I've Got to Hand it to You

 

 

Sometimes I get impatient.  With my hands. 
My fingers grow older.  More knobby.  More stiff.

I'd like them to work the same as they always have.

But one or two won't quite bend the same as before.

Sometimes they ache and feel tight. 

That irritates me.  They've always done what I wanted them to.

Not anymore. 

Now they demand attention.

I guess that's only fair. 

They've never complained, all these years.

Sewing.  Darning.  Crafting.

Writing.  I mean the old-fashioned kind where you actually hold a pen or pencil

 in your hand -

 letters, Christmas cards, notes for class at school, chalkboards full of lessons,

love notes,

lunchbox notes to little boys, 

grading papers and filling out report cards.

Cooking...stirring, peeling, grating, cutting.

Cleaning. Ugh.

Scrubbing, washing, rinsing, polishing.

Painting walls, pulling off wallpaper,

planting flowers and pulling weeds.

Grasping ski poles for dear life.

 

So, thank you, old hands. 
You've worked hard. 

You still haven't given out on me.

Thank you

for caressing soft sweet faces and

little fingers and toes,

for cradling and cuddling,

for smearing finger paint, pounding play dough,

and building sheet tents,

for holding hands with the same guy

for 37 years,

for decorating home-made birthday cakes,

for wiping tears, noses, baby bottoms,

for clapping, snapping, finger playing,

and

piano plunking.

 

You've  held up pretty well.

You've given me great joy.

 Thanks for hanging in there,

knots, aches, and all.

You're the best...

hands down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Please Pass the Tissue!

I've been back in Kindergarten two years now.

 Here's some very important things I've learned.

The more I'm around five-year olds, 

the more I act like a five-year old.

If you offer a candy treat as incentive, that parent form

you thought you'd never get back -

filled out and signed,

will miraculously show up the very next morning.

Fifi the French puppet might be shy,

but she can make even the

quietest in the class talk.

When you tell your class you'll be attending

several days of teacher classes,

they just don't get it's not because 

you're not smart enough to already be a teacher.

No matter how many times you repeat it.

     

If you're not a morning person,

and you teach kinders, 

you keep telling yourself you can surely

learn to like coffee!

A brand new box of crayons

is still just as special as it was 

45 years ago. 

If you call your class a family,

you'll have to be Mom

more times than you wish.

And you won't get to be Mom

as many times as you'd like.

Whoever invented the term, brain break...

genius! 

If you're going to have to trust your babies to a sub,

just know that she might show up with 

her two, BIG service dogs-in-training.

It changes the whole game plan.

Full Moon Phobia...it's real. 

Just because I said I wouldn't cry in front of them

on the last day of school,

doesn't mean it won't happen.

It helps to fake a cold all day.

Congratulations to my little 2013 Kinder graduates!

Teacher's feeling so proud today!     

        ~

    

   

        

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

It's been a good spring break.

I napped a little.

I read a little. 

I cleaned a little.

I Googled a little.

I danced a little.

I wrote a little.

I hung out with the best friend a little.

I cheered on a team a little.

I decorated a little.

I planned for my kinders a little.

I laughed a little.

I talked a little.

I played a little.

I organized a little.

I ate ice cream a little. 

But mostly I rested.

A lot.

I stayed up late a lot.

I watched Property Brothers a lot.

 I slept in a lot.

I thought about my kinders a lot.  

I Pinterested a lot.

 And I thought about summer.

A lot.

Now I'm ready.

Bring it, April and May.

Bring it, 7:55 final bell.

Bring it, sensible eating plan.

Bring it, regular sleep schedule.

 I ain't afraid.

I've seen a short glimpse of what May 16 brings.

It's a beautiful thing...    

 

 

  

 

        

He'll Be The First To Tell You

I've known my husband for thirty-seven years.

I've been married to him for thirty-one

of those years.

I've no doubt used lots of words over those years

to describe him.

I have a new word I've been using...

a lot.

Resilient.

You might not think of that as being 

anything special...

to be resilient.

But I do.

You might not even think there's any reason

why I should be telling you 

about his resiliency.

But there is.

I've learned a lot from him this past year and a half -

a year that he unabashedly will tell you

has not been easy.

He would say there were moments he mourned,

short-lived moments when he panicked,

and even a few bad days out of that year and a half,

when he saw that cup as empty.

 But that's about as far as he will go.

More likely he'll tell you how he prefers to 

see the cup as

half full.

Or that there's nothing he can do to change things,

so best to move on..full throttle.

He'll tell you that he believes in Someone

who he knows is in charge of his life

and trusts Him,

through the good and the bad.

 He will still laugh with you, 

laugh at you,

and laugh about you...

all the while bouncing back

minute by minute, day by day.

He will most assuredly prefer to deal with today

and then move on to tomorrow.
For his tomorrow brings hope...

a hope that is attainable and full of promise.

Because he's resilient.
And he's teaching me to be more like him.

God, help me to be more like him.

I love you, Sweetheart.

I am so proud to call you husband.
 

re·sil·ient   adj \ri-ˈzil-yənt

  

1.  springing back; rebounding.

2.  returning to the original form or position after being bent, compressed, or stretched.

3. recovering readily from illness, depression, adversity, or the like; buoyant.