The "Santa" Clause

"Have you taken Samara to get her picture taken with Santa yet?" When an acquaintance asked me that the other day, I had to make sure not to roll my eyes.  It never occurred to me that I'd have to reconsider my "no Santa" rule for Samara's FIRST Christmas at 8 months old.  Santa as our country portrays it has nothing to do with celebrating the birth of our Savior.  Yes, I've been called a Grinch more than one, but it isn't that I hate Christmas.  I hate Commercialismas.

The truth of the matter is, I think a very difficult part of motherhood is balancing it with all the growing commercialism of life.  Halloween was my first encounter - costumes and candy, originally centered around evil sprits on the eve of All Saints Day.  Never made any sense to me.  At one point, I heard someone say that Halloween is a time to dress up like anything you want - anything you've ever wished you were.  Now THAT is a fun idea to me, and I can "get" that.  But it is hard to undo myself of all of my "ways."

Enter Christmas.  And Christmas really is a hard holiday for me.  Ask my mother.  At least 2 Christmases, after receipt of my presents - of which there were many - I'd start to cry.  My parents were very understanding - never angry or yelling which is a good thing because I was never entirely sure why I was crying.  If I had to guess, I would say it is because I was not filled in any way by the gifts.  The gifts were great, but I think for me the anticipation of the day and the anticipation of how I thought those gifts would make me feel were never matched.

So as people line up at midnight the day after Thanksgiving, I admit, I'm a little disgusted.  When a colleague asked me if I'd gone shopping on Black Friday, I laughed and said, "No way, I'm not crazy.  I can't handle all of the hype." And seconds after I said it, I realized she may actually LIKE Black Friday, which turned out to be the case.  But rather than feel too embarrassed about my comment, I decided to get to the bottom of this - why does she do this?  She said it was a rush - that she felt she was in the moment...  I can't say that I understand THAT, but I do understand the "rush."

My "rush," for sure, is giving.  It must be.  I spend the entire YEAR thinking of things to get for people and then I insert my latest idea into the upcoming appropriate gift-giving occasion - Christmas, birthday, Mother/Father's Day.  I take my gift-giving seriously.  And it isn't that I need to get something "personal" as much as I want something useful. The last thing I want to do is give someone more junk, although I know many of my gifts have done exactly that - but then again, I never claimed to be perfect...  The rush I get is that someone gets something they need - I tell you, I HAVE cried at Price is Right when someone says they have a 20-year old car, and then they win a new one.  I also buy livestock each year for those in other countries, via World Vision.  And I'm working on getting people to donate to others, rather than give gifts to me.

I've yet to figure out what to do about Santa.  Because surely Santa IS about giving - he GIVES the gifts. I just don't like what our stores and the need for our economy to strengthen has done with a holiday around Jesus' birth.  I suppose as much as I guess Samara deserves to wake up and see what SHE's been given, I want her to be excited to see the faces of those to whom she gives.  So, "no" Samara is not going to get her picture taken with Santa this year.  When she asks, sure.   And on the way, we'll drop off donations at the local Goodwill, or bring canned food to a soup kitchen.  I never knew I'd have to sign onto Santa but since it seems I will, we might as well embrace the true meaning of Santa, and give.

Rats, Mosquitoes, and Teething

So my original idea for this post was that I would compare the purposeless nature of rats and mosquitoes with painful teething.  As my daughter screams her lungs out, very angry and upset, I wonder why God made the process so painful.  I thought a good comparison would be rats and mosquitoes, because what human can find use for them?  But upon a very cursory Google search, I found the answers to both inquiries within 30 seconds.

Rats are scavengers and are important to the animal kingdom, and well... we humans exploit their existence via scientific testing and our own personal gain.  So there goes THAT comparison.

Then, I looked up mosquitoes.  And though it took quite a while to get to their purpose, it seems that they pollenate some plants.  And well, I do believe in breathing oxygen and the more we cut down these darned plants, the less likely we are to be breathing oxygen (a joke, sort of!)

And in the same vein, I've had to find the purpose to painful teething at the seventh degree of separation.  It surely isn't the pain in my daughter's eyes that could serve the purpose.  Certainly my daughter has done nothing wrong and doesn't deserve this pain.  So maybe the pain is for me to suffer any wrong I've done.  But that theory is just ill-fitting.  I don't believe God has such a direct "tit for tat" nature.  Yet, maybe the pain is to test the parents and those around the child, to keep their cool.  It is, if you will, the taking off of the training wheels to up the anti when puberty and hormones strike.  Tim and I do have our moments when we disagree as to the method for calming our child and curing her pain.

But, after a particularly grueling night, during which I worked on my dissertation while she slept, and then unfortunately was called to "calming down baby" duty immediately upon lying in bed, I found the answer.  NOTE:  I said after a particularly grueling night.  This morning was a gift.  I know, corny, but it was.  She cried for almost 2 hours straight - 4am to 6am.  Finally, I got her to calm down and she and I laid in bed and, I feel, had a conversation.  She chewed on her toy, babbled, and cooed.  I tickled her a little bit and smothered her with kisses.  And she let me because she was exhausted.  She looked directly in my eyes and smiled her big, wide smile. We were both tired, but during that half hour, she let me know that she understood: it was not my fault that these teeth hurt.

Yet, who knows.  Tonight, she may scream and cry and look at me as if to say, "Why?"  And for mornings like these, it may not make it better, but may at least cancel out.

Ode to the Mini in my Life

Almost eight months ago

I sat in the hospital bed

Awaiting a new being in my life

I knew parenthood would be different

I had heard it would be glorious

and I longed for all that you would teach me

For as I shape out a place for you in this life

and continue on my journey to be a healthy

Christian, wife, professional, student, artist and friend

I have learned many things

There is an enormous amount of things that can be done in only ten minutes

I know this because I boil each of your bottles for ten minutes

Hair, laundry, makeup, reading you a book, packing lunch - each task takes ten minutes or less

You love the sound of goofy words

What words are goofier than the names of our Country's states?

We focus on, and sing about, a new one each day - today was Mississippi - doesn't get any sillier!

If I need to relax during a day of stress

I literally need only think of your smile

And like the Energizer Bunny, I'm ready to keep on keeping on

The best sound a car ride has to offer

Is the sound of you babbling to your toy octopus

I do not listen to the radio - you're the best radio personality I know!

Your eyes are the most amazing part of your body

I can transfer trust to you, just by gazing at you,

and when I watch your eyes, I can see all that you learn about the world around you

And while many others mark down every baby's milestone

I can't quite seem to pinpoint the MOST important one

because each day you grow more amazing in my sight 

I am told I will miss you at this age

that I should track everything so I will have great memories

But the best memories are those I make each moment with you as you learn and grow

It isn't so much that I have made you the center of my life

Instead, you made a way to the center of my heart

and there you'll always be

Resonance

The context in which the events that occurred this past Saturday are indeed ironic, and of course, tragic.  First, it was September 11 - a day where senseless killing is felt throughout America.  Second, it was the day after World Suicide Prevention Day. Third, while the events occurred, I was at a fundraiser for the York County Suicide Prevention Coalition.  And so, as an adult and close friend of the couple thought to be victims of a murder-suicide, I am finding it hard to cope.

Yet the significance of this event, and the trouble I find in "making it through," resonates deeper.  I have worked with children who live in challenging environments for eight years (I HATE the phrases "inner-city" or "at-risk" but feel free to insert said phrases if it helps in understanding).  And as I work with these children, race, teacher-quality, resource-availability, infrastructure, politics, and power are the hot topics that emerge as the reasons for why our public schools do not deliver an equitable education throughout our nation.

Do me a favor: sit down and ASK a child where "the system" (any system, because there are many) failed them. A majority of children will identify a traumatic circumstance in their life as the point where they went off-track.  Certainly children from all socio-economic circumstances experience trauma.  And it isn't necessarily the trauma itself that is the problem, but the follow-through.  Most children I talk with (and these are youth who are truant or have dropped out) identify the loss of a friend or relative to violence as the time where they lost interest in and control of their lives.  But without counseling and consideration of these children's circumstances, youth learn to cope in their own ways.  So while some children work through their loss in therapy, many of our youth continue to attend school with nary a mention of their loss.  In fact, when their anger and confusion finally breaks through and they act out, they are labelled as "failing," "at-risk," "troubled," "challenging," "a danger," "a problem child," "different," "a bad influence," [INSERT HERE]; they are placed in an alternative education setting, and learn to believe these labels.  Why not do as your told?

And my point is this: for any of these children who have experienced a loss due to violence I simply cannot imagine what life is like.  Period.  Going through this, as I mentioned, as an adult and as a friend who has pretty well-tuned coping skills, is one thing.  But to be the relative of a murder/suicide victim is absolutely incomprehensible to me.  The whys of the murder, the whys of the suicide, they whys of life could - in all honesty - easily put me on a path to self-destruction.  So what was once a black-and-white text book concept, will resonate blood-red with me for a lifetime.

Thank You

It is very important to me, Clare, to thank you for everything that you did.  As I write this, I am still getting used to the fact that I will never hear your sweet voice - or better yet, your lovely laugh - in my ear, ever again.  But I write this post as if you could hear me.  You, sweet Clare, gave me so much inspiration to even BE a mother.   While I knew you, Tim and I were not parents.  I met, and took care of, your sweet Rayleigh and Ramsey.  You were a mom who endured law school and law firm interivews, and it seems, you were a mom who endured much more than I ever knew.  But all I know is that you were a woman who took your motherhood with such grace and love.  Aside from my own mother, you have been the most inspiring mother to me.  Your patience and love and humor with your children did not go unnoticed.  I cannot believe that I have lost you.  I cannot believe I will never see you or hear your voice again.  I am so saddened and disheartened.  I am so confused.  Sweet Erin, Kathryn, Rayleigh, Ramsey, and Ryan - I am so very sorry.  Your mother and her patience, I feel, gave Samara a much better mother.  You had a diamond in the rough.  Your mother is SO missed and SO loved.  Thank you, Clare.  God, I know you have a purpose.

The One Thing

Service is the rent we pay for being. It is the very purpose of life, and not something you do in your spare time. 
- Marian Wright Edelman


It's been a long while since I've written.  It isn't that I haven't had anything about which to write, necessairly, but I felt that I'd either already written about it or somebody else had.


In 11 days I am hosting a coutywide effort focusing on truancy that expects an attendance of 500 people.  Though I am receiving an abundance of help, I am the "mastermind" responsible for it all.  In other words, if something goes wrong, it is my fault.  Yet, even with that pressure - to the point where I wake up at 2:30am thinking about something I should do to make it better - I dedicated a completely free schedule to a Day of Action with United Way of York.  First, United Way of York is helping to fund said-Summit so I feel that I should give back, but I believe, in every fiber of my being, in the quote that begins this blog.  


So I sacrified a potential nine-hours of planning during which I could have caught up and would not be so far behind in my work, to push a lovely 91-year-old woman around the York Fair and to organize books for the York County Literacy Council book fair.


While I was organizing these books I asked a woman with whom I was volunteering whether she often volunteered with the York County Literacy Council.  She seemed amazed at my question and answered that she had a son who was a senior and a son who was a 7th grader.  She did not have time, she said.  Their sports schedules were so time-consuming there was hardly time for anything else.  Another volunteer heard this and chimed in that she remembered when her boys were young - all the games and the practices and the time dedicated to driving and watching said games, etc.


As I continued to listen I decided that I would never let Samara's activities - or mine or Tim's for that matter - stop me from giving back to my community.  Thinking back, I know I danced  A LOT when I was young, but I do not think I let it stop me from giving back (Mom, correct me if I'm wrong.)  If anything, it would be great family times.  And this revelation has answered a question I've been asking myself for many weeks.  My daughter - like all children her age - is a sponge.  So everyday I ask myself, what is the one thing I would want to teach this "sponge" and how do I do it?  How do you teach the mindset that if you have a dollar and you're not really that thirsty, buying lemonade for a person who hasn't had a drink since the day before is a better investment?  Better yet, teach her to invest in an organization that teaches people how to MAKE lemonade.  And as many wise folk will tell you, lead by example - that is the best way to teach.  


So I will take Samara to my weekend fundraisers - like the fundraisers we have scheduled to attend tomorrow.  We will volunteer as tutors and painters and helpers and whatevers at the agencies who serve the folks who need us.  I will teach her that because I invest time and money into her interests (whatever they may be) I ask that she give back to the community that I know needs our help and attention.  We will because that is what life is about.  So I won't wait for spare time to knock on my door because it won't.  Other to-do items will always exist.  It is the making of the time because- AGAIN - that is what life is about.  That is the legacy I hope to leave.

"Wallowing" is Such Sweet Sorrow

Wallowing in sorrow is not productive. I rarely allow myself to do it because it can suck the energy right out of me.  These days, that energy is very valuable.  I write tonight, however, to wallow.  Quite frankly, I’m sick of it all.  I love my family and I love my job.  I wish my life was just my family and my job.  With a dissertation hanging over my head, I do not often feel justified in the ways in which I spend my time when it isn’t writing the darned thing.  I miss reading a book for pleasure.  I do not remember the last book I read – this is very sad to me.  I miss waking up on a Saturday morning and having nothing on my agenda.  These days even if I do take a day off to actually spend with my family, I feel guilty the entire time.  I miss feeling good and satisfied about the decisions I make. 

On the other hand, the last time I was not in school was in the summer of 2004 – six years ago.  I guess I don’t even know the things I miss.  I don’t really remember what it is like to have hobbies in which you can invest time.  I couldn’t tell you the last time I went bowling or to the movies.  Well, actually, the last movie I went to in the theatre was in 2005…  I think overall, I wish I would actually have the time and energy to follow through with the things that are important to me. 

I am paying a lot for this dissertation of mine.  I can’t tell you much of what I’m learning, although arguably a dissertation is not an educational experience as much as it is a test of what has already been learned.  But today I can tell you what it costs me – full satisfaction; time to spend with my family; my own growth in spiritual and recreational matters; the ability to more adequately give back to my community.  I am often commended for this journey, but right now I hate it.  And like fizz that has been contained in a seltzer bottle for months if not years, I am releasing this negativity. 

I do hope to finish what I started.  I think that people would say it is good for Samara to have an example of a strong, dedicated mother who sticks to her commitments and doesn’t quit.  Yet I find myself asking whether it is wise to advocate to your child the act of sticking to something that isn’t satisfying – sounds more like idiotic stubbornness to me.