To The Me I Was Last Week

Motherhood.

Some days you're planning epic birthday parties, chauffeuring everyone to their favorite places, and winning all the mother of the year awards.

But other days? Other days you are on day 10 of cleaning up after sick children, tired because those 10 nights haven't been any easier than the days, and iced in at home wearing an old, unflattering sweatshirt.

Those days are hard.

The days when everyone needs everything and no one is happy about any of it. One child wants carried to the bathroom, one needs a change of clothes, one needs you to freshen the gatorade they are sipping, and one is asking for the 4th food of the day that you know they will only take one bite of. Everyone wants to play but no one feels good enough to enjoy it and so they just grump and fight. 

You play mediator, you play house keeper, you play short-order cook - complete with the unhappy customers, meltdowns, and tantrums.

Those days are hard.

The days where you dress everyone in their snow clothes which takes approximately 82 hours so that you can hurry outside and play for all of 2 minutes before someone needs to bring the littlest back in, and so you miss out on the actual good sledding fun. So, you start dinner, excited to start new recipe you are sure will redeem the day ... but it flops completely so you end up washing dishes and wiping down counters while leftovers warm in the microwave instead?

Oh, those days are hard.

But there is beauty in those long, monotonous, not very much fun, hard days. 

There are snuggles and I love you's. There is the security you are providing and the relationships you are strengthening. There is satisfaction in caring for the ones you love and adore. 

And though they don't always know how to express it themselves, sometimes they climb into your lap even though they are getting a bit too big to be comfortable there. They let you read them a story, and ask you to lay by them at night.

There is something incredibly wonderful about being the one that is there for it all - even on the hard days. 

But if you don't feel it now? If you can't exactly hold on to that feel good thought or it isn't quite strong enough to make you smile through the thick of it? That's okay too. Some moments just have to be gotten through. Some days are just hard.

Just know that some day, maybe even next week when it's an easier day, you'll look back and remember how hard it was - but then you'll be able to see the beautiful silver lining - and you'll be thankful you were the one who got to be the one, even on those long, hard days.

In The "Whose On First" Time of Year

Ah, this time of year. It's an interesting one for educators. 

It's a time when there is excitement over every potential snow day and dread over broken routines and messed up plans. It's the time of dreaded indoor recess that everyone is tired of, and dreaded outdoor recess that no one is dressed quite warm enough for.

It's a time when there is a determination to "buckle down" and "power through" those remaining standards, and a severe decrease in motivation for both teachers and students brought on by weather and, well, time of year.

It's a time when there is comfort in knowing your students well, and the beginnings of wonderings about what next year's group will bring.

It's a time for "What else do I need to do this year?" and "What do I need to remember to requisition for next year?"

It's a time when people begin to make 'next year' decisions and changes. A time of year of hushed assumptions and whispers of change. It's a time of year that brings hallway gossip and announcements of movement and plenty of questions of what next year will be.

It's a time of year that often begets discontentment. 

It's a time of year that always begets change.

Oh, I'm not making any changes. Nope, I'll still be here, in my 4th grade "hole" for as long as they will let me, just doin' my thing. But just because I'm not making changes doesn't mean change won't find me. People will retire. People will move districts. Students will go to 5th grade and new students will come to 4th. Procedures will be tweaked. Expectations will differ. 

All next year. I don't necessarily get to know about any of those things in a definite way just yet ... and that's okay. Except, I am a planner. So those things that will happen next year? Oh, they are already on my heart and mind. 

And yet, I can't do anything about them. Decisions aren't final. Whats "anticipated' is not confirmed. What is confirmed is not clearly figured out. The mystery of change stresses me. It takes away my ability to plan.

Thus, we enter another time of year I must pray through.

I pray for the foresight to speak up about the things I need to and the wisdom to stay quiet about the things I should. I pray for next year's teaching teams and classes and my this years kids presents and futures. I pray that I prepare the ones I'm with and am prepared for the ones I will get to meet. And patience - oh, I'm always praying for patience. 

Most of all, I pray for the right balance of planning and proactivity (which I *think* is a strength) and contentment in the waiting (because goodness knows I am not always so good at the waiting). 

Because no-matter what else, it's a "give it to God and quit stressing about it" time of year - and that I am always working on.

Start With Love

Sometimes toddlers become overwhelmed with life and choices and circumstances and throw tantrums.

Sometimes kids get wild and roudy and end up hurting themselves. 

Sometimes teenagers make bad and wrong decisions that end with their feelings getting hurt and opportunities getting missed. 

Sometimes adults - family members, spouces, friends, employees, coworkers - mess up big, and it affects their world. 

And sometimes, from where you stand, you can see the mess up. You can pinpoint the moment, the choice, the action that led to the heartache. You can talk through all of the "If only..."s And "you should have..."s. And sometimes, maybe even most of the time, you're exactly right. 

But yelling never fixes a toddlers tantrum, harsh words don't make a teens listen better, "I told you so" makes very few friends, and more and more I'm reminded of this:

Don't. Do. It. 

They won't hear it anyway. 

Oh sure, they might *need* to hear it. There really are things people need to be told ... And you might be the one that needs to do the telling. 

But tread carefully. 

If you lecture first, the ears close. The frustration accumulates. The anger and tears boil over. The hug never comes because doors are slammed and bridges burned. 

But if you start with the hug? If you start by reaffirming that you are here for them - that no matter what or where the melistake lies, the fact that they are hurting is important to you - that you've got their back. Well then, the thing that you might have to say or the things you may need to point out, can be heard a little easier and digested a bit smoother. 

If you start with the hug, there will be time for words later. But if you jump in with harsh words ... You might not make it to the hug. 

We're not here to point out everything each other has done wrong. We're here to help each other find our way the best way we can. And that way starts with love, and a lot of times, a hug.