To my girls, on Valentine's Day

To my girls, on Valentine's day:

I know for a fact that you will probably consider the past nine months one of the worst periods of your life - for your entire life.  I can't know how much it hurts to lose your dad.  I still have mine. We share grief for your dad, you and me, but with different dynamics.  I am so proud of the way you have been able to carry on with school, hold jobs, make the more grown-up choice, and just keep on becoming the beautiful, strong, idealistic and witty women your dad would have wanted you to be.

Each Valentine's day, we got very special candy, didn't we?  He absolutely loved checking Consumer Reports for the best-rated chocolates and having them delivered to us, no matter where he was in the world at the time.  I can't be just like him, but I hope you have already gotten your Valentine goodies from me.  I know it's a 'sweetheart' day; but there are forever loves in the world, and you two are my forever loves.  I wanted to tell you and everyone else a few things I'm proud of - it's always a good thing to tell someone when you're proud, and not take it for granted that they know.  You are both amazing, and here are some of the reasons why:

I am proud of your perseverance.  Neither one of you skipped a beat in continuing school.  Some people would probably have taken some time for themselves, or cut back to make life a little easier for a while.  The two of you jumped right back in to classes and keep looking forward. You remind me a little of your dad when he was on a 'frenzy'.  Remember?  Those times he was so focused on a task that we sometimes didn't even get to eat until he got what he needed?  I tried to explain it to you when you were little, and I tried to inject in the explanation that it could be a very good trait.  I believe you picked some of that up along the way.

I am proud of your progress.  Is that the same thing as perseverance?  Not really.  You could have persevered with school and still not have moved forward.  But in your cases, you are making the necessary grades, you have the degree plans in the works, and you have both grown so much emotionally and intellectually that you have narrowed down and decided on a career path. You also both have worked since your dad has been gone - not everyone can do that and do well in school also. That's a huge challenge and I am so proud of the steps that both of you have made to start making all of your dreams come true.

I am proud of the patience you've had with me, and your protection toward me.  Although we sometimes approach tasks at very different speeds, you have let me do things in my own time and in my own way.  I believe that you have suppressed your own wishes for when certain things would get done, just to protect my emotional health and let me make sure that I am doing everything right for the three of us.  You also give me great advice, the kind of advice we give in our family. (Like.."tell them the car turns into a superhero at night and any marks are battle scars"....) And I'm sure there's been a time or two that you just made excuses for me and told someone to just leave me alone. ("I'm going out for a while, Mom, but if you need me, you call...I'll come right home.")

Most of all, I am proud of your passion for life, no matter what.  Your dad would be proud, too.  Whenever one of you went through a 'quiet phase', it worried him.  He wanted you involved - (even if it meant him sitting through musicals and dance recitals) and he wanted you to set goals and work hard to reach them, just as he did.  He wanted you to think your own thoughts, not be a 'sheep', and he wanted you to be well-versed enough in your beliefs to intelligently challenge those with whom you do not agree. I want that, too, but make sure you do it in a nice way! (Although you should let me know when you reach the McCarty milestone of being banned from a forum for your opinions.  I'll take his place and celebrate with you.) You are still able to laugh and cry, as well as live your life to the fullest, which you know your dad totally believed in.

I hope one day you can love someone as much as a parent loves a child.  There is no end to that love. It exists in the parent for no other reason than the fact that you, the child, exist. But there's an added bonus:  When I look at you, listen to you, and watch you live life, I see your dad.  It reminds me that even though he's gone, so much of him will live on through the two of you. I love you, Mallory and Maddy, with all my being. Forever.

The Hardest Questions of All. Thanks, Santa. 12/12/13

Little ones ask so many questions.  Personal questions - "How old are you?"  Silly questions - "Can I have that bracelet?"  Blunt questions - "Are those real diamonds?"  But the two hardest questions of all occur this time of year:  "Mrs. Rush, is Santa real?"  followed by "Mrs. Rush, do you believe in Santa?"  Elementary teachers have to face the fact the there are as many levels of belief in their classroom as there are students.  We also have to face the fact that those students believe whatever we say.  We are the teachers.  We speak wisdom and truth!  I bill myself as a teacher that only tells the truth.  So, when I was asked these difficult questions today, as I have been so many years in a row, I gave an answer that has been many years in the making:

"Is Santa real?  Jailynn says he's not."  Oh boy, here we go.  Carefully worded truth. These were second graders.  I personally found out the truth from a kid in my class in third grade.  I was angry and disappointed.  Considering this little questioner was about the same age, I spoke very cautiously:

"Now, my little friends, you might be hearing all sorts of things about Santa from your friends here in your class at school. I think that Santa is very much alive in the spirit of giving.  Different families have different ways that they share that with their kids, so please believe whatever your parents tell you.  This season is about love and giving.  Sometimes we give gifts, sometimes we give a song, sometimes we give our time to help someone.  Santa is one of the leaders behind all that giving, but we are all involved in it.  I hope that you have the chance to give a little bit this season and see how it makes you happy.  Even if what you give is your best smile." (The room erupts into smiley faces.)

"But what about what Jailynn said?"  "Well, her family still believes in giving and being sweet.  Her parents just explain it in a different way from your parents.  But that's ok if the real purpose is being nice."

"Why doesn't Santa bring presents to grown-ups?"  "Well, it's not because all grown-ups are bad.  I'm certainly not bad!" (giggle eruption).  "I think it's because when you are very little you only know how to get stuff.  When you get older, you learn how to give yourself, so Santa doesn't have to give you things to teach you that anymore." (Can we please sing now?)

Then, the granddaddy of them all:  "Mrs. Rush, do you believe in Santa?"  Dead silence.  They think they've got me.  "I have to say yes, my friends.  I believe in Santa as he represents the spirit of giving.  I believe in Santa in the idea that if you are good, good things come to you.  I try to practice that all year long on you boys and girls by giving treasure box goodies to the well-behaved children.  I believe that once you really know Santa as a grown-up, you understand that giving is so much more than a present.  Giving can be a smile, saying someone looks nice, visiting someone, calling them, writing them a note, or singing them a song. This is the truth that Santa represents and in my heart I know it's true.  Believe what your mom and dad tell you. That will be different for everyone in here, but don't we celebrate differences at our school?" (Nodding heads) "Santa wants you to grow up to have a giving heart, so he sets the example."  (Quiet.....)  "Now let's sing - please give me some beautiful songs with beautiful voices today!"  Smiles - music - action.  Thanks, Santa.

The T-shirt Rebellion 8/22/13

I wore a uniform to school from fourth grade until I graduated. We hated them.  Doesn't everybody that has to wear a school uniform hate them?  Blue plaid and white blouses.  Dress-style jumpers over the blouses through sixth grade, and skirts with the blouses starting in seventh.  Solid color blue, green or white socks.  Solid color blue, green or white sweaters.  No dangling earrings.  Closed-toed shoes.  Skirts had to touch the floor when kneeling.  The rules seemed never-ending.  The dream of being able to choose what I got to wear each day was a part of the enticement of college.

At college, I was sometimes overwhelmed by the question of  "What am I going to wear today?"  There was no real group to follow - different people dressed casual, sporty, dressy, stylish - I had to start making up my mind who I was, as far as fashion was concerned.  It was work.  I remember thinking that it would be so nice just to put on my white blouse and plaid skirt and go.  But instead, I set out to carve my individuality in the world using my clothes.  I wasn't Lady Gaga of that little Baptist college, but I did set my own style and let my personality show. 

Now, I'm an elementary teacher.  Let me explain why that matters.  There is a shelf or drawer in every elementary school teacher's house that is full of school t-shirts.  After a few years, if you don't weed them out, they will run over!  Just this week alone, I was given two t-shirts and told when to wear them (and sometimes, what to wear them with!)  It was also announced that we will be able to order another t-shirt to wear on Mondays to advertise our behavioral program!  So if I wear that one on Mondays, the committee shirt on the Wednesdays of meetings, and the spirit shirt every Friday, that leaves Tuesday and Thursday to wear my own clothes!  Wow!

I am not anti-t-shirt.  I think they have a place.  One school shirt is cute, especially when you have special days or competitions, and especially when you can wear the same design the little ones wear.  They think that's cool.  And t-shirts are great for exercising.  My prejudice actually stems from vanity. I do not look good in t-shirts.  I am no longer as thin as I was in college, and my bust (not thin, either) is accentuated by the high neck on a t-shirt.  I spend the whole day making sure the t-shirt is pulled down far enough in the front and back, and not pulling too tight in certain spots.  I am not as comfortable in a t-shirt as I am in my professional clothes.  And, believe it or not, in spite of my age, I still want to be an individual!

So, whether the blame lies with the seven years of plaid uniforms, or with my vanity about wanting to choose more flattering outfits, I would like to publicly state my aversion to the number of t-shirts and days that we are required to wear them.  I know the publicly stating anything won't change the t-shirt trend, but I just had to get it off my chest.  I wish I could do that with the t-shirts.  Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go choose a design for the t-shirts my children in choir will be required (by me) to wear.

But Peeps have always been yummy!! 3/23/13

Yummy - that's what I thought of Peeps.  Yes, Peeps - the marshmallow treats, chicks and bunnies, pastel colors, most people only buy them for the Easter baskets because they're pretty.  I even joined the "Peeps fan club" once upon a time.  I've got the t-shirt, cap and member card to prove it!  But I was crushed this week when I bought a box of Peeps and tried to eat a few on the way home (car calories don't count, right?) - they tasted like cardboard!  How could this have happened?  I was the Peep queen - my mom would mail them to me when I was in college!  When I lived in England, I learned the term "gone off".  It means you don't like something anymore.  "I've gone off Chinese food since it made me sick..."  I guess I've gone off Peeps.  Have they changed?  Is it my taste buds?  Did I simply age out of the marshmallow/sugar taste?  Why can't things stay yummy?

Yummy was Easter with little four and six-year-old girls. They had beautiful new dresses with white buckle shoes and lacy socks.  They truly believed that the Easter bunny had eaten those carrots and left those dirt prints on the carpet.  They went to church with me and listened and bowed their little heads to pray.  They ran all over the back garden after church, hunting the eggs that Dad had hidden, the older sister helping the younger one, and even sharing with her.  Those were yummy years. 

I suppose I would have gone off the four and six-year-old age had we managed to get stuck there.  Anything can grow old.  As I write this, I'm thinking "What's yummy about the college age kid?"  There are answers.  True answers.  The college age kid has to do their work on their own and make decent grades.  That's happening.  And it's yummy.  It's just not as cute or frilly or fun.  The college age kid has to decide what kind of adult they are going to be.....no small task in today's world.  I find it extremely yummy that my 18 and 20-year-old girls always find themselves on the fair side of any issue.  Right now, they are almost fair to the point of being liberal bleeding hearts, but that's college kids, eh?  Those are the kind of people that can end up making a difference in this world, and I'm so pleased to see that little truths I taught them at ages four and six have matured into caring, sensitive attitudes-sometimes mixed with outspokenness and activism-at ages eighteen and twenty.

So, come to think of it, there is still some yummy around here - it's just a much more mature flavor of yummy that the child-like sweets.  I've gone off a few more things besides Peeps in the past fifteen years, but I will never go off loving my children and the adults that they are becoming.  I can only hope that they find their own yummy - in every stage of their lives.  Happy Easter, everyone.

Spring Break doesn't mean you have to break something! 3/17/13

I walked out this morning to warn the next-door kids to watch out.  They were riding bikes and scooters in the cul-de-sac, swarming everywhere like bees.  When I told them that a wrecker was bringing one of our cars to the house, the nine-year-old girls' face lit up with curiosity.  "What happened?" "Why won't it go?" "What were they doing?"  Evidently, my college-age daughter's experiences are like an episode of 'Gossip Girl' in her eyes. 

You see, college-age kid (I'll call her '18')  went to Galveston Beach with three other college-age kids.  Spring Break.  No "gone wild", but kids, probably some beer, cars, bikinis, sun, waves.....it's an eternal theme.  So, 18 thought that since everyone was driving onto the sand, she could, too.  She knew not to drive on loose sand, but somehow got stuck anyway.  When you're a teenager and get stuck - and somebody offers to help, you say yes.  Some big pickup truck tried to loosen the car from the rear - and the front bumper got caught on the sand and came off.  Well, mostly off.  It was hanging loose with a lot of broken plastic underneath.

18 was wise enough to call me at that point, when there is evidence, my kids always know to own up right away.  What could I say, but "tie it back on and come home"?  Unfortunately the car shut itself down - some electrical issue, no doubt - and they ended up stuck on the side of the road.  We had roadside assistance tow it to a friend's house, because the 80 miles to home would have cost over $200.  I drove the hour down there to pick up the crew and delivered them all safely home. 

Hubby is always away when these things happen, so he sends decisive answers at 3 am by e-mail.  "She takes your truck back to school.  Pay to have car towed home.  You drive other car."  Short and sweet.  I like it that way, because it makes me think that he took the news very calmly.

I sent her back to school in her sister's car, and found a tow for under 200.  So when I saw the swarm of bikers, I knew I had to not only warn them to be careful, I had to get that little zinger in to their dad- "Enjoy the bike years, they're over before you know it!"  Based on how interested his daughter was in the college kid's exploits, he had better stay on top of things - you keep looking out through the same old eyes, but life changes mighty fast.