A Letter to My 4th Grader

Max: Mom, I am in 4th grade. I am so proud!


Dear Max,

As you embark on 4th grade, which I honestly can’t believe, (weren’t you just 2 yesterday?) I want to pass on a little advice. At 9, my advice is most likely still welcome but there will come a day when you will be 100% certain you know more than me. But for now, you still think I’m fairly smart, so here goes:

Be kind – To your friends, to your teacher, to strangers and especially to those who can be unkind. They need it the most.

Be persistent – Things can be tough sometimes. Learning something new, developing a new skill—it's often frustrating. Don’t let it get the best of you. Try, then try more. Don’t give up.

Be true – Be true to yourself and who you are. Just because someone else loves something doesn’t mean you have to. Love what you love.

Be content – It’s easy to look at what others have and wish for their life or what they have. Be grateful for what you have because it is exactly what you need.

Be strong – Sometimes going along with the crowd is the easy thing to do but stand strong to the things you know are right.

Be courageous – New things can be a little scary but persevering and trying something new can open the doors to things you never imagined.

Be proud – Of who you are, what you have accomplished, of where you’re going.

Be yourself - You are the only—and best—you in the world. Don’t change for anyone.

An amazing year is ahead of you, sweet boy. As a matter of fact, an amazing life is ahead of you. I am so proud of you and am lucky to be your mom.

I love you,
Mom

Lovey Dovey

“Mom, I feel like I am growing up but is it OK if I always have my lovey?”

Lovey. Issy. Blankey. Pompy. Chicken. These are actual names used by kids I know (or adults) for their soft, cuddly blanket.

I started thinking about the love of blankets the other day when a friend of mine texted me. Her daughter, now 7, found the soft, silky Little Giraffe-brand blanket I bought her when she was born. She asked where it came from. My friend explained it was a gift and her daughter replied, “I love blankey and it will be with me forever.”

I wasn’t a blanket kid. I had my thumb—it was always with me and I couldn’t lose it. But it did cost my parents thousands in orthodontist bills. Sorry, Mom. But I have a blanket kid— a lovey kid to be exact. Max has had his lovey since birth and still has it. You can see what is left of it in the picture above. He rubbed it to go to sleep, scared me by laying with it over his face while he slept, and took long sniffs of it and got the same drunk look on his face every time.

Lovey soothed boo-boos, nightmares, shots and was there after 3 surgeries. It was also introduced to every new stuffed animal that came into the house. “Knuffle Bunny, meet Lovey,” I once heard him say. When he was younger it went everywhere, even to preschool for naptime. Now, it remains in his bed to snuggle with when he sleeps. It doesn’t go to sleepovers or Scout camp but it did just leave for a week in Ohio. But I was told not to tell. Whoops.

“What would people say, Mom, if they knew a 9 year old was still carrying a lovey?” he asked.

“Don’t you think some of your friends have stuffed animals or blankets? Why don’t you ask B?” (“B” is a new friend who is starting 4th grade with Max. And a girl. She’s awesome, according to Max. And me.)

“Mom, she is a girl and girls are supposed to love soft cuddly things. Duh.”

Well, allrighty then.

So I explained that if lovey makes him happy, soothes him or helps him fall asleep then that is just fine. It is his business. No one has to know. (Well, except for the 22 of you who follow my blog. Pinky swear you won’t tell, K?)

“OK, Mom that sounds good and it can just be my secret, because it does make me feel good. And I think it always will,” he said. “Even when I am a grown up."

Leaping #2: Don’t Hate

Since my decision to leave my full time job, I have been overwhelmed with supportive and wonderful comments, calls and emails telling me to enjoy my “leap of faith,” to embrace my time with Max and my favorite—“defy gravity.” (Thank you, Robbin Davis).

Then, there are the haters.

“Why would you leave a good job?” (There are lots of good jobs)

“Are you sure you thought this through?” (No, I didn’t at all, thanks for calling that to my attention)

“I figured you would quit sooner or later.” (Most people do quit a job—or 10—in their lifetime)

“What will you do?” (Whatever the hell I want, thanks)

(Note—and all of the above comments have had “the tone”—you know exactly the tone to which I am referring .)

I have decided that people often say something snippy or hateful because they really don’t know what to say. And most likely because they could never imagine making the same choice. It’s fine if people don’t agree with my decision because the decision is mine and I don’t require permission.

I’ve loved working and have had an amazing career. Every job I’ve had has taught me so many things about myself—strengths, weaknesses, what I love and what I won’t put up with. When I became a mom, I did experience the occasional bout of mommy guilt but it usually went away as fast as it came. But with time and age comes perspective and my perspective has changed. I want off the wheel. I want balance and flexibility. I want to stay in my yoga pants all day if I choose. I want to be where I am needed the most.

So to those who don’t seem to understand my decision, I say this: someday you may have a child or husband, an aging parent, a sick in-law, a health problem or all of the above—on top of a demanding job. I can almost guarantee you will feel conflicted about how to fit it all in. Let's just hope those around you say something nice or don't say anything at all.

Leaping

"Sometimes your only form of transportation is a leap of faith”

I saw this quote several weeks ago and it has been stuck in my head ever since. I’ve never been great at leaping—let alone jumping or even baby stepping. I’m not much of a risk taker.

But I’ve learned that it is OK to step outside my comfort zone because sometimes, that is where you find all the fun. And I am doing my best to impart this to Max. As a mom, one of the many things I want to do is to help Max learn to take chances, to learn to fail, to put himself out there, to experience disappointment—all in the name of learning who he is.

At 42 I am still learning who I am and lately, my gut has told me that it is time to put my big girl pants on and take a leap. A leap into the unknown and without a huge safety net.

So today, after an amazing 20-year career in marketing and communications--full of countless experiences I wouldn’t trade for the world—I leapt. Into what? I am not really sure. I have a few ideas but for now, I am just going spread my wings and fly.

I can’t wait to see where my leap takes me.

New Shoes

Last night in yoga class my instructor encouraged us to approach our practice like we were wearing a new pair of shoes.

Huh? I love shoes but what do they have to do with yoga?

"New shoes are rarely comfortable the first time you wear them," she explained. “It takes wearing them over & over before they feel just right.” She suggested using this approach on our mat—doing something a little uncomfortable: a new pose, stretch or something completely different than what we usually do.

I took her advice. I did something different in crane pose, jumped back to downward-facing dog instead of stepping back; I worked on my gaze in airplane and jumped higher and stronger in dancing monkey. None of this felt comfortable in the slightest when I was doing it, but once I had time to reflect on what I accomplished, it was empowering.

Why is this so relevant to me? Because I am the queen of finding what's comfortable & sticking with it. There are countless times I wore the same old shoes. I knew how they fit and what to expect so why should I put on a different pair? I am certain there are things I’ve missed because I didn't try the new shoes.

As class ended, our instructor praised us for practicing with our new shoes. Her challenge as we were leaving? To wear those same new shoes in our life off our mat.

Sounds like the perfect idea. What girl doesn't like a new pair of shoes?

Remembering Bo

Bo joined our family 11 years ago as an eight- week-old puppy. Sophie, our female Lab was two the time and certainly needed a friend, I decided. Bo was wild, had great puppy breath and loved to bark at Sophie and the cats (who were old and cranky and frequently swatted him). Sophie quickly let Bo know who was boss and all was well in our house. They were the best of friends.

Over the years Bo had countless visits to the Braum’s drive thru for ice cream, swims at various lakes, walks through the neighborhood, naps in the sunshine and many other experiences that prove it is great to be an animal at my house. When Max came along, Bo was the first to give him a big sloppy kiss (which my grandmother assured me would immediately make Max sick—it didn’t).

Bo’s escapades of raiding the pantry are known far and wide and I still don’t know if it was Bo or Ben the Cat who could open the door but my money was on Bo. He could eat a box of Krispy Kreme donuts in less than 30 seconds. Bo loved shoes and caused me great stress when he decided to chew up a pair I borrowed from my friend Heidi. I cried to the shoe repairman and he made them look like new. And who could forget the bouncy ball incident. A 25-cent ball from a vending machine cost me $1300 in vet bills. But Bo was worth every penny.

Before Thanksgiving I noticed Bo wasn’t himself. I knew he was sick but I didn’t want to hear it. I just kept thinking he would get better. When I finally had the courage to take him in he was diagnosed with kidney failure. I knew it would eventually take his life but I hoped for later rather than sooner. IV fluids and a special diet helped him bounce back until just after Christmas. On New Year’s Eve when he stopped eating, I knew he was telling me that it was time. Sunday afternoon, I put him on the bed with me and we took a nap. He put his head on my pillow and I rubbed his stomach and told him what a bright light he had been in our life. That night at bedtime, I found Sophie on his bed with him (see photo above). She was saying goodbye. Monday morning before he went to the vet, I sat next to his bed and stroked his head. I put his leash on him and he made one last visit to his favorite tree…he was struggling to get there and it broke my heart.

So on a blue blanket in waiting room one at Nichols Hills Vet Clinic, I held Bo as he quietly went to sleep. In a crazy way, I had a sense of peace that everything was OK because the words of my wise 8 year old rang in my head: “We have had a good life with Bo and now he’s going to be with God, Mom and Dog Heaven is amazing. I bet he can eat all the Krispy Kreme’s he wants!”

Eat up, sweet Bo.