Where did the last month go?!

Seriously...a month?  I have no idea where the last 32 days have gone.  To say we've been busy would be putting it mildly!  Let's see...

In the last month "we" have:

Had a cracked skull
Two ER visits (one for a staple removal, which was worse than having them put in, by the way!)
Not had a single full night of sleep
Been berated on the phone by a parent for 40 minutes
Had a family of Florida visitors (it was so fabulous to have my oldest friend and her family at our home, and to watch out kids play so well together!)
Gone to the Children's Museum on Navy Pier (fabulous!)
Had a California day tripper (so excited to see my dad)
Two nights of parent/teacher conferences
Cooked Thanksgiving dinner
Decorated for Halloween
Gone Trick or Treating
Undecorated for Halloween
Decorated for Thanksgiving
Undecorated for Thanksgiving
Decorated for Christmas
Brought Jack, our elf, back
Put up the Christmas tree
Set up the Christmas town
Made a few "thank you" gifts for the girls' teachers
Created a basket of "gifts" for the month of December (including dinner for the ER staff...we are regulars, after all)
Tried to convince my youngest sister to come visit over Christmas break (unsuccessfully)
Listened to Elmo sing "Deck the Halls" approximately 358 times
Run behind Sophia trying to break every single fall
Managed to hide Jack every night (huge success)
Planned a birthday party
Ordered a birthday shirt (just in time, paid rush delivery)
Organized a holiday card writing activity for my students to send to Veterans and the Elderly
Graded a few papers (and by a few, I mean it...I am SOOOOOO behind)
Taken family pictures (after getting everyone ready and in the car on the wrong day!!)
Tried a new frozen yogurt place
Assembled a doll house
Cleaned out Sophia's clothes (including throwing some away...this is very hard for me!!!)
Did a little Black Friday shopping (definitely not the same without my mom)
Given up on several reality singing shows
Pinned a few easy recipes, crafts, and classroom ideas
Folded approximately 42 loads of laundry
Washed 1,423 dishes
Had a "debriefing" with my new coworkers
Enjoyed a few glasses of wine, beers, and hard apple ciders
Spent some quality time with my husband (never enough of this)

No, really, where did the last month go?

ineptitude

It has been quite some time since I felt that I was in the wrong profession.  I started teaching my first year in the middle of the year, February 13, to be exact.  And even though that was a challenging year (self contained Reading 9-12 and two blocks of Read 180) by Spring Break I felt good.  I didn't always know exactly what I was doing, and I was winging it a lot of the time, but I felt confident.  This was largely in part to my principal.  If I had an idea, even if it was unconventional, she would buy into it if I was able to adequately support my theory.  This taught me to think outside of the norm, look at what else could be done, and research best practices.  I loved it.  And my confidence soared.  And through the years my test results proved that I was a capable, successful teacher.  (Although test scores are only the tip of the ice berg, in that district, they matter...a lot.  The real evidence is in the e-mails I still receive from former students.)

Today, and quite honestly for the last eight weeks, I've wondered about my chosen profession.  I began my teacher career in a high school.  This wasn't by default.  I knew that I loved English, analysis, writing, and digging deep into a text.  I loved the idea of turning on the proverbial light bulb for my students.  I felt that in middle school there wasn't that opportunity, mainly because they just can't have those in depth conversations.  It's not their fault, they just aren't there yet.  I remember doing some observation hours with a friend of mine who taught 6th grade and saying to her at the end of the day, "I don't know how you do this.  They are so needy."  Maybe this was a glimpse into what would become my reality.  I should have known better than to open my mouth.  

Now, eight years later I am faced with this precise challenge.  And I'm reevaluating if this is the right "placement" for me.  I'm struggling with classroom management in a way I never even dreamed of.  My students don't stop talking...EVER!  They have questions about questions.  They ask me questions about their answers on tests.  They repeat questions their peers ask.  They ask me questions immediately following giving them that exact information.  The talk when I pause to breathe.  I inhale, they talk...to their neighbor, to themselves, to the air in front of them.  Yesterday I was interrupted so many times by blurted out questions that I forgot what I was trying to say.  I tossed my papers on my desk and just sat down.  I'm not sure how to combat this.  There must be a way because my team leader has just celebrated her 20th year at this school.  I remarkable achievement, I have to tell you.  

I just want to teach.  Really.  That's all I want to do.  But the reality is there are always challenges for teachers.  We are always teaching elements of life rather than academics.  And these "extra curricular" assignments are equally important.  In my previous high school I was teaching self confidence to students who read several grades below level.  I was showing students to recognize their successes; passing the FCAT, earning all Bs, and working full time to keep the electricity on at your parents' home all simultaneously.  I was helping students see that what you were born with is not what you have to settle for.  Here, in a very affluent neighborhood, where students have better cell phones and laptops than I do, I'm teaching other life lessons.  Organization.  Time management.  Collaborating with their peers...effectively.  Confidence (in a whole different league).  Self reliance.  Accountability.  Note taking.  AND LISTENING SKILLS!  (This is their number one area of opportunity!)  For a generation (and demographic) that is used to instant and constant gratification, the idea of sitting, taking a test, and waiting several days to find out their scores, is foreign.  They don't trust themselves to read the questions correctly.  They don't want to get anything wrong...ever.  In their eyes it's a failure, not an opportunity to learn something new, either about themselves or the material.  This impacts every aspect of my class.  

I know that teaching these skills has the potential to change the lives of these students.  And there is extreme value in this.  I just don't know if I'm the best one for this job.  I go to work every day preparing, researching, planning, and executing lessons with 110%.  I am always looking to better myself as a teacher.  But these days every evaluation of myself, my classroom, my expectations and lessons, has led me to change these things.  And at the end of every week I'm back at square one.  I don't know if this is a reflection of me, my students, or a combination of the two.  I miss conversations about literature and analyses of characters through song lyrics.  I miss digging through lesson plans and using technology in a way that enhances the learning process.  And I miss my own confidence.  

But when I look at those faces, those eleven and twelve year-old faces that are sitting in front of me, I block out their own insecurities and try to focus on the promise that lays before them.  And I wonder what role I will have in their futures.

A timestamped day...

5:45: Wake up to my alarm clock (iPhone) playing so softly that I jolt awake and wonder how long it's been going off

5:52: My husband comes in the bathroom, kisses me good morning and asks how I slept.  It's a brief, but thoughtful conversation, that makes me smile.

6:08: Decide I better get a move on and quickly finish my make up

6:13: Wake Bella up, get her dressed and brush her teeth

6:20:  Wake the other sleeping darling, who isn't quite so darling this morning

6:51: Back out of the driveway (only 6 minutes behind schedule) for the first and only time today!

7:08-7:58: Sit in traffic entirely too long to go approximately 13 miles

8:10: Deliver a wedding present to a friend, only four months late (still within the acceptable 6 month range) and hope that she finds it as personal and special as I do

8:25: Have a meeting about a student who needs a little more encouragement to get on track...AKA What else can I do to help?

The rest of the school day goes by in a blur...

3:45: Sit through a meeting that sounds like it will change the course of my professional life in the next two years, but only offers a few concrete answers for the immediate future; welcome to education

5:38: Finally get to my girls

5:57: Have a conversation with Bella about what we should have for dinner.  She says pizza...again...I convince her to have breakfast, complete with french toast

6:03: Open the door and am greeted immediately by the stench of dog poop...watch my dog step in it and trek it through the house

6:04: Put the dogs outside and pray that Maggie doesn't escape...again

6:06: Walk to the foyer and discover dried dog pee on the floor...this night just keeps getting better!

6:06: Clean up the dog poop, clean the carpet, but decide to leave the dried pee until the girls are eating

6:10: The doorbell rings...the kids next door have found my "missing" dog...Bella climbs over the gate in the playroom!

6:15: Angry with myself for talking Bella into a different dinner when there are perfectly edible leftovers in the refrigerator, I begin cooking dinner

6:32:  We sit down to eat, everyone asks for seconds, and for a short while, life is good.

6:58: I decide to steam the floors (this is better to get done now so that I can "relax" after the girls go to sleep)

7:04: Decide that blogging is waaaaaaaay more important than a bath right now.

7:20: Sophia sits in front of the television and watches "Tangled"...and I don't feel an inkling of regret!

7:30:  Bella starts singing a song with Rapunzel...not the fun, dancing around, up beat one, but the slow one "And at last I see the light..." and I realize I'm in deep trouble.  She's seen this far too many times!

The night will continue with bath and bed for the girls, probably some dishes and laundry for me.  And maybe a little reading (I'm only 1/3 into my book club book that is due on Friday during lunch.)  Now, if I could just get something done around here...

Looks like grading papers will have to wait, again.

18 minutes...

That's all it took. Eighteen minutes from the time the nurse took Sophia back for surgery to the time I went back in recovery to scoop her up in my arms again. Yep, 18 minutes to hook her up to three monitors, sedate, implant two tubes, wake, and move her. That's pretty impressive. And she did great.

I, honestly, wasn't nervous about this day.  I had several people ask me how I was doing or feeling, but the reality was that I wasn't feeling much else than relief.  Sophia has been averaging an ear infection every 3-4 weeks.  I think every time she's seen my mom she's been sick, in some capacity.  She's a great sleeper, so that is never an indication, but she hasn't been her happy self in quite some time.  As soon as she seemed to get over one illness the next set in.  It was exhausting.  In six weeks of school I had already missed three days of work.  And although work cannot be the only reason to make this decision, it certainly played a part, even if only because she's been THAT sick.  When I finally asked the pediatrician for a recommendation for an ENT, I put it off for a few weeks; she had turned one and it's not uncommon for things to make a turn.  But three weeks later, like clock work, she came down with croup.  And a mild ear infection.  So we trekked to the ENT and 6 days later we had tubes.  And I am not looking back.

Immediately following waking up from her morning nap, 2 hours after the surgery, Jason and I put her in the car to go to the mall, and she talked the entire way there!  Talked!  Not just a few babbling words, this girl was TALKING!  I looked at Jason and said, "She has not stopped talking since she woke up!"  Now, this may have had something to do with the fact that Bella wasn't in the car, but maybe not.

She's eaten more for each meal than she has in weeks.  In fact, she had a major melt down this evening, before dinner, simply because she was STARVING!  I don't know if this is common, but it seems like all of a sudden she has her appetite back.

Tonight she said "yellow".  And the words "baby" and "Daddy" are very obviously more clearly pronounced.

A teacher at school today said she was completely different; "very vocal".

Another one said she was so happy all day long.

She took a two hour nap today at school (this is VERY uncommon there).

She walked up to me and just wrapped her arms around my legs.  (Was she saying "thank you"?)

She was laughing tonight while she was playing with Bella.  Not just playing near each other, but with each other.

She burped, and it must have sounded differently (or louder) and it scared her to tears!

She says "cheers" when we're eating.  This started a few days before the tubes, but it's so clear, now.

She turned to look for the kids coming out of the house across the street, in the dark...she heard them.

But most importantly, she just seems happy.  And content.  And "normal".  I know it might sound kind of strange, but it was like a switch was flipped.  The doctor said that she had another ear infection when he went in to insert the tubes.  This was the last piece of information that solidified knowing that we made the right decision.  He drained the infection and inserted the tube.  We had no idea.  No fever.  We've just grown accustomed to her behaviors.  Doctors have told us, seemingly from birth, that she had fluid in her ears.  I often heard "no infection, but there's fluid".  And now I'm wondering how that's impacted her quality of life up to this point.  But she woke up from that first nap a different baby.  I'm not sure where you draw the line between coincidence and clear effects.  But I'm starting to draw my own conclusions.  Who knows what this cold and flu season will bring, but I'm feeling better about it and less paranoid.

In classic Danielle fashion, I took pictures of everything.  This girl just makes me smile.  Especially when she gets that devious look...wonder where she got that one from?!

Yes, she was this happy at 6:30 in the morning...

 

Killing time in the waiting room...lol...she's a riot!

She's just recently grasped how to use crayons effectively.  We were just getting settled in when they called us back!

wiggly and blurry

Laughing her head off...might have something to do with the relaxing drugs!                                                                

One of the most amazing things about yesterday was simply being able to spend time with Sophia, just Mommy, Daddy, and Sophia.  Don't get me wrong, I missed having Bella with us, but it was so wonderful to just stare at Sophia doing simple things, like watching the water fountains in the mall or eating lunch.  When I started to feel guilty I reminded myself that Bella had 20 months of us all to herself.  Sophia will never know that kind of undivided attention.  Making the time to spend individual time with each of our girls must be a priority.  They are siblings, but they are also individuals.  I want to make sure that each of them always knows how special and unique they are.  Yesterday was a great reminder of why this is so important.

The Father/Daughter Bond

I've been mulling over this post for a while.  Despite what you might have thought when you clicked on this link, it is not about my husband and my daughters (at least not on the surface).  It is about me and my dad.

For years I talked about my "real dad" and my "step dad".  This was for lack of a better term; biological dad sounded ridiculous.  The reality is, I have two dads.  Really.  I have been blessed to have two men help shape my adulthood.  I've joked with my mom for years that my husband could not be a better mix of both of these men.  It's true...and kind of weird.

My dad, the man who gave me half of my DNA (and more than half of my strong-willed personality, if you ask my mom), and I have not always seen eye to eye.  It is not a secret that my parents were very young when I was born.  My mom was 16 and my dad was 17.  This is shocking to many because I seem so "normal".  lol  I've been told this many times...and this is, honestly, a testament to my mother...keep reading.  For years my dad and I had a very sketchy relationship. I remember hating to visit him at times and being enamored with him at others.  As an adult I have come to understand that this negativity between us stems largely from our similarities; note: strong-willed personalities.  I remember crying when I had to get on the plane to visit him in Colorado.  And I remember rolling my eyes at him...a lot.  But I also remember laughing so hard that I cried, screaming while I was going down the Alpine Slide, white water rafting, and watching my first MLB baseball game.  But all of these good memories were tainted for the longest time.  I missed him.  I felt like he had abandoned me.  And it didn't matter that I had a wonderful step-father who loved me like I was his own child, I wanted my dad.  And I spent many years feeling like I wasn't good enough because he wasn't around.  But for years my mom "made" me get on that plane.  And she made sure that we talked on the phone.  She bridged the gaps between my dad's family and her own, even if it meant driving me to multiple houses on holidays.  And even though, at the time, I didn't understand her decisions, and I didn't always (okay, rarely) agreed with them, she was right to do it, and I am better off because of it.

It wasn't until I was about 16 or 17 (not coincidentally the ages of my parents at my birth) that I started to understand what it must have been like for my parents.  Until that time, I hadn't known anything differently.  I had a young mom.  So what?  I went to Kindergarten singing "Like a Virgin".  So what? I was happy, healthy, and, really, living in my own world.  But as I neared adulthood, and I looked at what lay ahead of me, I began to realize what my birth meant to my parents' futures.  Not in an "I bet they wish I had never been born" kind of way.  It was really just a realization of what it must have meant for their lives to be turned upside down.  To have people tell them (people that they loved) that they shouldn't "keep" me, that they'd never be successful parents.  To have to fight that battle and break those stereotypes EVERY DAY!  I began to understand.  They were kids.  Really.  My mom stepped up to the plate in a way that I don't understand, even today.  I couldn't have done it the way she did.  My dad still, to this day, reminds me what a remarkable woman my mom is.  But we all know what they say about the maturity level of teenage boys.  I began to understand how scared and overwhelmed my dad had felt.  I began to understand that it didn't have anything to do with me.  And I began to forgive him.

And then my grandmother died.  And I was devastated.  I was just beginning to reconcile all of these conflicting emotions I was harboring, and my world was turned upside down.  There are so many days that I look at Bella and Sophia and hear what Grandma Resy would say about them!  She was an amazingly kind-hearted woman.  I am so blessed to have so many memories of her (again, I thank my mom for this).  But this unexpected heart-breaking event brought my dad and I closer together.  Maybe that was her last gift to us; a reminder of life's fragility.  And a challenge not to let the past rob us of a future.

For the last ten years my dad and I have reconciled the past.  We've talked about it.  A lot.  We've cleared the air.  We've let go.  And I've forgiven.  I've learned a lot about myself by rebuilding my relationship with my dad.  And in the process I found a great friend.  My dad makes me laugh.  He keeps me grounded.  He tells me like it is.  He challenges me to think outside of the box.  He pushes me to do the right thing, even when that may be the hardest path.  And he loves me.  My dad tells me, more than anyone I know, that he's proud of me.  He compliments me more on my abilities and successes as a parent than about anything else.  And he's never shy about his past.  He's told me, "I know what I'm talking about because I've made a lot of poor parenting decisions.  But you and Jason are excellent parents."  I'm not sure that there is anything more vulnerable or genuine than those words.

Letting go of the past and allowing yourself to move forward is the most difficult decision anyone can make.  But it is a decision.  It is a choice.  It is empowering.  And it is beautiful.

I'm Late..I'm Late...

Dear Lord, smack yourself for thinking I was talking about THAT kind of late!!!

The late I'm talking about is the habitual 15 minutes, thank you cards in the mail 3 months after the fact,  one week, two weeks, 6 weeks late for birthday/Christmas/Mother's Day/Grandparents' Day/you name it!  I'm wondering if there will ever come a day when I will get these things out in a timely fashion.  I recently found a Halloween craft the Bella made for my dad...last year...in an envelope, addressed, just waiting to be stamped and mailed.

I have the best of intentions.  I buy Father's Day cards for my dads weeks in advance, but they sit on the counter until a week after.

I bought a sentimental Christmas card for Jason only to leave it tucked away in a folder (where he couldn't find it!)

I made Grandparents' Day crafts/frames for 8 different grandparents...they've been sitting on my counter for two weeks.

Tonight I finally tackled my list...

Thank you cards for Sophia's birthday (6 weeks ago).  Thank you cards for my birthday (also 6 weeks ago).  Grandparents' Day (1 1/2 weeks ago).  But just when I breathed a sigh of relief, I realized that I forgot two thank yous.  But in the grand scheme of things, I think this is pretty good.  Last year's thank yous from Bella's birthday and Christmas never made it out of the house.  Or at least I'm pretty sure about this.  Maybe a few made it, but I am almost 98% positive I never wrote them/mailed them.  I am not proud of this.  Not at all.  But in my defense, I had a 2 year old and a 4 month old; try to keep things organized enough to write thank you notes...just didn't happen.  And the reality is, living away from so many generous family members and friends, our house has turned into a Fed-Ex hub around the holidays.  I have to find a better tracking system...don't open ANYTHING until Christmas!

It would be really easy to just brush this off, send a quick text with a picture of Sophia playing with her toys and say "thanks".  But that's not what I was taught.  The written thank you note is an under appreciated novelty these days.  As a child I was not allowed to cash a check or have the money I was given for my birthday or Christmas until I sat down and wrote the thank you.  This practice is so engrained in me that I still do this.  I just deposited checks for Sophia last night.  This is something I want my children to do.  I want them to understand how meaningful it is to take a few moments to write a personalized thank you.  I don't write "Thanks for the gift."  I tend to write a novel...go figure!  I write something specific about how Sophia has reacted to the present (some things she was obsessed with right out of the box) or something silly ("Sometimes I have to wrestle Bella to play with my new Minnie Mouse, but don't worry, I win!") or if we're saving the checks, what we're planning on doing with them ("Mommy and Daddy are saving your generous gift to put toward a new swing set for me and Bella.")  I want everyone to know that we are sincerely grateful for their kindness and generosity.  And that we understand how blessed we are to have such wonderful friends and family members.  It is worth the time to let our family know they are appreciated.

So, to those who fell through the cracks last holiday season, please don't believe for a second that we were ungrateful.  Or that we didn't take the time, with each gift, to talk about who it was from and how thoughtful it was that you had sent it (Christmas presents took us three days!).  We take our time.  It's not a wrapping paper destroying party.  It's really an opportunity to teach our children about the kindness and generosity of others.  And I promise you, we took our time with your gift.  We made a connection with Bella about the gift.  This is evident, when months later, she will play with a toy and say, "This puzzle is from my friend Sophia, for my birthday."

Tonight Bella said to me when I tucked her in, "Are you going to sleep now?  Or are you writing thank yous?  To Mimi and Papa?.  Okay, Mommy.  That's very nice."


Our children are listening, watching, and absorbing every single facet of our lives, and tonight I am very proud of this.

Are you going to try for another?

A few random "ah-ha" moments from the week...

It doesn't matter how often I do the their laundry, my children manage to fill up their hamper before I get a chance to put the last load away.

If I wait long enough, I've almost emptied the dishwasher by using the dishes in it!

I can get a week's worth of work done if I just get to work 30 minutes earlier...and close my door.

No one compares to your favorite babysitter.  (Who happens to be coming home from college next weekend...already booked her!)

Even when I say I'm going to go to bed early, it NEVER happens!

Okay, now on to the important stuff...

No mother wants to be judged.  Especially not by another mother, or worse, another woman who doesn't have children (and happens to still live a "dream" life).  So in order to "save" herself, if a mother wants/needs to say something that might be perceived as negative, she will undoubtedly begin with something like, "Don't get me wrong, I love my kids..."

So, don't get me wrong, I love my kids (lol), but last week I spent a lot of time with Sophia.  Because I stayed home from work with her two days last week, I had the opportunity to just hang out with her.  I didn't have much work to do at the time, so it was kind of nice.  She wasn't feeling well, so we couldn't do much, but it was nice to just hang out with her.  At one point we were sitting on the couch and I thought about how much easier my life would be if we had only had Bella. But this wasn't in the I-wish-we-never-had-a-second-baby type of way.  It was in the I-sure-as-Hell-don't-want-a-third way!  I look at Sophia and I love her in a way that I didn't know that I could.  I love her in the way I was afraid I would never be able to.  I look at her sleeping and I feel overwhelmed with joy.  And lately I'm looking at her and thinking about how quickly she's growing.  She's a toddler.  A full fledged toddler.  And she's happy (as long as there isn't an ear infection on the horizon!).  We have finally moved onto milk...lactose free milk, but still milk.  And we've moved beyond bottles.  Why would I want to go back?  We're moving into the stage that requires little more than a cup in order to leave the house for hours.  She can walk out to the car.  They are moving her up to the toddler room at school a few days a week.  Why start over?  In all honesty, I look at her and think about the hard times.  The sleepless nights and the crying.  And maybe it's selfish, but I'm happy with my two girls.  There are two legs in my lap, two hands to hold, and two cheeks just begging to be kissed.  Two hips and to arms in order to balance my two girls.  That's perfect for me.