back to school, where tennis shoes are required. My daughter can't lose one of those and my son will ave a break from his cleats. Until the first day arrives, if you find a red & black Reef flip flop, just drop it in my front step.....
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