Intruder drills

E bounced into my backseat after school, “We did an intruder drill today.”

(Lump formed in my throat) “What was that like?”

“It was okay, the music teacher moved the bleachers so we could hide behind them.  Then we laid down flat and covered our heads.”

(Lump still in throat) “Was that scary?”

“No.  We have to know what to do if someone breaks into the school and starts shooting.  The only scary part was when Mrs. B (the principal) shook the door handle trying to get in the room.  She tried to break in and the door was locked so that was kinda scary.”

My hands were firmly grasping the steering wheel in the 10 and 2 position.  Coach Rod, my driver’s education teacher/football coach would have been proud.  Although I think he advised against driving under emotional stress and what I was feeling in that moment probably qualified as such.  I finally got air to pass the lump in my throat, “I am glad you are doing those drills.” I say meaning every word and hating that they are coming out of my mouth. 

This is now the world we live in, the world that is forming my kid’s childhood memories.  I remember filing into the windowless hallway of my elementary school for tornado drills; E will remember hiding behind the bleachers in music or behind her desk in her classroom during intruder drills.   It is not progress or regression; it is not right or wrong, it is just the world we live in today.

It is also a world wherein she was one of only a handful of kids in her class that did not have a “device” to bring to school to enjoy the class reward of earning 100 behavior stars.  My kids do not have iphones, nooks, an ipad etc.  They have coloring books, reading books, Barbies, and a TV that they cannot move out of our living room. I want my kids to be kids as long as possible.  I make them play outside when possible even when they protest.  I cannot give them my childhood, not that they would want it, but I want to give them as good a childhood as we are able to give.  It will include intruder drills and standardized tests, gluten free birthday parties and the “there is a pill or an app for whatever plagues you” mentality and they will remember it fondly as they age. 

The power of a voice and a boy band

The music filling the arena was on a loop that was attacking our eardrums with each bass thump and adolescent screech.  The earplugs I jammed into my skull did little to shield me from the endless drone of empty lyrics; for the first time in a while I felt old.  My mind wandered for a minute and I decided this could be a teaching moment.  I looked at my baby girl, my 8 year old, who was anxiously awaiting her very first concert with her favorite band, One Direction.  Her eyes were getting heavy.  The band was over an hour late…did they not realize their fan base all have bed times earlier than their showtime? 

            “E, did you know one voice can change the world?” 

                        “Huh?,” she asked removing her own ear plugs.  I leaned in closer and said it again.  She tilted her head and said, “What do you mean?”  I tried to convince her to walk down five rows to the railing and start chanting, “ONE DIRECTION, ONE DIRECTION, ONE DIRECTION” to override the loud music that was clearly meant to deter this kind of rebellious behavior.  She shook her head, “I can’t do that, mom.”

            “Wars have been started by less, E.  You could do it,” was my response and there we sat for another 20 minutes until Harry, Liam and the others decided to get to work.

            The reaction of my daughter watching the concert was so fulfilling.  She was happy, genuinely happy.  We stood, danced, sang and cheered throughout the show until the last song played.  We knew there would be an encore but of course, before that there would be more waiting. 

We took our seats, I was secretly thankful for the break when E cocked her head to me and gave me a sneaky little smirk that set off alarm bells in my head.  She had my smirk…. that was my smirk, how does one inherit a smirk?  Crap.  I am in trouble. Calming myself I simply asked, “What?”

E had decided it was her turn to try and change her world.  She opened her mouth and started chanting, “ENCORE, ENCORE, ENCORE”.  I joined her and then the people behind us joined her and a few people in front of us joined her.  It was not a rousing response but she got a few yelling with her.  She leaned in, “Mom, they are doing it!  They are following me!!!  I am leading!!!”  Tears filled my eyes; my smile so big it literally hurt my face. 

If I do nothing else for her as long as she lives I am content knowing:

1) I took her to see One Direction for her first concert

2) I was there the moment she learned to appreciate the power of her own voice.  I pray she will always use it for good.  And also remember punctuality is a social grace that should be respected. 

3) My smirk will live on; May God help you all.

Ella, my peace and smile maker

“Mom, I am going to address my school tomorrow about peace tomorrow in our assembly,” said Ella while I was tucking her in at 830PM Thursday night.  I was surprised at this declaration. “What do you mean?" I asked, "What are you going to say?”

The school has been studying about peace and Dr. Martin Luther King.  E said she asked her principal last week if she could say a few words about the subject to THE ENTIRE SCHOOL.  She did not ask her teacher or the school secretary she asked the principal directly.  Her principal reportedly told her she could do so the next week, which was this past Friday.  After this impressive story, the other shoe dropped, “I still need to write my speech.” 

I walked downstairs not knowing if this was all real or not.  E is not overly outgoing, she is even shy around most people she does not know.  This found confidence baffled me.  I was excited for her, confused and too tired from the day to think any more about it.  We had decided to write the speech in the morning so I let it end there.

Friday morning E came downstairs already dressed with shoes tied and coat zipped.  We wrote out her speech and she and her dad walked to school.  I got to the school in time for the assembly still unsure on if her speech was actually going to happen.  There was no time to drop B off at his school so I found a chair and he squirmed on my lap waiting for the show to begin.  E’s principal took the stage and greeted all the classes, K-6^th grades with at least two classes in each grade and about 100 parents.  It seemed like most of the parents there regularly attended these things.  This was my third assembly in three years at the school so I will not be winning the Mother of the Year award.  The fact my Best Mom Ever Award would not be arriving was proven further when the principal actually asked E to come forward and deliver her thoughts.  Tears filled my eyes; this was really happening.  E stood up, dropped her One Direction backpack and unzipped her jacked to reveal she was wearing….. her pajama top.  A cute but very thin, white, sleeveless cotton shirt in 50 degree weather.  Nice.  I looked at my husband who had found us in the mob of people and said, “we have to check under her coat from now on, period.”

Ella was now on stage and took the microphone in her little hands that were shaking from nervousness.  B decided it was now he had to pee.  He was bouncing and holding myself trying to make sure E did not deter attention away from him.  Miraculously, the promise of Fruit Loops for the next day’s breakfast bought me some time with him.  (I know I am not digging myself out of the gutter with these confessions.)   Ella read her speech word for word; she asked the students to be kind to one another, to smile at each other and do their personal best to spread peace throughout the school. My tears of pride kept coming as she spoke.  My baby girl who doesn’t like to leave the house on weekends did not only address her entire school but she asked HER PRINCIPAL for the opportunity to do so. 

Everyday I am in awe of my children.  Some days it is because of their audacity, their ability to create chaos and messes or their natural talent to get their voice to the highest octave humanly possible when they scream.  On Friday it was E’s bravery that took my breath away.  When she rejoined her class on the gym floor after her speech she looked back to find me and flashed a priceless smile.

I took that smile and borrowed it the rest of the day.

Captain America is taking a sick day

No. Mommy that’s not how it goes

Rise it up, float it down and make it cover my toes

Those are just the blanket demands; there are others to obey

The sun is shining but my baby is sick so inside is where we will stay

Mommy, you can’t leave; you have to stay right here

So I gather my precious devices around me, and then I see the tear

“Lay with me?” he asks, phrased as a question not demand

I snuggle over; his head is on my chest, his hand now in my hand

It is like that we lay through the duration of his nap

The world is arriving in my inbox with my baby on my lap

I close my eyes; the tears now belong to me

With his limp, fevered body, he touches my cheek, “I love you mommy”

I will cradle my baby and tend to his care

This world will continue whether I am in here or out there

He will be better as the medicine works its magic ways

There will be more karate and Captain America days

But for today he’s my baby and I’m his mom

I’ll cherish these moments preparing for the storm after this calm