Certified

Okay, a funny story, and it is true.  You know I can't  make this stuff up.  I get one newspaper a week and I read it cover to cover.  I am always reading the Employment Opportunities section looking for ways to supplement our income.  I will usually answer quirky and interesting ads.  This week there was an opportunity to work with local folks who suffer from varying types of mental health issues.  Since I already work and volunteer with women who suffer from addictions and mental health issues, I figured this is something that I could do.  The ad was quirky in that it said the person applying must be a consumer of mental heath issues, whatever that means, and willing to run group activities.  After playing phone tag with the person in charge for a few hours (actually five phones calls made back and forth), I was finally able to speak with Ms. B.  We talked a bit about harried days and how calm is better (hmmmm . . . first clue that sumthin' was amiss).  I told her of my interest in running group sessions on a part-time basis and that the center was just a few miles from my home (I did say my home, not the home).  She allowed me to ask a few questions, which she answered calmly and then she offered this, "Do you understand that these groups are client led and the person who takes this job must have or have had mental health issues?"  I could not contain my laughter.  I replied, "My husband would testify to the fact that I do indeed have mental health issues, but I could not get a doctor to confirm it."  Well, we both just cracked up.  She said, still laughing, "Well, I am so sorry you don't have mental health issues!"   I said, "That is the first time anyone has ever said that to me.  Thank you . . . ?" And with that, the phone interview was over!

I want to hold your hand

My daughter just reminded me of a story from when she was in the fourth grade in public school in 1999.  That was a time when school budgets always had money for two class trips per year, per grade.  It was up to the teacher to decide what educational field trip they would take their class on.  It was a time when our tax dollars actually went to the betterment of the community by providing educational services that went toward education instead of toward building sports stadiums.  I am not bucking sports, just saying that educating our children's mind used to be more important than having a multi-million dollar football stadium.   Budget cuts never included cutting field trips.  2 years later we began homeschooling our children and taking them on field trips that knocked their socks off.  However, now I digress.   Chaperoning educational field trips was one of my great pleasures.  Not to brag, but I was just so good at it!  Teachers and other chaperons would marvel at how well behaved my group of students always were.  In fact, I used to be assigned the worst boys in the class.  Often, parents asked me how I managed!  I'd just smile, soaking up the attention.  So, 12 years later, here is my secret.  Before leaving the school building I would take the boys aside and say, "Boys, in my group there are no rules!  You are old enough to know how to behave.  If you do not act your age, that's fine with me, but, you will have to hold my hand for the rest of the day!  If you act like a child, I will treat you like a child."  All I had to do was wave my hand or hum "I want to hold your hand" and these little monsters stood up straight, opened doors for me, offered me their lunch, tucked in their shirts and generally behaved liked princes.  They treated my daughter like a princess and won me jealous glares from ragged chaperones and approving nods from school and museum staff.  It worked like a charm : )

The Bridge - Part III

I am delusional.  There is no other term for it (well, at least in this situation).  Every day that we have been "crossing our romantic and single lane bridge" we have spoken to at least one of our children and a few who aren't even ours!  Where is the peace and where is the solace when your kids have your cell phone numbers?  I'll tell you what, if there is a cell tower within 20 miles of where you are, then your kids will track you down.  I feel stalked.  No, better yet, I feel like Katniss from the Hunger Games, a book I have yet to read for lack of leisure time.   Questions on finances, class schedules, work schedules, book orders, thunder storms and shoes have been a asked, discussed and decided. Still other questions have yet to be addressed (red mustang for one) and are looming over our little ride on this bridge, just as a dark cloud looms over what was suppose to be a sunny trip.  I am not complaining really, it's just that I am surprised.  Actually, I love being needed - just not so much and not at the moment.  One moment, one long, slow ride over the bridge was what I was looking for.  I haven't even had a chance to miss anyone yet.  A short good-bye cry and two minutes later my cell phone buzzed and it has not stop buzzing yet.  Every time I think I may have the luxury to drop into a depression at having an empty nest, my cell phone buzzes.  The nest may be empty, but it is certainly not void of the presence of kids.  It seems to me that there is a detour sign up ahead.  The bridge is temporarily closed and the sweet sounds of the ocean waves crashing on the shore (which I am convinced is the sound of God breathing) and the sounds of my husband sleeping next me are mingled with the sight of a sign that says, "Bump In Road, Proceed With Caution".  I must close this post now, my cell phone is buzzing . . . 

The Bridge - Part II

What can Part II be? The boy is gone, the last of the Mohican's, the last one to pack up and say adios (he finally did learn some Spanish).  Our parenting days are limited now.  They are not a 24-7-365 thing anymore.  I'm not saying that my parenting days are done, just limited.  For instance, decisions on the red mustang (loud, fast, not so safe in the rain, cop-attracting, girl-attracting, distracting red mustang) allowed at school the first semester of college is still a parenting decision that needs to be made.  Actually, that decision was made, revisited, made again and guess what?  It is being revisited again!  We have tabled this conversation for the time being because we are in the middle of crossing another bridge.  This one is all about us.  Me and my husband.  It is about appreciating the quiet, the sound of the little dancing indians run off to hoot and holler somewhere else.  It is about waking up to a man who is, for today, just my husband and not the man who will negotiate the long and winding trail of parenting 24-7-365.  Today, we negotiate a different trail - over a bridge that brings us to a place of quiet.  The children (that’s what I call them when they are civilized), were quite surprised to find that immediately after the last brave took his tee-pee (hammock really – and a really cool one too) and left, so did we.  We traveled to Shenandoah National Park and hiked new trails.  On the way we stopped at Hershey Park just to get a free candy bar at Chocolate World.  We saw a bald eagle, some falcons, some hawks, a rattlesnake and a passive aggressive deer.  After the deer incident we drove to South Carolina.  As I sit and type this I see the ocean and hear the sound of the waves and my husband quietly snoring.  Both sounds rock my soul.  Today the bridge we cross, we cross hand-in-hand, sojourning our way along for a few weeks without restless natives.  The trail we blaze now is our own, on our own, over the bridge . . . and we proceed on.