Did I mention that Tobias turned 6 last month? He did. Six! He is in kindergarten this year and loves it. I thought I would share a couple of things about Tobias this year and a couple of stories from last year that have resurfaced.
Tobias has always loved being a caretaker. At his daycare, he loved to take care of the younger kids. Sometimes, he was a little overbearing, carrying them around or hugging them dozens of times each day. Most of them took it in good stride, but some of them were always a little wary of him. This year, not much has changed. His teacher asked him to be in charge of making a sure a new student felt comfortable at school and knew what to do. She started last week. The teacher walked down the hallway, checking on all of the kindergartners as they put away their snow gear and got ready to come into the classroom. There was Tobias, carefully unzipping the new girl's coat for her, taking off her gloves, putting away her hat, etc. while she just stood there like a shell shocked scarecrow. As the teacher got closer to let Tobias know that this girl could probably do most things for herself, she overheard him saying, "...and I'm really good at giving hugs. I like to give lots of hugs..." We may need to have some more lessons on consent, and just generally how to woo ladies with modern sensibilities.
Speaking of wooing ladies, last year Tobias had a fiancee. They were engaged for most the year until one day, in the Spring, Tobias came home and announced, "Well. It's over." "What's over?" "We're not getting married anymore." "Oh, why? What happened?" "*sigh* She dumped me for some new guy." Poor guy. After that the relationship was on again, off again. Ahh, the drama of young love.
Recently, Tobias' kindergarten class did a unit on dinosaurs. Tobias loved it. He read all of our dinosaur books, played with the toy dinosaurs in the basement and even asked for another stuffed dinosaur for his birthday so he could have a complete stuffed T-rex family. One of his favorite dinosaur books is called, "We Don't Eat Our Classmates" about Penelope Rex. She tends to eat her classmates. Anyway, one evening I read him the book and then tucked him in. He suddenly said, "Mom, people should not kill dinosaurs. Unless they are very poor and don't have enough food. Then it's okay. Goodnight!"
I giggled to myself. I had no idea he had such clear ideas about the ethics of killing prehistoric animals. Good to know in case the whole Jurassic Park saga ever plays out. Do you think survival is also an ethical reason to kill dinosaurs? I'll have to ask.
Last year, Benjamin and Tobias enrolled in a music class called "Let's Play Music". The class is pretty awesome and the boys love it. They are taking it again this year. Anyway, last year, the class was at my dear friend's house which meant that I often took a little time in getting out the door so I could quickly catch up with my friend, give her a hug, you know, friend stuff. Typically this wasn't a problem, but every once in a while, the boys would sneak out the door while I was chatting and then I had a heck of a time corralling them and getting them in the van. One particular day, Tobias announced that he did not want to get in the van and that he was walking home. My friend's house is more than a mile away from home and one would have to cross some very busy streets. Not to mention that we had never walked to music class before so he would have no idea of which direction to go. However, being an experienced mom, I did not argue with him. Instead, I just said, "sure" and decided to discreetly follow him with the van so I could be there to rescue him when he got tired and scared. Unfortunately, he did not get tired or scared. He never even looked back. After about 10 minutes, I couldn't take it anymore. I did not have 40 minutes to waste creeping along after this child, so I stopped the van and got out to confront him and let him know he really just needed to ride home. He ran.
Frankly, I am shocked that I did not end up on some true crime show with the following voice-over for re-enacted footage:
"Picture this- you see a small, 5-year-old boy walking confidently down the sidewalk. Soon, you see a van creeping along behind him at distance, stopping every once in a while, then moving again. The driver seems to be a crazed woman with no make-up on. Suddenly, she stops the van again, but this time she jumps out and yells something at the little boy. He takes off running. She chases him, tackles him to the ground, drags him to the van kicking and screaming, and forces him inside. She shuts the door, then returns to the driver's seat and starts driving again. She only gets a few feet when the little boy miraculously forces the door open, jumps out, and starts running again. He is screaming, "I am walking home! You can't make me ride with you!". It looks like the woman drives away, but no she stops again and repeats the chasing, tackling, and throwing in the van routine. This time, he doesn't get back out. If you see this woman, please call the local authorities."
I really am grateful and surprised that someone did not catch this whole thing on camera and that I was not Facebook infamous or charged by CPS. You can't make this stuff up. Only Tobips* can.
*We affectionately call him Tobips sometimes because when he was learning to write his name he often reversed his "a" and gave it an extra long stem so it looked like a "p".
Monday, March 18, 2019
Tough Love
I give my boys "tough love" all the time. You know, when your kids is flipping out and claiming that you hate him because you've grounded him from his tablet because you caught him casually walking out of church, planning to just walk home without telling anyone in -10 degree weather? That's tough love. You are doing something hard so that your child grows up to be a safe and responsible person even though those big blue eyes swimming with tears makes you want to waive the punishment and let him play as much Lego Harry Potter as he wants.
However, I am also on the receiving end of tough love. In this case, the word "tough" means unbreakable, resilient, tough-as-nails, titanium, etc. This is the kind of love I receive from my two youngest who have, of late, become very verbose in their expressions of just how unbreakable and resilient their love for me is.
To be fair, their love has always been tough because it has always been very physical. Benjamin, for example, has never held much stock in personal space. He likes to sneak up next you and noodle his way beneath your arm or suddenly appear on your lap. As he is all angles, this can be a very painful process, like having a mace and chain wriggling its way into your armpit. Similarly, Tobias is a consummate snuggler. He has perfected the art of latching himself onto another person like a giant, adorable leach. His surprise-attack hugs have more than once almost knocked me off of my feet. He pops up when you least expect him, like between Marc and myself when we are embracing. He just wiggles himself right in there and yells "Squish hug!". Sometimes I feel as though he is trying to meld with me, like a physical version of the Vulcan mind meld. (If you get that reference, congratulations. You are a nerd.) Anyway, it was during one of these tough love sessions in which Benjamin had draped himself across my lap and Tobias had wrapped himself so tightly around my leg that I was in danger of losing circulation, that the verbal escalation began. It started like this:
Tobias: Mommy, I love you so much.
Me: I love you too, buddy.
Tobias: I love you more than you love me.
Me: I don't think that's possible buddy. I love you an awful lot.
Tobias: I love you with my whole heart!
Benjamin: Tobias! You can't love someone with your heart, you love them with your brain! Your heart just pumps blood. Your brain thinks and feels things.
Tobias: Then I love Mommy with my whole brain!
Benjamin: Then I love Mommy with my whole brain to infinity!
Tobias: I love Mommy with my whole brain and all the brains of everyone in the whole world to infinity!
That seemed to be the end of the conversation for the day. Predictably, with boys, something that should have been cute and sweet quickly turned into an anatomy lesson and a contest. Little did I know, that this tough love contest would continue. Our lovely nanny recorded the boys have the following conversation a few days later:
Benjamin: I love Mommy with all the brains of all the living and dead people and all the hearts of all the living and dead people. Their whole hearts!
Tobias: I love Mom with the whole entire multiverse.
Benjamin: I love Mommy so much, that when we went in a black hole we didn't die!
Tobias: I love Mom so much that when we're dead we're still living..... together...... forever....
Tobias said the last sentence in a weird cadence and then his voice trailed off in a kind of eerie manner. I wasn't sure if I should feel super loved and flattered, a little creeped out, impressed that talk of black holes and the multiverse is normal fodder for a 6 and 7 year old in my house, or just plain baffled. I laughed really hard when I heard the recording, and then wondered if I should call a child therapist.
As I've pondered, however, I think I'm going to go with flattered. I mean, if their love is powerful enough to carry one through a black hole, that is pretty serious stuff. Some light research reveals that black holes, at least theoretical electrically charged ones, might be survived with enough speed. You would have to move really fast through the Cauchy horizon to avoid being pulled apart by extreme gravity and/or crushed by whatever random objects the singularity is emitting at the moment. So yeah, that sounds like some pretty extreme love, and I'm sure he did his research so he knows what he's talking about. As far as cheating death, there's been only one reported case of love THAT tough, and I would be pretty proud if Tobias emulated that individual. He was pretty great. I guess, instead of thinking that they need a therapist, maybe Marc and I need to pat ourselves on the back. If OUR tough love is enabling this kind of tough love in our boys, maybe we are rocking this parenting thing. And if you disagree with me? Tough. Love you anyway.
However, I am also on the receiving end of tough love. In this case, the word "tough" means unbreakable, resilient, tough-as-nails, titanium, etc. This is the kind of love I receive from my two youngest who have, of late, become very verbose in their expressions of just how unbreakable and resilient their love for me is.
To be fair, their love has always been tough because it has always been very physical. Benjamin, for example, has never held much stock in personal space. He likes to sneak up next you and noodle his way beneath your arm or suddenly appear on your lap. As he is all angles, this can be a very painful process, like having a mace and chain wriggling its way into your armpit. Similarly, Tobias is a consummate snuggler. He has perfected the art of latching himself onto another person like a giant, adorable leach. His surprise-attack hugs have more than once almost knocked me off of my feet. He pops up when you least expect him, like between Marc and myself when we are embracing. He just wiggles himself right in there and yells "Squish hug!". Sometimes I feel as though he is trying to meld with me, like a physical version of the Vulcan mind meld. (If you get that reference, congratulations. You are a nerd.) Anyway, it was during one of these tough love sessions in which Benjamin had draped himself across my lap and Tobias had wrapped himself so tightly around my leg that I was in danger of losing circulation, that the verbal escalation began. It started like this:
Tobias: Mommy, I love you so much.
Me: I love you too, buddy.
Tobias: I love you more than you love me.
Me: I don't think that's possible buddy. I love you an awful lot.
Tobias: I love you with my whole heart!
Benjamin: Tobias! You can't love someone with your heart, you love them with your brain! Your heart just pumps blood. Your brain thinks and feels things.
Tobias: Then I love Mommy with my whole brain!
Benjamin: Then I love Mommy with my whole brain to infinity!
Tobias: I love Mommy with my whole brain and all the brains of everyone in the whole world to infinity!
That seemed to be the end of the conversation for the day. Predictably, with boys, something that should have been cute and sweet quickly turned into an anatomy lesson and a contest. Little did I know, that this tough love contest would continue. Our lovely nanny recorded the boys have the following conversation a few days later:
Benjamin: I love Mommy with all the brains of all the living and dead people and all the hearts of all the living and dead people. Their whole hearts!
Tobias: I love Mom with the whole entire multiverse.
Benjamin: I love Mommy so much, that when we went in a black hole we didn't die!
Tobias: I love Mom so much that when we're dead we're still living..... together...... forever....
Tobias said the last sentence in a weird cadence and then his voice trailed off in a kind of eerie manner. I wasn't sure if I should feel super loved and flattered, a little creeped out, impressed that talk of black holes and the multiverse is normal fodder for a 6 and 7 year old in my house, or just plain baffled. I laughed really hard when I heard the recording, and then wondered if I should call a child therapist.
As I've pondered, however, I think I'm going to go with flattered. I mean, if their love is powerful enough to carry one through a black hole, that is pretty serious stuff. Some light research reveals that black holes, at least theoretical electrically charged ones, might be survived with enough speed. You would have to move really fast through the Cauchy horizon to avoid being pulled apart by extreme gravity and/or crushed by whatever random objects the singularity is emitting at the moment. So yeah, that sounds like some pretty extreme love, and I'm sure he did his research so he knows what he's talking about. As far as cheating death, there's been only one reported case of love THAT tough, and I would be pretty proud if Tobias emulated that individual. He was pretty great. I guess, instead of thinking that they need a therapist, maybe Marc and I need to pat ourselves on the back. If OUR tough love is enabling this kind of tough love in our boys, maybe we are rocking this parenting thing. And if you disagree with me? Tough. Love you anyway.
Saturday, February 23, 2019
This Kid
I had a request to post this poem that David John wrote last year in protest of being asked to write a poem. It's entitled, "This Poem". Enjoy.
This poem
I'm writing it for an assignment
I'd rather not
But it's what I've got
And I cannot decline it
I'm wasting my time
To make up this rhyme
Now it's finally through
I cannot continue
But I have to fill up the lines
With even more rhymes
I will write random words
Like a bat ate a bird
Now just one more line
I'm done now it's fine.
Not too shabby for a second-grader, eh? This kid. He makes us laugh. He makes us cry. He makes us crazy. He makes us proud.
This poem
I'm writing it for an assignment
I'd rather not
But it's what I've got
And I cannot decline it
I'm wasting my time
To make up this rhyme
Now it's finally through
I cannot continue
But I have to fill up the lines
With even more rhymes
I will write random words
Like a bat ate a bird
Now just one more line
I'm done now it's fine.
Not too shabby for a second-grader, eh? This kid. He makes us laugh. He makes us cry. He makes us crazy. He makes us proud.
Tuesday, February 19, 2019
Bad Boys
Do you know what having 5 kids teaches you? That there is a heck of a lot more "nature" than "nurture" that goes into the equations when it comes to child personality and behavior. I mean, our five children have had almost identical resources and parenting styles as they have grown up but they are completely different. Some are very very good in school, and some leave something to be desired in the school behavior department. For the most part, our twins have been academic angels. Sure, Elijah tried to see how many pencils he could secretly bring to the rug in first grade by hiding them up his sleeves and in his waist band, but that was no big deal, not really. Gabriel had a few problems with being humble- still does sometimes- but again, no biggie. Tobias is reportedly the most well-behaved kindergarten student of all time (except during that one morning recess in which he reportedly punched a 5th grader in response to the insult of being called "twinkle toes" and made said student cry). However, our middle two just seem to have a harder time keeping it together from 8 am to 3 pm. As I have been teaching at their school this year, I have been able to witness some of this misbehavior first hand or at least hear about it soon after the fact. David John in particular has given everyone a run for their money this year. Here are the top David John school stories so far. Fingers crossed that we don't have any more excitement.
1. David John decided that instead of writing a personal narrative during writing time, he would instead write a treatise to the school about why he shouldn't have to write the personal narrative in the first place. This letter included a thorough examination of how schools should differentiate instruction for their students because for some students the work is too hard, for some students the work is too easy and boring and for some students it is just right. He suggested that the school give students work appropriate to their level of ability and made a point that he already knows how to write an effective personal narrative and shouldn't have to write another one just because that is the lesson of the day. He requested that his treatise be given to the principal. Truthfully, I felt a little pride in his use of writing to try and solve a social problem. A little civil disobedience never hurt anyone, right? And where on earth did he get that sass from?
2. During a lesson on California Condors and endangered species, David John was first to finish reading the article. Instead of sitting quietly and letting his classmates finish their work, he immediately started exclaiming that Californians are endangered and disappearing! Yes! The people of California are dwindling! The class immediately jumped on board his crazy train and went along for the ride. Despite the teacher trying to redirect the conversation back to Condors, David John's story was much more exciting so the students kept asking questions about the disappearing Californians. David John's teacher is a saint. I mean that literally. Any teacher who survives his antics for a year is sainted by the Catholic church because being his teacher without losing your mind is nothing short of a miracle.
3. David John recently was asked to make some presidential silhouettes for President's Day. He decided to place them nose to nose on his paper so that it looked like they might be kissing. He, of course, thought this was hysterical and showed off his creation to all of his friends. When the teacher asked him to redo the project because of the inappropriate nature of his picture, he cut out new silhouettes and placed them an appropriate distance apart. This time, unfortunately, George had a runny nose and Lincoln was vomiting. Lovely. The teacher was not amused. I talked to David John about the respect we should have for the office of president and for the people who served our country in the past. We discussed why his various choices for his silhouettes might make people upset or uncomfortable. He seemed genuinely surprised that people might have big feelings about what he did. To my knowledge, he did the project one more time, correctly. I have never been so glad to put President's Day behind us, except for that time in Kindergarten when he wrote Abraham Lincoln Goes Crazy.
4. At the beginning of the year, when the weather was not a danger to your health, the boys would sometimes stay after school and play at the playground or in my classroom while I prepared things for the next day. One of those days, I was busy in my classroom when I heard what sounded like footsteps overhead. "Hmm, must be a maintenance worker", I thought. Soon after, however, there came a banging at my window followed by wild gesticulating of one of my other children. I rushed outside to be told that David John had used a picnic table, a bike, and a maintenance access ladder to hoist himself onto the roof. Sure enough, he was dancing atop the school roof like a crazy person. What ensued was a very loud, shouted negotiation to get him to climb down which involved me threatening to call the police. When I got my phone out and started dialing, he finally gave in and came down. At that moment, the very kind head custodian of the school rounded the corner and talked to David John about how dangerous his choices were. He then asked, "Do you know anything about ketchup in the boys bathroom?" My eyebrows went up. This seemed to be an odd question to ask. "Yes," David John replied, "I did that." "That" turned out to be carefully placing ketchup packets beneath the toilet seat in the boys bathroom and then jumping on said toilet seat in order to make the ketchup packets explode. When asked why he would do that, he just explained that he "wanted to see what happened". It was a great experiment in physics, and no one got hurt. After he saw the mess, he had started a couple of rumors blaming various brothers for the crime. This turned out to be a mistake as that tipped off school staff that some Ricks child was probably involved. The next morning, David John could be found scrubbing the walls of the gym before school in addition to whatever else the custodian asked him to clean. Many people commented that they saw my son "helping out". "How kind!", they exclaimed. If only they knew. I smiled, but inside this little jingle kept running through my head:
Up on the rooftop, David John's shoes
Brothers wave and scream the news
Down once again, although he protested
Only coming so he wouldn't be arrested
Oh no no! Why did he go?
Oh no no! Why did he go?
Where is his mother? Tsk tsk tsk!
Inside the school sitting at her desk!
Between my children and my students there is never a dull moment, at least for me. There are some dull moments during the school day for David John despite the best efforts of his teachers. These are the times in which he might tear out the subscription cards from the Highlights Magazine in his class and fill it out with potty-related names and addresses or give himself a "whirly" aka swirly. If only my parental embarrassment at being the mother of sometimes "bad boys" could be flushed away so easily. In those moments, I try to remember that what looks like impulsivity and naughtiness can be reframed as creativity and gumption. Maybe my "bad boys" are of the "so bad, it's good" variety. Here's hoping.
1. David John decided that instead of writing a personal narrative during writing time, he would instead write a treatise to the school about why he shouldn't have to write the personal narrative in the first place. This letter included a thorough examination of how schools should differentiate instruction for their students because for some students the work is too hard, for some students the work is too easy and boring and for some students it is just right. He suggested that the school give students work appropriate to their level of ability and made a point that he already knows how to write an effective personal narrative and shouldn't have to write another one just because that is the lesson of the day. He requested that his treatise be given to the principal. Truthfully, I felt a little pride in his use of writing to try and solve a social problem. A little civil disobedience never hurt anyone, right? And where on earth did he get that sass from?
2. During a lesson on California Condors and endangered species, David John was first to finish reading the article. Instead of sitting quietly and letting his classmates finish their work, he immediately started exclaiming that Californians are endangered and disappearing! Yes! The people of California are dwindling! The class immediately jumped on board his crazy train and went along for the ride. Despite the teacher trying to redirect the conversation back to Condors, David John's story was much more exciting so the students kept asking questions about the disappearing Californians. David John's teacher is a saint. I mean that literally. Any teacher who survives his antics for a year is sainted by the Catholic church because being his teacher without losing your mind is nothing short of a miracle.
3. David John recently was asked to make some presidential silhouettes for President's Day. He decided to place them nose to nose on his paper so that it looked like they might be kissing. He, of course, thought this was hysterical and showed off his creation to all of his friends. When the teacher asked him to redo the project because of the inappropriate nature of his picture, he cut out new silhouettes and placed them an appropriate distance apart. This time, unfortunately, George had a runny nose and Lincoln was vomiting. Lovely. The teacher was not amused. I talked to David John about the respect we should have for the office of president and for the people who served our country in the past. We discussed why his various choices for his silhouettes might make people upset or uncomfortable. He seemed genuinely surprised that people might have big feelings about what he did. To my knowledge, he did the project one more time, correctly. I have never been so glad to put President's Day behind us, except for that time in Kindergarten when he wrote Abraham Lincoln Goes Crazy.
4. At the beginning of the year, when the weather was not a danger to your health, the boys would sometimes stay after school and play at the playground or in my classroom while I prepared things for the next day. One of those days, I was busy in my classroom when I heard what sounded like footsteps overhead. "Hmm, must be a maintenance worker", I thought. Soon after, however, there came a banging at my window followed by wild gesticulating of one of my other children. I rushed outside to be told that David John had used a picnic table, a bike, and a maintenance access ladder to hoist himself onto the roof. Sure enough, he was dancing atop the school roof like a crazy person. What ensued was a very loud, shouted negotiation to get him to climb down which involved me threatening to call the police. When I got my phone out and started dialing, he finally gave in and came down. At that moment, the very kind head custodian of the school rounded the corner and talked to David John about how dangerous his choices were. He then asked, "Do you know anything about ketchup in the boys bathroom?" My eyebrows went up. This seemed to be an odd question to ask. "Yes," David John replied, "I did that." "That" turned out to be carefully placing ketchup packets beneath the toilet seat in the boys bathroom and then jumping on said toilet seat in order to make the ketchup packets explode. When asked why he would do that, he just explained that he "wanted to see what happened". It was a great experiment in physics, and no one got hurt. After he saw the mess, he had started a couple of rumors blaming various brothers for the crime. This turned out to be a mistake as that tipped off school staff that some Ricks child was probably involved. The next morning, David John could be found scrubbing the walls of the gym before school in addition to whatever else the custodian asked him to clean. Many people commented that they saw my son "helping out". "How kind!", they exclaimed. If only they knew. I smiled, but inside this little jingle kept running through my head:
Up on the rooftop, David John's shoes
Brothers wave and scream the news
Down once again, although he protested
Only coming so he wouldn't be arrested
Oh no no! Why did he go?
Oh no no! Why did he go?
Where is his mother? Tsk tsk tsk!
Inside the school sitting at her desk!
Between my children and my students there is never a dull moment, at least for me. There are some dull moments during the school day for David John despite the best efforts of his teachers. These are the times in which he might tear out the subscription cards from the Highlights Magazine in his class and fill it out with potty-related names and addresses or give himself a "whirly" aka swirly. If only my parental embarrassment at being the mother of sometimes "bad boys" could be flushed away so easily. In those moments, I try to remember that what looks like impulsivity and naughtiness can be reframed as creativity and gumption. Maybe my "bad boys" are of the "so bad, it's good" variety. Here's hoping.
Saturday, February 9, 2019
Hello,
it's me
I was wondering if after more than a year you'd like to read
To go over everything...
I must have tried a thousand times, or at least thought about trying a thousand times, to sit down and start writing again. I mean, I know I could have started again last month. January is traditionally the time we reinvent ourselves and recommit to the things we love or know we should do, but that would have been cliche. Thousands of people all over the world start blogs in January that will fizzle out by the end of this month. I didn't want to be part of that crowd even if I am just resurrecting an old blog and not starting a new one. Also, I am rationalizing and I just procrastinated. Let's be honest. It felt too big. How can I make up for the time between November 4th 2017 and now? My frustrated-perfectionist inner-self looks at that huge gap and wants to proclaim this little blog forever ruined because there wasn't at LEAST one post every month when really my previous standard had been about once a week. However, I am trying to be a little more loving, kind, and generous to everyone including myself so here I am, sitting in my imperfect glory, trying to be a little more Zen. Don't worry, I won't try to tell you to be Zen too. My experience is that telling someone they should be Zen produces the opposite effect. I once read a book called Momma Zen for my book club. That book infuriated me. I just couldn't find the "Zen" in my momma life filled with infant and toddler boys who arose every morning at 5:30. That book just happened to fall off of a shelf above the changing table and into an open poopy diaper I was changing one day. I laughed so hard and, if you are the author please forgive me, yelled, "There! Try to be Zen about THAT crap!" I know it was a little crass, but I did feel much more Zen after laughing, yelling, and throwing the book away. I'm sure it really is a good book. It just wasn't the right time for me to read it. In that spirit, here is a ridiculously long recap of the things that happened last year which made me laugh, yell, and want to say crass words.
November and December of 2017 found me finishing up my 8 credits of graduate coursework and working long hours on negotiating the Superintendent's contract as the president of the local school board. In January, I made the very difficult decision to step down as president in order to more ethically be able to apply for teaching and administrative positions in the school district since Tobias would be starting Kindergarten in the fall. I was still working 30 hours a week for the KIDS Program and taking a full load of Master's classes. That winter and spring were an intense lesson in humility and patience as I applied for and failed to get interviews for position after position. I felt lost and my faith in myself was very shaken. I had given up work and colleagues that I loved on the school board in hopes of having an opportunity to make a different and more personal impact on education. I felt that perhaps I had made a huge mistake. I graduated with my Master's Degree in Education from UND in May of 2018. By that time, I had finally gotten one interview, but still no job offer.
The end of the school year came, and went. I was offered a position in a doctoral cohort at UND and decided I would take it as a way to continue learning and staying connected with the world of public education since it didn't look like I was going to be involved in the way I wanted to be. I would find a way to intern or volunteer in conjunction with my coursework. My children were in favor of this plan because they like anything which adds a little more chaos to the world. One of my boys commented, "Yes! Mom, it will be great when you are a doctor too because then people will call the house and ask, 'May I talk to Dr. Ricks?', and then we will say, 'Which one?!?' They will be so confused!" This pronouncement was followed by maniacal laughter.
We took a summer vacation to Ohio at the end of June and, while were there, I finally received a job offer. This just proves that God has a sense of humor and, sometimes, I'm not sure if He is always all that funny. I took the job, but I was already committed to pursuing my EdD. So, in August I started teaching 4th grade at the school my children attend AND I started doctoral classes every other weekend in Grand Forks- a 5 hour drive one way. Oh, did I mention that I was unable to access my classroom until about a week before school started? Also, we got a puppy. It just seemed right. I mean, we had to hire a nanny, buy and ready a small house for the nanny to live in, set up a classroom, finish soccer season, swimming season, swimming lessons for the other boys, prepare the boys for school starting, figure out how to deal with the new reality of Mommy being MIA a lot of the time AND take family pictures so it was a natural time to add a dog to the family. Marc's saintly mother saved our bacon by coming out for two whole weeks to help me try to manage everything and cope with the intensive new teacher training I had to attend on top of it all. The dog, Loki, certainly made us laugh, then yell, and he definitely left plenty of "crass words" all over the carpets. He also was addicted to the written word in the worst way. We lost so many books those first months. He ate a lot of Harry Potter and Shel Silverstein. Good taste. Dang it.
Pretty much my life since August has been teach, prep, study, drive, repeat. Teaching has been, if possible, even more humbling than struggling to find a job. I am really good at certain things because of my special education training and experience, but I am learning that general education is very different and very challenging. For example- the amount of paper alone is enough to make me curl up into the fetal position. I have nightmares about paper just piling up everywhere and I can't find anything in my classroom. Oh wait, that's reality. Here's the deal though- I LOVE these kids. I mean, they are my babies. I had forgotten what that was like to have this extended family that you see at school each day and now, instead of just 12 of them like there were in my special education classes, there are 20. It's a good thing because the number of hours between trying to manage this new job and my doctoral level classes has really pushed me to the edge of my ability. I have cried more tears of frustration, gratitude, despair, exhaustion and relief than I have since I was in the throes of infertility treatments. This is no life for the faint of heart, and I'm not even cooking dinner! Our saintly nanny is doing that most nights. The tender mercies here are that I get to see my own children- all in the same school for one year only- in action during the school day. I have never felt so loved or supported by them or by my husband than I do now during this most difficult year. I can't count the number of times this year when little arms have wrapped around my waist when I feel like the world is crashing down around me and then little voices say, "It's okay, Mommy. You are a good teacher AND a good mommy. We love you and your students love you." Or sometimes, those voices that are almost big- How are they getting so big so fast?- will say, "Mom! You are the coolest teacher! You are doing a great job, I don't know how you do it all!" When they see me at school, they always say hello and, most of them, stop to give me a hug or a kiss. In front of their friends. I'm the luckiest, right? I'm the luckiest to have one more pair of arms, the biggest ones in our house, and one more big voice that whispers words of encouragement. When I told Marc that I was feeling sad about the lost year, the year I didn't write about my children and our family, the year that has no record he said, "It's okay. Not writing is a record too. It's been a tough year, a crazy year, but you have accomplished so much." He's right. I have been able to accomplish a lot by leaning on all of the wonderful people in my life.
So, to all those many many friends and family members, who have lent shoulders to cry on, hands to make my work lighter, time to laugh with me and showed infinite amounts of patience with my emotional roller coaster, thank you. I promise many more amusing stories and anecdotes from this new and crazy life as I begin again to record the beauty and humor I see all around me, but for now...
Hello from the other side
I need to say a thousand times
That I'm so grateful
For everything that you've done
Even if when you call
I don't seem to be home anymore
Just keep calling. And texting. And emailing. Eventually, I will get back to you. I promise. You are all the best.
I was wondering if after more than a year you'd like to read
To go over everything...
I must have tried a thousand times, or at least thought about trying a thousand times, to sit down and start writing again. I mean, I know I could have started again last month. January is traditionally the time we reinvent ourselves and recommit to the things we love or know we should do, but that would have been cliche. Thousands of people all over the world start blogs in January that will fizzle out by the end of this month. I didn't want to be part of that crowd even if I am just resurrecting an old blog and not starting a new one. Also, I am rationalizing and I just procrastinated. Let's be honest. It felt too big. How can I make up for the time between November 4th 2017 and now? My frustrated-perfectionist inner-self looks at that huge gap and wants to proclaim this little blog forever ruined because there wasn't at LEAST one post every month when really my previous standard had been about once a week. However, I am trying to be a little more loving, kind, and generous to everyone including myself so here I am, sitting in my imperfect glory, trying to be a little more Zen. Don't worry, I won't try to tell you to be Zen too. My experience is that telling someone they should be Zen produces the opposite effect. I once read a book called Momma Zen for my book club. That book infuriated me. I just couldn't find the "Zen" in my momma life filled with infant and toddler boys who arose every morning at 5:30. That book just happened to fall off of a shelf above the changing table and into an open poopy diaper I was changing one day. I laughed so hard and, if you are the author please forgive me, yelled, "There! Try to be Zen about THAT crap!" I know it was a little crass, but I did feel much more Zen after laughing, yelling, and throwing the book away. I'm sure it really is a good book. It just wasn't the right time for me to read it. In that spirit, here is a ridiculously long recap of the things that happened last year which made me laugh, yell, and want to say crass words.
November and December of 2017 found me finishing up my 8 credits of graduate coursework and working long hours on negotiating the Superintendent's contract as the president of the local school board. In January, I made the very difficult decision to step down as president in order to more ethically be able to apply for teaching and administrative positions in the school district since Tobias would be starting Kindergarten in the fall. I was still working 30 hours a week for the KIDS Program and taking a full load of Master's classes. That winter and spring were an intense lesson in humility and patience as I applied for and failed to get interviews for position after position. I felt lost and my faith in myself was very shaken. I had given up work and colleagues that I loved on the school board in hopes of having an opportunity to make a different and more personal impact on education. I felt that perhaps I had made a huge mistake. I graduated with my Master's Degree in Education from UND in May of 2018. By that time, I had finally gotten one interview, but still no job offer.
The end of the school year came, and went. I was offered a position in a doctoral cohort at UND and decided I would take it as a way to continue learning and staying connected with the world of public education since it didn't look like I was going to be involved in the way I wanted to be. I would find a way to intern or volunteer in conjunction with my coursework. My children were in favor of this plan because they like anything which adds a little more chaos to the world. One of my boys commented, "Yes! Mom, it will be great when you are a doctor too because then people will call the house and ask, 'May I talk to Dr. Ricks?', and then we will say, 'Which one?!?' They will be so confused!" This pronouncement was followed by maniacal laughter.
We took a summer vacation to Ohio at the end of June and, while were there, I finally received a job offer. This just proves that God has a sense of humor and, sometimes, I'm not sure if He is always all that funny. I took the job, but I was already committed to pursuing my EdD. So, in August I started teaching 4th grade at the school my children attend AND I started doctoral classes every other weekend in Grand Forks- a 5 hour drive one way. Oh, did I mention that I was unable to access my classroom until about a week before school started? Also, we got a puppy. It just seemed right. I mean, we had to hire a nanny, buy and ready a small house for the nanny to live in, set up a classroom, finish soccer season, swimming season, swimming lessons for the other boys, prepare the boys for school starting, figure out how to deal with the new reality of Mommy being MIA a lot of the time AND take family pictures so it was a natural time to add a dog to the family. Marc's saintly mother saved our bacon by coming out for two whole weeks to help me try to manage everything and cope with the intensive new teacher training I had to attend on top of it all. The dog, Loki, certainly made us laugh, then yell, and he definitely left plenty of "crass words" all over the carpets. He also was addicted to the written word in the worst way. We lost so many books those first months. He ate a lot of Harry Potter and Shel Silverstein. Good taste. Dang it.
Pretty much my life since August has been teach, prep, study, drive, repeat. Teaching has been, if possible, even more humbling than struggling to find a job. I am really good at certain things because of my special education training and experience, but I am learning that general education is very different and very challenging. For example- the amount of paper alone is enough to make me curl up into the fetal position. I have nightmares about paper just piling up everywhere and I can't find anything in my classroom. Oh wait, that's reality. Here's the deal though- I LOVE these kids. I mean, they are my babies. I had forgotten what that was like to have this extended family that you see at school each day and now, instead of just 12 of them like there were in my special education classes, there are 20. It's a good thing because the number of hours between trying to manage this new job and my doctoral level classes has really pushed me to the edge of my ability. I have cried more tears of frustration, gratitude, despair, exhaustion and relief than I have since I was in the throes of infertility treatments. This is no life for the faint of heart, and I'm not even cooking dinner! Our saintly nanny is doing that most nights. The tender mercies here are that I get to see my own children- all in the same school for one year only- in action during the school day. I have never felt so loved or supported by them or by my husband than I do now during this most difficult year. I can't count the number of times this year when little arms have wrapped around my waist when I feel like the world is crashing down around me and then little voices say, "It's okay, Mommy. You are a good teacher AND a good mommy. We love you and your students love you." Or sometimes, those voices that are almost big- How are they getting so big so fast?- will say, "Mom! You are the coolest teacher! You are doing a great job, I don't know how you do it all!" When they see me at school, they always say hello and, most of them, stop to give me a hug or a kiss. In front of their friends. I'm the luckiest, right? I'm the luckiest to have one more pair of arms, the biggest ones in our house, and one more big voice that whispers words of encouragement. When I told Marc that I was feeling sad about the lost year, the year I didn't write about my children and our family, the year that has no record he said, "It's okay. Not writing is a record too. It's been a tough year, a crazy year, but you have accomplished so much." He's right. I have been able to accomplish a lot by leaning on all of the wonderful people in my life.
So, to all those many many friends and family members, who have lent shoulders to cry on, hands to make my work lighter, time to laugh with me and showed infinite amounts of patience with my emotional roller coaster, thank you. I promise many more amusing stories and anecdotes from this new and crazy life as I begin again to record the beauty and humor I see all around me, but for now...
Hello from the other side
I need to say a thousand times
That I'm so grateful
For everything that you've done
Even if when you call
I don't seem to be home anymore
Just keep calling. And texting. And emailing. Eventually, I will get back to you. I promise. You are all the best.
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