Today during dinner I broke the news to my kids. I said those dreaded words. "Tomorrow you all have to get up early." Chorus of moans and whys surround the table.
Scott- "Because mommy has to start back to work tomorrow and I have work too. And in a week you guys will all be in school"
Bella- *with look of horror on her face* "No school for me!"
Theresa- "No school for you."
Will- "ya know I have been thinking, I am going to try and clean out my desk once a week this year. Cause last year it was a big mess. And actually the year before that and the year before that."
Theresa- "maybe you could actually keep track of your books. Instead of swearing to me that you brought them home and then you finding them lost in your desk a week later."
Will- "No, my friends would find my lost books in THEIR desks."
Theresa - "How do you suppose that happened"?
Will- "Sneaky Ninjas came into the school in the middle of the night and put my books in their desks."
Theresa- "So..not that you aren't paying attention and you accidentally stuck your books in their desks?"
Will- "No definitely sneaky ninjas."
Theresa- "Makes perfect sense..."
Tomorrow is my first day of in-service. First day of a new year. Here is to a fresh, ninja-free start back.
Showing posts with label Will. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Will. Show all posts
Monday, August 20, 2012
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Keep going
He was sobbing. Dirt streaked down his face and blood streaming from his knee. And what did his compassionate, loving mother do? "Get up Will. Let's try again." "No! I hate it! I will never be able to ride a bike. I don't care! I am done!" Commence sobbing and walking away.
Now I had a choice here. I could let him walk away. I could let him quit. After all he was having a lot of trouble. He was spending more time on the pavement than on the pedals. But I couldn't. I also knew how bad he felt that he couldn't do this yet. Partially my fault, as I had never bought him a bike because there was no place to ride. Then he discovered that all his friends were riding and he..couldn't.
I knew this was hard for him. I also know lots of things are going to be hard that you can't quit. For me, this was becoming less about staying up on two wheels and more of a lesson I remembered learning myself. I once was stuck in the middle of a cliff. Ok...maybe not a cliff, but it was a high rock. We were rock climbing for a training for summer camp. I was screaming "No! I hate it! I will never be able to climb this rock. I don't care! I am done." And I had a friend who refused to lower the rope. "Nope. Not done. You are done when you climb over the top of that ledge." He told me he would wait here all day. I knew he would. He encouraged and told me where to put my feet. Finally, I pulled myself over the top. I did it. That feeling of victory is what I wanted for my son.
I told him to get back here and get on the bike. I grabbed the back of his bike and ran beside him. I "ignored" his tears and begging. A couple of times we both tumbled and it truth be told I started to wonder myself. What if he doesn't get it? Soon, my husband came to the rescue. He took my son and began to talk with him and run beside him. I went into the kitchen to get supper ready. After about a half an hour they called me out. Will was doing better. He was staying up for a few pedals before crashing to the ground. It was a small victory for the day.
Day by day Will started to go out on his own. Trying and falling....but getting up. Trying again. I have to say I was more proud of him each time he picked his bike off the ground than when I finally saw him riding. Free of training wheels, peddling his heart out, and smile wider than I had ever seen it. He did it. "Look at me mom!" he shouted as he raced through a mud puddle.
As a matter of fact, he is now so good that this weekend at camp he was at the top of a very large hill and was ready to go down. "Umm..Will that is too high." "Let him go," my husband said. "But he will get hurt." "Let him go." So I did. I held my breath as he came down the hill, hitting bumps, scooting all around, and then landing on the bottom with a big smile on his face. Let him go.
Now I had a choice here. I could let him walk away. I could let him quit. After all he was having a lot of trouble. He was spending more time on the pavement than on the pedals. But I couldn't. I also knew how bad he felt that he couldn't do this yet. Partially my fault, as I had never bought him a bike because there was no place to ride. Then he discovered that all his friends were riding and he..couldn't.
I knew this was hard for him. I also know lots of things are going to be hard that you can't quit. For me, this was becoming less about staying up on two wheels and more of a lesson I remembered learning myself. I once was stuck in the middle of a cliff. Ok...maybe not a cliff, but it was a high rock. We were rock climbing for a training for summer camp. I was screaming "No! I hate it! I will never be able to climb this rock. I don't care! I am done." And I had a friend who refused to lower the rope. "Nope. Not done. You are done when you climb over the top of that ledge." He told me he would wait here all day. I knew he would. He encouraged and told me where to put my feet. Finally, I pulled myself over the top. I did it. That feeling of victory is what I wanted for my son.
I told him to get back here and get on the bike. I grabbed the back of his bike and ran beside him. I "ignored" his tears and begging. A couple of times we both tumbled and it truth be told I started to wonder myself. What if he doesn't get it? Soon, my husband came to the rescue. He took my son and began to talk with him and run beside him. I went into the kitchen to get supper ready. After about a half an hour they called me out. Will was doing better. He was staying up for a few pedals before crashing to the ground. It was a small victory for the day.
Day by day Will started to go out on his own. Trying and falling....but getting up. Trying again. I have to say I was more proud of him each time he picked his bike off the ground than when I finally saw him riding. Free of training wheels, peddling his heart out, and smile wider than I had ever seen it. He did it. "Look at me mom!" he shouted as he raced through a mud puddle.
As a matter of fact, he is now so good that this weekend at camp he was at the top of a very large hill and was ready to go down. "Umm..Will that is too high." "Let him go," my husband said. "But he will get hurt." "Let him go." So I did. I held my breath as he came down the hill, hitting bumps, scooting all around, and then landing on the bottom with a big smile on his face. Let him go.
I hope we both learned something. I want him to remember to never let go. If you want something, go after it. It is ok to fall. In falling we learn. But get back up. Keep fighting. Keep trying. I need to let go. Remember myself that it is ok to see him fall. Okay to see him get up. Because his success makes it all worth it.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
My birthday boy
Happy Birthday to my first angel. I didn't believe in miracles until you came into my life. You fill my days with laughter and joy. I love you to the moon and back.
love always,
mama
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Bitter Sweet
Breathe in and out. One step in front of the other. After all, this wasn't my first time on the merry go round. I lay in bed for hours. Trying to sleep. Drifting off and on. I swear I am more nervous for this than they are. I hear my alarm go off. How can it be time for this already. And I am not talking about breakfast. How can it be time to put my princess on a bus? How did I miss it?
First days are so very bitter sweet. What an exciting time. It is so sweet to see your children develop into their own person. For you to look at this little person and see the uniqueness and the passion for life. It is so bitter though that they start to step away from you as they find this world.
It is so sweet to hear wonderful praises about your child. To hear how kind and compassionate they are to others. How they are making the world better just by bringing joy into it with their presence. But so bitter that you weren't there to see or hear it.
It is so sweet to watch them take their first steps into the world. To stand at the sidelines and cheer for them. To shout for joy with their accomplishments and wrap your arms around them in their disappointments. But so bitter to stand at a distance sometimes as you watch those steps. Bitter to know that disappointments will come sooner or later.
It is so sweet to learn to let go and trust. Trust that my children are in the hands of Another. That He will hold them in the palm of His hand. It is so sweet to trust that my children will carry my love for them in their hearts all the days of their lives. It is bitter though to know that I can't always control everything.
One the first day of school, I watch them. He is in second grade. Eating his waffles with his hair sticking up in the back even though I have tried to tame it. She is eating her English muffin with butter and cinnamon. Kicking her shiny black shoes and occasionally smoothing down her skirt. She is singing a song and he hums his own little tune. Oblivious to the life changing thoughts running through Mommy's head. I look at my sweet little babies growing up one moment at a time.
"Time to go," I say trying to chock back some tears. They put on their giant book bags. Smiling and ready to tackle the world....or at least the elementary school. Pictures and pictures. Then we get into the van. I walk them into the school. I notice Will is holding his book bag straps and not my hand as we walk in. That is ok....I guess. We stop in front of Rachel's class and I kiss her good-bye. As I let go of her hand but she takes my heart. I blink back tears and smile and wave. I pray that the kids will love her as much as we do and her teacher will think she hung the moon like I do.
I walk my boy to second grade. He reaches for my hand. Nervous. I squeeze his hand and tell him to watch where we are going so he can find his room. "Why?" he asks. "Because I didn't think I would walk you down here everyday." "Why not?" he asked. "I guess I could if you want," I told him. He looks up at me, something I treasure while I still can, and he smiles and says "I want." We arrive at his bright yellow classroom. I see familiar faces of his friends. I see little desks all lined up in a row. I know one of the desks is his. I hug him tight. Hold on for a second longer. He walks into his classroom, throws up his hands, and says "hello everybody." I chuckle as I walk away. As I walk through the halls, I pray for them. First for my children. I pray that for their health and safely. I pray that a passion for education will be instilled in their hearts. I pray that they let their light shine for everyone to see. That someday they could perhaps share their faith and love those who need it.
I walked into the school with two and now I climb into the van as one. I sit and buckle the seat belt. Suddenly everything gets so fuzzy. The tear slid down my cheek and onto my lap. My throat tightens and I gasp. Finally I let myself have my first day cry. I cry because first days are so bitter sweet. Bitter because I now sit here alone. But so sweet knowing how blessed I am to have these amazing kids in my life. Sweet to know how these children will touch the world. So very sweet to know that they will come home and still crawl up on my lap and tell me about their new friends, what they played, and what they learned. So bitter sweet.
First days are so very bitter sweet. What an exciting time. It is so sweet to see your children develop into their own person. For you to look at this little person and see the uniqueness and the passion for life. It is so bitter though that they start to step away from you as they find this world.
It is so sweet to hear wonderful praises about your child. To hear how kind and compassionate they are to others. How they are making the world better just by bringing joy into it with their presence. But so bitter that you weren't there to see or hear it.
It is so sweet to watch them take their first steps into the world. To stand at the sidelines and cheer for them. To shout for joy with their accomplishments and wrap your arms around them in their disappointments. But so bitter to stand at a distance sometimes as you watch those steps. Bitter to know that disappointments will come sooner or later.
It is so sweet to learn to let go and trust. Trust that my children are in the hands of Another. That He will hold them in the palm of His hand. It is so sweet to trust that my children will carry my love for them in their hearts all the days of their lives. It is bitter though to know that I can't always control everything.
One the first day of school, I watch them. He is in second grade. Eating his waffles with his hair sticking up in the back even though I have tried to tame it. She is eating her English muffin with butter and cinnamon. Kicking her shiny black shoes and occasionally smoothing down her skirt. She is singing a song and he hums his own little tune. Oblivious to the life changing thoughts running through Mommy's head. I look at my sweet little babies growing up one moment at a time.
"Time to go," I say trying to chock back some tears. They put on their giant book bags. Smiling and ready to tackle the world....or at least the elementary school. Pictures and pictures. Then we get into the van. I walk them into the school. I notice Will is holding his book bag straps and not my hand as we walk in. That is ok....I guess. We stop in front of Rachel's class and I kiss her good-bye. As I let go of her hand but she takes my heart. I blink back tears and smile and wave. I pray that the kids will love her as much as we do and her teacher will think she hung the moon like I do.
I walk my boy to second grade. He reaches for my hand. Nervous. I squeeze his hand and tell him to watch where we are going so he can find his room. "Why?" he asks. "Because I didn't think I would walk you down here everyday." "Why not?" he asked. "I guess I could if you want," I told him. He looks up at me, something I treasure while I still can, and he smiles and says "I want." We arrive at his bright yellow classroom. I see familiar faces of his friends. I see little desks all lined up in a row. I know one of the desks is his. I hug him tight. Hold on for a second longer. He walks into his classroom, throws up his hands, and says "hello everybody." I chuckle as I walk away. As I walk through the halls, I pray for them. First for my children. I pray that for their health and safely. I pray that a passion for education will be instilled in their hearts. I pray that they let their light shine for everyone to see. That someday they could perhaps share their faith and love those who need it.
I walked into the school with two and now I climb into the van as one. I sit and buckle the seat belt. Suddenly everything gets so fuzzy. The tear slid down my cheek and onto my lap. My throat tightens and I gasp. Finally I let myself have my first day cry. I cry because first days are so bitter sweet. Bitter because I now sit here alone. But so sweet knowing how blessed I am to have these amazing kids in my life. Sweet to know how these children will touch the world. So very sweet to know that they will come home and still crawl up on my lap and tell me about their new friends, what they played, and what they learned. So bitter sweet.
Monday, May 2, 2011
A new lifestyle
Scott- "If I find one more movie on the floor and not in its case, I am taking away the movies, your tv...everything."
Will- "You mean we will be like the Irish who don't believe in electricity?"
Scott- "Amish. And if you don't start taking care of your movies, then yes."
Will- "Then we might as well go and buy the horse and carriage now."
Mommy bursts into laughter as daddy glares.
Will- "You mean we will be like the Irish who don't believe in electricity?"
Scott- "Amish. And if you don't start taking care of your movies, then yes."
Will- "Then we might as well go and buy the horse and carriage now."
Mommy bursts into laughter as daddy glares.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
What 7 looks like
I made a chocolate cake today and covered it in fudge icing. I decorated it with rainbow sprinkles and then put a big waxed "7" on it.
The one who made me a mother turns 7 today. My William Alan. In a way, 7 seems like too many years. That was just last week where I was up all night with him. Wasn't he just sitting in a high chair smearing spaghetti everywhere? He was just dancing to the Wiggles in his diaper while I snapped pictures like crazy. In other ways, how could he have only been a part of my life for a mere seven years. Was there a life before him? Certainly there are bits and pieces. But the brightest and the best memories almost always have him there.
What does 7 look like? Years of rocking, holding, praying to sleep. Cutting off crusts of bread and mixing pink milk. Reading silly stories and listening to the best jokes told in a little voice with a missing front tooth. Big blue eyes filled with fear before kindergarten shots and the same blue eyes smiling as he gets off the bus after his first day.
Seven years of prayers, of taming down cowlicks, and scrubbing marker off bellies. Washing sand out of hair and dancing in ocean waves. Years of mixing brownies and chasing through walmart. Batman costumes and scoring a goal heard round the world. Throwing sticks in campfires and swing high but not too high.
Years filled with more joy and laughter than I thought possible. More fear of failure and screaming at the scary place the world is becoming for him. Years of filling him with the knowledge that he always will have a safe place to land and a home to come to. That he has a family who loves him to the moon and back and a heavenly Father who loves him enough to go to the cross for him.
What does 7 look like? The best 7 years of my life. I love you baby. Happy Birthday!
The one who made me a mother turns 7 today. My William Alan. In a way, 7 seems like too many years. That was just last week where I was up all night with him. Wasn't he just sitting in a high chair smearing spaghetti everywhere? He was just dancing to the Wiggles in his diaper while I snapped pictures like crazy. In other ways, how could he have only been a part of my life for a mere seven years. Was there a life before him? Certainly there are bits and pieces. But the brightest and the best memories almost always have him there.
What does 7 look like? Years of rocking, holding, praying to sleep. Cutting off crusts of bread and mixing pink milk. Reading silly stories and listening to the best jokes told in a little voice with a missing front tooth. Big blue eyes filled with fear before kindergarten shots and the same blue eyes smiling as he gets off the bus after his first day.
Seven years of prayers, of taming down cowlicks, and scrubbing marker off bellies. Washing sand out of hair and dancing in ocean waves. Years of mixing brownies and chasing through walmart. Batman costumes and scoring a goal heard round the world. Throwing sticks in campfires and swing high but not too high.
Years filled with more joy and laughter than I thought possible. More fear of failure and screaming at the scary place the world is becoming for him. Years of filling him with the knowledge that he always will have a safe place to land and a home to come to. That he has a family who loves him to the moon and back and a heavenly Father who loves him enough to go to the cross for him.
What does 7 look like? The best 7 years of my life. I love you baby. Happy Birthday!
Friday, August 13, 2010
Canada?
As I am climbing in Will's bed for him to fall asleep....
Me- "Will, we are going to memorize a new scripture. It is Pappy Demi's favorite."
Will-" What is it?"
Me- "Philippians 4:13 I can do all things through Him who strengthens me. I as in William Demi can do all things like go to bed by myself or be nice to my brother through Him which is Jesus who gives you the strength."
BIG PAUSE
Will- "All sure is a lot of things. You mean I could even drive to Canada?"
Me- "Go to sleep William."
Me- "Will, we are going to memorize a new scripture. It is Pappy Demi's favorite."
Will-" What is it?"
Me- "Philippians 4:13 I can do all things through Him who strengthens me. I as in William Demi can do all things like go to bed by myself or be nice to my brother through Him which is Jesus who gives you the strength."
BIG PAUSE
Will- "All sure is a lot of things. You mean I could even drive to Canada?"
Me- "Go to sleep William."
Friday, July 16, 2010
are you awake?
My first born angel has never been a sleeper. In fact I will call him the "anti-sleeper." When he was first born I tried everything. Bassinet, swing, cuddle-U, bed, floor. front, back, side. with milk, without milk. Everything. He never slept more than 20 minutes. My mom said "Theresa he is a baby. He has to sleep sometime." So she borrowed him. She brought him back. "Theresa! This baby never sleeps!" Exactly. At 2 months he will....4 months...HALF A YEAR. Nope.
And frankly he is 6 and still does not like to fall or stay asleep. He struggles. His newest obsession is that he hates to be the only one wake. If his sister falls asleep first, he wakes her up. nice. So it has come down to me coming to his bed and laying with him. And I wait for it......"Mommy, will you stay awake until I am asleep." "Yes, Will."
He asks the same question every night. Like, tonight may be different. I may change my mind. Sneak in a winker before him. But nope. Every night he asks and every night I tell him the same thing. I will stay awake until you are asleep. Sometimes that is enough. Sometimes he asks again. But I stay with him. Until his little body relaxes and he begins to breath deep. Then I can sneak out to my own bed.
I love to sleep. But when he first started this I was reminded of me decades ago. My own dad was a night owl. Mom always went to bed early, but my dad would be up into the night watching the news and then the nightly talk shows. I would fall asleep up stair listening to his TV. If I needed a drink I would be able to see by the glow of his TV. He would look over as I ran to the kitchen. I knew he was awake. So I could sleep. Did I fear someone breaking in or monster under the bed and think my dad being awake would send them running? Maybe..... But really it was the comfort of knowing that while I was resting, someone bigger than me was keeping watch. I felt safe.
Now, that I am the "someone bigger" I often fail big time in the fear department. Sure, I can protect my son from the boogieman (as long as he is pretend right? Cause that would really mess me up!) but am I big enough to protect him from illness? I can make sure he is fed and cared for, but what about his trials in life? Are my arms that big?
Since those nights many years ago, my dad now is watching over me from a new place. So who is up to chase away my boogieman? I have my own worries and woes which I am not big enough or strong enough to handle.
And frankly he is 6 and still does not like to fall or stay asleep. He struggles. His newest obsession is that he hates to be the only one wake. If his sister falls asleep first, he wakes her up. nice. So it has come down to me coming to his bed and laying with him. And I wait for it......"Mommy, will you stay awake until I am asleep." "Yes, Will."
He asks the same question every night. Like, tonight may be different. I may change my mind. Sneak in a winker before him. But nope. Every night he asks and every night I tell him the same thing. I will stay awake until you are asleep. Sometimes that is enough. Sometimes he asks again. But I stay with him. Until his little body relaxes and he begins to breath deep. Then I can sneak out to my own bed.
I love to sleep. But when he first started this I was reminded of me decades ago. My own dad was a night owl. Mom always went to bed early, but my dad would be up into the night watching the news and then the nightly talk shows. I would fall asleep up stair listening to his TV. If I needed a drink I would be able to see by the glow of his TV. He would look over as I ran to the kitchen. I knew he was awake. So I could sleep. Did I fear someone breaking in or monster under the bed and think my dad being awake would send them running? Maybe..... But really it was the comfort of knowing that while I was resting, someone bigger than me was keeping watch. I felt safe.
Now, that I am the "someone bigger" I often fail big time in the fear department. Sure, I can protect my son from the boogieman (as long as he is pretend right? Cause that would really mess me up!) but am I big enough to protect him from illness? I can make sure he is fed and cared for, but what about his trials in life? Are my arms that big?
Since those nights many years ago, my dad now is watching over me from a new place. So who is up to chase away my boogieman? I have my own worries and woes which I am not big enough or strong enough to handle.
I will never leave you nor forsake you. Hebrews 13:5
It is nice to know that even when everyone in my house is asleep there is someone who is watching out for us. Someone who promised to look out for us. Someone who is bigger and stronger than me. And in knowing this I can rest.
In my own times of quiet desperation (and the not so quiet), I know that Christ has walked with me. He has held me up at funerals and in my bedroom. He has walked through the valley of hopelessness and heartfelt pain. Did he take away the pain. No. Did he take away the sting of rejection. Not at first. He walked it with me.
When I first became a Christian, I read a scripture that talked about God holding our right hands. Being 16, I made this my thing. When I felt alone I would reach out my right hand and squeeze. When I felt scared I would reach out my right hand and squeeze. I knew he was there. I wasn't alone. And that has made all the difference. Life is easier when you have a friend to hold your hand through it.
And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age." Matt 18 :20
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Happy Birthday Will!!!
My baby. The one who changed my life. How can you be 6? Two hands as we like to say now. I couldn't be more proud to be your mommy. You are so sweet and polite. Such a kind soul. Your laugh brightens any day. I remember those sleepless nights in the beginning. I begged for sleep and thought it would never be over. And here we are. Kindergarten, reading, sleeping on your own, and saying "that is ok mommy, I'll do it myself." My little man. I love you the mostest.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
You know that old saying...
...about when you have a child it is like your heart walking around outside of your body??Well, it may be old and cliche, but holy smokes on the first day of Kindergarten is it true! Here he is. My baby. 5 years old with a backpack on. New sneakers on and his BUS tag attached to the back??
I thought I was good. I thought I would be excited for him. I got up early and began to get myself ready for work. And I started to cry. At first I tried not to. But then I just sat down and cried. and cried. Then I had to get Will up. I wiped my eyes and went to get him dressed for his first day of school. Scott woke up to.
He teased me about taking so many pictures. I combed Will's hair and noticed how bad it needs trimmed. Then we all 3 headed out the door.
He teased me about taking so many pictures. I combed Will's hair and noticed how bad it needs trimmed. Then we all 3 headed out the door.
Walking down the sidewalk. My heart was throbbing. Don't cry was all I could think. If you cry, he is going to cry. We stood at the bus stop and made Will laugh. He was nervous about getting on. Then he saw a K-friend he had played tee-ball with. He was happy about that.
Then the big yellow bus pulled up. Funny how I never noticed before how huge and intimidating the bus is. We kissed him. Told him we loved him. And he got on the bus. He smiled and waved. We smiled and waved.
The bus drove off and we turned to walk back to the house. And I lost it. Cried and cried. Scott looked at me and said "what the heck is wrong with you?" "My baby just got on a bus!" He.....laughed. "He will be fine." I know that. I know he will have fun and learn and play. But it doesn't make this part any easier. The part where I realize that really he isn't ALL mine. He will grow up. He has his own thoughts and feelings. Each day I am needed a little differently than I was the day before. He gets older and my role is changing. Ever so slightly, but enough for me to take notice. This is the part where entrusting him to God's care is real. I pray and know that God will have his hand even when I cannot. And because I believe that it makes this part a little easier. A little sweeter knowing that His eye is always upon my William. But he will always be my baby....as I will tell him on his high school graduation....in front of all his friends....
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