Guilt

So the Hubby's employer (better known as Satan's accomplices) changed his schedule at the last minute.  For most people this isn't a problem, but when you work out of state it does create a bit of a situation for the household.  The Hubs is Mr. Mom two days a week which is the best situation possible for our family.  The little guy only has to go to child care (ours is AMAZING by the way) three days a week so my mommy guilt isn't as large as it was with the older two that were in full time care.  Thanks to the company, I was left without childcare today.  My OCD, PPAD, and other assorted acronyms kicked in before I calmed down and sent a text to our child care provider.  Of course she didn't have drop in space at the last minute (which I totally expected) so I had to go to Plan C.  Plan B is to call my back up providers, including grandparents, college aged kiddos, and SAHM friends.  I completely skipped that step and called in a sub for myself for the day. 

If you know me, you know that is a difficult thing for me to do.  I hate missing work.  Part of it is because it is far more work to prep for a sub than it is to be at work.  Mostly, it's because I hate changing the routine of my kinders.  Kinders are religious routine followers.  Don't you dare change something up without warning them because they will hunt you down.  I had a kiddo one year grab my lesson plan book because I dared to change up the schedule.  He just to see the change in black and white.  Yep, it's that bad.  What makes it harder is having your go to subs not available for you either.  Handing off MY kinders to a new guest teacher was hard for me to wrestle with.  But I did it.  I did it because honestly, I needed a day with my baby.  In less than a month he'll be two.  He's our last baby so every first is a last to me. 

I know I changed the routine.  I know that my class could have a bad day today.  I know I'll regret getting nothing done but blogging, Facebook, and pinterest during his nap.  I know the professional in me is dying about the fact that I'm gone.  I also know that I got to play with my baby boy uninterrupted for 3 straight hours before he crashed into his bed, Mickey Mouse and football in hand.  And I know that makes it all worth it.

Update:  It helped my guilt a little that I spent part of nap time printing out some classroom materials (on my home computer since I can't print at work).

It's Official

The past two months have been a rollercoaster of emotions for me in my teaching. I've gone from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows. Teaching is rarely easy and we need to remember that at the start of each day, when you open your classroom door, it becomes all about you and your students.  Your students look to you to teach them.  To teach them, love them, and lead them.  And that's a powerful thing.  

Joy Suckers

     Lately I have fallen victim to the Joy Suckers, as my dear friend calls them.  You know who they are.  The ones that constantly complain and are so full of negative energy that you tense up each time you see them.  I know them because I've found that there are days when I roll with them.  Griping about this and that, full of hate and contempt, spewing my misery on every adult I talk to.  It's hard for me to pull myself out when I dig down deep with this crew.  My PPD and GAD make it easy to focus on the negative.  I cringe at the though of change, much less the actual living through it.  I put the spotlight on each and every thing that can, will, and is going wrong.  I push aside anything semi happy or positive.  And that makes me feel like crap.
     I decided yesterday that I have no one to blame for this attitude except myself.  Not my job, my kids, my husband, or my family.  It's all on me.  I thought about all those cheesy sayings about positive attitudes and realized that they are right.  I control my attitude and my fate.  Constantly complaining won't change anything.  I have to be a doer.  I have to do what I need to do to be happy.  Whining to every grown up within earshot isn't going to change something.  It just makes me the person people run away from when they see me walking down the hallway.  It's my job to be a role model for my children and my students by stepping up and using my big girl words to be the change that I want to be.
     One of the benefits of never being able to sleep is that I have plenty of time to browse pinterest.  I found this idea the other night and had to do it.  I feel that it's so easy to focus on the negative things someone does and much harder to see the good in them.  I wanted a way for everyone in the family to feel appreciated and to see in black and white (or blue, green, and red) how the people around them love and appreciate them.  There are days when I feel like a warden and not a mom, and I wanted a way to bring back that happiness.  By taking a few minutes each day to think of one really great thing each person did, I'm able to bring that focus back on the joy.  I'm filling myself and my family up with joy and hopefully refilling that which I've taken.  And the markers are available to anyone in the house, not just me.  I love that the girls can think about something involving the other sister that isn't a tattle.  And I love that John can see the good things that are happening when he is here.  

 

 

            
         I've also made a promise to myself that I'm going to stop being that person that sucks the joy out of those around me.  I want to be someone that others seek out because they enjoy being around me.  I want to be the friend that listens and doesn't focus on herself all of the time.  I want to stop and count my blessings, because I truly have many.

Balancing Act

C and I have established a very comfortable Sunday morning routine.  Well, it's comfortable for him, less so for me.  Basically, while everyone else is in Sunday school or church I spend 2 and a half hours chasing him around the chapel.  Our usual path takes us all over the chapel, including the kitchen (always have to stop in there for some muffins), the stained glass windows (where I name each and every color he points out to me), and eventually we end up outside (I have to wonder what the MP's that see me wandering around each week think).  I do this because at almost 22 months, he's not ready to sit down and be quiet during mass.  We often end up in the very back of the chapel and participate in the last 20 minutes or so, and that's okay with me.  I'd rather spend quality time with him like this, then forcing him to be quiet when he's really not ready to be.  We talk, interact, and enjoy each other.  Having attended the same church since I was five years old, we know most of the church goers, and most are familiar with our routine.  Today while walking down the hall, I overheard a comment that was made about me and in a nutshell is was that "you'd think with all the running around she does chasing after him she wouldn't be so big."  Ouch!

After hearing that comment I had an hour to walk around, "alone" in my thoughts (C isn't exactly one to to hash out concerns with).  Anyone that knows me, knows that I'm not the smallest size I could be.  That's obvious. I don't defend that either.  There is no excuse.  I've been called lazy when I say it's hard for me to get the gym.  Straight to my face even.  Yes, I only make it to the gym when John is home.  Why?  Because I personally can't justify bringing my children to the gym daycare so I can go when he's gone.  I just spent an entire day away from them while I was at work (another thorn in the rose that is my mama guilt).  The time I get to spend with them is so important to me and to bring them there feels to me like I am saying "Hey, I missed you for those 9 hours we were apart.  Quick. let's head to the gym so I can be away from you some more while I do something for me!"  Right or wrong, those are my feelings.  When John is gone for those 5 days each week, I find ways to include the kids in my workouts.  We go for runs and bikes rides and bust a move to Just Dance and wii fit.  My favorites are the impromptu dance parties in the kitchen.  Running on a treadmill doesn't hold a candle to giggles with my girls in the kitchen while we watch their brother shake his booty.  I wouldn't trade running alongside R the first time she learned to ride without training wheels or the talks my big nine year old and I have as we watch the other two run around the park.  Sure it takes longer for me to break out into a sweat, and no it's not the most efficient workout, but it is what it is.  I like that I'm showing my children that fitness and being healthy isn't just about going to a gym, that time together is precious, and that we can meet both needs if we work at it.

I also struggle with the balance of finding time for me, and what I need personally to thrive, and meeting the needs of those around me.  I need to workout.  I feel so much better when I do.  Thanks to watching the successes of some dear friends I have found that running gives me a high that I never knew possible.  Do I look like Phoebe from Friends when I'm out running?  Hell yeah!  But I rock that run and I feel amazing!  I enjoy having an hour to be with my thoughts, to process them and organize them, because it helps me be a better friend, wife, teacher, and mother.  Those feelings are so powerful to me that I often wonder why I don't seek them out more often.  I've learned that it's because I don't feel like it's okay to put myself first.  I watch my darling hubby head off to the gym each and every day he is home with little concern for anything else but his need for a workout.  He needs it, so he does it.  Simple as that.  He never asks for "permission" to go, which is something I feel like I need.  I need someone to give me permission to go.  To say, "Gina, go to the gym/for a run/to Starbucks and I'll take the kids/make dinner/take care of things here."  I'm no martyr.  I know that things will function just fine if I leave for an hour.  I sincerely know that.  But it's so hard to say that I am important and worth it.  That taking care of me doesn't mean the loves of my life are pushed to the side, it just means it's my turn to be first.  Taking turns is important.  But man is it hard for me to put myself into first place.   

I don't feel that the judgement that was placed on me today was fair, and I also don't want you to think that I am standing in judgment of anyone else for their choices.  I've come to realize that as a parent, you have to make the best decisions for your family.  If you do that, then they are the right ones.  End of story.  But for me that's a hard thing to do.  I need to fully embrace the thought that if it's important, I'll make time for it, if it's not, I'll make excuses.  I just hope I can accept that my needs are important and that every so often, being in first place is the right place for me to be.   

     

       

      

As a teacher, I can honestly say that each and every day is different.  The plans are set, materials are prepped, but things don't always go the way you want them too.  This year I have 26 amazing, endearing, occasionally frustrating, gorgeous miracles that I get to come in contact with five days a week.  There are days that I feel so motivated, inspired, and moved by the things that happen in my classroom.  Then there are days where I wish there was a wine bar in the teacher's lounge.  But every so often there is a day that moves me to tears, makes me swell with pride, and on these days I can feel my heart grow 100 times bigger.  Yesterday was one of those days.

"A" came to my class four years ago.  He was able to speak a total of five words.  It would be remiss of me to go into any further detail, but the stories I could tell you about him would break your heart.  He had a long way to go academically, but had the sweetest and biggest heart on the planet.  He spent two years in my kindergarten classroom.  Two years of growth, of heartache, of success, of determination, and most of all, of hard work.  Two years of worming his way into my heart forever too.  I reluctantly gave him away to first grade but knowing he was moving on to someone that would love him, teach him, and inspire him made that easier.  Now he's a big second grader.  He's with an amazing teacher who also happens to have a huge heart.  Yesterday she sent A down to my classroom to read to me.  It sounds so simple, but if you knew the path this kiddo had taken to get to this point you would understand the magnitude of this event.  My teaching assistant and I both stopped what we were doing and listened to him read.  My kindergartners stopped their activities and listened in too.  And read he did.  He read with voice, he read with purpose, and he read like any other second grader would read.  It was one of the most beautiful sounds I have ever heard.  And I cried.  My assistant and I both gave him the biggest hugs and told him that we were so proud of him.  And I cried.

I am crying now as I think about that moment.  The kids in my classes smile and nod each year when I tell them that they are forever my babies.  They don't understand that it's the truth.  They are forever in my hearts and I live for each milestone I get to see them reach.  It's moments like yesterday that help me remember why I do what I do.  And remind me why I absolutely love it.

There is nothing sweeter than a snuggle after bath time.  It's so easy to get caught up in the busy nighttime routine and forget to stop and be present.  A mother's work is never done, but those are the things that can wait.  My baby won't be a baby for much longer. 

My goal this year is to enjoy the little things more.  This picture is a start of that.  It is a simple memory of a fun afternoon spent with a great friend, the first time C got to decorate Christmas cookies, and a reminder that sometimes it's okay to relax and enjoy being a mom.