A Soft Pants Kid

The first true soft pants kid I ever encountered was my first year teaching.  The year was 2006.  Tyler (and I feel good about using his name because, if he knew I was writing about him it would be to his absolute delight) spent the majority of his second grade year trying to convince his classmates that soft pants were the way to go.  In that day and age, the majority of kids were wearing jeans.  Tyler knew there were better things in this world.  No one was really swayed, but it wasn't for lack of effort on his part.  His favorites were yellow, which he usually paired with a tie-dyed t-shirt, and he wore them often.  

He was ahead of his time.

As a person who grew up wearing jeans, I thought that was the way.  I intended to raise my kids the same.  The first one went along with me.

The second?  Not so much.

 As we argued over pants (again), I realized, this is it. I'm waving the white flag. I'm raising a soft pants kid.  And I immediately thought of Tyler.

He'd be so proud.

I ran into Tyler shortly after he graduated a few years ago.  Same big grin, same big personality. He bounded up to me and said, "Ms. Cloninger!  I bet you don't remember me!"  Ohh, but I do.  

Your teachers remember you, friends, and in their mind's eye you will always be the age you were when they taught you.  Yellow sweatpants and all.  And, crazily enough, they'll remember you on a random Friday morning when they're arguing with their own child about pants and telling them they're going to be thirty years old one day and not able to button a button.  And then the teacher is going to think about you, and think, Man, I hope they learned how to button buttons and then wonder for a moment about where you are and what you're doing and hope that you remember them fondly.  They're going to hope the one hundred eighty days they spent with you meant something, and they're going to hope they were enough--kind enough, patient enough, good enough.

Because as much as we talk about relationships and the lasting impacts we have as educators, our students touch our lives just as much.

Find your joy, y'all.

Summer, the Dentist, and Walmart

I have reached the sweet spot in the summer where I no longer know what day it is.

It is a beautiful thing.  

After two weeks of swimming lessons at the Y and a week at the beach, it's my goal this week to leave the house as little as possible.  This, I've found, is the best way to fully appreciate the summer.  I've laid in the hammock, stayed up until 2am reading (I've fallen down the Colleen Hoover rabbit hole), binge watched Dexter: New Blood (because, challenge accepted, seven day Showtime free trial), and have generally tried to be as much of a hermit as possible.  It has been nice.

I had to venture out today because Harper had a dentist appointment.  When you're in the car with Harper, you're a captive audience.  She knows this.  It's painful.  On the way, I answered a barrage of questions including, "Do spiders drink water?  What about crickets?"  which led me to pondering how little I really know about the world.  I'm assuming they drink water, but I'm not one hundred percent sure, which just solidifies Harper's belief that I'm just "kind of smart, but definitely not a genius."  

She keeps me humble.  

After the dentist, we went to Walmart to pick out a prize because I'm not above bribing my child to act like she has some sense in public.  Both the dentist and hygienist bragged about her behavior, and said she was just perfect, and we all know that could have gone a completely different way.  

Bribery works and I will continue to use it.  

My before-kids self is cringing and thinking, "You're better than that," but my present-day self knows that, really, I'm not.  I eat crow on pretty much a daily basis when parenting this kid.  I've resigned myself to this.  I don't even care anymore.

Before I go into the rest of my story, you should know Harper also lost a tooth during this dental visit.  Her front tooth was loose, and she asked Dr. W if he could just "wiggle that right on out" for her.  Bless.

Harper carefully, slowly, pain-stak-ing-ly chose a toy.  We headed to the self checkout because there are few things the girl loves more than scanning her own stuff and getting her own receipt.  Happily, Harper grabbed her bag and the all-important receipt, then stopped.  Her attention was on the cashier who was monitoring the self checkout.

You can tell when Harper zeroes in on someone.  She gets quiet.  Pensive, even.  You can practically see the wheels turning.  I'm pretty sure the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, too, but that's beside the point.

I realized then that the cashier was (very noticeably) missing some teeth.

Before I could lean down to hiss a warning in her ear, she said excitedly, "You're just like me!  Is the Tooth Fairy going to come see you too?  I bet you'll get A LOT of money!"  

The woman smiled uncertainly.  I grimaced.  Harper beamed.

Lord help.  

Find your joy, y'all.

The First Post

I began blogging in 2009.  We had started fertility treatments, experienced a miscarriage, and were going through a lot.  My original intent was to use the blog as a way to keep friends and family updated about what was going on with us.  It quickly became a form of therapy for me.

Through the years, I blogged about months of fertility treatments and failed cycles.  I wrote about finally becoming pregnant, Aniston's birth, and then, Harper.  I kept up with monthly updates and pictures for both of them, celebrating milestones and holidays.  I shared our weekends, our day to day life, both the mundane and the wonderful.  

Last year, I wrote about my separation and impending (now finalized) divorce.  

Since then, I haven't blogged much.  I've journaled a lot, because writing brings me joy, but I haven't put much out there publicly.  It was hard to continue writing a blog that had been devoted to our family and all the memories contained there, and, honestly, leaving thirteen years of memories and happenings there for anyone to go back and read seemed strange.  It felt wrong--not ethically or morally, of course; just...ill-fitting, I suppose--continuing to write on the same platform.  

I spent some time today archiving posts.  Not deleting them; just archiving.  The blog is now fresh and new, ready to chronicle life and all it has to offer.

I am back.  In so many ways.

Find your joy, y'all.