Oh sweet weekend, why do you have to be so fickle?
You tease me on Thursday night with the promise of hours and hours
and hours and hours.
I can sleep in. I can wake up early. We're running, jumping, playing.
I am free, unencumbered by the meetings,
classes and responsibilities of work and family life.
I have all weekend to:
work on kid's science project
fold laundry
grocery shop and cook meals
grade papers
But you're a jezebel, weekend. You promise, but you don't deliver.
Sunday night creeps into sight, a dark cloud of an impending storm blanketing
the earlier sunshiney landscape, with it a chill of inevitable change.
And then....the time is gone. Work week is on the horizon, Monday hammering
on the door.
So, I'm on to you, weekend. You can't pull this over on me again next week.
Next week, I'm gettin' fortified.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Pride
Today's word is Pride.
Not pride in the, "I'm so awesome," boastful kind of way, but rather, pride as in the "I did something that was overcoming an obstacle and I'm so proud I did it" way.
T2's been dancing the hula with a group for almost a year now. She's a natural. Man, I can't believe how she can move her hips. I am filled with pride every time I watch her dance. When she started, I would sit during the class and bring a book to read while it was going on, but I could never focus on my reading. I found myself mesmerized by the women in the group. The dance looked so fun, and the music was infectious.
In November, I started dancing with my daughter. I asked her first, if she thought it would be fun to have me in the group. That we could do the dances together, practicing in the evenings. She was thrilled by this concept. Better grab onto this now, I thought. She's going to be a teenager soon enough, and she would be mortified if I wanted to dance with her. Now or never. I thought, I've been watching for months; I can do this. No way, y'all. It's way harder than it looks. It took me a while to get the steps. The hands, hips, and feet all do different things. While I'm not very good at it, I have a great time doing it. It makes me feel so alive to move my body like that, a body whose image I've struggled with all my life. I'm not the dancer type, you see. Big and stocky, not long and lean like my daughter. But hula--hula I can do.
And today was the big test of my confidence. I danced with the group today for the first time in front of an audience. Once the music started, I hit my stride. I found myself beaming both inside and out. I was so proud of myself for going for something that I don't look perfect doing, but about which I feel very passionate.
In the first clip, T2's second from the right. In the second clip, I'm the tall, stocky one, next to the man in the back, and T2's the little girl on the right. I'm thinking that this experience, for however long it lasts until one of us loses interest (T2?), is making a life long memory for T2 and I to share.
I am proud.
Not pride in the, "I'm so awesome," boastful kind of way, but rather, pride as in the "I did something that was overcoming an obstacle and I'm so proud I did it" way.
T2's been dancing the hula with a group for almost a year now. She's a natural. Man, I can't believe how she can move her hips. I am filled with pride every time I watch her dance. When she started, I would sit during the class and bring a book to read while it was going on, but I could never focus on my reading. I found myself mesmerized by the women in the group. The dance looked so fun, and the music was infectious.
In November, I started dancing with my daughter. I asked her first, if she thought it would be fun to have me in the group. That we could do the dances together, practicing in the evenings. She was thrilled by this concept. Better grab onto this now, I thought. She's going to be a teenager soon enough, and she would be mortified if I wanted to dance with her. Now or never. I thought, I've been watching for months; I can do this. No way, y'all. It's way harder than it looks. It took me a while to get the steps. The hands, hips, and feet all do different things. While I'm not very good at it, I have a great time doing it. It makes me feel so alive to move my body like that, a body whose image I've struggled with all my life. I'm not the dancer type, you see. Big and stocky, not long and lean like my daughter. But hula--hula I can do.
And today was the big test of my confidence. I danced with the group today for the first time in front of an audience. Once the music started, I hit my stride. I found myself beaming both inside and out. I was so proud of myself for going for something that I don't look perfect doing, but about which I feel very passionate.
In the first clip, T2's second from the right. In the second clip, I'm the tall, stocky one, next to the man in the back, and T2's the little girl on the right. I'm thinking that this experience, for however long it lasts until one of us loses interest (T2?), is making a life long memory for T2 and I to share.
I am proud.
Friday, March 4, 2011
The Sorrow of Doglessness
Twelve years ago, I lost my beloved German Shepherd mix, Scruffy, at 16 years old.
I stayed dogless for for a little while. While I missed my sweet baby, I knew that getting another dog would be the cure for what ailed me. I'm a dog person through and through, and I didn't feel right not having a dog.
I started researching breeds and fell in love with the herders. Their quick brains and abilities were so intriguing to me, and I quickly became obsessed with getting one. I started looking at Australian Shepherd rescues and breeders. I knew I'd get an Aussie. I went to the local Humane Society to let them know that I was looking for an Australian Shepherd, and if they were to hear of any coming in, would they call me first. "We have one right now," they said, and before I knew it, I had my Aussie, a beautiful 3-year-old black tri that I named Jack.
We were inseparable. I trained him and took him on long hikes in Griffith Park. He needed extensive training and I was up for the challenge. I took him to a party 10 days after I got him; there I met DG, who was immediately smitten with Jack, I think, much more than he was with me. DG's love for Jack was part of what made me fall in love with him. You know, love me, love my dog.... I knew DG would be a good father.
One day, when I was pregnant, we took Jack for a herding instinct test. Put in a ring with Jack and a dozen sheep, it was truly a marvel to see him move them around, to do what he was bred to do. I got choked up, just like I do now watching T1 master a complicated karate kata, or T2 on stage at any dance performance. Jack was my first baby.
Things were pretty hard for Jack and me when the babies came home. Have you ever seen that scene in "Marley and Me" where Jennifer Aniston, playing a mother with a newborn and a toddler, is home all day and her husband comes home and the dog goes nuts, knocking over the toddler, and she screams, with escalating intensity, "just get rid of the dog, GET RID OF THE DOG!!"? We had a very similar beginning with Jack and the twins.
On the night we brought T2 home from the hospital, Jack jumped in the crib with all four feet, all 60 pounds of him, dangerously close to the 5 pound twin. It was more than I could manage; I was ready to call the Aussie rescue to find him a nice farm to run on forever. DG was not ready to give him up. We sent him doggie boot camp, and he came back a different dog, a dog that could be a part of our family, one that the babies could jump on and try to ride, and who would sleep outside their door while they were napping, and bark at any passing dogs, for fear they would try to get his "babies." I'd strap him to the double stroller and trudge through the neighborhood. One time, a driver stopped me and said, "Wow, if you can get out and walk with all that, what's my excuse?" For me, Jack was the original recipient of my mothering. He needed me just as much as I needed him.
Jack was almost 15 when we had to put him to sleep four weeks ago. The vet said, after Jack had had 6 seizures in 12 hours, that he probably had a brain tumor, and he was fading fast. I wasn't ready, although I knew it was coming. I held him on that table, cradling all the bigness of him, as if he were an infant I was holding in my lap. I thanked him for all he'd given me, how he changed my life.
So today's word is "sorrow."
I have days when I won't remember him, and I think that his memory will fade eventually, and this fills me with sadness. The sorrow that comes from coming home to the house with no dog will probably be with me for a while. Until the sorrow of doglessness passes.
I stayed dogless for for a little while. While I missed my sweet baby, I knew that getting another dog would be the cure for what ailed me. I'm a dog person through and through, and I didn't feel right not having a dog.
I started researching breeds and fell in love with the herders. Their quick brains and abilities were so intriguing to me, and I quickly became obsessed with getting one. I started looking at Australian Shepherd rescues and breeders. I knew I'd get an Aussie. I went to the local Humane Society to let them know that I was looking for an Australian Shepherd, and if they were to hear of any coming in, would they call me first. "We have one right now," they said, and before I knew it, I had my Aussie, a beautiful 3-year-old black tri that I named Jack.
We were inseparable. I trained him and took him on long hikes in Griffith Park. He needed extensive training and I was up for the challenge. I took him to a party 10 days after I got him; there I met DG, who was immediately smitten with Jack, I think, much more than he was with me. DG's love for Jack was part of what made me fall in love with him. You know, love me, love my dog.... I knew DG would be a good father.
One day, when I was pregnant, we took Jack for a herding instinct test. Put in a ring with Jack and a dozen sheep, it was truly a marvel to see him move them around, to do what he was bred to do. I got choked up, just like I do now watching T1 master a complicated karate kata, or T2 on stage at any dance performance. Jack was my first baby.
Things were pretty hard for Jack and me when the babies came home. Have you ever seen that scene in "Marley and Me" where Jennifer Aniston, playing a mother with a newborn and a toddler, is home all day and her husband comes home and the dog goes nuts, knocking over the toddler, and she screams, with escalating intensity, "just get rid of the dog, GET RID OF THE DOG!!"? We had a very similar beginning with Jack and the twins.
On the night we brought T2 home from the hospital, Jack jumped in the crib with all four feet, all 60 pounds of him, dangerously close to the 5 pound twin. It was more than I could manage; I was ready to call the Aussie rescue to find him a nice farm to run on forever. DG was not ready to give him up. We sent him doggie boot camp, and he came back a different dog, a dog that could be a part of our family, one that the babies could jump on and try to ride, and who would sleep outside their door while they were napping, and bark at any passing dogs, for fear they would try to get his "babies." I'd strap him to the double stroller and trudge through the neighborhood. One time, a driver stopped me and said, "Wow, if you can get out and walk with all that, what's my excuse?" For me, Jack was the original recipient of my mothering. He needed me just as much as I needed him.
Jack was almost 15 when we had to put him to sleep four weeks ago. The vet said, after Jack had had 6 seizures in 12 hours, that he probably had a brain tumor, and he was fading fast. I wasn't ready, although I knew it was coming. I held him on that table, cradling all the bigness of him, as if he were an infant I was holding in my lap. I thanked him for all he'd given me, how he changed my life.
So today's word is "sorrow."
I have days when I won't remember him, and I think that his memory will fade eventually, and this fills me with sadness. The sorrow that comes from coming home to the house with no dog will probably be with me for a while. Until the sorrow of doglessness passes.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Freedom from Myself
Today's word is Freedom:
I used to feel I was responsible for my own life.
It's how we're taught from a very young age.
"You're independent; do what you want to do."
If I work hard, I can have anything--do anything.
But what I want is not a solitary wish.
It does not exist in the realm of Me with no one else.
When I strive for a wish, dream, goal,
I must trounce over the others along the way. They're in the way.
But the path of my life does include others.
I have a special one who shares my life and to whom I am
responsible
I can't make some decisions about myself without thinking of the outcome--for him.
I have two little ones whose well beings depend on
choices I make for my life.
They're watching and learning how to be themselves
from my example.
When I'm so much in my head, reeling over how well I solved this problem
or how badly I did on that issue, I'm taking away from the others in my life.
The talk in my head over what I need to do to control the others around me
so that I can be calm, needs to be squelched.
In the context of belonging to others, I have freedom.
I let go of the control over everything, including them, and I can have peace.
Nothing I say or do can make the world exactly the way I want, to suit me.
Freedom from myself means a better me.
I used to feel I was responsible for my own life.
It's how we're taught from a very young age.
"You're independent; do what you want to do."
If I work hard, I can have anything--do anything.
But what I want is not a solitary wish.
It does not exist in the realm of Me with no one else.
When I strive for a wish, dream, goal,
I must trounce over the others along the way. They're in the way.
But the path of my life does include others.
I have a special one who shares my life and to whom I am
responsible
I can't make some decisions about myself without thinking of the outcome--for him.
I have two little ones whose well beings depend on
choices I make for my life.
They're watching and learning how to be themselves
from my example.
When I'm so much in my head, reeling over how well I solved this problem
or how badly I did on that issue, I'm taking away from the others in my life.
The talk in my head over what I need to do to control the others around me
so that I can be calm, needs to be squelched.
In the context of belonging to others, I have freedom.
I let go of the control over everything, including them, and I can have peace.
Nothing I say or do can make the world exactly the way I want, to suit me.
Freedom from myself means a better me.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Persuasion
Today's word is "persuasion."
I am often asking my children to change their minds about something, to convince them that their opinions (on say something like...what they want for dinner) are misguided and uninformed. I provide them with evidence to the contrary, proving beyond a doubt, that mother really does know best. Children need to be persuaded to:
-- brush their teeth effectively (or you'll get cavities).
-- clean up their rooms (that's how you earn screen time/allowance).
-- take a sweater (it's not cold now, but it might be later).
It's mother's prerogative to dispense with all kinds of wisdom given her wealth of experience in all things related to childhood. If children could be convinced to listen to mother, all would be right with the world.
--------------------------------------------
I've been thinking lately about the students I have in my classes. I should not have to give them reasons why it's important for them to do the work required for the class. Didn't they sign up for the class? Didn't they invest the fees and purchase the books? And while I muse about why I shouldn't have to do this, the fact remains that I am part cheerleader, convincing my students everyday about the value inherent in working for something. If you do the work, you'll be rewarded with pride in the outcome. If you slack off, your success is directly related to your effort.
I can only make my pitch, and then get out of the way of their actions. They're outcome is not a reflection of my effort; it's theirs. (This rings true for the children, too, by the way.)
---------------------------------------------
Sometimes, although not as much lately, I have to persuade myself to believe in myself. I am extremely self-deprecating. If you're even perused this blog a little bit, you can see that I have doubted myself at every turn. This is the year, however, that I turn that around and start acting with integrity, standing up for what I believe in and not second guessing myself. I'm thinking that I'm going to be hard to convince, but I'm hoping that I can give myself enough examples of how I'm doing the best I can do (see this, and this) and that what other moms, co-workers, friends, acquaintances are doing or feeling about me is none of my business. That ought to do it--my life, my way.
-----------------------------------------------
How do you use persuasion?
I am often asking my children to change their minds about something, to convince them that their opinions (on say something like...what they want for dinner) are misguided and uninformed. I provide them with evidence to the contrary, proving beyond a doubt, that mother really does know best. Children need to be persuaded to:
-- brush their teeth effectively (or you'll get cavities).
-- clean up their rooms (that's how you earn screen time/allowance).
-- take a sweater (it's not cold now, but it might be later).
It's mother's prerogative to dispense with all kinds of wisdom given her wealth of experience in all things related to childhood. If children could be convinced to listen to mother, all would be right with the world.
--------------------------------------------
I've been thinking lately about the students I have in my classes. I should not have to give them reasons why it's important for them to do the work required for the class. Didn't they sign up for the class? Didn't they invest the fees and purchase the books? And while I muse about why I shouldn't have to do this, the fact remains that I am part cheerleader, convincing my students everyday about the value inherent in working for something. If you do the work, you'll be rewarded with pride in the outcome. If you slack off, your success is directly related to your effort.
I can only make my pitch, and then get out of the way of their actions. They're outcome is not a reflection of my effort; it's theirs. (This rings true for the children, too, by the way.)
---------------------------------------------
Sometimes, although not as much lately, I have to persuade myself to believe in myself. I am extremely self-deprecating. If you're even perused this blog a little bit, you can see that I have doubted myself at every turn. This is the year, however, that I turn that around and start acting with integrity, standing up for what I believe in and not second guessing myself. I'm thinking that I'm going to be hard to convince, but I'm hoping that I can give myself enough examples of how I'm doing the best I can do (see this, and this) and that what other moms, co-workers, friends, acquaintances are doing or feeling about me is none of my business. That ought to do it--my life, my way.
-----------------------------------------------
How do you use persuasion?
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
In a word...31 days worth
So the theme at National Blog Posting Month for March is "In a Word." Words are the very essence of what I do--at work, when teaching, while engaging with my children, in communication with anyone. This March, I'm going to explore the presence of these words in my life and post about how they inspire, enrage, comfort, and perplex me.
I'm convinced that I can find a plethora of words to expound upon in the coming days, but I'm not at all under the illusion that I can cover the gamut of the diction related to raising children, working, or balancing a desire for individual fulfillment with the responsibilities of running a household and educating first-time college students. That's why I want to know what words spring to your mind that describe your day-to-day experience.
Is it HAPPY?
CHALLENGING?
BEFUDDLED?
PEACEFUL?
CHAOTIC?
INCORRIGIBLE?
I want to know--what's your word of the day?
I'm convinced that I can find a plethora of words to expound upon in the coming days, but I'm not at all under the illusion that I can cover the gamut of the diction related to raising children, working, or balancing a desire for individual fulfillment with the responsibilities of running a household and educating first-time college students. That's why I want to know what words spring to your mind that describe your day-to-day experience.
Is it HAPPY?
CHALLENGING?
BEFUDDLED?
PEACEFUL?
CHAOTIC?
INCORRIGIBLE?
I want to know--what's your word of the day?
Friday, February 4, 2011
Broadening the Focus
Soccer coach to T1:
"You played really well today; you just need to focus more."
Karate sensei to T1:
"Hey, pay attention! You've got to focus or you'll be doing push ups!"
Cub scout "robotics" club coordinator to T1:
"You're on the right track; you just need to focus."
Me to T1 every night when he goes to bed:
"You really worked hard today at soccer/karate/robotics. You finished more than you thought you would. You learned something new, and you tried more than you did last time. I am proud of you, and you should be proud of yourself."
I'm working on broadening the focus. It's not what he can't do and needs to do better, but what he is doing and progress he's making. It's about all of him. T1 is not defined by how well he can hone in on one thing and make it the center of his attention. He is a many faceted human being whose attention to detail is scientific, whose sense of humor is intoxicating, and whose physical movement is whimsical. I won't let him go to sleep thinking he is incapable of that one thing that appears so important to the grown up world but often eludes him. And while I know he can't always focus, I can help him get there with loving reminders about what he's doing right and how he's moving in the right direction. There's so much more to him, and I intend to make sure he knows it.
"You played really well today; you just need to focus more."
Karate sensei to T1:
"Hey, pay attention! You've got to focus or you'll be doing push ups!"
Cub scout "robotics" club coordinator to T1:
"You're on the right track; you just need to focus."
Me to T1 every night when he goes to bed:
"You really worked hard today at soccer/karate/robotics. You finished more than you thought you would. You learned something new, and you tried more than you did last time. I am proud of you, and you should be proud of yourself."
I'm working on broadening the focus. It's not what he can't do and needs to do better, but what he is doing and progress he's making. It's about all of him. T1 is not defined by how well he can hone in on one thing and make it the center of his attention. He is a many faceted human being whose attention to detail is scientific, whose sense of humor is intoxicating, and whose physical movement is whimsical. I won't let him go to sleep thinking he is incapable of that one thing that appears so important to the grown up world but often eludes him. And while I know he can't always focus, I can help him get there with loving reminders about what he's doing right and how he's moving in the right direction. There's so much more to him, and I intend to make sure he knows it.
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