My Pearl Harbor

 Grace was born on December 7, 2000. There are many moments that I will never forget about the day of her birth. It will always be one of the greatest moments of my life.  But lately, one memory that has been in my mind  is relative to my Grandpa Schlater. My Grandma volunteered in the giftshop in the hospital where Grace was born. She came to my room and, together, very excited, we called Grandpa to tell him of Grace's arrival. I was greeted with his typical, wonderful, bellowing "hhhheeeyyyyyyy!!!!!"  He asked how I was, how she was, how Bryan was... and then he paused and he said "Congratulations, Sara... I can't wait to meet her. It is a shame about her birthday though." I didn't get it.

December 7 is the anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor. I realized that part of it, but I didn't understand the gravity of his sentiment. I knew that my Grandpa was a veteran. He served in the military and remembered the attack on Pearl Harbor. I knew all of this but I didn't understand any of it. It wasn't that I didn't try to understand it -  I just wasn't equipped with the experience to appreciate it.  In fact, I forgot the comment completely until nine months later.

I was teaching high school English---ninth grade English to be exact. Freshman. We were talking about metaphors and personification  in T.S. Eliot poetry. My students found it difficult to believe that Andrew Webber had made millions off of turning these cat poems into a Broadway Musical. They were not buying it. We were laughing and enjoying the class and I saw my friend Lori at my door. She looked panicked. She is one of my very best friends and I could tell that this was urgent, so I walked over to the door and she grabbed me by both arms and said "The World Trade Center in New York was just hit by a plane. It is really bad. Do you think it was an accident?"  I was silent. It could have only been seconds--- but it seemed as though the silence went on for so long. And, in that time I tried to measure so many things and I realized  I couldn't comprehend this and because I couldn't fully comprehend it, I couldn't explain it to my students. I remember thinking that if it wasn't an accident, this was likely the start of World War III, and I made a conscious choice NOT to share it with my students. I went back to my class and continued teaching poetry--- I made a choice to preserve their innocence. This could have been the last few minutes of innocence my students had before they were "in the know," before they realized the presence and potential of evil and destruction. I just wanted to keep them safe.

The bell rang. Classes changed and it wasn't long before the kids knew what was happening. My AP students raged that this was a part of world history and they would do whatever I wanted for homeowrk, but could they please watch the news to see what was happening. One of my students had a family member in New York. Another had a mom who worked at Wright Patt. "Please, Mrs. Olding...we can't focus anyway---we are too worried." So, we watched together. We watched the coverage. We held hands and cried as one of the towers fell. They looked to me for an explanation that I didn't have. They asked questions I couldn't answer. I knew we would never forget the moment we were sharing, but I had nothing to offer them. I was lost. It was awful. AWFUL.

That night at home I was telling Bryan how helpless I felt. By this time it was clear that this attack was planned. The murder of thousands of innocent people was planned. The terror the people must have felt. The horror for their families must have felt as they were notified. I was disgusted, frightened, angry,  and confused.  We were watching coverage of the news and we were both so incredibly upset by all of it. Ironically, the phone rang and one of my close friend's husbands had called to tell me that my friend was is labor. I remember feeling the need to pray for her. One of my prayers was that God spare her child of having the birthday of September 11. No child should have to suffer that.

It was in that prayer that I remembered my Grandpa's sentiments when Grace was born. I realized --- I finally understood what Pearl Harbor was to him. I  knew that it wouldn't matter how many September 11ths passed, the pain would never go away. The world had changed from what I once knew. It couldn't be the same again. I finally got it.

I never had the courage to share any of that with my Grandpa. He was "larger than life" and I always felt like my small thoughts had no place in his important world. However, I never looked at him the same way after that. I had always respected him, revered him. But now I had the experience, as awful as it was, to understand what Pearl Harbor was to him. It was what September 11th would be for me.

I may have never spoke to him of this story...but there isn't a class that has passed through Sidney High School since 2001 who hasn't heard it. All of my students understand what it means when the calendar shows December 7 and September 11.  Even though he has been gone for years, he continues to teach  generations about what it means to be American.

 I get it Grandpa. I finally get it.


I miss you so much.

Summer's End

" One cannot collect all the beautiful seashells on the beach.

One can collect only a few, and they are more beautiful if they are few."

- Anne Morrow Lindbergh

There are a good many reasons why I think I am lucky to be a teacher. Most of them are difficult to explain to others who are not educators because until you have actually witnessed a student move from confusion to mastery or from fear to courage or from insecurity to confidence the description of it sounds like a cheesy Lifetime movie. It is real though. Often is buried in months of repetition and patience...but it is real.  As a mom, being a teacher means I am grateful for the summer.  I love the time it allows me to spend with my family, but even before I had kids--- I loved the summer. 

Most people would think it is simply because I get the "time off."  While that is a part of it, it certainly isn't the most legitimate part. I am a worker by nature. I find a lot of joy in working. The thing I love about summer is that it is a part of the cycle. There is a concrete beginning and a concrete end to a school year. The summer comes and goes each year, but the real lesson for me has been in trying to master the cycle. How many people get a "do over" every year? Not just a professional "do over" but a "do over" of how time should be spent. In past years I have filled my summer with projects, classes, garage sales, camps for the kids, intense cleaning and organizing--- I have filled it with  BUSY. This summer I made a conscious decision to do something different.  I wanted to spend time observing instead of doing. It was time well spent.

While I was observing I noticed a lot of things:

* most problems can be solved in the quiet of my project room
* my kids love to be home in their pajamas...even at 2 PM
* life is more fun if you don't wear shoes all day
* laundry never ends... and that is OK
* C.J. still says "lellow" instead of "yellow"...and it melts me every time
* I have missed reading poetry and I am glad I re-discovered it
* my kids appreciate eye contact, in fact they deserve it when they are talking to me
* the best view in town is in my rear view mirror when all three of my kids are singing Jason Aldean's "Dirt Road Anthem"
* Evie likes for me to snuggle her in the morning when she gets up and it is one of the last things that makes her little.
* I would rather listen to music than watch t.v.--- and so would my kids
* it is OK to not have a plan
* Grace is one of my favorite people to talk to and I miss her when she isn't home
* my backyard was a good purchase
* doing a puzzle with C.J. and Evie is more fun than whatever I thought I needed to do
* I spend too much time using the sweeper and not enough time making the messes
* time passes differently when you stop looking at the clock
* happiness is a choice

Seashells are more beautiful if you take the time to collect a few of them and study them. I tried to remember that this summer. Lindbergh preaches about the importance of observation in her book. I tried to collect the days of summer and study them for what they had to offer rather than fill them with all of the things I thought I should be doing. I am less prepared for this school year, but I am more refreshed than I have been in a long time.  I have to believe my students will benefit from that.

Who knows what the school year will bring, or next summer for that matter, but what I do know is that I will always appreciate the "do-over." I can't avoid the BUSY forever, but I gave it a hell of an effort his summer and it was worth every minute.

Genevieve

"Steady as a preacher, free as a weed."

This is Genevieve. At eight years old, she embodies this lyric by Lady Antebellum. Boundaries do not exist, she truly is as free as a weed. If possible she would never wear shoes, she prefers singing and dancing to talking and walking, and if we would let her, she would live outside.  While these qualities make her difficult to parent, they also make her a whole lot of fun.

We are a dance party family. From the time Evie was a baby we would hold living room dance parties. She and her sister would dance to Disney Princess songs. Then, we graduated to Miley Cyrus and High School Musical. Next was Taylor Swift. Now we live in the land of the ipod where songs switch from Katy Perry to Johnny Cash to Pink to... you get the picture. The dance parties have become more elaborate over the years. Often they require microphones (wooden spoons turned upside down), party shoes (high heels from my closet), and the occasional baseball cap turned backwards (for Run D.M.C. and Vanilla Ice---we kick it old school at times). The dance party generally happens after dinner while Bryan and I clear the dishes. Originally this got toddlers out from under our feet, but over the years it has turned into something the kids will barter for. Even C.J., who is three will ask "can we have dance party tonight, Mama?" My kids will do just about anything for a good dance party.  

It was no surprise that Evie wanted to share this ritual with her friends. We don't do birthday parties with friends, but we do allow parties. Evie knows this. One must be careful with the information one shares with Evie as it will come back to bite one in the butt. And so, "The Back to School Backyard Dance Party of 2011" came to be.

It grew too big for the living room. We had to pitch a party tent in the backyard. Then, we needed lights. Then balloons and feathers and glitter spray. The playlist (created by Evie on a piece of notebook paper) was over 35 songs strong. There would be pictures and snacks and hats and sunglasses and masks... and fun... lots and lots of fun. While I never would have predicted it, watching third graders dance under a tent filled with lights was a great way to end the summer. 

There were funny pictures with "Evie" style props...

There were moments that I will never forget. One of my favorites was when Evie played "Ring of Fire" by Johnny Cash and we tried to teach her friends how to do the "Virginia Reel."  The girls squealed and giggled as they tried to learn it and Evie was so proud to share this with her friends. She often surprises me though. After the song ended, and the next one started, and her friends were busy dancing, she came to me, quietly, and said "it is just more fun with the Schlaters, Mom." Then it was back to crazy dancing with her friends. She loves her friends... but she adores her family. That is the thing with Evie. She NEVER seems like she is paying attention... but she often understands the important things with more clarity than I do.

She reminds me everyday that FUN should be on my list. We all have lists, things to do, and responsibilities we can't avoid. For me,as a high school English teacher, August means going back to work and that brings anxiety. However, I have been so busy helping Evie plan and get ready for the "The Back to School Backyard Dance Party of 2011" that I haven't even worried about the start of the school year. It wasn't until after it was all over and she was in bed that I wondered if that is how she planned it. I wouldn't put it past her. After all, she is Genevieve.

The Back to School Backyard Dance Party of 2011

I highly recommend it.

Magic

"I came to a clear conclusion, and it is a universal one: To live, to struggle, to be in love with life - to love all that life holds, joyful or sorrowful - is fulfillment. The fullness of life is open to all of us." - Betty Smith A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

Magic is what God can do with a sunset on the beach. It only takes 9 minutes for the sun to completely melt into the water. It is a show that people should have to pay to watch and it happens daily! Bryan and I enjoyed a few days in Naples last week... without kids. One of our favorite things to do is time a sunset. We sit in disbelief at how incredibly beautiful it is. It is impossible to be unhappy watching a sunset on a beach. It is also impossible to NOT reflect on your blessings.

I needed this vacation more than I realized. We have been married for almost 13 years, and the first time we had ever been away together without our kids was four years ago. We didn't even take a honeymoon. We were far too practical...and stupid. Needless to say, we went away alone four years ago and every year since.  It isn't that we want to get away from our kids... we just want to remember why we started this family in the first place. It is amazing what a few days away can do to remind me of why I married Bryan in the first place. He is a great man. He is the most sincere, sympathetic, and funny person I know. I don't always see it clearly on a typical hectic day in Sidney when we are saddled with work, kids, house chores, responsibilities, and other things. But, in the quiet of a dinner alone, or even a few hours without other people needing us we are able to gain perspective. We are able to remember that we used to sit on the red steps and eat bagels in Oxford, Ohio and dream about the day when we would be married and have kids. We are able to recognize that many of our dreams have actually come true. The house, jobs, kids, marriage... these are all things we wished and worked for. In fact,  we often find that most of our conversations land on Grace, Evie, or C.J., the life that we have created and how lucky we are.

I had been working on finishing Betty Smith's novel A Tree Grows in Brooklyn for a few weeks. It is a solid 493 pages of the main character's everyday happenings. Some were exciting, some uneventful, others devastating. We were on the plane ride home when I finished the novel and read the above passage in the novel's afterword. The beauty of life is in the loving. The loving of the daily happenings, as frustrating as they may be.  They may not be a 9 minute sunset, but when given the time to reflect on them and put it all in perspective ---they are magic.

Grace

 "It is unearned love--the love that goes before, that greets us on the way. It's the help you receive when you have no bright ideas left, when you are empty and desperate and have discovered that your best thinking and most charming charm have failed you. Grace is the light or electricity or juice or breeze that takes you from that isolated place and puts you with others who are as startled and embarrassed and eventually grateful as you are to be there."

- Anne Lamott Traveling Mercies 

This is my Grace. She is ten. Someday I will tell her that this passage from Anne Lamott's novel is how Bryan and I arrived at the name Grace. She wasn't planned. Actually there was a trip to Hawaii planned in 2000 ...but God had different plans for us- and I could NOT be more grateful.  If you spend any amount of time with her you would realize that she has fulfilled the quote and then some. I know that I have not earned her. Her heart is far more pure than mine. She can often anticipate what others need before they even know it. For example, in February, I was scheduled to be evaluated by my principal during third period English. This is a big deal. It is a long process that includes mounds of paper work and scheduling and a solid dose of anxiety. Well, the day came, and Grace had a fever of 103...for the second day. I couldn't miss school again for the second day, especially on the day I was being evaluated by my boss. I called everyone. Bryan had a full patient schedule. My mother in-law had to work. My mom was busy. I sat and cried not knowing what to do... and Grace... this " light or electricity or juice or breeze that takes you from that isolated place" got off the couch, gave me a hug and apologized for being sick. This is the kind of kid I have. She is sick. I am sad..and she tried to take care of me. We sat and snuggled and made promises to eachother.  Promises that I will NEVER forget.

She is my first. I often learn more from her about parenting than I think I have to offer her. She is my "experiment." Today she is at King's Island with a friend. This after a few sleepless nights, anxiety dreams, and praying the "Hail Mary" every two hours since she left this morning asking our Blessed Mother to protect her. Before she left, we agreed that if she was scared or nervous at any point we would pray for eachother at noon, two, four, and so on... We went through a litany of scenarios about "what to do." Truth be told- I didn't think I was ready to let her go with a friend (and friend's mom ) but that is how it is with her..she is the oldest. There is no road map. I have no experience. It reminds me of when Bryan and I put her in the carseat and the nurse walked us out to the car when I was released from the hospital a few days after she was born... Bryan and I sat in the car waiting... for 15 minutes. Finally,  I said "I don't think anyone is coming out" and he said "what do we do?" and I responded "Clearly, we are not qualified to take her home."   I often feel like I am not qualified to raise her.  I have a master's degree...my husband is has a doctorate... we still stay up at night...OFTEN... trying to figure out what is best for her. We are "empty and desperate and have discovered that our best thinking and most charming charm have failed us."

We are an "anti" kids having a cell phone family. However---today, Grace took her Daddy's cell phone to King's Island because clearly she might need me at some point.  Truth be known--- I needed her. I needed to know that she was OK. She sent me 13 text messages today and I hung on to each one like it was a breaking news on CNN. Some messages were asking for advice (with horrific spelling errors I might add)...but most of them read like this "scary ride mom!!! freacked out, but i am ok. I love u. don't worrie about me."

If she only knew. My whole life is about her... and her sister and her brother. I won't feel whole until I have them all home. My sweet Grace...my unearned love... I am grateful to be here...grateful to be your mom.

Beginnings

"It was what God or whatever His equivalent puts into each soul that is given life - the one different thing such as that which makes no two fingerprints on the face of the earth alike."

- from A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith

I have spent the last few years trying to figure out what God put into my soul to make it different, thinking that if I could name it, things would make a lot more sense. The more I struggled to figure it out, the more confused and frustrated I became. In fact, the last few years have been much like reading a novel, not a good one, but one that people tell you that you have to read. So, you read on hoping that the next chapter will answer some of your questions. I am not sure if I have learned more about literature from living or if living has allowed me to better understand literature, but what I do know is that the lure of the next chapter is what keeps us all going.

I am hoping that my next chapter will help me to figure out not only what God put into my soul, but what He wants me to do with it. At present I am so uncertain that I can't even confidently fill out the "About Me" section for my blog profile. I am a 38 year old wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, teacher, runner, reader, thinker, but those things are not my identity. They are titles that I wear with pride. And, they are certainly a part of my next chapter.

It wasn't until today that it hit me. As I was organizing pictures, I realized that I have one great story going. My favorite chapters are the ones about these three wild, ornery, and terribly unique characters named Grace, Evie, and CJ. I can point to what God put into their souls that makes them unique. I guess if I never know for certain what my next chapter holds, I should cling to this blessing... I am lucky to have such interesting people to share it with.

Here's to the next chapter...