I now understand how to know when you are officially old. When I was younger, I would watch the Oscars retrospective of all the great celebrities that had died that year. I wouldn't know any of them. Well, maybe one or two who lost their lives too soon, too young.
Now it seems I know them all. It's so sad. Some of them are people I really admired, some who made me laugh (Harvey!), some who made me cry, and some who made me swoon. I don't know why I thought they'd live forever. Life has a funny way of making you face your own mortality.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Friday, June 06, 2008
Saying goodbye
Parenting is a difficult business. I am often filled with doubt, confusion, guilt, and frustration over the job that *I* feel I am doing as a parent. I often feel that my kids are wonderful depsite the mother they have and can't figure out how that's happening. But then every once in a while, you get small glimmers that maybe you aren't doing such a bad job afterall. Every now and then, someone comes along at just the right moment and let's you know that you are on the right track. Every so often you can take a step back and look at the big picture and know that everything will be okay.
Yesterday was one of those moments. It was the last day of school for the kids.
Each year this has been an emotional process for me. I've loved the teachers and therapists for that year, and there has ALWAYS been a goodbye. In 2006, it was William leaving the school where he attended kindergarten for a new district. In 2007, it was the transferring of a much beloved teacher to another district. She was instrumental in getting us where we are with William receiving help in the schools and I am still so very appreciative of that. She'll never fully understand what she's done for us.
This year, the kids are saying goodbye to their school to transfer to a new district next year. This time was even harder than the last. William formed an AMAZING bond with his teacher. And so did I. Evie's teacher was the sweetest ever. We had all formed attachments to the people in that building, even those that didn't ever work directly with the kids. We were just "known" there...by everyone it seemed. It was sad to say goodbye.
But saying goodbye gave me those moments I was talking about. In the process of making the rounds yesterday afternoon, I heard so many amazing comments about my kids, my family. From everyone. I heard things like: "This school needs more kids like yours," "This school needs more parents like you," "Evie was absolutely the light of that classroom," "I have never seen a child sweeter than William," "You're kids are amazing. You just don't see kids like them much anymore," "He was the bright spot in a otherwise horrible year," "(New school) is so lucky to be getting those kids," "You must be doing something right, because these two are just absolutely wonderful." And it went on from there. Non-stop for over half an hour. The sincerity in these comments was overwhelming. I didn't hear the teachers talking to any one else this way. I received more hugs on that school yard yesterday than I've gotten in years. My kids got hugs so heartfelt that the adults almost didn't want to let go. I saw tears in the eyes of these adults. Over my kids. It was amazing to witness.
And through it all, I've realized, that in that moment it didn't matter how I felt about my parenting on the inside. The guilt, the doubt, the confusion. Those two amazing, bright, wonderful, happy, smart, loving kids made the whole school believe that they have a good mom that helped them become that way. I know that my kids are amazing, sweet, wonderful human beings, but I still doubt how much of a role I've played in that. I guess every so often it's okay to take a step back, look at your materpieces before you, and take a little bit of credit for at least making the effort. I've got great material with which to work.
Yesterday was one of those moments. It was the last day of school for the kids.
Each year this has been an emotional process for me. I've loved the teachers and therapists for that year, and there has ALWAYS been a goodbye. In 2006, it was William leaving the school where he attended kindergarten for a new district. In 2007, it was the transferring of a much beloved teacher to another district. She was instrumental in getting us where we are with William receiving help in the schools and I am still so very appreciative of that. She'll never fully understand what she's done for us.
This year, the kids are saying goodbye to their school to transfer to a new district next year. This time was even harder than the last. William formed an AMAZING bond with his teacher. And so did I. Evie's teacher was the sweetest ever. We had all formed attachments to the people in that building, even those that didn't ever work directly with the kids. We were just "known" there...by everyone it seemed. It was sad to say goodbye.
But saying goodbye gave me those moments I was talking about. In the process of making the rounds yesterday afternoon, I heard so many amazing comments about my kids, my family. From everyone. I heard things like: "This school needs more kids like yours," "This school needs more parents like you," "Evie was absolutely the light of that classroom," "I have never seen a child sweeter than William," "You're kids are amazing. You just don't see kids like them much anymore," "He was the bright spot in a otherwise horrible year," "(New school) is so lucky to be getting those kids," "You must be doing something right, because these two are just absolutely wonderful." And it went on from there. Non-stop for over half an hour. The sincerity in these comments was overwhelming. I didn't hear the teachers talking to any one else this way. I received more hugs on that school yard yesterday than I've gotten in years. My kids got hugs so heartfelt that the adults almost didn't want to let go. I saw tears in the eyes of these adults. Over my kids. It was amazing to witness.
And through it all, I've realized, that in that moment it didn't matter how I felt about my parenting on the inside. The guilt, the doubt, the confusion. Those two amazing, bright, wonderful, happy, smart, loving kids made the whole school believe that they have a good mom that helped them become that way. I know that my kids are amazing, sweet, wonderful human beings, but I still doubt how much of a role I've played in that. I guess every so often it's okay to take a step back, look at your materpieces before you, and take a little bit of credit for at least making the effort. I've got great material with which to work.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
WTH?
I've said it before and I'll say it again...I'm a worrier. No matter how much I am able to rationalize with one part of my brain, the other parts just don't follow along and listen, and so I worry.
Did I really need one more thing to worry about...
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/24982210/
Yes, the odds are SLIM, but I don't think I will ever have my kids near water again without thinking about this. 'Cause that's how I roll. :)
Did I really need one more thing to worry about...
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/24982210/
Yes, the odds are SLIM, but I don't think I will ever have my kids near water again without thinking about this. 'Cause that's how I roll. :)
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Class of 2008
Actually, she's class of 2020?!?!?!?!
Evie has graduated. From Kindergarten. I feel like this is the last "little kid" thing that she will do. She's always seemed old for her age. 5 going on 15. But now I feel like it's official. She's a big kid. A first grader.
She's already had her first day of school, learned to read, lost her first tooth, had her first crush.
She confidently struts into a building on her own. She no longer needs me there to walk her in, to hold her hand, to show her the way. She's always been fiercely independent, but now I find myself able to ALLOW her to be. I no longer have to say, "I know you can do it yourself, but I'm going to help you out this time." Because truth is, now she CAN do it...whatever "it" is. And I sit back, filled with pride at the young lady she's becoming, filled with sadness at how quickly her childhood is passing.
But at the end of the night, no matter how grown-up her day, she still wants Mommy to tuck her in, to snuggle with her for "just a few more minutes," to kiss her boo boos, and scare away the dark. I guess she's not so grown up yet afterall.
Monday, June 02, 2008
Autism: The Musical
In March of 2008, HBO premiered this documentary, mainly about 5 autistic kids, their parents, and their director, as they wrote and rehearsed an original musical for the Miracle Project.
It was released on DVD in May so of course, to the top of the Netflix queue it went.
If you like documentaries, this is a great one. Even if I couldn't relate to the subject matter at all, this is a great one. They highlight 5 of the musicals participants...a wonderful way of showing just how broad of a spectrum the Autism Spectrum actually can be. These kids all exhibit different "symptoms" of the disorder. Neal is non-verbal but very smart, Henry is overly-obsessed with dinosaurs and reptiles and often retreats to be alone in crowds, Lexi's echolalia is profound and she is becoming interested in boys, Adam is always on the go and wanders off frequently, Wyatt is highly verbal and hates being in a special education classroom but fears the bullies of being mainstreamed.
You get to meet the parents, too, and see how Autism affects them. Lexi's parents are right in the middle of a divorce, Neal's parents are already divorced, Adam's father had an affair for 16 months after his diagnosis, Henry's dad (you'll recognize him) sees how he may be on the spectrum himself, and Wyatt's parents seek legal help in finding a school to fit his needs.
Check it out. I haven't given away too much, and you certainly can't get the deep emotional aspects from what I've written here. It's not a bad way to spend 90 minutes of your day.
It was released on DVD in May so of course, to the top of the Netflix queue it went.
If you like documentaries, this is a great one. Even if I couldn't relate to the subject matter at all, this is a great one. They highlight 5 of the musicals participants...a wonderful way of showing just how broad of a spectrum the Autism Spectrum actually can be. These kids all exhibit different "symptoms" of the disorder. Neal is non-verbal but very smart, Henry is overly-obsessed with dinosaurs and reptiles and often retreats to be alone in crowds, Lexi's echolalia is profound and she is becoming interested in boys, Adam is always on the go and wanders off frequently, Wyatt is highly verbal and hates being in a special education classroom but fears the bullies of being mainstreamed.
You get to meet the parents, too, and see how Autism affects them. Lexi's parents are right in the middle of a divorce, Neal's parents are already divorced, Adam's father had an affair for 16 months after his diagnosis, Henry's dad (you'll recognize him) sees how he may be on the spectrum himself, and Wyatt's parents seek legal help in finding a school to fit his needs.
Check it out. I haven't given away too much, and you certainly can't get the deep emotional aspects from what I've written here. It's not a bad way to spend 90 minutes of your day.
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