I actually wrote this last summer, but it's still relevant. Even more so now that my son has turned 18.

I have spent a lot of time recently contemplating my family. For almost twenty years our lives have revolved around raising  children. It's been chock full of play dates, trips to the park, story time at the library, school projects, school activities and more. 

Our oldest was an "only child" for two years before he became older brother. Then came baby sister and a gap of four years followed by two more sisters. For 15 years my son has held the title of Big brother, the first born, the oldest, etc.

Our second child, Baby sister at the time, had the distinction of being the youngest and then became Big sister along with the dubious distinction of Middle child. For about two years. Then she became Oldest sister. 

The next sister, our third, was just Baby sister until the last baby arrived. Then she became what I call middle of the middles. She shares being a middle sister with her older sister but she's also the middle child of the girls. This proves to be a troublesome spot at times. 

And then there's the baby of the family. And she is the stereotypical baby of the family who will probably never hold the esteemed title of big sister. (I never say never!) Or Middle child. If I have any say, she will always be the youngest. 

This is our family dynamic. It has been fascinating watching them grow and evolve into the adults they will become. While they are each individuals they have similarities that transcend genetics. The oldest and youngest of the girls have very similar personalities. They also look most alike. Their personalities seem to dictate how they relate to each other and get along.

The stages in their lives affect how they treat each other. I have watched each child go through similar stages in life. Some of them are not so pleasant, so when an older one complains about a younger one, I simply say, "welcome to my world. That is how you used to act and now you know how it feels on the other side." This usually results in a hug and apology. 

Over the years the schools have changed. The friends and activities have changed. But we're still the same family, in the same home, for the past nineteen years. The youngest hasn't known any other reality. And probably the middle girl as well since she was displaced as the youngest as a mere two-year old. 

But it hit me hard this past summer that time is swiftly passing and my children are quickly growing up. It really is true that time passes in the blink of an eye. I clearly remember sitting and playing with my baby son on the floor when he was about six months old. I tried to imagine what he would be like a in a year, five years,  or as an adult. I couldn't do it. I couldn't even imagine where we would be five years into the future when he would start school for the first time.  

And now...now he's a senior in high school. His school journey is almost at and end. I'm so very proud of the young man he has grown to be. Was it nature or nurture? Who really knows but betwixt and between the two he's growing up and becoming his own person. In less than a year he will be what society considers an adult despite the fact his frontal lobe isn't quite fully developed. And on the flip side it's the last year I will have a child in the single digits. 

For so many years there's always been one coming up behind. For example, I love Kindergarten! And after each of my kids "graduated" I knew I could relive the excitement again. Until the last kid. Everything Baby sister does is the last time I'll experience that cycle of life in my children. The last new baby. The last story time at the library. The last baby I'll push in a stroller. The last potty training (hallelujah on that one!!!) The last preschool. The last Kindergarten. Now that was hard. And for the last twelve years I've had at least one in elementary school but even that is drawing to a close. Less than two years left. 

The years have silently slid by as we've given away outgrown clothes and toys, passed bikes down, and charted each new back to school and birthday signaling the passing of time. And truly it feels like the blink of an eye. 

Since our oldest is a senior we've begun having discussions about future plans. As with many families, the plan would be for him to go away to school. I get excited for him and all the events that comprise senior year. I get excited thinking about getting ready for a dorm room. But then ... then what will I do without my buddy every day? We're somewhat kindred spirits and we "get" each other in a way the rest of the family just doesn't. When one of us has had enough of life at the moment, we can look at the other and just know the feelings being experienced. A small hug full of understanding goes a long way. 

It seems to me just when you start rebuilding the relationship after the tenuous teen years, they up and move away. And even if they don't go away they are still becoming more independent and doing their own thing. The small nucleus my husband and I have grown and fostered is about to be split open and disbursed into the universe. One day, not too long from now, our cozy family of six will only be five in the home as our oldest spreads his wings and takes flight. We will of course always be a family of six no matter where we scatter as they grow up and move away. 

Just this past weekend we took a trip to the amusement park. The boy doesn't like them so he stayed home. At one point in the day we stopped to get some waters and make a pit stop. Some stayed with me and a couple went with dad to the restroom. I ordered six bottles of water. Six. We were a party of five that day but I automatically ordered six. Plus, I'm always counting head,s and honestly it felt like something was missing all day long. It's so hard to imagine them all grown up one day with just my husband and me at home by ourselves again. But you know...blink of an eye and all that. 

At some point while discussing all this college stuff, the youngest realized her big brother buddy won't be around as much. He's pretty much the only one that can soothe her when she's gone round the bend. Her opinion is he just can't leave. Period. End of story. But he can. And he will one day. That's what he's supposed to do. That's what they're all supposed to do. I consider it an enormous blessing beyond measure to have these young people in my life and have a hand in helping them grow up. They are such fascinating people.

I hope my oldest daughter realizes the privilege of having him close to her. Their relationship has grown from pesky little sister getting him in trouble to a friendly and protective relationship. In a way the other two sisters miss out on having an older brother to forge the way and look out for them in high school. Instead Mia is the older sibling to Charlotte kind of forging the way and they have their own sisterly bond. I imagine (or hope) they will have a close relationship like that into high school as well. 

My prayer is that they grow up with a close enough relationship that they know they have someone to rely on especially after their parents are gone and that they are truly friends. But going back to the family dynamic, it dawned on me this morning that the youngest may get something the other three have not which is a time to be the "only" child and remember it. 

Assuming everyone moves out for college as they grow up, The youngest will be the only child left her junior and senior years of high school. Oh what opportunities that will behold for her!!! But then I think it will be kind of lonely as well. She's known no other life but as the youngest of four siblings. There's always someone to talk with, share with, commiserate with, and plot with. She's never had to go to sleep alone. Will that be a blessing or a curse? Time will tell. 

So much if my identity is wrapped up being a mother of four. I will always be this mother of four but they need me for less and in different ways as the grow up. It's amazing how different children from the same family can be. But even with the same parents, same home, same routines, and sometimes the same genetics each has a vastly different experience. Personalities and birth order play a huge part in how they are being shaped for their future roles as adults. I don't always know if I'm doing a good job, but sometimes I get a glimpse that maybe the kids will be all right despite my efforts. God goes before me, and if I can stay focused on that, then I'm off to a good start. 

I read somewhere that the days are long but the years are short. No truer words have ever spoken. 

Hot Summer Reading

As the end of school draws near, our attention is drawn to the local summer reading program sponsored by our local county library system. Each year there is a different theme, and the activities and prizes seem centered around the theme. This year it happens to be super heros. My girls aren't as interested in super heros, but it seems like a great theme that unites gender and generations, alike.

The library gave a presentation at my Littles elementary school in hopes of engaging the minds of the children over the summer. They have a bookmark contest in which the winning design is published and distributed throughout the county library system. The "runners up" are put on display, and my children enjoy looking for their submissions. Upon signing up for the summer program, the children receive "game boards" with activities and coupons they can redeem for prizes. They also receive coupons for local establishments, such as snowballs, fast food meals, petting zoos and the like. Sometimes they give out free baseball tickets to minor and major league games.

This past weekend was the annual summer reading program kick off hosted by the Miller Library in Ellicott City.  Normally, we visit the library near our house, which is within walking/biking distance and has a nice children's area. We spent a lot of time hanging out there when the Littles were small attending classes, perusing the books and videos and playing in the toy area. The Miller Library is much farther away and not convenient, so we haven't visited it before.

I'm glad we made the time to go to the kickoff celebration, although we missed some things, arriving in the last hour. Plus, it was really hot, so the Littles had no interest in being outside; nor were they interested in the super-hero theme and fire trucks. My youngest did take the time to visit the seed-planting station, and we came home with a pot with a green bean, white bean, and purple bean seed planted. Most of the library employees/volunteers were extraordinarly friendly and helpful, despite the heat and number of people they encountered throughout the day. It was especially fun seeing the dads and daughters (and sons) dressed in matching super hero t-shirts and costumes! This truly seemed like a theme that encompassed entire families, instead of just being the "kids" program. Like I said, my kids aren't really into super heros, but they enjoyed the Enchanted Garden on the side, the face-painting inside, and we spent well over an hour searching for books and a couple of movies.

It's a beautiful library; large with a lot of amenities. The enchanted garden was very sweet with rocks, little ponds, various types of plants and benches. There's also a window seat in the children's section of the library that overlooks the garden. There's a gigantic meeting room just inside. They had a game room for teens that afternoon, although, I am unsure whether that's a permanent fixture or a special set up. The children's section is very large and open with myriad materials and plenty of computers for looking up books, playing games and the like. There are plenty of places to sit down and relax or snuggle with your own little and read a story.

The young adult section seemed large also, at least compared to our local branch. I think the one drawback to looking for materials that day was that since so many people visited, my Littles' favorite books were all checked out. On the upside, we can reserve them on-line and pick them up at our local branch. I love this feature!!! Another feature I love is the automated check outs. Our local branch has these as well, but as of last summer, they were only for checking out books and materials. At the Miller Branch you can pay fines as well! Hot diggity dog, because who doesn't collect fines from time to time? Despite the paper receipts, personal alarms on my phone, and email reminders, I have yet to come up with a system in which I routinely return things before their due date! And since we always seem to check out bagfuls of things at a time, the fines can add up rather quickly.

The Miller Branch also has an upstairs; however, we did not have an opportunity to make it up there this past weekend. Even though it's not convenient, I envision myself visiting the Miller branch to sit and read or even take my knitting for some quiet mom time to myself.

Watching my girls run around exploring and experiencing the library, it reminded me of my first experiences with the library when I was young. We did not visit the public library, as I recall, but my elementary school had a GIANT (or what seemed giant) library. Walls and walls of books. Dewey Decimal System Card Catalog. A friendly librarian. And did I mention the walls of books? My very first favorite book that I can remember from this library was Harold and the Purple Crayon. I'm surprised they let us read those, given some children's penchants for writing on the walls! Sometime later, I fell in love with the Laura Ingalls series, but I did not get those from the library. I remember learning how to use the card catalog and perusing the large dictionary and encyclopedias at different libraries over the years doing research for school projects and papers.

But it was at this elementary school library where I fell in love with Amelia Earhart. That's the first long chapter book I remember reading, and it really made an impression on me. So much so, that 40-some odd years later, it's still one of the treasured memories of my childhood. I can still picture taking the book off the self and reading it, not even bothering to sit down but standing right there in the middle of the library. Many times my teacher actually had to come over and personally get my attention because I was so lost in a book that I didn't hear the cues to line up to return to class. I probably checked that book out a million times. So, today, when I was reading over the MSN news page, an article on Amelia Earheart caught my eye, and some of these memories flooded back. And I am reminded of how much my children enjoy the library. At this point, I don't know if they love reading as much as I did back then, and still do, but I didn't have the distractions of electronics that they do now.

As a teenager, I lived at the library. I probably checked out and read almost every young adult fiction book they had, as well as many adult books. I spent hours researching for school projects and reading at the Stanley Memorial Library in Laurel, since we lived nearby and I could walk there. When I was younger, my mom was kind enough to swing by from time to time. Sadly, it was just torn down to make room for a new, up-to-date library. I was sad to see another childhood icon fall, as so many others have as I've aged, but time marches on. I'm sure a new batch of kids will grow up with wonderful memories of their own local library.

To be sure, my kids have had their favorite books over the years. The Magic Treehouse, Rainbow Fairies, My Dumb Diary, Junie B. Jones, Bad Kitty, Baby Mouse, 39 Clues, etc. I wonder if they will look back when they are older and remember their trips to the library with such fondness and recall their most favorite books. What will they remember about their school library? Will they remember how "BIG" their library was? Will they remember pulling out a favorite book and reading it standing right in the stacks? Unfortunately, they don't have a kind and wonderful librarian as I did, but I'm glad that my kids and I can share our love for the library. I'm glad we live in an area where we have so many libraries to visit, we can reserve books, and attend classes to learn about new things or meet up with our peers for clubs and activities. And it's all free!

I think towards the future and wonder what is in store for a brick and mortar library? There are no more card catalogs, not as much need for microfiche research, spending hours reading through encylopedias, or looking up maps in the atlas. A lot of what we did at the library can be done at home now on our personal computers. You don't even need to visit the library to borrow books, as there's an App for that! I use it all the time for print material and audiobooks I can listen to in the car using my smartphone. However, there is no replacing the experience of visiting a library in person, and there's no replacing the memories that have been made and can be made in a library.

Connections

As the anniversary of my mother’s death draws near, I have been pondering connections between people.  We are all connected to one another in some way, shape or form.  Over time connections are built, evolve and sometimes broken.  The connections I’ve been pondering recently aren’t necessarily the physical ones so much as more ethereal ones.

I have read a couple books that speak to this connection that in some people is highly sensitive. 

In the first book, Is This Tomorrow, by Caroline Leavitt, it was a connection between a sister and a brother.  In the story, a pre-teen boy goes missing one afternoon.  His sister is close to her brother’s best friend, and in one chapter she tells him that her brother is still alive as she can feel it.  Wouldn’t she just know if he had died?  She feels the connection between them is so strong that he couldn’t possibly die and she not know it.  Later in the book we learn that the brother had, in fact, died.  His spirit passed from one plane to the next, and there was no cosmic shattering of the earth or her own spirit at that time. The event simply happened in its own quietness and no one was the wiser for many years.

I am currently reading another book, this one an audio book called The Chaperone by Laura Moriarty.  This one takes place in the early 1920’s and go through the decades.  The portion I am reading now takes place in the ‘50s and 60s and mentioned getting a “feeling” when someone passes from this world to the next.  I can’t remember the exact context, but it reminded me of the Caroline Leavitt book, at which time my thoughts were brought back around to my mother.

As I read that, I got to wondering because I have read where other people have just felt it and knew when a loved one had passed on.  What makes this connection?  Is it a sense that some people just have and they can feel when someone they are close to, or anyone, passes?  Or does it just happen when it’s someone they have an extra special or close bond with?  Or is it a sense that anyone can have but that it just happens with an extraordinary bond with someone special?

I was thinking about this, because like the sister in the first book, I had no idea when my mother died.  And she lived a scant five miles from my home.  Nor when my brother or stepfather died, for that matter, although the physical and relational distance was greater with them.  I could assume, therefore, that I don’t have that kind of sense.  But I wonder that if, God forbid, something ever happened to one of my children would I know instantly, even if we are apart?  How could that earthly bond be broken and I remain unaware until notified?

When my mother passed, she was in poor health even though considered young, and I knew that it could happen anytime.  That said, no matter how near you think death is or how much you’ve tried to prepare yourself emotionally, it still comes as such a shock.  In this world of undo, redo, rewind and back ups, it’s hard to internalize that something is irretrievably gone from your life -- forever.  I was home on January 21, 2012 with three of my children on that Martin Luther King holiday, when the police came knocking on my door.  No, actually, they pounded on the door, startling all of us still in our pajamas.  I think it was around the ten o’clock hour or a little after.

The previous day my five-year-old had dialed 9-1-1 as a lark, so I thought they had come to follow up.  I opened the door and two officers came in.  One was very nervous and later I felt bad for him; a new officer delivering bad news – maybe his first bereavement notification.  As they stood there, with the veteran officer encouraging the newer one to speak up, my heart dropped.  It became all too clear this was not a follow up visit but that something dreadful had happened.  I suddenly feared something had happened to my husband.  It was a decidedly awkward moment as I stood there waiting -- in my pajamas, hair uncombed, teeth not brushed, in front of strangers -- and in my head I screamed “JUST TELL ME WHAT IT IS!”  But it was actually my mother, and the pain and the relief mingled together so tightly the feelings remain intertwined to this day. 

She had collapsed at her apartment building down the hall from her apartment.  Someone found her and called for help.  It's unclear how long she lay there before someone found her.  I don’t know if she died right there on the floor where she was found, in the ambulance on the way to the hospital or at the hospital where she had a DNR order.  The police actually didn’t have much information but stayed until my husband came home.  At this point, a lot of people say everything was a blur but not for me.  I still remember most of the details of that morning.  What I was wearing. Telling the girls to stay upstairs, even though they clearly knew something was going on and it wasn’t fun.  The phone call the police made on my behalf to my husband. The Grassroots crisis woman who came and tried to offer help.  My beautiful friend down the street who dropped everything and came over.  It’s all very clear, still.

What I also remember is looking at the clock and thinking back to what I was doing at “that” time.  I didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary.  I don’t recall looking at the clock when she supposedly passed and thinking anything out of the ordinary was happening.  I recalled the TV show we were watching. I recalled who was awake and who was still asleep and what each girl was doing.   Nothing felt broken or out of sorts.  In fact I was blissfully unaware that there was anything amiss.  How strange not to know when my physical connection to this earth was broken.  My reason for being, the person who carried me for ten months and pushed me into this world was no longer in it.  Isn’t that reason enough for me to feel something cataclysmic or have a sense that the world just tipped on its axis? 

It’s so black and white to think you can die and no one would even know until you are found.  It seems something should happen.  Someone should notice or feel or wonder what’s missing at that moment when you take your last breath.  Just one person.  But as when you are born, the only people who notice are the ones that are actually there.  It’s a small quiet moment, when you breathe your last, where only those present are in the know. 

So, going back to the connection.  What is it that some people have when they know something happens?  Can a person “make” it happen or is it just something inherently inside them?  Do I need to do something to create a bond SO strong with the people I love that I just KNOW when it is broken?  That it’s an earth-shattering moment on some plane even if we are apart? I am reminded of the tree analogy.  If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?  My mother’s death had absolutely no impact on my life until I was notified.  Then the pain and grief began.  I did not have a close, intimate relationship with my mother, although, I did love her.  I was glad to have been able to spend the three months with her and do the things I could to help her in what would turn out to be her last weeks.   

Martin Luther King Day will always be associated with her memories now.  My kids, while in the local public school, will always have a school holiday.  This first anniversary falls on a Tuesday, while the children’s school holiday is a Monday.  By some weird coincidence, the 21^st is also a school holiday, and I will most likely be home with my children.  Even though I did not have a clue at her moment of passing, I will be thinking of her that Tuesday coming up and remembering the previous January 21.  I will also be working on strengthening the bond with my children.  It may not change my “intuitions,” but it will certainly change the relationships I have with those I hold dear in a positive way.  And that, I think, is the most important connection of all.

Love Begets Love

I have a daily devotional book that I'm behind in reading.  It is written by women for women, and I highly recommend it.  This year's edition is called Renew.  I used to stress over the fact that I tend to run behind in my reading, but over time I have realized that sometimes the message was meant for a different day -- for me. 

Case in point:  Yesterday someone I thought was close to me treatly me in a less than humane way and I was feeling really bad.  I don't open up to people very easily, and it takes a long time to earn my trust and for me to feel comfortable being myself.  So, to allow myself to trust these people and then have them abuse me in this manner was exceptionally upsetting.  They questioned my honesty and integrity.  They said things that were utterly insulting and were very harsh in the delivery of their message.  They were closed-minded and unbending to anything but their own beliefs.  They used their superior education to belittle others.  To protect myself, I feel like I should just keep them at arms length.  I don't really trust them at this point.  It's sad to me that our relationship has deconstructed because they chose to be mean instead of treat us how any person deserves to be treated.

I was talking with a friend last night and she suggested that perhaps in time we could rebuild what we had.  I'm grumpy and don't even wish to have anything to do with them.  I really don't.  If this is how you are going to treat someone when you are upset, then I have no use for that.  What about the next time?  Or the next?  Should I set myself up to be treated badly every time they get upset about something in order to save a relationship?  Or should I just let this one go?  It's hard to know the difference.  My husband suggested I pray about it, because really there's nothing else that can be done.  Wise advice from him, especially. 

So, this morning I forced myself to eat some breakfast and open my book.  The message is actually from November 17 and entitled "Love Begets Love."  It talks about loving people who seem unlovable or are difficult to love.  It talks about how we act like we love people but we build walls so we don't get hurt.  It talks about how we're not giving but protecting.  Then it says that this isn't God's way of love.

Wow.  Think about it.  We surely don't deserve God's love.  How many times have we turned our backs on him, did the opposite of what was right, gone our own path and just didn't care?  He doesn't turn His back on us.  He simply and patiently waits for us to return on our own.  I'm glad I have a God with whom I can feel safe.  I can turn to Him in times of trouble and he will protect me and offer me comfort and shelter from any sort of storm.

But what lesson is this message for me?  My intent was to remain aloof and keep them at arm's length.  But is that what God would want me to do?  Is that forgiving?  There's a lot to think about.  I am very hurt and I don't expect an apology of any sort.  So what further action is expected of me?  Is it okay to just write them off and move on?  Can I continue to have just a perfunctory relationship with them?  I certainly can't return to the relationship we had and I don't want to them to think that they can treat me this way and sweep it under the rug.  I told them there was no reason to behave like this and they defended themselves, so clearly they didn't see anything wrong with their behavior.  Or perhaps they did and can't or won't admit it.  I don't know the answer to these questions just yet.

Like my husband said, it needs prayer.  In my head I know I need to forgive them and move on.  I can't figure out if this means trying to return to a similiar relationship or is it okay to keep things on the surface.  In my heart, it just hurts and wants to be shielded from future hurt.  It's like being cut with a knife.  Sure, the wound heals after time, but a scar always remains. 

Lord, show me the way.  Amen.

Fav Beach Picture

I'm entering a knitting contest and it asks for my fav. beach picture.  I think this must be it :)

Geography Lesson

I was hoping to get this down while the incident was fresh to capture the raw emotion at the time. 

I knew that being a parent wasn't always easy or all fun and games.  At the outset, I overly romanticized becoming and being a mother.  Dressing your baby in cute outfits, clever portraits, play dates, reading books at bedtime, watching your lovely little one in a school play or concert and sweet birthday parties are some of things we look forward to when we choose to start a family.  And those are the fun times we can all enjoy ... while they are small.

What I never really considered were the difficult issus of raising my children that can either cause me to want to pull out my hair or bring me to tears.  I cried when each of my children were placed in my arms for the first time. I cried when they were dedicated at church.  I cried when they started school.  All joyful times, but I also cried when they were sick and I couldn't help them.  I cried when they were hurt by another child.  I cried out of frustration over sleeping and potty training.  And now that they are growing older, we are trading small child issues with big kid issues.  I'm finding that it's so much easier to take care of a baby than to parent a tween and emerging teen.

Case in point:  (Oh how to choose just one!)  The Geography Bee. 

A few weeks ago, shortly after returning to school from winter break (or was it before going on winter break?), my oldest daughter came running home from school yelling about the geography bee.  When she had calmed down enough to adequately explain, I discovered that she was competing in the school's geography bee which is like a spelling bee only with geography questions instead of spelling words.  She and her younger sister had already turned down the spellling be because they don't care to stand up in front of people and "perform."

So, I was rather surprised that she had A. joined the geography bee in the first place and B. that she was so darn excited about the thing.  How it works is the students in the upper two grades are given a geography test of about 40 questions.  The students that answer a certain portion of questions correctly are then able to participate in the official geography bee.  My daughter claimed she only got one question correct on the test, but judging by the number of students that took the test vs. the proportion of students in the bee, I think she must have gotten more than one correct.

In any event, we were on our way.  She had a letter of congratulations and a sheet of links with which to help her study.  She took a half-hearted stab at studying the first couple of weeks.  To be honest, I was a little overwhelmed with the the information as it seemd so limitless.   I also didn't know the format of the bee.  I thought they would ask the students open-ended questions which would be difficult to answer.

I suggested my daughter ask the teachers in charge for some clarification on studying but she was too shy.  After a couple weeks she decided she wanted to quit.  This was the second child wanting to quit something in the middle.  In her defense, I think if her teacher asked did she want to be in the bee she'd say no.  She claimed they just expected the kids to be in it that passed the test.  I'm thinking she was probably given an opportunity to opt out which she missed due to not paying attention.  I considered her request and then told her she had to finish it out.  She was not happy.

Before we knew it, the bee was in two weeks. Lots of studying to be done.  Madison was getting really antsy about getting up in front of people and being embarasssed about not knowing an answer.  I tried to reassure her that the questions would be grade appropriate and not all the kids would know the answers.  She wouldn't be the only one not able to answer a question. I encouraged her to study as much as possible and just do the best she could. That was all that was expected of her.   These affirmations did little to reassure her, however.  I was feeling a bit guilty that I was causing her grief, but my general feeling is if you start something you should finish.  Even when it's more difficult on me to continue than let them quit.

Finally, the day arrived.  Madison was a complete nervous nelly, and I couldn't blame her.  I gave her hugs and affirmations and sent her on her way.  After she walked on the bus I had a bit of hindsight in that I should have prayed with her.  As it was, I prayed after she left for her and all the children participating.  Lucky for me, the parents were invited to attend later in the afternoon, and I was looking forward to that.

The bee participants began to trickle in and take their places on the stage.  Of the other three or four sets of parents that attended the bee, two sets were parents of Madison's friends.  I anxiously awaited Madison's arrival.  Finally she came in the gym, ran over to my chair and burst into tears.  It still makes me cry when I think about it.  She was so sad and upset and nervous and seeing me, she just couldn't hold it in any longer.  I can't even adequately express how she felt but I just melted. 

I hugged her and told her how smart she is.  I reaffirmed that she is a strong person and can do this, even though it's hard.  I also reminded her that she can take a pass if she doesn't know a question, but to try and at least give some answer and also that she will not be the only one to miss a question.  She finally collected herself and slowly went up on stage.  I sat in my seat, holding my nephew and hugging her coat trying not to cry.  What kind of mom was I to make my kid do something that was so upsetting to her?  On one level I felt like the worst mom ever. 

One of Madison's friends comforted her before they went up on stage and it reminded me of what nice friends she has.  Then that friend's mom came over and asked if Madison was crying.  That did it.  I burst into tears myself.  Now I really felt foolish but I really was feeling awful that Madison was so upset.  I explained it to her and collected myself.  Madison collected herself and the teachers got the geography bee under way.

The format began as multiple choice.  Excellent!  You get a one in three chance of getting the right answer ;)  Madison answered her first two questions correctly and I cheered her on!  I could see she was nervous but I could also see the pride and joy on her face when she answered the question properly.  I could see her relax and not lose it when she didn't get the right answer.  I chuckled at the boy who, despite his best efforts to not do well, got upset when he answered questions correctly and cheered when he answered them incorrectly.  Unfortunately, I did not get to see the last round of the bee.  Ultimately, Madison did not make it to the finals but that's okay.  In my mind, Madison had already "won" when she walked up, took her place on stage and answered the first question.

I knew when I became a mom that I would have lots of things to teach my children, but I never really stopped to consider what I might learn from my them.  And I do learn a lot!  Madison and I learned a lot from this geography bee, but the most important thing we both learned was not geography. 

I learned how hard it is to encourage your children to do the right thing, especially when it's difficult or scary.  I know that as heartfelt as my tears were and the depth of the guilt I felt at making my child cry, it was the right thing to do as a parent.  Sure, it was only a geography bee and so what if she quit?  But what does that teach her overall?  It doesn't teach her to stick with something, even when it's hard, i.e. perserverence.  It doesn't teach her that she's responsible for her actions and they affect other people, i.e. dependability.  Letting her quit doesn't teach her that she's a strong and smart individual and she can do what she sets her mind to do.  Letting her quit doesn't teach her that she's brave to face down her fears and come out at the conclusion smiling and proud to have done her best.  In addition to learning those things, I hope by encouraging her to continue, she learned that no matter what she can depend on her parents.  We work together and we support her.  And in the middle of all that, she did learn some geography.

Elves on Shelves

It appears that some Christmas magic has reappeared in our home.  Many years ago, Santa was spoiled when my children were still young and they were told Santa was not "real."  I was so sad that this magical time was ruined; not just for them but for their future siblings, as well.  As it turns out, three of the four no longer believe in Santa, the Tooth Fairy and the like.  I know that someday we all figure out that there is no man who shimmies down the chimney or fairy that slips under the pillow to leave treats and surprises.  So, it wasn't necessarily the loss of Santa that grieved me but the loss of the magic of Christmas.  A five-year old doesn't understand the "spirit" of Christmas.  Plus, they then spoil it for future little sisters long before it's time.

On the bright side, I no longer had to worry about hiding wrapped presents or explaining why the handwriting or wrapping paper Santa uses matches mine.  I didn't have to decide which presents came from Santa and which came from me.  I no longer felt "jealous" that they like Santa's gifts better than the ones I gave them.  I can wrap the presents and put them under the tree right away.  The downside is I cannot use Santa as a motivation to "be good" either.  It just doesn't work LOL!  We still talk about Santa, enjoy the shows on TV and visit Santa at the mall. 

Last year I read about an elf on the shelf that reports back to Santa if you've been naughty or nice.  I wasn't sure I wanted to spend the money on something that really wasn't going to be useful for a long period of time.  It wasn't on the radar much and the holiday season passed without much thought to the creepy little elf.  Fast forward a year.

It seems that the devilish little elf has returned in a big way.  We've seen him everywhere:  Facebook, the card stores, Target, friends have it and there's even one at my daughter's preschool.  He's making a huge comeback, but I have found many friends who don't even know what I'm talking about.  My SIL hates the thing and sent me a link to a blog about hating the elf.  I skipped that one.  I felt like I was being judged, especially when she told her kid that only BAD kids got the elf, when he asked for one. 

There was a cartoon on about the elf recently which my children watched and thus became enamoured with this little elf that reports whether you've been naughty or nice to Santa each night .  It was all they talked about for several days, and in the end I broke down and bought the darn thing.  It came with a wiry, plushy-type elf with no feet and a lovely hardcover book. I think it's severely overpriced but, hey, I bought it anyway.

The premise of the elf is you adopt him and set him somewhere in your home.  He stays in that spot all day recording his observations and then magically flies back to the North Pole each night to give a report to Santa.  Then he flies back and finds a new spot to sit in your home which the children will find the next day when they wake up.  I thought it was a cute way to talk about the magic of Christmas and have a little hide and seek fun during the holidays.

I came home and put the box under the tree so the kids could find it the next day, which they did.  We opened the box and discovered the elf had already left the box.  Since he's supposed to hide in the first place, this was rather creepy.  No one admitted to taking the elf out and hiding him somewhere.  Already we had elf issues.  I returned the box to the store, I mean elf adoption center, and we were given a new one.

After the kids got home from school, we took him out, read the story, chose a name and visited the elf website.  His name was Twinkle.  Then the next day we changed it to Jingles which seemed to suit him better.  I put Jingles on a candle on the TV stand.  The girls seemed a little skittish with the elf while their brother shook his head at all of it.  Did I mention he has no feet?

As bedtime got closer, the tension ramped up a great deal.  It turns out the girls thought that he would hide and jump out to scare them or do some other nefarious things to frighten them like sneak in their room while they were sleeping.  This was a big deal at bedtime.  I mean HUGE!  Oh, the drama of little girls.  They were quite frightened.  I'll admit that he looks a little odd what with his no feet, skinny legs and eyes that don't really look straight ahead but off to the side.  But they are big blue eyes and a little smile to look happy.  All I heard for days was how much they wanted an elf like their friends and now they were scared.  Make that petrified.

We ended up with two little bodies in our bed that night.  I figured we'd just move them after they fell asleep.  Eventually, they fell asleep but woke up frequently worried about the elf.  I promised he'd stay downstairs and not come upstairs.  The bed was very crowded and no one got any sleep that night.  For children who don't believe in Santa, they sure did attribute quite a lot of power to a stuffed elf.  At one point the littlest one woke up thinking she saw him on the dresser, actually pointing, looking and trembling in fear.  I finally got her back to sleep but vowed that darn elf was going back to the store.  It was a long sleepless night.

The elf did find a new spot to sit after that night.  The girls, seemingly excited, ran down the stairs to see if Jingles was still there.  And there he sat -- in the Christmas tree!  They were so excited, yelling and pointing.  They weren't sure what to make of it or if we should keep it.  I had promised them and my husband I would take it back to the store, but I did not have time to make a trip to the store that day. 

Last night we had some discussion about what to do about the elf.  Santa has given the elf rules he has to follow so I suggested we tell the elf to talk to Santa about staying on the main floor of the house.  They seemed more open to keeping Jingles so I decided to follow their lead.  This morning they got right up and ran down the stairs to find the elf on top of the Manger with baby Jesus.  The girls thought this was hysterical!  They were laughing and going around telling everyone where they found Jingles. 

Along with Jingles was a note from Santa explaining that Jingles was a really nice elf who didn't wish to scare anyone.  The rules include that no elf is allowed to leave the main floor, go in any bedrooms or bathrooms.  The only comment my oldest daughter had about the note was that she liked the font Santa used.  I find this quite funny. The girls seemed okay with that today, so I will continue to follow their lead. 

I'm excited that we are keeping the elf.  For now.  While it's probably only a couple-year tradition here, it's brought back some of the magic of the holiday.  Whether or not they believe the elf can really go visit Santa or move about the house, it looks like it's going to be a fun and magical game that we can enjoy together.   They grow up too fast and I want to hold onto that magical innocence that only children have for as long as possible.

Now, where will we find the elf tomorrow ...?