My Little Monster

It has come to my attention that my sweet, competitive, ten-year-old daughter is a complete monster. She worked on me with all of the skill of a corps of diplomats to create a blog for her. I made the stipulation that she must write at least five (count 'em FIVE) stories before she could even consider asking me again. She worked like an obsessed crack addict looking for her next fix. She had them whipped out in two days. Next my adorable, conspiring, little sneak unassumingly asked about a site meter for her blog. Not realizing where this was headed, I put one on her blog site. Now this beautiful, faerie-faced blond has the gaul to keep asking me How many hits do you have... or Gee, look at my numbers on my site meter, Mom... It is a race!!!

In actuality, Jenna is a jewel. Her creative genius leaps off the screen when you read her stories. It is amazing insight to how a young girl processes thoughts. I am very honored she is mimicking me at this point in her life. I know those days are coming to a close. Her writing skills are fast developing and I know her teachers struggle. She is so bright; she must be a real challenge to keep busy in the classroom. So check out her blog at www.kermit-froggie-girl.blogspot.com to see the world through the eyes of a future, best-selling author.

Oh, and by the way, Jenna, we now have five stories-a-piece. You better write another one!! HAHA!

Ty, My Son

Tyler Shane was born into the world on a hot day in June in 1991. I just knew from birth, that this little boy was destined for great things. His little 7 pound 8 ounce body was so precious. I broke down in tears at the incredible joy of his arrival. The pediatrician that examined him at birth devastated us with news that Tyler had a hole in one of his heart ventricles. Jeff and I were petrified, but a week later his heart had miraculously finished developing and he was proclaimed perfect by the same doctor.

Even at birth this little boy took us from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows and back to the highs again and has been doing it ever since.

Ty hardly spoke when he was little. He would just point to whatever he wanted and get his point across. He played by himself and a few hot wheels and all you would hear for hours was "Vroom...vroom". He was never demanding. He was a very easy child as a baby and a toddler.

When Ty hit kindergarten, I became aware of this incredible gift that Tyler has. He was packing up his favored "Power Rangers" and "Tonka trucks" in his backpack for Show and Tell.

I asked him,"Ty, what are you doing?...You know you are only allowed one toy for Show and Tell."

Tyler was "dutchy" when little and always used the least amount of words possible.
"I take extras for other kids, ...They don't have toys...I share mine." he said.

I promise you, I had always known he was special, but that conversation confirmed it. A five year old, who would willingly give up his coveted toys, showed me an incredible amount of compassion and a spirit of giving that surpassed my own and many adults.

That same five-year-old child made me see red when he came home from school one day with this whopper of a tale about some 6th grader pushing him down on the playground. I marched down to the elementary school with righteous indignation ready to do battle with principal (poor Bob Harris), teacher, parents, and one very soon-to-be-sorry 6th grader. Upon finding out he was lying, I forced out apologies and was mortified that I had helped create this storyteller who was fabricating lies. (Please note that this was the year Jenna was born and I believe someone (Ty) was wanting a little attention).

Earlier this year, a mother was never prouder, as my son accepted his Eagle in Boy Scouts after years of hard work and dedication put forth by Tyler and his Dad. Ty has many friends and his peers tend to gravitate to him, because he is so quiet and unassuming.

Currently, I am feeling sorry for myself in a situation with my son. After spending two hours in Parent-Teacher conferences last night and a very sleepless, frustrated night, I came to the realization that this must be how God feels when he deals with me. I am my son's advocate....I am his teacher...and now I must be his authority and his taskmaster. Tyler is not doing well in school and it is my responsibility to push him to do what he needs to do. Again, with the highs and lows and then highs.

Our final meet last night was with one of Ty's teachers that identifies with Ty's talents and specialness. She really gave me the hope I needed after recieving several reports of how poorly Ty was doing. While I don't look forward to being the "bad guy" and I am very weary (this has been going on for many years during his education), I refuse to give up on him. Do I believe he is still special and destined for great things............most definitely YES!!!

To Right A Wrong

I visited with my sister, Lori, on the phone tonight. I called to make her laugh. I was hiding out in the garage while my 10-year-old daughter was wailing on the trumpet. This is her first year in 5th grade band and she is doing great. However, my nerves are a little raw. We chuckled over life’s challenges.
I asked her how her day went and she shared with me about some new volunteer work she was doing. My sister is an attorney for a worker’s compensation company that determines rates all over the United States. In her spare time (which is actually very limited during certain months of the year) she is assisting children as a guardian ad litem. I asked her what this meant, and she explained that she represents abused or neglected children in the court system. Our conversation actually had a ten second pause….
For you see, our childhood was not an easy childhood. I am sure everyone has horror stories about growing up. This writing is not to share all the gory details of a marriage that ended nightmarishly with three children used as pawns in a war between a mother and father. To shorten a three year long process: there were three custody court cases, two separate reports involving teenage runaways, warrants out for pick-up, breaking and entering, as well as physical, emotional, and mental abuse. There were no innocent parties……..it was war with all its brutalities and despair.
To actually believe my sister would want to be close to a courtroom involving child custody was unfathomable.
Lori couldn’t share specific details of the case she was involved in, but she did give me an overall rundown in generalities of the fact that she was trying to look out for the best interests of the child.
When I asked her how she could be involved with such a situation that brings up all the horrors of the past, she said, “Sheri, (I am) reliving the past…but in a way that is right. These children actually have a voice. I am actively involved in making sure things go well.” It moved my entire spirit which sang with pureness of what she was doing. She is determined “To Right A Wrong”.
Lori,
To you personally: You are my hero…fighting injustices and standing up for those unable to represent themselves. You inspire me to be a better person and I love you with all my heart.

Running

In a semiconscious state, I dress for the occasion…shorts, shirt, socks, and shoes. Priorities dictate brushing my teeth and a swig of water to quench my thirst before I head out the door. I grab my IPod, as the sleep build-up in my eyes is drowsily brushed away. My muscles protest as I stretch. The walking begins and my heart immediately starts pumping in anticipation. I have done this long enough that my body foresees the miles ahead. The steady cadence of the Air-Pegasus Nikes pounds the pavement to match the AC/DC wake-up call. “Back in Black” screams out the headphones as I convince myself this is really happening. I start to notice the early morning sky with the winking stars as my guide. No one is moving in my little sleepy town. Most of its inhabitants are still nestled in their beds. I make the trek out to the park. Some mornings I even catch a raccoon trying to finish off his late night scavenger hunt in the park for any goodies left. Having planned my course, my midway point is designated as the flagpole in a strategic location. I concentrate on form and breathing. My goal is to better my time and endurance with each run as I run against myself. My emergency motivation song “Eye of the Tiger” is set for if I falter. The hill coming up out of the park has been knick-named “Heartbreak Hill” after the Boston Marathon for a reason. Reaching the top of is a thrill. My mantra matching my pace is "I will never give up". Running with sweat dripping in my eyes and down my back, it truly feels like poisons are being released with each step. Rounding the corner, towards the house, my IPod reveals the countdown for the last 400 meters. Home is in sight. Relief is in sight. Pride swells. I have done it again. Lance Armstrong congratulates me on a new personal best in the 5km. My day begins….