Wednesday, February 27
Thursday, February 21
My New Least Favorite Day
We all have dates we don't like. Not the kind with the annoying person, but dates on the calendar with significance that bring us down, make us sad (or in some cases, glad).
My new least favorite date will be March 22.
On this day, one of my best friends will move away. I'm happy for her, for her new life, so needed, and the wonderful changes that are in store for her and her four girls. I know everything happens for a reason. But, good golly, it's going to suck. Summer in the pool will be missing four friends to splash with, and a mom for me to swish wine with. (Yeah, I'm crying now.)
On this day, too, my little boy has surgery scheduled. Nothing major, just helping finish what Mother Nature didn't. But, still... it's my baby boy.
Is it April yet?
My new least favorite date will be March 22.
On this day, one of my best friends will move away. I'm happy for her, for her new life, so needed, and the wonderful changes that are in store for her and her four girls. I know everything happens for a reason. But, good golly, it's going to suck. Summer in the pool will be missing four friends to splash with, and a mom for me to swish wine with. (Yeah, I'm crying now.)
On this day, too, my little boy has surgery scheduled. Nothing major, just helping finish what Mother Nature didn't. But, still... it's my baby boy.
Is it April yet?
Wednesday, February 20
Won't You Be My Neighbor?
Yesterday was a birthday.
Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood turned 45.
Mr. Rogers Neighborhood Remix
I love Mr. Rogers. When I was little, I thought he was my dad. Or, rather, I thought my daddy was Mr. Rogers. I did! He looked just like him, my little four year old mind thought. Imagine the sadness when I realized he wasn't.
As I grew, I would always watch Mr. Rogers on TV when I stayed home sick from school. It was one of the perks. Even as I entered adulthood, and I took the occasional sick day, or mental health day, from work, I always made sure to watch Mr. Rogers. It was a comfort to me.
I was pregnant with my first when I learned that he had passed away. My husband told me, and then, later, my boss. My wonderful boss I had at the time allowed me a few minutes to cry in the comfort of his office. And I did! I always wanted to meet Mr. Rogers.
When my oldest was born, she and I would watch him on days that I was home with her. When I became a stay at home mom, I made sure to watch the show with my two, and then three, girls.
A few years ago, PBS stopped airing the syndicated reruns. I learned this just last year when looking to watch him and make him part of our day with baby girl number 4. So sad, was I.
Occasionally, we can rent videos from our local library. I'm going to make a point of doing so more often, fighting over the sparse few copies our library has in circulation with a friend.
So, go celebrate a little Make Believe, neighbor!
Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood turned 45.
Mr. Rogers Neighborhood Remix
I love Mr. Rogers. When I was little, I thought he was my dad. Or, rather, I thought my daddy was Mr. Rogers. I did! He looked just like him, my little four year old mind thought. Imagine the sadness when I realized he wasn't.
As I grew, I would always watch Mr. Rogers on TV when I stayed home sick from school. It was one of the perks. Even as I entered adulthood, and I took the occasional sick day, or mental health day, from work, I always made sure to watch Mr. Rogers. It was a comfort to me.
I was pregnant with my first when I learned that he had passed away. My husband told me, and then, later, my boss. My wonderful boss I had at the time allowed me a few minutes to cry in the comfort of his office. And I did! I always wanted to meet Mr. Rogers.
When my oldest was born, she and I would watch him on days that I was home with her. When I became a stay at home mom, I made sure to watch the show with my two, and then three, girls.
A few years ago, PBS stopped airing the syndicated reruns. I learned this just last year when looking to watch him and make him part of our day with baby girl number 4. So sad, was I.
Occasionally, we can rent videos from our local library. I'm going to make a point of doing so more often, fighting over the sparse few copies our library has in circulation with a friend.
So, go celebrate a little Make Believe, neighbor!
Tuesday, February 5
Police Prescence
For the last six weeks, policemen have been at my children's schools. Squad cars parked outside. Men inside. Dogs on patrol.
In one school, the police officer and principal stand at the end of the hallway during dismissal time, grim, serious looks on their faces. It's disheartening. It's frustrating.
I can no longer walk about the school to tend to my duties as PTO Treasurer without inconveniencing myself, my family, or the school staff. I can no longer peek my head into their classrooms, to see their blonde rimmed faces smile at me and wave from the in the middle of the pile of friends. I can no longer give my teacher friend a quick wave or hug of support during her sometimes long, long days.
My children's schools should not be this way. This does not make them safer. This does not make me feel more at ease.
All of the parents nod their head in support of this measure. "Something needs to be done," they say. But I know I am not alone in feeling that this is all more than needs to be done. I know this because I've talked to people, who, like me, have said "I feel this way, too, but I'm too scared to say it."
So I will say it.
I don't support having an armed police officer in my school. Not when my children are 5 years old. I will agree that some policies in the schools were lax, and needed review. But not with a gun, for my children to see every day, at the young age of 5.
They are far too young to grow up so quick. Their innocence will be gone before I know it. Their innocence should be allowed at school. Nurtured. Protected. But not this way.
In one school, the police officer and principal stand at the end of the hallway during dismissal time, grim, serious looks on their faces. It's disheartening. It's frustrating.
I can no longer walk about the school to tend to my duties as PTO Treasurer without inconveniencing myself, my family, or the school staff. I can no longer peek my head into their classrooms, to see their blonde rimmed faces smile at me and wave from the in the middle of the pile of friends. I can no longer give my teacher friend a quick wave or hug of support during her sometimes long, long days.
My children's schools should not be this way. This does not make them safer. This does not make me feel more at ease.
All of the parents nod their head in support of this measure. "Something needs to be done," they say. But I know I am not alone in feeling that this is all more than needs to be done. I know this because I've talked to people, who, like me, have said "I feel this way, too, but I'm too scared to say it."
So I will say it.
I know what happened six weeks ago, so very, very nearby. I know.
That is not the norm. The chances of that happening again are so infinitesimal.
I don't support having an armed police officer in my school. Not when my children are 5 years old. I will agree that some policies in the schools were lax, and needed review. But not with a gun, for my children to see every day, at the young age of 5.
They are far too young to grow up so quick. Their innocence will be gone before I know it. Their innocence should be allowed at school. Nurtured. Protected. But not this way.
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