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Birthday Season

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Lucy, Max and Harper have the fortune of all being born within two weeks of each other. Max is the first on January 28th and then Harper on February 9th and then Lucy on February 21st.  This wasn’t a problem when they were small and willing to combine parties but now that they are older – with separate friends and separate interests – well, this February came pretty close to killing me.  I would love to write a blog post about each of them, but even that seems like too much.  Instead,  I submit a brief paragraph about each, in honor of their birthdays.

LUCY

I’m afraid my sweetheart that you have the misfortune of being exactly like your mother. As you grow up this comparison cannot be ignored.  Unfortunately, we share the good and bad qualities.  You are smart, a reader, stubborn, competitive, overly dramatic, a loyal friend, logical thinker, approval seeker and naturally prone to worry.  You are me and I am you.

However, there are some things that are uniquely you – that no other person can claim.  You have started to sing – quietly and when you don’t think anybody is listening – your voice is sweet and strong.  You are quite artistic and love to color and craft and create things (I’m secretly hoping that this turns into a love of cooking).  You like to make people laugh and indeed are quite the “life of the party” when you are with your friends.

Most of all, you are the child that nobody thought I could have and therefore are a miracle. A strong, beautiful, brave miracle.

MAX

You turned six years old this year but it is rather irrelevant since I still think of you as being four.  When your sister was this age I expected her to be reading, and writing and solving complex equations.  But with you, well, I just want to keep you little.

The good news is that you are a bit on the short side for your age and your subtle speech impediment allows me to continue to think of you as my baby boy. However, I can tell that you aren’t going to allow me to hold on to this illusion for much longer.

You started Kindergarten this year and your zeal for school has left me a bit behind. You have not shed a single tear about leaving home — leaving Mom.  You LOVE all the friends you have made and your teacher (Mrs. Kerby) and everything related to being at school. You love lunch and music, and gym and recess.  You openly admit that you are neither the smartest kid in your class nor the best behaved.  You are beautifully average in every way.

HARPER

You are the child that I don’t understand.  You are nothing like me. You are sweet and energetic and strong as an ox.  You play hard – sleep hard – and aren’t easily persuaded to do things you don’t fundamentally want to do.  You laugh hard and deep and are a child of willful passions.  You still refuse to wear socks.  You are vocal about your clothing choices, frequently rip off you diaper for no reason and do not hesitate to throw a punch.  You are talking up a storm and even though few people understand you, you don’t hesitate to just talk louder.

However, like your sister, you are the child that was not to be. You were my “late in life” child”, my “you can’t be 40 child”.  And when your little hand finds its way into mine and you nudge me along to join in your fun I realize how blessed I am to have you.  I am inextricably intertwined into Lucy’s life due to our similarities but with you Harper – well, I’m just glad I got an invitation.  You have allowed me to be a part of your life and I will enjoy every moment you choose to give me.

Family Life

And Then The Cat Died

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David and I adopted Cosmo in 2001, shortly after we bought our first house.  A small grey short hair that we named after Cosmo Kramer from Seinfeld.

Monday morning, as I got dressed, it occurred to me that I hadn’t filled his food bowl since Thursday and there was still the same amount of food.  I checked his litter box – no activity in there.  I then realized that Cosmo had stopped sleeping with us at night. Something was wrong.  I bolted out of the bathroom and hollered at David, “something is wrong with Cosmo.”  Cosmo had never been sick, had never had a health issue of any kind.  David sat up in bed, “are you sure?”  I was emphatic.  Call it mother’s instinct but I knew the cat was sick.  I quickly picked up the phone and called the vet for an appointment.  David helped me wrestle Cosmo’s little grey body into his carrier and off to the doctor we went.

The vet’s office was deceivingly clean and sterile.  Cosmo hunched down in his cage and the vet did his best to examine him.  After $500 in tests and several phone calls the sad news was delivered,  Cosmo had cancer and he was dying.  I sobbed.  It was so sudden. He never gave any clue that he was in discomfort or that something was wrong.  How could it have happened so fast?  The vet explained that cats are very good at hiding their illnesses and that Cosmo had probably been sick for a long time.

We sat the kids down and explained to them that Cosmo was very sick.  That it is the responsibility of us, as pet owners, to do what is right for our pet.  That Cosmo wasn’t eating. He wasn’t drinking and it was best to help him along in his journey.  Lucy took it the hardest.  She burst into sobs and wailing exclaimed; “NOOOO!!! I DON’T WANT COSMO TO DIE!! I LOVE COSMO!!!”  I gently explained that none of us want Cosmo to die but that now is the time to be brave.  Lucy wasn’t buying it.  “I CAN’T BE BRAVE! I’M ONLY SEVEN YEARS OLD, I HAVEN’T LIVED LONG ENOUGH AND DONE ENOUGH THINGS TO BE BRAVE. I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO DRIVE A CAR! AND NOW I’M THE ONLY PERSON AT SCHOOL THAT DOESN’T HAVE A PET!”  It was hard to argue with those emotions.  It wasn’t really fair to ask a seven year old to be brave about the death of the only family pet she had ever known.

Max was more circumspect and after a moment of sadness quietly asked, “when do we get a dog? Like a month? a week? How long do we have to wait?” Max tried to comfort Lucy with the idea that we could now get a puppy and that seemed like a fair trade to him.  Lucy did not find this comforting.

Harper followed Cosmo around the house saying ‘meow’ and offering him Oreos.

In the end, Cosmo went quietly and with dignity.  We spent his last two days showering him with love and tuna fish.  He’s gone, and now my feet are cold at night and our house is a bit more empty.  Well, at least until we get Max a dog.

Personal

Trail of Tears

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I can hear Harper crying in her crib. She’s angry. She doesn’t want to go to sleep. She doesn’t want to be held. She wants to explore. But I’m tired and sad, and the day is over and I need her to give me this space. So she will stay in her crib and she will be angry.

There is no time to be sad and so the tears pounce when they can. The trail of sadness continues at the Morley house with yet another loss — a coworker of mine.  A fellow educator who was tragically killed in a car accident on the first day of school.  None of it makes sense.

When somebody you love dies at an “advanced” age you are sad, but you are also grateful that they lived such a long life and had the opportunity to either fulfill or come to peace with their dreams.  If someone dies from an illness, regardless of age, you are sad, but illness and death go hand in hand and seem a natural and expected way to leave this life. But when somebody has their life stolen from them – when their dreams are ripped away by another person, either by purpose or accident, there is no sense in it.  There is no way to make those pieces of information fit together in your head.  No matter how hard I try I can’t.

Keye’s killer was arrested.  A crack head with a history of robberies and thieving.  He will be brought to trial and I have confidence he will see justice. We cheered that an arrest had been made but it is a hollow victory because the one thing we all want we can’t ever have.  This man, this thief of life, can’t give us Keye back.

I miss them all.

The irony about being a person who writes, studies writing and loves good writers is that you learn that the best writing comes from the strongest emotion and the strongest emotion is pain – not love.  We, as humans, feel more alive when we hurt than when we are happy.  We are more aware of our delicate human nature, of the value of the things around us, when we are in pain.

I drove to work this morning in an epic downpour. As I slowly made my way down the expressway with 18-wheelers and teenagers and guys on their cell phones I thought of how quickly something could go wrong and I could be dead.  But nothing went wrong, and I’m not dead.  Instead, I’m sitting at my kitchen table, listening to the fire crackle and shedding tears for those who weren’t quite so lucky.

 

Personal

Suckerpunch

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How was your holiday season? Filled with presents and family? Really? Yeah, I hate you.  My holiday was overshadowed by death.  The ultimate party pooper. I’ve avoided writing this post because I know, in the end, I will be an emotional wreck and wishing you all could just read my mind (which would make blogging so much easier).

My Uncle Marty died.

He wasn’t really my uncle, but since I wouldn’t know my actual uncle if he came up to me on the street and offered me free chocolate or a cruise to the Caribbean, Marty was it. My mother and Marty had grown up together – gone to the same high school.  He married my mother’s best friend; Sandy.   My Uncle Marty and Aunt Sandy had two children, Sue and Rich. Rich was my age and I can’t really remember a time in my life when Marty, Sandy, Rich and Sue weren’t a part of it.  They have always been my only relations on my mother’s side.

Aunt Sandy & Uncle Marty

Marty was a man who was larger than life.  People say that, I know, it’s cliche. However, in Marty’s case it was true.  He was loud and passionate and angry.  He didn’t just say “hi” in a calm, gentle fashion, but would grab you, hug you, kiss you and embrace you with the feeling that this was the first and last time he would ever see you.  He gave generously and hurt deeply.  He would tease you, chide you and poke at you, but always with a smile and a twinkle that told you that he loved you.

Marty was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer about a year ago.  It sucked. He’s gone now, and it isn’t fair.

But life isn’t fair and this was made abundantly clear to David and I when on Christmas Eve we received the news that our dear friend, Keye Ratley, was shot and killed.  He was 35.

Keye, his girlfriend, his brother and his girlfriend, were all leaving a night club together, when Keye’s baby brother got jumped by two muggers.  Keye ran in to pull the men off of his  brother when the muggers turned around and shot Keye in the abdomen.

Keye Ratley

Keye had a quiet confidence about himself.  A gentle demeanor that belied his wicked sense of humor and creative spirit.  He was a friend to all and an enemy to none.  He was a slave to technology with an absolute obsession with FourSquare and Facebook that left every person feeling like they were a part of his life. He was also a man who knew how to wear a handlebar mustache. David spent three years sitting right next to Keye at work, eating lunch together, talking about the latest Apple products.  Only hours before Keye’s death David and he had been exchanging text messages about a new iPhone app.

We buried Keye on Tuesday – his family, friends, coworkers.  David and I have cried a thousand tears and I know we have thousands more still yet to come. It sucks.

I don’t have words of wisdom. I haven’t learned some great lesson from all of this. People close to me have died. They are gone and that is that.

Family Life, Kids

Letter From Santa

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In an effort to remedy the psychological damage I inflicted after threatening no visit from Santa Claus I crafted and mailed the following letter to my children.  Let’s hope it saves me at least two trips to the therapist’s office.

 

Dear Lucy & Max,

It is my pleasure to inform you that after careful review of your behavior and attitude during the year 2011 that Santa Claus has decided to add you to the following list:

GOOD

We would like to request that on Christmas Eve you place the following items on a plate close to the fireplace:

 

  1. A small cup of milk (cow and no less than 2%)
  2. Three small iced cookies (please no chocolate)
  3. Three small carrots (peeled)

In addition, we would like to invite you to visit Santa Claus at a store location near you.  Every year we strive to deliver toys that meet each child’s wishes and your visit to Santa Claus is an important step in guaranteeing our continued toy success.

We have also noted that you will be staying at your Nana’s house (Max & Carolyn Morley Denton, TX) and would like your Christmas presents delivered there instead of your normal home location.  If this is an error please contact our delivery team immediately with the correct address ([email protected]).

We would like to thank you for your continued support and belief in our organization and we look forward to hearing from you again in 2012.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

 

Lauri Steingarten

Senior Elf

Department of List Management

Family Life, Kids

The Santa Claus Threat

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I was sick of listening to them bicker. Lucy. Max. Both of them going at it like a couple of chickens in a coop.  “She’s bossing me!” “He’s pulling my hair!”  I was about to pull my own hair if they didn’t stop.  I yelled across the kitchen, “I’m DONE! MAX, GO SIT ON THE STAIRS! LUCY, GO SIT IN MY ROOM! I WANT YOU TWO SEPARATED AND QUIET!”

What I did next can only be put in the category of dangerous thoughtlessness.  I was rash. I didn’t think. I shouldn’t have gone there.

I picked up my phone and called Santa Claus (aka; my sister Stacy).  “Santa? Yes, I’m calling to let you know that Lucy and Max have been fighting an awful lot and I’m not sure they should receive presents this year. Uh-huh. Okay, I will call back if their behavior improves”.  I hung up.

I could already hear Max sobbing on the stairs and muffled between tears he said, “but I want presents for Christmas!”  Lucy bolted out of the bedroom her breathing quick and shallow, tears pouring down, her face pale and the words flying out of her mouth as fast as she could spew them; “WHY DID YOU CALL SANTA? I’M SOOOOOO EMBARRASSED!! HE’S ALWAYS BEEN SOOOOO NICE TO ME. EVERY YEAR OF MY LIFE HE’S BEEN NICE TO ME AND NOW HE’S ANGRY AT ME CUZ I’VE BEEN BAD!! I DON’T EVEN WANT TO GO VISIT HIM NOW BECAUSE I’M TOO EMBARRASSED TO SEE HIM BECAUSE HE IS GOING TO BE SOOOO ANGRY AT ME.”  The sobs coming fast, her breathing becoming more shallow, panic flooding her eyes – I started to worry she would pass out.

“Lucy, come here and sit down.  Max, you too.  Now listen,  Max, you can’t go around pulling your sisters hair and being mean.  Lucy, you can’t say things to Max that you know are going to make him angry.  If you two start behaving like you are supposed to I will call Santa back.”

Max’s tears instantly stopped.  He wiped his face, took a deep breath and declared; “Mama, I’m going to start being good RIGHT NOW!”

Lucy launched into more panicked filled sobs:  “IT DOESN’T MATTER. HE IS ALREADY MAD AT ME AND I’M SO EMBARRASSED AND I BET I’M THE ONLY KID IN SCHOOL WHOSE HAD TO HAVE A CALL MADE TO SANTA AND NOW HE WON’T BRING US PRESENTS!!”  At this point, the panic, fear and shear anxiety on her face, combined with the shallow breathing was making me very concerned that she was going to pass out.  “Lucy, you MUST calm down.  Breathe.  I’m sure you can improve your behavior and Santa will bring you presents. You’ve always been a good girl. I don’t think you need to worry that much”.  I thought I was starting to calm her down when the sobs kicked up again and she wailed; “I BET ALL THE ELVES KNOW AND THERE ARE LIKE THOUSANDS OF THEM! WAAAAAAAAAAA!!!”  Out of this chaos of emotion Max quietly asked; “Hey, can we text Santa?” and without hesitating I said “sure!”

Me: “Lucy is VERY upset and embarrassed”

Santa/Stacy:  “The elves think she deserves a second chance”

Me: “Max wants to know if he gets one too”

Santa/Stacy: “Max needs to not fight with Lucy but he gets a second chance if he promises to be good”

Me: “Max wants to know how big are the elves and Lucy says she is too embarrassed to see you because she thinks you will be mad”

Santa/Stacy: “Eleves are 3ft 4 inches”

Santa/Stacy: “Lucy shouldn’t be afraid to see me. I’ve seen her every year since she was little and I would miss her.  Ho ho ho.”

Me: “Max and Lucy say they love you”

Santa/Stacy: “I love them too. I have to go feed the reindeer now. Good night.

Calm returned to the house after that, but it was an unsettled awkward calm.  Lucy was not fully convinced that she would be returned to the “good” list and I was left feeling guilty and emotionally drained.  I’m sure we will need to make another follow-up call to insure both children have  made it on the “good” list since I can tell Lucy is still worried.

And that is how I managed to scar my child for life.

Teaching/School

Private vs. Public vs. Home

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As a college professor I frequently get asked if I can tell the difference between public school, private school and home school children.  The short answer is “yes” but the real answer is far more complex.  I teach freshman composition and this gives me a view of students fresh from the arms of their high school or home.

Private School

Of the three groups these students are by far the most consistently prepared and advanced as incoming freshmen.  They all have experience writing a research paper, are well disciplined and don’t flinch at the prospect of the work load assigned to them.  They are less likely to be “whiners” and to provide hundreds of excuses as to why they didn’t get their work done.   Most find freshmen composition easy and breeze through it.

However, I also teach a junior level communications course and I can assure you that any difference between private and public school children by the time they reach that level has evaporated.  Private school might provide students with an edge the first year of college but by their sophomore or junior year that advantage has disappeared.

Public School

My public school students are a mixed bag and I find that their level of preparedness for college can be equally contributed to their school district and their family.  Some students come from excellent schools but without a home environment that encourages reading, education and proper study skills this student will arrive ill-prepared.  Some of my public school students function at the same level as my private school students.  My public school students that struggle the most are usually those that come from a lower socioeconomic background with a family who themselves did not achieve education past high school.

Home School

This is the most surprising section of students and the one people are most eager to hear about.  My home school students are also a mixed bag and perform equal to my public school students.  This also falls on the family.  Some people do an excellent job home schooling and others, well, not so much.   Some home school kids arrive in my class with oodles of self-discipline and excellent study skills.  These students also perform equal to my private school students and my excellent public school students.  HOWEVER, there is an equal number of home school kids who have never written a research paper, lack all signs of self-discipline, and have big gaps in their education.

Many times the story I hear is that “Mommy” never pushed them, did the work for them, let them not do the parts that were hard or didn’t feel that part was “important”.  These kids arrive in class asking for assistance on EVERYTHING.  They give up at the slightest sign of difficulty and don’t understand why I’m not willing to hold their hand the entire way through class.

So again, it comes down to family environment.  What is being encouraged and supported within the family unit.

Conclusion

If you want the school to insure that your child is prepared for college without you putting any effort into it then I suggest you place them in private schools.  If you live in an area that has a good public school and you don’t mind putting in a little extra effort at home, keeping your kids on task and staying on top of their education then public schools are just fine.  And finally, if you enjoy home schooling by all means pursue it but learn to separate the “teacher” from the “parent”.  Hold your kid to tough standards, let them fail and learn, and teach them to face their challenges. The bottom line is that education starts and ends at home.  A school environment can help but it is never the total solution.

Family Life, Kids

Thanksgiving II

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If you are a parent of healthy children you are obligated to be thankful.  The few times my kids have been seriously ill has shown me a glimpse into the world of parents with chronically and seriously ill children. I cannot imagine living that nightmare.  First and foremost this year I am thankful for healthy, normal children.

I am also thankful for the uniqueness of each of my children. None of them are exactly like me or David but have hints, and traces of each parent mixed with their own magical combination of attributes and character flaws.

Lucy

I am so thankful that Lucy is a reader.  She is a voracious reader, like her mother, and has a beautiful curiosity about the world.  She is not a person of blind faith, or fairy tale beliefs. Rather, she is a child of sensible conclusions and reasonable thinking. I am also very thankful that she has a strong sense of right and wrong and quickly defends herself and her friends in the face of elementary school bullies and social meanness which is so often seen on the school yard.  I have seen her be a loyal friend and sister again and again.

Max

I am most thankful for Max’s gentle spirit and tender heart.  We hear so many stories about boys being mean, aggressive and generally ill-tempered.  Although Max won’t hesitate to throw a swing if his sister is bothering him he is also equally quick to offer help, a hand, or a hug.  Max is kind to everybody,  always uses his manners, and is openly affectionate to friends and family.  I’m proud that Max takes after his Daddy with his kindness and generosity.  He will be a blessing in the lives of many people.

Harper

At Harper’s young age I’m most thankful for her health.  Giving birth at 40, and after a miscarriage, makes you more grateful for health than anything else.  Even at her young age  you can sense her jovial spirit – that same good hearted sense of humor that her daddy possesses.  Her hearty laugh and sense of silliness is something I suspect she will always portray.

Finally, I’m thankful that I’ve been given the gift of parenthood.  I’m thankful that I have been given front row seats to watch the lives of these three amazing people unfold. And I’m most thankful that I get to watch with my best friend sitting next to me.