Life Lessons...

I don’t remember what started it. I think it was when Jessica, my oldest, came home from kindergarten crying. I wasn’t expecting the cliques, clubs and cruelty to start so soon, yet, there I was, listening to my 6 year old explain that she couldn’t play on the slide that day because her name didn’t start with an “M”. I listened to her patiently. I held her tightly. I asked her how she felt, what she did, and what she was going to do tomorrow. We talked about strategies and options. We guessed about why those little girls might have acted that way; “Maybe their mommy’s haven’t taught them how to be nice to everyone”, I offered. “Maybe they’re just mean”, she replied. When Jessica was calm, and all was temporarily well, it happened; “remember how this feels honey, and don’t ever make anyone else feel that way”; it was the first of many life lessons.

I don’t know if I was trying to find the good in the bad, or just filling the silence and hurt with something more positive, but it caught on. When we moved to a new town the summer before Jessica’s second grade, we had hopes for a new start with a new group of classmates. But the life lessons continued. “Maybe those girls have all been friends for a long time, and just don’t know how to meet new kids”. Followed closely with, “remember how this feels and be sure to sit by the next new student at lunch, and smile at her in the hall”. We shared lessons about the lunchroom, recess, parties, ballgames, clothes, sleepovers, attitudes, and friendships.

When Jack started kindergarten a few years later, I listened as Jessica told him about school “…be nice to everyone because it feels bad when kids are mean”. I was so proud of her! All my kiddos have been privy to listening to my views of what’s important in life. When no one wanted to race Max at recess, we talked about how fun it is to win…for the winner, not necessarily for the loser. I questioned him as to whether he would want to keep racing someone if he lost every single time. Max quit begging kids to race him, and even tripped a time or two and lost. “I wanted my friends to feel good mom.” Now, I don’t advocate losing on purpose, or not trying your best, but his action was about the other boy’s feelings, and self-esteem. You can’t argue with that motive!

I will admit that there have been down-sides to my lesson sharing. Sometimes the kids felt like I didn’t support them “You always stick up for the other kid”, they would say, “Can’t you just listen without adding in a lesson. Can’t you just be mad?” I had to explain that it wasn’t about taking sides, it was about growing and learning and looking at situations from different perspectives. Believe it or not, our world isn’t always about us – it’s about all the people with whom we come in contact, it’s about all the things we think and hear and say; it’s about who we are when making tough decisions, it’s about what we do in the face of pressure; and we have to be prepared. My sharing of life lessons is one way of preparing my kids for taking their place in the world. And, I think it’s turned out pretty well.

I’ll admit that I do get upset about events that affect my children. I don’t like when kids are mean and feelings get hurt. I know that oftentimes things are unfair and kids get targeted. I get mad about coaches decisions, rude comments, and mean girls. I dwell on hurtful words uttered in haste, tearful cries of inequality, and unnecessary hateful glares. I understand that teachers sometimes pick on students and classmates cheat and kids lie, but I choose not to share those feelings with my children. I save my complaints and vent to my husband in the privacy of our bedroom. I believe that negativity breeds negativity, and I don’t want to be part of that. I want my kids to hear the proactive side of frustration. I listen to them, love them and accept them. And share life lessons with them…what more could they ask for?

A Moment of Choice

So, my fourteen year old son, Jack, comes home from school in a playful mood. He tosses his dirty just-ran-five-miles socks at me, keeps ‘accidentally’ bumping into me in the kitchen, shoots water toward me while rinsing his milk glass, and overall exudes a very happy, “let’s play” attitude. He hugs me and refuses to let go, laughing as he pulls me around, trying to make me fall. I know what he wants; he wants me to wrestle around with him, he wants me to pin him down and tickle him, he wants me to be the playful mamma I usually am.

But, today I’m in a “this house is a mess” mood. I’m in a “you were supposed to put your clothes away last night, but didn’t” mood. I’m in a “let’s all pitch in and get this place cleaned up" kind of mood. I know what I want; I want to dust, I want to organize, I want to clean. Needless to say, things weren’t going so great for either of us.

I’ll admit it; I’m a slightly anal, somewhat organized, like-things-in-order type of person. Throw in a type-A personality, a little OCD, and some move-it-over-just-a-tad and you’re got a decent picture of me. Don’t get me wrong, I know how to have fun, I can be spontaneous, I like adventure and action, but I just like to be prepared for it. I was prepared to clean.

I had a choice to make. THIS choice stemmed from another choice that happened years ago. I was in the “work” mode preparing dinner for three little kids, unpacking groceries, picking up toys, putting out fires…and my husband (who usually helps) was sitting, watching our 6 month old play. “I enjoy her so much!” he says. “Enjoy her?” I say out loud, “to me she’s a lot of work”. “You have to enjoy her” he says again,” So, I sat and watched my baby play. She made the cutest faces, she made the sweetest sounds, and she was so innocent. She didn’t care if her dinner was late. She didn’t care if she had a bath, she didn’t care if there were toys all over the room. And, for a few moments, neither did I. Of course, with two other little ones, that sit-and-watch time was short, but it was meaningful. The message was clear; enjoy your children while you have the chance. Don’t miss those moments.

So, while Jack was walking down the hall with an armful of towels, I “accidentally” tripped him, then pinned him down and tickled him. He tried to squirm away, but I grabbed his ankle and pulled him back for a second attack. Madeline joined in and we shared a great moment of surprise, fun, and innocence. One day these kids won’t want to play with me. They won’t want for me to hug them, kiss them and tickle them till they pee. They’re getting strong enough that I may not physically be able to keep them down for much longer anyway. Kids love to play and for some reason, parents forget or choose not to do it with them.

The house still got cleaned…thirty minutes later.

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We're All "...Like That"

You might not believe this, but I’m a talker. I talk a lot, to a lot of people. Last weekend, I struck up a conversation with a woman sitting next to me at a sporting event; and I’m still thinking about that conversation. She was a nurse. When I told her that I was a speech language pathologist, she commented “Oh, I could never work with ‘kids like that’”. What? “Kids like that”? What did she mean? I think she meant it as a compliment to me, but I must have looked at her funny, because she got up to use the bathroom and didn’t come back. I’ve been thinking about what I wish I would have said to her.

I wish I would have said in an honest, non-judgmental, teaching kind of way, that “kids like that” are just regular kids. They have mothers and fathers who love them. They eat the same kinds of food as their peers. “Kid’s like that” play, cry, smile, laugh, sleep, and love. They learn to roll over, crawl, cruise and walk, as they are able. They learn to communicate their wants and needs and play and interact with those around them. “Kids like that” might learn to do these skills differently than other kids, but they’re just as meaningful.

I think the woman meant to say that she was uncomfortable with people who are different than she is; people who require special needs. But isn’t that every single person? Isn’t each of us different from each other, and require our own set of special needs? I have a child who has a disorder that requires me to make different food for him…I also have a perfectly healthy child who is such a picky eater that I’m often making a PB&J sandwich for him at suppertime. What’s the difference? Don’t we all come from somewhat dysfunctional families with skeletons in our closets? We’re all “…like that”.

“Kids like that” might walk, talk, look or act differently than we do, but so what? Sometimes I walk, talk, look, and act differently than the people surrounding me. Maybe “kids like that” are really intended to teach the rest of us about respect and acceptance. I don't know anyone who has a physical difference that sits and judges others the way that they are judged! Everyone is different. Everyone has special needs. Everyone is worthy of love, acceptance and a fulfilling life. If we can remember that there is a person behind all those differences, and focus on getting to know that person, we might meet someone we like. And, if we aren't able to see that person, then maybe we don't deserve that friendship anyway.

It's simple; everybody needs to be loved for exactly who they are. Let's spread the love.

Margaret

Enough is Enough is Enough..

Will there ever come a time when “enough” is all I crave? I find that I am always looking, searching, striving, believing, expecting, and desiring more. I want a bigger house, more money, new shoes, and a trip to NYC. I need more time, more counter space, more financial security, and more sleep. I want to learn to play piano, speak Spanish, tend a garden, and pole vault. I’m always looking for more. I want to be content with what I have, but for some reason, I keep striving for more.

I already have a lot to be thankful for. I have a happy, healthy family, a good job, a reliable car, food on the table, a funny husband (but don’t tell him I said that), girlfriends, and great memories. People call me on my birthday, I have friends to eat lunch with, and I always find a smiling, welcoming face in the crowd at ballgames. I get to take little trips, am organized, enjoy other people, can afford to go to the movies, and live in a nice house. I have everything I need and most of the things I want. Yet, I still find opportunities to complain and I’m absolutely inadequate at expressing my thankfulness for what I have.

I know what I have, but I don’t think I really appreciate it. I want to learn to balance what is important for me, to know what matters. I want to learn perspective. I want to continue to grow and to become a stronger, more reliable person, but not with things or with pressures. I just want to “be”, and be content with that.

My goal is to become the kind of person who is perfectly happy with who I am and where I am in life. I want to find joy in whatever I’m doing and with whomever I’m spending time. I want to speak kindly and patiently with others. I want to smile more and grumble less. I want to matter, but especially want others to know that they matter. I want my children to remember a happy, humble, gentle mother. I want my friends to feel appreciated, to know they are important to me. I will make time to touch base with the people in my life. I will mend any broken fences. I will write and send thank you cards, not just think about doing it. I will pray more for other people instead of for myself. I will enjoy what I’m doing when I’m doing it. I will roll with what life throws at me. I will focus on what I need. I will find balance in my life.

These are my goals, I know it will take time to achieve them all, but I’m starting now!

Margaret

Full of Greatness

Football season is upon us, and although I’m not the biggest fan, I do love a good game. My husband, on the other hand, is a die-hard football guy. He has attended KSU football games every year for the past 30 years; I have attended a handful. Even though our love and knowledge of the game vary, we easily agree that Bill Snyder is a great football coach. He’s great because he created success based on the strengths of his team. He didn’t focus on being a great coach; he focused on coaching his team into playing great football. It wasn’t about Bill Snyder, it was about the game.

I believe all of us are great at something. Like Bill, it can't be about us, it has to be about what we're doing...

Some of us are great parents. We are able to accept our children “as is”. We love them and nurture them and celebrate them for exactly who they are and for what they love to do, period. We don’t worry that our child isn’t fast enough, or smart enough, or exciting enough; we simply love and support who our child is and we’re fascinated to learn who they will become.

Some of us are great teachers. We are able to reach our students, not through our teaching style, but through their learning styles. We know that our classrooms are full of all different kinds of kids and families and experiences and attitudes and values. We teach to them, we don’t judge them. We appreciate our students and we want the best for all of them, equally.

Some of us are great artists. We draw and create, not what we see, but what we feel. We are true to ourselves and trust our instincts.

Some of us are great listeners. We know the difference between what is said and what is meant. We understand that hearing is not the same as listening.

Some of us are great musicians. We don’t just play the notes, we live the music.

Some of us are great therapists. We are able to build people up from wherever they are, moving forward a little at a time. We help people find themselves, find their confidence, and find their strengths. We believe, even celebrate, their success.

Some of us are great speakers. We are successful at motivating others to step out of their comfort zones and into life. We understand the importance of setting goals and reaching for stars.

Some of us are great students. We know that behavior, attitude, and work-ethic are learned. We are students of everything, constantly studying to better ourselves.

Some of us are great spouses, friends, workers, leaders, organizers, creators, builders, believers…etc. We all are full of greatness. We just have to move out of the way and let it shine through.

Margaret

Back To School Blues

OK, I'm not trying to depress anyone here, just calling it like it is...

Well, here I sit on the last day of my kid’s summer vacation. It’s a day I don’t adore; a day I don’t look forward to, a day I wish would never come. It signifies that another year of adventure and growth has come and gone and a new one is about to start. Not that I don’t look forward to new adventure and growth, I do, I’m just never ready for my kids to “grow up” to that next grade level.

Think about it, kids grow up at the end of summers. They go from old 4th graders to new 5th graders. From Jr. High kids to high-school students, from their bedrooms to their college dorm rooms; it all happens at the end of August. This year is no different and I’m not ready.

When I look at my kid’s pictures, I notice that they aren’t frozen moments taken in early January, with the start of a new calendar year; they are taken in early September with the start of a new school year. I notice the differences in their face shapes and sideways grins and wonder how I missed those subtleties that must have occurred right in front of me. Although I’m excited for my children – new friends, new rules, new academic challenges; I’m sad, just a little, for myself. I think back on the events of the last year and realize that I don’t really remember all that much. I make a mental note to take more pictures, say “yes” more often, give hugs and kisses generously (I think I do this pretty well), and pay attention to everything that happens in the next crazy year.

I really should be prepared for this day; each year, there are tell-tale signs that the end of August is nearing. Back-to-School supply areas begin popping up in stores. Kids become anxious about whether they’ll get a top or bottom locker (most like top, by the way). They compare who has what teacher and start requesting specific notebook themes and colors. They may ask questions about whether they should try out for clubs and sports, or hope out-loud that certain kids are in their classes. They may worry that their clothes aren’t cute enough, their hair isn’t long enough, or their jeans aren’t tight enough. They may decide they are ready to wear make-up or request an Oakley backpack. They may let you know that they will be taking their lunch in a brown paper bag – no more lunch-box, or that they will be buying their lunch this year. They may want to carry a purse, or request to take their i-touch on the bus. They may want you to drive them to school so they don’t have to take the bus at all. Your kids might want to stay up later at night, now that they are in an older grade. They might feel the need to have their own yahoo account or their own car. The list could go on and on…children continue to grow and mature and you continue to wonder how they got there so fast.

So as I sit here on the last day of my kids’ summer vacation, I relish the fact that I am still needed. I have shoes to buy, backpacks to locate and schedules to plan. Before I get started on those tasks, however, I am putting a new memory stick in my camera, so I’m prepared for all those changes my kids are about to make.