All This Spare Time

Some of the ones I love most.

Teaching takes up a whole lot of time, but frankly, for the first time since I started teaching AT ALL whether it was in my major or in my career, I have time to do things BESIDES write lesson plans or panic because the lesson plans still aren't written.


It's glorious.


GLORIOUS.


So what do I do with all this ample spare time? Well the first thing I do is let you know that "ample" is a gross exaggeration, but let's think of the glass as half full. We'll say ample.


The other thing I do is love people.


I love Paul. We go on walks and talk about the future and our game plan and instill in each other the confidence necessary to move the mountains in front of us. And we admire, without ANY reservation, how dang cute our Lovey-girl is.



I love Grace. We go on walks too, and freeze our cheeks and look at the sky. Then we dance to some more Broadway tunes and she doesn't mind that my voice isn't quite as good as the one on the radio. But by golly, I sing my heart out for that kid. And we try more new foods. Like green beans. Grace has a low tolerance for green beans. The first 6 bites were good. Then she did this shuttery gag thing which I interpreted as meaning that she was done. In short. She liked them for 6 bites and then she hated them. And that seems like a normal way to handle a new food, even for a grown-up.



I love my mom. I call her. A lot. For like 12 minute intervals. And we talk about her and we talk about me and we talk about being moms and being teachers and being friends. And then we tell each other that we better go because it's time to go love someone else. 12 minutes seems to be the perfect amount of time. As long as there are TONS of 12 minute chunks.



I love my sisters. I call them, or visit. And we laugh. And we cry. And we talk about how to be better moms and better wives and why we love our children and our husbands. And we confess our mistakes and our fears and take solace in the fact that we aren't the only ones making those same mistakes or battling those same fears. We take care of each other. And that's really saying something because technically, my sisters are sisters-in-law with their very own "real" sisters but they claim me anyway and it means the world to me.



And I love my friends. My other sisters. The giants of women in my life. Who I will sit next to on rocking chairs one day, and we'll laugh, and we'll cry, and we'll remember, and we'll glory in the gift that we are to each other.



And somehow the lesson plans get done, too.



But only AFTER I flirt with Paul.


Shamelessly.

A Candid Look at the Last 20 Minutes

8:56 Grace was pretty mad a second ago. Not sure if that little lovey is going to sleep yet. I think she may be hungry still. That or her teeth hurt. Teething is the pits.

Tangent: So in spite of Wednesday night---you know the one where Paul found me in the fetal postion on an unmade bed with tears running down my cheeks and a baby yelling from her crib, you know, THAT Wednesday night, so inspite of THAT---Thursday night was perfect. The house was picked up, my classroom was put back together, I was a loving wife, a playful mom, Paul was home, and Grace slept all night. It was SO nice after Wednesday's fiasco.

8:57 She's still not sleeping. I think she wants more food. And maybe some Tylenol. It could be a long evening. Hang on.

9:04 I am back. She ate more and had some Ora-gel. She's still fussing. Sad face.

Tangent: I swear, when I put her down and she has her little fusses, my ears go on super-human decibel detection. I can hear the beginning of a fuss before she's even convinced herself that she wants to fuss. I am not sure what's wrong tonight (teeth?), but nights like this where I put her to bed multiple times are frustrating. And to be honest, I think her ears go on super human decibel detection too. And she picks up on EVERY sound that might indicate that SOMEONE SOMEWHERE is going to get her up.

9:05 Wait. Hold it. She stopped fussing.

9:06 This very moment I am pushing off hope that she is down for the night because---I have learned the hard way---Hope wakes her up too.

Tangent: She did however, love sweet potatoes, gnawing on celery sticks, and painting with apple sauce earlier this evening. I entertained us both by singing random Broadway Hits that played on Pandora. I think she likes it when I sing. That's the stuff that made tonight (Friday) perfect. That and how she smiles SUPER huge in the bathtub. And how there's nothing more precious than a tiny naked baby splashing in the tub. Really. There isn't.

9:08 It's getting harder to push off the hope that she is down for the night.

Tangent: It's not that I don't want her awake to play with, it's just that when she is supposed to go to bed and she doesn't, I know it's the beginning of a long night. And truthfully, some of those nights have some very wonderful memories attached to them (like a baby coping with her cold by licking her Mama's chin and her mama laughing so hard that tears fall) but really, the mama finds herself getting more and more desperate for sleep and the next day, it's the daddy who seems to hear the most about the lack of sleep. Ummm...Sorry about that Lover.

9:10 She's out. Let's see how long this lasts.

Tangent: Lately, I have become and expert at the art of being REALLY QUIET. So that the sleeping baby stays asleep. I swore I would raise babies who slept in spite of noise. I read all those books. Well. I lied. Some battles, at the end of the day, aren't worth fighting. Mainly because it's the end of the day. And I am WAY too tired. Plus, with Super Human Noise Hearing Girl just two walls away, I am bound to lose anyway.

So I am just quiet.

9:16 Good night Tiny Girl.

Not to the swift

Me and Him. June 2008

College for him has been rough.
Like a race that everyone said he had to run.
They said it was really important.
So he agreed to run.

But he only knew some of the rules.
And even the rules he knew, he didn't understand.
But he ran.
And, inevitably, he fell.
Because he still didn't know the rules.

He ran again.
And, again, he fell.
Because the rules still didn't make sense.
But all the coaches kept saying it was really important to run this race.
So off he ran.
Just to fall.
Again.


So instead of finishing that lap, he stumbled off to the bleachers to have himself a good think.
He thought about why he was running.
He thought about whether or not it really was as important as they all said it was.
He thought about the rules
The mental ones, and the social ones, and the emotional ones, and the physical ones.
The ones he kept breaking,
The ones that kept him falling.
And he thought and he thought and he thought.


And then he prayed.


And then he ran again.
And the rules were making more sense.
And he ran because HE knew it was an important race.
And he may have tripped a time or two more, but he was done falling.


And now he's got one more lap.
And he knows the track.
And he knows the rules.
And he knows his Coach.
And he knows his two greatest fans.
And he runs for them.
And for himself.


And in April,
He'll break that final ribbon.
And the victory will be sweet.
For all of us.


And know what?
He's signing up for the next race.
And me and her are going to watch him run
And cheer for him till our lungs break.

I'm a Believer

Me = urgert, passionate, busy

Him = meticulous, controlled, calm



North and South



When we first got married I would tease him that it took him forever to wash the dishes...Gently tease because a girl would be a fool to critize a willing helper.

He, in turn, would tease me that I always missed stuff on the plates. The jest was only fair at that point...and true.



So we comprimised:
I wash the dishes quickly, and when he rises them, he'll send them back through if they don't pass the sanitation test.
Final Product:
Clean dishes real fast.



But I'm always getting things done fast. (Not always well, but fast)
And when yesterday came around, I was tired down to my soul
and it was only Monday.

I was sure that I had hours of work to do.
But I went to bed anyway.
Appartently my soul is a stronger force to be reckoned with than just my body.
My soul demands sleep while my body just suffers (that is until my soul pipes up.)



When I woke up this morning, I told myself NO MATTER WHAT
I will not be frantic today.





"Like Paul," I said.
"Try to be like Paul today.
See if it really works."
Because I've had my doubts...



10 minutes before school started:
"Hey, Rebekah, how are you?"
"Fine, you see, I am exerting every possible ounce of self-control I possess because I promised myself I would not be frantic today. How are you?"
Everything that HAD to be done before school started, got done.



A parent came in unexpectedly to observe.
No stress.
Okay, fine, that was a lie.
There WAS stress.
A lot.
But not as much.
Not as much stress (Brain Reagan voice again)



Couldn't find something for a lesson
(organized people shouldn't RE-organize too much.
It gets confusing.
I couldn't remember WHICH logical thought I used when I last made the decision about where to put that one thing away.)
But I stayed calm.
With the help of a minor Godly intervention,
I found it,
because I was still enough to hear the revelation.



And that belt/ girrdle/ stirrup/ tourniquet/ thing that makes the car keep working...
It broke.
Enter obscene amount of money here ---> $______.__
And it's okay.
Not peachy.
DEFINITELY not peachy.
But okay.



Because I hadn't been frantic so far.
Why start now?



And I have this feeling,
inspite of previous doubt,
That Paul's right on this one.
But the question remains,
Am I tough enough to try it again tomorrow?





And this has nothing to do, whatsoever, with my thoughts today except that Grandma B is the bomb.com.

I never saw a cuter witch. Though little Cousin Hailey was tough competition. Mother's bias, you understand.

I just really wanted to show you these...

See my tiny girl right there?


Some people have a gift.


My friend, Kristine (LuckyLimePhotography), shared hers with me, and now we have this beautiful part of our lives captured forever.

It still amazes me that my body did that.

And I can't wait/could wait forever/but mostly can't wait to do it again.

But I'm still pretty okay with waiting.

Maybe you know what I mean.

No, that's not just the photography.

He really is that good looking.


And, I'm still okay with waiting...for now.

Coulda. Shoulda.

I am not always sure these days what goes on my

Could Be Doing List

as opposed to my

Should Be Doing List.

It's tricky.

But rest assured.

I am ALWAYS DOING.

Sleep is viewed, foolishly, as an option.

WHY? WHY? WHY?

My day is full of prioritizing and re-prioritizing because what I thought an hour ago was a "had-to-be-done-thing" didn't actually get done. But that was then and this is now, and it's no longer the thing that has to be done. Except it does. Only not as much. Not as much need-to-be-done. (And that line can only be properly voiced if you have inserted the Brian Reagan skit about Cherry and Grape Favorites, keeping the tone and changing the words. Not important. Moving on.)

The point is, it's tricky.

All this juggling.

But sometimes, it's not. Because sometimes there is only one ball to juggle. And you named her Grace. Because Grace means strong, (and a million other things) and that's what she is. Your strength (and a million other things.)

And sometimes you pick her up from her Aunt's house because Daddy was at the dentist. And

the minute you see her, you know all she needs is a nap.

So you take her home. And love her up. And swaddle her like a tiny mummy because that's how she likes it. And you kiss her ears and nose and mouth and cheeks and head.

And then do it once more just for love.

And lay her in her tiny bed.

To sleep.

Because that's what she needs.

And then.

She screams.

A desperate yell.

You rush to her.

Pick her up.

And she immediately drops off to sleep.

Right there in your arms.

And a smile crosses your lips.
And a sigh rests your soul.

Because your Grace didn't just need a nap.

She needed to be Home.

And YOU are her Home.

And the privilege of being that tiny girl's Home fills you with gratitude (and a million other things).

So you sleep.

Together.

This time,

it's not an option.

And the Could Be Doing, and Should Be Doing Lists are perfectly clear.

You could be, and you should be, and you are

Home.

I. As in Me.

Yep.

I am still here.

But when I think about that I--- I realize how much it's changed.

That I has been stretched, molded, expanded, grown, and loved.

And that I teaches school, so that I has probably been hated for at least a few minutes, too.

But that I has a way of winning 'em over, so it's likely they were very short minutes.

Hopefully.

I sit here though---as this changed I---trying to conjure up something meaningful to say but the truth is, I'm worn out. All my creative energy has been used up today. But I had it this morning and it was used up on good good people. So I think that it's okay that it's used up.

One of those good people did get pretty mad at me today.

10 year olds aren't always reasonable---but lots of times they are, so I don't hold it against them. Usually. Besides teaching is good practice for mom-ing. Nothing like the real game, but remarkably good practice just the same.

Being a mom makes me love other kids more, too. It does.

I love them all more.

Because I know that some other mom like me is loving her kid, hoping the grown-ups that spend the day with the kid love her, too.

I'm the other grown up---And---I'm the other mom.

So I love those kids more.

For their moms. For me.

I didn't decide to.

It just happened.

Sometimes it's hard.

Working away from home.

It wasn't what I pictured doing, exactly.

At all.

But I'm sustained.

Just as I was promised in my heart I would be if I did this hard thing.

And you know what, I am happy.

Really.

Really I am happy.

And I am Really Happy.

I wasn't expecting that.

Also,

I am In Love.

With her.

And with him.

So maybe that's why I am happy. Really happy. Because when the day is done. They are mine. Still.

And even with all the change, the new I belongs.

She fits.

With them.

So----if your curious. Here she is.

And yes, that is my ultra-cool mom voice.