Trick or Treat

I’m not omnipotent, but if I was there are certain things I would do; big, lofty things like making sure no child was ever abused and making sure all children had a warm, safe place to call home.  On a much smaller scale, I’d amend Halloween.  Me, with my new powers, would change Halloween so it occurred on a fixed day-of-the-week rather than a fixed date.  Specifically, I’d choose the last Saturday of October.

As an elementary school teacher, let me just say that there isn’t a whole lot of teaching that occurs on Halloween.  There are parties, but not teaching per say.  I try to strike a compromise.  For the last several years, my upper-grade students enjoy a bagel and fruit brunch while they read aloud their October-themed fiction stories they’ve been working on all month.  Even with a more relaxed teaching day planned, most of my teacherly duties fall in line with “maintain order.”  

Additionally, you have to factor in time for children to change into their costumes for the school-wide parade.  Understandably, kids have other things on their minds besides being attentive in class.  Furthermore, most children have special events planned for later that afternoon and evening.  Which means homework completion is challenged, children aren’t getting the same amount of rest, and they will consequently come to school the next morning with the equivalent of a candy hangover.  Let’s not forget, the other part of our student population - the children who don’t celebrate Halloween so they choose not to attend school that day.

On the other hand, if Halloween had a fixed day, specifically a Saturday, parents would be responsible for all Halloween festivities and their side-effects.  Schools could then decide on a case-by-case basis how they wanted to celebrate this day of tricks-or-treats.

On that note, I hope my readers are enjoying more treats than tricks today (and everyday)!

Moonstones

One of my favorite vacation spots is Moonstone Beach Drive in Cambria.  For those who don’t know, Cambria is half-way between Los Angeles and San Francisco, close to Hearst Castle and close to the beach where you can witness elephant seals giving birth.  I first ventured to Cambria for those reasons, but I don’t return for those reasons.  Instead, I make yearly pilgrimages to Cambria because, in a sense, when I go there, I go home to myself.

Cambria gives me something I don’t get anywhere else.  It gives me a chance to breathe differently - slower, more completely.  It allows me a chance to be someone different - someone on vacation who doesn’t have to take care of anyone, who doesn’t have phone calls to make, meals to cook, or errands to run.

In addition, staying in a hotel on Moonstone Beach Drive means the ocean is my neighbor.  It lulls me to sleep, wakes me in the morning, and accompanies me while I write on the balcony of my hotel room.  Nothing soothes my soul quite the way the ocean does.  (Maybe it’s a Pisces thing). 

Around my left wrist, I wear a silver bangle with three stones - moonstones.  Two of the moonstones are adjacent to each other, the third moonstone is on the other side.  The bangle was a Mother’s Day present, the moonstones a perfect representation of my husband, my son, and myself.

Moonstones are indeed found on Cambria’s beaches.  Some say the moonstone is a gem for lovers; some say it is a gemstone good for the wearer - good for introspection, good for meditation, good for inner strength.  Cambria is all those things for me.  It is the only place where I can slow down, focus on me, regain a sense of peace.  

The bangle encircling my wrist is a beautiful representation of our family.  And while my family provides me with joy and tenderness, warmth and delight, they are also a source of exhaustion and frustration, worry and work.  It is the other Moonstone I rely on to get me back in balance.  

Celebrating the Times (The Good, The Big, and the In-Between)

Early on in our parenting days, someone told my husband “the days are long, the years are short.”  When there’s a child involved, it certainly seems like we were changing diapers one day and sending our son to pre-school the next day.

Time is fleeting so we celebrate the little moments in the everyday.  We celebrate yearly events, monthly events, weekly events, and daily events.  Here is a list of our family’s top seven traditions and celebrations:

1. Birthday books.  We have celebrated each of Ryan’s four birthdays with a small family gathering.  Each year, everyone in attendance signs Ryan’s “birthday book.”  I began this tradition with Ryan’s first birthday and the Dr. Seuss classic Oh the Places You’ll Go.
2. Our yearly Santa picture.  When I was pregnant, I purchased a “Santa and me” picture frame at an after-Christmas sale.  Each year, we take Ryan to visit Santa Claus and take a picture (although, one year he declined to visit with jolly St. Nick).  Each year, the frame graces our coffee table with an updated Santa picture.
3. Our yearly visit to the Aquarium.  On the day I took a home pregnancy test and learned I was pregnant, I spent the rest of the day with my sister and two nephews marveling at fish like Nemo, sharks, and sea lions.  Since that July day, we take Ryan to visit the aquarium each summer.
4. Easter and Passover.  I was raised by parents of two different religious backgrounds, and the tradition continues with my husband and myself.  So each spring, my son enjoys “matzo crackers” and we decorate hard-boiled eggs.  And on Easter Sunday, the eight plastic eggs hidden in our living room each hold a quarter to total Ryan’s $2.00 “Son Day” payment.
5. To document Ryan’s growth, we take a picture of him on the 30th of each month (he was born on March 30th).  When Ryan was younger, we were able to position him on a red chair in his bedroom.  We watched his legs dangle closer to the hardwood floor.  As an active toddler, pictures are more spontaneous - on the see saw, standing outside of preschool, striking a pose as he dances around the living room.
6. Ryan was born on a Sunday, so since his birth, Sunday is also known as “Son Day.”  Each Sunday, Ryan receives $1 in each of his “piggy” banks (one is a blue pig, and one shaped like a baby bottle).  Every few months I empty the banks, tally up the change, and make a deposit in Ryan’s savings account.
7. Good nights.  My career as an elementary school teacher often forces me to leave the house quite early, sometimes before our son has awoken.  “Night-night time” is even more special.  We have our ritual - a kiss, a nosey-nosey, and a hug-a-bug.  And then, I tell my son I love him and, borrowing from the Mamas and Papas, wish him “Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you.”

Riding It Out

Sometimes life, (well, my life anyway), feels like a roller coaster.  You strap yourself in and hang on.  You wait it out.  And sometimes there’s not much more than that for you to do.  You have no control over trajectory or speed.  You can keep your eyes open, or shut them tight.  You scream with terror while adrenaline pounds through your veins.  But once you’re on, you’re on.  There’s no getting off, there’s no slowing down, you wait for the ride to stop.  You just have to wait it out.

That’s where my life feels like right now.  The past couple of weeks have been quite the roller coaster ride.  Moments of joy and laughter, and then, the ride starts to descend, the speed picks up, and there’s panic.  In the past couple of weeks I’ve taken my son to the pony rides in Griffith Park and to Urgent Care.  I’ve had nights of six hours of sleep and nights of three hours of sleep.  I’ve spent time crying in pain, and breathing sighs of relief that my discomfort had eased up.  Most of it, though, is out of my control.

I’ve decided I’m ready to ride the carousel.  I’ve always liked merry-go-rounds.  You can see where you’re going, there’s charming ice-cream-truck music accompanying your ride, and there are the horses that are decorative and pretty, that raise you up gently and bring you back down.  The ride’s more predictable, but a lot more steady, a lot more relaxing.

I think my ride on the roller coaster isn’t done yet.  But when it is, I’m getting in line for the merry-go-round.

Girls and Boys

I remember my eleventh grade United States history teacher.  She said that regardless of any advances we might make, men and women would never truly be equal.  To prove her point, she said a man could walk down the street without a shirt while a woman who did the same thing would be arrested for indecent exposure.

Since I was pregnant, gender differences have been increasingly apparent.  Maybe more so because I’m raising a son.

Boy or girl, I believe it’s my duty to parent so that my child grows up to be a thoughtful, considerate human being.  Consequently, my four-and-a-half year old son is 

not allowed to own or play with any weapons - no light sabers, no guns, no swords.  I strongly believe that items that can cause death and great bodily harm are not items that should be made into play things.  My son has some cars and trucks - so-called “boy toys.”  However, I’ve done my best to provide him with gender-neutral activities - books, puzzles, sidewalk chalk, blocks.  

Ryan knows there are differences between girls and boys, mommies and daddies.  Boys shave their faces and can go pee-pee standing up.  Girls can wear dresses, polish their nails, and wear lipstick.

I think I’m doing something right when I see my son choose a pink balloon.  He doesn’t see it as a “girl color,” and he doesn’t need to.  It’s simply the balloon color that looks most appealing to him.

As the mother of a son, it’s easy to see some of the neighborhood girls playing in their Disney princess dresses, and confidently think, “No way I’d buy those if I had a daughter.”  Do those dresses (along with the toy guns and swords) send a certain message to our children or am I just analyzing it too much?

I don’t know.  

I do know that my son will grow up in a world where men and women aren’t entirely equal.  One isn’t better than, smarter than, or faster than the other.  They are different.  

And it’s really okay to be different. 

The A to Z List of Things That Make Me Happy

A Architecture, but not in any academic-way.  I’m talking about charming houses that look like they’ve come from a fairy tale or a brick building that looks like it was just flown over from a European city.

B Brownies, books, and blended mochas.  Enjoyed together, they are the ingredients for some delightful Wendy-time.

C Candles.  There’s something soothing and calming about candlelight.  As an added bonus, candles can make my bedroom smell like chocolate, lavender, or fresh berries.

D Decadent chocolate - the kind that provide my daily caloric intake.  I know emotions aren’t supposed to be tied to food, but what is “supposed to be” and what happens aren’t always the same.  A triple chocolate chunk cookie can make me happy.  A mini-chocolate bundt cake can bring a smile to my face.  A heavenly chocolate souffle is bliss.   

E Earrings.  When I was younger, my earrings were housed in ice cube trays.  Now, my collection has grown, so they are kept in an enclosed earring box - complete with mirror.  My earrings change daily to match my outfit.

F Flowers - on our patio, on my dining table, pressed into a book.  Paintings of sunflowers adorn the walls in our kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom.  Flowers make life prettier.  

G Green open spaces.  Nothing quite compares to a picnic in the park, an hour spent writing or reading, or walking or talking in a lush garden-setting.  

H Home.  Our first home was an apartment located on the tenth floor in a twelve-floor building.  I loved the view, but I wanted a “house” - a place where mail was delivered through the little slot on my front door, a place where going outside did not require waiting for an elevator, a place that had two stories of our own.  Our home is a rental, but it is our home.  Our sanctuary.   

I Ice cream.  Some days (or nights) a bowl of ice cream is the escape I need.  I don’t meditate or practice yoga.  But I do make myself sit down to enjoy a bowl of chocolate ice cream topped with chocolate chips and chocolate syrup.  It’s my own personal time-out.

J June.  For a teacher, June represents the finish line; I’ve earned another notch in my belt.  I made it; I survived a school year, and now will be able to re-acquaint myself with some leisure time. 

K Keepsakes.  Pictures, fortunes from long-ago meals, notes written on napkins.  Receipts from Paris.  Notes and cards.  They touch my soul, bring warmth and light and happiness.

L Lotion, bubble bath, and me.  Nothing quite pampers me like a soak in the bathtub.  And although I thoroughly enjoy taking a bath, I usually opt for the quick shower.  But when I do allow myself a soak - it’s a heavenly hour spent in fragrances that smell fruity or floral and caress my skin.

M Moon.  I know it’s always there, even when I can’t see it.  Sometimes it surprises me, making an appearance during the day.  Other times, it illuminates the front lawn at night.  Either way, the moon is mystical and magical.  The moon is reassuring; it’s there, will always be there, and even when it disappears, it will come back.

N Notes, as in the hand-written variety that express a heartfelt sentiment.  “Thank you.”  “I love you.”  “You’re special.”  Nothing quite compares to receiving a note someone has written to me.  A note that I may keep and hold on to, re-open and re-read when I need encouragement or support or a virtual pat-on-the-back, don’t-give-up.

O Ocean.  Maybe it’s because I’m a Pisces, but I strongly react to being near the ocean.  I feel more peaceful, more content, more serene.  I’m hopeful that things will work out.  I breathe in and out deeper.

P Patio.  It’s my favorite place at home.  A glider.  A patio table adorned with candles and artificial tulips in a pink vase.  Wind chimes, impatiens, a dolphin mobile.  

Q Quality time with my husband.  We are full-time working parents of a toddler.  Life is busy.  However, my husband and I made the mistake of losing “us” - the “us” that was responsible for the child we created.  Now, we acknowledge the need for quality time, and we take it.  We have dates - whether it be a slow dance in our living room after our son is in bed, watching an episode of “The Cosby Show” while we lie in bed, or going out for dinner.  

R Ryan.  Becoming a mother was a very conscious decision.  Becoming a mother is the highest honor, the most rewarding experience I have ever known.

S Squish.  It’s the “wrestling” game my son and I play.  Sometimes, it’s more wrestle, other times it’s more tickle.  But, either way, it’s him and me, close and cuddly, laughing and playing.

T Temperate weather.  I am a native-Los Angeles girl.  Blue skies, bright sun, mild breeze - January, April, or October.  My favorite weather is mild and calm and beckons me outdoors.

U Unpredictable occurrences.  The appearance of a rainbow, the sight of a butterfly.  I consider them gifts from above, little surprises to make me stop and take notice, smile and be happy.

V Value.  I have learned from my mom - shopping with coupons makes sense.  Shopping and finding a great value, coming home with a bargain does give a different high to a shopping experience than merely purchasing an item.

W Writing.  I’ve wanted to be a writer since second-grade, when Mrs. Jones made me a “book” complete with a yellow construction paper cover and included the “good” paper inside.

X X’s and O’s.  Sometimes, all I need is a hug.  A full-on hug where my husband’s arms envelope me.  I’m safe, and the scary things will be kept at bay.  As a mommy, I know there’s a small window of opportunity I have to kiss my son on his toes, his tushie, and his tummy.

Y Yearly celebrations.  The house takes on a different look when the yearly decorations comes out - autumn leaves draped around the banister, pinecones in a vase on the table for winter, birthday banners and balloons for my son’s birthday.  

Z Zany laughter - the kind that makes you hiccup and cry and grab your sides.  Zany laughter from something silly, like watching Sandra Bullock’s character fall in the giant hole in the movie All About Steve.

Happiness

While reading Terry McMillan’s Getting to Happy, I came across a passage that resonated with me. On a blind date, one woman asked her male brunch-date the getting-to-know-you-question, “How do you measure happiness?”  His response:

“It’s a feeling of calm that comes from the inside.  When you figure out what’s important.  When you have nothing to prove.  Giving everything you do everything you’ve got and being satisfied, regardless of the outcome.”

I love his reply, and yet it doesn’t at all fit with my job duties.  I’m an elementary school teacher - on paper.  In reality, I’m much more.  I’m mother, nurse, therapist, coach, and cheerleader.  I teach my students as if they were my children; in fact, I constantly refer to them as “my kids.”  I teach each day with 100% of my heart and soul.  Yet, teaching isn’t making me happy.  Because at the end of the day, my value, my skill, my outcome is measured by my students’ test scores.

CST (California Standards Tests) are a big deal.  I tell my students that they’re important, but they are certainly not the most important thing in life.  I tell my students that I’m far less concerned with their test scores than with their character.  Are they honest?  Trustworthy?  Kind?  Loyal?  I told them their friendships will not be determined by their test scores but by their personalities.  

So I try to teach it all.  Character and geometry.  Respect and writing strategies.  Compassion and United States history.  Tolerance and physical science.  

And I celebrate all the little accomplishments.  A child with “impulse-control issues” who can hold it together and participate in a day’s lessons.  A child who easily shuts down and yet attempts all the day’s classwork.  A child who didn’t do an assignment and yet was honest and admitted it to me.

My teaching methods match this character’s definition of happiness.  But at the end of the day, I’m not happy.  Teaching is a profession that doesn’t have a “fixed outcome” at the end of “my shift.”  I often don’t know if I’ve made a difference or gotten through to my students.  And yet I try, each day, over and over again.  At the end of the day, I go home satisfied that I’ve done all I can do.  And yet, the powers that be don’t regard my teaching efforts in that manner.

I will not change who I am, as an individual or a teacher.  But, more and more, I’m wondering if my years in the teaching profession are coming to an end.  I am not happy with the way I am spending the majority of my days and hours.  I would want more for my kids, so why am I settling for less?

Which brings me to another definition of happiness.  After the first character defines happiness, his date replies:  

“When you’re willing to surrender to goodness and you.  Give yourself permission to feel it.  Not holding yourself hostage for making mistakes.  Doing what you love.  Doing for others.  Learning to cherish the beauty of right now.  When you can make yourself smile and laugh without depending on anybody else.”