First Day of School Cool

Fist pump and they're off. In seconds, they are off to rekindle friendships they had to put on hold for what seemed like "FOREVVERRRR," or 82 days, depending on your perspective.  I chat with a fourth grade father who I would describe as capitol G double E...  okay let's just say...the electrical engineer type.  Actually, in the two minutes we pointed out our daughters he managed to tell me he was newly divorced, relocated and his daughter was being picked up by Grandma just like mine.  Daughter reassured him she and her best friend would take care of his daughter with a quick chin bob and "sure thing.".  With a quick hug and a reminder Granma was the pick-up goddess today, I  head over to second grade.  One more fist pump to the cool cat in blue, and out of there before the bell rings at 32 seconds past 9:01 am, according to my watch.

There are times in the course of parenting when you are thumped on the head and hear the whisperings, "They are growing up?"  My son changing his clothes in the men's locker room unaccompanied is a great example.  Also, my daughter asking to use the phone in her room so she could talk for an hour about "stuff" with her girlfriend is another.  Walking into class on the first day of school unaccompanied, with no tears, and a fist pump instead of a hug is another one.

We have come a long way finding acceptance in where we are in the space in time in which we exists.  I say we as I reflect that it was me who got teary eyed when I sent Daughter to her first day of Mom's Day Out at the Sunflower Farm.  Yes, she didn't fuss.  She twirled around to the dress up clothes, put on some fairy wings, and jumped up and down wanting to feed the baby goats.  Son was more hesitant at his first day of Farm School a year later, but he had his sister shoving him around to this goat pin and that chicken coop. "Use the sanitizer after you feed the animals," she instructs the rules in her three year old speak.

Transition to inside school was pretty smooth as the move was made as it was getting cold and snowy.  This preschool was two days of painting, crafting, numbers, and letters.  Really, the teachers were quiet excellent so we stayed on through four year old and pre-K.  Well, that is not the only reason.  My cancer journey started during those preschool years and the church preschool was so supportive of my needs as well as having a lunch hour option when I needed more time to recoup from treatment.

Starting at the public school was a whole different demonstration of attachment on the first day of school and beyond.  Regardless of the fact that we had just gone through a hard year of surgeries and chemotherapy and daughter technically didn't attend Kindergarten, her first grade year was full of tears.  Each morning, I pried her off my leg crying.  I blessed the teacher and left trying to keep calm.  Luckily Son's pre-K started before his elder siblings, and he missed the drama except on Fridays.

Maybe watching his sister's drama once a week was enough of an example. The next year, second grade, Daughter gained her courage and entered class a little more smoothly.  She would hold me for a little too long at the door making us late.  Anyway, we often just made the late bell due to Daughter or Son having a fit at the house about going upstairs to get socks, shoes won't tie themselves, hair doesn't want to be brushed, or shirt is too itchy.  This was the year, Kindergarten, for Son to write his own screen play drama called "I Don't Want to Let Go of My Mom's Apron Strings."  Since the room door was on the inside of the building, I had to literally pick him up and put him inside.  Some mornings I just walked him down to the principal's office to "collect" himself because I had an appointment at 9:30.  With assistance of the teachers and school counselor, both kids found their way into their classrooms by the end of the year.

Last year was touch and go on wanting to be away from me.  The year started well as Son got to go in to his classroom prior to the school year starting to "help" his teacher.  This was so he could work out with her some special needs he had before starting with all new kids.  They created their own "sign language" and he started off as a leader in the classroom.  Or, maybe the year started off so well because Daughter had the same teacher the past two years...or because Mrs. D. is so totally awesome!  Daughter was a bit of a struggle as she had reading tutoring at 8 am.  pretty tough year for her always thinking she was "stupid" because she was "one of those kids."  One of a dozen kids from her grade level.

Whether it is accurate or not, I put stupid cancer to blame for my children's attachment issues.  I was pondering the other day how growing up in a cancer family effects them.  I know lots of children have a hard time going to school.  I know it is age appropriate to spout off to your mother one minute that she is "ruining" your life by asking you to where you are going, who you are calling, not letting you go there because she hasn't met those parents, and did you do your chores.  And then, the next minute, turn around and cry when you are asked to leave her side.  My children are old enough now that they talk about their past four years.  Jack told his friend the other day, "You never saw my mom with long hair, huh?  I can barely remember what she looked like."  There is a family portrait in the living room taken the Sunday before my surgery.  Son is three.  Daughter is four.  Husband is, well 40 ish. And, I had just turned 34.  When I heard this comment by my son, I realized his only memory of me with hair is that portrait. Daughter has talked to me at night before bed that she is sometimes afraid to go to sleep at night because she is scared that I won't be there in the morning.  She says that she was too scared to sleep when I was gone for ten days (brain surgery) last October, she didn't know if I was coming home...ever.

This summer, I heard the whisperings, "They are growing up, Mom."  They rode bikes over to friend's houses, called peers to set up their own play dates, learned phone manners, jumped off the top of the houseboat with the teenagers, climbed a 14er, rafted class 3/4 rapids, learned to ride a bike with only hand breaks, didn't really want me around in the pool but did want me to teach them how to swim correctly, and they even flew to my in-laws all by themselves so I could attend my high school reunion.  It has been a crazy summer of cutting the apron strings.  Okay, I refer to it as more like making the apron strings bungee cords.  They bounce right back to my apron folds when they fall, get picked on, get frustrated, or even when they are totally excited.  I love you kiddos!  I am so proud of you for walking into school without drama nor fuss especially when you are going home with Granma because it is my treatment day.  Yes, don't forget your fist pumps.  Id rather have a hug, you know. 

Because of You - the Poem

Because of you I ate rabbit.

Because of you I swallowed a gold fish.

Because of you of you, you, and you,

I have swallowed a snail, ate rattle snake,

Munched on ants, considered scorpion 

and passed.

And you, you made me laugh so hard

Soda sprayed out of my nose,

Gross.

Because of you I have climbed a Fourteener,

Or two, or three, or seven.

Because of you I am a poor fly fisher

It's not your fault, you tried.

Because of you, you, and you, I have

Kayaked, swam under the ocean, tried surfing, 

Jumped waves, ran from sea foam, and

Built castles in the sky, I mean sand.

Because of you I have water skied, snow skied, 

Snow shoed, cross country skied, ice skated

and sled down the bunny hill.

Because of you I jumped off the high dive.

Because of you I decided not to jump out of a plane.

Because of you I climbed up a rock face

And loved the thrill of the repel.

Because of you I have seen the South West quarter

Of the United States of America, Florida

Tennessee, North Dakota and the Presidents who rock.

Because of you I have been to Guadalajara, Hawaii, 

Costa Rica, the Bahamas, and climbed The Mayan ruins.

Because of you, I hiked the Swiss Alps.

And I have been to Disneyland twice.

Because of you I have tried knitting, needle pointing, quilting,

Sewing Barbie clothes, painting, scrapbooking,

Printing, metal smithing, carving, figure drawing, 

Writing Poetry, memoirs, and blogging,

Choir, drama and jazz with various degrees of success.

Because of you I have thought about Buddha and the Dali Llama

Because of you, I read parts of the Bible and Tao.

And it is all of you who have helped me

Wrap my head around the profound collective conscious

Knowledge of the Source.  

Because of you I have learned much.

Because of you I want to learn more.

Because of you I have been places, 

Sought peace and knowledge,

And spoke the words I heard.

Because of you I am who I am.

And all that I am becoming.

Because of You

Since I could speak, I have asked the question, "why am I me?" God made you that way.  Because you are no one else.  Why do you think you are you?  I remember looking up into my elder's eyes and hearing these phrases.  To this I would respond, "I just don't understand why I can't see my backside without  using  two mirrors."

I would go to my room and think and think trying to make sense of a big problem.  I just didn't understand why I thought what I thought.  And, why the color of blue of the sky I saw just may not be the color you saw.  Why did God put me here right now?  (At the time, I thought of God as a big man who watched over us and made us do things like puppets; the guy in the sky, right.). The questions were so big and so profound I would get a headache, loose interest, and return to my Barbies and Legos.

Oh, the things I have learned thus far in my life.  I will save much of my musings for another day if you will stop and have a cup of chia with me.  Today, though, I was thinking about how you help sculpt my concept of who I am.  I am in California.  I am here to visit my BFF from high school.  Twenty four years.  It was art class.  Everyone was listening to Mr. Akamichi's instruction.  The room was quiet.  Suddenly, not knowing her own volume, she shouted, "Do you have any batteries?"  She was referring to her dying CD Walkman, of course.   Later, lunch I think, I saw her leaning up against the library wall some other folks.  I asked her if she got if trouble in art class, and the rest is history.  

Throughout the years there has beenthe usual ebb and flow of a relationship.  Her life leading this way, mine that way, and both to return back to the same place. Just for a moment.  thousands miles away, we can pick up the phone a talk as if today was twenty years ago.  Today, as we walk along the coast at Point Lobos, I ask her, "what one thing in your personality do you think has changed over the years?"  I will keep her response and our further pondering between us as it should be.  But, this conversation sparked a question I had been rolling over in my mind for years, why am I me?  And, how has those I encounter in this life time effect what I know about myself?

The second reason I am here this weekend is it is our twentieth high school reunion.  Two birds one stone.  I didn't leave my school with warm fuzzy memories about all those standing with me in sheer, white acetate robes that stuck to our calves.  In fact, I left the promp and circumstance as quickly as I could eloquently place the school in my rearview mirror.   

Tonight, we had a small meet up at a pub.  I chatted with a few peers I recognized, tried to remember the names of some others, and shared photos of our kids on our IPhones.  Yes, we have come a long way from hand written book reports.  Stories were shared..."Oh,remember when... What was that teacher's name?  How's so and so doing?"  Honestly, I could only understand fifty percent of what was shared due to only having one good hearing ear.  And, I will remember even less tomorrow.

What I do remember is one fellow student telling me he'd recently had a dream about me saying something profound that changed his way of thinking.  I said something like, one doesn't go anywhere without common sense.  That comment opened up a lot of his thinking.  I so wish I could remember that conversation.  The more I think about it the more I  get closer to knowing what the heck I meant.  Yes, I think it was in Physics.  Is that right?  

At any rate, thinking about this moment in time and other memories sparked with the simple phrase, remember when..., had me thinking about how being in the same space and giving it each other thoughts in words, we inform each other.  Just because I met you, Who I am is built upon.  I am who I am because of you.  And if you think too hard on it, I know from experience, it will become so profoundly crazy you will need to go play scrabble on your iPad to crest some sense of order.