Wednesday, February 8, 2017

Ode to Sam on Your 12th Birthday

Dear Sam,

How did it happen?

You woke up and are now officially year away from being a teenager!

There really are no words to express what an incredible young man you are...noble, kind, generous, beyond bright and so much more comfortable in your skin than I was at your age.

I stand 5 feet, 8 inches tall and when you hug me, you come up to my ear.  You're only two shoe sizes away from your father and can eat more bowls of cereal and fruit than I ever imagined possible.

This past year has found you finding your way.

Sixth grade has proven to be quite busy, but someway, somehow, you're doing it all.

You play flag football in the fall and spring.  You've recently taken up participating on the Speech team and are preparing for your inaugural reading of Edgar Allen Poe's "The Raven."  And every chance you get, your fingers are playing the ivories to the tune of Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Harry Potter and everything in between.  You're working your way up the ranks as a boy scout learning how to camp in the frigid temps and are competing as a member of the Saint Margaret Mary Saint Thomas Aquinas club contributing your answers to math and history questions at local competitions.  You still read late into the night and enjoy watching all of the movies that dad is a champion of--many of which I think you're too young for, but dad seems to know better.  And when the homework is done, you join your buddies at the local comic and coffee shop to play coveted games of Magic.

I truly stand in awe of the person that you are becoming.

You are a noble young man.  A person who is less interested in what the crowd cares about than what you know to be true in your heart.  You've always had an extraordinary north star coupled with a dynamic moral compass and an unfailing gift of faith.  You encourage us all to pray for those in need and to give thanks for what we've been given...which in your book is more than enough.

As you continue to grow into a young man, please always remember that this one, very precious life that you have been given by God is to be used for good.  It is to be used in service of others.  It is to share what you have with the person who is in need.

When you feel scared or unsure, which is bound to happen as you embark upon the teenage years, know that you are not alone.  God is always with you and so is your family.  We are here to sit with you in uncertainty, and to celebrate with you in the joy, and to cheer you on as you make choices about what comes next.

And there are so many, many amazing things to look forward to...

Thank you for gifting us with your extraordinary spirit, willingness to go the extra mile and unconditional love, especially for those who are sometimes forgotten.  We could not be more proud of you or grateful for you.

Happy, Happy Birthday, Sweet Son...

All of my love, always,


Sunday, February 5, 2017

This is the Life We've Chosen

I miss you.

Really, I do.

I miss writing for fun or for conducting cerebral acrobatics or for just having a spot to relegate my thoughts when it all gets too bunched up and cluttered on the inside.

I miss the freedom of listening to random nothingness.

I thought that life was busy before.  And I suppose that everyone was right when they said, "It's not so bad when your kids are really little.  Sure, you miss the sleep and the quiet.  But when they get older, well, that's when the bigger worries come."

My kids aren't old.  Sam is turning 12 in two days.  Kate is 9.  And, Claire is 6.  But they're not babies or toddlers or preschoolers.  They can pour their own bowl of cereal and make their own bed.  Kate is becoming quite the master laundry expert of the house and Sam is pretty good about doing anything you want him to, if given a list.  Claire, well, she's a work in progress.

Two days a week, I have thirty-one 7 and 8 year-olds in a classroom.  One night a week, I have graduate students.  And luckily, I have another graduate class to teach on the docket as well.

But between the shuttling of piano, ballet, speech, Boy Scouts, Daisies, school, and soon to be football, soccer and gymnastics...I'm often tired. 

And so, I don't run like I did before.  I don't write like I did before.  I don't often post on Facebook or share my opinions about the fucking debacle that has become our political reality.  I've often wondered if the reason that my life has shifted so much in the last few months is that I'm officially living in the Zombie Apocalypse and no one asked me whether I wanted to be here.  The only thing that seems to make me laugh are really good SNL episodes and sometimes, humoring myself with the ridiculous banter that ensues between people who will intrinsically never change the "other's" mind.

That said, I feel badly....that I don't do more to demonstrate my opposition to the current political climate...that I don't write articles highlighting the very real catastrophic calamities that are on the horizon, if we keep heading down this undeniably, unGodly, fucked up path.

I feel badly that my house is often a wreck and that many times, I squeeze everything that needs to get done in the 11.5th hour.  And that I'm not meditating or talking to my children about the ills of the kind or lack there of leadership that we're witnessing. 

But in the very quiet moments when there is a second to breathe and no expectation of me, except for my thoughts, here is what I know to be true.

This is the life we have chosen.

We are married.  We are parents.  We have jobs with responsibilities.  We have bills.  We have people getting test results back that scream of uncertain futures.  We have science projects that are due and oil that needs to be changed in the car.  Groceries that need to be bought.  People that we need to text and meet for coffee because it's been too long.  We need to say I'm sorry and have sex, even when we're tired.  We need to review English assignments and time speeches and get lunches ready.  We have presentations for clients on a short turnaround.  And, tax appointments.  And pain.  And hope.  And anger.  And love.

And in these ways, we are all simply living the lives that we have chosen.  Trying to do our best with where we are and what we know to be true or palatable today, until tomorrow brings a different chapter in the story.

So, if it's okay, I'll keep writing and sharing my mundane stories.  They're not necessary or even helpful.  They're just a slice of life that maybe you can relate to. 

Because I miss you.

And all of the ugliness that I feel surrounded by particularly in the early morning hours when I check my phone and view a new executive order.

I like sharing my kids with you and hearing about yours.

I like knowing that you are there and that as people, we are not so far apart, all just trying to live the lives we have chosen.