Survivor needs a break!

It's finally vacation time!  Surviving the last quarter of school seemed like eternal labor.  Now that school is out, I can breathe.  Not that I hate my job; everyone knows what it feels like to be in grade school.  The anticipation of the end of another year is incredibly suspenseful and stressful (especially for the adults who corral preteen hormones).

Our school system conducted business with incredible chaos while making changes at the end of this year. Our teachers had trainings until the week before school let out (substitutes at the end of school causes a lot of discipline problems). Our principal disappeared for a few days with no communication, our new assistant superintendent scheduled curriculum trainings for our new standards based grading without warning.  Some faculty had to change vacations plans due to the poor insight of our top administrators.  New deadlines were handed out just two days short of our summer vacations.  We had no communication about the end of the year schedules for the last two days.

 I attended two trainings for my new MacBook Air and a new IPAD.   Next year, we will be expected to be using this new technology in the classroom with our students.  Does this sound like summer vacation?  There is a myth that people believe that teachers (including school counselors like myself) have 2 to 3 months off at the end of each school year.  Perhaps the above paragraph explains why this is a myth.

I don't mind learning new things, but the way we were treated this year was over the top.  Some faculty had cruises and flights scheduled that they could not cancel.  However, when they come home, these deadlines will face them without fail.  AND it's time to do physical makeovers to the buildings, so good luck getting into the buildings once summer school is over.  Oh, yes, summer school begins in one week.  So the two weeks off were a pipe dream  for those who thought they could escape for a few days. (I never do summer school, thankfully.)

No worry, with the new technology, we can do all of this from home.  I feel sorry for the people who still have kids at home.  It seems like more and more is piled on them.  Technology makes things easier, right?  Well, it's not that simple for folks like me.  I am trying to stay in the game and learn and grow.

After all, I managed to take a class this last spring.  Taking an online final was a bit scary, but I made it!  Figuring out how to change to an Apple format is pretty challenging for my nearly 60 year old brain.  I am grateful I don't have kids at home so that I can relax between working on curriculum and technology challenges.  How long will I keep doing this before they start saying,  "Girl, it's time for you to move on down to the retirement pasture."  It doesn't help my self esteem.  Sometimes I just want to curl up and cry, but so far I refuse to let this stop me from reaching out and helping kids.

People forget that kids aren't just little robots, tested for data to make decisions on their lives.  It's summer for God's sake.  Put on the sunscreen and get on with rest and relaxation (if you can find time)!

Time stops when grandmother's role is filled

Our daughter and son-in-law are visiting us for the first time since they moved far, far away to Boise, Idaho last June. They were pregnant when they left and so with them comes their baby of 4 months, our third grandchild and first granddaughter. She is such a joy! She is chunky and strong, very alert and interested in the world. She is very talkative and nearly musical with her vocalizations. I tell her she is going to be a singer when she grows up.

She makes me melt; I turn into this oozy, smoozy gelatin when I am around her! Most grandparents are like that. Time stops when my grandkids and I are together. When we are apart, I look at the sky and talk as though the moon and stars we share are the connecting force between us. I took her for a stroll through the park the other day. We sat in the swing and I sang, I see you in the moon, I see you in the stars, I see you in the trees, I see you in the park, I see you in the swing. I know what is happening. When she is here, I record our time together like it's a movie and when she is gone, I vision all the places we were together and remember, longing for the next visit, the next time I can touch and hold her. She's right in front of me sleeping peacefully. Tears in my eyes, knowing she'll never be this young baby girl in this stage of her life again. Always moving and changing. I don't have the luxury of seeing her on a daily or weekly basis. The changes I see are drastic because the next time I see her she will be months older. We are planning a trip 4 months from now. In 4 months she will be crawling. And who knows how long it will be before I see her after that?

I look at my daughter, my youngest, and I am so proud of her as a woman. She is a wonderful mother, wife, friend, role model. My hopes and dreams have come true for her. And now she is living her dream.  She gets to experience motherhood much like I did.  Her father and I moved away from family when our first child, her older sister, was 10 months old.  We were young and bold, ready to take on a new adventure, far away from home.  Now I understand what it was like for my parents to watch us raise our family from a distance.  I am grateful for modern technology that keeps us in touch.  That is something my parents could not dream of.  The best thing that happened for us was eventually we returned with our young family to our roots, back on Pleasant Street.  We returned in 1990 and stayed in this same house for about a year and a half.  Then we left mom to be on our own, but that was just across town.

I don't know if our kids will ever return to our hometown.  They get to choose what their life adventures will be.  I am grateful that we came back to Pleasant Street.  It was hard to give up the house we raised our children in, but the timing was perfect.  We didn't need a big house anymore.  With three grandkids hundreds of miles apart, traveling to see them is our life, just like my parents did.  It's crazy to think about how circuitous life is.  I can't wait until summer to see my babies once again!!

School counseling is a labor of love

It's been a tough couple of weeks. Spring has sprung (in February!); it seems like the end of school is just around the corner. But it is still the third quarter.

A school year is like being pregnant. At first, there is the excitement and anticipation of what's to come. Mid semester is getting comfortable and establishing a routine with the new kids. The stress mounts as the halfway point arrives. Christmas break is a relief, yet, it in itself, is stressful. Then the new year starts with an explosion of energy and growth. The tension builds as the belly grows. From about mid April to the end, labor becomes harder and harder. But the prize at the end is wonderful! Summer is for projects, vacation, and relaxing. Yet it takes a whole summer to recuperate and then we are pregnant with a whole new year once again.

Back to the third quarter stretch......I feel sorry for my mom and husband. They never know what they are going to get when I get home. I think they are relieved when I show up from work just long enough to change into my workout clothes and pound it out in the gym.

This semester I've added some new activities. Monday nights are my supervision meetings with my counselor (wine included.) Tuesday nights are my college class nights, Wednesday nights are a potential hot tub and social wine time with friends, Thursdays are a celebration because it is almost Friday. (In college we called it P.O.E.T.S which stood for Piss On Everything ThurSday!) An occasional massage is helpful as well.

This past week brought near 70 temperatures and shades of purple and yellow glaze the bushes and trees. One evening I spent an hour on my bike followed by an hour of outdoor yoga. It took the entire 2 hours to calm down after a stressful day at work. I was drained after spending an hour and a half working with a class that needed help discovering the meaning of empathy. (Sixth graders can be so mean. Why do kids treat other kids like a doormat?)

I love my job, but I notice, the labor pains start a little earlier each year. Does my attitude and level of stress indicate that I should retire soon? Sometimes I can't believe that I actually could have retired 2 years ago. I do this job because I love it (and want to be debt free), but the pressure really gets to me sometimes.

My dad (who was my principal in junior high and high school) said he regretted working so much when we were kids. When he became a grandfather, he realized he missed out on many milestones. He was a workaholic and he died at the young age of 63. I can't help but think that the stresses from his job had something to do with that. It is important to do what you love, but there has to be a balance to stay healthy, especially when your job is stressful. They say you'll know when it is time to retire. I have my goals for another career. When I reach those goals, I look forward to doing something different, but until then, the labor of this school year continues.............

“Austinites” feel at home in Eureka Springs

There are a few places in this world that I feel at home, away from home. Austin is at the top my list due to the 2-3 times a year we visit the family. It's not only family, but it's hanging around people who give me that feeling that I've lived here all my life. We are kindred spirits that share similar political, cultural, and spiritual beliefs. Fresh ideas are born from collaborations over meals, hikes, garage music and conversations spent with our fellow Austinite friends and family. I created my own backyard Cathedral of Junk to capture that feeling of my second hometown.

Another place that I feel a connection is just an hour south. My husband and I have been coming to Eureka Springs for many years. It is the perfect getaway. Hailed the “Little Switzerland of America,” this Arkansas wonder is sprinkled with historic buildings and eclectic shopping, dining and celebrating nestled in the Boston Mountains. There are literally hundreds of ways to experience this place. We prefer the old fashioned cottages with a full kitchen, wood burning stove/fireplace, antique furniture, crystal rock gardens with blue bottle trees and other odd yard decorations, and an outdoor jacuzzi with views of the old haunted Crescent Hotel at the peak. (I wish Crescent Dragonwagon, the famous cookbook author who introduced her "Nuev'ozarkian" flavors to the beltway during the Clinton presidency, still ran her inn (Dairy Hollow House.)

Eureka Springs' residents are of the “Keep Austin Weird” variety. Artists, musicians, GLBT's, hippies (young and old), occupy whatever, environmentalists find this place welcoming. Nearly every weekend.some group takes the stage and puts on a party. Blues, jazz and folk music have their own live music annual weekends, as well as VW owners, Harley Davidson enthusiasts, and the calendar provides more oppportunities for social gatherings (Cinco de Mayo, 4^th of July, etc). It seems to go on all year! Recently, several displaced Katrina victims found a new home here and thanks to their influence, we are celebrating Mardi Gras this weekend with a spirited parade, colored beads, masks and costumes. (It was much safer and easier than the real Mardi Gras experience we had in 1972!)

We didn't plan this party. I just needed a February break. Accustomed to snow day vacations, this was the first winter in years that we kept to our regular school calendar. I am grateful for the days off and with my husband's coaxing, we brewed up some spontaneity (instead of waiting for a trip to see family in Austin). Eureka Springs, I can always count on you! Happy Fat Tuesday!!

A break can make all the difference in our prespective

Mom is on her annual retreat to San Diego visiting my brother and his wife. I have to be honest and say it is a nice break. Just the two of us in this big old house with our dog; we don't have to share space and it is a welcome relief since our downsizing/austerity move a year and a half ago.

We can let the dishes pile up in the sink, not make our bed, leave the lights on, fill the living space with music, eat cereal for dinner at 8:00 PM, engage in random intimacies, etc. In other words, we have no social norms to honor for two weeks.

Living in a communal situation, at least with mom, there are routines that offer her comfort and stability. We arrive home from work, eat dinner, share our day conversations with wine on week nights. The weekends are filled with cleaning rituals and duties and activities that are predictable. I am usually a nonconformist, random type person who gets bored with routine outside of school, but we keep things tight because it feels respectful for how mom thrives.

(Occasionally we announce that it is date night, she honors our signal for some flex time. It's on your own for dinner and we usually retreat to our basement living space to relax by ourselves. And she is probably just as happy that we spoke up about wanting our own space.)

This time away gives me some time to reflect on what is important about sharing life with mom. I am grateful for so many things about her. She is generous with her time and energy, she is able to travel, and lives independently, loves to eat and socialize, is prayerful and active in her church. She tries to relieve some of our stresses by making meals, ironing, and doing our laundry. Even with her COPD, she never complains and I notice she has less energy and rest is important.

I sometimes wonder when will her health digress and we have to actually be caretakers. I really hope, for her sake and ours, that won't happen. Her wish (and mine) is that she continues living the active retired life she has carved out for herself until she just doesn't wake up one day. (Watching her lifetime friends pass away one by one is a part of living with an octogenarian; a reminder that every day is not to be taken for granted.)

And so, when she returns, we will adjust to the new normal once again. Where her pills (and other clutter) sit on the counter and table so she won't forget, hinting instead of asking for what she can't do herself, making sure the newspapers are where she wants them to be so she can read every word and cut out articles to send to friends and family, recycling plastic bags and dental picks and rubber bands, making sure we have farmers market eggs, TV in the living room or blaring from upstairs, figuring out healthy menus and cooking ahead on weekends so we don't eat comfort food every night.

These quirks can be annoying, but in the absence and silence in this house where it all began, they are greatly appreciated for they are a sign of a loving mother, MY mother, who loves me and would do anything for me to this day, who still worries about me, who shares precious grandchildren moments, whose heart is always there for me. It only takes a little trip away from home to realize I am the luckiest person in the world who, at 57, shares each day with mom.

Canines Color Our World

Dogs are loved like a family member and when the kids are gone, they become the baby who needs mommy and daddy. Our granddog, Shiva, became our beloved baby 4 years ago when our first grandson became mobile. She is the reason I take walks in the cold winter night in my robe and vacuum her blue healer salt and pepper hair every Saturday morning.

I grew up with dashunds. Only doxie families understand the complex nature of these animals. They are willing to put up with their gluttonous nature, weak backs, and sometimes loud and smelly ways. Why? Because they fit in your lap like a baby, they perform by sitting up on their hind legs, and they are just so darn cute!!!

Mom is a dashund fanatic. There are reminders of her passion are all over the house! One table is a shrine to her 150 plus figurines of all sizes and shapes. It is hard to find a unique one she doesn't already possess. They spill over into other areas of the house as well. When I tried to coax her into getting rid of one of two duplicate doxie pillows on her couch, she wouldn't have it. I've lost the love I once had for doxies, but I enjoy the look on mom's face when she sees one.

Many memories are attached to the black and brown versions of this German species. I remember dad spending a ton of money on an Italian statue from Epcot Center. A refrigerator magnet that says "My weiner likes you" gives you an idea of mom's playful and liberal sense of humor. Other unique pieces include salt and pepper shakers, Christmas ornaments, a doxie crossing sign, clay figurines made by my older brother 50+ years ago, picture frames, candles, calenders, a wooden puzzle. Mom plans for her figurine collection to be shared at her funeral. Everyone in attendance will be invited to take one home as a remembrance of her. Family members better stake their claim before that dreaded day. I let mom choose the one she wants me to keep (her favorite from Epcot, of course.)

My daughter made her a quilt with a long wiener dog design with the names of the pets she's had over the nearly 60 years: Duchess, Johann, Beethoven, Ginger, Daisy, and lastly, Chloe. When we moved in with mom, Shiva and Chloe naturally had an adjustment period. It was fun for each of us to have our own baby. Sadly, Chloe became incontinent which became a nuisance and constant reminder that her better days were long gone. Mom called us on one of her annual trips to her dog loving pals on the East Coast and ask us to take her to the vet to be put down. That was tough. Since that time, she has grown to love Shiva and I am grateful that they keep each other company.

Recently, our Shiva began limping, especially during weather changes. Arthritis is beginning to remind us that we will have to make that decision again some day, hopefully not too soon. She came home last night with a big gash in her fore leg. Right now she's in surgery for repairs. I remember crying on the front porch, as an 11 years old, the day my brave dad took Duchess to be put out of her cancerous misery. Bernie was our wonder dog while we raised our girls. His ashes are downstairs in a box bearing his name. Shiva's limp and this accident reminds me to take more pictures, look into her expressive eyes and not take her presence for granted. I love you, Shiva. I want you here as long as you are able. We have many more trips to make to see your first mom and dad and growing brothers in Texas and new baby sister in Idaho. Hang in there, ol' girl.

Preparing for the Next Chapter

This week I began a class for obtaining my professional counseling license. When I started this dream 16 years ago, it was a foggy, distant idea. I had been teaching for ten years and I loved what I was doing, but I knew I would not make it to retirement if I didn't make a change. School counseling seemed to be a perfect match for me. I could still work with kids, but I would be free from the trapped feeling of being in the classroom, day in and day out. For 6 years, my life was centered around graduate classes (one night a week), in between teaching, grading papers and attending volleyball games, band events, church activities, etc. of my 2 daughters.

This new career was the best move for me. After 10 years of teaching guidance classes and counseling 5th and 6th graders, I still love my job! The years seem to clip by so quickly. I can see retirement within a couple of years. I remember doing the math a few years ago and I figured I'd definitely be done by 2014.

Last year, I attended a retirement meeting and realized if I was going to have another career beyond education, I'd better start the next phase. The big picture looked overwhelming: 3000 hours of supervision hours meeting weekly with a licensed professional counselor, taking 1 or 2 more graduate classes, and the national licensure exam. But living with mom and having my summers off, I had time. I set a goal to just take the first step, which is apply.

Going through this process has been streamlined and easy so far. I know this is what I am supposed to do. Volunteering with victims of the Joplin tornado gave me the opportunity to meet others who are following the same path. I found a supervisor who lives just around the corner from me. My job counts toward the 3000 hours, so that makes it about a 2 year process to finish. I can see the end in sight, which makes me sad in a way, but I know the "new cheese," whatever that is, will be even better!

Education runs deep in our family. While growing up on Pleasant Street, I watched my teacher/ coach father work on his master's degree. It was a big deal to the entire family. I will never forget the pride I felt for him when he walked across the stage to receive his honors. He was a great principal and he has a scholarship named after him. My brother received his doctorate last year, the same year he turned 60!

When I sat in my chair as a returning grad student, I felt a tinge of excitement. Just like when I took my first guitar lesson, I said to myself, "Yes, I'm finally doing it!" Next week, I will attend the MO Professional Learning Communities state conference where our school is being recognized for the second year in a row as an Exemplary School. It is an honor to be on the leadership team and present our school's successes.

As I pursue the next phase of my life, I will take the lessons learned. When you follow your dreams, listen to your heart, and take the leap of faith, the future takes shape. I had no idea what an impact my life would have by taking the first step. Giving up our home and moving in with mom was the BIG step. Our forty year marriage is fresh and alive. We have no empty nest ruts; it feels good to continue to discover what else we can learn. I have no idea what is ahead with this new counseling career. All I know is I have good health, a supportive husband, and a passion for helping others. New doors will open as I gratefully enter this next chapter.