The Shiny Sticker

As is my new school-evening routine, I head straight for the backpack and whip open his blue “beary special” folder to behold the shiny sticker, confirmation that we are still on track. Today, there is no sticker! As my heart falls completely to the floor, I remove a two page (one page, front and back) note from my dear friend, Kim. It starts out so innocent “Hey Girl”, immediately taking a negative turn to “we experienced much frustration today”. I can still feel my insides turning over and over as my heart sinks deeper and deeper into my stomach. The note, written as sweetly and delicately as possible, goes on to describe multiple episodes throughout Caleb’s day. I want to cry, I want to hide, I want to disappear, but I just keep reading. He is such a precious child, but when he is upset or frustrated, nothing is off limits. I am sickened by Kim’s gentle description of the events and at this point, I don’t even know what to say to him. Where do we go from here? It was all hours ago, which might as well be days ago to a five-year-old. So, after several deep breaths and more “help me Jesus cries”, I ask Caleb about his day. “It was fine.” What do you say to a kindergartener who thinks a two-page-note-kind-of-day was “fine”?

We talk about calling our friends names, (which by the way was the least of his offenses today) and how it makes them feel. In full Caleb-style, he turns his face from me and refuses to talk or acknowledge my presence. This is my least favorite part of being a mom. So, we’re off to the corner where “you will sit until you’re ready to talk to me about this. You are not in trouble for your day, but you are in trouble for being disrespectful to me”. I have been dealing with this for five minutes today and I’m exhausted from it. I am horrified for Kim as she got all seven hours of it! After a “short” reflecting period, Caleb “is ready to talk about it.”

He didn’t mean to call his friend a name and knows it hurt his feelings; he is so sorry. But he DID NOT kick mulch on Ms. Pantall, she is “not right” but yet she’s “not lying” to me either. The conversation goes on for what seems like eternity, but is in reality probably only about 5 minutes. We discuss all the incidents and why they cannot happen again and end on a note of “tomorrow is going to be a great day again!”

I say that to him with such surety, such a positive attitude, such determination, but I cannot help but wonder what it will really be like. I wish I could be in his little head to figure out exactly what it is that causes him to believe this is all okay. Don’t get me wrong, he isn’t out there abusing anyone or calling them really nasty names, but we’re not measuring the “level” of disrespect, its disrespect and disregard in any form that isn’t acceptable.

My sweet friend ends her summation of the day with “we will work through this and it will be okay, do not worry”. She is a blessing; I again thank God we are in her class. What would we do without her? Thank goodness she is not the faint at heart and that we have such a great partner in this journey. There is a long road ahead and success will be measured by many different milestones, but the first and foremost is hoping that tomorrow brings another shiny sticker!

What is that Stuff Falling From the Sky?

I just walked back in from an appointment and the craziest thing happened to me! There were large drops of moisture falling from the sky...WHAT IS THAT? Just wondering if anyone else has had such an experience and if they might be able to assist me in identifying the cause.

The Happy Place

Have you ever lost your happy place? How do they just slip away sometimes? Why do we tend to roll over and bask in to the gloom and doom at times? How do you get back to happy, when you loose it? How do you find that happy place again?

I packed my sweet husband up and sent him off with his friends for the weekend hoping he'll find his. We've been married almost 10 years (seriously, we're like 3 weeks shy of it so in all honesty, 10 years)...that sometimes feels like 2 and often feels like 50. Neither of those are a bad thing. Our lives are really busy and while we can usually roll along with it and keep it together, sometimes only by the seams, every once in a while, it just gets to be too much.

If you don't know, he works the mid-night shift as a patrol officer in Brentwood, "The Bubble" as we call it. While there really isn't too terrible much "excitement" in the bubble, the hours alone are more than enough to pile on a huge amount of tension and stress especially when you add on the hectic schedule that our kiddos keep. He's lucky to hit the sack by 9:00 and kids start coming in the door by 3:00 so that's 6 hours on a good day (when there's no court, no meeting, no dogs barking at the mail man, etc). I don't get too much more than that myself, but I don't spend 9 -10 hours a night in a car all by myself in the middle of the night either (this is where we ignore the gun and potential danger, for my sanity's sake). The past several weeks and possibly months have been exceptionally...how should we put it, busy, which leads to tense for sleepy parents. I had some "minor" surgery this past May which used up my vacation time for this summer so we've not had a chance to escape the chaos and catch a little downtime at all this year. So, when the opportunity for a weekend away arose, I was the first one to vote "yes" to the trip!

He'll be home sometime tomorrow, hopefully with that smile and sparkle back in is eyes. I'm not sure where his happy place is exactly, but here's hoping that it's somewhere between Spring Hill and Bristol.

The Last First Day

Today was Caleb's first day of kindergarten!! He was so excited; I was so excited...not really, but it sounded good didn't it? I was nervous; I am nervous. You're thinking to yourself "she's had two other boys head off to kindergarten, what is the big deal?" and that is the same thing I thought to myself at least a million times. The big deal is two-fold, the big deal is that this really is my baby, my last baby; I'll never walk into the doors again for the first day of kindergarten. While that is almost a relief, it's completely bittersweet. This is my baby, my sweet, sweet baby whom I love with all my heart; the one Chris tells me is my favorite...he isn't my favorite, he's my baby and unless you have one of your own, you won't understand. The baby is the one that you try to hold onto because it's the last time you'll get to do it, whatever it is. The baby is the one that you dress in "baby clothes" a little bit longer because you just aren't ready for him to grow up, he's the one that you let sleep in your bed with you even though you'd have never let the other two because they needed to "grow up". He's the baby, not the favorite.

Well, it just so happens that my baby also has some major struggles; struggles that we work hard on every day. These struggles are what make up the rest of the big deal.

I have prayed for a year, literally, for his teacher this fall. I have prayed that the Lord would carefully choose a teacher for him that would encourage him, and love him as he is, someone who would understand him, see him for who he can be and would help us in this journey. We sat on the carpet this morning listening to my third reciting of THE KISSING HAND as Ms. Pantall read aloud and I batted back the tears that are welling up in my eyes again and choked down the knot that has once again appeared in my throat as I thought of the His faithfulness. We are once again in Kim Pantall's class; Kim loves each of the children who walk in her door as if they were her very own. My baby couldn't be in better hands. I turn my thoughts back to the fact that this is my baby, my last one, my big boy, my little man. How did he get so big so fast? When exactly did this happen? I take the time to cherish this last trip to the rug on the first day of kindergarten, I thank God that we can be there, that He has blessed us with these three precious boys and again feel the flood gates begin to open. At exactly the last dry second, Kim announces that it's now time for moms and dads to give our kissing hands and say goodbye. Ask any of my kids, I'm the first one out the door. It isn't because I don't want to be there, it's because the bravery has lasted as long as it can. A quick hug and a kiss and we're on our way. Chris doesn't say anything, just reaches over to hold my hand probably in effort to seal the dam before it broke; I'm sure it had nothing to do with his own feelings (and I didn't look, because I couldn't).

In the safety of my car, I made all the necessary phone calls to let everyone know he was successfully into his first day and then spent hours doing things to keep my mind off of it. In reality, it would have been easier to spend my drive to work sobbing my eyes out and getting over it because it has hung around all day!!

I picked him up at 1:30 and he bounced right into the car. Caleb had a great day, a really great day today...maybe by next week, mom will too.

Fifty is Down-Right Fabulous!

As with every good rule, regulation and in my case, ban, a loop-hole exists. It has been located and exercised in the Woodard sports ban. It appears that cross country at Heritage Middle School requires very little parent participation. Last year, Derek wished he had tried out and this year, he remembered that desire and not only did he try out, but he made the team. My responsibility to date has been to write the check for the fee, assist in the selection of a good pair of running shoes, pick him up after practice once, set the alarm for Chris to wake up to pick him up at 3:45 for the other practices (Tuesdays and Wednesdays only) and now, cheer him on during his first meet.

I remember Marisa and I were on the cross country team for approximately 20 minutes our freshman year in high-school. That is when I realized anyone participating in this sport must have something wrong with them. Who in their right mind would willingly and happily run out onto a 1.5 mile path over and over and over again? Apparently, my son and 103 others crazy kids from Heritage, Page, Woodland and Poplar Grove. Would you believe that I couldn't find a parking place when I got there to watch him? This was the first of my awing moments. The next and most impressive being that the meet started at 4:35 and by 5:00, Derek had busted out his mile-and-a-half, claimed the 50th position, rounded out the top five for his team and we were in the car on the way home. Now, that is a time-frame I can live with!!

I might think he's crazy for willingly putting himself through such misery, but I couldn't have been more proud. It is was great that he finished in the top half and I was thrilled that he made the top 5 for his team, but nothing was better than him crossing that finish-line and being proud of himself. Way to go D; fifty is down-right fabulous!

The Energizer Bunny

You might not realize it, but you are looking at the energizer bunny here...Murry D. Reeves, aka, Grandaddy. Think about all the things that you could have seen in 91 years. How many things could have changed and how many things have come and gone in that period of time. My sweet grandaddy, known as "Chief" to my boys and my Daddy, is celebrating his 91st birthday today. The picture is actually from his 90th birthday last year when we all surprised him in Mississippi and everyone spent the weekend together. Looking at it today, only his "thickness" has changed well, that and the fact that he doesn't wear his glasses anymore because this whipper-snapper had eye surgery about 6 weeks ago and doesn't need them any more. Can you imagine?

I ran by this morning to see Grandaddy and drop off the official birthday card and cupcake and found him working in the yard sporting his famous brown leather shoes, tan socks (up to his knees of course), khaki shorts and white undershirt...the cutest thing in the world I tell you! He doesn't move as fast as he used to, but he's not missing a step or cancelling any "dates". Mom called today to take him to lunch and of course, he was already booked; she had to settle for dropping by to say hello and a bite of watermelon. This is the 91-year-old who takes the "old folks" from church to the grocery store. I think he's like the energizer bunny...he just keeps going and going and going.

There is a quote by ole Abe himself that says "Its not the number of years in your life, but the life in your years that counts." We'll, there's more life in these 91 years than most of us have in 91 days but I believe that once you reach these milestones, it's okay to start counting the years too.

The First 30 Minutes

As a child, I was a early riser and it was usually very easy to get out of bed and start my day regardless of the time that I finished the prior day. My dad's alarm would go off downstairs and I'd be awake waiting to hear him call me or I might be walking downstairs already. This of course wasn't every morning, but the standard. A far cry from my dear sister who would never get up and often had to be drug out of bed and then serenaded by my mother's specially composed song "Put a Smile on Your Face". She is probably shuttering at the mere words, but the words alone don't do it justice. The shrill and the accent and the pronunciation and the lack of melodic sound...there is no real way for me to demonstrate it for you and honestly, you'd rather not hear it. It was, by far, the most horrific song ever written. I shiver at the thought of it today and it was never belted (and that is how it is performed) my direction.

I go into all of this not to bash my sister's inability to remove herself from her covers as a child or my mother's lyrical abilities, but because I've been reminded of all those childhood mornings this entire week as we've tried to get back into the routine from summer break.

Chris is at work when the alarms start going off at the Woodard house so he is completely unaware of the chaos that ensues when the dawn rings in. That screeching from my blackberry begins at 5:30, I remember it sounding so cheerful when I picked it for the alarm. By 5:45, I'm stumbling over sleeping dogs and tripping over the darting cat (who is wailing at me to feed her) to get to Derek to bring him back from the depths of his comatose sleep (and I promise, he is comatose). Usually, he will get up, but there are mornings that he needs a little extra encouragement. After a "quick" shower, I'm back to tripping over dogs to relive the episodes of the Loftin household as I try and get Russell B to join us. I must admit that on rare occasion, I’ve had to use the song. That child loves his sleep! Caleb will either come to the party on his own, or we'll dress him in his sleep (remember, kindergarten has yet to begin for him so he's still safe) and plop him in the car on our way out the door.

At this point the full-fledge-mad-dash is on and it's a free-for-all..."Don't forget to brush your teeth...wait, did you eat anything?", "Mom, do you know where any socks are?" "Derek, there is deodorant in your drawer for a reason and it isn't just so you can look at it", "Lunches are in the fridge", "Don't forget I've got practice today after school, pick me up at 3:45.", "Did we sign everything that needed to be signed?" "Russ, take the dogs out", "Have you seen my blue shoes?" "When you get home this afternoon, you had better clean your room"...and the list goes on and on and on, but you totally get the idea. It is 55 minutes of pure and total chaos. Maybe we should try to begin this regimen earlier, but seriously, 5:00 is just too early for me and that's all there is too it. By 6:35 Derek is on his way to the bus and we're getting in the car...us, the lunch boxes, the back-packs, the occasional breakfast-on-the-go and hopefully, our sanity. This is when it all runs well...when it doesn't, it isn't pleasant for any of us. The mornings that it isn’t pleasant is honestly the point of this entire entry.

Dale Thomas, www.winnersbychoice.com, shared some incredible insight with me today and I'm passing it along to you because it could possibly change all of our lives. She said "everything that goes into your mind in the first thirty minutes of your day determines the outlook and productivity of the entire rest of your day"! That is astounding...imagine what we could empower our children with as they begin their day, imagine what we could do differently if we began our day better? I look back in horror at the things that have been said in our house on those "not-so-perfect-mornings"...we were all doomed from the get-go. So, I'm challenging you to party it up in the morning...turn the radio up loud, dance and sing, get excited about your day and what it's going bring. Claim the day in the Lord's honor and make it great...make it great in the first 30 minutes!