2011: A horrible year...and what I've learned

It seems like odd numbered years are bad years, at least for us. In 2001, for example, I nearly miscarried early in my pregnancy, and, at the same time, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. My husband was working in Greeley while I stayed home in Denver, confined to 23 hours a day bed rest. 2007 was a horrific year...between pickup trucks landing in our front yard, to men landing on our roof with our house surrounded by police, to a burglary, it was terrible.

2011, however, is the worst year yet, I think. Between all the deaths we've dealt with, financial troubles, and personal issues, I'm so glad this year is nearly over. Each time something else life-altering has happened, I think that the year can't worsen, and then it does. I have learned a great deal from this year, and while I wish I could change some parts, this year has truly molded me into a better person.

2011 has humbled me in numerous ways and made me grateful for all I have. Losing my mother in January made me rethink my life and all I take for granted. I can no longer call her and complain about something; now I have to figure out how to handle problems on my own. I spend time occasionally, thinking about my mother's life, and while I don't know everything about her, I do know what parts I want to emulate and what I want to do differently. In some ways, it feels like I have to stand independently now, on my own two feet, and at the same time, find my bearings. My mother was the anchor holding my family together, and now she's gone, we have to figure out how to be a family without her running interference between us. This is a difficult road.

Our other area of struggle, finances, continues to plague us. Bouncing checks is a costly venture, as we've discovered, so we're doing our best to watch what we spend. And frankly, there isn't much we need other than food, paying our bills, putting gas in our vehicles, and keeping our son in shoes. Being an aware and conscientious grocery shopper is a goal of mine, and I work hard to buy what's on sale and only what we need. Yesterday, I saved 68.00 at the market. We have been forced to consider what is wasteful spending...like Costco...and what is useful spending. We are also forced to look at our checkbook more than once every two months. Our financial struggles make us better and more astute people.

Work has been tough, but I am doing my best to persevere. I do a great deal of self talk, reminding myself that I became a teacher for the students. And while there are those students who try to suck the life out of their teachers, several of whom I seemed to have had in 2011, there are plenty of others who want to learn, to think, and to be better people. I remind myself to concentrate on those students, which allows me to find the motivation to go to school each day.

I now understand, better than I ever have before, the fragility of life. In a flash, my life could be over. I find it crucial to live a good life, to try new things--foods, places, people, in order to better experience life. I want my son to know how much I love him, and how proud I am of him. I want to work with my husband to have a wonderful marriage. I want to spend time with my father because I don't know how much time we have left. 2011 was personally one of the worst years of my life, but some good has come from those struggles, especially within me.

I am glad, though, there's only one day left.

A snowy Colorado day

It began last evening, a wet and sloppy snow. News stations had various reporters stationed around the city, giving reports about travel. The weatherman stood outside, while snow flaked straight down, giving us the forecast, either good news or grim, depending on today's plans. We woke to about seven inches on the ground which, for some people, isn't much snow, but it does cause inconveniences during the holiday season. As I watch the snow fly-sometimes hard, sometimes light-I reflect on my love/hate relationship with 'white gold.'

Moving to Colorado brought the promise of snow, a substance we really had never seen, at least not up close. It was so hot when we first arrived, I thought snow was never going to happen. We saw our first fall--Burbank didn't really have a fall. but there were some trees that had leaves that changed colors. And then came the morning when my mom woke me up, yelling, "It snowed! Get up! You have to see this!" I eventually realized that she too hated snow, and she was a native Coloradan, but for this one time, she tried hard to be excited for us.

My brother and I stumbled out of our warm beds and into some clothes (we didn't really have snow clothes or coats that were warm enough at the time) and our cowboy boots (totally inadequate footwear for snow, I found out), and ran outside. In that first moment, I had several realizations: it must be cold to snow, snow is wet, and cold and wet is a state I do not enjoy. We touched the snow, threw it around a bit, and then I was done! Finished! I went back inside where it was warm and dry. I think I was outside for a total of five minutes, but I knew from that experience I would never really love snow.

Don't get me wrong; snow is lovely. Peaceful. It can be fun. Sort of. But it's cold, wet, heavy. Shoveling is misery. It gets tracked all over the house, making a mess. Snow requires a number of clothes and appropriate footwear. When it melts, it makes a mess. Driving in it isn't bad until other drivers are out there. Then it can be scary and dangerous. So, really, I'm not a fan of snow.

On so many levels, I'm a Colorado gal--hiking, biking, going to the mountains, camping...all those things Coloradans like to do. But I become a California girl as soon as the snow piles up. I want to stay inside and avoid the snow as much as possible. I know shoveling is good exercise, but I avoid it until I absolutely have to do it. Snowy days make me miss my shorts and sandals. I like warm weather; I don't even mind when it's over 90. To listen to my husband and my son, both Colorado natives, when it's warm, it's miserable for them. They love the snow. In fact, they are out shoveling right now.

There are those who make the arguments about the need for water and snow equals water. I agree. I know we need the snow. I know we all want the magical white Christmas. And snow does make it feel like Christmas. However, snow makes me want to be on a beach, somewhere, anywhere, where it's at least 85 degrees. The perfect temperature.

The Happiest Season of All...

Christmas is about memories, forgiveness, love, family, and yet, it is also a time of waste. .

As I sit and look at our lovingly decorated, memory-filled tree, I focus on the angel my mother gave me nearly 20 years ago, the angel that has topped every tree I've ever had, and I think about the Christmases she wasted over the years. There were all those Christmases without my grandmother who still lived in California. My mom would be sad, and the holidays would be miserable. After my grandmother moved here, holidays improved until dementia robbed us again of my grandmother mentally, and death eventually robbed us of her physically. My mother was sad again, and holidays were difficult. I was robbed of the past two Christmas Eves with my parents as my mother refused to be here with my in-laws. Time wasted, opportunities I will never have again.

We waste time and energy on what we think is important, but are we fooling ourselves? Is Christmas about gifts or is it about love? Gifts don't always equal love; they can symbolize it, but they can't take the place of love. Traditions exist as ways to spend time with our loved ones. One tradition I will have to create for myself is baking Italian cookies. I remember my mother and grandmother spending what seemed like hours in the kitchen baking different kinds of cookies, talking, laughing, smoking, and drinking coffee while doing so. I remember the house infused with the smells of cookies baking, baked bread, and the heat from the oven in Southern California.

This first Christmas without my mother, I'm trying to remember the good Christmases and the fun traditions we had while focusing on what is important to my family. We've watched some of our favorite Christmas movies, listened to some of our favorite Christmas songs. We've made our fudge and plan a few more cookies and other delights. I'm planning our Christmas Eve feast of lasagna, gnocchi, antipasto and chocolate. We have some lights displays we want to see. I'm doing my best to try to value the time I have with those I love rather than waste it. We visited the Christkindl market for the first time.

My family is precious as is my time. During this season of excess and waste, I want to focus on what is immediate and valuable, creating new traditions, reveling in current traditions, and using my time wisely.

My son...the one who hates to study

Since my son was identified as "gifted," he's been in a "Challenge Class" that requires him to know advanced vocabulary. Additionally, he is supposed to actually know how to spell the advanced vocabulary he's given. He rarely knows which words he's supposed to study, and he fails nearly every vocabulary test he takes. But he shocked us completely when he came home yesterday and announced he'd signed up for the district spelling bee.

He looked so proud of himself when he told me in the car on the way home. That was probably the safest place for him because I had to pay attention to the road rather than look at him and ask, "Are you kidding me?" Instead, I mumbled some sort of encouraging-sounding word as I inwardly rolled my eyes.

My son hates to study. He calls homework "stupid" and "pointless," and I spend a great deal of time trying to convince him of the purpose of homework. However, he loves words and reading. His spelling skills are amazing, and most of the words I ask him to spell, he can. However, spelling bee words are different, more difficult, and some are even words I've never heard before.

I began grilling him the other day on words like "chickabiddy" and "isosceles." He didn't know how to spell them, but he came close. Knowing how capable he is where spelling is concerned, maybe the spelling bee is a good idea. I want him to explore his options and stretch himself. I don't want him living in fear of what he can or cannot do. I've spent my life fearing the unknown, fearing my own intellectual abilities. I want better for my son.

So next week begins his foray into the world of spelling bees as an alternate, and then January he will actually compete. And I will be behind him, cheering him on his way.
My son, the one who hates to study, now has words like "chickabiddy" and "jejune" to learn by next week. I suspect he has some devious plot hatched to cause me more wrinkles and gray hair as I fight him to learn his words. "Isosceles" and "perambulate" anyone? I started shooting words at home tonight like a rapid fire gun, only to find that he knows few of them. The first spelling bee is next week! There are a few words I don't even know, but a nine year old? Especially one who hates to study? I can't imagine the horror, the horror of the next week.

I love my son deeply, and I want him to try new things in school, like playing drums, acting, or anything that doesn't require even more homework. I don't think my face or hair can take the stress!