It’s quiet except for the sound of the heater kicking on and the wind howling outside.  My feet are up on the chaise, covered by highly colorful shay infused socks. I’m feeling pretty comfy and a little spoiled actually. The Christmas trees’ lights are on, (yes, there are two) covered in ornaments from Christmases past.  I decorated one and David decorated the other.  Mine is covered in ornaments that Doug and I bought over the years to represent us as well as ornaments given to us that have special meaning.  David’s is covered with little drummer boys, nutcrackers, snowmen and santas, hanging beside little school pictures surrounded by gold, spray painted pasta.  David decided to include 1st Christmas ornaments of all three of them as well.

The trees really do reflect our past; Christmas before, during and after boys, Christmases in Kentucky, Ohio and Nebraska.  The little trumpets, clarinets, treble clefs and drums represent our musical passions, while things like nutcrackers and snowmen reflect phases of our kids’ lives.  I can look at an ornament and be taken back in time instantly.  My palm tree and South Carolina ornaments are especially great to look at for that reason!

After 37 years of marriage we’ve accumulated a lot of ornaments and not all of them make it out each year.  I have so many wonderful Christmas gifts included in there from students and I try to rotate those from year to year as there’s just not enough room to put them all.  Standing guard at the front door are two snowmen, made with love from a teacher friend who would give everyone on the staff some kind of stuffed gift each year.  She customized mine to always include something musical.

And then there are my different decorating/color phases.  I remember wanting so badly to have a “designer” tree with color coordinated ornaments and ribbon, some years with baby’s breath tucked in among the branches, pine cones during other years and most recently curly branches covered in gold glitter.  I began with dusty rose many years ago, went to purple, then burnt orange and gold and now teal and lime green with a little hint of orange thrown in.  Kind of going for the retro 60’s vibe.  I never went for the standard green and red color scheme for some reason. However, as the years went on and the boys grew older, I found myself wanting to hang more and more of the silly grade school ornaments and the designer tree wasn’t such a big deal anymore.

When two of my boys got married, they both made it a point to show their brides special ornaments on the tree, explaining where they came from and why they were important.  It almost seemed like a rite of passage as they joined our family. Ornaments that my mom made are now in Tyler and Lauren’s home.  Images of Doug’s grandparents grace our tree, bringing another generation into our home.

And aside from all of the secular and family ornaments we’ve collected there are always reminders of why we really celebrate Christmas.  There is a wooden cross and a bell brought back from the Holy Land by a former pastor given to employees of the church when I was a church secretary.  “Jesus is the reason for the season” hangs in the middle of the tree to give us a daily reminder of God’s love for us.  The while lights represent Christ as the light of the world and reminds us to be a reflection of that light.

While these trees represent the best of our past as a family, it leaves our future wide open.  I look forward to seeing ornaments that represent a growing family with grandchildren and maybe another daughter-in-law some day.  How many more ornaments will be blessed to have as a couple?  What will be hanging on our tree in the coming years to represent future passions and adventures?

 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

So while these ornaments represent the fleeting ghosts of Christmases past, there is so much to look forward to.  How can we not have hope when He has given us so much already.  Wishing everyone the hope of Christmases to come as we celebrate the birth of Christ.

 

 

My hands were full.  I was holding my coat, my husband’s lemonade and the gift bag he had received when he was stopped by someone who asked “can I have a picture with you?”.  Now, I don’t mean to say that my husband gets asked to have his picture taken with people all the time, but it WAS after a concert and he WAS in this nice tux.  Then this student asks me, “would you take our picture?”.  So, I smiled, set everything down, took a couple of pictures and picked everything up while he said thank you to Doug.

I stopped to put on my coat when another family stopped Doug to say thank you and congratulate him on the performance.  I tend to step back a little when this happens because, well, the focus is all on him.  And I’m really proud of him and the hard work he puts into what he does, so it’s fun to see the recognition he gets from students and families.  But it wasn’t always this way.

There’s a picture in one of many boxes of pictures of Doug when he was teaching high school that is the perfect visual for how I used to feel.  It’s a beautiful fall day, the kids are getting ready to perform at a marching band contest and Doug is standing with them, the center of attention in his suit, looking every bit the professional.  And there I am, standing way to the right, my hands behind my back, head slightly down, watching from afar.  There is a sharp contrast between the confidence on one side and the lack of on the other.

You see, Doug was doing what I thought I wanted to do but had failed to achieve.  So instead of figuring out who I was supposed to be, I become this tag-along, someone who was just good enough at teaching visuals for marching band, someone who got to hang out with the staff, instead of trying to figure out what I was meant to do.  And the result was I felt left out, empty, useless.  Not ME. This was not something Doug had done, but I had relegated myself to just being “the director’s wife”.  And so for the first half of our marriage, I felt I had no identify of my own other than wife or mom.  I don’t want to downplay the importance of either of those roles, but for me, I knds I needed more.

Fast forward to 20+ years later and here I am.  Confident in who I am, doing my own thing, finding myself on a daily basis.  Still “the director’s wife” and mom of my three boys, but okay with that, because I know that’s not ALL I am.  What changed?  First of all, I made the decision to go back to school and do my own thing.  Secondly, I ended up teaching at a school where we did some really great things in terms of drama and choral music and what I was doing was beginning to get recognized.  Because we were still in the same district, I remained “the director’s wife” but as luck would have it, my identify changed for a short time because when Doug went back to grad school, I was no longer the band director’s wife.  Now we were in a different environment with a different dynamic.  I was the breadwinner, teaching K-12 music and he was the student, getting home earlier than me, getting dinner ready, taking care of the boys.

They say it’s not what you know but who you know, and I’m fortunate to know a lot of great people who have encouraged me to follow my strengths and passions to do things I would never have dreamed of.  Doug now laughingly refers to himself as “Mr. Judy Bush” and I have to admit I kinda like that.  But the truth is, we’re now two independent, (mostly) competent individuals, pursuing our dreams and passions as a team.  While being his wife is the best decision I ever made, learning how to be me within this marriage has made it even better.

I share this today for all of the young women out there who want this dream of marriage and career and family and I want to encourage them to not forget themselves in this scenario.  It’s easy for women to sacrifice their own passions in order to take care of and nurture their families, and in many cases, it’s expected because they ARE the woman.  These don’t have to be career passions, but passion for anything that makes you who you are – things that make you happy.  There have been times when I felt guilty for pursuing my dreams and dragging the kids with me.  Then, when my youngest got married, the pastor shared with all of us that one of the things our youngest learned from me was to pursue those dreams, to work hard, to make things happen.  He did, and he married a woman just like that.  So maybe, by being ourselves, remaining strong, working to make things better for everyone in their family, including ourselves, is a way to teach men to admire strong women and want to have them in their lives.

So today, I’m proud of the work we’ve put into our relationship and I remain proud to be the band director’s wife, even taking pictures when asked.  And I’m learning how to be proud of myself and my own accomplishments, taking time for myself and continuing the work to be the person I am meant to be.

 

Last night we had the best time babysitting our foster grandkids, one who is four and the  other who is 9. It had been a long time since I had babysat and, well, I had forgotten a few things.  Like how to help a 4 year old brush his teeth.  To my defense, it’s been a while but he had no problem saying to me, “Grandma Judy, not like THAT!”.  So obviously I was doing something wrong.  However, we did have a great time having dinner, playing with cars, reading books and watching bad cartoons.  I REALLY need to introduce them to Looney Toons sometime.  And as it is approaching that time of year, the subject of Christmas came up.  We knew that the oldest didn’t believe anymore, but  the youngest does.  So as we talked about Santa, the oldest looks at me and says, “no, I don’t believe in Santa.  Santa sucks.  It’s all just parents giving the kids presents”.

It was the combination of anger and sadness that struck me. Not loud, just this quiet disappointment for what must have been some unpleasant past holiday experiences for him.  So, trying to change the direction I said, “well, then we can all have fun being Santa for the little one”.  Have you ever wanted to just take words and just stuff them back in your own mouth?  The look on his face, still quiet said it all.  No, Santa is stupid.

I wish I could say I completely understand, but I can’t.  I’ve had some pretty crappy Christmases, like the year my parents talked about getting divorced and told us to choose who we wanted to live with.  Then they changed their minds.  THAT was fun.  But, for the most part, I think they tried to get us things we wanted, trying to make us happy.  Trying to create some kinds of traditions as a family.  But with these two little guys, even Halloween was a new experience.  I can’t imagine how Christmas will be.  The new grandma in me wants to just give them everything they’ve never had, but giving “things” isn’t always the solution.  As we tucked the boys in last night and hugged them good night, I realized the best gift I can give them is my love and working to build up their trust in adults.

Of course this experience has caused me to think of my kids at school.  Yesterday was the last day for one of our custodians at school who was promoted and is transferring.  I watched as kids brought him little gifts and said goodbyes.  But there was one little girl who walked in quietly, just looked at him and gave him a hug.  Tears started to fill her eyes as she said nothing.  As the adult, he tried saying things to make her feel better, but she just looked up at him again and gave him another hug.  A relationship with an adult so powerful that she couldn’t even speak.  I thought I was going to cry with her.  This adult, whose job it is to take care of the building, clean the ridiculous amount of mess that 400 elementary kids can make and make life generally better for all of us, had taken the time to build relationships with children and it MATTERED.  When a young child walks up to an adult and tells them they will miss them, this is powerful.  The adult has built up a trusting relationship with this child.  And in case you think this guy is a pushover, no such thing.  He showed a parent’s love for these kids, taking care of them but also teaching responsibility to take care of themselves.  No gifts, just his time and wisdom.

You see, that’s what children really want.  Yes, they want the gifts at Christmas, but they want the adult to play with them, to read to them, to listen when they tell a story from school, good or bad.  Someone who will love them unconditionally.  So many times I have that one child who wants to tell me something before class and they have difficulty finding words, so it takes twice as long and the other 20+ kids in the room are losing their minds.  It’s hard to make myself stop for a minute longer,to really hear this kid out and respond somehow.  Maybe they’ll be more engaged in my class if they feel I’m really listening to them.  Ya think?  I need to work on showing more care for them as a human being and not just my student.

A dance teacher, who happens to be the wife of a long time friend,  posted on Facebook this morning how she was proud of all of her students, not just the ones who succeeded in the arts, but those who succeeded in other careers, and with their families.  She has made a difference in the lives of these students because she had high expectations for them, made time for them, challenged them, spoke truth to them.  Not buying them things or showering with with false praise.  That’s all these kids want from adults.  We don’t need to make life easier for them, we just need to be there for them, speak truth in love and build trusting relationships.

I’m so sorry that my foster grandson feels like there was nobody there for him in terms of Christmas  and I’m sorry that that has left him with the idea that Santa sucks.  Or, in other words,  you can’t trust adults.  All of us as adults have the responsibility to help children who come across our path in life, no matter what we’ve chosen to do with our lives.  Not to be Santa necessarily, but to give of ourselves to make the world a better place for children.  After all, isn’t that what Christmas is really all about anyway?

 

You know how they say childbirth is like stretching your bottom lip over your head?  Having had a child without anesthesia, I can pretty well vouch for that analogy, but it’s usually used to try to help men understand what it’s like for women to have children because they will never experience that pain.  I read an article the other day about how people outside of teaching think teachers are always whining about how hard teaching is, saying things like, “you knew what you were getting into”.  Well, for those of us who have been teaching for awhile, teaching has definitely changed, and not for the better.  Besides, that’s like telling the mother who’s in labor “well, you knew what you were getting into!”. That would be the last thing you would ever say, I’m afraid. As teachers, we’re still here because we love to teach and we love kids, but it’s those added things in teaching that now bring more stress to our lives and take away from actually teaching children.

So, I was trying to come up with an analogy for what teaching feels like today that just about everyone would be able to understand and I think I’ve got it.  I would love to tell you that this analogy only pertains to the time around the holidays, but I think it speaks to the entire year now.  Let me talk to those of you who worked at some point in the food service industry, whether fast food or otherwise and I think you’ll understand more of where teachers are coming from.

I worked at McDonald’s starting in high school and into college.  This was in the dark ages when I had to memorize the menu and the prices, ring them in correctly (no computer here), figure out the taxes and add them up to put into the cash register.  I was actually trained there for the very first drive thru window in my hometown.  It was a big deal using that white board and grease pencil, let me tell you.  Anyway, I digress.  The part I think we can relate to here is the “rush”.  That time of day when everyone decides to show up for lunch or dinner, or a bus or two shows up and it’s insanity for an hour or so.  I remember dropping fries for an entire rush and I think I smelled like fries for the rest of the week.

Think about what it takes to handle a rush.  The teamwork so that everyone has a job that fits together like a well oiled machine as well as having ENOUGH people to handle the jobs. The leader who tries to anticipate what’s going to be needed and gives instructions as to how much food to cook and when to cook it.  The people taking orders as quickly as possible with a smile on their faces, even when customers are impatient and disrespectful.  Others cleaning up after customers who don’t always help take care of the building in anticipation of new customers who will need a place to sit.  It’s exhausting and by the time it’s finished, you feel like you have to sit and regroup.

So, for those of you who have experienced this scenario, imagine now a rush beginning the minute you walk in the door at 8:00 that lasts until you finish with your last customer at 3:30.  Five days a week, 185+ days a year.  And yes, there is time to “regroup”, but there is also preparation for the rush tomorrow to take care of, all the supplies ready to go, clean up from those who didn’t put things away today.  Knowing how exhausted you are after a rush of an hour or so, can you imagine doing it day after day?

Isn’t this what we signed up for though?  We knew it would be hard, right?  But, being public employees, relying on the kindness of the government and taxpayers, there are many duties and responsibilities placed upon us that were not taught to us in college or during student teaching that have been accumulating for years.  Nothing is ever taken away from the pile, the pile just keeps getting higher.  So, imagine having to deal with the day long rush and now you have to fill out surveys for the company, take training in things like trauma or CPR in case one of your customers has an issue, documenting everything you did for all of your customers that day and how your work has improved.  On a daily basis you have to display your target goals so that customers can see them and you must achieve and document those goals for your manager.  Sure, you have a little time during the day, but to get it all done, you have to take it home or stay at work longer.  And all you want to do it get away from the smell of the french fries you’ve been around all day.

Am I exaggerating?  I think most teachers would agree with me.  At least the ones still doing everything that is expected of them.  There are those I’m sure who have given up and are just waiting for retirement or looking for another job.  We’re looking at a teacher shortage across the country and it’s not because teaching isn’t what we expected, it’s all the OTHER stuff that’s not teaching that wasn’t expected that is chasing them away.  Enough already! We need teachers who are healthy and rested and excited to work with the most important customers we’ll ever have – our children.  Let’s stop turning our educational system into a fast food world and go back to a place of quality, taking the necessary time for a fine dining experience, time for thoughtful discussion, time to get to know our customers better and help them see the benefits of this type of experience. After all, these are the customers who will one day be taking care of the rest of us.

 

Among my parking lot notes today at school was the following; “Do you want a banana club shirt?”.  The girl had drawn a little box on the bottom of the note with an arrow pointing to it and the words “shirt size” next to it.  This is the same group of girls who formed the “Unicorn Club” earlier this year. They had club meetings, t-shirts they made themselves (I was told I could have one made for $5) and they even created their own theme song and dance routine.  It was quite the thing.  They demonstrated their creation during class.  So now, for whatever reason, it’s now the Banana Club.  Although I was asked by a girl in another class today how I felt about unicorns, so it must still be a thing.

I get asked a lot of interesting questions by my students, with the most asked question being how old I am, to which I answer “158”.  Some believe, some don’t.  Not my problem.  I am also asked about my favorite color, animal, pet, cupcake, and special holiday questions like, what are you doing for Christmas and who’s your fav reindeer?  To which I would answer Blitzen, of course.  Anyway, no question is off limits as evidenced by the young lady who asked when I was having my baby and another who asked if I was a grandma yet.  I think these two should get together and discuss.  The best question I received this week however was, “if you were going to invent a color, what would it be?  It can’t be a color that exists”.  I’m still pondering that one, much more than the question “do you like bananas?”, signed “class clown”.

I wish I had an easy button for the questions I get asked multiple times.  Can I get a drink?  May I go to the bathroom?  They have to “may”.  If they ask “can I” I respond with “I hope so” and send them back to their seat until they figure it out or until they begin to do the bathroom dance, whichever comes first.  (Thanks Dad). Can you open_________? (fill in the blank at lunch time).  Can you tell him/her to leave me alone? Can you tie my shoes?

Then there are the questions about what I know.  “How do you know that?”  How do you sing/play piano so good?”  I don’t do either “good” – these are Kindergartners.  They’re easily fooled.  “Where did you learn all that stuff about the dead guy?”.  It’s called reading and researching and YOU can do it too!  Then I refer them to the media center.

I have fun, or at least pretend to, with all of their questions.  But the payoff is when they ask you something serious because they trust you to answer or help them take care of it.  We’re back to that trusting an adult thing.  And when they can trust you to help them and answer their questions, they know they can trust you to just talk.  Today I had a little one who came in angry and refused to do anything for the entire class.  A lot of times if I don’t “let” them participate they’ll watch the other kids and change their minds about participating.  Not this one – she was hacked off.  Not loud, just quietly smoldering.  When class was over and the others had gone, I sat down with her and told her I noticed she was angry but that we needed to learn to do our jobs even when we’re angry sometimes.  She still wouldn’t look at me, so then I did the teacher thing. “If it happens again it will be not following my directions and I’ll have to send you to another teachers classroom.  I don’t want to do that but you would give me no choice.  I would rather have you in class with me”.

She looked at me and said, I think I want to talk now and proceeded to tell me what had happened right before she came to me.  Not only was she mad but also confused and hurt, her lip quivering while she shared her story.  It was an opportunity for me to help her deal with the problem in a healthier way.  But kids only share the really important things if they trust you, so taking the time to answer the silly questions sometimes pays off.

So I’m pretty sure I will politely decline the invitation to the banana club and the t-shirt.  At the rate they’re going they’ll have many clubs this year and as a poor teacher, I can’t afford both unicorn AND banana t-shirts.  Besides, there will be girl scout cookies later this year and some sweet little thing will bounce in my room with that highly anticipated question, “will you buy some girl scout cookies from me?”  Now, those are the kind of questions I love (and budget for!).

 

An obscure line from an X-files episode got me to thinking.  If one were to write a melody of my life, what would it sound like?   I’m pretty sure after all of these years,  it would be more of a symphony full of many different melodies rather than just a single melody.  And if I were to outline what that symphony might represent, what highlights and low points of my life would I choose?  Would it have a triumphant ending or a quiet fade out?

Just like a symphony, a life well lived is full of contrasts.   Crescendos and decrescendos, tempo changes, changes in timbre.  Does your life have a recurring theme or maybe a theme and variations?  Would people be able to recognize the theme as the real you?

Think about your childhood.  My childhood theme would be sparse. Few bright instruments, maybe a flute, harp, things that trigger pictures of make-believe and living through books and fairy tales. A few bright happy major passages with contrasting minor passages interrupting the happy theme.  I have few actual memories of my childhood but I have pictures of a pretty little girl, always in dresses with her hair just so.  A little princess theme with an underlying theme of fear and sadness.

The second movement would represent your adolescence/teen years.  How do you represent raging hormones through music?  What does uncertainty sound like?  I had a great foundation of band that took me through all of those years and made quite the impression on my life.  A solid foundation of a bass line with the fear theme making an appearance in the midst of the raging hormones music.  There would have to be a love theme (or perhaps a “crush” theme?) for all of the great guys I dated during those years.  It could be a solo played on the same instrument each guy actually played.  Pretty sure I hit every section except tuba and flute.  It could be an interesting second movement full of a variety of memories.

Movement three now brings in the love theme for the love of my life.  There will be times when the theme will be sad, sometimes happy, sometimes angry.  We would also have to add a theme for each one of my boys, perhaps layering the themes as our lives intertwine.  These years would be represented by a crazy fast tempo, more of the band theme contrasting with sad, overwhelming depression.  Highs and lows, fast and slows, happy and sad.  A roller coaster of emotions.

I’m in the midst of Movement four now and the boy themes have now added a couple of  of  feminine themes and they are not as intertwined with us anymore.  The love theme is strong, and our individual themes are just as strong and more independent than ever.  And while you would think the tempo would be slowing down, the music has become faster and more exciting.  Unexpected twists and turns happen in the music, making me  curious as to where it’s going to go next.  The roller coaster emotions have evened out and while some passages are unexpected, there is an overall feeling of calm in the music.  There is opportunity to relax and share the contentment with others now.

The evolution of the movements gives hope that through the turbulent passages there can be peace at the end.  The message is that if we keep working on our own music, it will eventually come to its intended cadence.  The great Composer has been using all of the earlier themes of my life to develop this symphony.  Being in the midst of the fourth movement means that I can make changes as the music develops rather than just allowing the music to happen to me.  The beauty of creating your own symphony of life is that everyone’s symphony is different, each representing the good, bad, ugly, joyous parts of your life. As the composer, you can always change the direction of the movement or the emotion of the movement.  The other movements have been played – they’re finished and you can’t go back.  You can only go forward in the music.  What direction is your music headed?  How will the music resolve?  I know that I’m excited to see the direction my melody is headed!

 

Mariah.  What a pretty name for something that can be so ridiculous.  Mariah would be more like a breeze than wind.  I never paid much attention to the wind and winter weather when I lived in Ohio.  Sure, it snowed once in a while, usually a lovely, gently falling snow that brought a hush to the neighborhood.  A snow that once finished could be plowed quickly and off we went to our daily routine.  Wind was not such a big deal.  And then we moved to Nebraska.

I’m pretty sure my first question was, does the wind always blow here?  We first visited in April.  The temp was pretty comfortable – at least it would have been in Ohio.  But with the added wind from the north, the wind chill turned what should have been a lovely Spring afternoon into a frigid winter day.  I remember not bringing nearly enough warm clothes and thinking, seriously – we’re thinking of moving HERE?

After the move and into my first job, which included recess duty, I had one day where it just didn’t feel right.  It was because the wind wasn’t blowing!  It was wonderful.  However, the friend I was doing duty with just fussed about the fact that the wind wasn’t blowing and that it was SO humid.  Go live in the Ohio River Valley and we’ll talk humid.  Of course we moved during the summer, so in our first week there were tornado warnings.  We spent the night looking at a map trying to figure out where all the counties were that were being hit.  Oh, and the back screen door was blown inside out.  I had never seen that before. Certainly an interesting introduction to wind in Nebraska.

Oh, and can we talk about ground blizzards?  I didn’t even know they existed until I moved here. A blizzard in itself is incredible.  When they say you’re going to be stuck inside for awhile, they’re not kidding.  Again, it’s not the snow so much, it’s the wind.  And it doesn’t have to be actually snowing to have a ground blizzard. It’s the wind blowing around all the snow that’s already fallen.  I tried driving from Bennet to Palmyra in a ground blizzard one day.  Almost ran into the back of a semi because I didn’t see it until I came right up behind it.  I try to avoid those now.

So now, after 17 years in Nebraska, I consider myself to be a pseudo weather aficionado.  I not only look at the daily temp, but the wind direction and speed.  I consider where I’m going to be and how far I’ll be walking before I choose outerwear.  Windchill is the real deal here and it’s the one thing that makes winter unbearable.  I can deal with cold and snow, and I’ve even learned to deal with ice pretty well, but it’s that bone chilling, take your breath away, hurt your chest to breathe wind when you step out of the door that’s killer.  It may not be cold enough to get a true Nebraskan to dress in anything heavier than a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt, but I tend to layer in everything I’ve got.

And then, there’s the hair issue. I can spent all kinds of time on the hair, spray it down with lacquer and the second I walk out the door, it flips upside down, covers my face and I can’t see where I’m going until I get back inside.  I would put on a hat but it would end up somewhere in Kansas, and forget using an umbrella.  It’s like the wind laughs at you when you open it up, immediately flipping it inside out.  How is a good southern girl supposed to keep dry in the rain around here?

You know, I’ve heard it’s so windy in Nebraska because Colorado blows and Iowa sucks.  Not very appropriate but it describes the wind here very well.  Just like we’re flyover country, we’re also blow-over country.  There’s no doubt when a  front is coming through because it hits you like a ton of bricks.  I’ve actually been outside when a front hits and one second the wind it blowing slightly from one direction and the next minute it roaring from another and the temp has dropped several degrees.

Right now I’m wearing flannels and a sweatshirt with a throw across my lap and listening to the wind move the windows and bang things around the patio.  I dashed out onto the patio to move my bird feeder so it wouldn’t blow away when I got home and almost froze to death.  As I looked across the way, I noticed a neighbor calmly sitting on a chair on her balcony, wearing a sweatshirt and smoking a cigarette.  A true Nebraskan for sure. And while I’ve been here for quite a while now, that’s the real difference between us.  If the wind ever stops blowing, I know who will be left standing and it won’t be one of those true Nebraskans.  It will be me : )

 

I love Lucky Charms cereal.  I admit it.  Just like I love strawberry pop-tarts.  Both are probably really bad for me, but once in a while, it’s important to go back and feel like a kid again. I recently bought myself a keychain which is a little yellow beetle.  It goes with my car.  Not very adult but it spoke to me. It was whimsical.  And everyone needs some childish whimsy in their lives.  It helps me take myself a little less seriously.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could approach all of life that way?  I watched one of those baby videos yesterday where kids were giggling in the rain, sliding down hills and feeling leaves brush across their hair.  So much laughter.  Now as adults we avoid these kinds of things.  The rain would mess up my hair, chances are I would look really silly sliding down that hill and I tend to duck under trees rather than brush my hair through them.  But am I missing out on all of the little wonders of the world when I do that?  I mean, as adults, we’re supposed to put away childish things, right?

I certainly wouldn’t want to go back and BE a child again.  So much I didn’t know, so much uncertainty.  But boy did I enjoy playing with cars in the dirt, or making snow forts, rolling down hills in the summer or imagining pictures in the clouds.  Things I wouldn’t mind doing now, but when you’re an adult and you do these things, people look at you a little funny. However, there is nothing like witnessing someone expressing joy doing something fun.  I admit that I love to just sit in the surf at the beach and let the water splash over and around me and laugh like a kid.  I love watching my husband laugh while he watches cartoons.  How wonderful for us to loosen up a little and live and laugh like a child for a little while.

I’m starting to figure out that this is why being a grandparent could be a fun thing.  You not only get to watch kids experience things for the first time, but you get to do things WITH them and get away with it.  Nobody looks at you funny if you play with cars with your grandchild, but if you did it by yourself, someone might be concerned about your state of mind.  I’m thinking I could get them things I never got as a child, like the Operation Game.  I could get it for them and play it myself.  Always wanted to try to get the funny bone….

This time of year is, of course, the perfect time to be like a child and experience the wonder of the season through a child’s eyes.  All of the lights, the songs, the family get-togethers, the gifts.  All to celebrate the birth of the most important child of all.  The hard part is not being too much of an adult.  Not getting stressed out by all of the gift buying, the cookie baking, the endless parties and concerts.  That all sounds good, but as adults, after a long day at work, baking and icing Christmas cookies may be the last thing you want to do.  Instead we could look at it as a great way to make a mess, flour everywhere, making different colored frostings, creating designs.  Not worried about them being perfect, but enjoying the act of making cookies.

As a music teacher who has been singing holiday music with choir since August, I tend to be really tired of it once the season actually arrives.  And we won’t even go into the time it takes to prepare an entire school to do a holiday sing.  I usually have to make myself go to other holiday events because it’s just more of what I’ve been doing for months.  It’s hard when preparing celebrations/events are part of your job.  It’s important that I remind myself to look through the eyes of my students who maybe get to share this music with their families one time.  For them it is an important part of their holiday celebration, a chance to gather childhood memories, even though for me it might be just another concert.

I find myself being really tired this time of year, wishing I had the same energy the students have.  But maybe they have a lot of energy because they remain excited about all of the wonderful things to come.  All of those simple, childish pleasures that we’ve maybe become cynical about.  Perhaps I wouldn’t be so tired if I were to get excited about those things as well and remember that it’s all about allowing myself to become like a child again.

 

This morning I woke up next to my best friend.  My best friend for the past almost 40 years.  The guy who calls me princess, the one who tells me he’s proud of the work I do, the one who makes me feel safe and loved.  The only person I can be my true self with and he STILL loves me. Is he perfect?  Shoot no.  Have we had issues?  You bet.  We’re human after all. But I’m a lucky woman to have found a man of integrity to spend my life with.  There is so much negativity in the world right now, focused on men who have made the choice to not treat women with dignity and respect and it’s easy to get swallowed up in that negativity.  As I’ve shared before, yes, ME TOO when it comes to having a negative experience with some men.  I think most women have to some degree.  So it would be easy to not trust any men, especially if all you see are examples of the worst kind of men on the news and on social media.

I also have the opportunity to work with a lot of men and I have to say, most are professional men who work with passion and integrity and are kind gentlemen as well.  Sure, there are a couple who disappoint you with their behavior, but like Donny Osmond said, “don’t let one bad apple spoil the whole bunch, girl!” Okay, cheesy, but you get my drift.

The problem here is, the nice guys, the ones who are working hard, loving their partners, spouses and families, living with integrity, never get the limelight.  We don’t focus on them because it’s more interesting to hear about the tawdry lives of those in power.  I think what got this started for me today, other than waking up with MY man of integrity, was reading the story about our basketball coach giving tickets to our recently dethroned football coach to a game, and the football coach showed up to support the university that just fired him.  The giving of the ticket was a gesture of respect for a fellow coach who showed the quiet dignity we should all strive to have in tough situations.  However, what did I see in the conversation thread?  “What, he can’t afford his own ticket”?  “One loser coach giving to another coach?  Did he even have to pay for it?”.  They completely missed the point that it was a kind gesture from one man to another, recognizing his integrity.

But we’re not about character anymore, it’s all about statistics and ratings.  A man is judged by his results more than the way he achieves those results.  IF he is a man of integrity and achieves results, that’s just a bonus.  As a society, we’re giving men so many mixed messages.  Work hard, be aggressive, do what you have to do to succeed, be in control.  After all, you’re not a man if you’re not in control of everything, right?  And in some cases, that means in control of women as well, at home and at work. They’re not allowed to be vulnerable, to show uncertainty, to listen and care because that’s not masculine.  It takes a strong man to regularly tell his sons that he loves them, to put others before himself, to support the dreams and aspirations of his spouse because that means he’s sure of who he is.

I would love to start a movement to recognize these great men.  A lot like the “I Love Public Schools” movement, something that documents and recognizes those men who just do what they do because they were taught to be and behave as men of integrity.  We need to begin recognizing men for all of the things they’re doing right and use them as the example of what we want our boys to become.  These men treat all people with respect, not looking for recognition, but striving to do the right thing everyday.  They’re out there.  I know.  Because I married one.  If you happen to read this post and know a man of integrity, why don’t you post a little bit about him to let us all recognize them.  Maybe while we’re making some men accountable for their inappropriate actions, we can also begin to thank those who make you grateful to wake up next to them in the morning or work with them everyday.

 

 

You know, I should be careful about what I wish for.  Yesterday was such a hum drum day that I fussed that I had nothing to write about.  Well, apparently the universe was listening!  I should have known, of course.  A full moon, a change in the weather coming, three weeks before Christmas break ( I hate calling it winter break – sorry) and the fact that my choir kids were literally climbing the walls by 7:45 this morning.  I’m not helping things much when I insist on working on our holiday sing-a-long at this time as well.

But the best was yet to come around 2:00 this afternoon.  Twenty three wonderful 6 year olds came bouncing into my room.  Well, they came in pretty quietly actually, but as soon as they saw we were going to sing holiday songs, then they began bouncing.  So imagine the excitement that ensued as individual kids began asking to go to the restroom and telling me when their birthdays were in December and I’m relocating children who are having trouble controlling their bodies and then the phone rings.   Somewhere around “Santa Claus is Coming to Town”, I talked to the school secretary who told me that one of the kids needed to come to the office.  I hung up, only to find out that she had called the wrong class.  Kids are still coming up to talk to me about how they know this song and and can they please go to the bathroom, as I call the computer teacher, apologize for interrupting and ask him to send the child to the office.  As I’m talking to him,  another child comes up to me in tears and says something, but she’s not bleeding, so I ask her to hang on while I finish the call.  Then I ask her what’s wrong and she says, in a total panic “I swallowed a marble!!”

So, the mom in me kicks in.  She’s crying, she’s talking, she’s breathing, so she’s not choking.  This is good.  But a marble?  Where did she get a marble and why was it in her mouth? So I send her off to the nurse with another 6 year old, while I get on the phone again, trying to keep the music going so that the kids don’t go crazy as I tell the nurse that I’m sending a kid to her who apparently swallowed a marble.  Well, turns out it wasn’t a marble, but if I got the message right, it was a chip for playing bingo, and while it apparently caught for a second on the way down, she did manage to swallow it.  After a call to the doctor and her mom, the nurse sent her back to my room.

The child was sighing a huge sigh of relief because she was imagining having surgery to get the “marble” out of her stomach, but apparently the nurse informed her that it would eventually just “come out”.  (Her words, not mine and she motioned to her backside).   Five minutes after returning to class, she asks to use the restroom.  I don’t have the heart or the energy to explain to her that that might be a LITTLE too quick for the offending item to find it’s way through her digestive system, so I let her go.  As soon as she leaves, the topic of conversation among the six year olds now is how she’s going to poop this item out.  We talk so that they don’t say something in front of her and embarrass her when she comes back, which was apparently not needed because she had no problem sharing that she had NOT pooped it out and now she has become some kind of hero to her classmates.

One more phone call from the office to get yet another child from my room, and I gratefully sent them back with their teacher.  Thinking that I was now going to finish my day with 9-10 year olds for the rest of the afternoon, we began to work on our Heritage Schools songs.  As we began “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad”, the animation showed a young boy using a mallet to hit spikes into the railroad ties.  During a quiet section of the music, a voice behind me says “that’s child labor!”.  As I walked to my desk to write that down, laughing out loud, I thought of something a friend said to me today about writing.  She said to pray about it and He will tell me what to write.  It’s nice to know that God has a sense of humor.