Wednesday, May 31, 2017

You Know It's Hard, Right? (Part Two)

When I joined running club, I had a goal completion time set for the 5K: under 37 minutes.  I've never completed one that fast.  When I "ran" a 5K in April, it took me over 42 minutes to complete it, this was the same amount of time it took me the year before, when I hadn't trained at all.  This time, I had trained for five weeks.  My first short-term goal was to complete it in under 40 minutes.   This happened Monday:

I've been thinking about next steps after running club ends.  There is a Wednesday running session.
Liam takes classes at Laid-Back Fitness.  After talking to one of the women who work there, I decided to start taking classes over the summer to train for an obstacle course race in September.  Liam, aware of my decision, asked on the way to class, "Aren't you taking classes, too?"
     "Yes, over the summer."
     "You know it's hard, right?"
     "Are you questioning me?"
     "Of course not, you're the mama..... But, seriously, it's challenging."

While I worry about Liam's anxiety, how he will manage it as an adult, and how much anxiety is a healthy amount, I must focus on his growth mindset.  One of his largest developments this year is his ability to keep trying.  He's turning into a pretty amazing little dude.

Yes, the classes will be hard.  I am strong, but lack the upper-body strength to do pull-ups or cross monkey-bars.  I can jog for longer periods of time, but I am still not fast.  The thought of running four miles between obstacles sounds daunting, but I know I will get there.  I have to; Liam is watching.

You Know It's Hard, Right?

Ever see the movie Twins?  We often joke that Liam is the Danny DeVeto character.  While he inherited many of our best attributes, he also managed to get so many of our quirks.  Foe example, he managed to get my perfectionism with Mike's lack of urgency.  In Liam's world, it needs to be just right and perfect...when he gets to it.  After asking him several times to put away his special smelly markers, I started putting them away.  He rolled his eyes, ran over and put them Roy G Biv order.

He has Mike's ability to read people and make friends with anyone.  He could grow up to be a lawyer, politician, or used car salesman.  He loves to learn and read.  He can be incredibly thoughtful.

He has all of these amazing qualities.  I worry that he has my anxiety.  I don't bring up anxiety or past issues.  They're in the past for a reason.  It's taken forty years, but I am finally pretty good at hiding and managing my anxiety.  He gets so upset with himself when he messes up or does something wrong, no matter how many times we tell him him it is okay to make mistakes.  He worries about so many things.  He is already worried about leaving for college, asking once every month or so if it is okay if he stays home when he goes to college.

His worrying makes me worry.  When is his worrying something for me to worry about?  Will he grow up replaying conversations in his head, worrying if he said something wrong or was something taken the wrong way?  How much will his fear of failure prevent him from living life to the fullest?

I love who this boy is becoming.  I just want to make sure that he gets the support and assurance he needs.

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

Failing Foward and Setting Goals

I can't believe that I let a year pass between entries.  
One of my goals has been to better use my time.  I go into work early to make sure that I am ready when my kids arrive.  This also helps me avoid the height of rush hour traffic in the morning.  I'd rather be accomplishing things at school than sitting in traffic. Anyway, I've been putting a lot of thought and effort into who I want to be.  Maybe it is a midlife crisis?  

I started to think about the things I want to accomplish and the person I want to be. This required me to create a plan to reach these goals.  Here's a glimpse at my progress:

 In 2016, I set a reading goal to read fifteen books.  I came up one short, needing to create a plan to reach this goal this year.  I set the same goal for this year.  In May, I am already more than halfway there.  I've been carrying my Kindle in my purse so I can read during down times that would usually be spent mindlessly surfing my phone.  

I have always wanted to be a runner.  I loved the idea of running.  In fact, running is the only thing I've ever actually tried at and failed.  (There are plenty of things I cannot do, such as dancing, that I cannot do.  However, I've never tried to be a dancer.)  I've started the Couch 2 5 K program more times than I care to admit.  I joined a beginner's runner group.  This combined two of my anxiety triggers: meeting new people and public failure.  I'm about to complete Week Eleven, which requires both 18 and 20-minute stretches of running.  The goal is to be able to run a 5K.  I am so proud of myself for sticking with it.  I'm currently creating a plan to maintain my hard work.  I'm finally to run, I mean jog.  I don't want to loose momentum.  

My last goal is to spend more time writing.  So much of my life is documented in journals; I want to keep going into my adulthood.  Liam takes ninja skills classes at a local gym.  I've been bringing my Kindle and reading of bringing my laptop and completing schoolwork while he is climbing and completing obstacle courses.  I made the decision to start writing again during this time.  It gives me an hour or so to get out my thoughts and reflect.  I'd like to continue doing this.  

I hope that it doesn't come off as conceited sharing these thoughts.  I am quite proud of what I have accomplished and hoped to achieve even more in the future.  I am incredibly lucky to have a husband who supports my endeavors and watching Liam while I'm out and about. 

Sunday, February 21, 2016

New Normal?

It has been five years since my mom passed.  Five. This year marked my sixth birthday and holiday season without her.  It's amazing that I still struggle to find my new normal.  Every year, something happens that digs in and reminds that there is a time of my life to which I can never return.  That part of my life has been boxed up and passed on.  The last house I lived in with my parents was sold and remodeled, looking unrecognizable.  Most of the pictures are 1,500 miles away. The artwork and awkward projects have been long lost in various moves.  

The breakdown happens every year.  After five years, I am able to control it and really make it mine.  The tear works that erupted without warning now know how to contain themselves until the moment is right.  Five years ago, I ran into another room to break down because someone changed the channel off of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, something we watched every year at my house.  Eagerly, we would wait to see our favorite pop stars glide through the cold weather.  I marveled at the marching bands, wishing that my parent's budget allowed music lessons.  On the first Thanksgiving without my mom, I needed to watch that parade.  However, I felt silly vocalizing this need.  Crying in the bedroom seemed a much saner choice.  

For the first five New Years Eves as a mother, I fell asleep before the ball dropped, sometimes fifteen minutes before the new year began.  Last year, I managed to stay awake.  And, for the first time ever, my mom didn't call to wish me a happy new year.  This year, I vowed to stay awake as well.  About twenty minutes before midnight, a bit in my stomach formed.  This was another year that would begin without a call from my mom.  I was ready to run upstairs and force myself to fall asleep.  That's the thing about the new normal; you never know when it will sneak up on you.  

I've come to understand that this breakdown is a new normal in my holiday preparations.  It surfaces several times throughout the season.  However, after my rookie year, I've learned to control it and release when the right time allows.  This year, I waited until I was wrapping gifts.  My mom never wrapped everything in the stocking.  I always swore that, when I was in charge of stockings, everything would be wrapped.  I've lived to regret this decision.  I am also aware that giving up wrapping everything would provide a victory for my mother.  Every from the grave, I cannot allow that.  

A dear friend of mine lost her mom this year.  In one of our conversations, I told her that it never really gets easier, you just adjust to your new normal.  It is different for everyone.  For me, my first round of holidays without my mom was also my first round of holidays with my son.  While it was difficult, new life made it easier to transition to that new reality.  However, the overwhelming urge to run to another room for a quick cry still hits at the oddest of moments.  

Wednesday, December 16, 2015

Being Present

A few nights ago, Mike and I tried to keep a conversation going with Liam at dinner.  Some nights, conversation is easy.  In fact, we can barely get a word in ourselves.  This was not one of those nights.
  "How was school?"
  "What center did you choose?"
   "How was Tumble Bus?"
   "Did you get a gummy bear at the end?"
   "What color did you get?"
   "What's your favorite activity?"
   "Monkey bars."
   "What does Lukey like?"
    "The slide."
   Finally, I got a bite while inquiring about Tumble Bus, an activity offered through his school.
   "Liam, do you do activities or does everyone do their own thing?"
   His eyes lit up.  "We do a really fun activity! Miss Amanda says our names and then we say, 'here.'"
   Mike and I looked at each other.  We were paying $25 a month for Liam to enjoy attendance.  "This is your favorite activity? Are you sure that it's an activity?"
    "Uh-huh.  Miss Amanda calls me and I say, 'here.'  Then she calls Luke and Luke says, 'here.'"
     Really?  $400 a year for Tumble Bus and his favorite activity is attendance? "Liam, I think what Miss Amanda is doing is taking attendance."
    My five year old rolled his eyes at me.  "No, she jots everything down in a notebook."  At this point, Mike and I were laughing.

   I giggled at my son's misconstrued views of attendance, comparing it to children who play with the boxes of their toys.  As the days passed, I thought about the idea of being present.  As autonomy develops, I become more and more protective of his "bubble."  The days of parental control reigning over almost every moment of his day are numbered.  He may get to choose whether he eats an apple of a banana, which shoes he wears to school, or which toys to entertain himself with in his room.  However, adults control the majority of his daily life.  We take him to school, swim lessons, and play dates.  We provide him with three pairs of school shoes, various character shirts, and (mostly) healthy sweets while preventing him from drinking soda and full octane juice.

   That simple act of attendance on Tumble Bus allows his to be present.  He gets to announce that he is present and ready for new adventures.  How nice with it be if we were allowed that opportunity more often.  As always, I am thinking about how this relates to my students.  How do I allow my students to be present? Sometimes, it is as simple as asking them to take a break, stand up, and say hello to classmates.  I stand at the door to greet my students with high fives and fist pumps as they enter my classroom.  Thanks to our new blended learning model, students get to decide how they learn, navigating their way through playlists on Power Points, articles, videos, and practice exercises.  In a world of limited autonomy, how do I truly give my students, and my son, a voice?

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Three is a Magic Number

While I was pregnant, a coworker told me that each age would be my favorite.  So far, this has proven true.  When Liam was an infant, he was my favorite form of entertainment.  I could watch him for hours.  He fascinated me.  I loved the months when I snuggled my squishy baby.  I loved watching him toddle around and re-explore our world, as if seeing it for the first time. 

 I may be in the minority, but three has been my favorite age.  There are many reasons my three year old is my favorite:

* He still loves to snuggle.  When he is worried, tired, or upset, he squishes himself onto my lap and lets me rock him.  I know the time will come when he will not fit in my lap.  I savor these moments.

* He can communicate.  He can tell me if he feels good or yucky,  happy or sad.He can tell me if he wants a cereal bar or fruit snacks.  He can tell he if his neck or ears hurt.  He asks for a snack before his hunger makes him grumpy. 

* We can go anywhere easily.  I very rarely need to bring the big diaper bag.  I keep some fruit snacks and a fruit pouch in my purse and call it good.  I donated our stroller to Sandy relief last fall.  We walk to the playground, walk through the aquarium and the zoo, and through the mall.  Liam is easy to travel with these days. 

* He believes everyone in the world is good.  I fear the day when he learns the truth, that not all people are always nice.  Right now, he is nice to everyone and everyone is nice to him.  Since he expresses interest in churches, I took him the Barnes and Nobel to buy him his first Bible.  He took the story of David and Goliath  out of context.
    "Who's that?"
    "That's David."
    "He's throwing rocks.  We don't throw rocks.  He should go to 'No Thank You.'"
  I didn't know how to tell him that David was the hero of the story.  That David was justified in hitting Goliath with the rock because Goliath was mean.  I didn't know how to tell him that sometimes it's okay to throw rocks at people.  I let him continue:
     "David left his rocks on the ground.  We should pick them up so nobody trips over them.  We can put them int he pond."

The story of Jesus and the beggar confused him.  "He has a boo boo.  Did he fall down?"  I didn't know how to begin explaining to him that his fellow man did this to him.   "Jesus is going to help him," I avoided the question.  The world can be a scary place.  My three year old doesn't need to learn that just yet.

* He makes friends everywhere.  The coffee shop, Target, the supermarket, the playground, and the library are all places for him to make friends.  If he has a Thomas, a funny hat, or a ball, he has a starting point to create a friendship.  Once he's established a bond, he will tell his new friend everything.
  "My grammie's name is Bee.  Just Bee."
  "My daddy makes boats and my mommy's a teacher."
  "I have a hat on.  It has a yellow ball on top."
Someday, he will learn that making friends isn't always this easy.  I treasure this moment while I can.

* He loves to help.  He has to help clean, make the bed, shovel snow, pick up.  His teacher told me he is one of the best students when it comes to helping clean up.  He knows to only make one mess at a time and will clean up his blocks before taking out his cars.  It makes me happy.


* Mommy and Daddy are magic. 
   "That lighthouse isn't working.  My daddy will fix it.  He will bring his tools."
   Mommy's kisses fix everything.  There have been a few instances that liam requests ice instead of kisses.  I know those will be requested more as time goes on but I love that kisses fix boo boos for now. 

* He is silly and has a great sense of humor.  My kid is hilarious!  We make up games.  Our current favorite could be called "Are you a chicken?"    It started after reading the Sandra Boynton book by the same name.  I will ask Liam, "Are you a chicken?"
   "Are you a penguin?"
This goes on a few rounds until he chooses an animal he would like to be.  When I ask, he will randomly start making that sound.
    "Are you a bee?"
    "Buzzzzzzzzzzz," he giggles.  We make a few more animal sound then he takes over.  "Hey, Mommy,  are you a dinosaur?"
    "Are you a cow?"
   This is hilarious.  I promise. 

* He finds humor in everything.  Last night, we played trains.  He let me be Thomas.  Anyone with a toddler knows this is the equivalent of a marriage proposal to the three year old.  As we pushed Thomas around the track, Liam would block his way with pieces of his play kitchen and blocks. 

This is rolling on the floor funny. 
* His logic is easy.  We've been giving him a few more responsibilities now that he is getting older.  He helps set and clear the table.  He helps sweep.  While teaching him to get himself dressed, he announced "I don't want to be three!"
   "You have to be three; you ate your birthday cake."
   "Oh, okay."  He continued putting on his own shirt.

* He is innocent.  Someone was shocked when Mike said Liam had a Thomas cake.  "He's still into Thomas?"  While Liam knows who Spiderman is, he's never watched Spiderman.  He knows who Superman is to point him out, but has never seen any of these action heroes in action.  He knows that Spiderman swings from building to building and saves people, but he doesn't know what he saves them from.  For now, I want Liam to think the worst thing that happen is Thomas being "up there" or Victor falling into the sea (and promptly being saved). 

* He has intuition.  While making Valentines, we made one for our neighbor, who lost his wife last summer.  As we walked over to deliver the Valentine, Liam told me we were bringing it because he didn't feel well.  I tried to tell him Valentines were for people we love, he insisted this was because he didn't feel well.  "Why doesn't he feel well?" I finally asked.  "He is sad.  He is sad because he misses Miss ____."   He is really good at reading people is adapting accordingly.  He is silly when people need a smile and sympathetic when the moment calls.   His father is fantastic at reading people.  I'm glad Liam is as well. 

I'm hoping I enjoy each stage as much as I enjoy the "Terrible Threes."

Sunday, February 3, 2013

I Have a Three Year Old!

How did this happen?  He is sweet, smart, and funny.  He makes me laugh and is so generous with his love and affection.  He sees my mom and tells me about Nana.  He makes friends and shows compassion. 

He had a Thomas party.  He claims his favorite part was the cake.  I totally believe him.

How did the time fly by so fast?  It seems like this little guy, Mike, and I were all just getting to know each other.