"Mom, did you ever feel loneliness after we were born?"

When my youngest daughter recently asked me about giving birth and how it went, for a class she was taking, I decided to send her an email because I couldn't possibly explain it all by text message. Once the floodgates were open I was shocked to find myself back in those early days of motherhood. 

When I explained each of my three deliveries, how they differed, how they were the same, how I felt, what I wish had been different, etc., she then emailed back, "I can't believe you ate a whole block of cream cheese in one sitting!" and "Did you ever feel loneliness in the first year after we were born?"

It was really hard to write back. 

I never want my children to feel like things might have been "off" in their childhood, however the reality and sticky, messy part of parenting is that it isn't always easy.

What I discovered as I wrote the story of my journey into motherhood is it was harder than I like to remember. It's nature I suppose, how we survive those early years and somehow as time goes on and kids get easier we forget how really hard it all can be.

This is how I replied:

"Yes, I was lonely with our first especially because we moved away from home, to Idaho Falls 1 week after he was born and I didn’t know anyone but your dad who worked a lot. We moved to Salt Lake City when he was 4 months old and there were two ladies there that I’d known from dads work when we lived in Boise, so at least I had them but they weren’t very nice to me. They had kids and they were both overweight as a result and they were just mean about the fact that I wasn't. One of them left out these super tiny curio things all over her house and “taught” her kids not to touch them. Alex didn’t do well at her house.

We also lived near Steve and JoAnn but they didn’t have any kids so we didn’t get together often. I didn’t work outside the home and we were super poor and I could only shop on triple coupon days. I loved being a mom but I was so lonely for family and friends. I’m sure I was depressed looking back. One day JoAnn said that she couldn’t understand why I’d want to be home with a baby. It kind of hurt my heart because I felt like she thought I should be working and that what I was doing wasn't important. When she delivered Lindsay, her first, she called me crying and apologized and said she totally got it now.

I went to the Catholic church hoping to find fellowship and friends. No one ever approached me or talked to me and I was too shy to put myself out there. I thought having a baby with me would help, but it felt more lonely to be with people who I thought should be MY people in the heavily populated Mormon state I lived in but I left disappointed. Your dad didn’t go to church back then so again I felt isolated.

Before he was born I never understood how a parent could be abusive. I had one of those moments when he was about two months old and he wouldn’t stop crying that I looked at our balcony and thought about just tossing him off of it. I started to sob at the thought of it so I put him in his crib and went and took a shower and sobbed for about 30 minutes. I kept thinking that I now understood how bad things can happen and that I was lucky enough to have the capacity to problem solve that moment and do something to take care of myself. When I returned he was sleeping peacefully in his crib. I cried until he woke up and I could hold him again. I never had that again with any of you.

When we moved away from Salt Lake City he was just over a year. I realized I didn’t have anyone to call to say goodbye to. That broke my heart and I promised that I would never let that happen again. When we got to Reno, I joined the Welcome Wagon and became very involved because I recognized I needed a village and I’d gone way too long without one. A year later I was getting a divorce and moving back home."

So yes, I experienced loneliness as a new mother. Which could be part of why I built a village around myself with the other two. A place where I would never be lonely and I could help others who perhaps were, especially other new moms.

Happy mother's day to all moms, new, and old but especially to those experiencing loneliness right now.  

My Emily

My Emily was the direct result of my second marriage to my first husband. Details here.

My Emily

It's complicated but not really. We'd been apart for long enough and were excited to add to our family and knew that our kids would be six years apart as it was so off we went getting married a second time, and 11 months later Ms. Emily joined our brood.

She was a delight from the get-go. A good sleeper, often content and an overachiever. Her benchmarks were ridiculous. Sitting up alone at 4 1/2 months, walking at nine months, chattering in Emilish which means zero back sounds, a cute lisp and soft r's but boy could she talk. If you spoke Emilish you had insight into her active and inquisitive mind that never stopped. She was a complete delight and the apple of everyone's eyes.

Her grandmother used to say, "Emily will turn on you like a rabid dog." Yes, this perfect little princess had/has a temper, but as she will say, only when it's really important. She has a wealth of patience and will give many passes especially to those she loves, but when too much injustice or taking advantage of her good will ensues so does her volcanic reaction. One does not want to be on the receiving end of that wrath, but back to My Emily.

This little body contained prolonged bursts of energy followed by long needs for rest and quiet. She fought every nap I ever tried to give her and actually screamed daily until finally we decided to park her under my desk with a pillow, a blanket, a binky and a book. While this worked on occasion, more often than not, she was too afraid of missing something interesting or fun so she imposed her iron will upon herself to stay awake "just in case." then she crashed and burned and slept through each night as if her life depended on it...once she finally fell asleep.

She would reason and cajole and charm her family each evening to keep us busy with her. There were two things she loved most, interactions with others and clothes.

I read somewhere that a parent should use the things that a child is motivated by most to elicit desirable behavior. Emily's grandma, the one who lovingly called her a rabid dog also had a penchant for fancy, lacy dresses that she bought for each of her granddaughters. We treasured them for special occasions until one day I realized they were the key to Emily's motivation to stay in bed.

We allowed her to choose one each evening at bedtime and she would lay out her "project" consisting of most often a dress, tights, her undies, shoes, hair accessories etc. As long as she stayed in bed, she was able to wear her dress the next day. If not, the dress sadly went back in the closet and an outfit of my choosing; a pair of pants or overalls of course, were what she wore the following day. It worked like a charm.

Not much has changed. She is still my one that loves pretty clothes, that burns the candle at both ends, that never wants to sleep but when she finally does can sleep for days. She loves her family and friends so much that she sacrifices much to spend quality time with each and she embodies an old soul. Her heart is as big as her stunning smile and her inner beauty is equal to her outer beauty.

There was that brief period during high school that Emily AKA Emster had her Napoleon Dynamite phase. She wore moon boots, sweat pants, t-shirts from grade school summer camps and little makeup. Her friends were getting dolled up and working at attracting male attention while she attracted male friends with her smarts, her wit and her spunk to be brave enough to buck the system.

Boys and dresses and her inner diva did win out and she lost the moon boots and sweats and traded them for makeup, curling irons and perfume. It didn't matter. The boys still loved and still do the same things; her smarts, her wit and her spunk. The big heart and smile are compelling as well.

Entrepreneur and Philanthropist from day 1

She was a dancer, a bossy girl scout, a ski racer, participated in competitive speech and broadcasting competitions; took honors and AP courses. She had five broken bones as a young person due to roller blading, skiing, jumping on a trampoline, and most daringly, walking.
She started a hot chocolate stand on her own borrowing the money and paying me back every year, giving 50% to charity.

She helped me plan elaborate birthday parties and loves event planning even today. We have many a wonderful memory of fantastical birthdays and family events.

When she got older, she became our Spring Break baby as we always celebrated her birthday in places away from home to include Brundage and New Meadows, McCall, Targhee with dinner in a yurt along with a sleigh ride, Jerome, Florida, Sun Valley, Spain, and Hawaii. Yes Jerome was on that list of amazing places, but hey it's one of our favorite places and the hometown of half our family.

She went to the U of I for one year and met her best friend and moved home to be near her little sister and her family. She traded black and gold for orange and blue and with her usual determination wanted to live the college life, so got an internship and worked while going to school full time living in an apartment nearby. Extreme candle burning (at both ends) ensued and the elusive degree is close.

She now works for a nonprofit full time and makes us proud every day. That little bundle of femininity that landed at our doorstep 24 years ago has never ceased to amaze and delight. She is the quintessential middle child, a loving daughter and sister, a dedicated, determined, smart, witty, spunky, compassionate, passionate, changer of the world.

She's the person one always wants in their corner.

She's the one person you'll be lucky to call friend,

She's the one person you can trust with your secrets.

She's the one person you can count on to make you laugh (just check out her twitter if you don't believe me.)

She's the one person I always have been, and always will be so very proud to call My Emily.

She makes me look good by her very presence in this world because when I look at My Emily I know for certain we did something right.

Happy Birthday darlin'.

My Emily

I am lucky indeed.

It is a rare person that is able to experience the joy of watching lives unfold over several years through their work.  I'm one of the lucky few that meets people, often at their worst and get to see their lives transformed right before my eyes.

You see, I never just meet a mom or a kid or a dad and their kid, I meet families.  People come to me as a parent and a child or two parents and a child or two or three (parents or kids).....No matter what that family looks like when they arrive, I get to meet them when they are young.

By young I mean the family is young.  That parent might be 40 or that parent might be 14.  It doesn't matter because both of them have just started down a journey that hopefully...if they are lucky...never ends in the adults lifetime.

This week in particular I was struck by conversations with parents who have been with us in the past or even currently but for several years because their kids are older and what they said.  It's what they say that blows me away.

One mom was bragging about how her child can now jump on the couch and say bad words and he just turned 5.  Most parents would be appalled at these behaviors but she's celebrating that he has made strides despite his disability and wanted to share her joy with us.  She recognized that she will someday have to tell him not to do those things but is also so excited that he is now doing them...the things most parents take for granted, she simply doesn't.  It was heart wrenching to go through the steps of helping she and her partner to realize he had a disability but I'm happy I was there.

Another came in and congratulated us for receiving the BBB Torch Award for Ethics.  She has brought 4 kids to our centers and said she wouldn't take them anywhere else.  They are all in private school except for the baby and her words of affirmation meant so much.  This mom can take her children anywhere, but she chooses us.

Another mom reached out to me just to send good thoughts my way.  Her children are in elementary school now and she lives in another state but wanted me to know she was thinking about me.  My gosh, how lucky am I to have this family in my life?  One would think our connection would simply be over as her children aged out.  Was it because she had breast cancer when they were little and we collectively worried while her kids were little or was it fate that we met and still adore one another?  I don't know, but I'm grateful for that life line and friendship.

Then there is one of my longest connections with a woman that I admire and equally love for just being her.  She told me that when she and her best friend who also had a son at GL would have a problem they would say, "Let's call Lori, she'll know what to do."  Just like all of us, myself included, we don't always want to listen to our moms, so they had someone else they would listen to (even though I probably gave the same advice) don't we all need that non familial voice?

This one is special to me though.  Her son was a baby when he arrived and we haven't lost touch even though he's in college now.  The warmth I feel when I think about her and the connection we have is based on mutual respect, admiration and genuine love.  She was a scared and young mom when I first met her and she is no longer that person.  I was able to see her grow into herself and her vision of the best version of herself, but also watch and hear about her son growing into a person that she is proud of and that he is proud of.

I don't always get to see things start to finish.  I often lose touch or they move or I wasn't their go-to-person, but there are enough that I do see start to finish (even though we're never really finished) that I know it's good.  I know I'm lucky.  I know they're lucky too....that we found each other and that our spheres get to intersect for this span of time when we need each other the most.

"People don't care how much you know until they know how much you care."  John C. Maxwell.

I get to share a little bit about what I know with parents when they need it the most.

I get to share my passion for families everyday of my life.

I get to be a part of the most important part of a persons life, when they are young and their family is young.

When my own children become parents I know they will think that my advice might be outdated (even though I spent time this morning coaching a new mom with a 6 week old through her concerns).  But that's okay.  I hope they all find their Lori who will give them advice and help navigate them through their fears and insecurities and whom they will connect for a lifetime.

I am lucky indeed.

Letting Go of Baby

In my work with families over the past 24 years one thing that never gets easier is watching parents leave their child for the first time.

It is both heart breaking and exciting as we know that the process will eventually lead to a wonderful outcome for both of them.

I will never forget the couple that dropped off their baby and then said they were going to lunch for an hour and would be back.  We always recommend that parents practice a bit before they have to go back to work so they are more comfortable.  We know a newborn will be fine, but it's mom and dad we worry about in the first nine month until separation anxiety emerges for the baby.

This couple bravely came in and dropped off their little girl and left the center with a brave face after double checking that we had their phone numbers tattooed on our arms.  They ventured out toward their car parked in front and stood not ten feet from the front door embracing each other, visibly crying....

This lasted the entire hour they were to be gone...going to lunch...their first attempt at leaving their little one.  They never got further than the parking area outside my office.

When I first opened my blinds and saw them I felt as if I was spying on a very personal moment and shut my blinds immediately so they could have their moment.  My eyes welled up with tears (I'm a sympathy crier) but also because I could remember how I felt the first time I left my firstborn.  To this day nothing can bring me to tears like that moment.

About 30 minutes later I "checked in" by rotating the blinds just a little and there they stood still embracing but now talking and bravely smiling through their tears.  They hadn't moved a foot.  I quickly shut the blinds before they saw me.

Approximately 25 minutes later I peered through the blinds and there they were.  Still talking but now not needing to embrace and they were clearly excited that they had entrusted us with their child for an entire hour even though they hadn't moved more than 50 feet away from her for the entire hour they were "gone."

We never at any moment intimated that we knew they never really left because it was a BIG moment for them and in their minds they had left their baby and it was harrowing.

One of my favorite sayings after 24 years of doing my job is to say "The anticipation of you leaving is way worse than the actual leaving."  When children do begin to realize that parents still exist even when they no longer are visible is when children begin the process of objecting to being separated from parents.  This phase is called separation anxiety.

They will cry when the parent pulls up in front of the center.

They will cry when handed off to a favorite teacher.

They will cry during every transition throughout the day.

They will WAIL when their parents arrive as if to say, "What were you thinking leaving me here with these people?"

Parents often want to stick around because they think it will help when really it's often harder on kids for parents to linger.  In the case of the infant mentioned above, it didn't matter..  Parents close by or far away don't matter to a child whose needs are being met by a loving caregiver.  It's the older children that struggle with separation that we worry about.

You see, the anticipation of being separated is so much worse than the reality.  When parents stick around too long those little ones just keep crying until the parent finally leaves then they can get settled in and they do great.  It's hard for parents to believe since they aren't here to see the immediate results.

Children are smart and they know that if they continue to cry their parent might stay longer thereby prolonging the inevitable, but parent and child alike are strung out by the time they separate, oftentimes with both of them in tears.

I've seen it daily. I've seen it for 24 years.  I know that the anticipation of saying goodbye is way worse than the actual goodbye, but I hope you know that doesn't mean I'm not immune to it myself.

My youngest went off to college last month.  The anticipation of her leaving was brutal.  She is my baby after all which means my life is changing in real and dramatic ways, plus I really, really like this girl. We have fun, she has been the center of my life for the past 18 years and while I've had enough experience letting go of the other 2, she is special because she is her.  If you have more than one you know just what I mean.

I repeat.  The anticipation of her leaving was brutal.  My imagination took me places that I'd never thought it could and my focus became the actual day I would say goodbye and drive away from her. God I hate that day.  Having done it twice before I knew how painful it was and no matter what else happened I knew it wasn't going to be easy.

And then the day came.  When that day came she was happy.  She was thrilled with her sorority pick, she was confident and excited to begin her new life.  It was hard to be sad!

On that parting day, as it turned out, she walked away from us to go and get her pictures done and she held on a little longer than usual but was content to say her goodbyes.  We finished eating our lunch then decided to drive by one more time by her new house, to essentially torture ourselves before the six hour drive home without her.

As we slowly drifted by and she and her 60 new "sisters" were situated out front for their pledge day picture she saw us.  Then she did what only she would do....

She flipped us off.  It was as if to say, "How dare you remind me of you again after I walked away."  "How dare you take pictures of me and risk that someone might spy you and ask me who you are."  "How dare you."

Then just as suddenly she began blowing us kisses...over and over again until we drove out of sight.  It was so HER.  It was not what my proper first or perfect second child would've done, it was what the baby did and it was perfect.  It was just what we needed to leave and let her be her in her new place.

Did I cry?  Hell yes.  Did I cry as much as I did the first 2 times.  Hell no.  I know she'll be back, just like they were and I know when she comes back it'll be even better.

I've been that parent standing outside of a childcare office and I've been that parent saying a final goodbye to a young woman ready to embark on her own adventures, and now I'm that parent that gets to reconnect with her husband again and take on new adventures that have been put off for awhile.

The anticipation of separation is so much worse than the reality.  Knowing this, preaching this, seeing this daily one would naturally think it would be easier for me.

Nope.

Fear of Change is the fear of loss

Today I read a quote that cut to the heart of what my life is about right now:

People don't fear change, they fear loss.    UCLA Staff and Counseling Center

I have to be honest in that I really am okay with change as a general rule however I resist it just like everyone else sometimes and this statement resonates with me as to why that is.

I have many changes coming my way in the ensuing months including my baby of the family going off to college, my job responsibilities changing with me giving up some things I love to do (to take on things that aren't necessarily my favorite), family changes that require a lot of attention on my part as a guardian for my disabled sister and oh....did I mention my baby girl going off to college?

 I'm not losing my baby but I am letting go of her daily presence in my physical life.  That hurts. That person that came from my body that slowly and gradually made her own way to the point that she can stand on her own  is now venturing out into the world.  While this is as it should be, it will still be hard to face that moment when it arrives. I'm ready, she's ready, but is the world ready for us without each other everyday?  We'll see.  I'm feeling the inevitable approach of that loss.

My work life is changing at the same time. Why these things don't just happen one event at a time, I'll never know.  Meeting the parents and families that we serve has been vital to me being able to love this organization and what we stand for at Giraffe Laugh.  Removing myself from that process a bit by giving up being a site director is a loss that I know I will alternately revel in and regret to some degree.  

Getting to know their little personalities and their stories from the get-go and having a relationship with each of them will be harder for me to connect the dots so I'm working on how to be sure I still get those stories and opportunities to fall in love with people.  To know someone's story is to love them.  I will miss knowing it first hand and that loss is scaring me.  

The change to allow different leadership to emerge while lightening my load does not scare me at all, so it WILL be a good trade-off, it's just harder to see on this side of the process.

My sister Sue who is disabled and was mistreated by the agency that was charged with "caring" for her is now being situated from her group home, to my mom's home to a home with my younger sister.  While it's all very exciting and a new beginning, again, it's a new beginning and going through the story of her abuse at their hands has been difficult at best.  I fear the loss of my younger sisters chance at a life different from what it will be now and with that goes some guilt.  She says it's a life she wants and that she will cherish so I have to trust that she is right.  

Not everyone wants what I think they should want.  Not everyone believes that I know best and that if they just relaxed and did what I told them they'd be better off!!  Not everyone fears the same losses that I fear.  

Learning to navigate new territory over the next few months will take some strength and while I will be grieving some of my losses I will immerse myself in gratefulness that I have people and things to "lose".  

I can't imagine my life without any of these current challenges.  These challenges really are gains, not losses and I'm learning to perceive my losses as actual gains that someday I will divest myself of with the same resistance and regret that I feel now....that's how I'll know I did it right.

Little Women

Little Women was always one of my favorite stories. 

This week I was fortunate to attend an event that honored 50 women in my community that have impacted our world in awe and inspiring ways.  I'm guessing they had wonderful female role models in their lives.

As a young woman I was encouraged to be anything I wanted to be.  My Dad was an engineer and my mom graduated from a University in Music education and thought that all women could not only perform but also work while raising children,  She "worked" from home on her piano from 3-6 with kids after school teaching piano (her favorite instrument) while we played and got into mounds of trouble.

So my first lady impression was of a mom that not only had 5 kids, but also played the organ at church every Sunday (which none of the other moms did) wore fabulous dresses and hats, laughed a lot and made me laugh, played with us while caring for our sister with special needs and made my dad the happiest man on earth all while teaching every kid or adult that sook her out how to play the piano.

 I remember being jealous sometimes when they would show up because that meant I had to somehow fade into the back ground and disappear and literally not need anything.  After watching a few commercials about a new chewing gum that could cover up the smell of a woman eating a raw onion I asked my mom during a piano lesson if I could eat an onion.

She dismissed the question with a quick, "Sure, now go to the basement to play" answer which I took as a complete sign of support for this clever idea.  I then grabbed a Walla Walla onion and took it downstairs and proceeded to eat as much of it as I could manage at the ripe old age of 4. 

When my mom finished her piano lesson she summoned us and I appeared happily claiming that I had eaten an onion and asked if she had the "magic gum" that would make my breath smell better.

My brothers were nearby as always and made sure I understood how bad my breath was which to my surprise my mom was equally dismayed by.  She asked why I'd eaten the onion and when I told her it was just like the gum commercial she looked at me quizzically and ushered me to the bathroom to use my toothbrush before it was in her words, "too late!!!"

That balance of children and career was probably made harder by the antics of five kids doing whatever they wanted while she was painstakingly teaching people a skill that doesn't come natural to most.  The onion eating is only the tip of the iceberg!  I could go on and on and on but this is a great example of the type of thing we'd do while we knew that mom's eyes were focused elsewhere and  no one was truly responsible for our actions.

Was my mom a true career person or was she just a poser-stay-at-home-pretending-to-work-mom?

My mom was a career person within the boundaries of her family life raising five kids with a husband who made enough that she didn't really have to work, but enjoyed working enough that she didn't give up what she loved, which was teaching people (people other than just her children) how to love and appreciate music by learning to play it, create it and share it with others.

She should've been honored among those 50 ladies at some point in time but they didn't do things like that 50 years ago.  50 years ago women weren't expected to accomplish a lot outside of their homes.  They were expected to make a husband happy, keep their mouths shut and to raise a passel of kids that would do their spouse proud.

I think my mom did all those things and more.  I am glad for her example of a woman who can have it all and how that's impacted my life.  She was forced into "having it all" when my dad died suddenly when I was only 16 and she was in her early 40's.  Her ability to earn money to support a family of six meant she struggled...a lot.  However she wasn't nearly as lost as others we knew who had lost their primary bread winner because she had confidence in who she was and that she could do anything it took.

She also knew she didn't have a choice.  She had 5 other faces counting on her to make it better so she did.

She deserves a woman of the year award again, and again and again.  But mostly she just deserves a thanks for not only giving us plenty of fun memories of what we'd get into during piano lessons, but for teaching so many people to play piano, supporting a family of six alone and for showing us that women can have it all and even when they make mistakes they can do it all.

She taught her little women and her little men that women are special....and for that I am grateful.

but most of all I am proud to say....she taught me I could have it all and because of that I was able to have it all.

A Career is born

It was 1959 and my heavily drugged mother yelled out in the delivery room, “Thank God it’s a girl, I’m so sick of looking at penises!”  No self-respecting, pillbox hat wearing, Catholic mother in a Catholic hospital would yell out such a thing, but I was baby number 4, number 3 that survived childbirth and the first born girl.  I was a treasure she’d long awaited and the star of the family for a few short years.

 

About two years later my sister Susie arrived and on her heels Jeanine. The intruders are pictured above, I'm snuggled up next to my mom.  My princess crown slipped slightly as the sheer numbers increased but also because Susie had some special needs that my parents were alternately denying and embracing as parents do when faced with a cognitive disability.

My favorite activity with my parents remained sitting on their laps having them read me a book.  I’d evidently spent a fair amount of time doing this early on when I was the reigning princess that I never forgot how incredibly satisfying those moments were.  They became more and more rare as time went on and I can recall how sad I was about that at the ripe old age of about 3.

It seems like I spent eons watching my brothers leave for school, with me begging to be able to go, while my mom reassured me that I would be next…and best of all when I got there I would learn to read.  I was ecstatic. 

No more would I have to wait for someone to read me a book. 

I would have the special power to decode those exotic symbols that took me to places I’d never been, about people I’d never met, about experiences I never had.  I couldn’t imagine a greater power of any kind.

Fast forward an eternity later and I am finally standing in my first classroom at my Catholic school a little nervous about the nun whose veil hung to the floor as she quietly swooshed through the classroom of 25 eager 1^st graders.  She had us line up in the front of the classroom where we could clearly see the large alphabet hung above the blackboard.  She went down the line and pointed with her wooden pointer to each letter and then to one of us standing in that row to say the letter aloud.  The smell of fear suddenly overpowered the lovely first day smell of new crayons and freshly starched uniforms.

As my turn approached not only was I shaking in my newly purchased black and white saddle shoes, but as was my way, I wanted to throw up or pee my pants.  I did not know any of the letters and slowly watched as it got closer and closer to me being called upon.  Mortified I muttered a letter that someone had said a few try’s back and she kindly corrected me (thank GOD for her) and moved beyond me.

We performed a similar exercise with addition and as I heard people’s answers to her equations I searched through my limited data bank for patterns to help me when my name was called.  Again, I failed miserably (in my mind) as she gently told me the answer.  I know there were others that didn’t know the answers too, but on that day, in my mind, it was just me. 

I was furious when I arrived home even after walking the mile trek, all uphill of course.  I stormed in and announced, “I didn’t learn how to read today!!  I’m not going back!”  I tried to cover my shame with anger and vowed not to return. 

My mother took me into her arms and told me it takes a very long time to learn to read and that today was just a start.  I cried.  I told her why I was crying…because no one ever read me books anymore and all I wanted out of this school thing was to learn to read books. 

Through my hiccupped explanation she quietly listened and when I was done, she took a moment that I’m sure she could barely spare, sat me down on her lap, and read me a book.  She patiently pointed out letters and helped me begin to decode my first book.

My soul soared.

My job today is all around making sure no little person goes into school on the first day ecstatic to learn, and exits defeated at how little they know.  The early years are crucial to a child’s future success in school and the more information they have in their arsenal that first day, the more confident learner they are.  Studies show they actually are more likely to finish school, go beyond high school, and contribute to society in meaningful ways.

I hope it’s obvious that I did learn to decode just a little and that I can now scrap with the rest of them as I wrangle with words to explain why this is important.  My life’s work has been to create places for children and their parents from which to launch into kindergarten and beyond.

It may not seem so lofty,

but for a quivering little girl in saddle shoes,

it would have meant the world to have known just that one letter.

9 Months Pregnant

I've always said that at nine months pregnant no woman begs to be pregnant a little bit longer.  I was reluctant to have my first baby knowing that as soon as he entered the world exposed to it's many mysteries that his pain would become my pain, however, the pain he was causing my body, mind and soul at that point was so worth the swap. It was natures way of helping me separate and be ready for our individual selves to emerge.

When a child turns 18 it's not much different.  More about that later.

When I was a little girl, I had the mumps and my nieghbor brought me a Barbie house made out of cardboard with a cleverly built in elevator.  I was in heaven.  It was at that time that I wished for a little family that I could put in that house and make safe and sound with no pain or illness.  My quest for children of my own came early and stemmed from my happy childhood, my engaging siblings and my great parents. Family memories abound.

I grew up in Washington in a big family with 4 other siblings and two fun-loving parents who loved each other.  I was fortunate to have two sets of grandparents, a weekly trip to church each Sunday, private school, a great neighborhood and small town fun with fields to play in.  This was all before color TV, PC's and cell phones.  Simpler times, but no less complicated in it's own way.

We moved to the East Coast, I learned about other people, other times through historical places and about myself, then I came to Idaho to go to school.  I met my husband of 30+ on and off years and got pregnant for the first time at 24, a mere 3 years after getting married.

At this time,  some 29 or so odd years later, I am again 9 months pregnant with my 18 year old "baby".  I am comfortable with this space as I've been here twice before and experience brings it's comforts.  I don't really WISH for it to be OVER however I know we are both at a point that we are preparing to let go of the relationship we've known thus far and ready to move forward with an independance that is both necessary and inevitable, despite our probably collective misgivings.

I am once again at that point that I was when my first was born and the nurse brought him to my room.  I remember hearing him cry and realizing for the first time that everything that happend to him would now happen to me.  I felt overwhelmingly vulnerable and scared of what those things might be and I wanted to shield us both from the inevitable hurt that was bound to occur over our lifetimes that were undeniably interwoven.

I knew somewhere deep that I would also have many opportunities to rejoice in his happiness as well, but I was more afraid of the pain. At that moment I wanted those 9 months back and to have him safe in the womb with only the anticipation of what could be and all of it's many fantasies of lovely things to look forward to instead of the stark reality of life on earth.

It is no different now, with my third, a girl who will soon launch into the world as a young adult.  The discomfort of these last few months lead to an eventual letting go that is necessary for us to be able to cut that cord and get on with the business of growing up and moving on...but it's hard.  It's painful and it makes me want to grab her back and start from the beginning again to make sure we haven't missed anything important along the way.

It makes me alternately happy for us both but so very sad to see this chapter of our lives closing.  I wouldn't have it any other way and because I have the insight of letting two others go it feels like it might be okay, but....

She is the baby.  I came home tonight to an empty house, as my husband travels, with only a bunny rabbit to greet me and I sense an empty space that will, in a few short months, need to be filled with something other than her.  It is different.  This chapter feels like it's the closing of a very vital and important part of my being that began with a little cardboard structure with an elevator. 

I am going to hop on that elevator and see where it takes me....I am both scared and excited but this is natures way and if there is anything I try hard to respect, it is natures way.

I only hope nature goes easy on us as we approach our final months before the great launch into the world....