Go time

Emma and Mark came and helped me label all the things.

I sat in three separate meetings (one was super short).

My blood pressure rose when I read all the emails.

Everyone has their agenda and they want me to put it first.

I clarified policies, I made a spreadsheet, I made copies, I stood in line to get my picture taken.

(I hate getting my picture taken.)

I laughed a lot because teacher friends are funny friends.

Right before I left my classroom, I felt this excited/dread/surreal feeling.  

Ready or not, here they come....

Where I'm at

On Saturday, Marianne called and when I answered she said, "Are you out of breath?"

I think so.

All day.

Everything feels like a lot.

Friday was back to school night.  Here was my classroom:

The projector on the ceiling is an exciting new development.  It used to be in a different location and I've been campaigning for months to get it moved and the electrician finally came and did the final work on Friday!

A few parents commented on all the desks.  Are you going to fill all these seats?  How big is your class?

I met a lot of my students.  Some of them were shy.  Some of them were not.  A few of them followed me around and interrupted me from talking to other people.  One boy quizzed me over and over again about how he was going to be able to get Skittles.  I have four students who are younger siblings of former students.  One of them gave me a treat and hugged me.  A few parents took me aside and confided real challenges their children have.  All I can do is gulp and smile and say a cheery OK!

There will be some language barriers.  I can see that already.  I can also see that they are adorable and have endearing personalities and I'm so excited.  I'm ready to dive in.

And also Friday night when one of the other teachers asked me if I was ready, I laughed out loud and he said, "Yeah, that seems like a perfect response."

In my other hand, I'm also holding the fact that Mark is leaving on Saturday.  Adam and I both feel this deep sadness over it and also we feel excited for him.  It's confusing to have so many emotions at once.

Saturday, I devoted lots of time to spend with Mark.  We went to Salt Lake to pick up the insulin that Marianne brought that Mark left in Nevada.  (It takes a village.) We also went to a few stores.  I'm at the shopping stage.  I think it is one of the stages of grieving when you have a child leave home.

In my mind, he will be fine if I just buy the right stuff.  And if he's fine, I'll be fine.  It's putting a lot of pressure on a box of bandaids, but here we are.

It was restorative for me to spend a good part of the day with Mark.  We talked about intense things.

Not really.

Mark just gave me that look because my kids are weirdos. 

We talked a lot about my new school year and about college and the state of the world and he told me about his previous night with his friends.

I think the upcoming week will not be easy.

Here's hoping my class will distract me from feeling sad about Mark leaving and evenings spent with Mark will distract me from feeling overwhelmed about my class.

That will work, right?

Grateful Friday

Mark came home last night.  Before leaving Wells, he had a low blood sugar incident and it scared him and me.  He didn't have everything he needed and hopefully he will do better remembering after the scare.

I purely hated it.

When he got home, we hugged.  About ten times.

He was unpacking his things and I said, "Mark, I have something to tell you, so brace yourself."

He said, "OK, what?"

I said, "You have diabetes."

I went on with a little lecture about how he needed to always be ready for an emergency.  Then I said, "OK, end of lecture."

He smiled at me and said, "I've missed our little talks."

I'm glad he's home and grateful he's safe.

And I don't want him to go to college.

But I also do, because of course I do.

But I also don't.

Motherhood is no fun.

Empty nest: trial period

Well, I miss Mark.  I do.  He's my baby and always will be, but he's also sort of my buddy too.  I am used to checking in with him when I get home.  We would tell each other about our days and I would ask him a few times if he had homework because I would forget to listen to his answer.  I miss him.

And with Emma here, it still feels like an empty nest.  She's a grown up girl and independent.

I came home beyond tired yesterday.  Even though I felt like I'd been planted at my desk all day, I still got over 10,000 steps on my fitbit.  Being a teacher is an active pursuit and I don't even have students yet.  We have a new math curriculum and a new phonics curriculum and my brain hurt from trying to wrap my mind around the newness.  Janelle and I made copies and plans and curriculum maps and unit learning plans.  It was a busy day.

I looked fondly at what I had planned to make for dinner and I thought, yeah, that's not going to happen.  I took Emma to Walmart with me because I needed to get some things and I needed company.  I said, "If we see something at Walmart that seems good for dinner, we'll get it, otherwise, we'll go to Wendy's."

Wendy's it was.  What did I think was going to be good for dinner at Walmart?  

Adam had church meetings so when we got home and had sent him on his way, I asked Emma if she needed me for anything.  She cheerfully said, "Nope!"

I wanted to just sit and watch a blank wall but I did have some computer work to do and I was happy that no one needed me for anything else.

So here's the thing about the empty nest:  I may be just as spotty with my homemaking and mothering practices, but I no longer feel any guilt about it.

That's something.

Amping up

Long focused days in my classroom are back.  I have loved chatting with other teachers over the hum of the copy machines.  We're happy to be back together.  

I heard children's voices in the hall because some teachers were testing yesterday.  It made me happy.  

I have figured out how to fit 34 desks in my classroom and it feels slightly insane but this is the world I live in.

I did the mandatory district training.  Canvas is soul deadening.

I took a plant for Kate's classroom.  I told her philodendrons are impossible to kill, then I admitted I knew of two people who had killed them.  Still.  

The custodian told me that I am getting a new countertop and cabinets for my classroom.  He said it usually takes about 6 months and they were ordered at the beginning of summer.  So maybe it will be my Christmas present!  That will be amazing!

I also found out Janelle's classroom is 25 square feet bigger than mine.

Humph.

I saw two of my former students and they smiled shyly and one of them came up to me for a hug, then hesitated, then hugged me anyway.  

I have a BIG class this year.  Will I love them as much as my classes in the past?  

I'm pretty sure I will.

Strong like Margaret

When I was pregnant with Emma, I had to climb 100 stairs back to our apartment from the basement laundry facilities.  I had bulky laundry bags and one-year-old Braeden to tow along with me.  Toward the end of the pregnancy, I would contemplate those stairs and think of Margaret Gardner, my ancestor who crossed the plains.  She gave birth 9 days after reaching the Salt Lake Valley.  That bolstered my courage.  If Margaret could do that, then I could climb those stairs.  Her blood is in my veins.

Sunday night, I sent Mark to Nevada.  Solo.  Marianne and Robert generously hired him to work for them for several days.  I felt trepidation about the whole thing.  There was all of the don't drive too fast, watch out for deer, take care of all the diabetes stuff, but then there was also the anticipation that in a few weeks, we'll be sending him to college.  This is just a sampling of that.

I am not sure I am equal to the task.

I know they can't stay little forever, but why not?  I think of my two boys, moving away within two days of each other.  I wish I could have had these smirking faces for a little longer:

I remembered my grandma though, Margaret Dahl.  When they lived in Virginia, she put her sons, my uncles, on a bus for Nevada.  They were 9 and 11 years old.  That bolstered my courage.  If Margaret could do that, then I could send my boys on their way.  Her blood is in my veins.

This keeps rolling through my mind.

Families

On Thursday, Desi and Mason were married.  It was wonderful.  An eternal family was created.  I loved being in the temple with so many family members.  I loved the glowing smiles on the happy couple's faces.  I loved squeezing Adam's hands while I listened to the marriage covenants being made.  It matters. I loved that Adam pointed to a box of Kleenex before we went to the sealing room and said, "Do yourself a favor."

He wasn't wrong.

We went to a luncheon following the temple, hosted by Mason's parents.  It was lovely and Desi's and Mason's friends entertained us with their speeches and performances.  Accompanied by Liberty on the piano, my sweet nieces and Mason's sister sang "Young Love" which my sisters and I sang at Marianne and Robert's wedding reception.

I sat by Tabor so I would have been entertained even if there hadn't been a little program.

From there I went with my parents.  We spent a little time with my grandma.  She is 94 and understandably feeble.  It is a hard stage of life.  As I was watching her struggle in and out of the car while we tried to help her, I was struck by how much I love her.  She has always been a beacon of kindness in my life.  Her generosity and support lifted our family.

I went to Costco with my mom.  We separated, looking for the trail mix my mom was after.  I found it and then I started looking for my mom and I was transported back to my childhood when I would wander off at Albertsons and then scan the aisles for my mom.  Shopping with your mom is like riding a bicycle.

I rode to Nevada with my parents.  We stopped for dinner and I said I would buy them dinner and they would not have it.

They bought me dinner.  They said, "You're our Patty Punkety."  I have no idea where I got that nickname but it has been mine all these years and apparently it explains why I can't buy them dinner.

I stayed at my parents' house, an only child.  I think I could count on one hand the times that has happened.

We went to Marianne's the next morning.  She had a notebook of lists and directions and recipes.  Someone would ask her a question and she would rapidly flip through the pages to find the answer.  She was sending people all sorts of directions and smiling and thanking people right and left. She also kept making my mom sit down.

Which isn't an easy task. 

But Marianne is a force to be reckoned with.  I'd go into battle with her and her lists.

She and Desi were sort of the wedding dream team because Marianne was the logistical and culinary whiz and Desi had strong opinions and planning skills with the decorations and general aesthetic and they stayed out of each other's way.  Desi and Mason didn't get there until mid afternoon but Desi's roommates were there and they had been given their own marching orders.

Olivia hosted us all for lunch, which was a generous and genius move because Marianne's kitchen was sort of a war zone.

It all came together beautifully and I loved spending the day with my mom and sisters and nieces, churning out salads and following orders.

And, in full disclosure, giving a few.  I took the tablecloths in hand and I got a little bossy.

In the late afternoon, we took a break to get ourselves ready and I sat in my parent's living room, visiting with them and Tabor.

At the reception, the lovely reception, I enjoyed more visiting.  My parents sat with my dad's siblings down the table from where I was sitting with mine.  I love the way we gravitate to each other.

We stayed long enough for the cake cutting, bouquet throwing and first dance.  Robert and Desi danced together to a song Hyrum had recorded before leaving for Ghana.  Hearing that boy strum the guitar and sing while Robert and Desi danced....

Adam wasn't there to warn me to prepare with Kleenex.

Emma and Mark and I headed back to Utah (they had driven there that afternoon and Adam had to stay and work).

I drove awhile and then Mark took over.  

The conversation drifted to Mark's all too soon college adventure.  I started down the oft repeated refrain:  go to Institute!  Get involved in your ward!  Study!

Then Emma started talking to him and I buttoned my lips.

Her advice is about 1000 times more credible to him than mine.  

These few days reminded me of how grateful I am for families.  What an amazing blessing to be organized into groups of people that love each other and help each other and learn from each other.

And how wonderful is it that they can last forever!

I didn't take pictures, but I nabbed a few on Facebook, as is my habit.

Clarissa, Timeon, Marianne, Mason, Deseret, Robert, Liberty, Morgan and Carolina.  One of my favorite families in the world!

The bridesmaids.  My pretty girl is the 4th from the left, standing.

Clarissa and Timeon and Matty (Timeon's cousin) performed a Kiribati dance and it was awesome.

Carolina made and decorated the cake.  I could give you a whole run down of the unique contributions each of Marianne's children made to the affair.  It is a lesson in valuing variety. (I did outline it all for my kids because I loved it so much.)