Christmas Funny - something to remember

This Christmas was the best one so far with Jenny.

First we explained who Santa Claus is and what his whole purpose was.
We celebrated Jesus's birthday and sang him Happy Birthday.
We didn't make it to church, so I have another extra Christmas dress that was never worn. Maybe it'll be good for Easter - red sparkly dresses for Easter are okay, right?
We made reindeer food at preschool and had fun talking about how it would help the reindeer find our house.
And then on Christmas Eve, before Jenny went to bed, we picked out two cookies to leave for Santa.
(Presents came under the tree once she was in bed and after I got back from mass).

Christmas morning began with a shower for Jenny - those diapers don't hold 35 pounds, I tell ya.
After we cleared the mess and reset the bed, Tim and I led Jenny out to see the presents beneath the tree. Jenny was so excited. Her eyes were wide as saucers and her little mouth dropped open like she was planning to catch flies with it. It was priceless.

Wanting the full experience, we showed Jenny that Santa had eaten the cookies we'd left out the night before. We told her, "Look Jenny, Santa ate all the cookies." Jenny's face just fell and her eyes welled up with tears. "Oh no!" she cried, "Santa ate all the cookies!" Jenny had mistakenly thought Santa had eaten all of the cookies in the house. It took a few moments to get her back calmed down and to show her that indeed we still had plenty of cookies left in the house, before she was able to focus again on the presents under the tree.

Jenny's Christmas was a great experience. She opened a gift, was instantly amazed by it, insisted that we open it (which of course we did), she'd play with it while Tim and I exchanged gifts and then we'd call her back to open another and so on. It was a wonderfully fantastic morning full of joy and peace and fun.

I can't help but wonder if next Christmas will be as much absolute bliss as this one was.
Thank you Santa for a really great gift.

Progress toward the Goal

The first night after I got Jenny to do a nap without her Binky, we allowed her to have it. She'd been running a fever of 101.5, so we made the parental decision to allow her to have it. Even the next day during her nap, she had the Binky. I feared that we'd failed even before we'd had the chance to try.

Once it was clear that Jenny was not actually getting seriously sick, we returned to Plan A on Thursday night. I set things in motion by telling Jenny how proud I was of her for sleeping without her Binky for a nap and how happy it would make both Daddy and me, if she went without it for the night.

Unbelievably, she agreed.

Jenny was very enthused about giving up her Binky and being a big girl and making Mommy and Daddy proud and happy, so we went with it. A tiny bit of fussing and she was out.

So Friday came and I went to put Jenny down for her nap. She cried for exactly four minutes and thirty-eight seconds. Meanwhile, I re-organized the stuff under my bathroom sink. I had to stay focused on something while she fussed. It was heart-rending and twice, I picked up a spare Binky and headed for her door. I could hardly bear the sound of her grief.

But finally, Jenny did settle down and she did get some rest.

And tonight, Jenny went to bed without a Binky, again. No fussing and only a little reading to her dolls, but otherwise a peaceful night.

God, I hope this lasts.

Part of me thinks this is too easy right now - though this afternoon was rough. Maybe she really is ready to become a "big girl". I don't know that I'm ready, but maybe she is. She's out of her high chair and now she's given up her Binky. Next, the diapers will go and her bed rail will disappear.

And I'm not sure that I'm ready for this.

With each new stage of Jenny, I first face it with curiosity - what will she be like with all this "grown-up-ness"? Second, I see the benefits of the new stage - I have my snuggler back and she's so smart right now, doing so very well. And then comes the worry - I like this stage, I hope it doesn't pass too quickly. And last comes the sadness - I miss how dependent she was on us. What if this new stage doesn't include us so much?

I can't keep Jenny from growing up and I certainly don't want to wish any moment of her life away. But my job as her Mom is to work myself out of a job - give her everything I can and then let her go. And no matter how hard I want to keep her frozen in this moment, this one shining moment, I cannot.

One foot in front of the other

Our pediatrician told us to ditch the pacifier a year ago. Her rationale included a warning about how difficult the binky-sucking habit would be after she turned three; the term, "Near Impossible" entered the conversation, I believe. We tried and failed, but our relatives, the babysitter, and everyone else it seems, could get my dear Jenny to go without it. 

So we're making a plan to help Jenny get rid of her pacifier by 2012. I'll keep you posted on how things are going.

The bravest little girl I've ever known

My little girl is known for having a flair for the dramatic. Honestly, I have no idea where she gets it from, but I digress. Jenny will go ballistic over a tiny bump on the knee. She will whimper over the freckle on her leg and insist that she needs to put a band-aid on it. She frets when I bruch her hair and she yells when we brush her teeth. But not today.

Today, my Jenny astounded me. Today, she got her flu shot and didn't whimper or cry in the least.

Tim and I teamed up today to take Jenny to the doctor's office for her annual flu shot. We packed an extra pacifier in case the first one fell on the floor while Jenny was sobbing. We packed a juice cup and four packs of fruit snacks, because we were certain this flu shot was going to be an ordeal.

We pull up to the doctor's office and there is practically no one in the parking lot. "Okay," I think to myself, "as least no one will be here to witness me breaking all the mommy rules" (Don't soothe with food, don't enable the binky addiction, etc.) And I'm thankful that no one will see my tears as it breaks my heart to hear "that" cry - the cry of pain that I cannot fix.

My hand shakes a bit as I fill out the paperwork, asking me if Jenny has asthma or an egg allegry. At one point, I hesitated - how do I spell my name again? Still, a whole one minute later, I have the page read and signed and turned over to the receptionist. She smiles sweetly at us (she must know how worried I am for Jenny) and she points us to the yellow sign.

Since it it only us, the nurse - a very sweet and unexperienced looking YOUNG girl - gestures us to a room where the exam table has a stack of stickers. "Oh good," I think to myself. "They're prepared for our little banchee to scream. Maybe the stickers will keep the volume level from becoming deadly to all within a mile radius."

Up on the table, coat off, Jenny watches the nurse pull out the syringe. She gets little nervous as the nurse swipes her arm with the alcohol swab and I brace myself for the shriek.

But it never comes. Jenny doesn't even flinch. The nurse put on a Scooby-Doo band-aid and tells Jenny to pick out a sticker for being such a good girl.

Jenny just starts talking like the flu shot was just some minor pause in a long conversation she's been meaning to have with us about something related to Jeff Wiggle falling asleep again. No tears, no whimper, no "Mommy, I want to hold you." Just a blip.

Wow.

After Jenny's appointment, we went to get Mommy's blood drawn. Jenny wanted to watch what the nurse was doing to Mommy very closely. She wasn't scared at all. Tim was more disturbed by the it than Jenny was. Jenny just kept asking me what the nurse was doing.

Wow.

My little girl manages to surprise me in so many ways. I'm constantly amazed by her. Constantly.

Jenny's first field trip

Today marked a milestone in Jenny's life and thanks to the Kenton County Education Association and the wonderful people at the Kenton County Board of Education, I was able to experience it.

Jenny's first field trip.

Kinman Farms, located in Burlington, KY and the beautiful weather today made for a pretty good experience. (Nothing like Sunrock, Aunt Karen and Aunt Dottie, but pretty good). There, Jenny learned about a few things that they grow on the farm - spaghetti squash, swan and snake gourds, corn and of course pumpkins. We met a very enthusiastic puppet crow and Farmer Aaron and did the Kinman Farm Dance. Though Jenny was a bit overwhelmed by the crowd, she eased into the day fairly well and had a good time.

Petting zoo - where Jenny met Angel Cakes, the bunny; Charlie, the pony; and a 14 year old burro along with a Mama Sow and her little Piglets, a dromedary and a very fancy rooster, who for some reason didn't want anything to do with my little two year old. There were ducks and sheeps and llamas and wallabyes and so on - the typical things you'd find on a farm - and Jenny got to pet them.

Into the Wagons! The hayride was a little tough for her at first. She got scared when Farmer Aaron helped her into the wagon, but settled in once we started pointing out the things along the path: a giant hay bale pumpkin and the giant spotted hay bale spider, along with a number of silly board cartoons who waved to us.

Time to play - When we arrived at the shelter, Jenny was again a little overwhelmed by the sheer number of kids going to the playsets all at once. She tried her hand at the slides and got a little upset over having to share with the older boys. We pulled over at a picnic table and had some fruit snacks. Jenny felt a bit better.

Corn Maze? When given the choice to go into the corn maze with everyone else or to stay behind and have the playset almost all to herself, my little girl decided that corn mazes were not her thing today. She got the baby swing for several long minutes and was the happiest she'd been all day. Oh well - I guess you can't plan on what will make your little girl happy. All you can do is just go with it and hope that the other little kid's mom will understand and go for the slide.

Snack and pick your pumpkin - Jenny went through several pumpkins before settling on the exact one she wanted to take home to Daddy. My pumpkin, she had picked out in less than a minute. "Here, Mommy." Miss Judi got into it too - showing Jenny all about the insides of pumpkins and gourds and helping Jenny make her final selection.

Wagons Home! We hopped back on the hay wagons, parked ourselves on the straw bales and headed back to the main buildings. On our way out, Jenny and I visited the animals again and bought two mini pumpkins because Jenny said they were "so cute."

Back to the car, buckled in and then home, where Jenny and I both took naps after our first field trip.

What a great day!

The Brown County Fair

This year marks Jenny's third trip to the Brown County Fair and though it was incredibly cold and supremely windy, Jenny and her parents had a wonderful time.

By herself, Jenny ate a corn dog  - her first official fair corndog ever. Jenny saw her first tractor pull and though she seemed a little overloaded in the beginning, Jenny enjoyed watching the loud tractors through two tractor classes. Our favorite was the sparkly green one whose paint job cost as much as the tractor itself. Can't quite recall the name, but I'm sure it was as spectacular as some of the others. Grandpa's favorite was called, the Plumber's Nightmare - it had three helicopter engines on it.

Jenny saw real animals - some for the first time outside of her picture books. Pigs, geese, rabbits, turkeys, guinea pigs, sheep, horses, cows, baby chicks and more. We learned so much about farm animals and had a great time in the process.

Additionally, Jenny had her first funnel cake, her first taste of a gyro, her first caramel apple, and her first fair fudge. We were in line to do the ferris wheel, but Jenny said she didn't want to go - there were boys on it :)~. We attempted the Super Trucks instead, but Jenny didn't want to share the ride with the other little girls the carny was putting into the truck with her. So we rode the merry-go-round instead. Jenny had fun. On our return visit with cousin Kraig (plus his parents) and Grandparents K, Jenny rode the ponies around. That was her favorite part of the whole fair.

Both nights, Jenny fell asleep on her way home, dreaming of next year's fair and perhaps hoping for a bit warmer weather. Maybe that was just me. I fell asleep on the way home too.

I'll post pictures to the Facebook account as soon as I get ahead of some of this silly grading stuff.

I don't wanna go . . . . (reprise)

I'm six weeks into the school year and I can't help missing the days at the zoo. Jenny was always a keen learner and eager to see more than we'd seen the last time. Why can't all my students be as excited about learning as Jenny is? When did our society learn to dislike learning so much?

I miss teaching Jenny about textures and colors and bugs and animals and how to treat people and how to use her inside voice. I miss introducing the world to her, as if it were brand new and full of the curious little details we've forgotten as we got older. There is so much she doesn't know about this world she lives in and I just want to stay home and spend time with her.

Fall has arrived and with it comes a myriad of my favorite experiences - smells of crisp, campfire tinged air that snuggles into your fleece and your skin; the clove spice of cold pumpkin pie; the crinkle of fallen leaves; a whole new world for her to experience.

And what am I stuck doing while all this wonderment is taking place around us? Grading papers.

Ah well, the firepit could use a little starter kindling and some papers . . . just kidding . . . maybe...

The Crying Game

I'm a terrible parent - at least that what the little Voice inside my head tells me. I let me daughter cry to get to sleep. I'm a terrible Mommy. She calls out to me: Mommy . . . Mommy . . . . Mommy with the biggest sobs I've ever heard. It breaks my heart.

And then after about a minute of this, she settles back down and goes to sleep. And it is then that I remember that I cannot prevent her from ever feeling heartache. I can only be there in the morning when she gets back up.

So Jenny is sleeping through the night - at least for now. Thank God for small miracles.

Jenny's new game - she thinks she's so funny

Two adorable things to report on for today.

1. My daughter loves sports, but can't tell the difference between them. Tim was watching football today and Jenny called out, "Soccer!" No Jenny, it's not soccer. "Baseball!" she tries. "No, it's football, Jenny." Later that evening, she called it golf. My poor little girl, she's so confused.

2. Jenny thinks she's hott-stuff for being able to go up and down the step by herself. Not that she couldn't do it before, it's just that now she understands that we'll trust her to do it on her own, without the near heart attack ever time she comes near it. (We're over protective, dontchaknow?) So Jenny has made a little game out of it. It's a variation on the drop-see game (ya know I drop it, now I see you pick it up).

Anyway, Jenny grabs a soccer ball (a small squishy one) out of her playroom and proceed to figure out a dozen ways to put it through, under and over the gate and then says, "I get it. No worries." I'm laughing because she goes down the steps, retrieves the ball, returns upstairs and repeats this process, just so she can go up and down the steps getting this ball.

She's trying so hard to grow up so fast. All I can do is smile about the frustrating times and then let them be dissapated by the moments that make me laugh. I really do love that little girl.

Jenny's day at the Renaissance Festival

September 24, 2011 - a beautiful, though overcast day. The weatherman told us there might be a few pop-up showers, but nothing to cancel our plans for. So we packed up the backpack, the big stroller, and headed off to Waynesville, Ohio.

Waynesville is about an hour's drive from our home and we made a short pitstop at Grandma's that morning before we headed off. Jenny was not very happy about leaving Maw-Maw's condo. Afterall, she's got great toys and a back patio where Jenny likes to pull leaves off the plants. Reluctantly, though, Jenny conceded to be strapped in. I think it was the promise of juice and fruit snacks, but that's just me.

Poor Jenny kept thinking we were going to the zoo and so got a bit fussy at the 45 min mark when she realized we weren't going to see the elephants today.

After parking in East-Jesus land, and the trek to the front gates, Jenny was almost already done. My dreams of a peaceful, fun-filled day didn't really come to fruition. Jenny didn't really want to shop or watch the shows and she was too little to ride the rides. Today was a day of temper tantrums and running away from us. Today was a rough day.

But there were cute moments too.

Like when Jenny smelled the incense oils with me. Or when she shied away from the woman with the lotion bar and clung to my leg for dear life. And the whole 30 seconds she wore the princess hat - she looked so cute in it, really. And when she picked out her guardian angel magnet for her room (the corner pieces are metal so the magnets stick to it). And when we were in the maze, trying to find our way out and when she slid down the slide to Tim.

And then when she conked out five minutes down the highway and slept until we got home.

Even on that little amount of sleep, she managed to do fairly well once we got home.

And now, with any luck, and all the prayers I can muster, I hope she sleeps well tonight.

As for me, I'm going to bed too.

New Book and Its Effect on my Motherhood

Women Food and God - Geneen Roth

Somewhere along the way, I stopped and stalled out. I don't know when and I'm not completely sure how, but I did. One day I may have a conversation with my mother and figure it all out, but for now, I look to the future. How will I be a good mom to Jenny?

I last wrote about how Jenny wasn't sleeping and I complained about what the lack of sleep was doing to all of us. But then my 2nd cousin had her baby and I find myself thinking back to when Jenny was first born - those long - very long - nights when she wouldn't settle herself down to sleep. The 3 am feedings when Jenny and I would sit and rock in the chair in the living room. I remember how exhausted I was and yet how thrilled I'd been to even have had her in the first place.

And so I find myself wondering again what this blog should really be about. I've been spending so much time fretting over myself and the difficult things going on in it. I think I want to spend more time writing about Jenny and what she's been up to.

I am fairly sure that no one will be reading this blog any time soon - there are more scandalous and fanatic things going on in the world and I am just one little mother / teacher / wife in that cacophonous mess of blogs.

My most recent literary purchase has left me wanting to make sure that Jenny grows up with a healthy understanding of herself and who she is. I guess I can hope to show her this blog some day, tell her about who she was and what she did  and maybe help her find a little of herself, in case (like me) she ever forgets.

My creed

I will no longer torture myself with good foods and bad foods.
I will see the awesome power of the universe in the simple pleasures.

I will no longer treat myself unkindly, punishing myself for being wrong.
I will love myself.

I will no longer run from my emotions or worry that those emotions will destroy me.
I will retain my curious conversation with my inner self.

Because I believe

Worrying about what is inevitable will not make that moment any easier
Being worthy of this life and of the gift of this body are not things I can deny
I am the best at who I am - no one could do this better
Pain does not cause long-lasting change; only love can do that
I am not broken
I do not need fixing
My emotions will not destroy me

And most of all .. .
I believe that I AM WORTHY!!!

The Value of Sleep

I never thought I'd take sleep for granted nor did I ever think that sleep would be something I would be unable to live without or with very little.

So it took me five tries to write the above lines because I'm so very tired.  Jenny hasn't been sleeping well lately and Tim and I can't figure out why.

And before you ask, yes, we've tried it; yes, we've read the book; yes, I ever asked my mother...

So last night when our exhaustion had hit its peak, we returned to the old stand-by. First Jenny and I read books for about 30 minutes until I thought she was tired enough. And then we said good night to everything in the room. And then we began the litany of other sleepers: Grandma's going night-night. Grandpa's going night-night. Aunt Natalie's going night-night. Uncle Chris is going night-night. Holly's going night-night.  Gabby's going night-night.  and on and on and on until I had named every family member I could and every one of you from Facebook. According to Jenny's bedtime routine last night, ya'll were going to bed.

And there was peace for 10 hours last night. Thank goodness for sleep.

So tonight, after a battling day at school, we did it again. Last night the routine took about 70 minutes. Tonight is was about an hour. I hope to get her down to 20 minutes just in time for the time change in October or November. Right now, I'm too tired to remember when daylight savings time begins.

So good night to all of you. If you ask Jenny, you're all in bed by now anyway.
I'm heading there now - I hope.

New book and I'm in love

Women, Food and Love by Geneen Roth

There are a myriad of reasons to love this book. I want to buy a thousand copies of this book and give them away to my friends and family and even to a few of my most loathsome enemies.

I love this book.

For those of us who have been torturing ourselves over the years because we've felt too ugly to too whatever to be worthy of breathing, this book tells us what we need to hear: I am not broken and there is nothing about me that needs to be fixed. And while this may be something many people take for granted, the complexity and depth of this issue has plagued everyone woman who has ever dieted. Ever.

We torture our bodies because we hope that we'll be happy. And truth be told, whatever we're trying to do with our bodies is not the thing that's going to make us happy. Happy comes first.

We have to learn to treat ourselves with the same compassion we would be treating anyone else who was torturing themselves - whether it was through drugs or suicide or guilt. When I read this and the entire logical reason people do this to themselves, I was amazed.

There are so many insightful things in this book and I can't help hoping that I can hold onto this lightness that seems to have filled me right now. If I can live a life of amazement, I think I can lose the weight (that which is truly weighing me down and that what is physically weighing me down as well) once and for all.

Crabby Transitions

Since the birth of my daughter, I have hated the end of the summer. It means no more trips to the zoo and no more lazy PJ days and no more driveway art. Instead it becomes all about getting prepared, getting it all done and getting there on time. And I hate it.

This week I will rush to make everything perfect in my new classroom so that the year will flow by smoothly and easily, without the age old conundrum of "where did I put that?" This week, I will make my room as cozy as possible, with all the cute remembrances of Jenny to keep me constantly focused on the really important parts of my life. And this week, I will cling to every last moment of summer I possibly can while at the same time trying to help Jenny through this new transition from home to babysitter and then on to preschool too.

And I'm crabby about it all. On the one side, yes, it's exciting to start a new year with new classes and a new classroom and new . . .new . . new... But on the other hand, I just don't want to do it. I don't want to leave Jenny behind, just when things were getting good. And I'm crabby about it . . . .

As brilliant as my little girl is, I know that this part of the year is difficult for her. She's fighting the change too - a new daycare situation (a familiar face, but still a change), and a new preschool to start up in September - though she loves to learn new things and will enoy making new friends, I hope. I suppose it's what makes me a little more tolerant of her insistence upon watching Nemo while she's curled up with me on the couch with a sippie cup and her blanket.

And when she gets really crabby like I do, I guess it makes me a little more sympathetic to her situation, for I too don't want to leave summer behind.

But autumn is coming - my favorite time of the year. And for the first time, I can actually begin to share that with her - the crunch of the leaves, trick or treating, the county fair. And before I know it, Thanksgiving and Christmas and snow days and Spring Break and then her birthday and another summer.

I guess my job isn't so terrible after all. The stress of the kids and the parents and the meetings and the added duties and, and, and . . . a summer with Jenny as a reward.

So for my daughter who will still be crabby for another month as she gets used to things, I will try to make the best of the time I will get in the evenings, not dwelling on the things that I am missing out on during the work day, but instead being gloriously happy for the things I do get.

The swingset that made me cry

Three years ago, I never thought I'd ever get to see a swingset in my back yard. Three years ago, I never thought I'd ever hear the giggling laughter of a child as she called out "Mommy, push me higher!" Three years ago, I never thought we'd ever have a child.

But today, my little girl's face lit up the moment she saw the swingset her Daddy has made for her. She ran to it and cried out, "Swing me, Mommy!" And we swung and swung and swung until she noticed the slide and decided she wanted to stop swinging for a moment and "Go Slide Now, Daddy." Three rungs up and my little girl crawled over to the slide and slid down - two little waves and then plop - butt in the dirt - and giggles all around. "Again, again!" and she was up the ladder and across the platform and down. And then the swing again. And after watching her cousin Gabby tackle the rings, Jenny grabbed one in each hand, tugged up her feet and held on for dear life.

And that sweet sound of giggling laughter, like creek water over rocks, filled my heart to the point of tears. Those tears that suddenly rose to my eyes were of pure and simple joy. A prayer come true.

Three years ago, there was no hope for us ever conceiving a child, let alone carrying it to full term.
Now, I have Jenny.
And a swingset in my backyard.

Jenny Dreamed of Trains

It seems John Denver wrote a song for my little girl. I should send him a thank you for giving her a better song than, "Jenny (867-5309)." This is the song and I have just fallen in love with it. It is so very much the way I hoped my daughter would be: a little bit strange, and a little bit magical.

When Jenny was a little girl she only dreamed of trains
She never played with dolls or lacy kinds of things
Jenny counted boxcars instead of countin' sheep
She could go anywhere when she went to sleep

All she ever talked about was gettin' on to ride
She was livin' in another time you could see it in her eyes
Everyday after school she'd head down to the tracks
Waitin' for the train that was never comin' back

Jenny dreamed of trains
When the nighttime came
Nobody knew how she made it come true
Jenny dreamed of trains

The depot's been boarded up, the rails have turned to rush
There hasn't been a train through here since the mill went bust
No one believed her when she said she heard the train
She was just a little girl actin' kinda strange

Jenny dreamed of trains
When the nighttime came
Nobody knew how she made it come true
Jenny dreamed of trains

Jenny laid a penny on the track one day
In God we trust she walked away
The very next mornin' all that she could find
Was a little piece of copper squashed flatter than a dime

Jenny dreamed of trains
When the nighttime came
Nobody knew how she made it come true
Jenny dreamed of trains
Nobody knew how she made it come true
Jenny dreamed of trains

And the rest is silence

In the aftermath of my recent audition, I find the silence in my head this evening to be absolutely refreshing. I'm not rehashing my audition and I'm not preparing for a call back, as I know it will not come. I have learned much from this process and today is good chance to reflect on what exactly I got out of all of this nonsense.

(So pardon me as I ruminate.)

I decided to do this audition about a month ago when a certain person in my life laughed at the sheer possibility of my taking on something so bold. (And no, that person wasn't my husband.) If I didn't still hold such resentment toward this person, I might actually consider thanking him for his rudeness.

After taking such a leap and making the appointment, there were countless opportunities for me to cancel. All I had to do was send an email - so sorry, but I won't be auditioning . . . .thanks anyway - or something along those lines. I'm well practiced at chickening out, so I'm sure I'd have come up with something. But I didn't chicken out this time; I didn't quit.

Even when I knew the choreographer had given up on me, I didn't quit. Even when they told us we'd have to cut our songs down to 12 to 16 bars instead of the 32 I'd prepared, I didn't quit. I survived . . . persevered even . . . maybe.

When I enterred the vocal room and the accompanist actually thanked me for setting up the music the way I did - I felt like I belonged there. And in my mind, I said a silent thank you to my choir mistress for the advice she'd given me. She hadn't held back when giving me notes on how to do this or that and I put each piece of advice to use. I can say I have no regrets about my audition, other than I maybe tried too hard, but who can fault me for that?

It was funny how'd I'd agonized about what I was going to wear for the dance audition - how I'd bought a pair of shoes especially for that and never wore them. (I'll probably take them back to DSW tomorrow - maybe.) When it came down to the dance audition, I never had the chance to change anything but my shoes. I'd been one of the last in my group to do the vocal audition, so I just threw on my tennis shoes and danced in the nice outfit I'd picked out so I'd look professional for the singing part.  By the time I was finished, my face was beautifully flushed, my hair still looked great, and no one could tell I was drenched with sweat underneath it all. I was completely buzzing when I walked out of that audition - not because I thought I'd nailed it, but because I knew that I'd survived with my head up and a cheerleader smile on my face.

I had a great deal of help along the way. If not for the advice I'd gotten from Shawnie and Kim on how to perform and appear professional; if not the for the tiny tidbits I stole from Patrick and Procco and even Huff; if not for the people I met and instantly liked at this audition; if not for the support (that I hadn't even realized I'd needed) from my FB friends and family - I don't think I could've gotten through this.

But I did. I did get through this.

And today everything went back to what it was before. Jenny had a doctor's appointment, so we ate lunch early, napped early and got to the appointment late because I had no gas in my car. And this evening, I'll probably curl up with a book for a few moments before going to bed.

And ever so slowly, I'll go back to the way things were before I decided to fill my every waking moment preparing for a 2 minute vocal audition and a 30 minute dance debaucle. And somewhere after Friday, I'll get an email telling me what I already know - that I was not chosen to play the lead role in this musical. Oh well  - I'll decide - that's really what I wanted anyway.

I've gained so much from this experience though - a rediscovery of someone I used to be inside and that alone was worth it. I'm truly not disappointed in myself. Really.

And the rest is silence . . . .

Ferris Bueller

If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

This audition process has been the strangest and most exciting process so far. And the learning process alongside of it all has just amazed me. I have some really great people around me from whom I have learned so much.

"Let me explain . . . No it's too much . . . let me sum up . . . " (Princess Bride)

A week ago, I had two songs picked out and practiced for this audition on the 17th: Stay With Me and I Don't Know How to Love Him. I had been leaning heavily on the piece from Into the Woods, because I love the musical and thought I could do a really good job with it. So I recorded the piece with my little camera and then decided - what the hell - I'll record the other one as well. I refused to listen to them at first. I was so afraid I would hate them both and chicken out completely.

So I turned to my husband and asked him (since I'd sung them at the top of my lungs - jk) which one he preferred. He liked the one from JCS the best - said it sounded just like the the one on the album and that I should go with it. Plus, he doesn't share my LOVE for ItheW. Go figure.

So I listened to the recordings of both songs and of course, Tim was right. At this point, however, I wasn't convinced. So I took both songs to my choir mistress (I love calling her that) and asked her opinion - mostly so I could get the pieces marked correctly for the accompanist at the audition, but also to see if she'd help me practice with a live instrument. Afterwards, she also said that the JCS piece sounded better and showed off my voice more. I hate when Tim's right - most of the time.

Okay, so I was convinced to change the song. As long as I don't screw up the words, I should be fine. The tone of it sounds good. My choir mistress said I just needed to mind my country twang when I sing it. Mind my country twang? That's all?! I had to laugh. I think I can do that.

So then came the resume and the headshot. The resume wasn't as lacking as I thought it would be. One thing though made me laugh - under "special skills" - I have none. That was a bit of a disappointment until I realized that as teachers we has to dabble in a little of everything, leaving us little time to specialize in anything. So I was tempted to list my special skills as: being a good teacher and a mom. I didn't think that would go over so professionally. oh well...

The headshots were possibly the deal breaker here and almost frightened me away from the whole thing. As much as I love the spotlight, I hate how I look in it. The idea of having a photographer focus completely on me was just uncomfortable at best. I suppose this is why God sent me such great family. My little photographer made it fun and laughed with me instead of staring at me and gave me so much control and say over what and when and how, that I felt almost comfortable with the attention. And the photos she took are amazing. Here's the one I'm going with for the audition - mostly because it's the one that's most how I want to be seen - slightly playful with a mischievous gleam in my eye.

So this week - as I'm trying to stay healthy and un-nervous, I'm going to tweak everything and hope for the best. I guess I should take some time to slow down a little this week, take some time to look around. Who knows what I might miss if I don't?

The Recognition of Fear

"What you get by reaching your
destination is not nearly as
important as what you will become
by reaching your destination."
- Zig Ziglar

I try to keep this particular quote in my brain as I work towards putting the right amount of emotion into the song I've picked out for my audition. I've found myself trying out three other songs, just to see how they feel on my vocal chords. None of them feels quite right.

I've watched the auditions for AGT and AI and most recently the Voice and thought - Oh, if they had just picked the right song, they would've gone farther... And now I'm finding my own sense of self-criticism telling me the same thing. I don't want to be one of those people who doesn't know what her own voice sounds like, one of those who can't choose the right piece of music to fit her voice. Why can't I Google or Bing - What is the perfect piece of music for my voice? - and actually get a straight answer? Oh yeah - that's part of the pressure of an audition. This is why everyone doesn't do something like this. This is why I've never done anything like this before.

It is at this point that I recognize my old friend, the one who has been on my journey since before high school. This friend of mine was there chiding me after every failure, has been saying, "I told you so" for a very long time. And while she's kept me from doing some very stupid things in life, this friend has also stifled my dreams.

I love Langston Hughes:
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore-- And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over-- like a syrupy sweet?  Maybe it just sags like a heavy load. Or does it explode?

Fear, that little friend of mine, has kept me from taking chances. Some, as I said, were for the better - that firefighter I met in college - way out of my league; the pot smoking, flower-man; and driving lessons.

But fear also caused me to sing the National Anthem so high only the dogs could hear; caused me to give up on my dream of being an American Embassador to Russia; caused me to never try out for a single play since high school.

So I guess that leads me back where I started this blog - with four songs ready to go and each equal to another and a decision to make. I love them all, for the different memories associated with each one: a song I'm proud of, a song I love to hear, a song I want, a song that makes me smile.

I suppose I could see this as an immense opportunity - that's what Teresa would tell me - that I have so many choices, none of which is better or worse than another. What a blessing to have so many choices, instead of being stuck with - well, crap - that's the only song I even sound decent singing.

So goodnight then. I'll practice a few bars, then read a little of HP7 (again) and then I'll think of my favorite movie musical - White Christmas - and I'll fall asleep counting my blessings . . . and hope that my friend, that old fear, stays away for a little while longer. 

Stay with Me

In 1988, my mother called me into her room to show me this weird musical that was playing on PBS. Quote: "I think you might like this." It was Into the Woods and I fell in love. A year or so later, I went to my music director at Villa and begged her to do it at the school. I even went so far as to call MTI in NY to find out how much the royalties were. Sister Mary Carole said no.

I followed the musical as much as an Internet-less world would allow. I bought the music book. It would not be much later that I'd had and memorized the entire CD. Then a short ten years later, obtaining the DVD.

Into the Woods was the first major musical I tackled on my own - I say, on my own, but I truly must give credit to the people who helped me through this (as I was 8 months pregnant when we opened). To my husband who built things he didn't fully understand until they were finished and on stage; to my wonderful cousin for painting gorgeous horses for me; to my wonder-make Matt and his symphony of musical mayehm; and for the brown-nosing ability of Alex who tackled every missing piece and made my musical beautiful. To the family and friends and parents who made my musical the ultimate vision of wonder that I imagined. I will be forever grateful for that one experience.

And so I find it rather fitting for my first "brave and crazy" act to be an audition with a song from Into the Woods, called Stay with Me. The song is so fitting, I just hope I can get my voice to do what I want it to do. The witch is trying to convince Rapunzel to stay with her - a mother's desperate cry not to be left alone. It's a tough emotion to show with a nervous voice.

And so I'm working with it now - sheet music (Thank you Kim Z!) that plays itself so I can practice.

I'll keep you posted on my progress, so Stay With Me!

Catharsis and Hillary Swank

This past school year has been incredibly difficult - more difficult I think than I've ever had. There were so many things that went wrong; so many conversations that hurt more than I'd admitted - even to myself; and so much utter failure, I sometimes couldn't breathe. I suppose those are the real reasons I made the changes in my life - seeking control of at least one thing I could control.

This reflection brought me some realizations about how I deal with stress and what stress really does to me. I spent a lot of time reflecting now that the school year is over and I'm no longer directing anything or anyone anymore. There is a gigantic hole, an emptiness, where that job once was. And though, the weight has been lifted from my shoulders and set upon someone elses; though it is no longer my responsiblity, my stressful nights, my mind racing through a dreamless sleep . . . I still find that I miss it terribly. More so, I miss my students in their role and I in mine. Ah well . . . we'll always have Paris, right?

This brings me to a moment of catharsis.

• Catharsis is a Greek word meaning "cleansing", "purging". It is derived from the infinitive verb of transliterated as kathairein "to purify, purge," and adjective katharos "pure or clean."

One day last week, while my darling daughter slept, I laughed and cried for two and a half straight hours. And afterwards, felt the better for it. Through all of this past year, I hadn't cried - not even once. I pushed through and kept going - the show must go on and all that jazz. But for two and a half hours, I got everything out.

Mind you, I hadn't sought catharsis. It just found me. I was just watching a movie so I could finally return it to my mother, from whom I'd borrowed it during first trimester when a student in my film class wanted to do her analysis paper on it. I suppose I had forgotten how wonderful chick flicks can be for that kind of theraputic release.

So thank you Hillary Swank and thank you P.S. I Love You - for helping me to find clarity through the emotional purge.

Seven Signs you've made the right decision

Today was Jenny's first day with Miss Sarah and Baby Wyatt.

Tonight, we saw the signs that we'd made a good decision.

1. Jenny didn't run right to me as soon as I arrived. While I loved this when it happened at the day care, I didn't really grasp that maybe this wasn't such a good thing. In the past weeks, Jenny had cried when we left her at day care. Today, she really didn't get upset. And so when I arrived, Jenny still seemed comfortable with the situation and the place - enough to stall putting on her shoes and leaving Miss Sarah in peace.

2. Jenny's behavior upon returning home was less violent today than it had been in the past. Usually our evenings are plagued with temper tantrums and hitting. Tonight - not so much.

3. One fuss after night-night.

4. I felt at peace. I got to come home, put my things away and take two moments for myself - just to breathe - before I went to get her. Those few moments allowed me to savor the minutes of playtime I had with her tonight. It gave me energy and patience to roll the ball back and forth with Jenny. It's so strange to have just three minutes make such an impact on the night.

5. Jenny came home expressing more words and she's only spent a day with Miss Sarah. When asked where we were today, Jenny said - clear as day - Mommy's at work or Daddy's at work or (even) Pawpaw's at work.

6. Jenny had no cookies today, no cheetoes, no chips. Today, my daughter ate healthy for the first weekday in months. Instead of filling her full of salt and sugar and stupid foods, my Jenny actually ate well today. Not perfect, because Mommy's still trying to figure out how to cook in a time crunch, but better - much better.

7. Despite Jenny's usual misgivings about change, she slept for 3 hours today during nap. One fuss - a reassurance from Miss Sarah - and she was out for three hours!

All day today, in the back of my mind, beneath all the other crud I was sifting through today, I had feared that I was going to find an incredibly ornery child when I picked her up. I worried that Miss Sarah would tell me she'd changed her mind, that I was going to have to return Jenny to that day care. I was terrified we'd have to go looking for yet another day care.

Instead, I got a picture that Jenny had colored, not one her teacher had done for her.
I got a detailed report on how Jenny's day had gone, instead of just the word - "fine"
I learned that Jenny actually ate blackberries today. And liked them, too
Jenny was incredibly helpful today, protective of Wyatt even, and so very gentle too.

Oh . . . and my child is a genius - that one I already knew, but it's nice to hear again.

And though I know that every day cannot and will not be like today. I know that there will be days when Jenny tries to push Wyatt down the stairs (hope not, but it could happen). I know there will be times when Jenny's just a booger because she's feeling sick or tired or hungry or is just have the toddler form of PMS.
I know her days will not always be perfect and I'm okay with that.

Because I think back to her first day of day care this year - when she fell down the concrete steps and face planted. When they didn't call me to tell be about it, because it "didn't show up until after her nap". I remember then thinking that this was a bad idea.

But this - today - felt nothing like that. Today, it felt . . . good.

Memorial Day Weekend - Remember me, O God.

This past weekend has been one of reminders - things I'm supposed to remember and keep with me.

While this weekend is supposed to remind me to appreciate the freedom I have, to thank the soldiers that died and still die for it everyday, I choose to take this weekend to remind myself to thank them everyday I wake up, not just this weekend. And that if it were possible, we should throw a parade in every town every day that we are safe in our beds, our churches, and our schools.

Several of my seniors are going off to join the military and while I know that they fight for that freedom, I hope that our freedom will not come at the cost of their lives. I promise to remember to keep them in my prayers.

This weekend, I remember the lost children - the ones we lose to abortion, to ignorance, and to miscarriage - the ones we lose for no reason. I promise to remember to keep them in my prayers.

This weekend, I remember that in sickness and in health, 'til death do us part, means much more than dishes and dirty diapers. And I remember that marriages are not about being perfect, but just being there. No matter how insane we go or how lost we become. I promise to remember to keep it in my prayers.

This weekend, I remember that structure is often times a good thing to pursue, but a difficult thing to maintain. I promise to remember to keep her and us in my prayers.

This weekend, I remember to take care of myself. That daughter of ours needs both of her parents for a very long time. I remember to take better care of myself. At least I'll try.

And I promise to remember to keep myself in my prayers.

This weekend, I remember that sometimes prayers ARE answered in the miracles around us every day - a sunny day, a small miracle, a daughter's laughter.

Dear God,

There are so many people in this world who are in need of your prayers tonight and tomorrow and always. Watch over us all and keep us safe tonight. . . . and remember me too. Please help me to remember you always.

Love,

Me

Air Conditioning and Advil

Tonight, there will be no sound - no tossing and turning, no constant whir of fan blades as they slice through thick moist air. There will be only the sweet sound of snoring - a rarity in these last few weeks, when the threat of summer suffocation and the anxiety of another storm have plagued our nights.

On this night, the sound of the distant train doesn't seem so close. On this night, the fear of a rough storm doesn't shake us. And on this night, the stresses of the day seem to evaporate.

Tonight, there will be rest for all.

We have air conditioning tonight, so we will be able to sleep without the threat of dehydration via endless drippage.

And Jenny, who is cutting more teeth, has her Advil to keep her painfree for six to eight hours - long enough to make it to Dreamland where she can ignore the achiness of her new teeth.

And because we can close the windows tonight, Jenny will not hear the stupid dogs, or the loud radio, or the train whose whistle echoes in the valley below. And Tim and I will not hear the once peaceful tinkling of the windchimes in the back yard.

Tonight, we shall sleep the peaceful sleep of men and women everywhere who have acheived that heavenly state of giddiness that preceded all out exhaustion.

For now, good night . . . See you in the morning.

Keeping it together when you're ready to pop

This has been one of the longest weeks of my life and it's only Tuesday.

One of my seniors popped today - she's worried about next year and being able to make friends. I hope I defused that situation. I asked her if she'd felt the same when she was about to start high school. When she said yes, I asked her what she would've told herself back then if she'd known then what she knows now. I hope it helped. At this point, I'm still not sure

Yesterday when I tried to defuse a situation, I ended up being called a douche. I explained to this accelerated student in no certain terms and with a slight Southern accent that it wasn't appropriate to call one's teacher a douche and that she should never do it again. Did I write her up - why bother? She's accelerated and will probably cry when she's confronted.

Today, I collected the sonnets this same class is writing for a poetry slam - something kinda fun for the last two days of school. Their sonnets had to be about a person. One particular student wrote about me. How I pushed him and crushed him and how his friend got a 100% on his summer reading project and I had failed his. After all he had thought he'd rocked it. And then in the end of this poem, I was dead.

The poem has really thrown me - truly. I'm not particularly sure why it's affected me so much, but it did.

Which is where my daughter today taught me a valuable lesson.

I was explaining to Tim about my day and how angry I was, how hurt I felt, and how tired I have become in these two days. Jenny was sitting there eating. Suddenly, she threw her spoon at me - her way of telling me she was angry - and then she hit me.

Jenny, it seems, had thought I was angry with her and had reacted in her own little toddler way.

It was at this point that I realized what was really important about this day. I had let those little boogers affect my night. I then took her oversized bib in my hands and started playing peek-a-boo with her. That little laughter worked itself into a small flame and then into a flickering fire.

Ya' see - it doesn't really matter if I declare their poetry slam over, their exam cancelled and their year done. It won't matter if I throw a temper tantrum and yell at them. They will not care if I stop talking to them and just put in Disney movies for the next five days.

To them, I am nothing.

But to Jenny, I am everything. And that's what matters. She is what matters.

There are bad days and then there was today . . .

This was given to me today by one of my seniors and I can't help but share it as a reminder that sometimes . . . there is a reason.

Dear Mrs. Ring,

I express myself best through writing so this letter is the result.
I'd like to thank you for four wonderful years. I've learned alot from you an you've made them memorable.
Thank you for creating an atmosphere in your classroom in which I've always felt accepted and included despire my many quirks (& thanks for tolerating them.)
Thank you for encouraging my passion for the English language. Should I follow the educational path, I think I'd like to be like you.
Thank you for helping me find my voice through your drama classes. Singing for a crowd was just a dream, because I never had the opportunity or the courage for it. Now I know that I DO have the courage and thank you for helping me realize that.
Thank you for ruining every horror movie I'll ever see by teaching me symbolism. I'll have fun being the obnoxious know-it-all who ruins it for all her friends, too -
And finally thank you for challenging me. I don't remember ever having an "A" in your class that I didn't have to consciously maintain. With so many teachers just letting student slip by for minimal work, it's refreshing to have to try. I value that greatly in a teacher, so thank you, thank you and thank you again.
You're the teacher that I'll tell my kids about. I hope you realize how valuable you are.


Sometimes this albatross is rendered speechless by the beautiful voice of a dove. Thank you CM.

To begin . . .

In the beginning there was darkness - ten years of darkness to be exact.

For ten years, we awaited our little angel. We hoped and prayed and put ourselves through some of the toughest moments of our marriage. And yet, we had nothing to show for it.Now there is a list of things - rotten, no good very bad things - that people in our situation can hear. There is a list - a long list - of terrible emotions that we went through, moments of doubt and hours of sadness and eons of fear.

But that is not what this blog is about...

This blog is about what happens after all the despair is washed away.
This blog is about what happens when you finally get the thing you always wanted.
This blog is about the end result of HOPE.