Snow Day!!

Christa making snow angels

Snowy, Cold--and Happy!

Mondays are Christa's day.

Christa doesn't go to kindergarten on Mondays. The first few weeks of school, I was a frustrated mom on Mondays. Now I've learned Mondays are not my days to write or market or do a lot of the things I need to do. I decided to adjust my attitude instead of expecting Christa to adjust her attitude.

Mondays are days devoted to doing what Christa wants to do. We go to the library. We come home and read all the books she selected off the shelves.

We run errands--but I make sure it's fun for her. She helps me shop for groceries. And we eat lunch out wherever she wants to eat lunch. Today it was Red Robin. Other days it's Chik-fil-a.

We pull out the paints or the markers and I suggest ideas for pictures for her to color--and who she can give them to.

By the time Monday is over, we've had fun together. And that should always be on the top of my To Do list!

Now I know what it's like to be the mom waiting for a young adult child to come home for Thanksgiving.

For years I was the one who kept my mom waiting and wondering. Would I even make it home this year? Would I be home for Thanksgiving and Christmas or just one or the other?

Now my son Josh, who is 23, is the one who moved across the country. He has a job with a publishing house in New York City--and an agent shopping his book around. Ooops...sorry, I digressed into a little motherly bragging.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving--and tomorrow my son comes home. Haven't seen him or hugged him since August. Last night as I walked the store aisles picking up a few last minute things for our feast, I was overwhelmed. Tears filled my eyes as I thought Josh is coming home!

I'm thankful my son is pursuing his dreams. But I'm even more thankful he's coming home. It's time to stock up on some hugs to get us through the weeks before Christmas, when he'll be home again.

Josh and his dad

It was going to be one of those days.

One of those days when I was cranky. Short-tempered. Not a very nice mommy to my daughter.

I could blame it on hormones. Or I could blame it on a lurking migraine. But I certainly couldn't blame it on my daughter.

I'm the adult in this relationship. I'm the mom. I'm the responsible one and it was up to me to determine the tone--my tone--for the day.

So, after snapping at Christa for the second time, I apologized again and decided enough was enough. I could let my irritableness  rule the day, or I could shred my To Do list, give up my expectations (there's that word again!) for they day, and focus on being a nice mommy.

I read her books. I let her bang on the piano--the same three keys over and over again. I let her watch some television and play some computer games. And I chose not to yell. Chose not to give into my emotions. Chose to consider my daughter to be more important than how I was feeling.

And--when my twenty-year old showed up to take Christa to lunch, I thanked her profusely, crawled back in bed and took a nap. Maybe the next time I woke up, I'd get up on the right side of the bed.

the chance to spend the entire day with my 18 year old daughter, Amy.

We went out for breakfast together. Then we went shopping. I'm redoing the big family room in the basement. Amy has the eye for color and design. I have the money to pay for what she selects. It's a good system.

As my kids get older, it's more and more of struggle to spend time together. Those years when they were young and needed all my time and attention--can't remember those.

I'm also thankful for my husband taking me out to dinner. We went to the PepperTree restaurant--the only time I ever eat red meat! Their PepperTree steak is melt-in-your-mouth delicious.

May you days be anchored in gratefulness.

Beth

www.mommycomelately.com

( Final part of my story about what happened to my daughter in kindergarten)

Christa was back at school yesterday. We'd had three days to process what happened to her on Friday and how she felt about being threatened. As my husband said, even though it was a made-up threat, Christa didn't know that. All she knew was that someone said he was going to trap her. So we treated it like an actual threat.

Because the elementary school principle and Christa's teacher were so available to listen to our concerns and to discuss what needed to be done, Rob and I felt confident things were handled well. Our concerns were not ignored. Our suggestions were considered.

Because the boy's guardian called me the night before school ,I felt like she understood the seriousness of what happened. She talked to him about what he'd done and how wrong it was.

Because the boy got on the phone with me and apologized, I was able to open a door of communication with him. I told him I appreciated him being honest about making up the story. I told him that Christa said she forgave him.

Then, when I helped out in the class yesterday I was able to see the boy for who he is: a young child who made a terrible mistake. He has no contact with his mom and little contact with his father--so there is a needy child there.

Of course, as Christa's mom, I am watching her closely to see if there is any residual effects. So far, she is her normal happy, loving young self. And for that I am thankful.

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(Second part of the story about my daughter's experience in kindergarten)

That day after school, I took Christa out for a special surprise.

"You've had a tough day," I told her. "I think you deserve a special treat."

"I hope it's ice cream!" she said with a big grin. (Ah, the resiliency of children!)

We went to Build-A-Bear, a wonderful shop where kids can make their own stuffed animals. (www.buildabear.com.) She selected a white puppy and named it Angel. I wanted her to have something to hold and hug if she got scared. I also wanted the stuffed animal to remind her that God was watching over her--hence the "Angel" name.

After that, it was off to eat pizza and--yes!--ice cream.

During the weekend, we talked with the principle and with Christa's teacher. We kept a close watch on Christa, talking with her about it when she wanted to and stopping when she said she didn't want to talk anymore. Her three older siblings rallied around her too, which was wonderful to see. She slept well all weekend--no nightmares.

I learned that the boy involved lives with his grandparents and has no contact with his mom and only limited contact with his dad. So, there is some instability there. But, up until this point he had never caused a problem in the class.

Our hope is that Christa felt loved, protected and secure--and that she would recover quickly from being threatened. If, for some reason, Christa was afraid in the classroom, then the boy would be moved out of her class. Christa continued to say he was her friend and that he was sorry. Once again, I admired how quickly young children forgive.

To Be Continued

"I need to tell you what happened to Christa at school today."

That's what the elementary principle said when he called me last Friday.

"Is Christa okay?"

"Yes, she's fine."

Once I heard those words, I could breathe again--and I asked him to tell me what happened.

To make a long--and quite upsetting--story brief:

Two little boys in Christa's kindergarten class told her that another boy was planning on trapping her. He planned on jumping out and scaring her with a scary mask and then--it is so hard to write these next words--he was going to take her to someone's home and stab her in the chest.

The two boys promised to protect Christa, who was crying. A teaching assistant noticed, talked with the kids about what was going on,and took them to the principle.

The principle proceeded to gather facts--talking to a number of the boys and trying to find out who had threatened my daughter. One little boy was named--but he denied it and broke down crying.

Now here's the odd twist in all of this:

One of the original boys who promised to protect Christa finally admitted he made it all up. He lied.

By the time I was called, the boy had apologized to both Christa and the boy he accused. Christa was back in her classroom.

After a quick phone call to my husband, I drove to the school and talked with the principle again--trying to gather facts so I could understand what had happened. Then--even though the school day was almost over--I went and found my daughter, wrapped my arms around her, and assured her she was safe.

"Mommy, I was all trembling inside," she told me.

"Me too, sweetie."

And I still get all trembly when I think about what happened.

TO BE CONTINUED

I find myself looking forward to blogging on Fridays. During the week I put my reasons to be thankful in my back pocket, so to speak. Then I pull them back out on Friday and enjoy them all over again.

Today I am grateful for:

The early morning, warm-body snuggles of my six-year-old Just out of bed, she climbs into my lap and wraps her arms around me--happy to be with me again.

A writing day No makeup on, a basic brush of my hair and teeth, and then it's time to sit down and write and rewrite and rewrite some more--ignoring laundry and errands and vaccuuming.

My faith There have been some heart-hurts this week, a few tears and some deep sighs. But in the midst of it all,  I believe there is hope that conflicts will be resolved and relationships repaired. I don't know when or how--but I am hopeful.

May Your Day Be Anchored in Gratefulness

One of those days--when my To Do list was ignored because of a lurking migraine.

One of those days--when I battled discouragement. I tried to figure out what caused my "season of discontent" and realized having an all-day headache dims my enthusiasm for life.

So, I cut myself some slack, had a glass of wine, retreated to the tub, and read a silly-of-no-importance-romance.

I gave myself grace--and some emotional breathing space.

As Scarlett O'Hara was wont to say: Tomorrow is another day! (Said with a lovely southern accent.)

So often I take all my expectations for myself--and for others--and beat myself up with them when I don't accomplish it all. But I'm realizing that life isn't just about accomplishing goals. There are other, more important intangibles--like grace and forgiveness and friendship--that are overlooked when all I do is focus on all I need to do.

Tomorrow is another day.

I just spent a few minutes scrolling through an online page of quotes about friendship. I hoped to find a fitting quote to start this blog off--but I didn't.

My friendships have brought me the greatest of joys and the greatest of sorrows.

My oldest--and for that very reason, my dearest--friend no longer calls. (I met her in high school oh-so-many years ago.) For months, my phone messages went unanswered. Several weeks ago I sat down and wrote her a note, sealed it in an envelope, put a stamp on it, and mailed it. Surely a good, old-fashioned handwritten note would elicit some response.

Silence.

And I don't know why. When we talked months and months ago, she planned to come visit--bringing her daughter, my namesake, with her. Perhaps the depression that has haunted her most of her life has a stranglehold on her. I can only guess.

And then today, another friend chose to maintain distance. Truth be told, I also erected a protective barrier around my heart after being hurt by his words. And so I wonder: Where do we go from here?

And I don't know.

As a parent, I encourage my children to develope friendships. But I also realize that beginning a friendship may be relatively easy--but maintaining a friendship is quite complicated.

It's the end of a long day that comes at the end of a long week. I thought about skipping my Friday blog focusing on gratefulness.

But surely I can perk up long enough to think back over the week and find reasons to be thankful.

So, here goes:

I am grateful for my two oldest daughters who are taking care of Christa this weekend while my husband and I get a couple days away.

I am grateful for my husband who walked with me through one very large craft festival and one mall--and who said he was glad to do it because it meant we were together.

I am grateful for sunny Colorado days and the cool Colorado nights.

May your day be anchored in gratefulness.

Beth

www.mommycomelately.com

My mother-in-law's 88th birthday was yesterday. She was born in 1918 in a one-room log cabin in Montana built by her father. She lived through the Depression and the death of her first husband when her son, my husband Rob, was only five years old. She remarried when he was eight--and she is the only woman I know to celebrate two 25th wedding anniversaries with two different husbands.

Christa gets to spend special time with her "MiMaw" when I go to my Monday night writers group. MiMaw comes over and watches Christa for me--which means she does whatever Christa wants to do. If Christa wants to play princess, MiMaw joins in. If Christa wants to look at books, MiMaw will sit on the couch and read to her. Afterall, that's what grandmothers (and grandfathers) are for.

There are eighty-two huge years between Christa and her MiMaw. But those years are bridged by love. My mother-in-law knows her time with Christa is shorter than the time she has had with my older children. She's told me she realizes that. So, she's not wasting any time. She's here now--and she's making certain Christa has treasured memories of her MiMaw later.

Christa, Daddy, and MiMaw