Today I downloaded Tango. because my grandson Jax calls my cell phone so much that he knows the words to my ring back tone. seriously. so I thought he’d enjoy talking to AND seeing grammy! Whenever he wants! Interestingly enough Jax lives about 12 minutes away — i see him almost daily — wrap my arms around that little cuddler — but , hey, if thats not enough, and he wants to speak to grammy, I will learn to tango.
Jackson is sick. Jackson is my grandson, almost two years old. the most pleasant, adorable little guy you could ever meet. but right now he is sick. pneumonia, something viral, croupy and droopy, sick. Its Christmas break so poppop and I had him here the day after Christmas so his mommy and daddy could go to work.that lasted about 4 hours, clear up until the doctor told me to take him into the hospital for a chest x-ray” right now”. i called my daughter and she met us in the parking lot and we took jax to the hospital. Where he was the best boy ever. pneumonia does that to you, knocks you on your ass to the point where, even if youre almost two you lay on the table and let them take pictures of your chest. poor guy, I almost wanted him to put up a fuss. then my daughter contacted the pulmnologist the doctor has suggested we visit, and they set us up for an 8:00 am appt. the next day. Daddy “had to work” so mommy, pop and I left the house at the ungodly hour of 7:30 AM with Jax, to go back to the hospital to see this pulmnologist. Many head nods, computer inputs and questions later they came up with — well pretty much nothing. The xrays showed a triangular mess in his lung that they think is viral. his symptoms indicate reflux or maybe allergies… they are going to test him for cystic fibrosis WHICH HE DOES NOT HAVE and did a lot of blood work. jax got mcnuggets and a milkshake out of the deal, because he was such a good boy. we came back to our house where he and his mommy hung out for a while. Daddy was a couple hours away, freaking out about cystic fibrosis, so she stayed with us for support and a little relief.
So that brings us to today. I had to go into work. pop had to chop and split wood. Daddy was on duty because daughter does not want to lose her job…About a half hour into the morning i got a text” Jax is upset, can you call and make sure they are ok? ” in the most supportive message I could get my fingers to type i said “yes I will call, but he is his father he needs to suck it up and figure out what to do” Then I called. Phone rang 3 or 4 times. then “Hello grammy”. Jax answered the phone, proceeded to tell me many things in the language that only he understands and then put his daddy on the phone. daddy sounded fine, said they were going to hang out.
Hhmmm. Sounds like mommy needs to suck it up. It is hard to believe that someone else can care for your baby . Relax mommy, daddy got it.
funny. I started this post days ago.well, started is kind of a stretch, I wrote the title, and then nothing more…hhmmm. deep message there? Or did the phone ring or Jax poo his pants? or did I just decide i had nothing that day….
For the kids: love, acceptance, free babysitting, peace of mind, prayer, money, gifts, that about says it all.
for the kids…hhhmmm. loaded subject there…
Hear that? that is the silence that envelopes the house after all the kids and the grandbabies have gone home. Christmas magic has subsided…and the gifts have gone home with them ( except for the kitchen and the air hockey, which unapologetically still stand guard in my living room) and most of the wrapping paper, stray beer cans and cookie crumbs have been gathered up. Its a good kind of quiet, almost anticipatory. Because they will, mercifully, be back, and soon. Someone will need to be babysat, someone will need to borrow a pot with a lid or a log splitter, someone will need to talk or eat or have something sewn…and they will all come crashing back in, arms flying, laughter erupting….but for right now, its quiet..
sitting here tonight, the night before the night before christmas, I am struck by the calm in the air. Trees are lit in every room, the house smells wonderful, Ive been baking since lunch time, and the movie “White Christmas” is on the TV. This whole Empty Nest routine is getting pretty comfortable. We’ve been in the process of emptying our nest since fall of 1998 when the oldest headed off to college, leaving little bro and sis behind. Since then they have all three gone to college, moved back after graduation, moved away, moved back, moved out and moved in at least once–and each time its fun and familiar. I used to think that the lights on the tree, or the smell of cookies baking wouldnt have much meaning when it was just hubby and I, but I was wrong , very wrong. The smells and lights and familiar sounds of the movie remind me of years past and make me excited about the years to come. there is something kind of reassuring about the circle of days and nights that pass…
I am smart enough to know that tomorrow the ceiling could fall in, the world as we know it could be altered, but each strong healthy and happy day shores us up for any upcoming storm — our little family will sing again,and laugh again, and cry again and gather around a tv or a Christmas tree. The familiar will mingle with the new, and it will, as always, be good.
for Gods sake. the tragedy in Connecticutt affected my students. they are studying child development. they care about children, they know that may some day be teachers. they are stressed. i had them making tiny little fabric hearts, stuffed with the list of names of the dear babies killed in that tragedy. the plan was to box up a few hundred of them and send them, along with heartfelt notes, to Sandy Hook. Today we get an email from district “our policy is not to make any contact or offers of support” Really? Really? why would we let our students offer loving care to families who are hurting. why let children offer stuffed hearts to children? for gods sake. what has happened to education?
I am, seriously, that girl. Not Marlo Thomas That Girl ( dating myself there) but that girl that always has an opinion….that girl that always seems to piss someone off and who has the audacity to believe that what I say is important AND that I deserve to be treated with respect.
I am retiring. leaving my teaching job after, at last count, 22 years, 4 months and 10 days. And yes, they do count that way…I am retiring in March. Yes , March. And, yes, I do know that the school year ends in June and that by leaving in March I am deserting my students, letting them down, quitting on them.
Anyone who knows me, or who knows another really good, really devoted teacher knows this is one hell of a big deal and not a decision that comes easily. The kicker was the day I was questioned for having a bowl of lollipops on my desk — and for having a composition book for a sign in book, instead of a “formal, leather bound book”. The day my suprientendant walked into and out of my room without acknowledging with so much as a grunt, my students. Bingo. You ignore and disregard my students and then tell me “its all about the kids.” bullshit. straight bullshit. Exit stage right. March first.
So I thought about the repercussions of this treatment. I came up with the idea that , really, the only weapon I have in this fight is my feet. I can stay and continue to be picked apart like yesterday’s roast chicken, or I can turn and walk. I choose turn and walk. It is important to me that i send my students, mostly young women, the message that you do not have to let things happen to you. that an intolerable situation can be left behind. that respect is key and that demanding respect for yourself is accepted, expected.
they are gonna be pissed. We have been trying to open a preschool in my school, and the interference of district personnel has not allowed it to happen. My girls are going to be pissed.
someone said to me today “seriously, you should blog or something. you’re like the queen of stories…”
She was all worked up because I had given her a wreath fashioned from vintage Christmas Ornaments on the day i had sent her to an incredible emilehenry sale. So I was pretty much infalliable in her eyes by this time of day.
Ive actually done a couple blog attempts in the past. Always feel that what I have to say is interesting to someone besides me, but never really clicked, or had them click with others.
Interesting week though, I was fired from a volunteer job. How the hell does that happen? I mean, Ive got two pay jobs, but fired from a volunteer position? some soul searching in order maybe???
they were a bunch of pretentious old biddies patting themselves on the back for all they had accomplished. I was the “relative newcomer”, seriously, they called me that….who didnt quite fit in. How dare I question the status quo, which by the way, was why they had offered me a leadership position in the first place….long story short, Im a 55 year old woman who is doing up the “midlife” thing like its my job. Left my husband last year, came back. Started a new job, bursting with creative opportunity, decided to retire ( soon, soon…) from the “career” and devote some of my time paying forward the help that had been given us when our daughter suffered from an eating disorder….( this part resulted in the volunteer position ….) I spend much of my time sitting in front of a spinning wheel and even more of it sitting with this computer on my lap. I have a bunch of amazing grandchildren and three children that I cherish. My husband of a million years is a genuinely good guy, but a little dense when it comes to feelings and expressing himself — of course thats not unique to him…
So I shall start a blog. I will be the queen of stories. I will wax poetic on life, couponing, knitting, fighting eating disorders and the evils of public education. Lets see how this goes…