The Cutest Little Lump

I had an awesome workout today. A really, really great leg workout. Killed it. Killed it so hard, I could barely walk. I was on a crazy workout high.

Nothing kills a workout high quite as quickly as seeing this:

That is my Littlest Love, Angelina, sound asleep at the top of the climbing structure in the KidZone at the White Marsh Merritt. The staff told me she had been asleep up there for quite some time - which is why I didn't hear her yelling my name during my workout. Her siblings stayed home, which is why she remained undisturbed. She played for a few minutes, climbed up to the top and put herself to sleep.

Fun part for me: after taking my frustrations out on my legs to the point where I could barely walk across the room, I had to climb up to the top to get her! I have never been so grateful to have a slide at my disposal! (Makes me wish I could install a slide in our house instead of steps.)

For the record - this was, indeed, the beginning of a three-day cold for my Angelina. Fever of 103!

Answered Prayers

This morning started like any other school day - I went to the gym, came home, made breakfast and lunch for the kids and then hurried to get us all out the door on time. I was shoving lunches and gloves into bags at the red lights on Bel Air Road when I noticed a note from RJ's teacher that was stapled to his bag. (Notes stapled to the canvas bag is the standard communication for the Bridges schools). 

After seeing the kids off to school, I finally took a moment to read the note. What I read brought a tear to my eye and made my heart race.

MY SON IS READING!!

He is two months into kindergarten, so I know what you are thinking: this isn't a big deal. Oh. But it is.

Just a year ago, we were told by those "in the know" that RJ wasn't meeting learning standards and should be "evaluated" for a spectrum disorder. So we went to the public school and demanded an IEP evaluation. We went to KKI and demanded a specialist evaluation. We spent November and December shuffling RJ downtown to meet with Dr. Megan, his "talking doctor" so that she could evaluate him in a variety of different ways and circumstances.

At the end of it all - Dr. Megan told us that we had a perfectly normal and stubborn 5-year-old boy with a beautiful and sweet personality. 

After months of fighting with the God-awful Elmwood Elementary, part of the atrocious Baltimore County School System, they told me that my standards were too high and perhaps I should be a little more realistic.

Ugh.

When The Dictator at The School That Shall Not Be Named changed things up and caused our mass exodus, I worried the most about RJ. Rosie had her teacher for a second year and Angelina had nothing to compare the "new school" to...but RJ...he was attached to his teachers and his friends...what would happen to him?

Well. Now I know what would happen to him. He would flourish. He jumped right in and flourished. He blew me away and even impressed himself in the process.

One of my best days as a parent. Ever. Just incredible.

Spectacular Spectacles

Several weeks ago, our Rosie girl started complaining about headaches. She seemed to come home with a headache every afternoon. She didn't want to read and seemed to be asking for Motrin on a regular basis. She had also been complaining about her teeth hurting - so I wasn't clear as to the cause of her headaches. I just knew that I needed to get to the bottom of them. While at her parent-teacher conferences, I learned that she was really starting to struggle with her reading and didn't seem to have any interest in reading or improving her skills. So I called Dr. Jensen.

Dr. Jensen is the Pediatric Ophthalmologist we saw when Rosie was a baby and complained about eye pain. We also saw her when Angelina's tear ducts were clogged and she needed surgery. This doctor is amazing, so I knew were in good hands. 

After a brief exam with the nurse, I knew my girl was going to need glasses. You could just tell that straight reading with both eyes was a real struggle for her. Sure enough - after being dilated and examined by Dr. Jensen, we had a cause for the headaches: my Rosie Girl is far-sighted in one eye.

I expected tears...or maybe disappointment. Nope. Not this time around. She was beyond thrilled. She had an answer to her problems! Our ride back to school revolved around planning for glasses and wanting to know how soon she could pick them out. 

After school yesterday, we made our way to the Avenue to pick out a pair. Without fail, Rosie picked out the most expensive glasses from each and every section! So was so cute and so excited that I couldn't say no! We walked out with no one but two pairs of designer glasses - one to keep at home and the other to keep at school. 

She is unbelievably excited to read now - both at school and at home. She only needs to wear them for school work or close-viewing activities. She doesn't need to wear them all of the time...so her running round-offs into the room can safely continue! Dr. Jensen expects that she will outgrow her need for glasses within the next few years, definitely before middle school but likely before she hits double digits! 

A Letter to My Baby

 Dear Angelina,

I’m sitting on my bed, typing, and just watching you sleep. I could watch you sleep forever. You are a little girl that is always on the go – never still – except in these nighttime peaceful moments. I selfishly invited you to sleep in my bed tonight. I know that it is your preferred place to slumber, but tonight is not about your preferences. Tonight is about me having one last night with my baby before she officially becomes a big girl.

Tomorrow, you start school.

How did we get here? Where did our time together go? It feels as though just a few minutes have passed since we welcomed you into our world. Baby girl, I didn’t know how much you would change my life for the better.

From the moment I learned of your existence, my world was a better place. You were an Angel, a gift from God at a time when I needed joy the most. Carrying you gave me strength. Your first cries were literally music to my ears – those tiny, baby wails were the most beautiful sounds that I had ever heard. I asked aloud if that was actually your cry.  

Here we are, a few heartbeats later, and my beautiful baby with the amazing cry is about to be a big girl…experiencing something without me. Angelina, I am not ready for this. I am not ready for your baby phase to be over. I have stood by and tolerated all of your milestones – weaning off of nursing, sleeping through the night, learning to walk, finding your voice, leaving your crib and more. I have tried to not panic as you learned to assert yourself and express your opinion. In truth – I have enjoyed each and every stage of your growing even more than the last. But this? This, my little girlfriend, is intolerable.

For whatever reason, I just feel like my heart is breaking. Tomorrow I will drive you up to a school – a beautiful Montessori school – and I will entrust my sweet, funny, charming girl to a group of strangers. Will they just adore you? Everyone does. Will they laugh and be entertained by you? I hope so. You bring so much joy to my life, I can only hope you bring joy to them as well.

I accepted the challenge of motherhood long before you came into my world. I embraced it, knowing that it was my responsibility to teach you, your brother and your sister how to become wonderful, fully-functioning and responsible adults someday. I need to teach you how to be a good, kind person. A loving soul. A good friend. I was completely unprepared for just how much you would teach me.

 
You have taught me to truly appreciate the little things…and be genuinely overjoyed at as many turns as possible. I love watching you open presents. You never seem concerned about what is actually in the box – but you over over-the-moon that someone took the time to give you the box. I have learned that everything in this life can be a beautiful song. Even things that you aren’t so happy about. I have learned the value of being comfortable with alone time. I’ve never been good at being alone. From a very early age, you have been able to entertain yourself happily for hours. Being so comfortable with yourself gives you a whole new appreciation for your friends. You don’t need them. You want them.

 I know that our journey is far from over, my sweet Angelina. My tears are really just silly. You are so ready for this change – you want it. I’m just not ready to accept that the time for this change is now! I am looking forward to learning so much more from you.

Tomorrow? Tomorrow you will walk into school, an excited, ready-to-learn big girl who is about to take on her world and win. Tonight? Tonight you are my baby. And I love you with all of my heart.

 

 

 

 

Rosie's Rainbow

Before we left my parents' house on Monday, Rosie frantically ran inside to grab what looked like a small tube. She waved it at me and said "I can't forget this, Mom. It's for my teachers." I squinted at it, realized it was Rosie art, and said "OK."

Yesterday was her first full day of school. She walked into her new classroom and her new teacher as a somewhat timid first grader, armed with her artwork and bowl of freshly picked figs for her teachers. When I picked her up yesterday, she was full of life and excitement. She had given out her artwork as planned and "sold" her figs. (When I asked her why she "sold" them, she said that she gave them away...I hope that is the case!)

Here's where the story gets really cool: I thought it was pretty sweet of my kid to make pictures for her teachers over the summer. (She had actually painted them prior to the start of school in anticipation of seeing them again.) I guess her teachers thought it was pretty sweet too. Last night, I log into my Facebook and find myself tagged:

The picture that I am tagged on is this:

That is the Rosie art that she presented to her teacher, Miss Gina. I saw it for the first time on Facebook, as it was not something Rosie wanted to share with her parents. Seeing it brought a tear to my eye! I saw the beautiful impact of Maria Montessori and all of Rosie's Montessori teachers along the way. My child painted a rainbow! With her and her new teacher underneath!  I was instantly filled with hope & promise. 

After my initial mushy moment was over, I took at look at Miss Gina's comment again...and Holy Cannoli! My child's artwork was her Facebook profile picture! Well...that prompted a whole new mushy moment.

We are so lucky to have wonderful children...and as a family we are lucky to have such an amazing place with outstanding people available to us to educate and nurture our children.

I Have A Dream

Today marks the 50th anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s "I Have A Dream" speech. When I thought about it - I realized that I have never actually read or heard this famous speech in its entirety. 50 years after he delivered this speech, Dr. King's words, faith and hope brought me to tears. Please read...

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But 100 years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men -- yes, black men as well as white men -- would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check that has come back marked "insufficient funds."

But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. 1963 is not an end but a beginning. Those who hoped that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges. 

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "for whites only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no we are not satisfied and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. I say to you today my friends -- so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day, this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning "My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my father's died, land of the Pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring!"

And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true. And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.

Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado. Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi -- from every mountainside.

Let freedom ring. And when this happens, and when we allow freedom ring -- when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children -- black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics -- will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual: "Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

Parenthood is…

Tonight was the premiere of Parenthood on NBC. I had seen several of the commercials for this new show – and I had planned on watching it. This morning, I came down with what I suspect to be a mild case of the flu. Swine or otherwise, I felt absolutely miserable and spent most of my day on the couch.

Fortunately, at the start of the show, my Motrin kicked in and I was up and ready to watch.

The show took me through a wide range of emotions – I laughed, I cried…I felt despair and anguish. I couldn’t help but imagine my future with Rosie & RJ and wonder what bumps we would face. I have these two little children who are as close to perfect as you can get – but someday these angels will be teenagers. Where will that take us? Will my future Olympic hockey player decide to play soccer instead? Or dance? What if RJ decides that basketball is his thing? Will we become basketball fans?

So these questions ran through my flu-fogged brain as I watched Parenthood. And then I started to think about my day – I woke up feeling fairly miserable and got worse as the day went on. RJ cooperated with me beautifully and took two naps, during which time I napped as well. Rosie, who had no interest in napping, sat in bed with me during my first nap and watched Sesame Street while holding my hand. During my second nap – on the couch – she sat on the arm of the couch and stroked my hair while she watched Shrek. Any time I moved I would hear her say “it’s OK, Mommy – go back to sleep.” She did her best to keep me sleeping until RJ woke up – and which point she nudged me awake and said “Mommy, I’m sorry to wake you, but I think I hear RJ and he is calling for you.”

As I sat huddled on the couch underneath several blankets and a heating pad, I couldn’t help but marvel at the wonderful children before me. I watched them play together, care for each other and care for me. Rosie would get up and get RJ more water – RJ would come over every few minutes to give me one of his wet and sloppy kisses. Rosie would sporadically shout “hey Mom – I love you!” Both kids came over just to give me hugs many times.

So – what is parenthood? Parenthood is worrying over your son’s bowed legs and inward-turned toes. Parenthood is explaining to your three-year-old daughter that it is not OK to hit, ever, even if someone hit her first. Parenthood is crying to yourself over the seemingly harsh punishment you just dealt out because you couldn’t let your kid see you sweat and you knew it was for the best. Parenthood is losing sleep and laughing so hard you nearly pee yourself. Parenthood is being proud of the smile lines on your face. Parenthood is completely giving of yourself for someone else without even realizing it.

Most importantly – parenthood is the most wild and most amazing ride you could ever have the pleasure of being on. To my wonderful Rosie girl and my sweet RJ – I didn’t know how much I was missing until you both came into my life. There is nothing more wonderful than being your mom and there is no place I would rather be than with you.