Parents vs. Teachers? How about Team Student?

As a parent and teacher myself, it is a little upsetting that parents are asking for feedback about teachers openly on social media. Some are just curious, I know, and want to feel like their child will have a positive year. Others are ready to gossip or receive information that makes them prepared to pounce when the need arises. Connections between teachers and students vary and one parent experience with a teacher may be completely different than another. I make no prejudgments about students or parents, despite what others may try to tell me, as every child and family deserves to be known personally and to be given all they need to be successful. Teachers deserve the same courtesy. If parents and teachers want the same thing and work together to support each child with open and respectful communication, that child has the ideal condition to learn and grow. I understand wanting to know more, but every child, parent, and teacher deserves the benefit of the doubt.

This goes both ways! Teachers and staff share information about students, what worked, what didn’t work, any special needs or nuances that will help us best support the child. We do not need to share or hear negative gossip.

So what I propose is Team Student! We trust that we all want what is best for a child and handle all situations throughout the year with that mindset. None of us are perfect. We do not handle everything with grace, but we can try harder. When you have a concern, take time to process it. Write down your thoughts. Try not to email, call, message, and definitely not post when you are upset or angry. We teach our children to manage their emotions, to think before they act, but the best example is when we model that behavior. Avoid negative comments to the child about the teacher, staff, or school. Think about how the child will best be served. We are all human and make mistakes. Approach each incident and person with one thought, does this help and set a positive example for the child? There are times we need to advocate for children, absolutely, but how we do it matters.

Be kind. I know we hear that frequently, but I am guilty of not practicing it. After hearing a speaker at work this week clearly distinguish the difference between being nice and being kind, I have the ideal perspective to start the year, both as a teacher and a parent of 4 school-age daughters. Being nice is reactionary. We treat others according to how they treat us. Being kind is INTENTIONAL. It is a choice within ourselves and can be practiced no matter how those around us behave. This year I vow to be more intentional with my kindness, at home and at school. Staff members are human with things going on in their lives, same as parents. Kindness can go a long way in raising our children and it does not mean we are doormats. It means we are strong, and we choose to model what we ask of the youngest among us. We support each other, consider feelings and circumstances, make everyone feel welcome and valued, and we cheer each other on. This school year, every school year, and beyond can be a positive year if we automatically join the same team from day 1 and commit to it. An intentional change in mindset and behavior is a powerful tool! Best wishes to everyone on Team Student this year!

Summer Vacation Parent vs. Teacher

The countdown has begun to the last day of another school year. The countdown for teachers is like that of a New Year’s Eve celebration, exciting and full of hope and possibilities! The parent countdown looks quite different, more like the countdown of a space shuttle. It’s kind of exciting but also scary, and it’s not full of hope…more like we hope for the best! I can speak somewhat intelligently from both perspectives as an elementary teacher for 21 years and a parent of four girls ages 15, 12, 11, and 4.

As a teacher I get a little sad and nostalgic at the very end to say goodbye to a particular group of students. But mostly I count with joy to the time where I will have no idea the date or even day of the week when someone asks me! The time of grading those dreaded assessments and responding to notes, emails, and calls, and especially planning and prepping lessons is ending, while I rush towards stretched hot days in the sun, by the pool, sleeping in, reading a book for pleasure, watching Netflix, and doing all those things I never seem to get to the other ten months of the year. Surely I’ll organize my kids’ pictures and memories this year, clean out kitchen cabinets and storage spaces purging the clutter, and wash the many household items that are usually neglected and postponed to “next summer”. Ideally, I’ll find more me and quiet time, “recharge my batteries ” as a teacher, and engage in some self-care. But wait…my teacher summer is also a parent summer!!!

My kids who are usually busy with a myriad of sports, school activities, homework, projects, and so on for the last ten months have suddenly elected me their summer vacation travel agent and resort director. I go from being a stretched thin taxi driver who hangs on by a thread to the scheduling involved for four kids to focusing all my energy on solutions to one word, boredom. Like many parents today, I want to enjoy this quality time with my girls and pack in as much fun, new experiences as I can and still help them grow as learners. We do some just for fun and sports camps but still have plenty of down time to fill. So we do a week down the shore and maybe another couple of day or weekend trips. I often feel I am flailing and failing in this process. My kids still fight, even more than usual, and we all start to grate on each other’s nerves, nevermind how much more money we seem to spend trying to feed and entertain them! The house moves from its usual lived-in appearance to God help me, is there a floor here and do we still own a vacuum? We wade endlessly through dirty dishes and neverending piles of laundry, wet towels, and bathing suits.

This year my oldest is starting her first job. I’m sad but glad for the reminder that this parenting marathon does come to an abrupt end at about year 18, and while we coddle our children the longest of all the mammals, 18 summers do not seem nearly sufficient. I will try not to plan out every moment of our time together and despite my type A personality attempt to let things happen, go with the flow, and be spontaneous. I’ll set some goals but won’t judge myself too harshly if I only check a few things off the list. And I promise to let my kids be bored and problem solve without my intervention. They can read what they like and what they must for school, but despite what the public may expect, I do not spend much time doing traditional academic work with my girls. They get enough of that during the school year. I know these are the days I will miss most when they spend their summers elsewhere.

Some days will drag and it may feel as if summer is the longest season. At some point we will all look forward to cooler fall weather. Surprising myself every year, in mid-August I start prepping and getting excited about my new class and school year, feeling rejuvenated and ready to achieve great things at work. At home, my summer’s success is in the memories, good, bad, funny, or sad. Ones that will bring us close together even when many miles and circumstances may separate us. I wish all my teacher and parent friends that kind of success this summer!

Everyday Should Be Mother’s Day

This is for all the moms, giving their all, day after day from the day their child is born, until they are no longer of this Earth. One day a year to honor the women who raise us, mold us, imprint permanently in our hearts and minds, seems grossly inadequate.

When I was little and even a young girl, my mom and grandma were revered. They took care of me, loved and supported me.

As a teen, my mom lost her luster, and she no longer seemed like the pedestal sitter of my youth. In fact, I thought the dumbest most annoying things I ever heard came out of her mouth. She embarrassed me and I thought she knew nothing of my time, my world. I still couldn’t imagine her being my age. I hurt her with my words, my deeds, my unappreciative attitude.

Now that I am “grown” and a mom of 4 girls, including a 15-year-old, I see her how I wish I had always seen her. She is a person, an imperfect one, with memories and a life that pre-date me. She has her own quirks and personality traits, and we do not always mesh or agree. We also sometimes butt heads because I have become more like her. She is an independent woman, the kind who could take care of herself from a young age, and despite many obstacles, raised me to be an independent thinker who could take care of myself. She also instilled life-long values that guide me in the raising of my own young’ens.

Most of all, she is my champion, my cheerleader. She will always root for me, pray for me, and have my back whenever needed. The comfort that gives me on bad days or in dark times is invaluable in this world. I thank God for her and her unwavering belief in my potential, in my deep seeded goodness that she helped mold. She is not perfect, nor am I. But I will pass all the good she has given me to my girls. They will know unequivocally that I am and always will be their #1 fan.

The time of the littles is passing. I am in the muck of running to sports, dance, cheer, school clubs, sleepovers, parties. Trying to check homework, do housework, stay on top of and remember more things any human should have to. But despite the stress of the running, that too will end. And I have learned over time and with some help to put things in perspective. To enjoy each stage, even as I curse them. I know it will all pass. They will grow and become independent women with lives of their own. But my thoughts, heart, prayers, and my abilities will be with them and at their disposal for as long as I live. And I have a good feeling most moms know exactly what I am talking about. Everyday should be Mother’s Day. When you realize that, use it.

New Year Goals: Do Not Judge

I saw something on social media today that I found truly disturbing. It was nasty, unwarranted, judgemental, and misinformed. Lies and half truths intended to bash parents and to slander their teenage child. I am not a parent who claims my kids do no wrong. Quite the opposite is true. They would probably say I lie in waiting to catch them, like a female cat of some sort, stalking their prey.

I would say I hate social media, as I plan to post this, but I do not hate social media. Like any other communication tool, it can be used positively or negatively. I try to post only positive, honest things, and I enjoy seeing pictures and inspirational stories from my loved ones. It can be a wonderful way to share our lives and lessons with each other, even to help other people, God willing.

Some people use it as a way to judge others, to smear and belittle, talk down to, bash, etc. and to boost themselves and their lives into some level of unreasonable, unbelievable perfection. And while my initial reaction was to comment with my disapproval, I had to pause and think of how to react. When you have been good to a person, or group of people for many years, it’s natural to freak out when you feel betrayed by them.

I find myself, still shocked, in my 40s, at the atrocious things people say to and about one another. I cannot speak for anyone else, but I do my very best to be a good parent to my girls. I am a parent FIRST and foremost, but I am human with normal stresses, and I make parenting MISTAKES all the time. I try not to judge other parents and the older I get, and my kids get, I realize how counterproductive ever doing so was. If I witness something truly concerning about a friend of my girls, I tell their parents. I cannot imagine being a 40 something grown up blasting a child and their parents on social media, especially when I didn’t really know the situation.

So, my initial reaction was to let this parent know, privately, that her information was false, inappropriate, and should never have been posted. Why are people so quick to judge? To put each other on blast for no other reason than to knock someone down and make yourself feel better? To feel validated if people support their anger and negativity? I will never understand it. And when something like this happens, and my stalker cat inside wants to go on the offense, I have to silence her. I remind myself that parenting is the most challenging role of my life, and adulting is unbelievably hard as it is. Engaging in negative banter with anyone is not changing or improving anything, nor is it making anyone feel better.

Do the best you can to be the best person you can. Leave the world a little better each day with some goodness that you send out. Try not to judge others, because frankly, we often do not know or understand everything. We all mess up, a lot! And no one judging anyone else’s mistakes is sending out positive vibes into the world. You can raise your kids to have good morals and character. It doesn’t mean they won’t disappoint you. But if we stop judging and either mind our own business, pray for others, or offer support instead, then at least we aren’t implying we are better than anyone. Two of the most commonly heard Bible verses are ‘Do not judge, lest ye be judged.’ And the other says ‘Let whoever is without sin cast the first stone.’ Taking the moral high ground can be like getting the wind knocked out of you. I pray myself nor my kids are the kind of people who get pleasure out of judging others and knocking others down. I wish all of us a more peaceful, less toxic, loving, and productive new year. Remember the only words and deeds we can control are our own. Make yourself proud. Thank you, Aunt Pat, for the inspirational quote I posted here!!!

Take Care of You

I read lots of good blogs/articles about motherhood. Top 10 ways to get your kids to listen, do chores, to bond with them, clean house hacks, organization hacks, cook the best dinners ever, how to work full time and be the best mom and wife ever, and on and on. One I read recently fit exactly where I am now. Take me as I am. Cut myself some slack. Get off the hamster wheel, merry-go-round, rollercoaster, whatever proverbial metaphor works for you. I was always stressed, unhappy, angry, bitter, and unable to find joy in my many blessings and I didn’t like myself very much. I felt like I was failing miserably in every aspect of my life and had no clue how to fix it. I prayed. I asked for help. I took time away. I would feel better for a day or two, and then I would suddenly be right back where I was. None of these were a permanent solution.

So, I started therapy with a woman recommended by a friend. I was very skeptical and almost didn’t go back after my first visit. I’m an intelligent woman. What could she possibly tell me that I haven’t already considered? What wisdom could she impart that could turn things around? But I continued to go. Each time, I would feel a little better, stronger, more confident. Nothing earth shattering was being said or was happening, but I could feel the changes inside.

It was probably my third or fourth visit when she asked me to describe a typical weekday and weekend in my house. After doing so very matter of fact, without much thought, I awaited her feedback on what I was doing wrong. I expected advice on how to manage things better, practical advice on how to be more productive. Instead she said, “Michelle, who is taking care of you?” I sat stunned for a bit, and genuinely considered her question. I answered with conviction, “No one.” Then, I began to cry.

In the weeks that followed, she got to know me as a person, and gave me small assignments that involved self-care. Pick up a hobby, exercise, go out with a friend, get out of the house to do something other than errands. I started painting, as I used to do with my grandmother. I began writing again. I try to be silly more and serious less. I try to worry less about things and people I cannot control and focus my attention on being my true self, the best possible version of who I inherently am. I am learning to say NO as well as speak my mind and stand up for myself. I started to realize I am smart, loyal, talented, hardworking, loving, and even funny! And it’s a work in progress, but it’s WORKING.

Does this resonate with other moms? Especially full-time working moms? I like to think that it does and there is a hidden camaraderie deserving of being acknowledged. Seeing myself again, as a PERSON, not just a mom, teacher, wife, housekeeper, and family member has been life changing. A quiet and deliberate eureka is taking hold in me as I discover self love again. The quality of the relationship I have with my own heart and mind is directly connected to my relationships with others. Taking care of yourself is not selfish!!! It is a basic necessity in this life if you want to be happy. So do not forget to take care of you. Choose yourself with purpose every single day.

Old-Fashioned Discipline

This is quite a controversial topic in our walk-on-eggshell society, and especially since I am a teacher, I will have to tread lightly so as not to offend any sensibilities. My entire first sentence speaks to what I feel is a scary trend in our world today-the lack of old-fashioned discipline. Being raised in the South, the rural Bible-belt South, I both loved and feared my mother, as she did her mother. She rarely used corporal punishment, but she could silence me with “the look”. I knew where the lines were, and I might have attempted to walk them like a tight-rope at times, but I rarely crossed them. If I put a toe over, I lost privileges until whatever time she felt I had done my penance. My grandparents weighed in on this, as well. Granted I had a little more leeway with them, but they had high expectations for my values and my outward behavior. I loved and respected these people, and to truly disappoint them was like a crack in my heart.

This is not a concept held exclusively by the South, either. My husband grew up in an old-fashioned home with his very Italian family. He might have been smacked with a broom or other cleaning utensil at times or slapped on the back of the head if he was being “fresh” (or disrespectful) with his parents or siblings. Adults and especially elder adults were held in the highest regard, and their words were like Gospel for kids to absorb and follow. Life was good and balanced. Families had fun together, shared daily meals, and went to celebrations often with extended family. He respected his parents and knew what they expected both in private and in public. He was a little harder to handle than I was, but he looks back on his childhood with fond memories and a healthy understanding of why his parents raised him the way they did.

Many people do not believe in that sort of revered respect anymore, and I believe that is a great shame for all of us. That respect for authority, and expectation of demonstrating manners extended beyond family, as well, and included other familiar adults, teachers, police officers, and more. More and more I hear about people feeling “entitled”, which boggles my mind. Everyone’s circumstances are different, but I was raised to believe that good things come to those who work hard for them. I am often appalled by things people say, or even more likely post, these days. Spouting hateful things to strangers because you have a difference of opinion, often about topics neither side can do anything about. Attacking or blaming others rather than God-forbid, taking responsibility for their own words and deeds. Whatever happened to “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all”? I understand that there are times people want/need to make their voices heard, and I am all for standing up for things you believe in, but not if you have to step on or belittle others to say it.

I have four daughters, all with spring birthdays, about to turn 11, 14, 10, and 3 respectively. My own family was complicated, but I mostly grew up as an only child, with a single mom, around lots of adults. I get a little too flustered and stressed, at times, when our home now feels chaotic (which is a little too often for my fairly quiet upbringing). I love my girls, more than my own life, but they drive me up a wall! I certainly make lots of parenting mistakes, but I know my end game. I see the big picture…to raise strong, responsible, repectful, hardworking, caring, moral and independent young women. It is not to always coddle, protect, and defend them, although I reserve the right to do so sparingly, as needed. I don’t want to be the kind of parent who makes excuses for my kids or myself. My kids mess up daily! I make them own up to it and make it right whenever possible. If I say I’m going to dish out a consequence, I do it. I don’t make promises, good or bad, that I don’t keep.

Their education is a top priority, above sports and other activities. To me extra-curricular activities are wonderful pieces to raising a well -rounded adult, BUT school is more important. My girls understand they are a privilege and a reward for doing their best in school. They can be taken away. They have phones with parental blocks and time limits, also which can be taken away, if their grades slip, if they don’t do their chores, if they are disrespectful to us or mean to their sisters. They have friends, parties, sleepovers, and social lives, but family and school come first. We are all contributing members in our home. I want them to know how to be on their own when they have to! And privacy? Kids have way too much today, in my humble opinion. I will be nosy and in my kids business and don’t care if they don’t like it! I do give them a little bit, ha ha, and trust them to an extent. But anytime my mom radar goes up, I go with my gut. I can apologize later, if I’m wrong.

As a teacher, I have always believed kids want to and will rise to high expectations. Set the bar too low and you impede them. Push them, support them, and believe they can. Gradually release responsibility to them. Hold them accountable. Teach kindness, acceptance, respect, and self-control.

Our own children will know we love them and will always be there for them, but they will understand why our expectations were what they were. We will help them see the big picture and the end game for their own lives and how to appreciate the small things and detours along the way. The negativity and finger-pointing we see today may be turned around with some good ‘ole old-fashioned discipline at home. It may not be the cure for all that ails us, but it’s not a bad place to start.

Making Friends

No one told me when I was a kid that making friends, GOOD friends, as an adult is friggin hard. Growing up, I had the same friends from first grade through high school. I was kind of an outlier then, too, though. I didn’t live in the same area as my friends, who all lived near each other. Didn’t go to the same church or public pool. And their parents were all friends, but not mine. No fault of anyone’s, just the circumstances. I spent most years as an only child surrounded by adults. I actually loved to read and my own imagination was enough fun for me for most of my single digit years. Looking back, I was kind of selfish and bossy around other kids, always wanting my own way. I’m not proud of that. But my mind and heart opened more as I and my awareness grew.

I had no concept as my social circle grew and spending time with friends was all I wanted to do, how quick the time would pass. And time, distance, and LIFE, would ensure those friendships would never be the same after graduation. That closeness, comfort, and knowing someone to the core was fleeting and rare and special. I wish I knew it then. But like many others I was eager to “kick the dust off” of my “crummy little town” and see the world. Everything would be bigger and better in the wide open spaces of the future. I married young, moved away, started a career and family, and left that little girl behind.

Now that I am in my 40s I see friendships much more clearly than I did then. I no longer go to bon fires in fields or house parties packed with people and loud music. I don’t have sleepovers where I get to just be silly, sing and dance, binge eat junk food, have makeovers, watch movies, and talk with angst about boys. I no longer go on trips and to camps with those friends relishing in that freedom. I MISS THEM. And while life has probably changed us, we are still those same kids deep down.

Friends like that now? One or two. And we cannot devote the same attention to those friendships. I find that other than the people I grew up with, I have only connected with folks over the years who exude personality traits I wish I had. Fun, boistrous, outgoing, brutally honest people who take no bull…. from anyone. And my favorite people from both the South and the North have those same traits. My hope for my girls is they are blessed with friends who are fun, caring, and different from themselves in some ways, but that share some core values. Friends who will love them, lift them up, and back them up when necessary. Ones who know them so well, they can tell them the God’s honest truth when no one else will. No matter where you grow up or hang your hat, everyone needs a friend or two like that. And don’t let anything get in the way of holding onto them.

Snow and Driving in the North vs. South

A snow day at home today with my 4 girls and I write this as I hear squealing, giggling and banging in the basement. I do not plan to drive anywhere today, but my husband had to go into work, which requires lots of DRIVING. The storm we are currently having is called a “bomb cyclone” storm, which sounds formidable, but it’s another way for the weather folks to alarm us! I swear they love anything with shock-value. My North Carolina family members are posting pictures and information about this snow, which is connecting us this week with common happenings.

The fact that my husband is driving for his job today makes me think of how different snow and driving is between the North and the South. I can remember missing what felt like 1-2 weeks of school for any level of snow and/or ice we got growing up. Mind you, it was rare, but if there was snow, it was a guaranteed day or more off. We made snow cream and tiny snowmen to commemorate the occasion. I think we had 1 “big” snow when I was about 5, and I’m guessing from pictures of me in my gaudy late 70s, early 80s snow gear that it might have been 3 to 4 inches. But my grandfather managed to help me and my people finger gloves build a monstrous snowman.

Here, it’s all about the timing. I can remember when I was teaching in Philadelphia my first winter here. We had what was to me a HUGE snowstorm on the weekend with over a foot of snow on the ground. When I heard I had to report to school on Monday morning ON TIME, I was like, are these people crazy?! Before I knew it, years later, I was zipping in the snow thinking about what weenies my NC peeps are about driving in it. Some years we have lots of snow, some just a little, and by a little, I mean only 1 or 2 big storms and however many small ones (They don’t really count.). Whether or not we miss school/work is all about the timing. When I hear about weekend snow, I’m like stink-a-dink, there goes any fun plans we could’ve had. Weekday snow isn’t even a guarantee. It has to be either a boatload of snow or close to the morning or afternoon commutes. If it messes with traffic, somebody is staying home. Traffic here is no joke, and it’s not even New York or LA. I could never survive that daily grind.

However, I can either proudly (or sadly) say that I have adapted greatly as a driver since moving North. Driving was a huge pleasure and feeling of freedom from the ages of 16 to 22. That’s how long I got to drive on my own in NC. I can still feel the wind on my face and see the farmer on his tractor waving at me while driving in my 4-door white Geo Prism. There were rarely many cars on the road, with most only being 2 lanes, and I often had to slow down for very slow cars or other farm equipment. If I was stuck behind something, I patiently waited until I had the yellow dotted line on my side and then my heart sped up as I carefully passed the other vehicle. At night I drove a little slower, as Southern darkness is enveloping, and there are no city street lights to guide your way. I just remember smooth sailing, few lights and stop signs, no hideous, confounding four-way stops, and no honking. Driving was a de-stressor, my quiet reflective time, and time to simply enjoy the beautiful scenery the country has to offer.

My first teaching in job in Philadelphia required me to take Roosevelt Boulevard to and from work everyday. Those who know this thoroughfare must have some idea of how much of a bucket of ice water this change was for me. Twelve lanes of traffic with people going 20 or more miles over the speed limit zig-zagging, honking, flipping many birds, rolling down windows to scream at people, and crossing over to the neighboring 3 lanes. This is not to mention the chore of turning left onto to THE BLVD when you don’t know the rules about pulling all the way up if you are near the front, God-forbid you try to turn in the center lanes. I apologize to my Southern readers, as you have no clue what I am talking about and probably have difficulty visualizing it. Anywho…within a year I was fitting in with the best of the Yankee Philly drivers on said blvd, much to my chagrin. In a way, I was proud of the confident, skilled driver I had become, but the Southern girl inside reminds me that I don’t have to be aggressive and rude.

Not all drivers here are aggressive and rude, but there are a lot more than where I grew up. Any I or people I knew encountered growing up sent us into a hissy-fit, talking about how they MUST be from up North! There are some rules of the road that Southerners need to understand if they come here. I will end today’s post with some rules for the road in the Philadelphia metro area. Hope you find them helpful and keep you and your love ones safe!

1. Most people come to a “roll stop” at any stop signs, not a complete one.
2. If you drive slow, stay in the right lane, but it does not guarantee your safety from honking or other obscenities.
3. At a four-way stop, you are supposed to go in the order in which you arrive to the intersection. If there is a tie, you can be nice by waving the other driver on or flashing your lights at them to signal. Or…you can punch it, and they might appreciate that, too. It saves time and guesswork.
4. At stoplights, some have a sign with “NO TURN ON RED”, which is referring to making a right turn on red. I know down South we have no such ridiculous thing, but you should honor this sign, and most people do. There are some who will ignore it, but only a huge jerk will honk or get mad at you for waiting.
5. There are some red-light camera intersections. I know you probably would never drive through a yellow light. But just in case, learn these quickly, so you do not get a photo of your license plate weeks or even months later with a bill for $100.
6. One of the most important rules is the letting cars in rule. If you are in heavy traffic, and cars need to merge into your lane, you are considered nice and are accepted if you let one car in. Any more than that may get you into trouble. And if you are the car merging, be sure to show gratitude. Many people won’t even let one car in, and they really appreciate manners!
7. You can wave at strangers for the heck of it, but it will probably confound them. And they may think you are crazy.

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Post-Christmas Triage

I had a minor surgery today…repairing a 9-year-old umbilical hernia. It was gifted to me by our 9-year-old, Maria, at her birth. Having always had an innie, the protruding belly-button was not aesthetically pleasing. The fact that it was hurting me more often prompted me to get it corrected after 9 years of ignoring it.

Even though I always had a little extra meat on my bones, my waistline remained relatively small, a blessing from a Southern relative or two. But after 4 kids and lots of good food, minus much exercise, that slim waistline steadily grew. I’m sure I would be skinny if I didn’t love soul food and “sweet with my meat”, like my Granddaddy did. The lack of exercise ever since my illustrious high-school sports career ended in 1994 didn’t help. So I was kind of hoping getting rid of my little hernia bulge would go a long way in shrinking my mom belly.

But I digress…the point of this post is to share my experience in triage today. All the Yankee staff members in the hospital opened up their kindness to me soon as I turned on the Southern charm. They were each awesome! The nurses, anesthesiologists, and doctors were simply amazing, doing their jobs, and going above and beyond to make me comfortable. I admit a little nervousness when one of the anesthesiologists said he had to put in my IV (As he had a bandaged thumb, which he said was due to a holiday kitchen accident, and was evidence that some men should just stay out of the kitchen…). I did, however praise his efforts citing how much I’m sure his wife appreciated the help (Men from all areas need their feathers preened to encourage continued assistance around the house!). I even told him it was the least painful IV I have ever had put in, which was true, and how impressed I was. Flattery goes a long way, especially when it is honest praise!

Back to the purpose of my story…there were interesting people across from me while I was waiting to be rolled back and then post op. The first was a man who genuinely looked like Santa. He babbled quite a bit to whomever visited his bedside, and I discovered plenty I didn’t need to know! It turned out he is retired but still likes to substitute teach. The kids call him Santa, which he kind of likes, so he lets them. He also gets some pretty high-paying Santa jobs during the holiday season. I found that neat, since my mom had just told me that some Santas with steady gigs can make 15K from Thanksgiving to Christmas! Lastly, he solidified himself as a unique character when he requested a second hairnet to protect his money-making white beard!

The other interesting characters include a husband and wife in their 60s, who were directly across from me. They represent #relationshipgoals (And no, I do not tweet, but I see that endearing hashtag on Facebook a lot.). She apparently had a gift-wrapping accident before Christmas. Long story short, she was wrapping at the dining room table, moved some chairs around, went to sit down, and nothing was there! She fell on her elbow and dislocated it. Arm in a sling since, she had to have it surgically repaired. I was being nosy because her husband was so dang sweet to her I couldn’t help it. From helping her change, folding her clothes, and massaging her, I thought he was a saint. Not to mention they were conversing the whole time and he was touching her like it was second-nature. Their love was like a warm, sweet summer breeze blowing to my side and it made me feel peaceful.

All the nurses and doctors were fantastic. I tend to get chatty, like many, when medicated and I asked everyone’s names, family info, holiday info, etc. Too bad I have a weak stomach because I could see myself in the medical field! I have many nurses in family and friends and just have incredible admiration for what they do.

So this is a heartfelt thank you, to the hospital staff and unknowing patients who game me something positive to write about today. That Christmas spirit is still hanging in there among many. Let it with you also!

Christmas Traditions, Here or There

This is a tough one, because in all honesty, I don’t know how my North or South Christmas traditions compare to those of other Northern or Southern folks. So, if my assessment is not relatable, I apologize! I write what I experience.

Growing up, the days leading up to the big holiday was just my mom and myself, since she was mostly a single mom. My birth family is hard to explain to anyone who didn’t know me from childhood. (Also a future complicated post!) Mom and I decorated and shopped together. A product of divorce, I spent some time with my father’s side of the family during the holidays. I visited his parents, siblings, and my cousins. Not bad, just different, similar to spending time with family that lives far away that you rarely see.

Mostly I remember going to my mom’s parents. Their home was my home away from home. Grandma’s house was full of warmth and delicious smells at this time. I can see her hunched over her big freezer pulling out items she made in advance. Her cluttered but clean house exuded her personality, as any good home should. Shopping and decorating was done early and we did a pot luck at G’mas every year. We all brought something, usually what each person was most talented at making, and G’ma had her few staples for us all to enjoy. Everyone walked in as if they were there all the time, setting to work to cook, clean, rearrange, or set up something. I imagine it wasn’t unlike Santa’s workshop, a well-oiled machine where everyone knew their job.

We were a church-going family. I sang in the choir during the holidays and even played hand bells. My church had a human Christmas tree for Christmas Eve carol singing that was open to the public. To this day, no holiday songs move me like the ones about Baby Jesus, the North Star, and the Wisemen. At G’mas, I would poke at the piano keys trying to play some holiday songs. One year, we even performed our own manger play in her dining room, with costumes and all. The kids played together, the adults caught up on the latest, and we all felt we were right where we belonged. The presents were late in the evening and frankly, I don’t recall them being all that important, other than folks hoping they brought joy to someone else. It was a quiet, peaceful, and reflective time for our family.

When I moved North, I joined my husband’s very Italian family holiday traditions. At times we have visited an aunt or cousin’s house near Christmas. We have even tried having Christmas gatherings at a restaurant, trying to get everyone together at least once a year. My husband’s family is pretty large, and it poses a real challenge to get everyone in one place. Once his mom’s mother passed on, there were no grandparents left to be the glue. His family is scattered, but no one more than an hour away. But our lives are busier and more complicated, the branches of the tree constantly reaching out to new areas with new people. And not everyone gets along with each other, which can make invites even trickier. So plans are often up in the air, or last minute.

We do have some of our own traditions, though. In the days before Christmas, we go to a local farm to see Santa and a drive-through light show. On Christmas Eve, my husband and I watch “Mickey’s Christmas Carol” and “Small One” with our kids. “Small One” makes me and my two middle girls sob every year, but I love them having that reminder of why we celebrate Christmas. (If your kids have never seen it, I highly recommend!!!) I usually take them to a Christmas Eve mass (I just became Catholic this year, converting from Presbyterian.). This is the first year I get to experience it as a Catholic. Once the kids go to bed, we watch “It’s a Wonderful Life”, which is probably my husband’s favorite holiday movie. I had never seen it prior to moving here, and I have to admit it’s a gem. Last year, we let the older girls stay up with us, but they still weren’t into it.

On Christmas morning, we open gifts in our house. Santa’s gifts are few and small and are unwrapped (He is way too busy to wrap all the gifts!), and there are a few from “Mom and Dad” for the girls to open. Then we walk across the street (Can anyone say “Everybody Loves Raymond”?) to my in-laws’ house. My husband cooks breakfast sandwiches for everyone (a truly monumental event, him cooking), and we open gifts with the grandparents and my husband’s siblings. We go home before lunch and enjoy our new goodies. The best part is we spend the entire day in our pajamas. We return to the in-laws’ for an early dinner and dessert. And it’s usually an early evening for us at home. It’s pretty low-key, and I have to say I like that. However, I do enjoy getting spending time with his extended family when we can make it happen.

I think both the North and South have holiday traditions that include people we care about. They greatly vary in both places depending on the family! I think it’s hard for everyone to make that transition from being a child, to a teen, a young adult, and then being the parent (or one of the old heads). My perspective and priorities have certainly changed! I believe traditions are important, but flexibility is equally important to be able to adapt and experience all the joy this season has to offer. I pray that we are giving our girls good childhood memories, but most of all, that we are teaching them about what truly matters in this or any season. LOVE. PEACE. KINDNESS. GIVING. HOPE. FORGIVENESS.