What happens now?

I have a friend who wrote a blog titled, "What happens when they don't need you as much?" It struck a chord then and now. My "babies" are 20 and 17. And being their Mom is still my primary job. It is my reason for breathing. Another friend said, "my job from the moment you were born is to get you ready to leave me." That is also true. My head knows that but my heart is not listening.

I have not been a perfect parent. I have not been a perfect wife. I have not been a perfect daughter, sister, friend, human being. It has taken me, oh...40 years to realize that God didn't expect me to be, in fact, sent Jesus because He knew I wouldn't be. I have tried and that's what I hope my kids have seen. They don't know that they are the reason I went back to school. It had very little to do with me and a great deal to do with them. Yes, I've always wanted to teach. More importantly I wanted them to know that anything is possible. So, when it was time for me to face Algebra, I did it. It wasn't fun, but I did it. As I thought about what my password should be throughout school, I knew it had to be something to do with them. That way, each time I typed it I remembered why I was doing what I was doing.

My daughter's song at her dedication was "The Cradle Song" by Sandi (then) Patti. A verse in it says, "though we might fail you often the Lord will still be there." As I stood at that altar with my husband, I never imagined all the things life would bring. That beautiful, beautiful little baby has been everything we wanted and so much more than we deserve. She is an "A" student (at UF!), contributing reporter for The Alligator, wears a seat belt when she drives and loves GOD. She is so ready to be on her own. I am not.

For our son, his song was "Another Child to Hold." As I've written in other places in my blog, he is a child with a heart of gold. He loves deeply and cares passionately. He knows GOD will help with whatever. He is as intelligent and gifted as his sister but has a completely different approach to school. He is a dual enrollment student and does fine. I don't think I've ever seen the child study...ever. I could tell you each time that I've proofread a paper for him, um...never. And I'm an English teacher. I worry how he will do in college. He wants to be a teacher. Or an entrepreneur living on Daytona Beach. I'm trying to stay quiet.

When the kids were very small, my husband and I worked for my brother's ministry. He travelled a lot and I was home with the kids. My daughter was, and still is, a Daddy's girl. That has always been cool with me since I was that too. I know how much I loved my Daddy and how I enjoyed the times we shared. Prior to his working at the ministry, he was a McD's manager. He took her to manager's meetings with him. The first sentence I remember her saying was, "go Mc don don's, I want fre fries." My son, born on the fourth of July, was our firecracker baby. He cried from the moment he hit the air. His dad left for a crusade on the Saturday after he was born. So, my son and I have always been close. He is a lot like me. For better or worse. Anyway, we made it through those four years as a "single" mom with two kids.

All the life experiences we have make us the people we are. I've always said there were two things I wouldn't fight over while raising my kids, hair and clothes. When I tell people that they are usually shocked. I have to explain that I didn't mean I would let them out of the house in anything inappropriate. I just meant I didn't care if they wanted to wear the same dress every day or sweatpants with cowboy boots, I was cool with that. As for hair...it will grow back. I didn't let my daughter have long hair and she still holds that against me. In all honesty, her hair was (and is) so thick and beautiful that she could wear it in a Mohawk and I would still love it. I just wasn't a brushoutyourhairlistentoyoucryputitinaponytail kind of mom. As you see in pictures elsewhere in the blog, my son's hair was a mass of Puerto Rican poofiness. Clothes and hair were (and are) battles I chose not to fight. They seem to have made it out to the other side relatively unscathed and fairly well groomed.

The battles I have fought are the ones their Dad and I believe matter. We didn't let them celebrate Halloween. We didn't let them watch cartoons that we thought were ugly. Power Rangers...I will NEVER hear the end of that one. It was a struggle to let him have Pokemon; her an N*Sync CD. We didn't let them see movies that we would be ashamed to tell their grandparents about. They didn't date or drive until they were ready. They had/have curfews. They had bedtimes. They told people thank you for gifts whether they liked them or not...it really IS the thought that counts. They were required to be kind and helpful to adults. They were not allowed to make fun of people who are disabled or different from them. They were ... spanked. They were raised to believe in GOD and that Jesus is his son and faith in him is the only way to the Father. They were always told as much as we love them, GOD loves them more.

The seeds we sowed are bearing fruit. They both know that GOD can answer any question, solve any problem, listens ALL the time and loves them. I know these things in my heart AND my head.

But, it doesn't make letting them go any easier. I am used to being the one they talk to about problems. That's changing. I am used to being the one who could kiss the boo-boos and make them go away. They're learning to find the Band aids on their own. I'm used to being the boss. That's changing too. Maybe that is the hardest part of all.

I cringe when they don't answer their phones right away. My heart races when I hear a siren and don't know if they're off the road yet. I would throw people off a cliff to protect them. I will lose every bit of sanity I have left if I believe someone has hurt them. I have caught vomit in my hands. I have held a congested baby in a steam filled bathroom. I have rocked and cried right along with them when they were teething and there was nothing I could do. I know I am not the only parent who has done those things. But I know that these things are what I should do...that's what being a parent means.

Having done those things is what makes letting them go harder. No one will ever love them like I do. No one will ever bear their imperfections and shortcomings as I will. No one will ever think they're perfect and amazing and astonishing human beings as I do. But that will change too...they will meet the person GOD has for them and they will tell me how wonderful, amazing, and spectacular they are. I hope I will smile. I hope I can accept not being needed quite so much. I hope I can remember that the reason they are ABLE to do that is because I've done my job. I hope I will be there to see it all. They will always be my reason for breathing. I hope I will be able to stop holding my breath.

Germ carrying little children

who shared their germs with me. Thanks. Thanks a lot. I feel like poo. I am going to go lie down. Oh, the perks of teaching! Take care of yourselves.

You'll always be my baby...

We went to Gville this afternoon. I had to have my son do the driving. My mom had a doctor's appointment and I had a very upset tummy. He did a great job with a few exceptions.

This brings me to my point...well, sort of. It is one of the hardest things I have had to do as a parent. Let my babies fail. I can't stand it. I know it's a part of life, but that doesn't make it any easier. I want to fix it. I want it to be me and not them. He was trying to make his way around to the various places I needed to go. Gainesville. 5:00 traffic. Poor poor urban planning. You do the math. But, I sat there. I kept my mouth closed...for the most part. This is the whole reason why I wanted to ride in the back. That plus I really didn't feel well. He got to be his Grandma's chauffeur. She loved it.

She wanted HER baby to feel better. I guess it doesn't end. : )

And on another note, Happy FORTY SECOND BIRTHDAY to my best friend from when we were babies!! Now she's my age.

Teenage Weddings

I wonder why these kids are so demanding?? Oh, wait, could it be because they are given E V E R Y T H I N G they want?

There has to be some connection to teenage pregnancy and entitlement. There are "Super Sweet 16" parties. There are prom dates that are more expensive than my wedding. There are prom,pageant,flower girl, homecoming attendant dresses in closets that are going to hang there for the rest of their life. What's left for them to celebrate? To look forward to? How will they top what they've already been given?

There are cars and trucks driven by these kids that are nicer than the one I have now. There are clothes on their backs and shoes on their feet that cost more than the GNP of Ethiopia.

A teacher reprimanded my child? A teacher told my child they should consider finding a vocation rather than a four year degree? An administrator TOOK MY CHILD'S PHONE? AFTER IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII sent them a TEXT during SCHOOL? How dare they.

A parent wonders WHY the school ALLOWED their child to be the victim of a cruel text message. A parent complains that the child has too much homework...but wants us to get them into a tier one college.

Yes, I'm angry. Maybe I need someone to buy me a car. Mine has a scratch.

Alrighty then...

It's Sunday. I am remarkably relaxed. My son went grocery shopping. PRAISE GOD for driver's licenses. I'm getting ready to read and take a nap. I'm surrounded by cats...LOL...they had flea medicine and are not happy with the world. Happy week!

Kids on the Block

M.I.A. Paper whatever...thanks. You're part of the reason I face the kids I face every day. Grow up and take responsibility for the junk you put out there. All of them: Lil' Stupid, The Lame, A Convict...take a long look at yourself. Yuck.

It isn't just rap, it's all of it. Katy Perry, Pussycat Dolls, and the list goes on. All the things that I try to share with the students I see...boom, means nothing because these people prove contrary to what I say. They do nothing and make a ton of money in the process. Same thing with athletes. Carmelo Anthony makes me want to throw up. Adam Jones...don't even get me started. I like Allen Iverson more than I like him. And my head would probably explode if I talked about Ricky Williams.

The saddest part for me is the unrealistic life it portrays. Most kids have about a snowball's chance in Hades of making it pro. Look how hard Cedric has worked and he still isn't "there." Johnson is an anomaly. I'm not even sure if that's his name. Where are the members of CHS's state champ 4x100 team?

Our best athletes?...drug addicts, unwed parents, small time cons. There are only a few who've done anything. Jeremy comes to mind. Stacy. A good man and a Pastor. I know there are others from both CHS and BHS who I'm forgetting.

Sports and music. The biggest dream and the biggest lie. What if you get hurt? What if you get sick? How do you live then?

There is a whole big wide world outside. A world where you can be a doctor, a teacher, a pastor, a nurse, an engineer, an artist, a writer, a clerk, a scientist, a meter reader...a ton of worthy things.

Watching the people around you, admiring the people UNWORTHY of admiration, all lies. Don't be the one who rides a bike or your parent's car through town while talking on your Boost phone with your cubic ziconia, gold plated jewelry. It is not impressive. Don't rev your truck engine through the WAL MART PARKING LOT. It is not impressive. Don't post pictures of your butt, your bong, or your drunk driving/self/friends on the internet. Not only is it unimpressive, it is STUPID.

Focus on what you know you do well and DO THAT THING. Be you. Don't be a caricature of yourself.

Pay attention in school. Try hard. Give back to your community. Find a person to love and who loves you...not a friend with benefits. Don't date someone a week and say you love them. You don't. Be thankful. Be kind. Be a person worthy of admiration. Be a person of good character. Look for a greater purpose. Don't believe your own publicity. We live in a small, small place. Be the bigger person...walk away.

Sad randomnicity...I'm an English teacher so I can make up words...read the fine print.

I'm supposed to have answers. I wonder who will answer my questions? This week has been a major challenge for me. I feel beaten and broken down. I don't feel successful. I definitely don't feel pretty. I don't think I've felt that in about 200000000 years. I see so many things around me that I wish were different. I ask my students and my children all sorts of random things. I imagine that I am quite an enigma. I look back now at my childhood and adolescence and realize that I am the weird child they talk about in the child development classes.

This weekend friends of our family lost their sister, daughter, aunt and mother in a car accident. Car accidents...for as long as I can remember...are one of my biggest fears. It seems too terrible to bear. My heart breaks for them.

I see so many kids doing so many things that are hurtful. Babies having babies, kids lying and stealing, breaking into the school- particularly my room- just to be vandals, kids calling in bomb threats, using language EVERY DAY that would make my Navy veteran Daddy blush, drinking until they pass out or smoking until they can't speak then posting the pictures ON THE STUPID World WIDE Web, arguing with one another to the point of fighting over things that won't matter two weeks from now, kids who will "yes ma'am" you 'til the end of the world and pay no attention whatsoever to what you've told them. Not to mention a lunatic pulling a gun on the campus my daughter attends along with many of her high school friends.

Is the rest of my career going to be spent speaking to noone listening? I don't know if I can handle that. I try really, really hard to make a difference. I love these kids, I really do. They can't understand, because of their youth, I know that...well, intellectually I know that. Emotionally, my heart breaks. Every day. A million little pieces.

I'm told not to trust them. They can't be trusted. Well, I trust them. I will trust them until they give me a reason not to. Once that trust is broken...not likely to get it back. Am I naive? Probably. Am I going to regret it...maybe. Do I believe what the Bible says about 70 times 7? EVERY DAY EVERY SINGLE WORD.

So then, that's the answer to my questions. I have to hold on to the hope that Jesus gives me. I have to believe he knows what's around every corner, behind every wall, and in every day. I have to believe the old adage that "If I can reach just one child..." I can only hope. There ya go...ramblings of an old, fat, menopausal lady. Be afraid...be very afraid.