the things you learn from a pink dot

Bella didn't learn to read until she was in kindergarten. I specifically didn't teach her to read until she went to kindergarten. I knew she was capable, had the ability prior to entering kindergarten but I didn't think she needed to learn this particular skill until she got there. Now, if you know me well, you're probably confused. I am a good reader. A very good reader. A very fast reader.

It is because of this that I didn't teach this child to read. I wanted her to learn at her own time, not my time, with her peers, at the schedule and pace of her kindergarten teacher. I would help her along but I didn't feel that she needed to go into kindergarten knowing how to read in order to achieve greatness. In order to be the smartest kid in her class. I knew she was smart and she it just wasn't something I was going to push her at. I "read up" very early on. I knew how to read before I entered kindergarten. In first grade, I surpassed the "blue birds" to my own group and had to color during reading time until other students caught up with me. In second grade, third and fourth grade, I had to go to the grade completely above me for reading. It was challenging yes, uncomfortable too.

While I was confident in Bella's abilities and skill, I wanted her more importantly to also not be bored early on. To not go to kindergarten feeling like she already knew something she was supposed to learn there. I wanted her to want to learn to read. She did and picked it up very quickly. Today, she is a very good reader. A very, very good reader. There are some days she takes five tests in a day. I think it is too many but who am I too say too much is too much. Why should I discourage her for being too smart? For loving to read? Which brings me to the pink dot.. Bella has gotten so good that she has now surpassed the first grade reading level. The last time she was tested, she tests at the end of third grade. Two grades ahead of where she is. It is amazing. I am so proud but I don't make a big deal out of it. I don't want her to get a big head after all. All this really means to her is she can read up to a certain level - it's color coded by a certain dot in the library and she has free reign to choose her books. She reads silently each night for 20 minutes and I spot test her occasionally. She scores 100% and I mostly leave her alone. Each morning she tells me the title of the book, I sign the reading log and so on. She's reading at a third grade level and can read anything between 1st - 3rd, so no problems.

The past two weeks Bella has been pretty emotional. Not her usual happy go lucky self. I'm a little concerned, I talk to her and get nothing from her. I ask my friend Tracey, our acting children's minister, to talk to her.. Bella loves Tracey and they go out to lunch and to a bridal shower, a fun day for them.

Tracey asks me if I know about the book Bella read for AR? The one about the soldier who died? The one who lost his legs in the war? My heart is beating so hard I can feel it in my ears and I think I'm going to throw up. What book? An AR book about a soldier? That my child has checked out from the library? THAT I HAVEN'T READ!?! We limit everything war related in our house. Especially now with Jason facing his fifth deployment. Bella and I have a very, very long discussion. About the book. It's a pink dot, well within her reading range, she checked the book out at the library and read it. It's about a dad and a little boy that go to the Wall to look for their Veteran. On the way there, they meet another veteran who is in a wheelchair because he lost his legs in the war.

And all of this is in a pink dot? A pink dot? Suitable for 7 year old? Ugh, I think I'm going to vomit. Or scream. Maybe pass out. I'm not sure which. I ask Bella why she hasn't talked to me about the book. Why she didn't ask me or tell me that she read it if she was this upset. "Well, mama, the lady in the book says that these things are happening over there. And you keep saying that my Daddy will be safe. That he will go and he will come back. But what if he goes and loses his legs over there. Or what if someone shoots him. I think that the lady that wrote the book just knows more than you. And I didn't say anything to you because I didn't want to worry you."

Some things you just shouldn't learn from a book..especially anything regarding war.

they say it's your birthday..

I recently put my running shoes back on for the second time in 2012 after an almost seven year hiatus from running. It is still your voice I hear inside my head after 15 years being off the track, away from Hickory Hills and the streets in the town that is one mile squared..

Some things you don't forget, somethings just stay with you forever I guess.

I wonder if now at 77 you know what an impact you had on some of the lives of the girls you coached? If you remember us like we remember you?

I remember you "borrowing" a bicycle to follow behind us, that crazy big red van, and your voice. Oh your voice. The voice that was like a megaphone without being an actual megaphone. I can still hear you say my name. Or your way of motivating us in a way that only you could.. You were one kind. There was no one else quite like you.

10 weeks ago when I started training the first time around I got hurt almost immediately. This time it was my hip instead of my shins and an MRI that cost $400 instead of weeks at the chiropractor. And no, I wasn't even rollerblading. I'm just old this time.

After multiple stress fractures and hearing several orthos say "running just isn't your sport" "pick up swimming", I really started to doubt myself. I hate training. I've always hated training. I'm just not patient with it. I just want to be in shape. The best shape. I.want.to.be.fast. Now. I hate lungs that are out of shape. Legs that are heavy and slow. I hated intervals, I hated trips to Hickory Hills. But you knew this because you knew me. I used to think you planned this stuff on purpose on the days they served chili for lunch. Or the long runs when you followed us in your big red bus, good times.

I can still hear you. Pick up your dairyaire. If you ran any slower you would be standing still Baker. BAKER..my 82 year old grandmother runs faster than you. Dig, Dig, Dig. The only person that's going to beat you in this race, is you. Now get on that track and move it. OH MY GAWD..Are you even running out there? A woman that is 8 months pregnant just ran faster than all of you.

How mad you made me. Pissed off is more accurate really. It was your purpose and I ran better that way. You pushed me to do better just to prove to you that I could. To prove to myself that I could do it. It made us all want to win. You always got us to give you our best. I never wanted to let you down.

When I got hurt this time, I was frustrated. I was mad. I was defeated. Maybe this wasn't for me. I'm old. I'm out of shape. Maybe I'm just not a runner after all. It's been so long. Swimming really wasn't looking to bad. And then Claire said, "I wish I could call Katie H. on you right now. Can you even hear her now?" And she was right. And I knew it. Maybe I just needed a megaphone in my ear.

Its been 3.5 weeks now and I'm up to 2.5 miles again. When I'm tired and want to stop, it is always your voice that I hear screaming in my head to finish that extra .5 miles. Grandmothers everywhere are faster than me but you always said they were anyway. Someday that grandmother may be me. Most likely, it will be because of you..

Wherever you are, thank you. Happy Birthday.

It's Friday but Sunday's coming!

on parenting

Thursdays are my least favorite day of the week. Most people despise Mondays, well I loathe Thursdays. And yet, every single week they smack me in the face just like the annoying buzz of my alarm clock.

The kids are worn out by Thursday. Every Wednesday we spend a glorious evening sitting in the car at dance, followed up with a grease filled meal in their carseats from the lucky choosers pick on our way to church.. I have gone back and fourth on whether or not to cut Wednesday night church activities out right now because it is so miserable getting there but they love them. So I motor along. Driving through the city at a snails pace to get us there, 15 minutes late every week, running 4 kids in like a crazy person, Bella in dance clothes, Will galloping down the hall to soak up every second of choir he can.

This past week, we were under a severe thunderstorm warning. It took me 35 minutes to drive the usual 15 minute drive because lets face it no one knows how to drive in the rain anyway. Especially if you live in the state of Alabama where a single drop of rain might as well equal an all out monsoon. So I'm 15 minutes into the drive and we still have about 15 minutes and 10 miles to go, and think, lets just go home. Wednesdays are seriously a long day for us. "Nooooo.. we love church, we have to go. We don't care if it's raining. We'll just be late, we're always late. No one cares." Sure. So we truck on, we arrive 10 minutes later than our normal 15. We get home late.

The kids are even grumpier this morning. They argue over breakfast. Over syrup. It's a hot commodity if you live here. Every single one of the children I gave birth to fight over who gets to sit with the syrup bottle in front of them at breakfast. A syrup bottle, it's like the pirates lost treasure chest or something. And then the real battle begins..getting Will ready for school. He doesn't like to get ready for school and on Thursdays it is harder than normal. He actually only has one easy day - Wednesday - when I tell him he is racing Miss Tonya and he better win :)

So this particular Thursday, he actually is in a good mood. He could care less about syrup, he's eating cereal. He brushes his teeth first, manages to find both of his socks and decides he doesn't need to gallop around the house like the Duke. He simply gets dressed. ah-mazing. He brings me his sneakers and I tie them. By some small miracle, Will is ready first. At 6:45. He is so proud of himself. I can hardly believe it... I didn't have to argue or beg him one time to get ready for school. I am so proud of him I told him he can have a surprise because he is ready for school first.

I move my attention to the grumpier old daughters that are currently fighting over a hairbrush and who is actually the owner of the flashlight that isn't going to school with us today. I ask Will to get his coat and get ready to get in the car. note..It was over 70 degrees here last week and I was talking about his windbreaker lying right by his backpack. We go to get in the car and Will is wearing his Northface jacket that was hanging on the coat wrack. The coat wrack is now literally hanging from the two holes in my wall.

I quietly asked Will, Did you jump up to get your coat? He said, You told me to get my coat mommy and I wanted you to be proud of me. I am ready first today. Do I still get my surprise? and I responded, you sure do buddy and it looks like Daddy does too when he gets home..

Our children learn to react to situations from watching us react. Sometimes as a parent it is best to pick our battles..

our new normal

1. I know that eventually we will be able to talk on the phone without crying. We will be able to hang up the phone without crying. The tears will just stop.

2. I know that some days they really do just want their daddy. And when they hold on to the Daddy dolls like a life preserver, it's the next best thing.

3. Two more Daddy dolls are on the way but you can't overnight or Express ship those things because every other kid requesting a Daddy doll wants it for the same reason we do. I should have invented those things.

4. Every day I will choose joy. Some days it will be harder than others but I will choose joy. At the end of this, I will not have sad, bitter children.

5. The one thing I know without a doubt, my children know sacrifice. They know service. They know courage. They know honor. They will be proud.

They know these first hand more than some adults will ever know.

6. On week one day, day one, our car battery died. The kids were loaded in the van, ready to head to dance and straight to church. We weren't going anywhere. I pushed the van out in the driveway, with Sammy steering and her mom helping. The battery was so dead it couldn't even be jumped. I hitched a ride to buy a new battery while Sammy watched the kids and her dad came over to change it in the freezing cold.

7. On day 1, reduex, the vacuum cleaner died. If this didn't happen every.single.time I would probably cry. I actually laughed. It happens every time. I can now fix vacuum cleaners and jump car batteries. Pretty soon I will be a mini electrician and a plumber.

8. People ask what they can do to help. When someone starts puking here, that's when you can help. Jason handles all the puke.

9. The kids are fighting less than I thought. They are all very excited to help each other out and help me do things. The girls actually enjoy getting Drew dressed in the morning.

10. Sometimes people come out of no where to help you. To bring you coffee, to hug you when you when you need it most, to say nothing when that's what you need to hear, to laugh at with you when you flush markers down toilets, to stand in your driveway in the pitch black to change a battery, to feed you cheeseburgers. We are blessed beyond measure and I thank God for all of you.