White Christmas

We’ve had a new baby in our lives this past year, my beautiful granddaughter, Chloe, and I have noticed how her presence has managed to bring out the child in all of us.

Christmas Eve brought snow and a white Christmas to our home. Throughout the day we peered through the windows to assess snow accumulation and to see if the predicted changeover to rain would occur. With a winter wonderland surrounding us ,we all bundled up after dinner and ventured out in the white stuff. My husband found an old snow saucer out in the garage and attached a long rope to it. Miss Chloe was placed in her transport and we all ran following her as my husband towed her across the snow. Adult laughter rang out with the baby giggles. Even the dogs were running around behind the laughing humans.

Then my daughter decided it was time to make some snow angels. She grabbed Chloe off the snow saucer and showed her the art of creating snow angels. The girls rolled around in the snow while the boys decided to build some snowmen. My son and his dog opted to just run circles in the white fluff. And above all of this chaos, the laughter continued to ring.

Soon the girls joined in the snowman construction and my husband hurried into the house to gather carrots and other accessories for our newly built friends. By the time snow friend number one was completed, Miss Chloe’s little nose was red and cold, so the grandparents decided it was time to head into the house for some hot chocolate. It was about then that my almost thirty-year-old daughter said, “Mommy, we want to stay outside and finish our snowman.” Flashback! My adult daughter was my little girl once again. And the grin on my face was huge!

Hubby and I scooped up our new little bundle of joy and scurried into the house. I put a big pot on the stove for the hot chocolate and husband put a log in the fireplace to start a warm glow. With Miss Chloe in her slippers and toddling around the living room, we waited for our big babies to come inside.

That night, we all sat around the fireplace and laughed and joked about snow days, snowball battles, and winter. We were all young again. We had seen the winter weather’s miracle through a child’s eyes and it was a blast!

I plan this year to continue to look at life through a child’s eyes; to find pleasure in the simplest of things, and to laugh. I invite you to do the same. Happy New Year!

Where A Kid Can Be A Kid

We’ve had a new baby in our lives this past year, my beautiful granddaughter, Chloe, and I have noticed how her presence has managed to bring out the child in all of us.

With the family at home for the holidays, we planned a first birthday celebration for Chloe at Chuck E. Cheese, “where a kid can be a kid.” When I mentioned the party to my twenty-six year old son, he groaned “Really, mother. Do we have to?,” I knew that I had my work cut out for me.

But the work was not so difficult. We arrived at this fine dining establishment to be greeted by a cheerfully decorated table, complete with balloons and party accessories. What caught the eye of all of the big kids were the cups of tokens at each place setting. My son was the first to ask if he could take just a few and play some games. Soon the table was empty of guests. All of my adult babies had headed off to the skee ball lanes and the football toss.

My husband had scooped up Miss Chloe and had taken her off to ride some of the rides. Since I was all alone at the table, I grabbed a few tokens and headed off myself! Some time later, we all re-grouped at the table to gaze at the pile of prize tickets we had won. Of course, the boys were comparing whose pile was the biggest!

After munching on some pizza, we were visited by Mr. Cheese himself. Chloe was the most mesmerized by this special visit, but the adults enjoyed it just the same. We sang and danced, and clapped and laughed. We feasted on Sesame Street cupcakes and fruit punch before heading back to use the remaining tokens.

The party ended with the gift opening and some more singing and laughing. We gathered up all of the goods and headed out towards the exit, stopping only at the counter to exchange the pile of tickets for some Chloe toys. I hugged my little granddaughter and told her that I was very sorry that I could not celebrate with her in the Netherlands on her actual party. My son-in-law turned to me and said, “Oh, but this celebration was so much more fun!”

And then we left Chuck E. Cheese’s smiling and laughing, reliving a child’s birthday party and having a blast. There was a little kid in each one of us that afternoon…it is a place were even adults can be a kid.

I plan this year to continue to look at life through a child’s eyes; to find pleasure in the simplest of things, and to laugh. I invite you to do the same. Happy New Year!

I touch the Future

As we enter the month of Thanksgiving, I have been reflecting on events that have changed the course of my life. I was recently listening to the song “This by Darius Rucker. He sings about “every stoplight I didn't make, every chance I did or I didn't take,” all those things that could have happened but didn’t led him to where he is today. And he wouldn’t change a thing. That’s how I’ve been feeling.

When our daughter was born, my husband and I decided that I would stay at home with her so that one of us would be with her all of the time. So I began my life as a stay-at-home mom. I continued my stay-at-home duties when my son was born, and fell in love with my job as the teacher and care provider for my two young children. When they started “real” school, I followed them and became a classroom volunteer. I planned class parties, copied papers for teachers, put up bulletin boards, and sat in the cafeteria with my own children once a week for lunch. But just as I had vowed when I was in college I continued my belief that there was no way that I would ever become a teacher!

I shared school with my children at school and at home. When we sat at the table to do homework, we would talk about the other students in their classes and their teachers. It was great fun! I also volunteered with the Parent/Teacher association. I helped with fundraisers and organized events at the school. I enjoyed working with the teachers at my children’s school, but I knew that I would never become a teacher. I had vowed it would never happen.

But when my son entered middle school, he refused to allow me to be a parent volunteer. He said it wasn’t “cool.” So I began plotting. I know how he loved sports, so I told him that if he let me apply to be a substitute teacher at the middle school that I would buy Oriole season tickets with the money I made. He agreed and his agreeing changed my life.

About a year after I began substitute teaching, I received a telephone call from the foreign language curriculum specialist. She needed a long-term Spanish substitute and since I had a minor in Spanish, she wanted to know if I was interested. I discussed it with my husband and both children and we agreed to give it a try.

I fell in love with teaching! I woke up excited about going to work, and lay awake in bed at night trying to figure out new teaching strategies to help my students. I was playing school again, but this time the students were not my own children. That was in the spring of 1999 and I have been teaching ever since. I have grown professionally and as a human being. Being part of the lives of my students has given me a new outlook, and I do indeed touch the future.

Our mothers are our first teachers, and my children taught me that!

They Say That Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

As we enter the month of Thanksgiving, I have been reflecting on events that have changed the course of my life. I was recently listening to the song “This by Darius Rucker. He sings about “every stoplight I didn't make, every chance I did or I didn't take,” all those things that could have happened but didn’t led him to where he is today. And he wouldn’t change a thing. That’s how I’ve been feeling.

When I was a senior in high school, I met a college student named Mike. We dated my entire senior year and he was my date to the prom. He even came to Ocean City when my friends and I were there for senior week. I spent every weekend with Mike and most evenings with him on the phone.

In college, Mike and I talked about getting married. We dreamed about how we would spend the rest of our lives together. I was so happy. Our relationship continued into my sophomore year of college. During Christmas break that year, Mike became somewhat distant. I knew that something was wrong but I just could not put my finger on it. I worried about what was going on but tried to keep my chin up.

Finally in February, the bomb dropped. Mike called to tell me that he wanted to break up. I thought it was the end of my world. How would I survive without him? I cried and cried, and when I thought I was all cried out, I cried some more. I stopped eating. I didn’t want to be with my friends. I just wanted to be comforted by my misery.

Whenever the phone rang, I would jump. Maybe he was calling to say that he missed me, that he wanted to get back together. But the phone calls were never for me. I started to lose weight and my grades began to drop. In short, I was no fun! But fortunately, I had some really good friends.

One of those friends was Rose. She called me one weekend and said “Let’s go out! We should head down to Annapolis and check out the midshipmen!” Reluctantly, I agreed. Little did I know that that night would forever change my life.

We were walking through Dalghren Hall when a nice young man passed us. As we exited the building, that same young man was there holding the door for us. The three of us walked, and chatted, and laughed. When I got home very late that night, I woke my mother to tell her that I had met the man I was going to marry. That was thirty-two years ago, and I look forward to celebrating thirty-one years of marriage with that nice young man!

And I will be forever thankful that Mike broke up with me!

The photo above is of that handsome midshipman on our first "official" date. This blogpost appeared in my column, "The Empty Nest," in the Frederick News Post on November 3, 2012.

One Look Was All It Took

As we enter the month of Thanksgiving, I have been reflecting on events that have changed the course of my life. I was recently listening to the song “This by Darius Rucker. He sings about “every stoplight I didn't make, every chance I did or I didn't take,” all those things that could have happened but didn’t led him to where he is today. And he wouldn’t change a thing. That’s how I’ve been feeling.

Kids? Not me. Not ever. That was the theme by which I lived all through undergraduate school. I was going to be an attorney. If I chose marriage, it might slow me down, and I could really put career advancement in jeopardy if kids were to become a part of the picture. At least that was my thinking as a young college woman, and even as a young married woman.

However, when I was lying in the hospital after my daughter was born, law school never crossed my mind. For years I had set my goal as a career in corporate law. But looking into my daughter’s eyes as I held her in that hospital bed, I knew that I could not let anyone else take care of her. She wasn’t planned, but I was so grateful that she had shown up. And so, as I lay there in the hospital, I began to prepare for my new career as a stay-at-home mom.

My college advisor had told me after graduation to go out into the world and to be the best that I could be at whatever I chose. Now here I was choosing my daughter. I would spend my days playing with her and nurturing her.

When she was eighteen months old, we attended a local community theater production of “The Wizard of Oz.” We took classes together. We read together. And as she grew up, we were involved in theatrical productions together. Singing and dancing were also something we shared. I loved it when friends referred to us as the Jarman sisters. We shopped together, laughed together and spent lots of time together. Even though there were those times during puberty when I feared which demon would possess her when she woke, she was mine. And I loved being her mother.

I spent thirteen years as a stay-at-home mom raising my daughter and son (yes, he came along three and a half years after she arrived). I can’t even begin to imagine myself in a courtroom. The gaze into that baby’s eyes changed my life forever, and I couldn’t be more thankful.

My granddaughter will be ten months old this month. The time has flown by! But as she gets a little older, and as fall approaches, I am getting very excited about re-living some of my favorite fall traditions with a little one.

Fall means pumpkins and jack-o-laterns. I remember our annual outings to the pumpkin patch. We’d put on boots and sweatshirts and head down the road on a mission to pick out the best pumpkin ever! Of course, we had two children who each had their own ideas about what the perfect pumpkin should look like, so we typically came home with a few.

We’d drive down the long drive to the pumpkin farm and jump out of the car. The kids would head right to the field hoping to pick up the first pumpkin they saw. As the got older, they became more particular about finding the perfect pumpkin. They’d examine each side trying to determine which side would be best for the face or if the vine left a good enough handle for the lid. Some pumpkins were rejected because they were too small, others sometimes had a flat side.

Once our purchases were made, we’d load all of our pumpkins into the back of the car and head home. The kitchen table became the center of activity as the carving began. We never did anything excessively creative. Our jack-o-laterns mostly had the triangle nose and eyes with the smile exposing a few teeth. There were years, however, when mistakes were made with the carving knife and teeth were accidentally cut off. Those jacks just had great big grins.

The lanterns, after having been carefully carved, were placed out on the front porch with their candles in place. Sometimes the lids burned because the candle was too big or the lid was improperly placed on top. The smell of burning pumpkin would fill the front of the house.

The extra pumpkins, the ones that appeared perfect at the patch, but were rejected after further examination at home, were baked and used for pumpkin breads or pies. Pumpkins are so much a part of fall and fall is such a beautiful time of the year. I cannot wait to share it with my granddaughter!

The Leaves of Fall

My granddaughter will be ten months old this month. The time has flown by! But as she gets a little older, and as fall approaches, I am getting very about re-living some of my favorite fall traditions with a little one.
One of the reasons that I love fall so much is the beautiful array of colors that appear on the trees. I love the yellows, oranges, and reds of the fall leaves. Driving along the roads of Frederick in the fall, I am continually in awe of the splendor of the colors.

When Tim was in the Navy, we lived in Texas, California, and Florida. Those states are not typically known for their fall foliage. Few people travel to those places to see the magnificence of fall leaves. For five years, I went without a real fall. Sure we had trick-or-treating and Halloween. There were also pumpkin patches and apple cider, but never could I look out my window and see the color of fall.

The first year that we were back in Maryland, I would often pack the kids up in the car and just drive around the back roads and stop to gaze at the leaves. Many times as I was driving the car, I would wipe the tears from my eyes. I had missed my leaves so much, but they were there just like they were every fall. I had missed them so.
I also love the leaves on the ground. There’s nothing like the sound of crunching leaves as you hike down the mountain trails along the Appalachian Trail. When my children were younger, we would take them on hikes in the fall and we would all crunch, crunch, crunch down the trail path.

Leaves are also great in piles. I loved the times when we would rake them all nice and neatly into a great mound on the lawn and then the dogs would come running and plow right through the pile. Leaves would fly everywhere and we would all laugh. I think the dogs enjoyed it as much as we did.

I can’t wait to make leaf piles with Chloë, to hike along the trails and giggle at the crunching sounds. Fall is such a beautiful time of the year. I am so looking forward to sharing it with my granddaughter!

This blogpost ran as my column, "The Empty Nest," in the Frederick News Post on Sunday October 7, 2012.