Crisis Day
Ok, so we have all gotten use to the fact that I just cannot simply keep this thing updated. Sorry. Those of you who are able to keep us reading day after day, my hat's off to ya!
Anyway, I was looking back at the last time I really posted. Not just sending you whatever the latest musician that I want on my playlist. It's been awhile.... A long while.
The new position while going well, is hectic. I have to find a system that works for me. It usually takes me awhile. I'll get there... someday.
So, what has my life included, other than work, lately? Still hanging out with the same ol' bunch. The kids are now cheering and playing basketball, so we're on the go as always. I love it though. I am one of those people who would love for them to do more than they do, but given our jobs, it makes it difficult. It seems like my childhood always involved a gym or a field. We played sports year round. I regret that my children will not have those same opportunities. I think Ethan was 6 when I realized that kids where I am from had been playing football for 2 years already. Ethan was still 2 years from being eligible. Oh well. He probably would not have wanted to play anyway.
Ethan has grown so much this past year. I use to joke and say that he would be bigger than me before he got out of elementary school. Now it looks like he really will. We went to purchase tennis shoes the other day. With him wearing an 11 in mens, his foot is bigger than mine, as big as his dad's and almost as big as his ego. I have decided to take sometime off next month. I had to take what I called a "crisis day" when I worked at Cardinal Hill. This was to just to deal with the fact, Ethan was starting Kindergarten. I thought that there was absolutely no way he could go to school. He was my baby, him? go to school? Uh-huh! He couldn't ! What if the other kids picked on him? What if he didn't like his teacher? What if she didn't like him? These thoughts only got worse, until I realized that A.) he was growing up. B.) He was bigger than the other kids. C.) He and I both agreed, he had an awesome teacher. Oh yeah, and D.) He went to the school that my mother-in-law worked for, so I knew he was in good hands. All this accumulated in my first day off from Cardinal Hill. My Crisis Day. I think every mother should have these in an infinite supply. These are the days that at the time, you truly feel like the world will stop if you are not there at that exact moment, only to realize how silly it all was later. Ethan's first day of school was my first Crisis Day. Delaney's was my second. I have decided to use several for next month.
I do not feel old most of the time. I don't necessarily feel like a teenager anymore, but I am kinda glad for that. But by no means, do I feel like I have even begun the descent into middle age. Hell, I am still in my twenties. That can't be old, can it? Only it can. This past year, marked my 10 years out of high school. Beside the old usual " What have I done with my life" 's, I felt like I had done pretty well for myself. Despite the fact that it took me 10 years to get there. But I digress.
I planned for next month. I planned for the Crisis to hit. I planned to start feeling old. But like everything else in my life, it seemed to happen before I planned it. I began the other night, the questions. Interrogating ones self is never a good thing. Ethan turns 10. It seems absolutely impossible. He is growing up so fast. While others have been through this before me, this time it's different. You see, this is my child. Thus, the Crisis has begun.
As long as I could remember I couldn't wait to turn 10. Most kids wanted to be a teenager. We would play imaginary games, I was always 10. Why 10? Blame my family. I do. My grandmother's aunt, my wonderful Aunt Ollie, in particular. Either you know Aunt Ollie or you don't, but she cannot be described, she simply was. On the day I was born my Aunt Ollie wrote me a letter, mind you in 1978, I wasn't real concerned about the letter. She sealed it in an envelope and put it atop a wrapped gift. There was only one condition, it could not be opened until my 10th birthday. Why 10? Who knows. Years later, I asked Aunt Ollie, she said 10 was a good number. So there, the only explanation that I have. I remember trying to investigate one Christmas. I wanted to know if there really was a Santa or were all those presents in the back of mom's closet really for me. As I balanced on several books, that were placed on a milk crate, that was on top of a chair ( you wonder why I broke bones), I managed barely touch something on the top shelf with my fingers. While standing on tip toes, I lost my balance only to catch my self holding the shelf while the chair and other objects tumbled backwards. While dangling, and screaming, my father came running to find out what was wrong with me. About the time he entered the room, I lost my grip and fell to the ground, along with what appeared to a wonderfully wrapped birthday present.
That was when I was told I had to be 10 to open it. Years of trying to figure out a way to open the letter without anyone knowing. Came real close once, conscious got the better of me. On my tenth birthday, it was the only present I wanted to open. I read and re-read the letter, that talked of all hopes as to what I was to become. But the gift... ahh the gift. There in the old yellowed jewelry box, was the first pearl necklace that she ever owned. She talked to me later about everyone coming out of the Depression, and finally feeling that she had a little money.
I regret my son and daughter will miss out on such moments. I am fairly certain that family items passed down means so much less to them, than they do to me.
Crisis day will bring about several things. Mostly, my oldest child is growing up, and the next few years will only go more quickly; the realization that I am getting old; as well as realizing that my children will never know my Aunt Ollie or my Grandmother. They both thought the moon rose and set on Ethan. Ethan was 15 months old when Granny passed away and 4 when Aunt Ollie passed away.
In today's world of technology, with computer games and x-boxes and wii's, for my son's birthday, maybe I'll just write him a letter.
Anyway, I was looking back at the last time I really posted. Not just sending you whatever the latest musician that I want on my playlist. It's been awhile.... A long while.
The new position while going well, is hectic. I have to find a system that works for me. It usually takes me awhile. I'll get there... someday.
So, what has my life included, other than work, lately? Still hanging out with the same ol' bunch. The kids are now cheering and playing basketball, so we're on the go as always. I love it though. I am one of those people who would love for them to do more than they do, but given our jobs, it makes it difficult. It seems like my childhood always involved a gym or a field. We played sports year round. I regret that my children will not have those same opportunities. I think Ethan was 6 when I realized that kids where I am from had been playing football for 2 years already. Ethan was still 2 years from being eligible. Oh well. He probably would not have wanted to play anyway.
Ethan has grown so much this past year. I use to joke and say that he would be bigger than me before he got out of elementary school. Now it looks like he really will. We went to purchase tennis shoes the other day. With him wearing an 11 in mens, his foot is bigger than mine, as big as his dad's and almost as big as his ego. I have decided to take sometime off next month. I had to take what I called a "crisis day" when I worked at Cardinal Hill. This was to just to deal with the fact, Ethan was starting Kindergarten. I thought that there was absolutely no way he could go to school. He was my baby, him? go to school? Uh-huh! He couldn't ! What if the other kids picked on him? What if he didn't like his teacher? What if she didn't like him? These thoughts only got worse, until I realized that A.) he was growing up. B.) He was bigger than the other kids. C.) He and I both agreed, he had an awesome teacher. Oh yeah, and D.) He went to the school that my mother-in-law worked for, so I knew he was in good hands. All this accumulated in my first day off from Cardinal Hill. My Crisis Day. I think every mother should have these in an infinite supply. These are the days that at the time, you truly feel like the world will stop if you are not there at that exact moment, only to realize how silly it all was later. Ethan's first day of school was my first Crisis Day. Delaney's was my second. I have decided to use several for next month.
I do not feel old most of the time. I don't necessarily feel like a teenager anymore, but I am kinda glad for that. But by no means, do I feel like I have even begun the descent into middle age. Hell, I am still in my twenties. That can't be old, can it? Only it can. This past year, marked my 10 years out of high school. Beside the old usual " What have I done with my life" 's, I felt like I had done pretty well for myself. Despite the fact that it took me 10 years to get there. But I digress.
I planned for next month. I planned for the Crisis to hit. I planned to start feeling old. But like everything else in my life, it seemed to happen before I planned it. I began the other night, the questions. Interrogating ones self is never a good thing. Ethan turns 10. It seems absolutely impossible. He is growing up so fast. While others have been through this before me, this time it's different. You see, this is my child. Thus, the Crisis has begun.
As long as I could remember I couldn't wait to turn 10. Most kids wanted to be a teenager. We would play imaginary games, I was always 10. Why 10? Blame my family. I do. My grandmother's aunt, my wonderful Aunt Ollie, in particular. Either you know Aunt Ollie or you don't, but she cannot be described, she simply was. On the day I was born my Aunt Ollie wrote me a letter, mind you in 1978, I wasn't real concerned about the letter. She sealed it in an envelope and put it atop a wrapped gift. There was only one condition, it could not be opened until my 10th birthday. Why 10? Who knows. Years later, I asked Aunt Ollie, she said 10 was a good number. So there, the only explanation that I have. I remember trying to investigate one Christmas. I wanted to know if there really was a Santa or were all those presents in the back of mom's closet really for me. As I balanced on several books, that were placed on a milk crate, that was on top of a chair ( you wonder why I broke bones), I managed barely touch something on the top shelf with my fingers. While standing on tip toes, I lost my balance only to catch my self holding the shelf while the chair and other objects tumbled backwards. While dangling, and screaming, my father came running to find out what was wrong with me. About the time he entered the room, I lost my grip and fell to the ground, along with what appeared to a wonderfully wrapped birthday present.
That was when I was told I had to be 10 to open it. Years of trying to figure out a way to open the letter without anyone knowing. Came real close once, conscious got the better of me. On my tenth birthday, it was the only present I wanted to open. I read and re-read the letter, that talked of all hopes as to what I was to become. But the gift... ahh the gift. There in the old yellowed jewelry box, was the first pearl necklace that she ever owned. She talked to me later about everyone coming out of the Depression, and finally feeling that she had a little money.
I regret my son and daughter will miss out on such moments. I am fairly certain that family items passed down means so much less to them, than they do to me.
Crisis day will bring about several things. Mostly, my oldest child is growing up, and the next few years will only go more quickly; the realization that I am getting old; as well as realizing that my children will never know my Aunt Ollie or my Grandmother. They both thought the moon rose and set on Ethan. Ethan was 15 months old when Granny passed away and 4 when Aunt Ollie passed away.
In today's world of technology, with computer games and x-boxes and wii's, for my son's birthday, maybe I'll just write him a letter.
posted by Tina at
Thursday, January 25, 2007
1 Comments:
Thanks for coming back to us, and for doing so with a vengeance!
Absolutely wonderful post... and I know what you mean. It just doesn't seem like family heirlooms mean what they used to. I like the idea of writing a letter to your child for their birthday.
But who am I to talk... I love my Wii!
By
Cory, at 6:34 AM
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