Forever - For Now

Forever

“Nothing lasts forever.” There’s a problem with hoping that’s true, because everything lasts forever. There is nothing new in our world, just recycled. Every thought you dwell on someone else has thought, every sad song you hear, many have cried to. Every smile that crosses your face has been seen on other faces. Fleeting, flowing, forever. 

And thankfully so, because from that ‘forever-ness’ comes empathy and understanding. 

It truly is physics, energy isn’t destroyed, we have reoccurring nightmares, and reoccurring dreams, we even have reoccurring apparitions, a seemingly replaying of an emotional event that we call a ghost. We live with many ghosts, and we call them our memories. But they are everyones memories, there is no event that someone else has not experienced, in some way shape or form. 

In this finite evolution we call our lives we have only so many moments to live. When we choose to dwell on the same moments, over and over again, then we believe that they won’t last forever, so we have a hard time letting them go. When we finally understand that the moments we dread, are no different than the moments we adore, then the flow of every moment begins and we can live in each one.

“Nothing lasts forever?” 

Everything lasts forever.

Waiting for SuperMom

Waiting for SuperMom 

I am all for putting the best teachers into every classroom. If we only asked as much of parents.

My daughter was pushing a D in Algebra. I didn’t do well in Algebra, so it was easy for me to dismiss her grade as an inherent ‘gift’ from me, however, she ‘gets’ algebra, so what’s the problem? 

There is a tool our school district provides its parents; it’s AERIES. AERIES allows me to check grades, assignments, and attendance. It has links to teachers sites, for homework, and updates. Without it I would have to resort to the proverbial “Do you have any homework?” drone, but now I can trade in my Nagging Mom title for ‘Spy.’ A title I am not afraid to own. My child can consider me a spy, she’d be better off not calling me one, but she can think it all she wants. As long as she is my responsibility, I will do what I need to, to give her the foundation to succeed. If I want my child to succeed I have to act like her Mom. No, I have to be her Mom, and as I have learned, being a parent is not for sissies. If we expect a lot of our teachers, we need to expect more of our parents. 

We expect our teachers to design lesson plans that incorporate challenging content with stimulating methods, that will produce outstanding scholars. On the flip side, we expect parents to get their kids to school on time, hopefully fed, and clothed (appropriately), provide meager supplies, maybe a lunch, and pick them up when school let’s out. We want our teachers to keep our child engaged for 40 +/- minutes, all the while plying them with a plethora of information for which they (the teacher) are expected to somehow facilitate the students to retain. While parents are expected to pose the question. “Do you have any homework?” and believe when their child replies, “Nope” or “I did it in class.” On occasion parents are called upon to assist in homework, 9 times out of 10, it is a subject they end up Googling, because they haven’t  had a need to study that particular subject since the days, they themselves, sat riveted in a classroom.

There are parents who can be found helping in the classroom, and who are seen about campus, but they are few, and far between, and by the time their child hits Jr. High, they thin out as to be negligible. But teachers are expected to be there, with my child, 5 days a week, for most of the year. 

Of course, we raise our children, we do everything for them, we give them a roof and food, we dress them and pay their phone bill, we buy them computers and Uggs. We give them money when they need it. We love our children and want the best for them, we just hope the best is out there, so we can buy it, or rent it, or find some way to get it for them. I believe the best for them is right where they live. We love our children and would do anything for them, except say “No.”, or make them do chores, or teach them manners, or require them to respect us, or others. We love our children and would do anything for them, except, ask them to take care of the pet they begged us for, or teach them to push a lawn mower, or teach them help thy neighbor, or hold a door for someone, or give up their seat for someone who needs it. 

We cannot fathom our lives without our children, yet half the time we don’t even know where they are, nor do we ask where they are going. When we do ask, we believe that they will be where they say they are, and that they will stay there, until we see them again. Some parents believe that children get to an age where they should have the freedom to do, and go, as they please, and they are right, that age is 18. Until the age of 18, my child is my responsibility. 

If I want a well educated child, it is my responsibility to pick up where the teacher leaves off. When I home-schooled my daughter, I didn’t just correct the work she was assigned and hand it back to her, I went over what she didn’t understand, until she understood it. The difference now is, it's the teacher who instructs and facilitates, the teacher quizzes and tests, and does their best to make sure my child, and 20 other children, understand the material and subject, and it is my job to pick up the slack. 

My daughter was pushing a D in Algebra, I didn’t do well in Algebra, but I am determined to do well as a parent. With the help of a tool at my disposal, I learned she was missing 2 quizzes and some homework, her computer was at risk of being taken away if she didn’t go in at lunch-time and take the quizzes, and I made sure she finished the assignments she missed and now she’s pulling a B-. 

I am all for putting the best teachers into every classroom. If we only asked as much of parents.

The Conversation

What is the conversation in your head?

Do you believe you're wiser? or just older?

I'm a 54 year old woman, and I'm feeling older. Not older than 54; older than the woman I know to be me. I don't know this 54 year old woman, I can't talk to her like I could the 40 year old woman I was, and she left so quickly, I barely had a chance to ask her what she was up to. I don't think I had one conversation with the 30-something woman I was, she was too busy living her life.

What would I say to the 30 year old me? "Soak it all in, Suck it up, and most of all, enjoy your kids, 'cuz they won't be there forever. Oh yea, and take some time off from worrying about the "important" things, yea, I got the whole "small stuff" idea, but when you're living it, it's important, and I would just tell myself that the important stuff (and the small stuff) takes away from the "living" stuff.

"It went by so fast! Didn't it? WTF???" See? that's my new conversation, and that's one depressing, non-productive conversation! It's self-defeating and, quite frankly, boring. So I try not to talk to myself. But then I remember some wise advice...

A true story. Recently, two teenage girls, going through that horrific time in their lives when it's almost too hard to be teenage girls (been there?), were given an exercise to help them understand that life does get better, an exercise to illuminate the idea of how becoming a woman can be empowering, and to give them a reason to hang in there. The exercise goes like this:

The Conversation.

Find a comfortable place to sit, close your eyes, take a deep breath, relax. With your eyes closed, imagine yourself on a shaded path, barefoot, so you can feel the cool, soft ground under you feet. Begin to walk forward, aware of the soft dirt on your feet and the cool shaded air on your skin, just walk slowly forward...Begin to look around you, are there trees ahead? Set the scene, whatever makes you comfortable.
As you walk along this path, look ahead of you, you can see a figure in the distance, walking toward you. Pay attention to the figure as she comes into focus. As you walk toward each other, I want you to become aware that this figure that approaches you, looks like you, but older. Notice her features, the way she walks with her head high and a confident smile, see looks as though she recognizes you, and is very happy to see you. There is something about her that seems Wise, and she holds her arms out as you near, she gives you an embrace, you feel her strong arms and her soft cheek against yours. You feel safe in her arms.
The two of you stand face to face, and you realize, without words, that this is you, as an older, wiser woman. Suddenly you have a million questions whirling through your head, she smiles and says, "Ask me anything."
Ask her about her life, does she have children? where does she live? is she married? has she traveled? what does she like to do? Ask her everything...get to know her...feel how much you love her, and how grateful she is that you are there.
When you are done, when you have run out of questions, she will take your hands and look into your eyes and tell you that you are welcome to visit her, any time. She will tell you that you are never alone, and that she will always be there, when you need her.
The most important part of this exercise is that when you are done with this conversation, you do not turn and walk away from her, you stand there, face to face, holding each others hands and smile, and simply open your eyes, you never leave each other alone, again.

You know who turned these teenage girls onto this exercise? Me. My mother committed suicide when I was 28 years old, I learned a lot from that, I learned enough that I know it gets better, I know there is a lifetime of living and when it's over, the conversation ends.

So I think this 54 year old me, needs to meet the 80 year old me, I bet she'll cheer me up!

Go talk to yourself!