These last few weeks of school are hectic. Instead of winding down, we are ramping UP, practicing The Three Brown Bears play, learning songs and fingerplays for the Spring Sing and Family Night. I aslo have forty-five progress reports with narratives to do.
We attended the oldest grandson's senior awards ceremony last night. While we are very proud of him and his accomplishments, it was a long two and half hours that could have been spent doing what needs to be done.
Sometimes in my hurry up world I forget to appreciate the little things. Today my three year old granddaughter came over and saw me wearing pink.
"I LOVE pink, Nana. I love pink flowers, Nana."
"I love you", I said as I hurriedly printed and cut photos of my students and their mothers for a school project. Then it occured to me, my family is important too. I received pink flowers for Mother's Day and what better moment to PAUSE, slow my body, my mind, and take a picture with Nicole and her favorite flowers. It made her happy, and when she saw her photo on my blog she was ecstatic.
The little things in life really do mean a lot.
I live in St. Louis, MO, but my heart and soul hang out at the beach. I am a multi-genre, award winning writer, and speaker. I am a seasoned pre-k teacher, on line writing instructor, wife, mother, Nana to thirteen. Hopefully, something I say will make you smile, further your writing career, or inspire you to write from the heart, too. billin7@yahoo.com.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Sunday, May 8, 2011
A mother can wish, can't she?
Regardless of age, it isn't easy being the mom and it isn't easy being the kid. The roles reverse as we age. The burdens shift from our shoulders to our childrens'. At some point we parent our parents and worry about them the way they worried about us.
Some moms are feeding and diapering their babies today, and some moms are feeding and diapering their mothers. Life comes full circle. God bless all of you mothers today.
I dreamed her into being. I knew her since I was a little girl. She was a mover and a shaker, high strung in utero, always jabbing and kicking, and I swear she came out with her dukes up. She's always been a get-it-done, do-it-my-own-way kind of girl. She has been successful in all she sets her mind to and she amazes me at her stamina and determination. I am so very proud of her.
I wish I had been less controlling and more patient through the years. If only I could go back and do it again. Now, I know. Then, I was learning ... and oh the mistakes I made.
I cannot explain the euphoria I felt after giving birth to my daughter almost forty-one years ago in an army hospital in Fairbanks, Alaska. I felt the way a mountain climber must feel when she reaches the summit after a long, hard climb. The reward was nothing short of miraculous. The nurses warned us that our newborns would sleep twenty-hours a day. They lied. My baby slept twenty-minutes at a time.
I would look at her tiny, perfect face, blue eyes and little hands and I'd cry. She was mine all mine, my dream come true. I shed a lot of tears those first few weeks and also as the years went by. Tears of joy, pride, frustration, anger, sorrow, heartbreak, forgiveness. I wish I had been more understanding, patient and less controlling. I only wanted the best for her. There are so many things I wish I could go back and change -about myself -not her. She has a heart of gold and will help anyone. She is a good and beautiful person.
I dreamed him into being. I knew him since I was a little girl. I worried that if he were a boy, I wouldn't know how to parent him. I was used to being mom to a girl. How would I care for a boy?
He was a slow mover, he rolled in utero, gently swayed, made his way into the world and has continued in his mild-manner for the past 37 years. The euphoria I felt when I first looked at him made my heart swell bigger than my belly. He was not my son OR my daughter; he was my BABY, and when I held him and looked at him, I cried. Over the years I cried tears of joy, pride, frustration, sorrow, heartbreak, forgiveness.
I wish I had been more understanding, patient and less controlling. I only wanted the best for him. There are so many things (one in particular) I wish I could go back and change -about myself -not him. I wish I could take back my mistakes, my regrets. He has so much love and forgiveness in his heart. He is a good and beautiful person. I am so proud of him. He has a good and beautiful wife. I wish I could have been her mother!
I wish for my children the patience and understanding that only comes with time and shows up when you truly believe your parental duties and responsibilities are finally over. It is about that time that your children present you with grandchildren, and suddenly you DO have the patience and understanding with their children that you didn't have with them.
I wish my daughter and son would quit saying, "Why weren't you that way when I was little?" or "Nana never let ME do that!"
I dreamed them into being, I knew them since I was a little girl. I did not have a hand in rearing them, but my stepdaughters are also my pride and joy.
Ever since I can remember wanting to be a mommy, my heart's desire was for three girls and a boy. I now have three daughters and a son; in marrying their dad, my wish came true. They are good and beautiful people. I am proud to be their stepmom.
I wish and pray that they all have good lives, good health, and goodness in their hearts for all the rest of their days.
I wish that today, the angels in heaven will give my mom a special hug from me and my children and their children. God bless all of our moms. In my childrens' hearts and eyes and expressions and attitudes, I see myself and my mother, and for that, I am grateful.
Some moms are feeding and diapering their babies today, and some moms are feeding and diapering their mothers. Life comes full circle. God bless all of you mothers today.
I dreamed her into being. I knew her since I was a little girl. She was a mover and a shaker, high strung in utero, always jabbing and kicking, and I swear she came out with her dukes up. She's always been a get-it-done, do-it-my-own-way kind of girl. She has been successful in all she sets her mind to and she amazes me at her stamina and determination. I am so very proud of her.
I wish I had been less controlling and more patient through the years. If only I could go back and do it again. Now, I know. Then, I was learning ... and oh the mistakes I made.
I cannot explain the euphoria I felt after giving birth to my daughter almost forty-one years ago in an army hospital in Fairbanks, Alaska. I felt the way a mountain climber must feel when she reaches the summit after a long, hard climb. The reward was nothing short of miraculous. The nurses warned us that our newborns would sleep twenty-hours a day. They lied. My baby slept twenty-minutes at a time.
I would look at her tiny, perfect face, blue eyes and little hands and I'd cry. She was mine all mine, my dream come true. I shed a lot of tears those first few weeks and also as the years went by. Tears of joy, pride, frustration, anger, sorrow, heartbreak, forgiveness. I wish I had been more understanding, patient and less controlling. I only wanted the best for her. There are so many things I wish I could go back and change -about myself -not her. She has a heart of gold and will help anyone. She is a good and beautiful person.
I dreamed him into being. I knew him since I was a little girl. I worried that if he were a boy, I wouldn't know how to parent him. I was used to being mom to a girl. How would I care for a boy?
He was a slow mover, he rolled in utero, gently swayed, made his way into the world and has continued in his mild-manner for the past 37 years. The euphoria I felt when I first looked at him made my heart swell bigger than my belly. He was not my son OR my daughter; he was my BABY, and when I held him and looked at him, I cried. Over the years I cried tears of joy, pride, frustration, sorrow, heartbreak, forgiveness.
I wish I had been more understanding, patient and less controlling. I only wanted the best for him. There are so many things (one in particular) I wish I could go back and change -about myself -not him. I wish I could take back my mistakes, my regrets. He has so much love and forgiveness in his heart. He is a good and beautiful person. I am so proud of him. He has a good and beautiful wife. I wish I could have been her mother!
I wish for my children the patience and understanding that only comes with time and shows up when you truly believe your parental duties and responsibilities are finally over. It is about that time that your children present you with grandchildren, and suddenly you DO have the patience and understanding with their children that you didn't have with them.
I wish my daughter and son would quit saying, "Why weren't you that way when I was little?" or "Nana never let ME do that!"
I dreamed them into being, I knew them since I was a little girl. I did not have a hand in rearing them, but my stepdaughters are also my pride and joy.
Ever since I can remember wanting to be a mommy, my heart's desire was for three girls and a boy. I now have three daughters and a son; in marrying their dad, my wish came true. They are good and beautiful people. I am proud to be their stepmom.
I wish and pray that they all have good lives, good health, and goodness in their hearts for all the rest of their days.
I wish that today, the angels in heaven will give my mom a special hug from me and my children and their children. God bless all of our moms. In my childrens' hearts and eyes and expressions and attitudes, I see myself and my mother, and for that, I am grateful.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Suck it up!
Yesterday I had a "tea party" for all of our mommies at preschool. The kids drew pictures of their mothers and told candid stories about them. Those little darlings think their mamas are 13, 75, 21. They tell all of the family secrets, "My mama sleeps in the same bed as my daddy. She yells loud as a lion and she tells my dad and ME what to do." They explain why mama chose their daddy and give details about the wedding. "He was walking down the street and she liked his strong muscles. He smiled at her and looked nice. She calls him hunky boy and tells him to clean the floors."
Almost all of them say, "She got married fifty years ago (or last week) but I was in my mama's tummy then." The mother's all need tissues to wipe away the tears from laughing so hard; a few actually cry. These are precious mementos, and I have seen them framed and on display in former student's homes decades later.
So the party went well until the very end. I had to dress up because I was headed to a wedding right after school. I usually wear pants and flats to school, but I wore a black skirt and silky blouse and heels. I knew I couldn't suck in the belly for a long period as I was standing before the class addressing the mothers. The control top panty hose had about as much control as the mamas over their kid's secret-telling. So I scrunched my gut into an old fashioned girdle that looks like a belly band with about a dozen strategically positioned foot-long stays that allow me to giggle without the jiggle. I know these days Spanx are the in thing, but I figured I could endure the misery for a few hours. Just before dismissal, I bent to pick something up and my girdle unfurled, it rolled one way and my belly fat escaped like a muffin top the other way. I darted to the bathroom and removed the damned thing, and finally breathed a sigh of relief. Forget wearing that torture device to the wedding. Those people know me and my flab personally. I was happy to be unconstricted. I rolled that girdle jelly roll-fashion, folded it in half and shoved in under my blouse and into my purse. I thanked all the moms for coming and as the last mom was leaving I kicked off my heels and slipped into my flats. I tossed my shoes into my purse and almost screamed when that damned girlde popped up like a ghostly Jack in the box. She looked at my purse, and then at me. I looked at my purse and then at her. She graciously said, "Well, let me give you a hug and thank you for everything." Believe me, I wanted to thank her for not mentioning what she'd just witnessed.
Normally I would blow this sort of thing off, but this woman is a well known reporter on a local station. I am so afraid to turn on the news this morning and hear her editorial commentary.
Off to a graduation so I'm going to miss the news. If you all hear anything about a teacher with an escaping girdle, don't tell me.
Almost all of them say, "She got married fifty years ago (or last week) but I was in my mama's tummy then." The mother's all need tissues to wipe away the tears from laughing so hard; a few actually cry. These are precious mementos, and I have seen them framed and on display in former student's homes decades later.
So the party went well until the very end. I had to dress up because I was headed to a wedding right after school. I usually wear pants and flats to school, but I wore a black skirt and silky blouse and heels. I knew I couldn't suck in the belly for a long period as I was standing before the class addressing the mothers. The control top panty hose had about as much control as the mamas over their kid's secret-telling. So I scrunched my gut into an old fashioned girdle that looks like a belly band with about a dozen strategically positioned foot-long stays that allow me to giggle without the jiggle. I know these days Spanx are the in thing, but I figured I could endure the misery for a few hours. Just before dismissal, I bent to pick something up and my girdle unfurled, it rolled one way and my belly fat escaped like a muffin top the other way. I darted to the bathroom and removed the damned thing, and finally breathed a sigh of relief. Forget wearing that torture device to the wedding. Those people know me and my flab personally. I was happy to be unconstricted. I rolled that girdle jelly roll-fashion, folded it in half and shoved in under my blouse and into my purse. I thanked all the moms for coming and as the last mom was leaving I kicked off my heels and slipped into my flats. I tossed my shoes into my purse and almost screamed when that damned girlde popped up like a ghostly Jack in the box. She looked at my purse, and then at me. I looked at my purse and then at her. She graciously said, "Well, let me give you a hug and thank you for everything." Believe me, I wanted to thank her for not mentioning what she'd just witnessed.
Normally I would blow this sort of thing off, but this woman is a well known reporter on a local station. I am so afraid to turn on the news this morning and hear her editorial commentary.
Off to a graduation so I'm going to miss the news. If you all hear anything about a teacher with an escaping girdle, don't tell me.
Friday, May 6, 2011
A little bit of magic for kids of all ages
I am taking my students on a field trip soon to The Magic House, a unique children's museum which originated in a three story, old Victorian house in Kirkwood, MO. My first grandchild always ended up in the attic with period furnishings, playing dress ups. I could hardly coax her to the other areas.
They have added on, and now there are so many wings, and things to do for people of all ages. It has quadrupled in size. Can you imagine a child-sized, fully stocked grocery store with pretend food and cash registers? A bank with vault? A T.V. station where your child can broadcast the news and be on T.V.? A pizza parlor where your kids can cook up and serve slices of pretend but realistic looking pizza? A music room? A fishing pond where you can see the little wooden fish you caught in the pond float (under clear acrylic glass on the floor) downstream and back home? There is a water play room, a sand table, baby and toddler area, three story slide, tons of educational stuff for older kids, science, exploration.
One of my favorites is the rainbow and shadow wall. As you dance and sway, your images are captured in rainbow colors on a blank wall; it is fluid movement, a delightful experience. The shadow wall is as it sounds. You jump and strike a pose and a camera snaps your picture and displays your shadow as you are suspended in air. I could play there all day.
One year my mother accompanied me and my class. At the end of our tour and play time, they had story time. The story was about a baby bunny. They brought out a baby bunny for the children to pet. They placed that cute little fur ball into my mom's hands and asked her to walk around with it so each child could stroke its fur. The rabbit bailed, hopped right out of Mom's hands and as she bent down to pick it up, the bunny hopped. Mom would hop after it, and just as she was about to grab it, that little critter would take off again, hop-hop-hop, then Mom would bend over and hop-hop-hop all over the room. The kids were laughing themselves silly, and admittedly, so was I. That is one of my most fun memories of this field trip which I have been taking students on for over thirty years.
If you live in town or are just visiting, this is one of the most unique children's museums I have ever been to. Plan to spend the day.
They have added on, and now there are so many wings, and things to do for people of all ages. It has quadrupled in size. Can you imagine a child-sized, fully stocked grocery store with pretend food and cash registers? A bank with vault? A T.V. station where your child can broadcast the news and be on T.V.? A pizza parlor where your kids can cook up and serve slices of pretend but realistic looking pizza? A music room? A fishing pond where you can see the little wooden fish you caught in the pond float (under clear acrylic glass on the floor) downstream and back home? There is a water play room, a sand table, baby and toddler area, three story slide, tons of educational stuff for older kids, science, exploration.
One of my favorites is the rainbow and shadow wall. As you dance and sway, your images are captured in rainbow colors on a blank wall; it is fluid movement, a delightful experience. The shadow wall is as it sounds. You jump and strike a pose and a camera snaps your picture and displays your shadow as you are suspended in air. I could play there all day.
One year my mother accompanied me and my class. At the end of our tour and play time, they had story time. The story was about a baby bunny. They brought out a baby bunny for the children to pet. They placed that cute little fur ball into my mom's hands and asked her to walk around with it so each child could stroke its fur. The rabbit bailed, hopped right out of Mom's hands and as she bent down to pick it up, the bunny hopped. Mom would hop after it, and just as she was about to grab it, that little critter would take off again, hop-hop-hop, then Mom would bend over and hop-hop-hop all over the room. The kids were laughing themselves silly, and admittedly, so was I. That is one of my most fun memories of this field trip which I have been taking students on for over thirty years.
If you live in town or are just visiting, this is one of the most unique children's museums I have ever been to. Plan to spend the day.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
An acceptance
Toot-toot! I received an acceptance on my poem, Army Wives, from Silver Boomer Books. It will appear in their newest anthology, The Harsh and the Heart--Patriots Dream to be released in August 2011.
Everyone knows the sacrifices a soldier makes, but many don't realize the sacrifices (and friendships) their spouses make. This poem is very special to me as it is about my best friend who has dementia. We met as army wives and newlyweds, forty-two years ago.
Check out Silver Boomer Books. They have a list of possible upcoming titles. I have been published in four of the Silver Boomer Anthologies. They just keep getting better. The page layout is unique. There are quotes that scroll across the bottom of each page and continue from first to last page. The quotes are as much fun to read as the prose and poetry. Do check out the Silver Boomer Books.
Everyone knows the sacrifices a soldier makes, but many don't realize the sacrifices (and friendships) their spouses make. This poem is very special to me as it is about my best friend who has dementia. We met as army wives and newlyweds, forty-two years ago.
Check out Silver Boomer Books. They have a list of possible upcoming titles. I have been published in four of the Silver Boomer Anthologies. They just keep getting better. The page layout is unique. There are quotes that scroll across the bottom of each page and continue from first to last page. The quotes are as much fun to read as the prose and poetry. Do check out the Silver Boomer Books.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Overload
What a week this is going to be. Pardon me if I don't post for a few days, although I will try. Tonight I have a poetry meeting half an hour away. Wednesday after school I have to set up 100 chairs for a school event. If you're wondering why a custodian isn't doing it, well, that's a long story. The event normally held in a gymnasium has been moved to MY VERY LARGE CLASSROOM. In the evening we have a funeral visitation for son-in-law's dad, who was the father of twelve, and Thursday is the funeral. Friday morning AND afternoon, Mom's Tea Party and performance at preschool. A family wedding at 5:00 p.m. an hour away. Saturday is Bill's daughter's graduation (Special Education teacher) and we have to be there at 7:30 a.m., Saturday afternoon a grad party, and Sunday another event, oh yeah, Mother's Day.
Yeah, I've learned two things not to say, "What next?!" and "Wish we had something to do."
Yeah, I've learned two things not to say, "What next?!" and "Wish we had something to do."
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Making Messes
Yipee! After a very long dry spell, I did the happy dance when I received a contract last evening from Whispering Angel Books. My dog poem will be published in Nurturing Paws, an anthology.
************************************************************************************************
This poem about me, not my dog, was published a few years ago. Things haven't gotten any better. I still get more ON me than in me.
MAKING MESSES ©
Linda O’Connell
When my children called me mommy
I was always cleaning up,
washing faces, wiping noses
and things they spilled from cups.
Couldn’t take them out to eat
without a spill or two.
Stains on shirts, forks on floors.
Then - they grew, and grew, and grew.
Now they take ME out to eat,
and it’s different than before.
I’m forever spilling things
on the table or the floor.
I cannot eat spaghetti
or anything with sauce.
It splatters down the front of me.
My shirt’s a total loss.
When I eat an ice cream cone
It drips and makes a mess.
I can’t lick it fast enough
you should see my fancy dress.
“Use your napkin, wipe your mouth,
There’s something on your face.”
My kids are saying that to ME,
and it’s really not their place.
I dropped my fork the other day
and my daughter shook her head.
My son had to pick it up for me,
because bending down I dread.
My clothes get stained and messy.
I change shirts twice a day.
I never ever imagined
My life would get this way.
I’m still cleaning up the messes
It seems like all the time,
drips and spills, spots and stains.
But now every mess is mine.
************************************************************************************************
This poem about me, not my dog, was published a few years ago. Things haven't gotten any better. I still get more ON me than in me.
MAKING MESSES ©
Linda O’Connell
When my children called me mommy
I was always cleaning up,
washing faces, wiping noses
and things they spilled from cups.
Couldn’t take them out to eat
without a spill or two.
Stains on shirts, forks on floors.
Then - they grew, and grew, and grew.
Now they take ME out to eat,
and it’s different than before.
I’m forever spilling things
on the table or the floor.
I cannot eat spaghetti
or anything with sauce.
It splatters down the front of me.
My shirt’s a total loss.
When I eat an ice cream cone
It drips and makes a mess.
I can’t lick it fast enough
you should see my fancy dress.
“Use your napkin, wipe your mouth,
There’s something on your face.”
My kids are saying that to ME,
and it’s really not their place.
I dropped my fork the other day
and my daughter shook her head.
My son had to pick it up for me,
because bending down I dread.
My clothes get stained and messy.
I change shirts twice a day.
I never ever imagined
My life would get this way.
I’m still cleaning up the messes
It seems like all the time,
drips and spills, spots and stains.
But now every mess is mine.
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