Tag: facing challenges

Middle School #atozchallenge

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My youngest child is finishing up middle school this year and moving on to high school. I have to say that I couldn’t be happier. Overall, middle school has been my least favorite parenting experience. And it was my least favorite childhood experience, as well. Middle school is the time when children are forming their own identities away from their parents, moving into cliques, discovering what they might like to do, what they are good at, and realizing that they can project the things they don’t like in themselves onto others.

When my oldest entered our town’s middle school, I distinctly remember sitting in a parent meeting in the cafeteria with a large group of parents. The principal stood on stage giving her spiel, and finally, she proudly stated, “There is NO bullying in our school. None.” And then she turned to the students she had coerced to be on stage with her and said, “Isn’t that right, students?” To which they all nodded, looking like deer in headlights.

As a teacher, a parent, and a long-ago middle-school student, I remember thinking that principal must have buried her head so deeply in the sands of self-created utopia that she had no idea what was happening in the halls she walked each day. And in fact, I was correct.

There was plenty of bullying at our middle school. But there was also much opportunity for growth. Middle schools are tough places, and so I offer some thoughts to help prepare for this experience.

1. You will not find “your people” in middle school. There will be a lot of people there, but they might not be people that you want to hang out with. They might not even be people you like. Don’t be discouraged. You are more likely to find them your people high school, but you might not find them until college. You will eventually find people with whom you have much in common.

2. Don’t work on being popular. From my experience, middle school popularity (even high school popularity) is fleeting. The people who are popular now will find themselves in amongst people who are older and smarter and more popular than they are, and they won’t know how to fit themselves in with those people. Besides, the focus on popularity holds you back from true success in life.

3. Those people who look like they have it all together? The people who don’t accept you because you don’t play a sport or you don’t live in the right part of town? They are just as insecure as everyone else. If someone doesn’t accept you, that is a reflection on who they are, not who you are.

4. Middle school is just a brief period of time. I know it may seem like it lasts forever, but it will be over before you know it. Keep your focus on your school work and on developing the best you that you can be, and you will come out stronger and more amazing than when you started. You are enough, and you are exactly what this world needs. Develop your talents and figure out who you are becoming.

I am quite happy that we are reaching the end of our middle school experience. For all of you who are not, I wish you the best of luck. Remember: this too shall pass.

Lyme Light #atzchallenge

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Spring is taking hold here in the northeastern U. S., and our weather is slowly growing more temperate. In the springtime, I begin to see my neighbors again as people come out of their homes to enjoy the warm weather and bask in the sun’s bright rays.

However, spring also brings unwanted pests in the form of insects of all types, most notably, ticks. In these parts (as in most), ticks carry Lyme disease, as well as a whole host of other illness-inducing bacteria that most people have never even heard of.

I take some (albeit minimal) comfort in the fact that my cat is not currently going outside since his fall from the position of king of the food-chain (written here in my F-blog). His temporary status as an indoor cat will reduce the risk of ticks in the house. Before, I felt a need to vacuum him obsessively when he came indoors. With the frequency with which cats go in and out and in and out (and in and out…), my vacuum was in constant use. Keeping him in once the windows are open and the screen door is all that separates him from the outdoors will be increasingly difficult.

I have Lyme disease, a diagnosis that came after more than one bout with a “virus” that confined me to the couch for several days at a time—a roundabout way to say I was not immediately diagnosed. In fact, no one really knows how long I had the disease before I was diagnosed. That’s a funny thing about Lyme

The symptoms of Lyme mimic so many other diseases, it is important for everyone to know and recognize the signs and symptoms; if you are armed with knowledge, you will be prepared to advocate for yourself or for your loved ones. Lyme is a growing concern that is now found in 80+ countries around the world. Your ability to help yourself begins with awareness.

I was not in the woods. I don’t remember being bitten by a tick. In fact, I never saw a tick. I never had the telltale “bulls-eye” rash. The standard CDC recommended 28-day course of antibiotics did not make me better. Getting in to see a Lyme literate practitioner was a months-long process. Sadly, Lyme disease is a politically charged disease for which it is difficult to obtain proper, aggressive treatment. Below are some resources for education. If you know of other helpful resources, please share them in the comments.

Today’s Public Service Announcement has been brought to you by the letter L.

http://www.underourskin.com/#home-underourskin

https://www.lymedisease.org/lyme-basics/lyme-disease/about-lyme/

http://www.ilads.org/

Knives #atozchallenge

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“Hey Mom, I booby-trapped the sink!” C exclaimed as he shut the dishwasher and dried his hands. It had been his night to do the dishes.

I looked toward the sink, and saw he had placed several knives in the position in which (I will admit) I too frequently leave them. They were on the edge of the sink, half on the counter and half “in” the sink. The blades were in mid-air, pointing into the sink. I laughed.

C had commented on this habit of mine when he first started to work in the kitchen more often. “What is this, Mom?” he pointed to the knife of the moment, hovering over the  sink. I had used it to make a sandwich, and I wasn’t done with it. I still had more to do before I was ready to clean up the kitchen.

“Are you trying to kill someone? Look at this!” He pretended to slip, moving his hand too close to the knife. “I could cut off my finger just trying to wash my hands!” He was totally teasing, but logically, he was making a good point. Balancing a knife in that position, over a frequently used sink was probably not the best idea. Point taken.

But I still leave my knives on the edge of the sink. In the time it takes me to break the habit, the kids will have moved out.

Ideas and Inspiration #atozchallenge

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The A to Z Challenge has piqued the interest of my children, even though they don’t always read the blog posts that result from discussions and suggestions they make about subject matter. The fact that mom is responding to assignments rather than simply writing when an idea comes is much like what they do in school, isn’t it?

Well… isn’t it?

Yesterday, our discussion focused around the letter I.

“What will you write for your I-blog, Mom?” C asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t have an idea yet.”

“’Idea!’ There’s your blog post,” he said triumphantly. As if simply saying a word could make it happen… I thought. An idea without inspiration just wasn’t going to happen.

“That’s it?” I asked him. “That’s your idea for I?”

He shrugged. “You used my idea for F. There’s no reason why you can’t use my idea for I.” He was smiling as he drove home his point by incorporating the very word he was suggesting into his statement.

“I don’t know. I’ll think about it,” I assured him.

“I think it could work,” J chimed in. “After all, what else are you going to write about?”

“Igloo,” my boyfriend suggested. “That’s a good one.” I suppose it could be… if I knew anything about igloos. Which I don’t.

Ideas are funny though; they flit in and plant themselves in your brain, but then when you try to examine them, turn them around, and analyze them so you can write about them, they dig in their heels and refuse to budge. How many times had I struggled to write, even when I thought I had an idea? But then other times, I think I have no ideas when I sit down to write, and amazingly coherent pieces flow out.

Two days ago, for example, I sat down to write my H blog on happiness, but it didn’t happen that way, did it? A hiccup or two later, and here we are at the letter I.

No doubt, I will continue to get help with my ideas through the rest of the A to Z Challenge, and beyond. I’m happy to entertain any idea that’s thrown at me, but don’t be surprised if I sit down to write, and I end up with something completely different.

Ideas are funny like that.

Hiccups #atozchallenge

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When I was a kid, I would get the hiccups something fierce. My hiccups would often last the full day, and while I don’t remember them bothering me too much—other than being a serious annoyance—I think my parents would beg to differ. Once, I remember being on a roof, helping my father while he made some repairs. When my hiccups began, he made me get off the roof for fear I might fall.

My parents’ go-to hiccup cure was always a spoonful of sugar. Every time I had the hiccups, I would choke down that spoonful of dry granules, and every time, I would still have the hiccups.

My most memorable case of hiccups was one time when we were involved in a family activity in the kitchen—I can’t remember whether we were coloring Easter eggs or carving jack-o-lanterns, but it was that type of activity, and it clearly took all of my focus. As was typical for me, I had been suffering with the hiccups for the better part of the day. I had tried the spoonful of sugar cure. Twice.

My mother slipped out of the room unnoticed while I was hard at work on my project. We finished, and when we were in the middle of cleaning up, my father sent me upstairs to get something for him. As I rounded the corner from our living room to our front hall, my mother jumped out and scared me. In fact, she scared me so badly that I started to cry. The one consolation—my hiccups were gone.

Several years later, we had a book of natural remedies on approval through the Readers Digest book club. In that book, there was a cure for hiccups that sounded ridiculous. According to the book, if you took a tall glass of water, placed a spoon in the water, held the handle of the spoon between your teeth as you drank some of the water, you would cure the hiccups. Ha!

It wasn’t long before I was able to put this cure to the test. And it worked! The quickest and easiest cure for the hiccups ever! In the years since finding this cure, it has helped me, my children, and any hiccup-ridden person I come in contact with.

For me, this cure has worked 95% of the time. It’s much easier than choking down sugar, and much safer than being traumatized by your mother!

Fearsome Felines and the Food Chain #atozchallenge

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It seems the local food chain experienced a bit of a shake down this afternoon.

One of my three felines—the only one who goes outside—is a formidable force in keeping the local rodent population to a reasonable level. In fact, the chipmunk population has considerably decreased since he started going outside, and I imagine the mouse population has too, based on the body count. Nearly every day, he leaves the gift of his most recent victim on the walkway where I will be sure to see it when I arrive home.

Today, my neighbor stopped me as I drove onto the street. She informed me that a coyote was seen crossing our street midday on Tuesday. It seems my fearless feline has fallen from his position as king of the food chain. Now, if he happens to escape the safe confines of our house, he will have to navigate the neighborhood in fear.

Expectations #atozchallenge

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When I was in high school, I spent a summer as an exchange student in a far away country on the outer edges of Europe. Before we left the States, we had a two-day orientation to prepare us for our journey, meeting our host families, and immersion a new culture.

There is not much I remember about those two days. I remember eating peanut butter out of a jar because dinner was of the tasteless, institutional variety. Oddly, I remember the omelet I had for breakfast the next day because it consisted of a thin bit of egg and a slice of American cheese. Most importantly, I remember a valuable lesson that I have carried with me since that time.

We were sitting in a circle on the grass. It was a breezy, early summer day, and the sun might have been shining. The leader of our group, who was once an exchange student through the very program we were part of, looked around the circle and offered us his best piece of advice—advice he wished someone had given him.

“Go into this experience without any expectations,” he told us. “If you have expectations, the reality is going to be different. It might be better, but it might be worse. If you enter your host country, meet your host family, try new foods, make new friends, all without expectations, then you are likely to be pleasantly surprised.”

This advice: it has been my go-to in new situations—in all situations, really. If we build things up in our minds to be more than they possibly can be, we are likely to be disappointed. But if we approach situations with no expectations, we might just be pleasantly surprised.

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Balance #atozchallenge

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As a single mom, one of the things I struggle with most is balance. No matter how I structure my day, my self seems to get lost in the demands of raising three kids and attending to the responsibilities I have before me. There are days when I run from one commitment to another with barely a pause to breathe.

My daughter also struggles with balance. She has filled her schedule with challenging classes and demanding activities, and there is little time left to sit with her thoughts or spend time with friends.

Perhaps this is why we both always have a creative project going. She will often sit in her room and draw if she has a free block of time. I am non-discriminating in my creativity. I turn to writing or painting or playing with wire and beads. For me, at least, I know that if I can maintain creative energy, I will feel as though I am attending to my own needs, regardless of how unbalanced my life may be.

Driving

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There is something about being out on the road with a brand new driver that imparts a thrill greater than any amusement park ride anyone could ever dream up.

As you barrel through town at speeds ranging anywhere from 2 to 72 miles an hour, you have absolutely no idea whether the car you are riding in will clip the mailbox on the side of the road, toppling it over, or veer into the center lane straight into the path of oncoming traffic. You have no idea if the car is going to come to a halt before it reaches the vehicle stopped at the red light just ahead of you, or… not.

In my state, there is no need to pass a test before taking the wheel. Children reach a magical age determined by a handful of stressed-out lawmakers at the end of a long day of deliberating on important issues, they grab their birth certificate, and hop in the driver’s seat. No permit necessary. And when they first take the wheel, the entire extent of their knowledge of the laws of the road is gleaned from years of sitting in the back of the mommy-van staring out the window. Truth be told, if you really think about it, it’s a frightening prospect.

And yet, this is my present reality. Each day, I drive my car to the high school in time to meet the students as they exit the school following theater practice. I dutifully move to the passenger seat to become a passive observer in the vehicle which I pay for and on which I cover all the expenses. (And to think, I once thought handing over a $300 pair of eyeglasses to a three year old was a big deal….)

As my daughter gets in, the first thing she does is move the seat three feet closer to the steering wheel and adjust all of the mirrors accordingly. Her older brother and I are close enough in size that I barely notice when he drives my car, so this is a novelty for me. The first morning after she was on the road, I had forgotten she was the most recent driver, and I hit my head on the door-frame trying to squeeze myself between the seat and the steering wheel. Now, I am a bit more astute about noticing the seat position before I attempt to get in.

I have been down this road before, but I had forgotten just how much my muscles tense and my blood pressure spikes when I am in the car with an inexperienced driver. In this situation, I am the adult; I am in control, and yet, I have no control whatsoever. I can scream all I want, but that doesn’t mean the car is going to stop.

Like childbirth, I had pushed the memory of the first-time driver deep into the recesses of my brain, and it was not until I was riding in my own car on the roads with child number two at the wheel when the memories, the physical reactions, the FEAR came flooding back. (I try to keep the fear to myself. At least until this blog post.)

Someone once told me that one of the great uncertainties of life is having a baby without finding out the gender before it is born. I beg to differ. One of the greatest uncertainties in life, if not the greatest uncertainty, is getting into the car with your teenager. You just never know how that is going to turn out. I’m hoping I’ll survive this one. And the next….

Cleaning the Closet

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I can always tell when my daughter’s schedule gets too busy. She doesn’t take the time to put her clothes away, so her clean clothes are deposited into a growing pile over the course of a couple of weeks. Eventually, the pile begins to rival Mt. Everest until she has time, and the items are wrangled, sorted, and deposited in their proper locations.

Admittedly, the past few weeks have been crazier than usual with too many activities, long term assignments, and planning for the months ahead. With the number of hectic weekends, her bedroom recently required some mountain-taming.

Yesterday, after sleeping off her 21 hour day on Saturday, she tackled the task of taming the mountainous terrains spreading across her bedroom floor. She started with her closet, which needed a bit of organizing to accommodate the extra articles of clothing she had acquired from her step-sister on a recent visit. She sorted through all her clothes; deposited the too-small items on my bed; asked for extra hangers; and got everything sorted and put away. When she was done, she was pleased with her work.

“Hey, Mom, come look at my closet!” While I was anxious to see the result, in retrospect, one might think that inviting me would not be such a good suggestion, given the circumstances.

“Nice!” I complimented her effort. “It looks great!” But then I spotted something peeking out from between the plaid flannel—a sleeve of white lace hung proudly, as if it belonged there. “Oh hey, that’s my shirt,” I pointed.

“Yeah,” she agreed, drawing out the word in hesitation. “I gave everything else back, but that’s pretty much mine now.”

“That’s interesting.” I paused, waiting for her to fill in with–oh, I don’t know, a request maybe? Nothing. “I don’t remember giving that shirt to you.”

“Um… okay, I stole it,” she admitted. “But you’re welcome to borrow it any time!”

I’m welcome to borrow it. My shirt. Of course.

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