Dear Journal,

So often, I forget that you're here and that you are a medium for me to sort things out. I forget that I don't have to always have someONE to bounce ideas off of, that I am capable of determining a path, and sticking to it. I forget that, sometimes, it just helps to write it all down.

Journal, Diary... You've gone by several names over the years. And even though I am inconsistent in my visits, I always come back to you. You are quite loyal to stick around, but you're always there when I need you.

And, here we are again. I am at a crossroads. A parenting crossroads; I do not know which route to take. I know this is only the beginning of many, many times I will run in to a situation that requires and desires contemplation. And I know I will ultimately zero in on the best plan for myself and my family. But for now, I am ensnared by this decision.

I know what I want, but that is not happening. I know what I was told, but I am dissatisfied with that answer. Therefore, I am trying to make peace with the two, and there are several directions for that to take. Needless to say, I am an oscillating queen, right now, waffling back and forth between the routes, turning from one direction to the next, and wondering how to start the process for any of them.

Journal, which do I choose? And regardless of the peace I make with my choice, how do I start? How do I begin that path? I know. Begin first with a step. Find my balance. Put the other foot in front. Find my balance. Repeat as necessary.

And believe me when I say I am fully aware that I am not special. I know women have been making these decisions for generations. But I am special in that this is MY decision. Steve is wonderful and is supporting me, with whichever direction I choose, but it is mine to make.

I don't think this would be as difficult if I knew we were having more children. But even if we wanted more, we can't, so it is truly the end of the line for me, which compounds the choice. But, I will take my time, weigh my options, and determine my best route. I will put my foot forward. And find my balance. And I will move forward.

Regardless of my decision, Journal, thank you for sitting here, patiently, waiting for me to return to you with another dilemma. We'll chat soon.

It's Been A While

But I promise you I haven't forgotten you.

We've been quite busy the first month of summer vacation:

1. Swim lessons


2. Foreign exchange intern from France


3. AP conference in Richmond


4. That whole "reorganize, reclaiming" of the house (whew!)


5. and a few play dates sprinkled here and there


6. in addition to numerous other things - some fun, some awesome, some not so much

But regardless, I plan to (key word: PLAN) to download the camera this week and catch up on everything. In the meantime, Syd's healthy and happy, so all's good in the world.

Boy Mom

Whenever friends have their first child, and as I awaited my bundle of joy, I hear on a consistent basis things like: "You'd be such a good Boy Mom!" or "I can see you being a Girl Mom!" I was told that I would be good with either.

I would smile, say thank you, glow in prenatal joy, then turn away completely confused. Yes, boys and girls are different, but are they really THAT different? It is only now, after my son has grown some (now 21 months) and is walking, talking, climbing, running, jumping, throwing, etc., and only after I've heard from all my girlfriends who had girls first, that I think I may understand the difference between a Boy Mom and a Girl Mom.

There are always extenuating circumstances regarding stages of development, so it's not only difficult to compare, especially when you don't have a child of the opposite gender, but it's also a touchy subject between parents. No one wants to be the Comparing Mom, but you can't help but wonder sometimes...

Regardless, even without having a girl, I can look at Sydney every once in a while and say "Whoa - that is SUCH a Boy thing to do!" And even more so, whether it's good or bad, I can take a step back at look at myself and think I've really grown as a parent - not because of what I'm good at or my skill in handling situations - that's all still a work in progress and will be for the next...30 years... But because of what I've grown to allow - I used to be very Monk-like - you know, the tv show about the extremely persnickety person who can't have one grain of dust out of order...

Not anymore. For example, yesterday, I was making dinner, balancing on one foot while Sydney swung around the other, trying to play catch with my right leg, that I kept raising up over his head. Once I got the chicken in the oven, we were bouncing balls all over the place in the kitchen while I attempted to get the green beans going. After dinner, while the chicken platter soaked and we waited for Daddy to finish chores downstairs, we discovered that dropping two bouncy balls, one sitting on the other, at the same time, the top ball would bounce twice as high, since the bottom ball was, essentially, the point of impact and was made of rubber. The ball bounced into the chicken dish several times, and each time, I simply washed it off and handed it right back to Syd. I never would have stood for that before becoming a mom - boy or girl.

I don't know if this has anything at all to do with Boy Mom or Girl Mom. I don't have a girl, so I cannot possibly know what I would do differently if I did. All I know is that we play. Hard. Constantly. And I am becoming a better person for not worrying about every crumb, dust bunny, pile of books and balls and trucks in my house. But I am curious about the difference. What do you think? Do you have boys, girls, or both? By all means - share the stories and help shed some light for me and any other confused Mom out there!! In the meantime, bring on the Boys!

Sidelined

Ugh. Summer colds. 'Nuff said.

Happy 35th!

My dearest husband,
Thank you for being my partner in this crazy world. Thank you for doing the laundry when I'm so swamped with grading and SoL prep that I can't even remember if I've eaten. Thank you for giving me such a beautiful baby boy who has brought so much joy to our lives. Thank you for giving me space when I need to relax and disengage from life, in general, and for always being there when I need to come back. Thank you for running errands for me when I haven't had a chance to get to the store and for taking over at 2 in the morning when I just can't rock any more. Thank you for helping me attempt to keep some sort of order to our house when the Tasmanian devil that is two and a half feet high breaks loose. Thank you for everything you do, and everything you say, and for always letting me put my cold feet on you at night.

Happy Birthday, Steve! I love you.

Dionne

Summer Plans Revisited

I've mentioned, some, that I have a laundry list (including keeping up with the laundry!) for the summer. One major item on my list is (drum roll, please) finding my *perfect* burger.

I had a few odd cravings when I was pregnant. The first trimester, when I was at the height of my coaching, outside, long hours, in wind and sun, was chunky orange juice - such chunky pulpy deliciousness that I had to chew it on the way down. Later in my pregnancy, I had a penchant for kalamata olives. Prior to pregnancy, I'd never been a huge olive person, but something about the brininess was just...perfect.

I never had real cravings. I had a ravenous stomach and a mind open to suggestion - so much so that even Homer Simpson eating spaghetti made me want some with meatballs. But I did have one craving that hasn't gone away, and that is for the *perfect* burger.

I'm driving everyone I know crazy with this yen for my *perfect* burger. I don't want anything cooked on a griddle. It has to be grilled. It cannot be a pre-packaged, perfectly round or square slab of meat. It needs to be hand-pressed so it is thick enough to retain juices. The mix of condiments and toppings has to be just right so the heat of the meat contrasts with the crisp, coolness of the tomato and lettuce; And I'd really like it with avocado, but I'll take just a plain burger with lettuce, tomato, ketchup, and mayo, if I can get it.

I've tried...7 places in our area. None of them have it. Of those 7, 5 were recommended to me as the *best* burgers in the area. I don't want the best in the area. I want MY PERFECT burger. There is one more place I've heard of, but when Steve drove all the way there (it is apparently quite a distance from us, but in the same area...) he didn't have cash on him, and they do not take credit cards. I'm holding out a sincere hope that we can get there within the next week.

The Irish pub we tried today at our department lunch was good. But mine was dry. I only asked for medium well, which should have put a nice char on the outside without drying out the meat. Don't get me wrong - it was good. But it wasn't that for which I am yearning. And I was really hopeful, since this particular pub's food is truly satisfying. They have a pecan crusted salmon that is absolutely delectable.

If any of you know of a place that has THE burger, please please PLEASE let me know so I can put this search to rest.

Oh, and graduation was today, so I now have 2 months to dedicate to this search!! :-) Yay!

The Summer is Upon Us

The end of this frustrating, frantic, incessant year is finally near. For the first time in my teaching career, every student of mine passed both SoLs. Whether or not that is because I'm coming in to my own (dubious) remains to be seen.

But with the end of this year comes a summer of...time. Opportunity. A chance to ensure that I've made a difference in Syd's life as well as plan for the future - professionally and personally. And boy, do I have a laundry list of what I propose to do with my time.

The first few years I taught in the public school system, I half-heartily attempted to get a summer job. I say half-heartily because I was coaching and teaching at the end of the year - 12+ (sometimes 2 day) hour track meets, SoLs, exam approval, exams, traveling with athletes, cleaning out my classroom - yeah, I had time to look for a summer job. And all the college kids who were done in May beat me to them.

But the past two years, I've seen how actually planning out what I feel I have to do, developing a calendar, and marking what I've accomplished actually makes me realize how much I HAVE done over the summer months. And now, with a toddler at home and finally finally FINALLY feeling like I belong in academia at a high school level (doesn't mean I feel prepared, mind you...), I am relishing the idea of time off to accomplish everything I have been putting off for 6+ months. Sydney is older, now, too, which means I actually get to put him physically down for naps (nursing nightmare, and not on his part - neurotransmitters released in me made me extremely sleepy every time he nursed, which means that we both fell asleep...for hours...). I may, in fact, get more accomplished this summer than ever before!

Last year, the summer flew by, but that is, in part, because I kept track of everything I did each day and monitored what I wanted to accomplish and what I was willing to let slide. This year, my list is even longer. I hope I have the fortitude, now that I have more sleep (not much, though) and time, to get at least 3/4 of my list done. I'll keep you posted on my progress.

But one thing I really want to do is to start writing a - what is it...not really a biography, not a novel (I tend to perceive novels as fiction, though that's not accurate), a tangible documentary? of my struggles with my health, which have increased ten-fold since the hormones of having a child hit me. Not for everyone, but definitely something I feel I need to record for anyone else who may be experiencing the same thing.

Regardless, I am looking forward to spending time with my son, to learning Italian with him, and to seeing him experience the world. And I am also looking forward to cleaning, de-bulking, and organizing my home, in hopes that it will run decently in the fall, when the next slam of deadlines and obstacles hits us all.