When your daughter is your soulmate.....

When your daughter is your best friend.... you have a lot of laughter in your house. You are more like soulmates, than mother/daughter. You finish each others sentences. You randomly break out into song at the same time to the same 80's music.

Christmas time. Right after she moved back home.

My youngest is turning 13 this month. Wow, what a struggle. I try to remember how much I love her and how much anguish I was in from about 11 until about my mid-thirties, when I stopped being a teen. Okay, it was not all the same anguish. Maybe about age 17? When I stopped lashing out quite as heavily at my parents. But we are in the throes of this and it may be a llllooooooonnnnnggggggg few years. I savor the moments that we cross the chasm and connect. And I drink in the compliments from family friends who tell me how sweet she is. How thoughtful. How mature. And I wait for the day that I reap the benefits of parenting her.

I remember vaguely when my soulmate/bff/sunshiny daughter was in this stage of life. It waxed and waned. But really, the struggle lasted on some level until this last year, after she had struck out on her own, getting out from my terrible tyranny. Then life hit her. A 19 year old uneducated girl with no money and no insurance and no skills. Add in some debilitating emotional issues. And she persevered. Pushed through. Learned about adulting without me holding her hand. (What?! How is that possible?)  She began to value herself. To see the validity in her mother's pushing.... push through the depression, get a job, clean your living environment (aka your room). She began to accept that our brains are synced. It is probably not a healthy thing, but it is oh-so-true.

Yes, we really did get matching tattoos.

Today, my daughter is nearing her 21st birthday. I am so grateful that she is in my life. I am so glad that I haven't lost her to the dark side. That she is okay with our crazy life and home. Here's to my hippie-chickie daughter and her bizarre sense of humor and love of 80's rock and all things tie-dye. I would call her my mini-me, but she's about 2 inches taller than I am!

The photographer captured us when we were getting family photos!

BTL blogging challenge 2017 is underway!! To read more blogs, head over to Michelle's Big Time Literacy blog! #btbc17

Everything is Connected....or jumbled together.... or entangled in a mesh of overactive brain activity

Is everything in my life connected?! It would seem so. I recently joined up with friends to be more accountable and intentional about my health. I'm only 10 days in, but I feel better already. I still don't wake up energized and ready to go. Unlike my little companion... she hears that alarm and she is ready to take on the day!

See the wagging tail? Up and at 'em!

Have you noticed that one thing leads to another? The force is strong this morning for sure. The ADHD force. My mind. a little bird. flitting around and getting off on all sorts of bunny trails. I see that I posted the same thing twice. Different words. But did you break out in song when you ready the first sentence of paragraph two? I did. Click here if you did. Or you want to. Or if you are young and don't even have a clue why I would break out in song.

Okay. Connections. Life. Mine. Yours. Etc.
I already stated that I trying to become intentional about my health. I knew I couldn't do it alone. So I banded together with a small tribe of women and we are forging out our new trail. Turns out, according to what I am reading for my Master of Education Classes, that it really is a new trail. In my brain. I am resisting the impulse to eat my diet of high fat, high carb, ultra-convenient, ultra-processed (and reprocessed and over-processed) food. And that by being part of a group of like minded people who I am making myself accountable to, I am making those connections in my brain more concrete. Oh yeah. The lightbulb went off for me! For sure! See how what I am learning in one area connects with the other?

Okay.... for all the ranting, my brain emptied out pretty fast! Oh, I know. I was going to wax poetic about my healthy lifestyle changes. Well, the force to reckoned with (my disjointed brain), says it is time to go and do.... walk, plant, dig, wash, clean, more, more, more. do. do. do. Apparently I wrote enough to calm the connectedness rhetoric that was running rampant in my mind. Everything really is connected. More than we know apparently.

Beyond Grateful

So there's this crazy-magical-terrifying-mystical journey we are on called life. And I have spent my fair share (or more) complaining about the things that don't quite live up to what I expect. But I've been taught that I need to not expect. If I do this, I won't complain as much. This is not to be confused with lowering my standards. At some point, my standards were as low as they could possibly go. But eliminating my expectations means that I am not overwhelmed with guilt when I shoot for the moon and only make it to the stars. I'm free to dream and to reach. Because the fear of failure can be truly paralyzing. And there's no one harder on me than I am. There's also that little thing about putting expectations on those "things" that I have no control over, like other people. When I put people into a certain category and dredge up certain expectations, well, I am certain to be disappointed-- crushed. Because I have no control on someone else's thoughts, dreams, actions. The more I can grasp this, the more gratitude I have. Today I am beyond grateful for the life I live. I am so truly blessed and loved. My life is full of good people, great kids, wonderful kin and a teaching career that is satisfying and fulfilling. My life is full. grateful. sometimes it is too-small of a word. I am overwhelmed with all there is to be grateful for. beyond what I can measure.....

Rant warning! The teacher I never want to be

Here I am today on a rant, rampage, a soapbox. Today I had an experience that I hope I never forget. I experienced (not the first time, but I could really do without this experience again) being on the receiving end of being talked down to by a teacher. My child's teacher. If this teacher was actually trying to recruit me to drive her point home, well, she failed. My first thought was, "if you talked to my child in this tone/manner, no wonder she didn't respond well!" I didn't say that out loud. But I was appalled and outraged that my child was belittled. Called out publicly in class and embarrassed and then the tactic of trying to intimidate and talk down to me to get me to comply. *sigh* Today was certainly educational. I have had some situations recently when I've had to bring behaviors to parents attention via phone. I hope and pray that in my own frustration and nervousness I haven't given parents the impression that I think I am better than them or that I don't care about their student. Holy smokes, I never want that to happen. Today reminded me that there's a parent side to every story too and that this child that is causing disruption today in my class, is someone's precious child who they worry about, long for, and love. A child that they entrust me with every day and give me the charge of encouraging them and cajole them into being the best, most successful version of themselves that they possibly can be.

Parents of my students, if I have taken "a tone" with you, or treated your child like less than the precious gift from heaven that they are, I am very sorry. I wake up daily remembering that I am blessed and very fortunate to teach your children. I love them and I know that you are working very hard to be the best parent, caregiver, provider possible. I know that it is no easy charge. I appreciate you so much. Thank you for sharing your child with me and trusting me to teach them.

Profiling..... we all do it. I do it. And I abhor people who judge based on what car you drive or judge your intelligence based on what clothes you wear.

In fall, we wrecked our van. Well, a very large deer ran out in front of us and did some Olympic quality gymnastics over the top of our vehicle. So.... we began driving our old vehicle, a 1998 Saturn. But it is on it's last leg. So... we are driving the van again. It now has a beat down hood that ties shut.

We stayed late to view my daughter's art at the 6th grade art show the other night. Upon leaving, my daughter realized that she would not make the commute home, she needed to visit a restroom. So we stopped a reputable grocery store. And I waited in the car. As I waited, the security guard makes sure to pass back and forth in front of my vehicle and he actually stopped and waited until I looked up and he could make eye contact with me. Just making sure I knew he was watching me.

I was furious. If I was driving an SUV without any wrinkles.... But I wasn't. As my fury subsided, I realized that I do this all the time. Cars with a different color panel (fender, hood, door), cars that have been wrecked that haven't had body work done, cars that smoke..... I chunk those poor souls in the drug user category immediately.

Every day I learn something about myself. Sometimes it's not so pleasant or comfortable.

Sometimes "aha" moments are not that exciting or liberating

I'm very passionate about education. And giving kids second and third and so many more chances. I was part of a community meeting this week to discuss this very thing. And it was a great discussion. Most of the people involved in the justice system want the same thing, to see these kids make positive changes and to have a chance at life as an adult.

Then I came home. And I pulled into my driveway. Facing the litter strewn mess that is my neighbors yard. Knowing that the frequent visitors are not stopping in just to say "hi." The constant stream of a traffic and profanity is discouraging at the least. Aggravating and frustrating for sure.

I don't feel the same about this situation. I have some very uncaring desires for my neighbors. I would like to see them locked up and never be paroled. My desires are purely selfish. If I would teach those kids, I would automatically shift my focus and realize that I cannot expect them to behave in a way that has never been taught to them or introduced to them.

So why do I expect this from their parents? I know a little about the situation. I know that no middle-class values were ever taught here and that the kids who are parents now were probably targeted by teachers and law enforcement as "bad kids" and have probably never ever had a caring adult pulling for them to get clean or live a socially forward life.

But as the nieghbor of a drug dealer and hoarder's house, I don't feel compassionate. I want this blight to disappear.

Today I am aware of my hypocrisy but I do not know the answer or how to solve it.

Coffee is a spiritual experience

I love coffee. I love all the "poems" about coffee. Because without coffee I am not a nice person. I am cranky and tired and put out. Not to mention the headaches. So this morning as I sat here sans coffee, my brain would not engage, no topic was forthcoming, no rants or passions or must-share-right-now thoughts bubbled up. Because before coffee.... nothing much matters. I mean, if my child were in distress, I would still take her to the ER. But I might not notice stop signs and other cars. It might be a wild ride.

This image sums up all the good in life. Sunshine and light.... a new day dawning... and coffee. The sweet elixir of life.

This is (of course) my favorite image. It is mine. My coffee this morning. In my favorite mug at the table in my very own home. I could write an entire blog post to my mug. It is not too big, too small, too clunky, too thin. It is just right. It is large enough to actually use, but holds the heat enough that I enjoy drinking from it. My favorite mug was a tattered and torn disaster until my lifelong best friend found 4 of them on ebay and got them for me. So this Easter Sunday morning while my family contemplates the resurrection of Christ, I sit and sip and contemplate the meaning of life and the love of good friends. Stopping to smell the coffee can be so much more than just coffee. It is my meditation. My time. My refreshing. And in spite of a my fear that I might sound irreverent, I must say, a spiritual moment. My time with my coffee is sacred. Blessed. Beloved. And it is no small thing. I know why I love coffee and images it stirs up. It is peace and calm and energy. All rolled into one. Good morning world. You are so much more appealing after I have had coffee.

This is the slice of my life today.