- I loved playing Barber with Cortlan today. He put a cape on me, pretended to blow dry my hair, brush it, and trim it (with eyelash curlers as the chosen appliance), and then did some crazy pretend thing with tweezers, and some other crazy pretend thing with an unopened container of cuticle cream involving my face. (Maybe that was my makeup?) He was a very quiet barber - serious and down to business. When he was done with me, he gave me a pretend lollipop. I went to eat it, and was quickly given the reminder, "Mommy, you have to take off the wrapper." When it was my turn to be the barber, he sat very still and squinted his eyes, just like he does when it's the real deal. I went to blow dry his hair, and made some great sound effects as I was doing so. The response: "You usually turn it on first." Oh yeah. Duh.
- I am finding that I am putting music on all the time in the house now, for several reasons. First, I just got a new iPod Touch, and the novelty hasn't worn off yet. I can hook it up to speakers in my kitchen and use the Pandora app to stream a random collection of any kind of music from my "Itsy Bitsy Spider" station, to my "Breakeven" station, without having to listen to The Little People sing "The Wheels on the Bus" for the four-thousand and fifty-first time. And we just went to the library yesterday and got a nice random collection of new stuff to listen to, too. But, the number one reason that I am playing more music lately is because everytime I do, I get to see Everly dance her little heart out. I love that.
- I mean this in the nicest possible way, but I don't know how people who don't exercise maintain their sanity. Honestly. I mean, I sometimes cannot figure out how the heck to fit it into my schedule, but sometimes I can't figure out how to fit eating and sleeping into my schedule, either. I certainly feel like crap without eating and sleeping. Likewise without exercising. I know that it sometimes seems like the most unappealing thing in the world, especially when I am tired, overworked, and stressed. But seriously, how do people live happy lives without the endorphins that can only come from good old-fashioned exercise? Those feel good chemicals are just the thing that gets me through those tired, overworked, and stressed moments. Good for those people who have figured out another way, but man...I can't seem to.
- Reason #52 that I love my new iPod: I found out today that there is wi-fi in Giant Eagle. Certainly made the checkout line go much faster than normal.
- Even in the summer, there tends to just not be enough time in the day to get everything done. But wow, what would I do without summer? How would I ever organize my photos or read a book or clean my windows or wash and iron my curtains without summer? Or play Barber before lunch?
- I can't believe that it is almost July already.
- I should probably send a reminder to myself to read this when I am feeling more tired, overworked, and stressed than I do at the current moment.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Here and now
Somedays, I have so many things to think about and say that I don't know were to begin, so here is just a random splattering of just a few of the things on my mind at the moment...
Monday, June 28, 2010
I am a runner
A great friend gave me a book for my birthday called Run Like A Mother by Dimity McDowell and Sarah Bowen Shea. I am not entirely done with it, but I am close. And what I have read, I have loved. When she gave it to me, the gifting friend said something along the lines of, "I knew I liked this book when they mentioned having to schedule showers as a mom. I can so relate." And even though I have only run two 5K's, have no desire to ever run a marathon (at this point), and am only vaguely tossing around the idea of training for a 10K, the nice thing is that with this book, I can so relate, too.
I was a sprinter in high school, and I have only recently gotten into running for any significant distance. And by significant, I mean more than 200m, so I have been reluctant to actually consider myself "a runner." In many people's minds, I probably still am not. But this morning, I donned my moisture-wicking tank, tied my pink Nikes (not my brand new ones), and headed out for a morning run before the kids woke. In the rain. And as I ran the first 0.5 mile, I decided that as of today, I will consider myself a runner. Because I just knowingly went for a run in the rain. Now, I have been caught in the rain before, about a mile from home, and didn't have any other option but to run in the rain; and the second 5K that I ran was partially in the rain. But this was the first time there was a choice in the matter, and I made the choice to run.
So, as of today, by my very own definition, I am a runner. And I run like a mother.
I was a sprinter in high school, and I have only recently gotten into running for any significant distance. And by significant, I mean more than 200m, so I have been reluctant to actually consider myself "a runner." In many people's minds, I probably still am not. But this morning, I donned my moisture-wicking tank, tied my pink Nikes (not my brand new ones), and headed out for a morning run before the kids woke. In the rain. And as I ran the first 0.5 mile, I decided that as of today, I will consider myself a runner. Because I just knowingly went for a run in the rain. Now, I have been caught in the rain before, about a mile from home, and didn't have any other option but to run in the rain; and the second 5K that I ran was partially in the rain. But this was the first time there was a choice in the matter, and I made the choice to run.
So, as of today, by my very own definition, I am a runner. And I run like a mother.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Idlewild
Yesterday was a day filled with firsts; an awesome day, with two little exceptions that stand out in my mind. But I will get to the exceptions later.
Yesterday, we got to go on that Idlewild trip I referred to months ago, the one that seemed so far away at the time. The day was hot and sunny; the park wasn't too crowded. Upon arrival, we enjoyed a picnic lunch, and then headed to Story Book Forest, where Everly greeted Mother Goose with a big smile and wave. And Cortlan excitedly ran and said, "Mommy! Let's go in there!" pointing at one storybook house after another.
The last time Everly had been to Idlewild, she was seven months old and not nearly as aware of things as she is now at fifteen months. She enjoyed Story Book Forest and then we moved on to Jumping Jungle, where she got her first experience in the big ball pit. And then to Raccoon Lagoon, where she got to ride rides for the first time. Like her brother two years ago, her first was the motorcycle, and she leaned forward and grabbed those handle bars like a pro. One after another, she loved the rides, and even seemed to be getting the concept of waiting in line. She nodded when I asked if she wanted to go on the caged-in kiddie Ferris Wheel, and moved her arm around in a big circle to indicate that it went around and around. She loved Mr. Roger's Neighborhood and danced when they sang. She loved riding up and down on the big kid Carousel. And another first of the day: she took a nap in the stroller, allowing us a little more time at the park. Bonus.
Cortlan had some firsts, too, not all of which were good. I will start with the bad, because I would like to end on a high note. Today was the first time that we caught Cortlan in a lie. Not a "Mommy! I just caught a big fish!" as he sits on his bed kind of lie, but what I would call a legit lie. He had taken some candy out of a drawer, and as John came into the room and said, "Stop. Did you ask anyone if you could have that?" Cortlan quickly popped the candy in his mouth and said that Mommy had. I hadn't. And I know that it isn't that big of a lie, and I know that three-year-olds live in a fantasy land most of the time, where they invent their own reality to suit them. And I have even read articles and websites in the past, one that said, "Intentional, manipulative, or malevolent intent to deceive doesn't happen at this age." But, it did make me a bit sad to have had this first lie, this first taste of what the future may hold, the first feeling of what it might be like to not know if I can trust.
The second not-so-good first for Cortlan came in the line at the airplane ride in Raccoon Lagoon, where he and his friend stood waiting, as her dad and I chatted as we waited with them. A very tired Cortlan zoned out and stared at the airplanes as his friend talked to him, and then he suddenly turned and clapped her face. (That was his term for the motion of clapping his hands together, with her face between them.) I was mortified that he would do such a thing to his friend, a friend, might I add, whose parents I would very much like to remain friends with. I scooped him up and out of the line. He had his fit, made his apologies, and did not have his airplane ride. All because his friend had told him he had brown eyes. Um. Hello, Cortlan. You do have brown eyes. Not good.
But, those two moments aside, I would say that Cortlan did have a pretty good day, and had his own share of firsts. He got to ride the Scrambler for the first time (with Dad) and the big Ferris Wheel for the first time (with Mom). As we sat perched at the very highest point on the ride, he said to me, "Mommy! I have never been this high up before!" We looked out at the trees beneath us, and waved to Everly and Daddy, and enjoyed the moment.
On the whole, it was an awesome day. With two little exceptions.
Yesterday, we got to go on that Idlewild trip I referred to months ago, the one that seemed so far away at the time. The day was hot and sunny; the park wasn't too crowded. Upon arrival, we enjoyed a picnic lunch, and then headed to Story Book Forest, where Everly greeted Mother Goose with a big smile and wave. And Cortlan excitedly ran and said, "Mommy! Let's go in there!" pointing at one storybook house after another.
The last time Everly had been to Idlewild, she was seven months old and not nearly as aware of things as she is now at fifteen months. She enjoyed Story Book Forest and then we moved on to Jumping Jungle, where she got her first experience in the big ball pit. And then to Raccoon Lagoon, where she got to ride rides for the first time. Like her brother two years ago, her first was the motorcycle, and she leaned forward and grabbed those handle bars like a pro. One after another, she loved the rides, and even seemed to be getting the concept of waiting in line. She nodded when I asked if she wanted to go on the caged-in kiddie Ferris Wheel, and moved her arm around in a big circle to indicate that it went around and around. She loved Mr. Roger's Neighborhood and danced when they sang. She loved riding up and down on the big kid Carousel. And another first of the day: she took a nap in the stroller, allowing us a little more time at the park. Bonus.
Cortlan had some firsts, too, not all of which were good. I will start with the bad, because I would like to end on a high note. Today was the first time that we caught Cortlan in a lie. Not a "Mommy! I just caught a big fish!" as he sits on his bed kind of lie, but what I would call a legit lie. He had taken some candy out of a drawer, and as John came into the room and said, "Stop. Did you ask anyone if you could have that?" Cortlan quickly popped the candy in his mouth and said that Mommy had. I hadn't. And I know that it isn't that big of a lie, and I know that three-year-olds live in a fantasy land most of the time, where they invent their own reality to suit them. And I have even read articles and websites in the past, one that said, "Intentional, manipulative, or malevolent intent to deceive doesn't happen at this age." But, it did make me a bit sad to have had this first lie, this first taste of what the future may hold, the first feeling of what it might be like to not know if I can trust.
The second not-so-good first for Cortlan came in the line at the airplane ride in Raccoon Lagoon, where he and his friend stood waiting, as her dad and I chatted as we waited with them. A very tired Cortlan zoned out and stared at the airplanes as his friend talked to him, and then he suddenly turned and clapped her face. (That was his term for the motion of clapping his hands together, with her face between them.) I was mortified that he would do such a thing to his friend, a friend, might I add, whose parents I would very much like to remain friends with. I scooped him up and out of the line. He had his fit, made his apologies, and did not have his airplane ride. All because his friend had told him he had brown eyes. Um. Hello, Cortlan. You do have brown eyes. Not good.
But, those two moments aside, I would say that Cortlan did have a pretty good day, and had his own share of firsts. He got to ride the Scrambler for the first time (with Dad) and the big Ferris Wheel for the first time (with Mom). As we sat perched at the very highest point on the ride, he said to me, "Mommy! I have never been this high up before!" We looked out at the trees beneath us, and waved to Everly and Daddy, and enjoyed the moment.
On the whole, it was an awesome day. With two little exceptions.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Father's Day
I stood on the deck with my coffee a few minutes ago and admired the sunshine pouring through the trees in perfect little rays on a perfectly beautiful Sunday morning. Father's Day.
What John wanted this Father's Day: A shovel. And to ride his motorcycle. He's getting both. And he deserves much, much more.
As he left before the kids woke, I asked where he would be going, just so I would know. From the sounds of it, we will see him a few hours from now. He has said to me that riding the motorcycle is therapeutic, and I get what he's saying. And we all need something like that. And he deserves to be able to ride through the sunshine and crisp air on this Father's Day, for as long as he wants to.
The saying has been printed on millions of Father's Day cards: Anyone can be a father; it takes a special man to be a Dad. I am blessed with a husband and a father who are both tremendous dads.
Maybe it is because the spectrum of acceptable abilities and expectations in the dad kingdom is far wider than that in the mom kingdom (think: not once changing a diaper, and I actually know a dad of two children who has never done so, versus volunteering to stay home with a sick nine-month-old and changing the three-year-old's puked on sheets in the middle of the night, for example), but dads have unique qualities about them. And the relationships with them are something special, in a not-necessarily-better, but definitely-different-than-mom kind of way.
I love my memories with my dad. I remember, as a young girl, decorating his head with many different barrettes and ponytails as he sat very still. I remember riding on the back of his motorcycle. I remember taking rides in the wagon behind the tractor and him going sideways on the steep hill so the wagon would tip and we kids would roll down the hill laughing. I remember playing football in the yard, and washing cars, and helping remodel the bathroom (and taking video a la "This Old House"). I remember being on his shoulders playing chicken in the pool. I remember him getting up at 3:30 for work, coming home for dinner, making "his calls," playing with us, and him "resting his eyes" while we all hung out in the living room. I remember him resting my back, which I now do to my children, and like it did to me, the soft back and forth grazing of the fingertips on their back puts them in a trance. I remember my dad not-so-discretely changing the channel on the radio station when a condom commercial came on. I remember the feeling of knowing my dad was proud of me. I remember that my dad didn't look up as he walked me down the aisle, and that dancing our dance at my wedding was even more emotional. I remember my dad coming to visit me at the hospital when Cortlan was born.
I watch as John makes memories with my children and I think about how special dads are, and how lucky that my kids are to have John as a dad. I watch as Cortlan "helps" him assemble a shelf. I beam as Everly and he head out for a father-daughter dinner, even if it is only to Chick-fil-a. I love that he works so hard, and changes diapers, and helps give baths, and vacuums, and doesn't need me to write down instructions when I leave for a girls' night or head to aerobics, and so much more. And I love that he loves spending time with his kids.
There is no doubt that dads are special. I know that this day isn't the easiest for John, as his dad passed away in 2001. But I know that he has many fond memories of his dad, too, like the one he was telling me yesterday of his dad pedaling like crazy as he tried, and succeeded, to start an old moped in John's youth.
This morning, John came into the kitchen and turned on the lights over the breakfast bar. The switch was met with the distinct pop of one of the three bulbs burning out. After a silent pause, John said, "You know what my mom would say." The thought registered. After John's dad had passed away, him mom had many instances of weird things happening with the lights in her house, and the presence of his dad in those moments was palpable to her. We had not personally experienced it before,and it may just be coincidence, but I said to John, "Maybe there is something to it." He said, "Yeah. Maybe."
And then, "Thanks, Dad. Happy Father's Day."
Happy Father's Day.
Thanks, Dads.
What John wanted this Father's Day: A shovel. And to ride his motorcycle. He's getting both. And he deserves much, much more.
As he left before the kids woke, I asked where he would be going, just so I would know. From the sounds of it, we will see him a few hours from now. He has said to me that riding the motorcycle is therapeutic, and I get what he's saying. And we all need something like that. And he deserves to be able to ride through the sunshine and crisp air on this Father's Day, for as long as he wants to.
The saying has been printed on millions of Father's Day cards: Anyone can be a father; it takes a special man to be a Dad. I am blessed with a husband and a father who are both tremendous dads.
Maybe it is because the spectrum of acceptable abilities and expectations in the dad kingdom is far wider than that in the mom kingdom (think: not once changing a diaper, and I actually know a dad of two children who has never done so, versus volunteering to stay home with a sick nine-month-old and changing the three-year-old's puked on sheets in the middle of the night, for example), but dads have unique qualities about them. And the relationships with them are something special, in a not-necessarily-better, but definitely-different-than-mom kind of way.
I love my memories with my dad. I remember, as a young girl, decorating his head with many different barrettes and ponytails as he sat very still. I remember riding on the back of his motorcycle. I remember taking rides in the wagon behind the tractor and him going sideways on the steep hill so the wagon would tip and we kids would roll down the hill laughing. I remember playing football in the yard, and washing cars, and helping remodel the bathroom (and taking video a la "This Old House"). I remember being on his shoulders playing chicken in the pool. I remember him getting up at 3:30 for work, coming home for dinner, making "his calls," playing with us, and him "resting his eyes" while we all hung out in the living room. I remember him resting my back, which I now do to my children, and like it did to me, the soft back and forth grazing of the fingertips on their back puts them in a trance. I remember my dad not-so-discretely changing the channel on the radio station when a condom commercial came on. I remember the feeling of knowing my dad was proud of me. I remember that my dad didn't look up as he walked me down the aisle, and that dancing our dance at my wedding was even more emotional. I remember my dad coming to visit me at the hospital when Cortlan was born.
I watch as John makes memories with my children and I think about how special dads are, and how lucky that my kids are to have John as a dad. I watch as Cortlan "helps" him assemble a shelf. I beam as Everly and he head out for a father-daughter dinner, even if it is only to Chick-fil-a. I love that he works so hard, and changes diapers, and helps give baths, and vacuums, and doesn't need me to write down instructions when I leave for a girls' night or head to aerobics, and so much more. And I love that he loves spending time with his kids.
There is no doubt that dads are special. I know that this day isn't the easiest for John, as his dad passed away in 2001. But I know that he has many fond memories of his dad, too, like the one he was telling me yesterday of his dad pedaling like crazy as he tried, and succeeded, to start an old moped in John's youth.
This morning, John came into the kitchen and turned on the lights over the breakfast bar. The switch was met with the distinct pop of one of the three bulbs burning out. After a silent pause, John said, "You know what my mom would say." The thought registered. After John's dad had passed away, him mom had many instances of weird things happening with the lights in her house, and the presence of his dad in those moments was palpable to her. We had not personally experienced it before,and it may just be coincidence, but I said to John, "Maybe there is something to it." He said, "Yeah. Maybe."
And then, "Thanks, Dad. Happy Father's Day."
Happy Father's Day.
Thanks, Dads.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Summer is here!
Summer has officially begun.
- The street is alive with the carefree neighborhood kids riding bikes. And Cortlan recklessly driving his friend's Power Wheels Jeep. Luckily, those weren't happening at the same time. (Lord help us when he's sixteen.)
- Bubble blowing has replaced grading papers.
- Since Saturday, we have eaten every dinner outside on the deck.
- Everly has two skinned knees.
- We have already gotten our money's worth out of our recently purchased red wagon, having pulled the kids for two miles around the park and countless trips around the neighborhood, not to mention the driveway fun.
- Swimming lessons began yesterday. The first day was met with trepidation, the second with tears. (Here's to hoping that it is out of Cortlan's system tomorrow and that the excitement that he has on the way to the lessons continues through them.)
- Bedtime is inching later into the evening, and so is waking time inching later into the morning, allowing John and I to set the alarm and wake before the kids this morning, and have a cup of coffee on the deck...Glorious.
- The flowers are all planted, the mulching is done, and it won't be long now before we have fresh zucchini and tomatoes on our plates.
- I have remembered that I don't actually hate cooking. I just hate it when I feel like it is taking away from scarce time with my kids during the school year.
- We've played with play-doh, had tickle battles, read countless books, painted, made a picture frame, played kitchen and diggers, and in the sandbox, and in the rain, and in the dirt...and I have still found time to keep my house relatively clean. Of course, it has only been less than a week.
- I've gone for runs in the mornings while the dew is still on the grass.
- I've realized that I can do a lot when I have another 50 or so hours in the week and that I LOVE that my job allows me to be a stay at home mom for two months every year.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
My Speech
Ok, so here is the script from my speech, given to the magna cum laude and summa cum laude graduates of my high school alma matter at their honors banquet the day before they graduated. I am hesitant to post this, because I think that the delivery can really change a speech. If you have read most of my blog, you will see that I incorporated some of my former blog posts into the speech, so some may be familiar to you. (Sorry!) If you haven't read the post about what I went through before, during, and after this speech, you may want to read that first. (Though, that might be more reading than you want to do.) Anyway, as anticlimactic as it may be, here goes...
Thank you. Good evening everyone.
I feel like I should start this speech tonight by saying that at this moment, my biggest fear is either heights or public speaking. And I realize that both are kind of weird fears for me to have, considering that: 1. I have jumped out of an airplane eight times and 2. I am a teacher who stands in front of a classroom full of people everyday. But I can assure you that jumping out of an airplane is very different than looking over a balcony or walking up steps that don't have risers or walking across a bridge or a number of other things that I could mention that have sent my heart racing. And standing in front of a class teaching my students physics is very different than standing here tonight. But I have only had one panic attack in my life. It was on the sky coaster at Kennywood about ten years ago. (My husband probably still has the marks on his arm and the ringing in his ears from the experience.) So, I am figuring that if I don't have a panic attack while giving this speech tonight, I can officially rank public speaking as number two on my list of fears. We will see how that goes.
With that said...I can't tell you how many times I started writing this speech only to scrap it and start over again. It really wasn't as easy as Miss Ross made it sound when she was trying to convince me to do it. I mean, to be asked was sincerely an honor, but just reading the e-mail asking me to do this was cause for a reapplication of deodorant. What can I possibly say to inspire you? You are among the best and brightest. You are self motivated. You are are hard working. You are inspirational.
I went to many sources when trying to decide what to say. I even resorted to Facebook and asked my friends what advice they would give you if they were in my position. You certainly don't want to know everything they had to say; trust me. In fact, I should probably include some advice in here about not doing research via a status update, and maybe even "don't always listen to your facebook friends."
But I found it interesting that the very first piece of advice that came up was, "I would advise them to do something that scares them, often."
What are you afraid of? Think about that. What are you afraid of? I mean really afraid of?
I can tell you that there have been many things I have been afraid of in my life, heights and public speaking aside.
15 years ago, I was you. And I remember everyone and their mother, literally, asking me where I was going to college and what I was going to major in, and what I wanted to do with my life. I got tired of the looks when I said, "Uhhhhh. I have no idea," and so I started to just make things up. But the reality was that I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. For things like this banquet, I wrote down that I was majoring in architecture. It just sounded a lot better than "undecided," even though that is really what I was. The uncertainty was really scary for me. I felt like I was just supposed to "know" what I wanted to do with my life. I was supposed to be able to picture my life in 5, 10, 15 years. But I could hardly picture my life in 5 months! What I did know was that I wanted to graduate college, get a job, probably get married. I didn't really know if I wanted to have kids or not. I kind of envisioned having a prestigious career of some sort, though I wasn't sure which, and just like everyone, I wanted to be rich...you know...successful.
But I was also afraid of failure. There came that point in senior year when we had to vote on senior superlatives. People were coming up to me and telling me that they were going to vote for me for most likely to succeed, and I immediately pleaded for them to not vote for me. I felt like if I was voted most likely to succeed, that there would be this expectation hanging over me for the rest of my life - the expectation that I would actually succeed. And come on! I was to the point of making things up about what I was going to do with the rest of my life! How could I be most likely to succeed? But I was voted most likely to succeed. And that made me even more afraid to fail. When I came back to meet with my friends at my 10 year reunion, what would I be? Would I live up to my title? But I wasn't just afraid to fail in the big picture; I was afraid to fail in lesser ways, too. I think that is just something that people like you and I have in common...how many times have you said, "Oh my gosh. I totally failed that test." And then at worst, you got a B?
In my life I have also been afraid of change. Well, maybe "afraid" isn't the right word for this one...maybe just "not good at dealing with" change would be more appropriate. John would probably say that is the understatement of the century. I started college at Penn State main campus as an architecture major. I can tell you that going from high school to college was one of the two biggest changes that I have ever faced in my life. Becoming a mother and everything that came along with it was the other of the top two. In both cases, being who I am and due to my "bad at dealing with change" nature, I cried for weeks as I reeled from the change. I was in a tailspin. Within two days of class starting at Penn State, I switched my major to "undecided". Within two weeks of being there, I moved home (literally, on a Friday, I moved all of my possessions home) and then, realizing that was going to get me nowhere, I moved all of my possessions back on Sunday. (My parents loved me.) To a point, the change was almost overwhelming. Unfortunately, my 15 month old daughter seems to have inherited a bit of this from me, as I recently found when went to drop her off at her daycare and I forgot her daily banana in the car. I had to run back out to the car to get it, but the damage was already done. She thought I left her without the banana that starts her every morning. You would have thought that I was abusing the poor child. She cried for 45 minutes, because there was a change in her routine.
What are you afraid of?
You might not even know yet. I was afraid of the unknown. I was afraid of change. I was afraid of failure.
And while I am not able to stand here tonight and tell you that I have done a complete 180, I can tell you that the unknown doesn't really scare me much anymore - it taunts me a bit, and sometimes frustrates me; it certainly makes me uneasy at times, but it also really excites me. As R.I. Fitzhenry said, "Uncertainty and mystery are energies of life. Don't let them scare you unduly, for they keep boredom at bay and spark creativity." Think about where you are right now. Yes, it might be a bit scary that you don't know exactly where you are going to be in five or ten years, but how exciting is it that your path isn't set? How exciting is it that there are people that you have yet to meet that will change your life? How exciting that there are experiences that you will have that you can't even fathom? Uncertainty can be scary, but it doesn't have to be. Very rarely are the decisions you make final. For example, I can assure you that you can change your mind if you don't like your major. I obviously did, and of the 19 people that responded to another one of my scientific studies via status update, 12 of them had changed their majors multiple times. One officially changed her major eight times, unofficially 14 times, and still graduated in 4 years. Another began college with a biomedical engineering major and ended up with a double major in history and dance. Seriously. Uncertainty can be scary, but if you let them, through your uncertainties you may discover your passion. You also may travel to places that you have never imagined. I spent a month in Korea, a spring break in Germany, a portion of my student teaching in Ireland. I highly recommend that you travel in college. You will likely never have the same freedom or opportunities to do so again in your life. But more importantly, push yourself beyond your comfort zone. You have no idea what you might be capable of. Jump into the unknown. Some of the best experiences that I had in college, or even in my life, were the ones that I would have never pictured in my future when I sat at these tables.
As for change, well, even now, 100 years or so after my high school graduation, I am still not the best at dealing with change. It is just my nature, and I think in large part, it is human nature. But I have mastered it somewhat. When I had my second child, I only cried for a few days as opposed to the weeks with my first. I have even dealt relatively gracefully with the changes in my environment since having children. For example, I used to be able to open my nicely organized Tupperware cabinet without an avalanche of random containers falling out. I am ok with the avalanche these days, because I know that playing in that cabinet is something that my kids love to do, and my love for my kids and seeing them happy far outweighs my somewhat obsessive love for organization. Honestly, I have had to change. The other option was to go crazy. Just like Robert C. Gallagher said, "Change is inevitable - except from a vending machine." It is. Change is inevitable, but it is also necessary. What would our lives be if there was no change? There will always be a little discomfort with change, but it is what helps us grow. You will be dealing with a lot of change in the near future. Be prepared for it, and you will excel. Know that the A's may not come as easy. But there is no shame in heading to your professors' office hours or to the tutorial center and getting some extra help. And a B isn't the end of the world. Know that you will at times feel homesick, but that you will always be able to go back home, and that you will be able to make a new home of your own, too, wherever you are. Know even though they may not be an arm's length away, your support system is still going to be there for you, and that you will soon discover a world full of people that will be there for you and inspire you in new ways, too. Know that you don't always need a banana to start your day. Change is uncomfortable, but necessary. If you want to move forward in life, you have to accept that change will be a part of it. Just prepare yourself as best you can and be ready to move forward.
Unknown. Change. Failure... I am not going to say, "do not fear failure." Because I think that in a lot of ways, a little bit of that fear helps motivate us, helps us reach new heights. I know that I am not the only one in this room that rewrote Mr. Saludis's notes because he told us it would help us do better, or who did the completely optional practice problems when preparing for a physics or calculus test, even though we were probably among the only ones in the class who didn't really need to. So do maintain a little bit of that motivational fear, but do not let that fear cripple you. You have tasted success, and though it may not be as easy as you move forward, you have everything that it takes to achieve whatever goals you set.
I was on the track team when I was here. I was actually a sprinter, and during my senior year, our team won the championship. But you don't see many people sprinting for recreation and so for a long time, I didn't do much running. I tried to stay fit, though, and found that I felt best when I exercised. (I strongly recommend exercise, even when you have the least time for it, you will find that is when you benefit most from it.) Anyway, once I had kids, I didn't find it as easy schedule-wise to go to do a lot of the stuff that I had been doing, so I came back to running, something that can be done pretty much anytime, anywhere. Now, I mentioned I was a sprinter. Never have I "enjoyed" distance running. So, for a while when I first started, it was a little bit of torture. I remember on one run in particular, all I wanted to do was stop and walk. On that run, I had a kind of realization. As I was running, I realized that most of it was mental...I wanted to walk, but what was stopping me from running to that next stop sign? Sure, my legs were getting tired, but they were still carrying me forward, and they didn't hurt - at least not in an injury kind of way. My breathing was labored, but no worse than the half-mile before. I broke my run into short goals - get to the next stop sign...get to the next street...and I finished what I set out to do. Life is mostly mental. You have to decide what you want to do, convince yourself that you can, and then find a way to get it done. Set manageable goals, and once you do, don't give yourself an out, don't say "I'll try". Just figure out a way to get it done and do it. Work hard. With where you are now, I don't think you have had much of a problem with that so far - don't stop now. There is a great Nike quote that says, "The only one who can tell you you can't is you. And you don't have to listen." You can reach your goals. It's all mental.
For some, setting and reaching goals will mean success. But keep in mind you have an entire life to live. You have an entire life through which to define your success.
Do not miss out on the bigger successes in life due to any amount of fear of failure. I had read it before, but in a new frame of mind, I recently reread a passage by Ralph Waldo Emerson, who said:
To laugh often and much;
To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children;
To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others;
To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition;
To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.
This is to have succeeded.
When it comes to the big picture, do not fear failure. Live a good life, and create your success. It is all mental. It is all within you. You have already set yourself up for every success in the world.
And there is one last thing that I want to leave you with, and this doesn't really have to do with fears, but is something that has become kind of my mantra over the years. Through the moments in your life, good and bad, please keep in mind that someday, this will all be a memory. As I was struggling through the writing process for this speech, I had to remind myself of this. I was stressed out and frightened of the public speaking, and probably of the possibility of failure, but I knew that one way or another, come the end of June 9th, this speech would be a memory. It would be behind me, for better or for worse. (And hey - no panic attack!) There will be challenging, and difficult moments in your life, ones that you would rather not experience. There will be uncertainty and change, and you will probably experience failure on some level at some point. But someday, you will be through it, and those moments will be nothing but memories, so get through them with the knowledge that they will be behind you and that they have made you stronger. There will also be joyous, sweet, laughter-filled, and precious moments in your life. Like the others, those moments will pass by, too, and will be nothing but memories. Love life and the people you have in your life with all of your being. Let your kids play in the cabinets. Enjoy those moments while you are in them; embrace them; let them fill you up.
As I sat here 15 years ago, I had no idea what my future held. But I wanted to be successful. I have no doubt that I am. I wanted to be rich. I am richer than I would have ever dreamed.
As you make your way on this new journey, do not let fears hinder you. Go out with confidence and experience the world and all of its unknowns. Find your success. Become rich.
Congratulations.
Thank you. Good evening everyone.
I feel like I should start this speech tonight by saying that at this moment, my biggest fear is either heights or public speaking. And I realize that both are kind of weird fears for me to have, considering that: 1. I have jumped out of an airplane eight times and 2. I am a teacher who stands in front of a classroom full of people everyday. But I can assure you that jumping out of an airplane is very different than looking over a balcony or walking up steps that don't have risers or walking across a bridge or a number of other things that I could mention that have sent my heart racing. And standing in front of a class teaching my students physics is very different than standing here tonight. But I have only had one panic attack in my life. It was on the sky coaster at Kennywood about ten years ago. (My husband probably still has the marks on his arm and the ringing in his ears from the experience.) So, I am figuring that if I don't have a panic attack while giving this speech tonight, I can officially rank public speaking as number two on my list of fears. We will see how that goes.
With that said...I can't tell you how many times I started writing this speech only to scrap it and start over again. It really wasn't as easy as Miss Ross made it sound when she was trying to convince me to do it. I mean, to be asked was sincerely an honor, but just reading the e-mail asking me to do this was cause for a reapplication of deodorant. What can I possibly say to inspire you? You are among the best and brightest. You are self motivated. You are are hard working. You are inspirational.
I went to many sources when trying to decide what to say. I even resorted to Facebook and asked my friends what advice they would give you if they were in my position. You certainly don't want to know everything they had to say; trust me. In fact, I should probably include some advice in here about not doing research via a status update, and maybe even "don't always listen to your facebook friends."
But I found it interesting that the very first piece of advice that came up was, "I would advise them to do something that scares them, often."
What are you afraid of? Think about that. What are you afraid of? I mean really afraid of?
I can tell you that there have been many things I have been afraid of in my life, heights and public speaking aside.
15 years ago, I was you. And I remember everyone and their mother, literally, asking me where I was going to college and what I was going to major in, and what I wanted to do with my life. I got tired of the looks when I said, "Uhhhhh. I have no idea," and so I started to just make things up. But the reality was that I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. For things like this banquet, I wrote down that I was majoring in architecture. It just sounded a lot better than "undecided," even though that is really what I was. The uncertainty was really scary for me. I felt like I was just supposed to "know" what I wanted to do with my life. I was supposed to be able to picture my life in 5, 10, 15 years. But I could hardly picture my life in 5 months! What I did know was that I wanted to graduate college, get a job, probably get married. I didn't really know if I wanted to have kids or not. I kind of envisioned having a prestigious career of some sort, though I wasn't sure which, and just like everyone, I wanted to be rich...you know...successful.
But I was also afraid of failure. There came that point in senior year when we had to vote on senior superlatives. People were coming up to me and telling me that they were going to vote for me for most likely to succeed, and I immediately pleaded for them to not vote for me. I felt like if I was voted most likely to succeed, that there would be this expectation hanging over me for the rest of my life - the expectation that I would actually succeed. And come on! I was to the point of making things up about what I was going to do with the rest of my life! How could I be most likely to succeed? But I was voted most likely to succeed. And that made me even more afraid to fail. When I came back to meet with my friends at my 10 year reunion, what would I be? Would I live up to my title? But I wasn't just afraid to fail in the big picture; I was afraid to fail in lesser ways, too. I think that is just something that people like you and I have in common...how many times have you said, "Oh my gosh. I totally failed that test." And then at worst, you got a B?
In my life I have also been afraid of change. Well, maybe "afraid" isn't the right word for this one...maybe just "not good at dealing with" change would be more appropriate. John would probably say that is the understatement of the century. I started college at Penn State main campus as an architecture major. I can tell you that going from high school to college was one of the two biggest changes that I have ever faced in my life. Becoming a mother and everything that came along with it was the other of the top two. In both cases, being who I am and due to my "bad at dealing with change" nature, I cried for weeks as I reeled from the change. I was in a tailspin. Within two days of class starting at Penn State, I switched my major to "undecided". Within two weeks of being there, I moved home (literally, on a Friday, I moved all of my possessions home) and then, realizing that was going to get me nowhere, I moved all of my possessions back on Sunday. (My parents loved me.) To a point, the change was almost overwhelming. Unfortunately, my 15 month old daughter seems to have inherited a bit of this from me, as I recently found when went to drop her off at her daycare and I forgot her daily banana in the car. I had to run back out to the car to get it, but the damage was already done. She thought I left her without the banana that starts her every morning. You would have thought that I was abusing the poor child. She cried for 45 minutes, because there was a change in her routine.
What are you afraid of?
You might not even know yet. I was afraid of the unknown. I was afraid of change. I was afraid of failure.
And while I am not able to stand here tonight and tell you that I have done a complete 180, I can tell you that the unknown doesn't really scare me much anymore - it taunts me a bit, and sometimes frustrates me; it certainly makes me uneasy at times, but it also really excites me. As R.I. Fitzhenry said, "Uncertainty and mystery are energies of life. Don't let them scare you unduly, for they keep boredom at bay and spark creativity." Think about where you are right now. Yes, it might be a bit scary that you don't know exactly where you are going to be in five or ten years, but how exciting is it that your path isn't set? How exciting is it that there are people that you have yet to meet that will change your life? How exciting that there are experiences that you will have that you can't even fathom? Uncertainty can be scary, but it doesn't have to be. Very rarely are the decisions you make final. For example, I can assure you that you can change your mind if you don't like your major. I obviously did, and of the 19 people that responded to another one of my scientific studies via status update, 12 of them had changed their majors multiple times. One officially changed her major eight times, unofficially 14 times, and still graduated in 4 years. Another began college with a biomedical engineering major and ended up with a double major in history and dance. Seriously. Uncertainty can be scary, but if you let them, through your uncertainties you may discover your passion. You also may travel to places that you have never imagined. I spent a month in Korea, a spring break in Germany, a portion of my student teaching in Ireland. I highly recommend that you travel in college. You will likely never have the same freedom or opportunities to do so again in your life. But more importantly, push yourself beyond your comfort zone. You have no idea what you might be capable of. Jump into the unknown. Some of the best experiences that I had in college, or even in my life, were the ones that I would have never pictured in my future when I sat at these tables.
As for change, well, even now, 100 years or so after my high school graduation, I am still not the best at dealing with change. It is just my nature, and I think in large part, it is human nature. But I have mastered it somewhat. When I had my second child, I only cried for a few days as opposed to the weeks with my first. I have even dealt relatively gracefully with the changes in my environment since having children. For example, I used to be able to open my nicely organized Tupperware cabinet without an avalanche of random containers falling out. I am ok with the avalanche these days, because I know that playing in that cabinet is something that my kids love to do, and my love for my kids and seeing them happy far outweighs my somewhat obsessive love for organization. Honestly, I have had to change. The other option was to go crazy. Just like Robert C. Gallagher said, "Change is inevitable - except from a vending machine." It is. Change is inevitable, but it is also necessary. What would our lives be if there was no change? There will always be a little discomfort with change, but it is what helps us grow. You will be dealing with a lot of change in the near future. Be prepared for it, and you will excel. Know that the A's may not come as easy. But there is no shame in heading to your professors' office hours or to the tutorial center and getting some extra help. And a B isn't the end of the world. Know that you will at times feel homesick, but that you will always be able to go back home, and that you will be able to make a new home of your own, too, wherever you are. Know even though they may not be an arm's length away, your support system is still going to be there for you, and that you will soon discover a world full of people that will be there for you and inspire you in new ways, too. Know that you don't always need a banana to start your day. Change is uncomfortable, but necessary. If you want to move forward in life, you have to accept that change will be a part of it. Just prepare yourself as best you can and be ready to move forward.
Unknown. Change. Failure... I am not going to say, "do not fear failure." Because I think that in a lot of ways, a little bit of that fear helps motivate us, helps us reach new heights. I know that I am not the only one in this room that rewrote Mr. Saludis's notes because he told us it would help us do better, or who did the completely optional practice problems when preparing for a physics or calculus test, even though we were probably among the only ones in the class who didn't really need to. So do maintain a little bit of that motivational fear, but do not let that fear cripple you. You have tasted success, and though it may not be as easy as you move forward, you have everything that it takes to achieve whatever goals you set.
I was on the track team when I was here. I was actually a sprinter, and during my senior year, our team won the championship. But you don't see many people sprinting for recreation and so for a long time, I didn't do much running. I tried to stay fit, though, and found that I felt best when I exercised. (I strongly recommend exercise, even when you have the least time for it, you will find that is when you benefit most from it.) Anyway, once I had kids, I didn't find it as easy schedule-wise to go to do a lot of the stuff that I had been doing, so I came back to running, something that can be done pretty much anytime, anywhere. Now, I mentioned I was a sprinter. Never have I "enjoyed" distance running. So, for a while when I first started, it was a little bit of torture. I remember on one run in particular, all I wanted to do was stop and walk. On that run, I had a kind of realization. As I was running, I realized that most of it was mental...I wanted to walk, but what was stopping me from running to that next stop sign? Sure, my legs were getting tired, but they were still carrying me forward, and they didn't hurt - at least not in an injury kind of way. My breathing was labored, but no worse than the half-mile before. I broke my run into short goals - get to the next stop sign...get to the next street...and I finished what I set out to do. Life is mostly mental. You have to decide what you want to do, convince yourself that you can, and then find a way to get it done. Set manageable goals, and once you do, don't give yourself an out, don't say "I'll try". Just figure out a way to get it done and do it. Work hard. With where you are now, I don't think you have had much of a problem with that so far - don't stop now. There is a great Nike quote that says, "The only one who can tell you you can't is you. And you don't have to listen." You can reach your goals. It's all mental.
For some, setting and reaching goals will mean success. But keep in mind you have an entire life to live. You have an entire life through which to define your success.
Do not miss out on the bigger successes in life due to any amount of fear of failure. I had read it before, but in a new frame of mind, I recently reread a passage by Ralph Waldo Emerson, who said:
To laugh often and much;
To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children;
To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others;
To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition;
To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.
This is to have succeeded.
When it comes to the big picture, do not fear failure. Live a good life, and create your success. It is all mental. It is all within you. You have already set yourself up for every success in the world.
And there is one last thing that I want to leave you with, and this doesn't really have to do with fears, but is something that has become kind of my mantra over the years. Through the moments in your life, good and bad, please keep in mind that someday, this will all be a memory. As I was struggling through the writing process for this speech, I had to remind myself of this. I was stressed out and frightened of the public speaking, and probably of the possibility of failure, but I knew that one way or another, come the end of June 9th, this speech would be a memory. It would be behind me, for better or for worse. (And hey - no panic attack!) There will be challenging, and difficult moments in your life, ones that you would rather not experience. There will be uncertainty and change, and you will probably experience failure on some level at some point. But someday, you will be through it, and those moments will be nothing but memories, so get through them with the knowledge that they will be behind you and that they have made you stronger. There will also be joyous, sweet, laughter-filled, and precious moments in your life. Like the others, those moments will pass by, too, and will be nothing but memories. Love life and the people you have in your life with all of your being. Let your kids play in the cabinets. Enjoy those moments while you are in them; embrace them; let them fill you up.
As I sat here 15 years ago, I had no idea what my future held. But I wanted to be successful. I have no doubt that I am. I wanted to be rich. I am richer than I would have ever dreamed.
As you make your way on this new journey, do not let fears hinder you. Go out with confidence and experience the world and all of its unknowns. Find your success. Become rich.
Congratulations.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Wednesday, June 9th
Sometimes, you don't realize how stressed you are until the unknown cause of the unknown stress is gone.
I feel like a new person now that Wednesday is over.
Wednesday was the last day of school with students.
Wednesday was the day of the speech that, for months, I had been working on and preparing for, and for which I did not feel adequately prepared at all. But then, I don't know what I could have done to feel more prepared.
All day Wednesday, I was in a panic...was my speech too long at twenty minutes? Should I cut some? Does it make sense? Will it sound stupid? And the worst - will I even make it through? The first time I practiced it for real, in my classroom, by myself, I had teared up at the end. What would I do as I delivered the speech in a room full of people?
I practiced many more times, still not feeling that it was enough, but at twenty minutes a pop, I could only do it so many times. The first time through was the only time in which choking up was involved.
That evening, as I prepared dinner for the kids and my mother-in-law (who was going to be watching them while John and I were at the banquet), I went through the speech one last time. Too late for any changes by that point. We left (with Cortlan happily playing, and Everly crying) and headed to the banquet hall.
I took a few deep breaths and we were ready to go in. I saw the podium where I was soon to be delivering my speech...into a microphone...which somehow amplified the nervousness I was feeling. We made small talk, greeted some wonderful former teachers and friends, ate dinner.
As we clipped through the program at a pace not nearly slow enough, we eventually got to the key note speaker - me.
Ok, I am going to be fine. I can do this. It is just a speech and these people are all so nice and are on my side with this. What's the worst that can happen? It will be over soon. Be confident. Be strong. Be enthusiastic. Be inpirational. Take control.
I listened to my introduction, which was a bit surreal. Were they talking about me? I approached the podium, said my thanks and good evening, and began.
In my head I was confident. In my head, I was ready for this, and knew that it was a wonderful opportunity, and that I was strong. But my body gave a completely different message. My stomach quivered. My hands shook. Suddenly, I had to pee. The words that came out of my mouth were right, but they even surprised me by their tremble.
Deep breath. Keep going.
I gained momentum. I started to feel better. And then came the line about 1/3 of the way into my speech (a line, incidentally, that didn't catch me off guard through any of the many practice speeches) in which I mention my love for my children. The tears began. I ignored them, thinking they would be short lived and that I would quickly recover. Nope. The gate had been opened. I was laying it all out there at this point.
I pressed on, and recovered briefly, before the tears began again. I made a joke out of it, referencing that this was not the panic attack that I mentioned at the beginning of the speech, and at another time, laughing through the tears, saying, "What is wrong with me??!" The audience laughed with me when I hoped they would.
I could hardly see who I was talking to, partially because of the tears, partially because it was as if my mind and body were in two different places, completely disconnected from one another in thought and action. I hardly stole a glance at the table where my husband sat, for fear that would make my emotional reaction worse.
My mouth said the words, and I was paying attention and focused on what I was doing, but yet there was this other part of my mind...What the heck is going on right now? Why are these tears not stopping? Why do I have no control??!
I did notice a few people pull out tissues, a few others slyly wipe their eyes with the side of their hands. Are they crying, too??
I got to the last part of my speech - the part where I had gotten emotional as I practiced. I knew this wouldn't be good.
Smiling, I whispered through tears into the microphone. I felt I should prepare them. This part is going to be tough for me.
It was. I took it line by line. I wanted to be able to speak clearly enough for them to understand what I was saying. The tears fell harder. I ended. Congratulations, I said. It was over.
This was either a really good speech, or I just embarassed the hell out of myself.
I got to the table, feeling humble, as the mother of the valedictorian handed me a tissue as I walked past.
I sat down. John put his hand on me and told me I did great. Then leaned over and whispered in my ear, "You made me cry." The teachers that I sat with complimented me.
I felt relief wash over me. I felt like I had just accomplished something huge. It was something I had dreaded, but knew I had to do. I still wasn't sure whether the speech was good, but I felt like I was on top of the world.
On our way out of the banquet hall, a girl who was being honored at the banquet stopped me. "Thank you so much," she said. "Really. That meant so much to me. I feel like I am you, and the things you said really affected me. They made me feel so much better. I feel differently about things now. Thank you."
I was in the right place at the right time and said the right thing to affect at least one person's life. I am so thankful to have had the opportunity.
And when I woke up Thursday morning, I felt like a new person.
I feel like a new person now that Wednesday is over.
Wednesday was the last day of school with students.
Wednesday was the day of the speech that, for months, I had been working on and preparing for, and for which I did not feel adequately prepared at all. But then, I don't know what I could have done to feel more prepared.
All day Wednesday, I was in a panic...was my speech too long at twenty minutes? Should I cut some? Does it make sense? Will it sound stupid? And the worst - will I even make it through? The first time I practiced it for real, in my classroom, by myself, I had teared up at the end. What would I do as I delivered the speech in a room full of people?
I practiced many more times, still not feeling that it was enough, but at twenty minutes a pop, I could only do it so many times. The first time through was the only time in which choking up was involved.
That evening, as I prepared dinner for the kids and my mother-in-law (who was going to be watching them while John and I were at the banquet), I went through the speech one last time. Too late for any changes by that point. We left (with Cortlan happily playing, and Everly crying) and headed to the banquet hall.
I took a few deep breaths and we were ready to go in. I saw the podium where I was soon to be delivering my speech...into a microphone...which somehow amplified the nervousness I was feeling. We made small talk, greeted some wonderful former teachers and friends, ate dinner.
As we clipped through the program at a pace not nearly slow enough, we eventually got to the key note speaker - me.
Ok, I am going to be fine. I can do this. It is just a speech and these people are all so nice and are on my side with this. What's the worst that can happen? It will be over soon. Be confident. Be strong. Be enthusiastic. Be inpirational. Take control.
I listened to my introduction, which was a bit surreal. Were they talking about me? I approached the podium, said my thanks and good evening, and began.
In my head I was confident. In my head, I was ready for this, and knew that it was a wonderful opportunity, and that I was strong. But my body gave a completely different message. My stomach quivered. My hands shook. Suddenly, I had to pee. The words that came out of my mouth were right, but they even surprised me by their tremble.
Deep breath. Keep going.
I gained momentum. I started to feel better. And then came the line about 1/3 of the way into my speech (a line, incidentally, that didn't catch me off guard through any of the many practice speeches) in which I mention my love for my children. The tears began. I ignored them, thinking they would be short lived and that I would quickly recover. Nope. The gate had been opened. I was laying it all out there at this point.
I pressed on, and recovered briefly, before the tears began again. I made a joke out of it, referencing that this was not the panic attack that I mentioned at the beginning of the speech, and at another time, laughing through the tears, saying, "What is wrong with me??!" The audience laughed with me when I hoped they would.
I could hardly see who I was talking to, partially because of the tears, partially because it was as if my mind and body were in two different places, completely disconnected from one another in thought and action. I hardly stole a glance at the table where my husband sat, for fear that would make my emotional reaction worse.
My mouth said the words, and I was paying attention and focused on what I was doing, but yet there was this other part of my mind...What the heck is going on right now? Why are these tears not stopping? Why do I have no control??!
I did notice a few people pull out tissues, a few others slyly wipe their eyes with the side of their hands. Are they crying, too??
I got to the last part of my speech - the part where I had gotten emotional as I practiced. I knew this wouldn't be good.
Smiling, I whispered through tears into the microphone. I felt I should prepare them. This part is going to be tough for me.
It was. I took it line by line. I wanted to be able to speak clearly enough for them to understand what I was saying. The tears fell harder. I ended. Congratulations, I said. It was over.
This was either a really good speech, or I just embarassed the hell out of myself.
I got to the table, feeling humble, as the mother of the valedictorian handed me a tissue as I walked past.
I sat down. John put his hand on me and told me I did great. Then leaned over and whispered in my ear, "You made me cry." The teachers that I sat with complimented me.
I felt relief wash over me. I felt like I had just accomplished something huge. It was something I had dreaded, but knew I had to do. I still wasn't sure whether the speech was good, but I felt like I was on top of the world.
On our way out of the banquet hall, a girl who was being honored at the banquet stopped me. "Thank you so much," she said. "Really. That meant so much to me. I feel like I am you, and the things you said really affected me. They made me feel so much better. I feel differently about things now. Thank you."
I was in the right place at the right time and said the right thing to affect at least one person's life. I am so thankful to have had the opportunity.
And when I woke up Thursday morning, I felt like a new person.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Ch-ch-ch-changes
Ok, so I know I have said this before, but I am not good at dealing with change.
And you would think that being able to recognize your weaknesses would be a good thing.
But, I have recently realized that, as if the "not good at dealing with change" component of my personality isn't bad enough, knowing about this fault can be downright crippling.
Because now, when I am faced with change, I have a whole new set of questions and feelings and confusions. Because now, when I feel that familiar unsettled feeling, I am forced to wonder: is it because I am just uncomfortable with change? Or is it that this particular change is a bad one and I should feel uncomfortable?
I am dealing with this in a very overt way as we make decisions regarding childcare. Am I just afraid to make a change? Or am I uncertain/scared/uncomfortable because it would be a bad move? Ugh. The chess game of life.
So, anyway, while I am struggling with what seems at this moment to be a very important decision regarding change, I decided to improve on my weakness by making a less important change...the design of my blog. At least this one can be reversed with a click of a button if I decide it was the wrong decision, or if the feedback is negative. Please let me know what you think. About all of this.
C'mon. It has been a long time since I have had a comment. :)
And you would think that being able to recognize your weaknesses would be a good thing.
But, I have recently realized that, as if the "not good at dealing with change" component of my personality isn't bad enough, knowing about this fault can be downright crippling.
Because now, when I am faced with change, I have a whole new set of questions and feelings and confusions. Because now, when I feel that familiar unsettled feeling, I am forced to wonder: is it because I am just uncomfortable with change? Or is it that this particular change is a bad one and I should feel uncomfortable?
I am dealing with this in a very overt way as we make decisions regarding childcare. Am I just afraid to make a change? Or am I uncertain/scared/uncomfortable because it would be a bad move? Ugh. The chess game of life.
So, anyway, while I am struggling with what seems at this moment to be a very important decision regarding change, I decided to improve on my weakness by making a less important change...the design of my blog. At least this one can be reversed with a click of a button if I decide it was the wrong decision, or if the feedback is negative. Please let me know what you think. About all of this.
C'mon. It has been a long time since I have had a comment. :)
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
These days...
Everly is trying so hard to talk, and I find myself wishing she could. But once she does, we enter into a whole new phase of life, never to return to babyhood again. Say 'Cortlan'! She says, "Coaa-ahhh!" Say 'shoes'! She says "shhhhsss". And quite often, from the backseat of the car or from the high chair, we hear a very clear, "uhhhhh-ohhhhh," as she accidentally (or more often, on purpose) drops something. (Her lips pucker into the cutest little "o" shape.) She laughs at her brother and teases him in the car as she tries to hand him something and then pulls it away at the last second. She tries to get me to chase her after she is undressed and ready for a bath, laughing the whole time. She loves to be tickled. She loves to catch a ball. She is amazingly surefooted and loves to dance.
Cortlan has become a little boy. He has lost all aspects of being a baby or toddler. And sometimes that surprises me. I remember writing the post about him moving to preschool in February. In the way that he has changed since, that seems like two lifetimes ago. He has developed his language and enunciation skills. He has become more confident in some ways, giving a loud, "hi" to a neighbor from afar, but not in others, as he still clings to my leg in new situations. He smiles and giggles, makes spaceships out of swiffers, and wants to be a fireman-doctor when he grows up. He says, "Awwww. Mannnnnn." when I say something that disappoints him. He asks me, "Can we just have a stay at home day today?" He says, "You know what? We haven't played play-doh in a long time!?" He tells me he loves me a lot.
How can we want so badly for our kids to grow up, while simultaneously want so badly for them to be little forever?
Cortlan has become a little boy. He has lost all aspects of being a baby or toddler. And sometimes that surprises me. I remember writing the post about him moving to preschool in February. In the way that he has changed since, that seems like two lifetimes ago. He has developed his language and enunciation skills. He has become more confident in some ways, giving a loud, "hi" to a neighbor from afar, but not in others, as he still clings to my leg in new situations. He smiles and giggles, makes spaceships out of swiffers, and wants to be a fireman-doctor when he grows up. He says, "Awwww. Mannnnnn." when I say something that disappoints him. He asks me, "Can we just have a stay at home day today?" He says, "You know what? We haven't played play-doh in a long time!?" He tells me he loves me a lot.
How can we want so badly for our kids to grow up, while simultaneously want so badly for them to be little forever?
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