Graduation Review

The Girl graduated from High School on Thursday morning.  Where did the time go?  She was rather low key about the whole thing, but it was an important day...and we were glad to be there with her (except The Boy, but he'll get his day.)  Here are some highlights:

Never one to look too serious....

Pretty good family kind of day....

 The Besties...ready to change the world!

 Plus some other friends....McKay....

and Spencer.....

and Brooks....

 and the PTA co-presidents with their girls!

But the cousins...ah, the cousins!

LOVE these kids!!!

Lesson Learned, Again

Here is another post I must share.  I wept as I read her story of trying again and again to parent her children better, safer, saner.  As last night was the "Senior All-night Party" for the graduating seniors at our high school, I will be comatose this morning, so I want to share this while I hibernate off the efforts of our PTA last night.

The Important Thing About Yelling

Posted on May 22, 2013 by Rachel Macy Stafford

I cherish the notes I receive from my children—whether they are scribbled with a Sharpie on a yellow sticky note or written in perfect penmanship on lined paper. But the Mother’s Day poem I recently received from my 9-year-old daughter was especially meaningful. In fact, the first line of the poem caused my breath to catch as warm tears slid down my face. 

“The important thing about my mom is … she’s always there for me, even when I get in trouble.”

You see, it hasn’t always been this way.

In the midst of my highly distracted life, I started a new practice that was quite different from the way I behaved up until that point. I became a yeller. It wasn’t often, but it was extreme—like an overloaded balloon that suddenly pops and makes everyone in earshot startle with fear.

So what was it about my then 3-year-old and 6-year-old children that caused me to lose it? Was it how she insisted on running off to get three more beaded necklaces and her favorite pink sunglasses when we were already late? Was it that she tried to pour her own cereal and dumped the entire box on the kitchen counter? 

Was it that she dropped and shattered my special glass angel on the hardwood floor after being told not to touch it? Was it that she fought sleep like a prizefighter when I needed peace and quiet the most? Was it that the two of them fought over ridiculous things like who would be first out of the car or who got the biggest dip of ice cream?

Yes, it was those things—normal mishaps and typical kid issues and attitudes that irritated me to the point of losing control.

That is not an easy sentence to write. Nor is this an easy time in my life to relive because truth be told, I hated myself in those moments. What had become of me that I needed to scream at two precious little people who I loved more than life?

Let me tell you what had become of me.

My distractions

Excessive phone use, commitment overload, multiple page to-do lists, and the pursuit of perfection consumed me. And yelling at the people I loved was a direct result of the loss of control I was feeling in my life.

Inevitably, I had to fall apart somewhere. So I fell apart behind closed doors in the company of the people who meant the most to me.

Until one fateful day.

My oldest daughter had gotten on a stool and was reaching for something in the pantry when she accidently dumped an entire bag of rice on the floor. As a million tiny grains pelleted the floor like rain, my child’s eyes welled up with tears. And that’s when I saw it—the fear in her eyes as she braced herself for her mother’s tirade.

She’s scared of me, I thought with the most painful realization imaginable. My six-year-old child is scared of my reaction to her innocent mistake.

With deep sorrow, I realized that was not the mother I wanted my children to grow up with, nor was it how I wanted to live the rest of my life.

Within a few weeks of that episode, I had my Breakdown-Breakthrough—my moment of painful awareness that propelled me on a Hands Free journey to let go of distraction and grasp what really mattered. That was two and a half years ago—two and half years of scaling back slowly on the excess and electronic distraction in my life … two and half years of releasing myself from the unachievable standard of perfection and societal pressure to “do it all.” As I let go of my internal and external distractions, the anger and stress pent up inside me slowly dissipated. With a lighten load, I was able to react to my children’s mistakes and wrongdoings in a more calm, compassionate, and reasonable manner.

I said things like, “It’s just chocolate syrup. You can wipe it up, and the counter will be as good as new.”

(Instead of expelling an exasperated sigh and an eye roll for good measure.)

I offered to hold the broom while she swept up a sea of Cheerios that covered the floor.

(Instead of standing over her with a look of disapproval and utter annoyance.)

I helped her think through where she might have set down her glasses.

(Instead of shaming her for being so irresponsible.)

And in the moments when sheer exhaustion and incessant whining were about to get the best of me, I walked into the bathroom, shut the door, and gave myself a moment to exhale and remind myself they are children, and children make mistakes. Just like me.

And over time, the fear that once flared in my children’s eyes when they were in trouble disappeared. And thank goodness, I became a haven in their times of trouble—instead of the enemy from which to run and hide.

I am not sure I would have thought to write about this profound transformation had it not been for the incident that happened last Monday afternoon. In that moment, I got a taste of life overwhelmed and the urge to yell was on the tip of my tongue. I was nearing the final chapters of the book I am currently writing and my computer froze up. Suddenly the edits of three entire chapters disappeared in front of my eyes. I spent several minutes frantically trying to revert to the most recent version of the manuscript. When that failed to work, I consulted the time machine backup, only to find that it, too, had experienced an error. When I realized I would never recover the work I did on those three chapters, I wanted to cry—but even more so, I wanted to rage.

But I couldn’t because it was time to pick up the children from school and take them to swim team practice. With great restraint, I calmly shut my laptop and reminded myself there could be much, much worse problems than re-writing these chapters. Then I told myself there was absolutely nothing I could do about this problem right now.

When my children got in the car, they immediately knew something was wrong. “What’s wrong, Mama?” they asked in unison after taking one glimpse of my ashen face.

I felt like yelling, “I lost three days worth of work on my book!”

I felt like hitting the steering wheel with my fist because sitting in the car was the last place I wanted to be in that moment. I wanted to go home and fix my book—not shuttle kids to swim team, wring out wet bathing suits, comb through tangled hair, make dinner, wash dishes, and do the nightly tuck in.

But instead I calmly said, “I’m having a little trouble talking right now. I lost part of my book. And I don’t want to talk because I feel very frustrated.”

“We’re sorry,” the oldest one said for the both of them. And then, as if they knew I needed space, they were quiet all the way to the pool. The children and I went about our day and although I was more quiet than usual, I didn’t yell and I tried my best to refrain from thinking about the book issue.

Finally, the day was almost done. I had tucked my youngest child in bed and was laying beside my oldest daughter for nightly Talk Time.

“Do you think you will get your chapters back?” my daughter asked quietly.

And that’s when I started to cry – not so much about the three chapters, I knew they could be rewritten – my heartbreak was more of a release due to the exhaustion and frustration involved in writing and editing a book. I had been so close to the end. To have it suddenly ripped away was incredibly disappointing.

To my surprise, my child reached out and stroked my hair softly. She said reassuring words like, “Computers can be so frustrating,” and “I could take a look at the time machine to see if I can fix the backup.” And then finally, “Mama, you can do this. You’re the best writer I know,” and “I’ll help you however I can.”

In my time of “trouble,” there she was, a patient and compassionate encourager who wouldn’t think of kicking me when I was already down.

My child would not have learned this empathetic response if I had remained a yeller. Because yelling shuts down the communication; it severs the bond; it causes people to separate—instead of come closer.

“The important thing is … my mom is always there for me, even when I get in trouble,”

My child wrote that about me, the woman who went through a difficult period that she’s not proud of, but she learned from. And in my daughter’s words, I see hope for others.

The important thing is … it’s not too late to stop yelling.

The important thing is … children forgive–especially if they see the person they love trying to change.

The important thing is … life is too short to get upset over spilled cereal and misplaced shoes.

The important thing is … no matter what happened yesterday, today is a new day.

Today we can choose a peaceful response.

And in doing so, we can teach our children that peace builds bridges—bridges that can carry us over in times of trouble.

 

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If you have a habit of yelling and want to change, there is hope. The Orange Rhino is an incredible source of wisdom and inspiration for overcoming the inclination to yell. The Orange Rhino is a parent who challenged herself to 365 days of no yelling and shared her struggles and triumphs on a blog. The Orange Rhino recently began year two of her peaceful initiative. A good place to start reading is “10 things I learned when I stopped yelling.”

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To Graduation....And Beyond!

Today is graduation, and for some of our PGHS friends, it is just the beginning of a much bigger plan...



106 seniors will receive their diplomas with a mission call in hand as well.  It's been very cool to watch each week as these young men prepare for their future with a mind set on serving the Lord first.

Dear Editor

I finally put my issues about the fighting from both sides of the Common Core "discussion" on paper and wrote to the newspaper this week.  Last Saturday there were two long essays--from the proponents, and the opponents of this new initiative.  I agreed with the gal who wrote in favor of the CCSI.  Plus the guy who wrote against it is a notorious trouble maker in our district and I have nothing terribly nice to say about him beyond he must have cult-leader-like charisma because people certainly fall in line behind him and eat every word he tells them without any source checking of their own.  And I guess that isn't really very nice.

Here is what I sent the paper:

Dear Editor—

I read with appreciation the opposing opinions of the Common Core in the Saturday, May 18^th, Daily Herald.  I see the enthusiasm each contributor has for his/her side of this discussion.  But the discussion statewide has gone beyond the discussion into an ideological battlefield.  I’d sincerely hope that concerned citizens could take a deep breath, a step back and return to the discussion of this issue.

The current state of our public education is one that deserves enthusiasm and efforts and energy of all our citizenry.   Our kids are worth nothing less.  However, are opponents of the Common Core Standards Initiative directing their efforts and energies to the solution of this problem?  

The concerned conservatives who see the CCSI as a federal conspiracy, who quote a myriad of experts and implore us to “follow the money” have yet to propose an alternative solution.  Like many of the leaders we keep sending to Washington DC, there seems to be much complaining about what the “other guy” is doing, but not enough talk about how they propose to solve the problems we are facing.

Personally, I support the CCSI.  The standards themselves are not to blame or fear.  I want my children to have the very best educational foundation I can find and provide for them.  And as a parent, I have CHOSEN our local public educational system.  But this is Utah, and there are there are MANY other choices available.  We have a host of Charter schools that cater to nearly every educational niche there is.  There are some superbly run private school options in our area.  And if all those fail to meet a parent’s approval, homeschooling is one of the most personal and self-directed options there can be.  There isn’t even an argument about costs with this choice.

Why should the opponents of the CCSI remove the choice I have to send my kids to the local public school and the standards it now espouses from me just because they don’t agree with this new shift?  My choice is to send my kids, to spend my time volunteering there and to even write a check a few times a year to support the programs, teams, and clubs these local public schools offer.

My children have had wonderful, inventive and inspiring teachers over the course of their public education.  The administrators I have seen at work do their jobs with honor, diligence and an overarching goal to see ALL the children in their stewardship find success at school.  The efforts made on behalf of my children and their classmates are astounding.   If the CCSI opponents aren’t seeing the same thing I am, what is keeping them in the local public schools? 

I was over their "suggested length" but I said what I wanted to say.  In the meantime, I will put my head down and work as hard as I can to see our schools be as successful as they can for the kids they are stuck with as well as those who really want to be there.

I Agree, Whole Heartedly

As school ends lit week, I want to share a little article I saw on facebook.  I do not know Bo Wright, but I firmly agree with the sentiments expressed:

Bo Wright

I freely admit it. I've taken teachers for granted. Sure, as a kid, you wanted the ones that weren't too hard on you when you screwed up, or maybe the ones who never noticed when you did.

As a parent, you merely hope they will turn your children into the smartest kids in town. We look at state rankings of schools and hope ours is smarter than that dumb school down the street. Because, by God, my kid needs to have a good job someday so I'm not supporting them till they're 35.
 
I'll admit it. When I get my kid's report cards, or test scores, or whatever, I congratulate my kids for the good grades, and question the teachers about the bad ones.
 
Then, it hit me.
 
When your 4 year old, who's never been more than 8 feet away from you is dropped off at school for the first time, and you're at work all day stressing about it, the teacher is the one with him, making sure he's ok.
When your house is just so loud from your 2 or 3 kids being cooped up all summer, and you can't wait for the house to be quiet again, the teacher is the one who happily receives them.
 
When a kid is having problems at home, the teacher is the one that comforts them and gives them a sense of normalcy.
 
When you get a call that the school is on lockdown, because of whatever craziness is going on in the world at that time, the teacher is the one who is there to comfort them.
 
When an EF-5 tornado is zeroed in on your kid's school, and you are 10 miles away, helpless and hopeless to reach them in time, the teacher is the one who makes sure they are in a safe place.
 
When that same tornado, or even a crazy person with a gun, enters the school, and attempts to take the life of your child, and you wish you were there to jump in the way, the teacher is the one who does.
 
This is for all the teachers who I ever had, and every teacher my kids ever had, or will ever have. You may have never had to take a bullet for me, or protect my child from a falling wall, but it wasn't until now that I realized, you totally would have.
 
I apologize for never treating you with the proper respect. The same respect we give our fireman and our policeman, should have been given to you.
 
Thank you for everything you ever did, and everything you were in position to do, but never had to.
Good job, teach.

Letting Things Go

I've been at my new job for a month now.  And I am learning a lot there and at home.  One of the biggest lessons I have learned it that I need to learn to let things go.  Things like these:

My overgrown flower bed right outside my front window and the weeding that I have avoided and run out of energy to keep up on in the other flower bed.  Summer is coming and I know I should have a garden spot ready, even just for tomatoes.  But it isn't going to happen this year.  (It barely happened last year and I wasn't working last summer.)

I have to be honest here, it irritates me that I can't keep doing everything I have always done AND still work this little job I have now.  I'm a capable woman, with brains in my head, and a healthy (for the most part) body to work with here.  And  I have the same amount of hours in the day that other people have.

But still, my weeds are over taking my flower beds, and the flower beds need attention, generally.  And I have chosen to let it go.  Not that it doesn't bother me any more, but I have to be more selective in what I spend my energy on.  And making sure my family is OK, my kids are well and happy, teaching Primary each week, getting to work each day and doing my job, and try to hold all that together is enough for now.

Maybe someday I will get a working time turner, like Hermoine had in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.  In the meantime, I am trying to choose wisely.  And learning to let it go if it isn't wise at the moment.

Video Sunday

Welcome to Summer, friends!