Monday, March 16, 2020

Social Distancing Day One



StarDate: March 16, 2020 

Day One of "Social Distancing" and no school...

I'm not that mom, or maybe I am that mom? I don't really know who "that mom" is, but she needs wine. Whatever I am, I am not a homeschooling mom. I am garbage at teaching small children things. The people who do are saints and deserve medals and crowns and lots of money. But since we are sequestered in our homes with at LEAST two weeks looming ahead of us, I made a schedule. I like making schedules. I like following schedules. We will not follow this for long. I give this a good three days, but hey, everything is new. The world is upside down. Maybe life will change. But we made it through day one with no major changes.  We did some homework, I attempted to grade some papers, Sadie yelled a lot for no reason at all. So loud.


Does anyone have this answer?
What I found the most mind-boggling today was this math problem Charlotte was supposed to do to keep her mind sharp during her vaca-rona-break. Now, I was always good at math, not geometry or calculus (but who is?). At any rate, what in the crap is the answer to this question? Can we use the numbers more than once? Seriously. Anybody?


Also, as we are not supposed to breathe on, sweat on, or touch on any other humans, I knew it was just a matter of time before my beloved Jazzercise was canceled. So I joined online Jazzercise. The music is meh. The instructors are not MY girls. But the strength made my legs shake like a Marissa set. So, it'll do for now. I know that every human I have ever come in contact with knows about my Jazzercise addiction, so I will just say try it. You do not like it, so you say? Try it, try it, and you may!

Don't judge, you'll be reciting children's books too before the end of this quarantine.

Also, as Sadie will be turning six in two days and will not be having a party, she is accepting money as an "I'm sorry your birthday sucks" gift.

Now for margaritas. 

Cheers.












Tuesday, November 13, 2018

Teachers, let's be honest with ourselves


Let's just go ahead and stop pretending. Let's just go ahead and admit that we know the realities of our profession by this point. Let's admit it for once and for all that we hold this truth about standardized testing to be most self-evident:  The students are not the ones being tested. We are. 

Make no mistake, we are being tested, not trusted. We are not trusted as professionals to do the job we signed on the dotted line for. A job we knew full well would not come with club perks or substantial pay. We signed up for the late night grading, the parent conferences, and the lesson plan creation. But we also signed up to be teachers. Teachers who enjoy designing, creating, and TEACHING what we love!  Yes, we have to assess, test, and quiz those students to make sure they are grasping the material, absolutely. Sometimes we enjoy doing that too! Especially when we see that they GET IT! We, as teachers, can see through our own students' work whether they GET it or not. No one knows our students' abilities in the classroom better than we do. So why do the powers that be need one more test? 

The reason is simple: These standardized tests are not meant for assessing the students, they are meant for assessing the teachers. Making sure WE do our jobs. Having students take teacher-made tests is not enough for the government, a government who doesn't even pay us ignorant schlubs what we are worth. We simply can't be trusted anymore to do our jobs, teach the standards and the curriculum given to us by those in charge. And by those in charge, I mean people who are not in the classroom anymore if they ever were at all.

Yes, I know these tests have been around for 50 years. I know about the Department of Education's National Assessment of Educational Progress test that has been around since 1969. I know that Clinton in 1994 required all states getting federal funding to test kids in 3rd through 8th grade and Bush hammered the nails in the coffin with the No Child Left Behind Act. Obama even put aside millions for testing in a Race to the Top. And let's not get started on Merit pay or the Secretary of Education. The politicians on both sides contributed to this epidemic. It's more about the money than politics. One report stated that the government spent over 1 and a half BILLION on these tests. 

And get this, Pearson now has a program to officially test teachers too. That's right. Show them the money. Show us the bubble sheets. 

And now, in some states like mine, the state has decided to save some money by NOT paying Pearson to grade those standardized tests. So guess who gets to do it? That's right. US. The teachers-- for exactly 100% less than the people who were paid to grade the standardized tests just last year. Now the English teachers in Virginia will have students write an essay which they will then give to two OTHER English teachers who are not the students' teachers and THEY will grade the essay. So far, I'm OK with that as I like rubrics and I know I taught my students how write an essay. But the essay will not actually get a grade. It will be magically beamed into a portal online where it will sit with a check next to it for all perpetuity to prove to the powers that be (who will never EVER look at it) that the student can, in fact, write three different types of essays. 

So...why can't the state just trust the teachers who actually teach the students to grade said papers and give the feedback to their students so they may actually see the value in it? The tests are doing NOTHING except proving we are about middle of the pack in academic achievement with the rest of the civilized world. Great. But we as Americans are so much more than what it says on a bubble sheet, and do you know who knows that? WE DO! The teachers. The elementary school teachers see it. The middle school teachers see it. So do the high school English teachers, the math teachers, the science teachers, the social studies, the art, dance, and shop class teachers. We see it. Every. Single. Day. But the kids only see us teaching to the test. Not valuing education. And that MUST stop.  

But our hands are tied now. We must robotically teach to a test with NO value in it at all. The students aren't creating anything. They aren't investing anything except a pencil in that test. 

So, that being said, when the teachers march on the capital next time, let's add this to their billboard signs: Let us teach. Let us show the students value in education again.

Or not. Maybe we should all just get a job with Pearson. They are getting paid billions. And I have really great test reading skills. I wonder if they have benefits?



I have sources too! Check them out:
http://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2017/02/15/u-s-students-internationally-math-science/
https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2011/03/nclb-standardized-tests-explained/
http://sites.psu.edu/hmmrcldiscussions/2015/04/14/standardized-testing-costs/
https://www.huffingtonpost.com/rainesford-alexandra/the-business-of-standardi_b_9785988.html
https://standardizedtests.procon.org/
http://content.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,1947019,00.html

Sunday, June 17, 2018

The Definition of Dad

I had such a great daddy. I'm so happy my babies do too. 


I respect and adore these two men for such different reasons. My dad was 5-foot-nothing but he could fill a room with his humor and loud (sometimes inappropriate) mouth.

My husband is over six feet tall and is just as happy to let other people have center stage (me most of the time) as opposed to leading the room.

My dad was loud, my husband isn't. David knows how to whisper. My dad and I, not so much.

And although these two men could not be any different on the outside, they both epitomize what it means to be a dad. My dad never missed a sporting event, never missed a recital, a play, or a graduation. My husband goes to every one of the kids' games, Christmas programs, special school days. My dad dressed me and did my hair (much to everyone's chagrin because it was something "special"). My husband fixes ponytails much better than me and dresses my children in clothes that actually match.

Both of these men love being outside with their kids teaching them how to play ball or ride in the boat. 

And although I have loved and adored these two seemingly different men, to me, they both embody what it means to be a man.  They both know how to LOVE their children and their family. They spend time with them, quality time. 


I only wish my babies had gotten a chance to know my daddy as I did.


Saturday, January 13, 2018

Healing Stitches




Dear Keeley 2016,
This year was a gut punch. I think that is probably the best way to describe it. A gut punch that left a gaping wound. You will try and mend this wound and feel hopeless when nothing seems to work. Your children and husband are your life-line, your friends bow with you, but the wound still aches.  But there is hope on the horizon. You feel lost and hopeless now, but in 2017, you will try so many new things and go to so many new places, each helping to stitch you back up as you go. You will go so many places in 2017 I can even make you a top ten list and you know how you love a top 10 list. So here goes.

Top Ten Adventurous Healing Places from 2017:

10. Mom's Closet(s)
I had no idea how pretty it was inside!
You will spend plenty of time this year cleaning out Mom's closets. You will discover that while she always joked Jim about have sooo many pairs of shoes, she was hiding a dark secret. As you clean out the long closet upstairs, you will discover that the woman had no less that 50 pairs of wedge flip flops. Every color you can imagine, in different levels of use. Some barely used. Some worn down. But none given to Goodwill. Why? Who knows? Why does one need 50 pairs of wedge flip flops? Only she can tell you, but it is funny.

The cedar closet downstairs is a different animal. While it is a small closet, you will pull out almost as many clothes from that closet as you did from the giant one upstairs. And you will also find some good steals. Meaning clothes you would have stolen from her anyway, or clothes you didn't know you would love until you tried them on. You hear her saying, "Try them on, Keeley" and you "lose air" as you always did, but you put them on, and she was right as she always was.  And she is with you again.



9. Camping at Kerr Lake
Yes, you heard that right. Real camping. As in, with tents and no electricity and sleeping on the ground with no bathroom and no shower. This is not (and never has been) your idea of fun, but since Sadie made the official decision to be potty trained, you figured what the hell? Sleeping was hot and uncomfortable, but it was something new. The kids found it amusing and took their sleeping bags to sleep in which was a terrible idea as they don't actually stay in one place on the air mattress. For future reference-only a sheet and air. We went with Josh and Amanda in the heat of August, but really, all told, the only issue was the red clay. It got everywhere. Oh, and since it is a state park, no beer. So...there's that.  But otherwise, tons of fun. We pulled the boat down there and being able to walk out from the campsite right into the water and right into the boat was pretty awesome. Your eyeballs were acclimating for surgery so wearing glasses on the boat was interesting. Blind swimming is something everyone should try once. Charlotte and David went fishing at the Dam with Uncle Josh...and caught nothing unfortunately. We cooked, we swam, we tubed, we had fun! At one point, you were swimming alone talking to Mom as you do sometimes and asked for a sign. A little while later, while out on the boat, an eagle followed overhead and flew close for the rest of the day and then landed in the trees right across from campground. A second eagle showed up soon after. If that was not a sign, I don't know what is, seeing that Mom was an Eagle for many, many years.

8. North Core Banks-Long Point Cabin
This was the initial camping adventure although it wasn't as "real" as the August trip. Over Spring Break we went with Eric and his crew to the Cape Lookout National Seashore. All the way to Long Point Cabin Camp. We took a ferry, riding in the truck with the whole family and every supply we could possibly need for a few days with only electricity and shelter in a hut with some bunk-beds, a stove, and a shower.  Once there, if you needed more food, beer, or emergency care, you were outta luck because you were on an island. Waiting for a Ferry. No stores, nothing but huts and trucks and beach.


Luckily for us, ideal weather blessed us that week. Perfect for spending the day on the beach, or swimming in the ocean for the kids. There is no temperature so far that I have seen that will keep a child out of the water. If it is there, they will conquer it. David and Charlotte spent some time fishing and caught some Bluefish. One day the tide was so low we walked clear across the island almost to the other side since the pools weren't there.

We sat around bonfires at night and roasted marshmallows until the sea put our fire out and then the air was too cool to stay outside for long, even if we were sandwiched between two huge trucks on the beach to keep the cold wind at bay.

The kids slept after long days in the sun, and so did you. You didn't stay up drinking, talking with the new people across the deck like your husband and Eric did. You are still not totally yourself, but you are trying. It's tiring, flip flopping between happiness and hopelessness.


7. The Bee and the Biscuit
When you decided to finally take a personal day after the stress of helping your students to pass the first SOL, you decided to try out this restaurant everyone had been talking about. It was in Pungo, a place you used to joke was a made up magical place with your students. But it isn't. It's very real. And it's spectacular. You had heard there was always a long wait to get in and waiting sucks, so you and David dropped the kids off at school and headed there early. No waiting, just heavenly bliss. The Eggs Benedict was divine and the biscuits, jelly, and honey were made by the hand of God.  David surprised you and Charlotte the first day of Christmas break with a second trip. Sadie went to preschool that day (because those saints were still open), but she can always come next time. This time Charlotte got pancakes and we got Sassy Bloody Mary's and, of course, biscuits.....yummm...

6. Mohonk Mountain House
So, instead of going to the Outer Banks this summer, we took a road trip to New York. The kids adore playing with their cousins and David's whole side of the family caravanned up to New Paltz to see Elizabeth and Carl. We hiked some serious trails (I mean, they were not so serious you couldn't wear flip flops, but they were pretty long) and some had swimming holes for the kids at the end. David and Charlotte went with Carl and the kids to camp for a few nights. It was much more comfortable and relaxing than the time in November where it was like 12 degrees and they almost froze to death, so there's that.

Gonna try not to hit this car
with a rocket... 
On July 4th, the neighbors set off fireworks. The entire neighborhood was there, adults, teens, children. All got a turn to shoot off the rockets. It seemed fun until a little later a few rogue fireworks hit some houses. It's all fun and games until you burn down someone's house.

But one of the coolest things the family did, after much frantic hurrying that morning, was to eat breakfast at the Mohonk Mountain House. This place is amazing and grand and glorious. One day when I'm rich, I want to stay for a week. After breakfast, we decided to hike again. And yet again, in flip flops. The goal was to get to the top to see this tower thing, I think it's Sky Top Tower. But the goal is to get up there. Carl and the more adventurous kids (as in, not my kids) went through the Lemon Squeezy route which I think could kill you, but who knows? Poor David pushed a stroller all the way up the mountain.
"The Last!"

Once we got to this tower, all I was able to see was King Haggard glaring down from the top of the tower saying, "I knew you were the last!" The castle tumbling around him as the unicorns are freed from the sea. For some reason I also started reciting "The Lady of Shalott" when Charlotte lay down on some stones with flowers on her chest. "There she weaves by night and day..."

But the funniest part of the entire day is when you, David, the kids and Hope decided to walk down the mountain. Well, it's a big mountain with a lot of trails and you are a Boyer, so you always take a wrong turn. I have no idea why the rest followed you, but you did come upon some really pretty lily pads which made you think of Kermit and the Rainbow Connection..."the lovers, the dreamers, and me." When you finally reached the bottom, you were all pretty much at the front gate, nowhere near where you should be, but Carl found you and you got back home. I think Daddy was more in charge of that adventure than Mom, which is why it was pretty hilarious.        

5. The Look

You finally find your girl. The girl who leaves no roots when you've just paid lots of money to have your roots covered up. The girl who can cut your hair so it just falls correctly. The girl who gives you wine while you are getting your hair done. The girl who can foil like the wind. This girl's name is Christy and she is a queen. I guess I should have listened to my sister-in-law every time she told me where she got her hair done because she has been going to Christy for years.

Randomly, I went to The Look for some waxing (also Rebecca is wonderful) and when they called me Amber, I said....OHHHHH this is the place...can I get my hair done too...by the same chick that does Amber's hair?? Oh, she owns the joint? Gotta wait a few weeks. Summer hair don't care.

Yes, yes, yes. Finally. It's not the same adventure as hiking or camping, but the piece of mind is worth every dime.

4. Kids Kollege
Sadie and Logan ACTING like
they are sad, singing "Cold in my Node
for Christmas" at the Christmas program. 
Listen, I know you are sad that Mum is not around to watch Sadie during the week and have the same relationship with her that she had with Charlotte. And then Nana retired. Yeah...that happened too in 2017. But it's ok. All of Sadie's friends (Vada and Kinley and Griffin) all have decided to go to Kids Kollege. This place is full of women who deserve sainthood. Especially Ms. Jane Ashley, the owner. After spending all summer (ALL SUMMER) day and night with both children who do NOT get along, you call Ms. Jane Ashley who told you there were no summer openings. You beg and cry and plead with her for reprieve and she says sure!! It's the last week and all Mommies need a break. Bring them on in so they can get used to it for free. For free. All week.

So because of this act of kindness, you cut them a break on the first day of school when it is insanity inside. Kids everywhere. Parents outside waiting to see their children get on the bus for the first day of school. You have no idea of the protocol for where or when to leave Sadie. Someone takes her and assures you she will be fine.

And she is. And she has learned so much. Bible verses. Bible songs. Numbers. Letters. She has made so many friends, especially Peyton or "Peyt" and she calls her. And the best part. Charlotte gets to go there too. To afterschool with her best friend, Addie. So, your heart feels sad that they can't be with Mum, but they are in a good place (Mum would still be jealous and want them with her-but that just makes you smile).

3. Beach Eye Care
For years, you toyed with the idea of Lasik. You hated contacts and glasses and going days not being able to see. So when your new girlfriend Alison tells you she went to the exact same eye care place and was told the exact same BS, and she got Lasik and loves it, you decide to do it. So many people you know have had it and aren't blind. You get recommendations, you call around, you get an appointment with the "new to the practice, not to Lasik" Doctor Levine and he convinces you to go forth and conquer. It is one of the best decisions you have ever made.

The surgery was so simple, it was unreal. You go sit in a chair for 10 minutes and they suction cup your eyes so you can't see the scary Clockwork Orange you were afraid to see. They laser cut you (I guess??) then they move you to another room, lay you down and make you sit perfectly still for 15 seconds per eye. A bit scary, but only because blindness seems to be a bit of a downer. You get to take an hour nap in a dark room, then they check you. Then you get to go home and are given ORDERS to take a two hour nap!! When you wake up, YOU CAN SEE!!! The time on the clock, the TV, all the things. Your near-sighted vision is kinda crazy for a few days, but it will be ok!!

Little by little it gets even better. Dry eyes are the only issue, but that is what drops are for. Best decision ever. Being able to see has amazing restorative properties.

2. Your "new" house
That's right, this house that once drove you crazy, is finally done. Well, we still need to lay tile in the bathrooms and install a few lights, but the major parts are done. No more plywood floors or useless rooms. It is all painted and updated and gorgeous. You LOVE your house now, inside and out.


David and Josh worked so hard on what you cannot even see in the walls and the lights. You finally have a study with a place for you to do work and for Charlotte to do homework. You have places for your BOOKS! They are not just stuck up in the room over the garage. You can look at them now. The floors...oh the floors are everything you ever wanted.

You still want more than anything for your mom to walk in the doors and tell you what she thinks about what you did. I am sure she would love the study. She always hated the useless living room. She would be proud of how you organized the pictures. Not having her to do that was the hardest part of setting up this room. Luckily, you have a good friend who has the same eye as Mom for organization. This house brings you peace now, not stress.

1. Jazzercise
So, maybe Lasik is the second-best decision you ever made. Taking your first Jazzercise class in March is the first sign of light, the first moment of euphoria you will feel since losing Mom. You have never, ever liked working out. It's boring. It's hard.  You tried running, but those earbuds just wouldn't stay in your ears and there's no one running with you. And where are you going? Treadmills don't work for you and the outside is full of excuses. Yoga stresses you out. The music is instrumental and sad. Plus, you really hate stretching. Biking...fun, but your kids refuse to get on a bike.The only workout you ever loved was Tae Bo. Ol' Billy Blanks. That was fun, but you would always mute the tape (yes, VHS) or DVD or even Youtube video and turn on your own music because that's what drives you, the music. And other humans you like.


So, on a random Facebook post, you see an offer for two free weeks of Jazzercise. You see the building on your way home from work everyday. Your neighbor does it and she has gotten super in shape. So you go on a Sunday, and even with that hangover, you are revitalized.  You are dancing. To modern music. Music on the radio now. The music you put on while doing Tae Bo. You are dancing and kicking and punching. And weights and abs and legs, oh my. You can't lift your arm the next day to do your mascara.

After the second class (a Strike Class) which is exactly like Tae Bo but with the good music, that was it. It made you happy. It stitched that hole a little bit every time. And the more amazing friends you met, the more amazing classes you took, the more challenges you faced, the better you felt.  Now you are addicted, but it's a good drug, a great cult to follow and be a part of. There are no mirrors surrounding you, just amazing women everywhere, laughing with you. Sometimes laughing at you, but there is laughter. And dancing. And you know how Mom loved to dance. She would have been laughing at you and showing you up, but the thought of that makes you smile even more.


Thursday, December 21, 2017

Catbird


I bought one of these hats. Nope. 
That is definitely a Busch Light. 
My dad was funny, entertaining, and crass, but he was also patient, hardworking, and loving. To many he was The man. The myth. The legend. That's what he was to me, anyway. The man who never raised his voice at me, or at anyone that I remember. He made stern remarks on occasion, but never a shout in anger. I know he could yell because he always cheered for me at every sporting event I ever played in, from Boys Club soccer to high school soccer, no matter how bad we were! He even came to watch me cheer on Friday nights, not just at competitions. He would embarrass me to no end..."Get the ball, Keeley!" I don't know why his cheering bothered me, maybe because it was so loud (or more likely because I was a teenager). Either way, I regret being embarrassed. I regret it because I should have embraced it, not taken it for granted. He was there. He was ALWAYS there. And he was so proud. SO, SO proud of me when I was the only girl playing soccer with the boys at the Boys Club. He was so proud when I started as a freshman on the high school soccer team. He made me trophies and plaques for my accomplishments. "First Female Soccer player at Boys and Girls Club" and "Daddy's Terrific Kid." I don't know if that was an 80's thing or a cool dad thing, but I liked it. I remember being proud of myself for winning a bowling trophy with my dad in the "Bowl for Beverly" tournament. Man, I miss bowling.  

He was also super excited about all of my Red Cross swimming accomplishments. 
One of my favorite Daddy memories could be a Hallmark movie. It was my college graduation from UNC and the Boyers (Daddy, Jill, and Beau) had come up to Chapel Hill for it. They stayed in a hotel in Raleigh for the evening, probably because that was the closest one available. At any rate, I had to be at Kenan Stadium by like 7am or some such nonsensical early hour for a college grad. So, Mom and I, with Brooks, Aunt Debby, and my roommate Tammany headed to the stadium. This was before texting or smart phones so there was no way to relay a message to me that SHOCKING (not shocking) the Boyers were lost. From Raleigh...to Chapel Hill...yep. So, I go to the stadium tired, irritated because I had to go, and sat with my friend Leigh. I had no idea that my dad had finally arrived at the stadium and that he and my little brother Beau were climbing up and around every single bleacher, combing through thousands of seats, calling for me for the entire graduation. Ohhhh, the days before cell phones were HARSH!! I told Mom that when graduation was over, I would meet her back at the car. So I walked alone back across campus to Mom's car. I randomly decided to walk past Morrison Dorm (Motown) on my way back for a little nostalgia. It was a little farther trek, but it was my LAST trek, so...what the hell? As I walked past my freshman dorm and began to journey down the sidewalk towards Mom, I saw them. The Boyers. On the other side of the road. I yelled for them. Daddy! Beau! Jill! And it was seriously like a slow motion reunion. Tears were shed. They thought they had failed. My dad thought he had made it all the way to Chapel Hill only to miss giving his little girl a kiss and hugging her in her Carolina Blue graduation robe. But there we were. Reunited on Manning Drive! Sadly, these were also the days before I had a cell phone OR a digital camera, and ALL of the FILM I took that day was ruined. Couldn't be developed. I called shenanigans and raised MY voice at the woman behind the counter when she told me this bit of information, but the film is gone forever. But no amount of digital film can really do that moment justice anyway. It deserves high definition. Like most of my Daddy memories are. High Definition.

At least Rameses had his picture developed. That's what's really important. 





Wednesday, October 25, 2017

The Grief Window

I am not a grief expert. I never read any of those grief books my friends gave me. I know I should have. I did pick them up and smell them, if that counts. I didn't seek out a psychiatrist or a mental health professional to guide me through my grief. Yet again, I probably should have. I did not even attempt to call or even smell one of those. So, I am unsure of what the grief window is in which a person has carte blanche to ugly cry whenever they want to, lay in bed in the dark for days and cry more when they want to, or scream belligerently at loved ones and be understood in their anger whenever they want to. Because of this ignorance, I do not know if I have missed my grief window to do such things or not, as I have not found the time to do them over the past year and it may be high time to do so. Or maybe not.

Truth be told, I do not like to cry, not in front of people or by myself, really. Maybe I come by that honest. I can count on one hand the amount of times I saw my parents cry. Now, I mean a real cry, not like a misty-eyed Forrest Gump "You died on a Saturday morning and I had you placed under our tree" you-are-heartless-if-you-don't-tear-up-kinda-cry. But a real gusher. I can only assume they didn't like to heart wail because they didn't want to lose control. I know that is why I don't like to. I also think it makes people feel uncomfortable. I  much prefer making people laugh if I'm going to make them uncomfortable anyway. But once Mom got sick, and while Daddy was going downhill, I wouldn't let myself hold tight to them. I deeply regret that. I knew that if I hugged them as tight as they were hugging me, I would lose control and I would start crying and I would not be able to stop. Maybe that is the fear, the fear of what will come of the grief wave.


So...sometimes, I cry in the car. Just enough not to push myself into the ugly cry or make it so anyone knows I've been crying. I never let myself full out wail over Daddy. And so far, I have quiet-tear cried a lot in front of my children and husband this past year, but not past that threshold. Never to the point of no return. I sometimes tear up while I'm reading to the kids (and Charlotte and Sadie call me on it) but then I stop. I don't go lie down on the bed and stay there for a few days. And this is not to say I am not utterly gut-punchingly sad every single day without my parents. I am. I just don't want to let Grief win. We were just never a sad people. We like the funnies. 

I guess I just wonder at what point you just can't do the carte blanche grief anymore. Have there been some studies? Is it in one of my books? I think I may be able to do more than just sniff them now. I mean, at some point, if it sneaks up on me and Grief just Book Thief's me off into that abyss, can I go crawl into the bed and stay a few days?


Wednesday, September 20, 2017

Seven and Sevens

My seventh birthday. The 80's gave us many great fashion pieces, these sweaters among them.

Charlotte turned seven Friday. It's odd how this particular number affects me. When I actually considered it for awhile, I realized that it hits me so hard because in 1987, during my seventh year,  my life really changed. My hairstyle-not so much. That mullet lasted well into adolescence. But I started thinking about how every subsequent seven (ages 17, 27, & 37) also brought me people who would change me forever.

That's my dad in the background watching the worst softball team
 ever assembled play without a mercy rule.
Also, note the hair.

At seven, my parents divorced. Now, that is probably a life-altering shitshow for most kids, but my parents could've written the book on divorced co-parenting. They loved each other until the day they died. I only remember being upset about it once. My dad moved out and lived in a trailer initially and that bothered me enough that I remember sitting in the backseat of Mom's car and crying when I left him. Mom asked if I wanted to go back in for longer. But I didn't. He didn't belong there. So he moved back into his home and I moved with Mom to Griffin Street. 

It was on Griffin Street that my defining moment happened.  Across the street and behind a house and down a little path was Amy's house. I don't remember the exact moment we met, but I do know she became my first real friend, my best friend.  She challenged me, read with me, acted on stage with me, played with me, created with me, and argued with me. I adored her.  She was the coolest kid in school and told me all the hard truths about life. Oh, Santa, your secret was not safe with Amy Simpson.  Our lives have ebbed and flowed. She is the ocean. I, the beach. We have always been connected, but sometimes drift apart only to be brought back together. As it has always been and always will be. Childhood walks home from school to adulthood table talks. She knows me. She knows it all. To this day, we may not agree on everything, but she has held my heart and my hand through my happiest and most gut-wrenching moments. Marriage, divorce, Crazytown, death. She was my right hand at my grandmother's funeral, Francine's, my father's, and my mother's. I will never stop needing her hand to hold.

Charlotte has many friends, but no Amy yet, no 24/7 BFALATSAMSE friend with their own language (icabali...), but one day.

I'm pretty sure one or both of us was entering or leaving Crazytown
when this picture was taken.

Ten years later, at 17, I went to Governor's School. I remember being truly upset when I wasn't chosen to go the year before. But I was most definitely meant to go the summer of 1997. For there, I met my soulmate, Andrea Sarubbi. We too, have our own language (Uney Guavey) and many, many, many secret stories that are just tooooo funny. We instantly clicked. We were both insanely loud, comical, and driven. We both loved the English language and wanted to write the next great American Novel at 17 (although we were thwarted by our teacher). Instead we wrote an epic about Biggie and Tupac and called it a day. 

Chocolate ice cream fight in Motown freshman year!

At UNC, we roomed together. We borrowed each other's clothes, heard distinct clinks and held funeral dirges for hamsters. Motown, Frathouses, Rugby parties, The Bugle Brothel, we did it. I am thankful that social media was not a reality then... 

Our new yearly Girls Getaway Retreat, Ocean City, baby!

She is my sounding board, another person in crazy mother guilt land with me. She's the one who calls to check on me or just to check in. How's the whole family?  Her sister and son both have my middle name (Byrne). It was meant to be!

Charlotte will find her ride or die soulmate one day. If not, we know she and Andrea's son Markie will probably end up at UNC around the same time anyway...


We've been dating for three months. Wanna go to Vegas?
Hells yes! 

A decade hence, at 27, I met David. He checked all the boxes. Cute, college educated (I can live with UVA), good job, and family oriented. We talked all night on the phone and very soon spent every moment we could together even though we lived an hour apart. Because of him, I took a chance at my dream job (Jostens) and we moved to Virginia Beach together. Come to find out, sales are not my thing. But I tried. And I wouldn't have tried had it not been for him.  I also never would have known how much I love teaching without taking that chance and leaving it for a few years.


Accurate.
After successfully raising a beautiful Lab, we figured children would be a breeze. Not so much. We do have two beautiful children. But come to find out, they cannot be Dog Whispered quite as easily as our dog. They are a special kind of crazy. They fight and scream and don't listen. We love them and we're happy we have them, but good LAWD!  There is no break from the insanity. But the craziness is so much easier together with him.

He cooks and cleans. He sings while he cleans...love... 

He brushes the girls' hair. His ponytails are ten times better than mine. He keeps me sane. I know that no matter what we bicker about, when the hard stuff goes down, he is there to pick me up. And I love that he does all the messy things like this morning when my tires were flat and he came out and filled them right back up. I need this in my life. 

We have been through dark times, but "the best way out is always through" and we made it to the light. Without him, I would not have gotten through losing both my parents.

He is my person. We also have our own language...

Smiling through the pain.

At 37, I met myself. I had always had my mother to tell me what to do. Or how to do it. Or help me do it. Or just do it for me. Now, she "guides my sword" but not physically. She can't come get the kids if they're sick. She can't take them for a few days when I am at my wits' end. She can't give me day to day advice.  I have had to buck up and do it myself. I have a wonderful husband and great friends, but a lot of things, I just have to do myself. I realize that is a foreign concept to me whereas many people have been doing this forever, but it's scary to be drifting around in the universe without an anchor. 

So, I created rope ladders.

I have finally embraced a freedom of sorts. I am becoming less stressed. I'm trying to do things that fill the void within ME.  I discovered Jazzercise. I have NEVER, ever enjoyed working out or going to therapy. But Jazzercise is my therapy. I can dance, workout, have an hour to myself, and get healthy. I also have new friends. Other than my wonderful work friends, it's really hard to just make new good friends when you're old...well...I found them. They do the crazy dance with me. They watch me work out like Phoebe running on "Friends" and still like me, so I can get behind that! 

Jazzercise loves me. They really love me.

I am thankful for all of the friendships that have given me my voice in the past year. I am thankful for Table Talks. I am thankful for Voxer. I am thankful that I can hear Leigh's voice and Andrea's voice on a mommy timeline-when we have two minutes without children yelling our name.  And these are the words keeping me sane, helping me find me. I'm also closer to my children because of the fact that I am always with them. I don't think we ever would have been this close without the smothering that comes with summer.

Seven is an archetypal number. It's actually the perfect number, bringing together the trinity of three and the four earthly elements.  It is the symbolic number of perfection, security, safety, and rest. I think this is why Charlotte turning 7 resonates within me as I hope it does within her too.


Chucks and a pretty dress.
My Charlotte turns 7.