Hit or Miss

Some days are a hit: everything goes well, the lunch is packed, eaten and enjoyed, the friends are friendly, fun and funny, and the world is a happy little fishbowl of harmoniously swimming guppies.

Other days, everything SUCKS. I have starred in both of these lately.

Having two little ones is a challenge, and God bless those with more. Two littles and a full-time job PLUS planning a dance production, attempting to prep/clean up for the holidays, trying to get ahead with new technology and basically trying to SURVIVE is straight chaos. Unmitigated, step-over-the-landmine-if-you-can CHAOS.

Case in point: The Halloween decorations that I put up (early, mind you) were painstakingly taken down and put in the upstairs hallway, the limbo before the attic. They are still there. Thanksgiving is in one week. I have had no time to put them into the actual attic.

Time has been flying by so quickly, and while I do feel like I am accomplishing a lot, sleep is falling by the wayside. I haven't slept a normal night since, oh, August. And it's taking a toll.

Like, if anyone asks me a question that requires a complex answer, I will SHANK them. But in an attempt to stay eloquent:

As one who is lucky enough to be a full-time teacher during the year and a full-time stay-at-home-mom during the summer, I have experienced the joys and trials of both. And while I have always been upfront about the fact that being a SAHM is harder than my job, yesterday was an exception. Yesterday, I spent my workday prepping and planning for Parent-Teacher Conferences, which is usually not a big deal; the same types of parents asking the same types of questions: "How do we motivate him?" "Why won't she stop talking?" and while every student truly is special and unique, their age group brings about certain factions of questions. So it's a fairly easy, albeit repetitive, evening. 

So while the familiarity of my 20th PT Conference was a relief, the fact that I wouldn't see my kids was a bummer. John is in a deliciously huggy stage, and while Em's behavior of late indicates that she's growing into a strong-willed little lady, she's still my redheaded angel, and I wanted to hang out with her. 

But I missed it. I missed a whole day. Yes, I went home during my break, nursed my son and made my daughter dinner. Yes, I read her new "book," listened to her stories about school, made her favorite sandwich and snacks for tomorrow's lunch and helped her with her sticker book. I helped her choose a movie and comfy pjs and a cute tv show to watch until her Daddy got home. Yes, I kissed them before I left, told them I loved them, and promised I'd be back soon.

But I missed everything else. I missed whatever Em and her babysitter (who I adore) were laughing about when I came home, I missed her smile when she got out of school, I missed her crazy after-school excitement when she's bursting to tell me the latest thing Madison/Addison said/wore in class. I missed putting her to bed, and hearing her sleepy "Love you, Mama" right before she falls asleep. I missed Chubby's latest mischievous foray into the snack cabinet. I missed it. Missed it all.

There are times when parenthood is a hit or miss. Sometimes I hit all the marks and feel like Supermom. Other days I feel like I've been hit by a bus because I missed the moments. 

I drove home knowing I'd had a successful workday, but the buzz wore off knowing I'd be coming home to to a sleeping house. Luckily, John was awake, watching tv with his dad, a chubby mini-shadow of his future self. He didn't turn to look at me when I got in the door, but when he heard my voice, he ran to me with his arms in the air. And even though I was exhausted, even though I had spent the last five hours talking to other people about their children and wanted to get out of my suit and into my bed, I picked him up, and held him close.

13 Things

So the Facebook world is sharing this new trend: here are some facts about yours truly.

1.     I have to write every day; recently it’s been in a blog that I’m considering sharing called Marlethemom. But it’s not quite ready yet. I’ll keep you posted. (haha - guess you figured that one out!)

2.     I’m a chronic and compulsive list-maker. I have lists of “things to do” “songs/steps to choreograph/to” “people to reach out to” and about a million other crazy ones. I make them all the time, every day, and I have a special notebook with just lists in it.

3.     I love paper, notes, post-its, cards, stationery, pens, and anything to do with books and words. In another life, I own a paeperie in Paris that I tend to at night after I dance at the Paris Opera Ballet. (Since this is my fantasy life, I also have really great hair.)

4.     I believe in heaven; I believe that babies choose us as parents, and I believe I will see all my loved ones again one day. Some days that belief gets me through the fact that my grandfathers never met my husband or my children.

5.     The fact that my husband proposed to me in Paris is one of the most poetic things that has ever happened in my life. I feel confident that when I am old, I will remember that day with clarity, though I might forget my own name. Ditto for our wedding day.

6.     Anyone who knows me already knows how much I love my job; I feel called to be a teacher and I am proud and happy to be one every day. (Not ALL day every day, but every day.) I think teaching is an honor and a privilege, and I feel lucky to get to know some very cool people when they’re just kids. I’m forever indebted to the three men who gave me my start in teaching. Also, the classes of 2000 and 2010 will always have a special place in my heart – I started teaching when 2000 were in sixth grade, and for the seven years I knew the class of 2010, I met my husband, got engaged, got married, got pregnant and had my daughter. 

7.     If I wasn’t a teacher, I’d be a dancer, but in my dream life I’d also be longer and leaner. I am so happy that my daughter has my husband’s build. I will never push her to be a dancer, but I am thrilled that she loves it, and that she already has the physical gifts if she wants them.

8.     My love for The Great Gatsby is deep and real! Even though I can quote almost the entire book, I love when my students point out something I didn’t know. I could read it all day and I think the language is beautiful.

9.     When I was 21, I competed in a national dance championship in Virginia Beach; my grandfather was in the hospital, nearing the end of his battle with cancer. Before I went onstage, there was a blackout in the building except for the light I was standing under. I felt like it was a sign from God. I asked Him for help and I got it; I gave the performance of my life, won my division, and brought the trophy home to my grandfather.

10. There are certain songs and scenes that never fail to make me cry (happy or sad tears), no matter how many times I’ve seen, read or heard them. John Proctor’s speech at the end of The Crucible, the end of The Great Gatsby, the end of Steel Magnolias, the music I choreographed Frank McCarthy’s tribute to, the music when the Christmas tree grows in The Nutcracker…the list goes on…

11. I have ridiculously sharp and accurate hearing that seems to get better with age. I hear EVERYTHING, from whispers to noises to full conversations, even from the other side of the room. My students try to test me with this skill, and I always catch them. That being said, it’s not a gift I asked for, and I often end up hearing things I DO NOT want to know.

12. I have a deep affinity and respect for anything having to do with the ocean, and I feel most at peace there. One of my dreams is to have a home on Martha’s Vineyard, which is my happy place. I wear an anchor around my neck every day for about a hundred different reasons, and loving the ocean is one of them. Having ancestors who were fishermen is another.

13. I love my children deeply and fiercely and am amazed that I physically created them. It blows my mind.

Dear Lord, this is...

...not easy. Thus far, my kids have destroyed three rooms in the house, and I'm hiding upstairs until I hear one of them call my name.

And there it is. Later!

From Mom to Mom

Being a teacher yields so many gifts: being around young, enthusiastic, energetic people all day; getting to talk about the things I love and hopefully can inspire others to feel the same way; the list goes on. But one of my favorite parts of teaching is seeing who these people are going to be one day. So while I would not be so bold as to "friend" a former student on Facebook, I am always happy to accept their requests, and to see who they have become. 

The class of 2000 was always so special to me. As a new teacher, fresh out of college, I was given a one-week chance to prove myself and my potential to a class of sixth-graders while their teacher was on leave. I was twenty-two, and they were twelve. That ten-year gap seemed enormous then, but not quite large enough! To be honest, I was as excited as I was terrified. Luckily, I not only survived the week, I enjoyed it. I was hired, and managed to teach this group of students as seventh-, ninth- and eleventh-graders. Needless to say, I will remember all of them, and in a way, I feel like we grew up together. 

And watching them grow up has been fantastic; I've attended their weddings, held their babies, applauded their many successes and prayed for their stumbles. And then one of my students gave birth to a beautiful little boy who looked just like his Mama and Uncle - same olive skin, same smile, same hair, same beautiful eyes - and I watched the student I once knew grow into a mom, and a voice and an advocate for all moms of babies with Down Syndrome, which is one very small piece of who this little sweetie is. As I watched her October posts bring awareness to all of us during this month, I wrote this to her and posted it on her Facebook wall.

From Mom to Mom: Dear Danielle,

As a mother, and your former teacher, all I can say is how incredibly proud I am of you. I hope I’m not overstepping a line by posting this on fb, but I wanted to tell you that I think you are amazing, and I'm sure I’m not the only one!

When you were in high school, you were bold, bright, and beautiful. You were also blessed with talent, intelligence, and confidence, which is a powerful combination. When you graduated, I thought, “That girl is going to make the world listen to her.” I had no idea how true this would be!

I’ve learned something every day from reading your fb posts. You have educated us, informed us, and reminded us that names, labels, and diagnoses really don’t mean what we think they mean, and that love can change anything. You will always be an educator, and most importantly, Drew’s advocate. True, his challenges will be your challenges, but his triumphs will be your triumphs, because you taught him and encouraged him every step of the way.

I am so happy that you have been blessed with the joy of motherhood, but more than that, I am so happy for baby Drew. I believe in my heart that all babies come from heaven, and that they choose us as their parents. I believe Drew chose you for his mom. And I believe it was the first, and certainly not the last, brilliant and remarkable thing he did.

I’m sorry I will not be able to walk by your side for Drew’s Crew, but I will always be in your corner!

Marla Pascucci-Byrne


The moral of the story: Say what you mean. Life is short. I was so proud of her and wanted to take a few minutes to tell her so. There are times in life when I haven't said what I was thinking, or the writer in me took over and kept saying "It's just not right," and the revisions have taken forever, and the moment has passed me by. But this time I wrote from the heart. Sure, I double and triple checked it, but I wanted her to get it while she was in the moment. I'll always be happy I did.

My Girl

How is it possible that I have a five-year-old daughter? It's true. Tonight at 12:33 marks the 5th birthday of my firstborn. I am amazed that I could love someone this much. But I am not perfect, and I make mistakes. So here is my flawed letter to my beautiful girl:

Dearest Emerson,

Tomorrow morning, you will be five years old. Mommy remembers everything about the day you were born - how excited and nervous I was, how tired and hopeful and crazy and scared and happy. How I wanted so much to see your little face, and how you turned out to look so different than I imagined, and how perfect and beautiful you were from the very first moments you were here. I will always love you with everything that I am,and I will always be here to support you and your dreams with love and strength and a listening ear.

Age 4 brought a lot of changes for you.You got a new brother just about two months before your birthday last year, and it was a positive adjustment. You went to New York, Canada and Martha's Vineyard. You had your third dance recital, you went to Pre-K at Saint Joseph's in Wakefield and started Kindergarten at Saint Patrick's in Stoneham. You finished your time at Miss Eileen's. You were a flower girl in my cousin's wedding and you stole the show. You always, always, steal everyone's hearts, especially your Nanny. You said goodbye to your babysitter Jesse as she left for camp and then college, and you sent her letters to both places. When I leave for work in the morning, you run to the window to wave or open the door and yell, "I love you! I love you so much!"and some mornings I hide the tears so you can't see them. You had a birthday party at our house with a 'princess bouncy house," just like you wanted. 

Some days, Mommy is a great Mommy and makes you smile and laugh. Some days I am not. When you are old enough to read this, really read this, I will tell you about the days you made me crazy. About the days when I told you to get dressed for the twelfth time so we wouldn't be late. About the days when you wanted to hide under your covers and I had to dress you there. About the times when I got frustrated and yelled at you, and always ultimately made myself feel worse for upsetting you, but didn't know how to handle the situation better. About the times I had to referee you and your one-year-old brother. About the time I wrote a note to your teacher at school, telling her you had a little cold and packing you some nice little tissues, and you took it out of your folder and stuffed it into your backpack so she wouldn't see it. (You came clean later, but it was gutsy. You told me you "didn't want to be different" and I respect it. But wow.) About the weird dynamic that evolves between your Nanny, you and me when we are together, and how your Nanny feels I'm too hard on you, so she overcompensates by spoiling you, which makes me mad. About how sorry I am that I'm not as patient as I could be, and how I will strive to be the best Mommy I can be.

The world is here for you, and I want to give it to you with both of my hands. Tonight you told me I was "the best Mommy in the world" and I hope you always feel this way. I hope you always feel the love I have for you, and as we grow, we will grow together.

All my heart,

Mommy

Steps

My little, beautiful boy took his first steps today!!!!!

It started out like any ordinary day - hectic and stressful. To be honest, the nighttime routine is anything but relaxing, the sleeping hours and restless, and the morning chaos is unnerving. After a few weeks of this with some busy weekends in between, I have been TAXED.

And then, out of the blue, my little son stood at the couch, reached for me, and took three beautiful baby steps into my arms.

And suddenly, the world was a beautiful place to be.

Any day now

What a month - so much is happening. I can't even.

Okay, so here's a bulleted list:

• Em is in kindergarten and has more little things to do than I can handle. In addition to becoming a mom who packs lunch and snack every day, I now wash uniforms, lay out uniforms (down to the socks and undies, plus coordinating hair bows and headbands), check and empty school folders, put all over the completed papers into a nice binder, and generally attempt to manage the tornado of little assignments ("Bring a family photo! Bring three apples! What is the date of your Baptism?  Bring a photo of your Christening Day!") not to mention the barrage of invitations for birthday parties for children whose names I do not yet know and parents I have not yet met. It's EX.HAUS.TING.

• John is moving and grooving. In addition to his tiny little bottom teeth that started showing just before he turned one, he now has two top teeth that are poking out and looking exactly like his sister's. It's so cute I can't even describe it. He's cruising around the house and getting into everything: the cabinets under the sink, the (formerly) neatly folded t-shirt stacks in his sister's bottom drawer, my trash can. He is harder to nurse now, but I am incredibly proud of myself and of him for sticking with it so long. He is purely lovely and mischievous and I want to squeeze him all day.

Some days, life is heaven. Other days, it's another story. But seeing them look up at me makes think of a sweet moment I shared with my mom. I had asked her when she felt like a grown up, when she truly felt like she'd arrived on the doorstep of adulthood. I expected her to say something like, "When you graduated from college," or "When you got married" - but her response was something I had never expected.

"Any day now," she said, and smiled.

Amen.