Life List
After reading Maggie Mason’s life list and being inspired as she crosses items off, I have begun to develop my own list. Here are the first 50. I was tempted to add items such as “see daughter graduate from college” or “hold my grandbabies”…but then I re-evaluated the point of the list, and decided that for the most part the list shouldn’t be contingent on anyone else – but things that I can make happen. Also, didn’t want to put undue pressure on my daughter for needing to live up to what I envision for her life – I want her dreams to be her reality but be here to provide the support and opportunity. Sorry about the tangent…
2 things to note about the list. Anywhere it reads “Meredith”, you can assume that it implies that I will include any children we have in the future. I don’t leave them out of the fun. Also, I reserve the right to amend or add to this list at any time 
So, here are the first 50 items on my “Bucket List”
- Become good at a craft I enjoy
- Write a cook book
- Write a children’s book (at least to give to my own kids/grandkids)
- Be a weight I am happy with
- Be able to do 25 push-ups
- Take Meredith berry and apple picking and then bake pies
- Be able to make pie crust from scratch without looking at a recipe
- Eat dinner at French Laundry
- Spend the day at Nick’s Lake with my daughter, husband and parents
- Smores in the backyard with Meredith and Josh
- Coffee and pastry at a café in Paris
- Gelato and espresso in Rome
- Swim in the Mediterranean
- Be organized
- Host a slumber party for Meredith and her friends
- Create our own Christmas traditions
- Send Mom to the Kentucky Derby
- Set foot in all 50 states
- See a show on Broadway
- Send Dad to the Super bowl
- Plant and maintain a beautiful perennial garden
- Wear heels unapologetically
- Have an extended family portrait taken
- Host a wine tasting party
- Color Easter eggs with Meredith
- Decorate Christmas cookies with Meredith
- Eat only local foods for one summer (at least)
- Drink Guinness in a pub in Dublin
- Drink Tea in London again
- Institute regular tv/computer/phone free days for the family
- Look for shells with Meredith at the ocean
- Adopt a child through Compassion International or similar organization
- Be debt free
- Skinny Dip
- Take Meredith sledding
- Make homemade ice-cream
- Own a home with a walk-in pantry, fire place, linen closet, window seat, dining room, big bath tub
- Share a bottle of wine with Meredith (when she is old enough)
- Scuba dive at Great Barrier Reef
- Stop buying pre-made spaghetti sauce
- Give husband standing ovation as he walks across stage having completed doctorate
- Watch Disney’s Robin Hood with Meredith in our pajamas as we share a snack
- Ride a horse
- Hot air balloon ride
- Listen as my daughter reads me a book
- Drink hot cocoa with Meredith after we build a snow man
- Spend Independence Day in Washington D.C.
- Go somewhere with my husband that requires a gown and a tux (being in a wedding doesn’t count)
- Teach a workshop to other teachers about an instructional practice or tool I have developed
I will admit, that I was a bit shocked at how many of them are food or travel related…oh well.
What are some items on your list?
Not me!
Before I had my daughter, there were several things that I thought (and probably even declared) I would never do. Oh, silly naive pre-baby me! Here is a short list of the things that I swore I would never do – but, alas, have found they saved my life (or at least my immediate sanity)
Things I Won’t Ever Do:
- Co-sleep – Before she was born I was all “that baby will learn to sleep in her own bed” (though I did plan on having her in our room for the first couple of months…but in a bassinette). But, our first night home (so not good at sticking to my guns) she screamed. I mean Sca-hareamed!!! The only thing that calmed her was having her near us. Now, I could have been a hard-ass and made the 2 day old do something she didn’t want to do, but we snuggled with her that night. She was happier. I slept for the first time in 4 days, and all was right with the world. After that first night she would start each night in her bassinette, but when she woke up and wanted to be held, we brought her into bed with us. For the last several months she has been sleeping in her own crib, in her own room…and sleeping through the night. But, we have the occasional bad night, and on these nights, she stays with us and we all get sleep. I like to think that we are teaching her independence, but also that when she needs us, we are here for her.
- Formula feed – Why would I do anything but nurse? Well, a starving baby who is losing weight and may need to go back to the hospital will quickly teach you why. I have written about this before, needless to say, my mind was changed on this one.
- Give a pacifier – First , my daughter doesn’t have a pacifier often, but that is her choice. When she first began eating from the bottle she was so excited to be getting food that she would eat until she was overfull (I am not sure she knew what “full” felt like) and then puke massive amounts. Not giving her anything when she wanted to eat (even though I knew she had just eaten) and telling her “Mommy knows best” would result in so much screaming she would puke (not helpful). So, I started giving her a pacifier after she had eaten but wanted to keep sucking. It worked! If she were actually hungry the pacifier would not, pacify her. But if she simply wanted to keep sucking, it was perfect. Now she knows when she is hungry and this trick is not necessary, but we still occasionally use a pacifier at the grocery store or in the car.
Sleepless
I have been blessed with a fantastic sleeper for a child. I have boasted that she has slept through the night (with only a few bumps in the road) since the end of June. What I haven’t told however, is that while she is sleeping, I am not. Call it worry. Call it fear. Call it bat-shit-crazy. I cannot sleep. I have been unable to diagnose the problem entirely but every night I am entirely unable to rest. My best nights, I lay awake for an hour and then fall asleep – my worst nights, I am awake and stressed until two in the morning.
I worry that I won’t hear her if she needs me.
I worry when I am awake and I don’t hear anything that she is not breathing.
I worry when I am awake and I hear her that she is going to wake up.
I worry that when she wakes up alone she will be afraid.
I worry that when she wakes up she will want to play and not go back to sleep.
I worry that I haven’t thought of all the scenarios that I should be concerned about.
I lay in bed with my head hanging off the edge so that my hearing isn’t impaired by silly things like the pillow or the mattress. I stare at the monitor to watch for it to light up with noise. When I finally calm enough to close my eyes my senses go into hyper-mode, my body tenses and my head fills with “what ifs”. I get mad and jealous at my husband because he is able to sleep and then remind myself that I am irrational and he is the sane one. Then I get jealous of his sanity and my jealousy keeps me awake.
Sigh, hopefully my exhaustion gets the better of me soon and I will sleep in spite of myself.
A Weighty Topic
First, let’s get two things straight. 1) I have never been thin. Even when I was fit (In high school and was a varsity athlete, and was in fact very much in shape.) I was a size 10 and depending on the garment a 12. But it has been a while since I was fit. 2) I don’t claim to know much at all about fashion.
My baby is three months old. While I would have liked for the pregnancy weight to fall off my body with ease – this is not the case. Well, if I am going for full disclosure, I have done very little to make it fall off. The last three months of my life have been spent admiring my baby, being stuck inside most days due to rain, and eating whatever is convenient (not necessarily low-cal). Needless to say, I am bigger than I was pre-pregnancy – I will go so far and say that I am fat.
This new shape of mine bothers me. I am embarrassed of the way I look even in front of my husband. Friends of mine looked like their pre-pregnancy selves seemingly the day after delivery. And I am constantly replaying comments I have heard about other women regarding their inability to lose their weight thus reminding myself how I will be subject to this same ridicule.
One day I will lose the weight – but I will be honest with myself and admit that day is not going to be super soon. I know that when I return to work I will not want to miss ANY more minutes with my child than I have to and therefore exercise will not be on the top of my priority list.
So, today I found myself at the mall. Needing to have professional clothing to wear to work, and having this new shape to deal with, I had some shopping to do. It became clear early in the shopping trip that I could not shop in the “regular” section of the department stores and had to instead venture to the dreaded “Women’s” department. I have always been able to shop in the “normal” sizes – even if I did have to always choose garments from the back of the rack where the sizes were the largest.
As I walked through the stores on my way to my new department I walked by several racks of professional attire. When I reached my destination I was shocked to find little more than elastic pants (fake denim even!) and smock style shirts in hideous large prints. I was disgusted. To find clothing suitable for work I had to paw through the racks of crap to find the tiny selection of cloths that were appropriate. My anger grew by the minute. I realized that the fashion industry looks down on those of us who shop in this department. It pissed me off.
I got the impression today that it is assumed that if you are fat (let’s just skip all the nice politically correct terms for a minute – if people are judgmental they are thinking “big boned”) you must be lazy and not care. Fat people aren’t worthy of the same quality of those who care enough to be skinny. Elastic fake denim pants with tapered legs are perfect for fat people – because they don’t care! Also, fat people must be stupid – who else will assume that a big baggy shirt with huge print makes them appear smaller? No one – just fat people!
I had been completely unaware of this discrepancy in choice between those who are under a size 14 and those who are over until today. I had always assumed that the clothing choices would be the same, just, you know, larger.
Let’s face it. The world is full of successful, beautiful, driven, fantastic fat people who deserve more than smocks, muumuus, and elastic waists! I was disgusted today by more than my own muffin top – and feel for all those women who have been living under this stereotype for years.
Three Months Old
The first letter I wrote to Meredith can be found here and the second here
Dearest Meredith,
Happy three months! You have continued to grow and change so much. As you father would say, “you’re such a little person!” It seems like each day you grow and learn something new. I am in awe of you.
This month, like the last, we did much traveling! I am so thankful that you are well behaved in the car because you have allowed us many wonderful experiences as a family already. Our first big trip took us to Elmira College for reunion to meet Mommy’s friends and you got to visit your Grandma and Grandpa Fiske’s house for the first time. I had been waiting with excitement and anticipation for this trip long before you were born. You see, these friends mean the world to me. It was strange and difficult to go through the whole experience of being pregnant with you, preparing for you, and getting to know you without sharing some of that with them. So, to finally see you in their arms, smile at them and they at you, filled a spot in my heart that had been waiting for that experience. For an even greater blessing, we got to see many of these friends again at Jess’s wedding! You behaved phenomenally and we were able to celebrate this awesome day for Jess and Steve. I hope for many wonderful things in your life Meredith, but one specific hope I have for you is that you have friends like these.
The same weekend as reunion was Fathers’ Day! We had a lot to celebrate little lady! Not only did we spend the day with your amazing Daddy, but we traveled, with your Grandparents, to your Great Grandpa Fiske’s house to spend the day with every generation of Fiske Dad. It was awesome to see you with your Great Grandparents and to celebrate these important men in your life.
I am so amazed at what you have learned to do this month. It is astounding. While at the end of last month you were beginning to be able to bear some weight on your legs, you can now stand for long periods of time just holding our hands! You love to stand so much that occasionally you will throw a small fit if we dare to have you in a different position. Your daddy put together one of your jumpers for you and you LOVE it! You seem so proud to be able to “stand” with out either of us holding you (we are proud of you too!).
Last month you learned to smile, this month you began to laugh! You are such a happy baby and your smile and laugh bring so much joy into our lives. The first time we experienced your laugh was when you were playing with Daddy. You found his laugh so funny you couldn’t help but laugh yourself, then he laughed at you, and you back at him. This went on for a long time. I couldn’t stop watching the two of you as you cracked each other up – it was hysterical and touching at the same time. For a few weeks you wouldn’t laugh at anyone but him (you two have always had a special bond) but now you will laugh at my silliness as well. I look forward to much silliness and laughter in our future.
You made a great discovery this month – your hands! These provide (almost) endless entertainment. Sometimes you slowly move your fist in front of your face and watch it with great interest – it seems to take a lot of concentration to move your hand where you want it. Other times you fold your hands in front of you as though you are praying. Recently you have found great joy in sucking on your hands and fingers. Whatever you do with your hands you always look at us like, “Can you believe that these awesome toys are attached?! I am so lucky!”
With the discovery of your hands and some knowledge now of how they work you are able to enjoy more of your toys. On your play gym you can catch some of the toys that hang and shake them and try to eat them. You are now also able to enjoy some of the other toys that we have for you. You can hold them and shake them – you love that YOU control whether they make noise or not and that you can get them into your mouth! This new fascination in toys allows us new activities to do together, which is proving to be much fun.
Ok, this next accomplishment I can hardly believe myself. I almost don’t want to write about it for fear that I will jinx it, but at the same time I am so overjoyed and proud that I can’t help but share it with the world. You sleep through the night! You no longer need to eat in the middle of the night or need to sleep in our bed. You fall asleep between 10 and 12 (so we don’t really have a schedule yet, we are working on it!) and you sleep until at least 6:30 – some mornings as late as 8:30! There have been some days when you wake up, eat, and then go back to sleep till 10 or 11. It is crazy – but wonderful crazy! I love to get you in the morning when you wake. You are usually all smiles, and when I pick you up you nuzzle your face into my neck as if to say “Oh how I have missed you” then we cuddle on the couch for a peaceful breakfast complete with lots of smiles and coos.
You still prefer to nap in my arms – but I will trade daytime productivity for a good night of sleep any day! The naptime thing could be my fault. While I am thrilled that you sleep on your own at night, part me misses you dearly and so when I get snuggle time during the day I am reluctant to give you up. What has made this harder for me, is that we have transitioned you to your own room (until this week we had you in the bassinet in our bedroom) and you seem so far away at night time (I know, its just across the hall.) For so long we slept so close – and therefore now, during the day, I still rest my cheek against your head and hold you close to my heart.
There is so much from the last three months that I cannot put into words. How do I properly describe the light in your smile, or the softness of your head, or the scent of your neck as we snuggle? How do I write about the feel of your fingers around my pinky as you eat, or the puzzled look on your face when we wash your hair, or the sounds you make as you sleep? Or how to I convey to you how you have completely transformed my heart and soul in ways I cannot comprehend. To simply say that I love you is an understatement, yet that is as close as language allows me to come. Being your Mommy is the very best thing I have ever done and I am so blessed by you every day.
Here’s to all the giggles, smiles, silliness, and milestones to come. Our days are better because of you.
Love, Mommy
Labor of Love
It has been about three months since the delivery of my daughter, and for a long time I didn’t know if it was something I wanted to write about – but looking back on that day which was the day that redefined me as a person – I have decided it should be chronicled.
Josh and I left our house strangely unceremoniously at 5:45 on Monday, April 13th to go to the hospital. Part of me was still disappointed that I did not go into labor on my own and needed to be induced, but that part was rapidly being taken over by my excitement that we were finally going to meet our baby and by my growing nerves.
On the drive I repeated countless times how nervous I was about the IV, Josh first just looked at me as if to say “you are nervous about the IV, you DO know what we are going to the hospital to do right??” But rather tease me; he simply and calmly said, “They only let the best nurses work in maternity.” This was the first of countless times over the next two days that he would calm my heart.
After some paperwork at the hospital, blood work, and a final pregnancy weigh in, we headed to our room. First order of business was the dreaded IV, and I would love to tell you that Josh was right, and that it was a piece of cake, but no. The nurse struggled to find a vein, and once it was inserted it continued to hurt. Not just a slight annoyance, but really hurt. I mentioned this, and the nurse looked at me like “wimp, do you KNOW what you are here to do” (already sick of this look) and I decided, as this was my first IV, that I didn’t really know what they were supposed to feel like, so I resigned myself to the reality that this was going to hurt until the baby was born. Ew. Thankfully, that nurse’s shift ended and Marcy entered. I was so excited. Marcy goes to church with us, is a true saint, and works in the maternity ward. She has changed her schedule to be with us each night we were in the hospital. I whined one last time to her about the painful IV and she reacted as I hoped – informing me that it shouldn’t hurt at all (I KNEW I was right!) She removed the bad IV and immediately my bed was covered in blood – so soaked that they had to get me new bedding – “hmm,” I thought, “I didn’t expect the gore till later” she then successfully inserted a painless IV. She would continue to bless us throughout our stay at the hospital.
After being “checked” we were told that I had made it to 3 cm on my own (at least I got something done in the week after her scheduled due date). The doctor decided against Cervidil because of this and decided to start me on low dose Pitocin throughout the night. I was soon informed that because I would be on Pitocin, I had to be constantly monitored. Two large disks were strapped to my belly to monitor the baby’s heartbeat and the contractions. Then, worse news, no eating until after the baby is born. I was watching my plans for my labor fly out the window. I had wanted things to be as natural and “normal” as possible. I first dreamed of staying home and avoiding the hospital for as much of labor as possible, avoiding as many drugs as possible, doing whatever my body wanted during labor (eating, moving, etc.) one by one, each of these seemed to be stolen from me.
The first night was difficult. Labor had not really started, so for all intensive purposes I was “comfortable”. But, comfortable I was not. Try as we might to get sleep that first night, the pressure of “resting up for what was ahead”, the excitement and nerves that were building as we got closer to meeting our daughter, combined with the world’s most uncomfortable bed left me squirming throughout the night. Each time I moved a disk on my belly would shift, setting off some kind of “no-baby-heart-beat” alarm at the nurses’ station. A nurse would come in, need to adjust the disks, and then I could try to sleep again. To insure that I would not sleep well, every 30 minutes someone had to take my blood pressure. Basically, each time I may have almost dozed off, I was interrupted. Josh and I figure I may have gotten a total of 1 or 2 hours of sleep.
After a breakfast of tea, chicken broth, and a popsicle, it was decided that the doctor would break my water to move things along. It was the hope that throughout the night on the Pitocin drip that I would make some progress. But, the best my doctor could do in trying to keep me encouraged was to tell me that I had thinned out some (meaning, 12+ hours of Pitocin hadn’t done anything). I also noticed a slight change in the vocabulary being used. I was now being told that “hopefully” we would have a baby by that evening rather than “we should have a baby by the evening.” Ugh.
After my water was broken, things got interesting. I had lost my “cushion” against the force of the contractions – and with the Pitocin on full blast things quickly went from “let’s play cards” to “ohmyeffingod this huuuuurts”! There was no natural building of intensity as there may be in natural labor. However, I was excited that things may start happening now and had hope that with pain would come progress.
Josh and I tried a variety of things – finally settling on the Jacuzzi tub. My immediate reaction to the tub was bliss. The water helped me relax enough that there as some break in the pain between the contractions and I was able to catch my breath. But, all good things must come to an end and after about an hour we learned that the batteries on my “portable monitors” (these belly disks allowed me to get out of bed, take walks and baths) were dying and I had to return to bed to once again be tethered to the machines.
I did as I was told. Returned to bed. Was reattached to the monitors. And quickly said goodbye to my last hopes of getting through labor without pain medication. I had hoped to labor and deliver without pain medication – partly due to my research that it is better for mom and baby to do so, but also due to my fear of needles. I had told Josh many times during my pregnancy that I might consider an epidural if a huge needle in my back sounded like more fun than what I was currently experiencing – and at this point, with no sleep, no food, and the inability to leave the bed to try and relieve the pain – a huge needle in my back was beginning to sound like an all expenses paid vacation! “I think I need something,” I sobbed to Josh.
Little did I know that he was HOPING I was going to ask for drugs! He later told me that he had been fighting the urge to ask me if I wanted drugs knowing my plan for the birth, but his heart was hurting watching me. He said that epidurals are just as much for husbands as they are for the laboring mom.
Josh informed the nurse of our decision to take pain medication. She suggested, and we agreed, that I should be checked first to see my progress. If I were almost fully dilated I may be able to make it without drugs. I was 5cm. I had been on Pitocin for almost 23 hours and had progressed 2cm. Time for Drugs!
As the anesthesiologist was currently in surgery, it was decided to give me something quick to take the edge off. The nurse said, “This will make you a little high, just enjoy the buzz.” As I had not even had a sip of wine since we started trying for a baby, this buzz was intense. While it did not take the pain away entirely, it made me indifferent and almost absent from the experience. I am glad that I did not spend the rest of my labor and delivery in this state, but it was a nice reprieve.
When it was time for the epidural I leaned forward with my face on Josh’s chest as he stood in front of me. I concentrated hard on not moving and thinking about ANYthing other than the huge needle that I knew was being used. When I was told I could lift my head I was surprised to see that my face had been resting on the ample bosom of my new nurse. “This is not how I usually say hello to folks,” I said to her, “nice to meet you. Where is my husband?” She moved to the side and I then saw Josh, pale and sweaty, in a chair and a room full of people who were not there when the procedure began. My look of bewilderment must have been clear, so someone explained to me that Josh had gotten a bit faint and a code had been called for him. He later explained, when the room was less full, that the full weight of his responsibility as the one to hold me during the procedure hit him hard and he could not stop thinking that if he moved, I could be seriously injured – and that is what caused him to become dizzy.
The epidural did the trick. I could breathe again. Though it made me a bit nauseated and caused me to throw up a few times, it was still worth it. I napped! And, best of all, I was once again able to be excited about meeting my daughter rather than having the pain blur out the excitement.
At about 12:45 I was very uncomfortable again. Pressure had gotten so intense that I could no longer rest nor sit in a position that was anything other than painful. I didn’t want to wake Josh, because I knew he needed his rest too, and I felt silly pushing the call button (what was I going to say “Um, this labor hurts…?”) so instead, I devised a plan using what I had learned the night before. I moved the heartbeat disk knowing a nurse would come to check the belly monitors. It worked! Soon a nurse arrived, asked me how I was feeling and I tried, as casually as possible to tell her about this crazy pressure. “I’ll get the doctor,” she calmly said.
My doctor, who was staying the night in the maternity ward, (just for me!) came in to check me. “You will be pushing in about 40 minutes,” she said. I hardly believed her. “We are going to get set up, but you are almost there!” Who knows if it was that I was finally able to relax or if my body just thought it was time to move things along but our long awaited arrival was not going to keep us waiting much longer.
The nurse and the doctor left the room to get the proper equipment and I woke Josh. “We are going to push in about 30 minutes!” I told him excitedly. “Oh,” he said then rolled over and went back to sleep. 2 minutes later he sprung up, and said with a start “Tell me again!” So I repeated the news and explained the whole pressure thing, being checked, and repeated that I was going to push very soon. This time, out of his sleep stupor, he reacted with excitement and nerves and we had a brief moment to celebrate what was to come.
The pushing was strange. I could feel the contractions and I could feel her moving down. The epidural did not take away the pain of this process. The nurse, who thankfully was not too cheerleader-y, kept saying “you are doing so well” and “that’s it” and “push like you are trying to poop”. Finally Josh said, “Honey, I can see her!” This was the first time that I believed that I was doing it right! With those simple words he gave me the confidence I needed to give it my all. A few moments later the nurse asked me if I wanted a mirror “NO!” I shouted (I didn’t think I would ever recover from that sight) then the doctor asked me if I wanted to touch the baby’s head, this I also declined but I was so excited that she had moved so far that touching her was an option. Soon the most beautiful person I had ever seen was placed on my chest.
She was not the wrinkled faced, cone head with puffy eyes and old-man face that I was expecting. She was pink, with large, open, alert eyes, long eyelashes and rose bud lips and lots of dark hair. I could not stop staring.
I stared at her as they explained that I was going to need some stitches. Stared at her during the mending and the clean up. And stared at her as the doctor and nurses left the room leaving what had been a couple and had become a family.
I still catch myself staring.
Quality Time
Something awesome happened this week. While the baby was sleeping rather than seizing the opportunity to clean the kitchen (why does the damn kitchen never STAY clean!) or to fold laundry, pick my husbands wet towels off the floor or to do anything else on my endless to do list – I picked up a book. At first I felt almost naughty – having been pleading on the inside for the baby to sleep while not in my arms because SO much had to be DONE, how could I ignore those things. But after almost 3 months of the only indulgences I had allowed myself were showers in which I used conditioner (some days there was not time), trips to Wal-mart (to grocery shop) or some chocolate (which always left me feeling guilty as my stomach is beyond gross due to housing a large baby) I needed, but almost didn’t know how to do it, some time for just me.
To anyone without a newborn, it would appear on the outside that I have had nothing but lazy relaxing days for some time now. Barely getting off the couch, sitting in front of the television…but I would argue that mindlessly watching day time television (I don’t even follow the soap operas that would be droning on in the background), stinking of puke, poop, and everything else that comes out of a baby, unable to remember the last time you brushed your teeth, all while attempting to care for a virtual stranger is not exactly relaxing.
So, Monday morning as the baby slept, I dared to pour a cup of (caffeinated!) coffee, crack open a book that had been waiting far too long to be read, and I ignored my responsibilities. I hadn’t felt so human in a long time! With the baby now able to sleep without being held, I seized every opportunity to read and by this morning I was done with the book! Not only did I have some much needed time for myself this week – but I accomplished something that won’t be undone before bedtime the way dishes and laundry always seem to be.
While I can’t always ignore the things that must be done, I have learned that I need to take time for myself. I may not devour a book every three days – and that is ok, but maybe a chapter or two with my morning coffee isn’t a bad way to begin my days and provide a much needed balance in a world where, if I am not careful, will drown in diapers, puke, and bad day time television
A Rant*
With the recent announcement that Sarah Palin is resigning and with the surge of speculation that she may run for president (shudder) – America’s favorite hockey mom is back in the (liberal, biased) media. First, I have had ENOUGH, so in a way I can’t believe that I am spending what free time I have writing and therefore thinking about this – but I am a tad annoyed. The only reason that having Palin run for president would be beneficial would be the resurgence of Tina Fey impersonations – so the excitement that I have heard regarding this idea as good for our country has me befuddled.
It is one thing to disagree with or even dislike our current president. You are entitled to your opinion (though it is not one I share with you). But please, do me a favor and don’t insult yourself by saying that Mrs. Palin would be better for our country. Argue almost anyone else and you may have a leg to stand on…but Sarah? Sarah the lipstick-jokin’, you betcha’in, media blamin’, self proclaimed reader of everything (read: nothing), Russia-gazin’ PALIN? Come on.
Recently I have heard an argument that she would be better than the “imbecile we have in there (White House) now.” First, you may not like Obama, but you may have a better argument than to call him an “imbecile”. Whether or not you agree with his policies, you can’t deny his intelligence. The man graduated magna cum laude from Harvard Law -not exactly stupid. Not that I am arguing that collegiate records are all that matter, but Miss Wasilla has a bachelors degree that took her 5 years to complete (Joe Six-pack graduated in four years I believe…).
I want to see a woman in the highest office in the land. (I am even a registered republican.) But, we can do better than Palin. If anyone believes that she is the best our gender has to offer, it is an insult to all women.
Do I believe she is a bad choice for America? You Betcha!
*Rant – not an intelligent, academic argument. If you require one, I’ll make it. This is simply a venting session about my recent feelings about this issue.
Balance
Me: Oh my GOD! We have mice. Do you see this? THIS is mouse poop. POOP! We can’t have vermin. We have a baby. Vermin make us bad parents. They are dirty and gross and they POOP! Kill them, you have to kill them! I am going to throw out everything in the kitchen and buy new in case the mice have looked at it. I am a bad mother, I let mice in this house! Is the baby ok?
Him: …What? Oh, just a mouse? When I was a kid a mouse ran over my face while I was sleeping and I’m fine. I’m sure we don’t have that many yet.
In Defense of Public Education*
Where I live, I am surrounded by people who choose to home-school their children. While I respect their decision to do this, I find myself feeling like a black sheep (a) because we cannot afford for me to stay home, home schooling is not an option for us (b) I am a teacher in the (gasp!) public school. I know that people have had complaints about the public school system forever, as people complain about every system. I am also not here to claim that the system is perfect. However, I do believe in the system and know first hand the benefits and opportunities it provides the children within. Perhaps it is because of my surroundings, or simply the fact that when I look at my infant I cannot yet imagine ever being away from her, but occasionally I feel guilt about our decision as a family to indeed send our daughter to public school and I need to remind myself that we have made the right decision. These are the things I tell myself:
- There is no better place for social interaction! While at times as a teacher in a high school I plead for less social interaction, it is in fact a healthy and necessary aspect of education. Beginning in kindergarten (or younger) kids learn the very important skills of making friends, resolving conflicts, sharing, being a good friend, etc.
- While individualized attention is beneficial to the learning process (and individual attention is provided at the public school!) the group dynamic is also essential. From small things such as waiting your turn and raising your hand to the greater skills of debating, note taking, participating in large discussions, adding to group projects, and others -the group dynamic prepares students for life after school.
- There is a beautiful diverse population within the public school system. I love that my daughter will get to know and befriend children with different backgrounds than she has, teaching her that everyone is different and deserves respect. There will be children who come from single parent homes, homes with gay parents, children that practice a different religion, who are poor, who have much more money than we have, who are a different race, who have different interests and ability levels…I could go on. Children can learn powerful lessons from and be challenged by their peers and this I believe is invaluable.
- While I would like to believe that my child will breeze through school only every earning A’s – there is the distinct possibility that she, like so many others, will have things that she struggles with. While we of course will be involved in her education and help her as much as we can, and as I am an English teacher feel that I am equipped to help with certain difficulties – I am glad that she will be surrounded by experts who are uniquely qualified to assist her as needed. Also, I do not feel that I would be the best person to challenge my daughter in certain areas. Should Meredith prove to be gifted in science or math especially, I am thankful she will be with teachers daily who can help her to grow in these areas and present her with challenges and opportunities beyond what I would be able to provide.
- It is true, when in the public school children are faced with realities that we as parents would like to shield them from. However, having my daughter exposed to certain realities while she is young and still living under my roof gives me a certain reassurance knowing that she and I will be able to talk about these things and I can help her learn and grow through these experiences before she is out on her own and may not choose to talk to me about things. Also, as a Christian I believe that we are to live IN the world but not be OF this world. Being able to teach my daughter this concept first hand starting at a young age I believe will help her immensely in her decision making as she gets older.
- There is no love like a mother’s love, but schoolteachers also love their students and care for them with every ounce of energy they have. I know as a teacher that I love my students! I ache for them when they are hurting, and celebrate with them through their successes. Also, I have so many wonderful memories of teachers of my own that guided me, taught me, and loved me. I would not be who I am today without those individuals.
I could go on (discipline, time management, availability of resources, keeping a schedule, organization, belonging to a community, and, and and…). I obviously believe that the public school system is a great place for kids, or I would not have a career within the system. Everyday I see students benefit from, thrive in, and grow because of their experience in school and am glad that my daughter will be given the same opportunity.
*I know there are positive aspects of home-schooling as well, but as this is about defending public education and my decision, I didn’t feel the need to get into those. Thanks for understanding!
