*kendraspondence*

It occurred to me recently that teachers deserve a little more grace.

When you think about the teachers who Ruined it For You, as in the teacher who ruined Beowulf for you due to his arrogant meanderings around his dissertation on this very tome NOT THAT I EVER SUFFERED AT THE HANDS OF AN HONORS BRIT LIT TEACHER OF THIS ILK, think if you ever gave them a chance to redeem themselves.

Did you? Did you tell them, Wow, you totally threw Beowulf under the bus for me, but Shakespearean love sonnets? Those weren’t half bad.

The point is that teachers only get you for a year, or maybe a semester. Not like your parents who generally get a lifetime of opportunities. Your teachers can make you feel like molten shoe leather. And then you not only despise them, but you despise their material. They don’t get a second shot. But your parents can disparage you, demoralize you, disown you for a temporary spell. But then later they can totally become this awesome force of life in your and your daughter’s world and entire biographical chapters of ill will are erased.

I’m trying so hard, friends. I’m trying so hard to be a sensitive teacher. I’m fixing my mind on the things I will say and the things I will govern myself from saying, remembering that these students are only 19. They are someone’s daughter. They are someone’s son. I am totally frustrated at times and so…just not comprehending how my students cannot complete a reading assignment that took me 15 minutes this morning to read and annotate!?!

But I only get them for a semester. They are only a temporary audience to me, but the way I make them feel about themselves and the way I make them feel about English Composition can last, well, pretty much forever, right?

And that is the burden that I now know every instructor carries. It is a heavy one, and now it is mine.

***

First grade. 1985.

Baby Girl has been rocking the bright colors, but in the manner of her mother circa 1984 when I’m convinced there were no accent colors. Only bright colors worn together, being bold, trying to best one another.

I wish I had some pictures of the hawt pink and purple numbers I used to rock, or the blue stir-up pants coupled with the too-big sweatshirts with the McKids tags on the seam. Totally rad.

But all I have are the inspired fashions of Baby Girl. Girls just want to have fun.

Don’t deny her this electric youth.

Because baby, she was born to run.

1.) I have a Dora the Explorer toothbrush. It is not one that I bought thinking that Baby Girl would use it. I bought it for myself.

2.) I am big into reading books to kids and a huge victory for me is seeing my child sitting for long whiles “reading” her picture books.

3.) I do not feel even one iota of relief when I drop my daughter off at daycare. It has been 3 weeks and I am still weighted with guilt, plagued with fear, and it is all I can do not to keep myself from rushing back in I’LL SAVE YOU, BABY GIRL!!! COME TEACH ENGLISH COMP WITH ME!!!

4.) I do find myself reacting to certain of Baby Girl’s behaviors in the same way my mother reacted to mine. It is frightening, but inevitable I feel.

5.) When I put my daughter in “The Naughty Spot” which is the bottom step of a staircase in the hallway, I tell her sternly why she is sitting there. She thinks the whole concept and particularly my face and tone of voice are absolutely hilarious.

6.) I have grown to like Tubby Time. It used to be punishment, but my mother-in-law caused Baby Girl to appreciate her tubbies, and I cannot thank her enough. My child is not only happier, but cleaner, too.

7.) I don’t mind changing diapers, getting up in the middle of the night, quieting Baby Girl in public, or countermanding tantrums. What I really do not like, though, is putting her to bed. She is a talented stall artist and I have no patience for it. On the nights when my husband works, I am mock-praying for Nanny 9-1-1 to come and take over.

8.) I became a less obsessive person as a mother. I think one has no choice. You can either choose to think about whether or not the girl at the gym was sneering at you because your yoga pants were circa 1992 or if she thinks you didn’t wipe down the treadmill after your work-out YOU TOTALLY DID, or you can go about your work-out because it is the most important 45 minutes of of your day.

9.) I make popcorn on the stove for dinner probably 5-6 nights/month. Sometimes it’s the only thing I have my wits about me to make after I put the Stall Artist to bed. I used to think it was sad, but now I think I like popcorn dinner.

10.) When I see extremely obese children that I presume are under the age of 6 or 7, my blood begins to boil and I think wildly about prosecuting the parents for child abuse. I understand why it happens, but it absolutely incenses me.

11.) Thoughts of adoption frequently gnaw at me.

12.) My kid occasionally eats candy. She can find and unwrap a Reese cup in a way that amazes.

13.) The best material gift my husband gave me as a mother is the toddler seat for my bike. It has been one of the most liberating and fun new toys ever, a gift that keeps on giving.

14.) I totally have a mom booty now and I try not to think about it or else I get depressed.

15.) I feel that becoming a mother has leveled the playing field with my husband a bit. Not that we compete against one another, but I think he respects my authority in the home more now and I can appreciate the success he has had in his career without feeling envious.

16.) I am not a gear parent. I am not into acquiring gear, toys, clothes, etc. I find it burdensome and overwhelming.

17.) I would like 4 children as long as they would be guaranteed to believe their mother is perfect and potty train themselves. Since those are not guarantees, I think 2 is more likely.

18.) I hope to live internationally when my children are school-aged.

19.) I believe the call of Proverbs to train up a child in the way that he should go so that he may not depart from it later in life. But again, I want a guarantee that all those sabbath school classes are going to make an imprint!! This is a huge struggle for my faith.

20.) Standing over my daughter’s crib at night when she is sleeping is one of the most profoundly awe-inspiring experiences that I cannot believe I get to behold it every day. I imagine it is like owning oceanfront property or being married to a massage therapist. The benefits of proximity are just mind-blowing, and one feels unspeakably fortunate to be able to experience this blessing every single day.

There may have been a time when another birthday paralyzed me with fear BUT I HAVEN’T SEEN A FABERGE EGG YET and I was plagued with jitters about all that I needed to accomplish WHAT IF I NEVER GET MY CHANCE TO BE ON ‘THE PRICE IS RIGHT’ before the next birthday.

But not so much anymore.

I got a hub. I got a kid. I got a mortgage. I got student debt.

I could let all that hold me back.

But my friends are too amazing to let that happen.

Which is why I’m pleased to report that this past weekend has been ab fab, and that, HEY kiddies, it’s never too late!

It’s never too late to strap your kid onto your bike and get jiggy with it!

It’s never too late to attend your first party at a home with a half-pipe and sit on the sidelines and yell GNARLY!! when the boarders wipe out.

It’s never too late to try and convince your BFF Stephy not to move to Provi after all. (Her daughter Fabiola is indeed made of sugar cookie dough, just in case you were wondering if she was actually edible).

And finally, it’s never too late to discover that the shirt you pulled out of the rag bag for the party was actually stained. Which you discover after you post pics of yourself on the interweb. Huzzah!

I threw myself a little playdate birthday party today and the theme was green. Green grapes, green popcorn, green cupcakes.

Fast forward to two minutes ago: Loverpants picks up something off the floor. Said he thought it was green play-dough.

We realized that during his phone conversation, while she was sitting barebottomed and reading “My First Potty” or some such classic tome, she had left a pile of green poop for our discovery later.

That being said, she did tinkle in the potty for the first time yesterday morning. Best birthday present ever.

***

I’m having a difficult transition from the stay-at-home life to the work-a-day life. I feel lonely most of the time. That delicious freedom is not, as it turns out, so delicious when you have too much of it — when you’re counting down the minutes until you can go scoop up Baby Girl. I celebrate this, though, because I was not always a person that craved being around people. I used to savor the solitude, warding off the minutes until I would have to answer my husband’s questions, ruing the person who would dare call my phone and interrupt my silence. Now, I prefer the noise of pitter patter feet in the hall, followed by the balloons and coffee mug and Curious George doll I know she is trying to haul in one trip. I prefer interruptions and company, I don’t mind the unmade bed, the toothpaste in the sink. I like people around, I love them love them LOVE them long time.

***

In this coming year of life, I really just want to live my life for God. I mean, nothing fancy or clever. Just live each day for Him. I want to answer that everything I do, I do it for God’s greater glory. Amen.