Jamison for President

When we were kids, the world was at our feet. People asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up and the possibilities seemed endless- doctor, lawyer, professional athlete, musician, marine biologist, fighter pilot, or maybe even the President of the United States. The prospects excited us. It didn’t matter how we planned to get from point A to point B because society told us that we could be anything we wanted to be, as if desire was the only factor. But as we grew older the waters of that endless ocean of possibilities started to recede and we found ourselves standing in the shallow tide pools. Cold, hard reality hit us in the face. We didn’t have the grades to get into law school or the money to pay for medical school, we didn’t have the physical build to be an athlete or the bone structure to be a movie star, we didn’t have the eyesight to be a pilot, and we definitely didn’t have the affiliations to be President. Clearly, it was all a lie. We could not be anything we wanted to be.

As adults, we were forced to face this new truth- some of us embraced it sooner than others- and eventually we learned to accept it. We stopped pretending to be superheroes and princesses and we strove for the less glamorous but more attainable lifestyles. We found contentment and happiness in just being ordinary us.

Adulthood may have taught us to live in the real world……but parenthood allows us to believe in the dream world once again.

This was my favorite part of taking the kids to the NAS Oceana Air Show last weekend. For the most part our Saturday was a giant disappointment. Rainy weather forced the air show officials to cancel the flights so we walked around for a couple hours, sharing two partially bent and broken umbrellas, and admired a few grounded planes and ate some greasy, overpriced concession food. We didn’t stay long before giving up and going home.

The only thing that made the event worthwhile was watching Jamie. He ran from one plane to another, leaving the rest of us behind to catch up.

He wanted to sit in the pilot’s seat of each and every helicopter.

 He chattered on and on and on without barely pausing for breath. Most of it was completely unintelligible but it was clear that he wanted to fly to “da moo’ (moon)!” He was eager to climb inside an astronaut’s suit and pose for a picture.

His face was glowing so brightly and his mind was filled with belief- that childhood belief that anything is possible and everything is attainable. Such a beautiful thing. And a powerful thing too. I found myself believing too. While I waited in line with him to tour one of the cockpits and I watched him play with his die cast jet plane wearing his toddler sized flight suit I started envisioning myself, twenty something years from now, attending his flight school graduation ceremony.

I used to laugh at parents who would say that someday their child could be President of the United States. Every parent thinks that their child is going to be the President. Obviously, most of them won’t even come close. But I see now why they all say that. We don’t tell our kids that they can be anything they want to be because we actually believe it’s true. We don’t expect them to achieve the impossible. I sometimes joke about Jamie becoming the star quarterback of a professional football team but I will be just as proud of him if he becomes a plumber or a stay-at-home dad. I want nothing more than for his life to be filled with love for God and from family and friends. The truth is that we tell our kids they can be anything they want to be because we want them to feel the happiness that comes with believing they can.

Homesick

Homesickness is a serious illness. This may sound silly but homesickness is actually very tragic and quite complicated. It’s difficult to diagnose since there are no outward telltale signs, like a revealing rash or contagious cough. Unless you have a deep personal relationship with a person (or else read their blog) you would never know that they are suffering from it. The symptoms can range from mild- a few weepy spells and long distance phone calls home- to severe. In the most serious cases, homesickness can cloud a person’s judgment, alter their perception, and lead to illogical actions. But ultimately the worst thing about homesickness is that there is no known cure.

I am so homesick. Rapidly, in the course of a few days, the illness penetrated my body and overtook my entire system. The causes are no mystery to me; a combination of factors all came together at once. First, fall made its appearance in Hampton Roads, which was a painful reminder of what I am missing. You see, fall is the season that made me first fall in love with New York- the cool weather that calls for cute knit hats and scarves, the beautiful changing leaves in all their exquisite colors, the picturesque pumpkin patches and apple orchards around every corner beckoning you to stop and enjoy the bountiful fruits of the season. I miss those things. And I yearn for my friends. Fall always seems to be a time of reconnecting with friends. After the crazy summer schedules die down and everyone settles back into a routine, that’s when the playgroups and the ladies’ nights find their way onto the calendar. But not for me, not this year. My loneliness hasn’t been much of a problem the past few months since James has been home and we’ve been enjoying time together, but this week his work load onboard the ship increased tenfold. He was barely home at all and when he was it was just enough time to exchange a few hugs and stories from the day and for him to give me the dreaded news of upcoming underways and deployments, which brought me face to face with the reality that come December I will not only want some friends to rely on, I will need friends to rely on. So in the long, cold, dark nights I have been forced to face the fact that I am very sick; homesick.

I took my self-diagnosis and attempted to self-medicate. I figured that since I can’t be in New York, I might as well try to find traces of New York in Virginia. My online search for local apple orchards turned up empty but one of my aunts, who used to live near Richmond, steered me towards a farm in Chesterfield that bragged of a pumpkin patch, corn maze, pony rides, hay rides, etc. My sister, Julie, and I made plans for our families to meet there on Saturday and enjoy a full day of fall fun together. I WAS SO EXCITED! I mean, more excited than I’ve been about anything since James’ homecoming. Yes, that excited. Here was my chance to pretend I was up north enjoying New York-like activities with the added bonus of having the companionship of a life-long friend, my sister, for a full day.

Saturday finally arrived and everything was perfect…for about an hour. We paid our $35 admission and the kids ran straight for the farm animals.

We were saving all the good stuff, like the corn maze and the pumpkin patch, for the day ahead. The kids all hovered around the rabbit pen and then made their way to the chickens, where Jamie put his hand through the fence and received a shocking peck from the dominating rooster.

We continued down the line to the goats and James purchased some food so that the kids could feed the animals.

Johnny was eager to take a handful of pellets but then wanted to keep them all to himself.

When I shook his hand and threw his stash to the chickens he screamed in angry protest.

I found it funny. After our cup of food was gone we caught a ride on the tractor train. At first we were just going to watch the kids ride around but the tractor driver insisted we ride along, and I’m glad he did. It was the highlight of my day. The kids were all so happy as we drove in one big circle around the fruit fields. These were the best pictures I took the whole day.

When we came to a stop my sister and her family had arrived. Josie had been talking about seeing her cousin Angie for days- in fact, I think it was the only thing that got her through school on Thursday and Friday.

After some hugs and a few pictures we all went to find some lunch.

But no sooner had we finished our concession stand hot dogs and nachos than the skies opened up and it began to rain. Word quickly spread that the farm was closing due to weather. My spirits sank.

Under ordinary circumstances the disappointment might not have been so unbearable, except that I was relying on this outing to act as a healing remedy for my homesickness. Now that it had been taken away, I was heartbroken. We harassed the reluctant farm attendant for a full refund and then decided to drive to Richmond to go to the Children’s Museum there. It was a nice museum but I was too sad to see it. Everywhere I looked there was a reminder of what I was missing. Specifically, Johnny’s favorite exhibit was a large imitation apple tree.

Big red balls, a.k.a. “apples,” were propelled through various tubes that wound throughout the tree top and the children collected the balls in baskets when they popped out through the holes near the bottom.

I watched the kids with delight but in the pit of my stomach there was a nagging sickness. Oh, how I miss apple picking. The other thing that was missing at the museum was that adult interaction I’d been craving. Our five kids had a marvelous time, but the four adults had to run in all different directions to watch over them so we barely had time to visit. The two and a half hour drive home was miserable. I endured the trip with a splitting headache, bouts of car sickness, and Johnny screaming in my ear the whole way. So much for this weekend making me feel better.

So what do I do now? The same thing that anyone does who is suffering from an illness to which there is no cure. Endure it and pray that time will heal. And, whenever possible, manage the pain. Phone conversations with loving friends is a great way to ease the discomfort. Christine, Kelly, and Joy- talking with you this week did wonders for my emotional health! Baking that apple pie on Friday afternoon brought me some warm, sugary comfort as well. But more than anything these are the three best doses of pain reliever available: Josie, Jamie, and Johnny.

They constantly remind me that no matter how homesick I may feel, home is always here with them.

Josie's First Week of School

I want my kids to love school. It’s not just about being good at math, science, and history. Good grades are important, but just every parent wants their child to excel. I want my children to love learning.

Josie and Jamie at preschool orientation last year, Sept. '10

I want them to know all the pleasures of academic excellence: the happiness that comes from reading a good book, the satisfaction that stems from earning a well deserved ‘A’, the pride that bubbles up inside while holding a certificate of recognition. I want them to be presidents of the math clubs and captains of the debate teams and not care what anyone else has to say about it because no amount of peer pressure could keep them from doing what they love. I want them to get out of bed every morning….okay, maybe not EVERY morning but at least most mornings….and look forward to learning something new. I want them to love going to school.

Josie, jumping for joy, on her first day of preschool. Sept. '09

Two years ago when Josie first started preschool I had many doubts and reservations. I didn’t think that preschool was necessary and I couldn’t believe it would have much of an impact on my three-year-old. But Josie quickly put all those issues to rest. She loved her school, she loved her teachers, she loved her classmates, and most importantly, she loved learning. We saw her flourish in preschool and so I anticipated that kindergarten was sure to be even better.

So you can be sure that when Josie started school last week I had high hopes and great expectations.

That being said, this is how Josie’s first week of school actually unfolded:

Day 1: We stood in front of the house in the scorching sun and unbearable humidity for over half an hour, waiting for a bus that never came. Josie was eager and excited at first but then she was just tired and frustrated and started to whine. Five minutes before school was supposed to start I loaded all the kids into the car in a hurry and we rushed Josie to school. Once we had gotten Josie to where she needed to be I talked to the bus driver and clarified that we were supposed to have met the bus on the corner of the street and not in our driveway (although no one from the school ever passed that information along to us. Thanks for nothing, Deep Creek Central.) When Josie got home from school and I asked her about her day she told me, “I don’t know. I don’t remember.” The most information I was able to pry from her stubborn lips was that they learned about the color red and her teacher gave her a candy.

Day 2: We got Josie to school on the bus successfully! I was feeling good. I was watching the clock like a hawk when it neared time to pick her up at the bus stop. We were never given an official drop-off time so I estimated that the bus would arrive around the same time it had the day before. Both the boys were asleep in their bedroom so I was trying to stay at home for as long as possible. Then, about ten minutes ahead of my assumed schedule, I heard the unmistakable sound of releasing bus breaks. I jumped out of my chair, threw open the front door, ran around the corner and sprinted down the street, chasing after the bus. Oh, and I did it barefoot. I caught up with her bus at the next stop. When the doors opened the bus driver pointed at her watch and then shook her finger at me. I know that she expressed some scolding words to go along with her gestures, but I was too distracted by the traumatized look on Josie’s tear soaked face to listen. I scooped her into my arms and carried my big 55 lbs girl all the way back to the house, huffing and puffing and apologizing with ever short breath I had left. It was awful.

Day 3: We finally put the bus drama behind us. Pick-up and drop-off went smoothly, but there were tears again when Josie came home. She said that she got in “really big trouble.” The details are fuzzy since the story comes from the mouth of a five-year-old, but apparently Josie wasn’t paying attention and cut a triangle the wrong way. She also said that her teacher asked her to sing and she didn’t want to. And then there was something about her friends playing Goldilocks and the Three Bears and no one wanted to be Goldilocks. The other girls told Josie to be Goldilocks and when she refused they told her to go to her room and when she said ‘no’ they threatened to spank her. This is all unconfirmed, mind you, but it wound Josie into quite a tizzy and was enough to warrant some parental concern on my and James’ part. During bath time that night Josie told me, with sadness on her face and sorrow in her voice, “I don’t want to go to school anymore.” I almost cried.

Day 4: The last day wasn’t as bad as the others. Josie was sad that she wasn’t good enough to get a sticker but at least she wasn’t in tears over it. They learned about the color brown and had gotten to eat a brownie, which must have been enough to make up for the lack of sticker. It seemed at first that the day had been okay. But later in the evening while we were changing into pajamas I noticed a large red welt on Josie’s right collar bone. I ran my hand over it and she cringed. An inquiry into the injury revealed that a boy at school had hit her with a toy sword while play fighting. The mark is surely going to bruise so the boy must have had a strong swing, but it does sound like it was an accident.

So with all the bus drama and the getting in “really big trouble” and the abusive friends, Josie’s first week of school was far from ideal. Nothing like what I hoped her first week would be. I fear that this kind of beginning will ruin any hope I had of Josie ever learning to love school. I thought that maybe I wouldn’t write these stories down in hopes that she might eventually forget and not be permanently scared by these events. But then I changed my mind. It can only get better from here, right? And maybe we’ll want to look back and laugh at this someday when Josie’s a teacher’s pet, an honor roll student, and student body class president. Hey, maybe she’ll even use one of these stories in her valedictorian speech.

Josie waiting for the bus on the second week of school

First things first, though. Let’s just strive for getting Josie through her second week of school.

How To Take a Hint

Do you ever feel like God is trying to tell you something? He gives us little hints, little taps on the shoulder. But we're so thick headed and stubborn that we brush them off and proceed anyways. Inevitably, we leave Him no choice but to hit us over the head with a big, heavy mallet. Thud!

Sound familiar? It's happened to all of us, and probably happened more than once to most of us. That's exactly what happened to me this weekend.

You might remember that we had big plans to make our reemergence into Civil War reenacting this weekend. A lot of time, energy, and money went into the planning and preparation. We dug through countless boxes to find our old gear, I sewed for a week to make the boys' costumes, we bought black powder and paid the pre-registration fee, and even my mom donated her money and labor to send my dress and make Josie's costume just in time for the big weekend. We thought we'd taken care of everything.

Josie in her reenacting costume

But not everything is under our control. About a week ago we found out that James' duty section schedule had been changed and, whereas he was originally going to have the whole weekend off, he now had to work on Sunday. That's okay, we figured we'd just go for one day instead of the whole weekend. Then we mapped out the trip and learned that what we assumed was something like a two hour drive was actually a four hour trip there and a four hour trip back. That's a long drive to make in one day with three kids. Then we found out that the tenant in our New York house hadn't paid rent yet and we wouldn't be seeing the check until the middle of next week. It would cost us every last penny left in our bank account if we chose to go to the reenactment, so that's when we decided, with much sadness and disappointment, to call it off. James emailed the reenacting company that we were going to join to tell them we wouldn't be able to make it. We laughed when we got the reply. Apparently we were the last to bow out and no one else from the company was going to be able to make it either, so if we had gone there wouldn't have been a company for James to fight with. And the final kick came when I woke up on Saturday morning with an awful head cold and Johnny and Josie were both showing symptoms as well. So if we had gone to the reenactment, it would have been completely miserable.

Thud! It was a big knock on the head with a heavy mallet. And it hurt. I was so sad that all that time and money and excitement went to waste on a reenacting adventure that never was. But hey, sometimes you just gotta know how to take a hint.

Constant Change

“When we say things like "people don't change" it drives scientists crazy, because change is literally the only constant in all of science. Energy. Matter. It's always changing, morphing, merging, growing, dying. It's the way people try not to change that's unnatural. The way we cling to what things were instead of letting things be what they are. The way we cling to old memories instead of forming new ones. The way we insist on believing, despite every scientific indication, that anything in this lifetime is permanent. Change is constant. How we experience change? That's up to us….If we open our fingers, loosen our grips, go with it, it can feel like pure adrenaline.” –Meredith Grey Shepherd

Don’t laugh, but I got this quote from an episode of the television show, “Grey’s Anatomy.” I realize that’s it not exactly a reputable source. I probably should have quoted an educational program by National Geographic or a documentary that was aired on The History Channel or something to that affect. But then this blog post is a far cry from a master’s thesis, so I trust I’ll get away with it. I fell in love with “Grey’s Anatomy” right after James deployed in January and I watched three or four episodes a day in those first couple of months. I just couldn’t get enough. Mock me if you will, but for a TV show it makes some powerful points about human behavior. It may just be a fictional weekday medical drama centered on a cast of eccentric surgeons, but the talented writers behind the script know that people in all walks of life can relate to the challenges that their characters face. In the episode I quoted here, the challenge was change.

It doesn’t take a Ph.D. to realize that “change is constant.”  No one is more fully equipped to confirm this scientific truth than parents. Mothers and fathers witness monumental change on an almost daily basis. We bring our babies into this world as tiny, innocent, helpless beings who can fit in the palm of our hands. Then almost overnight they are smiling and cooing and filling our hearts with more joy than we knew existed. Soon thereafter they are sitting up and flinging fists full of food across the dining room and trying our patience more than we knew was possible. Next they are crawling up the stairs and falling into the coffee table and climbing over the baby gates and causing us more worry than we think we can take. Change after change after change. Our children change. And we change. People always change. One day they are babies and we’re scratching our heads as to how to get them to sleep and the next day they are five-year-olds and we’re wondering where the bus stops.

 Change is the only constant in all of parenting. How we experience that change is up to us. I love my babies but I wouldn’t want them to stay babies forever. Whenever I find myself getting caught up on how much I miss certain things- like the way my belly would bump when they kicked me during pregnancies, or the sweet little sounds they made when they slept as newborns, or how their faces lit up when we played peek-a-boo in their infancies- I find that the important thing to remember is that for each thing I miss, there followed something equally as exciting.  

Sure, it would be easy for me to feel sad that Josie is now a kindergartener and cry, “She grew up too fast!” But I’d rather be happy. This has been an exciting week for me. Josie is changing right before my eyes and I am so proud to watch my little girl become an independent young lady. Her change is also changing me- I am adjusting to being the mom of a school aged child and I obviously have a lot of things to learn. But I’m not scared and I’m not sad.

The big yellow bus is taking our whole family on a journey and there are many new adventures along the road. Yes, I will look back fondly at those memories of my children as babies, but ultimately I will face forward with eagerness. I embrace the change.

“If we open our fingers, loosen our grips, go with it, it can feel like pure adrenaline.” – Meredith Grey Shepherd, “Grey’s Anatomy,” Season 7: Episode 1.

Children of God

Proverbs 22:6 “Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.”

 God is so good. His works and wonders never cease to amaze me. We left the house last night to attend a concert and dinner at church and I walked out the door with simple expectations of a nice time of fellowship, but by the time we’d made it home I was filled with awe at the presence of the Holy Spirit.

You can find our family at church almost every Sunday. Our kids know the drill. Babies go to the nursery, kids go to their classrooms and adults go to the sanctuary. I’m thankful for this separation so that I can actually enjoy my weekly chance to connect with God without the stress of being a mom, but this also means that I’m not usually privy to the ways my kids are being imprinted. So I found a great deal of satisfaction in my opportunity to sit beside my kids at church on Sunday night.

We arrived early and chose a row of chairs close to the stage. James sat on one end and I sat on the other, so that the kids were trapped between us. I could look down the row and see each little face.

When the music first started their postures straightened, their ears perked, and their eyes widened. As the second song began Josie pointed to one of the musicians and shouted, “I want that one!” Apparently she’d chosen him as her own. Throughout the concert she described him to me in detail, just to make sure it was clear which one she was talking about, and she continually insisted that he was her favorite. Jamie was as good as a two-year-old boy can be when he’s asked to sit still for an extended period of time. He enjoyed putting a dollar in the offering plate when it came around. Even Johnny, who had been all wiggles at first, sat still in my lap and gazed attentively at the quartet as they sung, save for the few times he glanced over my shoulder to admire the little 18 month old girl named Lily who was sitting in the next row. And when there was a short intermission Johnny asked for more music by pointing at the stage then clapping his hands and saying, “mah, mah!” He did this several times. Near the end of the concert the kids were restless so I took them over to a nearby field to play in the grass and an elderly church member approached us and handed out lollipops to the kids. It was all adorably cute to watch.

But the thing that struck me most powerfully was not the obvious cuteness on the surface, but it was what was happening deeper down inside. I was watching the Holy Spirit work in my children’s lives. There weren’t any doves descending from heaven and resting on their shoulders. No, but in a thousand subtle ways they were receiving Jesus’ message of love and grace. They were watching strong men use their gifts for God. They were hearing the name of Jesus being lifted up in praise. They were surrounded by fellow believers and feeling the love of a church family. They were saying prayers and giving offering. And, if nothing else, they were learning that church is a great place to meet cute boys and future girlfriends!

For now they are simply little by-standers. They’re still too young to fully understand the complex reasons behind the gathering and the singing and the praying. But someday very soon, before we even know it, they will be asking the tough questions and making the big decisions. I hope that they will carry positive feelings from experiences like this one around with them, somewhere back in their subconsciouses, and use those to help them find the right answers and make the right choices. It is my belief, my desire, and my most solemn prayer that through constant contact with the Holy Spirit my children will grow with the knowledge of Christ. I am proudly raising my children as children of God. This is the only thing in the wide world of parenting about which I can say I am absolutely sure I am doing right.

Somewhere Between The Seasons

Autumn is in the air! I can smell it, feel it, and taste it. It tastes like juicy hot dogs straight off the grill. It feels like a crisp breeze whisping by and rustling the leaves in the trees. It smells like oiled leather on a well-worn football. My senses are tingling, alerting me to the arrival of fall- my most favorite season of all.  But just because I’m eager for the start of autumn doesn’t mean that I’m quite ready to say good bye to summer. Especially since this summer has been particularly impactful to us and we hate to see it go. That’s why we’re happy to be living somewhere in the in-between.

We started the week off with a trip to the beach. Maybe it was because others knew that summer was drawing to a close, or maybe it was because they were still recovering from Hurricane Irene, but the beach was practically empty. There was plenty of space to stretch out and enjoy ourselves. Josie put her newly acquired body board to good use and taught herself how to body surf. Once she’d got the knack of it, she refused to quit. She rode wave after wave after wave with a huge smile on her face, even if she had just gulped down a mouthful of seawater.

The boys were entertained solely by a couple of large holes in the sand.

They climbed in and out and splashed in the pools of water at the bottom.

I just love to see them all so happy. There’s a special glow to everyone lately, now that the whole family is together.

Later that same day we threw our own little tailgate party in the back yard, in full fall fashion. It started off with a game of tackle football. Now, as you know, football is a very important part of this family’s makeup. God knows we watch the game enough. Josie knows that her favorite team is the blue one and she can cheer, “Go Colts!” at the appropriate times. We’ve played toss inside the house every so often and Jamie recognizes a “bubal” when he sees one.  But this was really the first time that we actually played. The kids are just now getting old enough to grasp the concept of rules and teams and have the motor skills to throw and catch. Ours was an unconventional game, to be sure, and it mostly consisted of Josie running around in circles grasping the football in her arms,

occasionally passing it off to Mommy who would pass it back when she saw Daddy barreling down, while Jamie chased close behind trying to pull her down into the mud,

and Johnny standing in the middle with his little arms waving eagerly and his voice screeching loudly, which in baby talk meant, “I’m open! Pass me the ball!”

It is already an unforgettable memory that I wanted to be sure to commemorate here for posterity. Once the game was over and the grill was smoking we sat down on the porch and ate some hot dogs and bratwursts.

And then to complete the night we all roasted some ooey-gooey s’mores.

Well, Johnny didn’t actually roast them but he did wander around the patio begging bites off of everyone else and ended up with a very funny Hitler-esque marshmallow mustache.

Later in the week I bought a slip n’ slide on clearance for $4. Gotta love end of the season sales! I figured that it would be worth the money even if we only got one weekends’ use out of it. But by the time we got home from the store and I saw the sky filled with menacing grey clouds, I was having second thoughts. I took a poll and the kids agreed unanimously (Johnny voted via proxy) that we’d ignore the weather. There was slipping and sliding galore and no one cared that according to conventional wisdom the temperatures weren’t quite summery enough. Josie sang a rousing rendition of Pink’s So What and the slide became her rock star stage.

This was brought on by the temporary tattoo she’d gotten from a vending machine earlier in the day and was now wearing proudly on her forearm. Jamie was reluctant to participate at first, on a strike because I insisted he had to at least wear a diaper so the neighbors wouldn’t be subjected to his nudity while we played, but he came around once I brought out the pink inner tube.

Johnny got thrown down the slide on his belly once and then picked up the inflatable board and tried doing it all by himself, which left me extremely impressed by his level of comprehension.

After about an hour though the shivers were starting to set in and it was obvious that we had to call it quits. So we headed inside for dinner and made some piping hot alphabet soup. (We’re trying to make sure those canned foods we bought for the hurricane don’t go to waste.) Mmmm!

So here we are, somewhere between summer and fall and loving the variety it has to offer. We’re not quite ready to be done with all the fun we’ve been having the past few months but we are excited to embrace the coming adventures of a new season. By now I'm sure you've figure out that you are meant to read that sentence both literally and figuratively. It adequately prefaces our upcoming venture, which is to send Josie off to kindergarten. She starts on Tuesday, so stay tuned for the full story….