Chapters of Your Life

"Rock star" status...ready to perform.

When you are young, the world is an open book.  Well, maybe not open…you have to be the one to do the opening and write your own chapters.  When I graduated from high school, my book was blank.  No chapters, no beginning or end.  Or so I thought. 

If we really think and start to analyze our book, complete with chapters, it begins at birth.  My parents are the ones who could really live the early chapters of my life.  Although I do not remember the so called early chapters, I do know I had to wear braces on my legs.  My mom has said many times she had felt bad because while I was in my crib, she could hear the “click, click” of me kicking my legs.  Other chapters were me falling out of the shopping cart, head first and thankfully all bundled up and no harm done.  Or falling the down the stairs when I was little.  The best chapters growing up?  Spending time with the family.

What has me thinking of the chapters of my life is taking a trip to Chicago.  Chapter 18 of my book is when I began to work downtown.  As I got off the train and exited onto the street, it was like time had stood still.  My pace was as if I was 18 again, and I got right into step moving around the city.  I made many great friends while working downtown.  Unfortunately, I do not see these people anymore but there are many chapters of my life that I shared with them.  Chapter 18 through 26 to be exact.  They were there for my “rock star” years, along with the birth of my son, Shaun.  I was also there for chapters of their lives.  Weddings, births, and Monday night bowling.  All I have to say is, the bowling alley was never the same after our butts left.  Thank goodness for Facebook.  At least we are in contact this way.

As I wandered the streets of Chicago and eventually made it to Columbia College, it touched me to see all these young people continuing the chapters of their lives.  Such talent.  All the music that was played around the campus was by students of Columbia College.  Amazing.  I have to admit, I envy them.  I always wanted to sing, act, or teach, but my book took me on an entirely different route.

I am not happy with the current chapter in my book.  However, since I am the writer of my story I am the only one who can do the revisions.  When I was young, it was easy to do the revisions.  I revised where I had to, and then went on from there.  During these chapters, there was also no responsibility.  Since I am older, some part of me has stopped these revisions.  It appears I am pouring myself into other books.  Maybe I am scared to revise, or maybe I am too old to. No, you are never too old to revise so I will go with the scared revision.

I will continue on with my chapters since my book is not complete.  Maybe I can get over the scared feelings of making revisions.  Your revisions are only complete when you re-enter the earth or when your ashes are scattered. How are the chapters in your book?  Should you, too, make revisions?

Reading, writing, cursive, and colors

Since I couldn’t sleep last night, I started to replay a status I read from Purdue University regarding removing cursive writing from the curriculum.  There were various opinions regarding this.  Teaching cursive is not my area of expertise, and will gladly let my teacher peeps/teacher aides peeps teach this.  Now printing, on the other hand, I can teach.  When I first started my job, I had to relearn how to print.  It sounds funny, but it is true.  In order to teach the correct way to print, you yourself have to print correctly.  Now I am a master printer with the help of Lisa Kelly, the Kindergarten teacher, and Itchy’s Alphabet. When I started, Lisa also provided me with my own handwriting book.

The doing away with cursive writing isn’t what really caught my eye.  What caught my eye was a person complaining about what kids need to know before entering Kindergarten.  The person had said that she couldn’t believe kids needed to know numbers, colors, address and phone number, etc.  This person also said that this was the teacher’s job.  Okay, let’s stop right there.  This was where I got on my soapbox.

Teaching begins AT HOME FOLKS!  I remember when my son was getting ready for Kindergarten, I was worried he didn’t know enough!  I read to my son.  He colored and guess what?  He KNEW his colors when entering kindergarten.  He also knew how to count.  It is also very important to know address and phone number. Trust me, it is not because we want to call parents up and come over for dinner, but how about if your child is lost?  Better yet, if your child needs to call home from school.  I have tutored kids in 4^th grade and when you ask them what their phone number is they answer, “I don’t know.”  What??

For those of you who do not know what the first day of Kindergarten is like, I will tell you in one word:  CHAOS.  Not only is it stressful for the brand new Kindergartener, it is stressful for the parents. One form of chaos?  Lining up. This is no lie, we have to teach the new Kindergarteners how to stand in line.  That’s right, some have no clue about following the person in front of you.  Part of a math lesson deals with who is in front, who is behind, who is first, and who is last.  For some, this is a difficult concept.  Then of course there is the homework that gets graded and is wrong because some don’t know what first and last mean.  That is an entirely different story, but I will give you a clue.  Look at which direction the toes are pointed in the line.  Better yet, who would LEAD this line?  If the animal to the far right of the page can lead the line, HE IS FIRST IN LINE.  The first in line does not necessarily mean the one to the far left.  Many papers get marked wrong, but now I have given you a clue into Kindergarten math.  J

Now let’s get to colors.  I find it very sad when you ask the new kindergarten class to take out a red, blue, and yellow crayon and some have NO CLUE.  Come on parents, basic colors are pretty easy.  It is not like we say, “Ok, I want you to take out an alizarin crimson, cerulean, and citrine colored crayon.”  It is at this point you would expect a dumbfounded look.  Here is a though, think of how your child must feel not knowing colors.

Another thing.  How do you not know your numbers 1-10?  Or AT LEAST 1-5?  The child has had five birthdays by the time they get to Kindergarten and for them not to know these numbers….sad.

To sum this up, parents please work with your child.  Yes, teachers do know they have to teach your child; however, you should ALSO want to teach your child.  I have no regrets about how I helped my son.  Including going out of order when studying for a spelling test.  He would say to me, “But Mrs. Callaway doesn’t do it that way.”  I would say, “That is fine; however, you are going to learn these words from top to bottom, bottom to top, mixed up and jumbled.  Or when working on a spelling homework assignment, he would misspell a word and I would not tell him which word was wrong.  My mom thought that was mean.  My response, “There is NO REASON why he should misspell a word, especially since all he has to do is copy it from the other page.”  That may be mean or harsh, but there is no excuse for being lazy.

Help prepare your child for school.  The transition, for some, is hard enough without the added stress of something as simple as knowing colors.

Skin and Bones

You look great!  I hear that a lot, but sometimes the trouble isn’t on the outside, but the inside.  This trouble on the inside sometimes has a result of the problem on the outside.  Make sense?

I knew it was too good to be true.  Last weekend I had the BEST weekend in a long time.  I wasn’t “sick.”  People were over my house all weekend and I was “healed.”  No problems whatsoever.  Energy was flying around me and I took advantage of it because I knew my body would turn on me at some time.  This was the weekend for “the turn.”  Actually, I should say it started during the middle of the week. 

Autoimmune diseases….many of us have them.  We may “look normal” but for some, our bodies are tore up from the floor up.  For many, we are taking chemo drugs, like me, to keep things in control.  Here are just a few of my reactions:

·        stomach pain

·        nausea

·        dizziness

·        hair loss

·        lowered resistance to infection

·        mouth sores

I won’t go on, as these are reactions from ONE medication.  I am sure you get the picture.   Although last week my husband said that I looked like I had a bruise on my cheek.  Nope, just discoloration from the disease.  And wouldn’t you know it; one part of my discoloration is right under my nose.  I have a summer moustache without the hair.  Isn’t life great?

I am a people person.  I LOVE being around people and I hate the fact that I have to remove myself from a get together and have my husband escort me home because I am doubled over, with tears in my eyes. 

Do I sometimes want to give up?  You bet I do.  Do I want to not take my meds because I am sick and tired?  Another, you bet I do.    But I have shared before what happens when I remove the chemicals from my body….I can’t move.  I fall into things because the bottoms of my feet aren’t working.

People think I am nuts when I say my best form of therapy is working with the kids at school.  It really is because there is no time to think of you.  When I have my infamous Mickey Mouse hands, I just walk myself to the office and get an ice pack to cool them down.

I know this too shall pass; I just need to be patient.  I will just continue working through each day hour to hour, minute to minute, and sometimes second to second.

I have a new favorite song called Skin and Bones by David J. Koch.  Powerful song.  I have posted the clip from So You Think You Can Dance, showing how beautiful the pairing of dance is with the song.

After all, when it is all said and done, aren’t we all just Skin and Bones?

What is your name?

Parenthood.  Nothing quite like it.  You look at your baby, and in this case my baby boy, you look at him smiling at you as you are bouncing him up and down and say to him in the voice you use with a baby, “You are so cute!  And remember; don’t bring any sluts in this house!  Yes, that’s right!  No sluts.”  He continues to look at you with that toothless grin and laughs with you.  Whew, I think to myself, I got this thing covered.  He will surely remember this when he gets older.  Yes, people who are reading this, not quite what you expected me to say, right?

Flash forward to when the baby boy is now in third grade.  Even though my son was not in the game Survivor, he received “tree mail.”  My husband was the lucky one to find this “cute” little tree mail.  As he is looking at this he says to me, “You need to read this letter written to Shaun.”  I say to my husband, “Oh, how cute!  Shaun got a love letter.”  How bad could this be, right?  I mean he is only in third grade.  Well, as I look at this letter I believe smoke started coming out of my nose and ears.  Horns popped out of my head, fangs appeared in my mouth and I ROARED.  This innocent love letter, from another third grader, was requesting the presence of my son in bed and wanted to bare his children, among other things.  SLUT!!  Obviously she had not been here for my conversation with Shaun when I was bouncing him up and down, smiling, and telling him “No sluts in the house!”  I was livid.  I was ready to bring my bat to this little girl’s house and tell her a thing or two or twenty.  My husband ended up tying me in a chair to restrain me as he went to talk to the parents about what the little girl had written.  I think the girl’s dad had about as much smoke coming out of his head as I did.

Which brings me to the current year, as baby boy is now much older.  I love having the kids at the house.  Really, they are now young adults.  Apparently a good time was had by all the young adults.  But to my HORROR there was another woman in baby boy’s room.  As I fidgeted most of the day I was subliminally trying to get through the walls the following words, “Remember, don’t bring any sluts in the house!”  I don’t think it worked.

My husband looked at me, also in horror, when I told him the dog was in Shaun’s room so I just opened the door and let her out.  “What?  You didn’t knock?  That was rude” My response, “What?  I didn’t request the presence of another woman in the house, and the dog had to go out!”  It’s not like I burst through the door and hacked up a lung to let them know I was coming in either. 

When the happy pool goers finally awoke, I did get to meet her…well kind of.  I introduced myself, “Hi, I am Shaun’s mom.” Her response, “Hi, I am a slut.”  Okay, okay, she didn’t say that.  To tell you the truth, I didn’t hear what she said her name was.  I felt like I was in a movie, like Father of the Bride, where he tells the kids to fasten their condoms when they get in the car.  I had to ask Shaun what her name was when he came home, since I didn’t hear it correctly the first time.  I am sure she felt mortified too having to meet Shaun’s parents in a driveway.

I know males out there high five each other about girls…unless of course it is their own daughter.  Yes, that story changes real quick.  But you know us mothers feel this way about our baby boys.  Nobody could possibly be good enough.  One day I know he will have a serious girlfriend…but UNTIL that time I will continue to slam open his door whenever I like.  That’s how this mom rolls! J

Motherly Instinct

Mother:  something or someone that gives rise to or exercises protecting care over something else; origin or source.

Instinct:  a natural or innate impulse, inclination, or tendency.

I believe a majority of people were on edge today waiting to hear about a verdict.  Did this mother kill her own child?  Verdict?  Not guilty.  A loud “WHAT?????” could be heard through all of Facebook land.

When you are a mother that “motherly instinct” kicks in.  You hurt if your child hurts.  You want to make everything better.

When I had Shaun, I never thought I had any type of instinct.  If he would cry as a baby, I would cry with him saying, “I don’t know what you want!  I fed you, changed you, burped you!  I just don’t know!”  What a sight, two bawling babies looking at each other.  The only difference was I was a 24-year old baby.  I had no clue what to do for this screaming child, and it was frustrating.

Have I been frustrated over the years with various scenarios in Shaun’s life?  You bet.  One of the most trying times was when Shaun was in 5^th and 6^th grade.  Shaun was one of the short boys, which really got to him.  It didn’t matter that he was on the basketball team, quick, in karate, all he saw was how short he was.  He would cry about it.  I found journal entries about it.  The heart wrenching part of this was when he came to me and said that he wanted an operation to make him taller.  Apparently, through research, Shaun found a type of operation where they break bones, put metal in you and stretch you.  He was adamant about this.  He didn’t care about repercussions; he just wanted to be taller.  It is tough to see your child hurt.  Needless to say, there was NO OPERATION.  After all my talk about “once you get to middle school, you will see all shapes and sizes” this finally happened.  Shaun was no longer the shortest of the bunch.

How I wished I could have “protected my young” with the death of his childhood best friend.  Another example of wanting to take this pain away, but I couldn’t.  Shaun did get through it, but it hasn’t been until recently that he has shared things.  Shaun has said, “I was done with high school after my sophomore year.”  When I thought about this, I realized the “doneness” of high school was after his best friend Brandon passed away, followed by his grandfather, followed by another classmate.  All within a month.  Again, motherly instinct kicked in and you want to take away that pain, but you can’t.  All you can do is just be there and listen.

All parents have at one time or another been frustrated with their children.  We wouldn’t be HUMAN!  We also need time to ourselves just for our own sanity.  But in the end, we want our children with us. 

When Shaun was going to Purdue, the day before we took him I was sobbing my eyes out.  I was sobbing so hard it took my breath away.  Anytime he goes anywhere, it is like he is going across the country.  And when he returns, I have balloons and a band to welcome him home even when he just goes to Chicago.  Okay, no balloons or a band, but neighbors can attest that I walk quickly home to see him and hear how his trip was.  I am getting so good at the translation of “grunts.”

As I heard the “not guilty” verdict today, it got me thinking of motherly instinct.  Yesterday was the 4^th of July.  Fireworks were going off and one got a little too close to my neighbor and her child.  Her motherly instinct was there, as she grabbed her child to protect her from any type of debris.  I believe she didn’t have to even ask herself, “What should I do?”  She just reacted……motherly instinct…..protecting her young.

So as I sit here and think about this monster of a mom they are letting go, she will get hers. To all of us wonderful moms, and dads who act as a mom, that have our motherly instinct 24/7, kudos to us.  May we all stay strong and continue protecting the ones we love.