Sunday, June 19, 2011

Happy Father's Day

Nine years ago, for my Dad's 50th birthday, I wrote him a poem and had it mounted with some pictures of us. The sentiments I wrote then haven't changed, and since the framed poem was the only copy still in existence, I thought I'd share it here to tell my dad Happy Father's Day.

Daddy's Girl
If you are a newborn baby
and your eighteen year old father
rushes home from school
wanting nothing more than to
hold your tiny delicateness...
                     You must be a daddy's girl.


If you are a toddler
and your best idea of fun
is to lie, butt in the air, across
a strong sturdy lap
and watch Sesame Street...
                     You must be a daddy's girl.


If you are a small child 
and you dress up 
for a date to the movies
with the most handsome 
man on the planet...
                   You must be a daddy's girl.


If you are an adolescent
sick in the hospital
with a Trivial Pursuit buddy
at your bedside every day
(even though he never wins)
and with tears in your eyes 
at night when he's gone...
                     You must be a daddy's girl.


If you are a college freshman 
who call crying almost hysterically
for a ride home
at 2 in the morning
from a house you can't
give directions to
and someone is there
faster than is possible...
                   You must be a daddy's girl.


If you are a college sophomore
who calls home late at night
just to hear that certain voice
because you saw a sad movie
about a dad who died...
                     You must be a daddy's girl.


If you are a young bride 
walked down the aisle
by your hero
who also happens to be 
your personal photographer...
                    You must be a daddy's girl.

If you are a new mom 
whose precious baby daughter
prefers the rocking of Papa
to her own mother...
                     You must be a daddy's girl
                     Who has just taken 
                     A backseat to Papa's girl.


If you are a second time mom
with your father's calming 
presence next to you
in the waiting room
as your baby undergoes
three hours of surgery...
                     You must be a daddy's girl.


If you have a man 
that buys you Mother's Day gifts
and he isn't your husband...
                    You must be a daddy's girl.


If you have a man that will
give everything to you
do anything for you
ask nothing from you
                     You must be the luckiest daddy's girl in the world.
                     You must be the daughter of the world's best father.
                     And you must thank heaven for him every day.
                     I do.


Happy Father's Day, daddy, with much love from your Daddy's Girl.

Friday, May 27, 2011

CONFORM!

Yesterday, Lili was "spoken to" by the counselor about her style of dress. She was very upset that she was asked to dress "normal" for the rest of the school year. The counselor then emailed me about the conversation. She says Lili's outfits have become a distraction. This annoys me, because it shouldn't be Lili's responsibility to make sure other kids are not distracted. It also bothers me because Lili's fashion sense is nothing new, so I'm not sure why it is an issue now.

Here is Lili this winter. She does not dress crazy in order to get attention at school. This was taken at Papa's house while she was getting ready to go play in the snow.
 This is an outfit Lili wore shortly after Christmas. Santa put the skirt in her stocking, so how bad can it be?
 This is another outfit she wore in the winter. The leggings were a Christmas present.
 This outfit was worn in the Spring:
 Another Springtime outfit:
 The studio where Lili dances had tutus for sale for a fundraiser. I bought her two of them and she was over-the-moon excited to wear them. And what this girl can do with just two tutus!

 The gun didn't go to school as part of this outfit. But parts of this one were her dance recital costumes. I paid enough for the darn things, I figure she might as well get some use out of them!
 She didn't wear these shoes when she wore this outfit to school. And she has on shorts under the tutu. But this one apparently garnered her some attention from boys (according to the counselor...Lili said she didn't notice any extra attention.)
 And this is the outfit she was wearing yesterday when the counselor told her she was distracting other students.
What you have not seen in these photos is her poofed hair, the tiara she loves to wear, and the make-up and glitter. That is because I am not really fond of her wearing make-up so she waits until she's at school to put it on. And she has a pretty heavy hand. And she LOVES glitter. Lots and lots of glitter. But Lili is a straight-A student. She is responsible and respectful. She is helpful and caring. So I choose not to make a big deal of the fact that she likes to layer glitter on her face.

Now, I can see that if you stretch the dress code you could say the tiara is a hat. And if that is the case, she shouldn't wear it. But I do not see how anything else she has worn violates the dress code. The counselor said in her email that she spoke to Lili at the request of teachers. If the teachers thought she was violating dress code, they should have just told her to change. I think the problem is that they just don't like what she's wearing.

So basically, my daughter's school is disrespecting her right to individuality. They are asking her to conform. Too much of public education is about sameness. I am so proud of Lili for being quirky and unique and confident enough to show it. I am regretting that in my return email to the counselor I agreed that Lili wold CONFORM for the rest of the year. I am not happy about crushing my child's spirit, creativity and individuality. It makes me sad that the school would ask me to do that. I am sad that the school obviously doesn't appreciate my child as an individual. And I don't know what will happen next year. But I will not let them change my child just to suit their idea of what is acceptable.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

What is a Mom Worth?

If you add up all the jobs a mom does, how much should she be paid? According to ABC World News Tonight, she's worth just over $61,000. But that is only for the very basic things that mom does: childcare, driving, cooking, cleaning, party planning, and a couple other smaller jobs. But for my mom, these tasks are only the beginning.

My mom is also a seamstress. She sews clothing for me, for my girls, for their dolls. And if I need anything mended, of course, I take it to her. My mom is also an interior designer. The only project I have done in my house without her help was painting my living room. And believe me, you can tell she wasn't there. She's painted a moon mural, a castle wall, a frog pond, and stripes...lots of stripes. She's hung wall paper and sewed curtains and pillows and bedding.

My mom has been a laundress. When I was first married and had a tiny washer and electric drier that took forever to dry a load, I would take my laundry for the week to mom on Friday. She'd have it ready when I got out of work. And later, when my appliances were big enough but my water was terribly rusty, she'd wash my whites weekly so they didn't become oranges.

My mom has been a nurse. Beyond the normal jobs of taking temps and dispensing medicines, when I was a kid, she'd soak my sunburns in ice water and vinegar. Her hands were so soft. And after I grew up, she came and stayed with me after each of the girls were born, being the one to get up in the night and bring them to me in my exhausted state. She also took care of me after two serious health issues: a car accident and a surgery with complications, putting up with not only me moving back home for short stays but also bringing the girls with me. She had to cook and clean for us and change bandages and help me shower.

My mom is not a 9 to 5 mom. She's an on-call, on-demand mom. She's there to answer questions and give advice and encouragement and comfort. She has a way of listening and remembering, thereby getting me the best presents for birthdays and Christmases. $61,000? I don't think so. My mom is truly the most gifted, generous, wonderful mom. You could pay her $61 million, and though I'm sure she'd accept it, it still wouldn't be enough. Even words aren't enough for my mom. While I can tell you all the things my mom has done for me, the power of what it has meant to me cannot be explained in words.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I love you.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Teachers Make All the Difference

This week is Teacher Appreciation Week and even though I am a teacher (thanks, self!) or maybe because I am a teacher, I want to take some time to recognize some of the teachers who had profound effects on my life. Of course my first teachers were my parents. My mother taught me so many lessons, I wouldn't even dream of beginning to enumerate them. In fact, given that Mother's Day is this Saturday, I will reserve a post just for her. Ditto for Father's Day, also on the horizon. (geez, is this year 2011 speeding by for everyone else?!)

When I was a young adolescent, a teenager, and then a young woman, if you were looking for me at family gatherings, your best bet would be to find the smallest children and I would be among them. I grasped every chance I had to hold babies. Truthfully, that included asking complete strangers in the grocery store if I could hold their babies. And people were either more trusting then, or I just had an air about me, because 9 times out of 10, they would let me. But it was at one of these family reunions that my future was cast. My Great Great Aunt Genevieve, a wonderfully generous and beautiful woman who had taught kindergarten for over 30 years in the town where my father grew up, told my mother and grandmother, as they all watched me entertain the extended family youngsters, that I was going to make a great teacher one day. I don't know about the great part, but it shows the power of language, praise, and recognition, that 30 years later I am a teacher and I remember that she said that about me.

When I was in the third grade, Mrs. Feutz was my teacher. I always thought she looked like an angel: blond wispy hair, a gentle touch, and a voice that lulled you with comfort. I had a hard time in third grade learning how to tell time on an analog clock. I'm not sure digital clocks even existed at the time so it was probably pretty important that I learn this skill. And because it is usually pretty darn easy for me to learn new concepts, the fact that I was struggling with this caused me to have a break-down right in my third grade classroom. Mrs. Feutz sent me to the hall and of course I was sure this was the end of my school career. I must have thought she was going to reprimand my behavior--that's what teachers do, right? (After all, I did skip the story of my kindergarten teacher--when asked what I wanted to be in kindergarten, I said, "A teacher, so I can be the one to yell.") But I wasn't scared. Somehow I knew even being in trouble by Mrs. Feutz wasn't going to be a bad thing. And of course, Mrs. Feutz was that kind of teacher who understood that sometimes kids get frustrated and can't control their reactions. I don't remember what she said to me that day. I do know that she taught me how to read that darn clock!

I would love to share all of the stories of teachers who meant so much to me, but nobody would want to read for that long. And if they did want to, I'd make it into a book and maybe make some real cash off it. But let me give you some highlights:
Mrs. Newberry who told me after I was grown that she had expected me to be a journalist because of my writing abilities. I still have the poetry anthology I made in her 6th grade classroom.
Miss Frost, the first year creative writing teacher who helped me and my best friend Laura navigate the rough waters of best-friendship in 8th grade.
Mr. Adams, my high school English teacher. I can still recall verbatim several comments he left on some of my writings, though the papers are long gone.
Mrs. Lange, my high school Spanish teacher. I didn't stick with Spanish long after college, but she's the reason I pursued a minor in the subject.

And teachers need teachers too. So lastly, I'd like to tell you about Norma. The first teacher I ever called by a first name, even though she's a doctor (I'd wear that title right out if I had it!) Norma was my mentor and teacher during graduate school when I was working on my Masters degree in Middle Level Education. If I am a great teacher today, I owe much of it to her. I am a kinder, more patient, more humane teacher because of her. I had a class with her during the time when those WWJD (What Would Jesus Do) bracelets were so popular, and as a class we decided that it would be much more appropriate to have WWND bracelets. We measured everything about being a good teacher on the What Would Norma Do scale. Norma had so much faith in me that I am now assisting her and teaching in the same program she taught to me so well.

So on this Teacher Appreciation Week, thank you to all you teachers who open your hearts and share your gifts to create successful, responsible, and happy adults. May you one day find the riches you so deserve right now.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

You'll Always be the Baby



Eleven years ago, I was full of doubts. I doubted that I was ready for your arrival. I doubted that I had enough time, enough patience, enough love for two. The love I felt for your sister had the power to take my breath away and make my knees buckle. How could my heart take a double dose of that?

And then you were here. A sweet bundle of perfection. With one tiny flaw. You were imprinted on my heart. And the flaw brought the fiercest sense of protectiveness. I felt that you would not only need my love, care and attention, but you would need me to protect you from a world that often is cruel.


But I needn't have worried about you. From the very beginning, you were sweet- natured, calm, and charming. Before you could talk, you could get whatever you wanted with your winning smile, your impish eyes. It came naturally for all of us: mom, dad, Gigi, Papa, and Nama, to give you whatever you wanted. You didn't need me, it was I who needed you.

You are such a dreamer. It wasn't a mistake that one of the phrases you heard first and often was "Focus, Lili!" You have a tender heart. You are caring and generous. And despite the fact that I want to keep you my baby forever, you are becoming such a responsible young person.

Lili, your joy for life bubbles around you like a fountain. Eleven years ago, you slipped into our life so naturally. The doubts that I felt fell away as you completed our family and filled our days with sunshine.

 
So today, on your 11th birthday, I just want you to know how much I love you and how much joy you have brought and you continue to bring. Happy birthday sweet girl!

Friday, February 18, 2011

Now you're 14

 You came with the rain and the lady bugs. A tiny creature with so much power. Power to change everything. Schedules and priorities and balance and hearts.
 You grew too quickly. And to say you brought nothing but joy would be a lie. Because you also brought frustration, knowing your mind before you could even talk. Demanding a new mom when you were angry with me. Playing your games of "Mommy, please I want to talk about it" as I left your room but refusing to talk when I turned back in.

You also brought worry. Like when you passed out right in front of me as I told your great-grandma on the phone that you weren't that sick. And as you grow, the worries have grown...and changed.

 But you've always been wise beyond your years. And you've always known the way
you want to live your life. And so you've also brought pride. Pride in your strength and your values and your confidence. I'm so proud of the young woman you are becoming.
And yes, you have brought joy. So much joy into my life. You are witty, intelligent, silly. You make me laugh almost every day. You are AWESOME and I hope your 14th birthday is just as awesome for you. I love you so much, my sweet girl.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

I'll smoke...

this carrot if you won't let me drink!
Yep, she's still trying to convince me to let her have a wine cooler.(See previous post.)
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