Impatient

I am an avid lover of fall.  No other change of seasons quite gets into my bones like fall does.  Last week, the weather teased me.  The lows were in the 50s at night and in the morning when I stepped out the air felt fresh, like it had been cleaned in the nighttime.  It’s almost October and I’m still waiting for more than 1 day in row when I don’t sit and sweat in my classroom, waiting for a day when I can take a walk at night and not worry about mosquitos, waiting for a day when I can hear refreshing rain outside my window and feel the air being refreshed.  I’m also waiting for the day that I can make cheese soup and tomato sandwiches, for the day that I can drink hot chocolate, for the first time I can fire up my fireplace (I’ve never had a fireplace before!) and roast marshmallows with my dog getting in the way.  I am, in a word, getting impatient for fall.

I have struggled with impatience my whole life.  I don’t like it when things go wrong.  I don’t like it when I have to wait.  Being 28 weeks pregnant has not helped.  I have the crib.  I have the rocking chair.  I have a name, clothes, and in a few weeks I will be buying diapers, formula, bottles and other things.  WHERE IS MY BABY?  Oh yeah … I still have 12 weeks to go.  I was sitting at home today staring at the sun outdoors with a growl in my heart when I realized that I need to be more patient.  I might be waiting on God – for fall, for my baby, for everything but then I had a thought.  What if … just what if God was waiting for ME?  I laughed at the thought at first – as though God was waiting on me.  HA!  And then I thought about it a little more and found this:

Psalm 27:14 Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD.

As I read it over and over, maybe God is waiting for me to realize that I need him.  God is waiting for me to realize that I need to press in.  God is waiting for me to take heart and trust Him.   See God isn’t waiting for me to DO something.  God is waiting for me to want HIM to do something.  Maybe it’s time.  Time to wait — to be a little patient.  God has been patient with me for years.  It’s my turn now.

One good love

My friends Josh and Jenny just had a little boy – Jonathan Austin.  JJ and I kept their daughter, Joyce, for a couple of days while mommy was in the hospital. If only every 2 year old were this easy. Seriously. We had dinner with Josh and Jenny Wednesday night (by the way, have you noticed that I am the only one in the bunch with a name that does not start with a J?) and afterward we unloaded Joyce’s stuff from their car and put her in our car. Without tears or drama she waved, “Bye bye mommy, bye bye daddy, I love you, see you ‘morrow!” and off we went. When we got home we played with the dog and while I took a shower, JJ and Joyce read a book and counted Roxy’s feet (she has 4, by the way — oh and Joyce has 3! ). When I got out of the shower we got Joyce ready for bed and she went night-night in the big bed in the guest room around 9:20 and that was it. I woke her up at 6:15 this morning and we got her dressed for preschool, gave her juice and an oatmeal bar and were out the door. Sounds easy? It really was. The only thing was that she wanted to stay home and play with JJ and the dog instead of going to school but after I promised her we’d play with Roxy when we got home, she climbed into her carseat and we went to school.

I don’t know if it’s because we’re having our own, or because Joyce is the first kid that I’ve really seen grow up (I’ve known her for a little over a year now so since she was about 18 months) and she actually seems to like me. Not only that, but I can actually take care of her long term (this is the second time she’s spent the night at our house) and she doesn’t seem any worse for the wear, but all this stuff has made me think of what our daughter is going to be like when she’s Joyce age. Will she be easy going? Will she be happy and playful? Will she be a prima donna (God I hope not, but I know I’ll love her anyway)? Will she love to throw a ball (Joyce does) or would she rather put makeup on her dolls? Isn’t it funny how you can love someone so much, and not know anything about her? I have hopes and aspirations for my daughter – what I hope for her, what I pray for her, what kind of man she’ll meet and marry, where she’ll go and what she’ll do when she gets there – but I don’t have hopes and aspirations for WHO she’s going to be. That’s a God thing. If she’s like Joyce, I’m going to love her — and if she’s a 3 year old drama queen whose clothes have to match and whose hair HAS to be done – I’ll love her anyway. It’ll just take a little more getting used to.

I can’t get no

I’m frustrated.  In a I-know-I-have-to-do-this-but-I-don’t-like-it kind of way.  Last year I helped coach the swim team at my school and loved it.  LOVED it.  The kids were great and my co-coach was great to work with.  The season was long and tiring and all building up to one big meet at the end.  There was complaining, comraderie, fighting, flirting (from the kids to each other – not to us), away meets, social events, laps, drills, and on and on.  Everything a swim season should be.  See if you can spot the dilemma.  Our swim season runs from November to February.  Anyone spot the problem?  Yep.  Our little precious bundle of joy is due on December 20.  Right smack dab in the middle of … well, the season.  Right about when I should be having the baby is our heaviest training part of the season – winter training.  So that’s an issue.  I know that I shouldn’t be coaching this year.  I already have the doctor telling me that my body is telling me that I work too hard.  Adding another 4 hours of work a day is not going to help that.  I’m grimacing and agreeing with the doctor that I probably ought not be teaching swim lessons, nor should I plan to coach when I hit November 1.  Here’s the problem: I can’t leave these kids with no team.  I just can’t.  For some of these kids, it’s the only thing that they feel like they’re good at.  They don’t do well in school, they’re socially awkward (forget the opposite sex), they get in trouble with teachers because they’re different, and so on.  The pool is the one place where they can be proud of themselves.  How can I tell them no?  For some of these kids, they’ve been looking forward to this season since the last one ended.  These are the kids who cried and hugged and made everyone promise to swim again next year, the ones who made photo albums from the season and handed them out, the ones who grin from ear to ear when they see me and ask about swimming.  I can’t tell them no, either.  The problem is that I have to.  I personally can’t coach this year.  I have to, for once, worry about me and not me all at the same time.  Me, until I give birth.  And then Natalie afterwards.  And both categories fall under the you-should-not-coach umbrella.  It stinks.  I’m looking for a good Christian coach but … they’re hard to find.  Whoever it is needs to be a college graduate, have some coaching experience, and be a Christian.  I didn’t realize there were so few of us.  Aaaaargh.  This is like … hair-pulling, screaming-out-loud, feet stomping frustration.  Three of the things I love most in this world – swimming/coaching, my kids at school, and my daughter.  And I know which one I have to pick, but why can’t I have them all?  *sigh*

Girl power

I feel loved. Really. I often forget that I am surrounded by people who truly are interested in who I am and what I’m doing. Over the years I’ve given in to a lot of cynicism, based largely in part on life experiences, and my limited experiences in academia. I’ve had too many people ask me “How are you?” and give me the same response whether I say, “I was sick last night,” or “I’m doing great!” I’ve had too many people act interested in my life, and then the second that things aren’t interesting to them anymore, they disappear. 25, and cynical as all heck. It’s sad really. But things like this – they remind me that perhaps my cynicism comes too easily.

As we all know, our daughter is scheduled to arrive in December. The tradition of the baby shower is one I have never been that excited about because the two or three baby showers that I’ve ever been to are the quintessential misery of things like tasting baby food, playing silly games that involve diapers, and food that isn’t so much food as it is decor. My friend Sabrina had a baby party when we learned of the imminent arrival of baby AJ and her baby party was FUN! I mean, really really fun! I admit, the alcohol might have helped some, but really what was fun about Sabrina’s party was that it was a celebration of the arrival of AJ. It wasn’t anything it was “supposed” to be – except that it was exactly what it was supposed to be. People who loved Steve and Sabrina, buying them presents, and celebrating a joyous event in their lives. Oh, and just in case you’re wondering, check out what came home with them from Korea. This was the cause of our celebration.

I’m digressing. My point is that I’ve always thought showers should be a celebration of comraderie (in the non-communist sense) and joy and love, rather than trying to do things like eat the perfect food or play the perfect game.

I got an email from Sabrina this morning. There are four – count ‘em – FOUR women who want to help throw our baby party and they are determined to make it exactly what we want and help us celebrate Natty’s arrival. No pastels, no crustless bread, no games involving baby food, no monogramming (I am so against monogramming I cannot explain my distaste). Just love, and joy, and celebration of my daughter. THAT’S love. The real kind. The kind that stops what its doing if you’re feeling sick, the kind that calls you to see if you need anything, and the kind that I want my daughter to know one day.

Thanks, Jamie, and Michele, and Mamie, and Sabrina. I feel loved. And so does Natalie.

Sine and cosine

I have come to the conclusion that teaching is an exercise in living through the peaks and troughs. Sometimes within the first hour of my day I’ll get a super-high out of my kids and then 15 minutes later, I’ll get a super-low. Today was a good example of that.

This morning we were talking about discipleship and how as 8 and 9 year olds the kids might not even know that they are discipling other kids. We talked about how the lives we live can be the best examples of discipleship. I told the story of one Kyra who cut her hair off and donated it to Locks of Love. The kids were floored. As in – they actually stopped talking for 3 whole minutes. Which almost NEVER happens around here. They were interested and asking questions and THEN … they asked, of their own accord, whether, instead of having a Thanksgiving feast in our classroom, we could put together Operation Christmas Child boxes for children in need. THEN, they unanimously voted that it would mean more if the $5 that’s supposed to go in those boxes was earned by them. In other words, starting now, they’re going to save their money from odd jobs, chores, allowance, whatever, and we’re going to chart their progress. Their deadline is November 1. By November 1 they have to have earned 5 dollars a box. They get to set whatever goal they want to. If they want to do 3 boxes then it’s 15 dollars, etc. I couldn’t believe that they, my class that sometimes acts more worldly than most adults I know, wanted to work and sacrifice and show the love of Jesus. I was floored, and pleased beyond words. I’m setting up the charts and things as we speak … it might not work out exactly as we talked about, but it’ll be close enough. I’m excited that I can encourage them to think of things other than what they want for themselves.

On the other end, though, we were playing a game in Spelling. It was simple – just Hangman. I have a pocketful of games for various different subjects but so far, I have this feeling that if we start playing them, a lot of these kids haven’t completely grasped the idea of friendly competition yet, there will be mayhem. At any rate, we’re playing (which, I might add, is, in my opinion, way more fun than say copying each word 3 times) and one of my students goes, “This is boring.  Can we do something else?”

It’s not that I don’t like my job.  I like my job a lot.  And it’s not that it makes me tired per se.  I love teaching, showing kids how much fun it is to keep learning as a lifelong hobby.  But I wonder sometimes if God didn’t make me a teacher just to try my patience.  A deep breath and a count to three (I don’t have time to count ten, the kids look at me funny) later,  I suggested that, perhaps, if the game was so boring, that my student could wait in the hall and copy down each spelling word 10 times each while waiting for the rest of us to finish.

It goes up, it comes down, and it makes Monday mornings reeeeeeally hard sometimes.  But in the end, you hope they learn something.  Anything.  Even if it is, “There is ALWAYS something more boring than what my teacher is doing.”

Nesting

This past weekend was surprisingly busy yet still restful.  I’m not sure how that works itself out, but it did.

Saturday, we slept late (hallelujah – I’d been waiting for an opportunity to sleep late since early August) and then got up and started getting housework done around the house.  My amazing husband ripped the icky door off our shower and replaced it with a curtain rod and shower curtain.  There’s a little caulk left, but that will come off with time.  I’m just thankful that there’s no longer clear plexiglass material anymore on my shower.  I decided to go through Natalie’s closet and start stacking and categorizing things.  I cut all the tags off the little outfits and bibs and everything else and put them away in the armoire that my friend Maureen gave us.  While I was at it, I decided that I also needed to put sheets on Natty’s bed, so I did.  I know I’m going to have to wash it again before she comes home  from the hospital but it makes that room look so much more complete.  She’s got a stuffed bear and a stuffed puppy sitting on top of the armoire and it looks more like the room is just waiting for her now.

Roxy had a crummy weekend.  Her tummy was sick and through no fault of her own, had a little accident … next to the crib in Natty’s room.  Eeeeew.  But we have some highly powerful carpet cleaner so you can’t even tell that it was there.  She seems a little better now, though.

As the day wore on, I got into hyper cleaning mode and did the kitchen (all but the floor, JJ did that), the den, the dining room, the guest room and bath, and finished off Natty’s room.  For at least a day or so, our house was nice and clean.

Jamie and James came over Saturday night for pizza and ball games.  We watched the Georgia-Oklahoma State game and then found out that James is a HUGE Red Sox fan and DirecTV offers MASN, the Maryland sports network, and since the Red Sox were playing the Orioles, we watched Buchholz pitch a no-hitter.  That, plus watching Appalachian State beat Michigan on Saturday afternoon, made for an excellent sports day.  NFL kickoff starts Thursday night.  I’m still looking for a little Steelers jersey for Natty.

Yesterday, we slept late, went to church, had lunch, and then in the afternoon went to Maureen’s daughter Caitlyn’s birthday party.  Caitlyn is also my student aide, not to mention one of my swimmers.  Maureen made a killer potato salad.  Usually potato salads are mushy, or too mustard-y, or overwhelmingly flavored.  Maureen’s was really nice and subtle, the way I like it.  Plus, there were little green crunchy things (I think they were celery or something like it) in it and I love crunchy/creamy things.

Today, JJ is off at work and I’m at home doing piles of lesson plans.  But I just finished those and have a blissful hour or so before I need to start dinner.  I think the dog and I might watch some TV, play some Wii, and read a little.  Tomorrow it’s back to the work grind, but for now … life is blissfully serene.