Motivation

I write my blog for me....a journal of my life, a memoir for my sons. Kinda like when you look through an old photo album and a picture brings back the images and feelings of an event long ago. For these reasons I don't expect others to read it, or to be influenced by it. However, lately I have been lax on documenting the important moments in time as life has moved swiftly ahead and I have lost the drive to create a meaningful post. Putting words together to create my unique voice has just seemed like too much work.

So, it came as a surprise when I saw a compliment on my Facebook recently from my girlfriend Amber.

"Sitting by the fire on this chilly day, I stumbled across an amazing blog! So well written, quirky, & clever. It is fabulous! And it is yours :)"

It took me a minute to realize she was talking about my blog, and when it registered, it not only sent a glow of gratitude through me that she had taken the time to read it and that it had resonated within her enough to leave such a nice compliment, but it also reenergized me to write. Realizing if she could relate to its content, then someday my boys will also.

So thank you Amber for your kind words, they too have greatly influenced me.

Prideful Mamma

So proud of Keaton, he had a deadline to finish a book and take the Accelerated Reader test by Tuesday. Last trimester he read a book, in fact he read it twice so he made sure he got it, and for the first time passed the AR test on it, (comprehension is his biggest weakness) however he did not get credit because it was below the five point minimum.....so this trimester he picked a fifteen point book, he did well reading everyday, but because it was so long he had to read on weekends and during busy periods, but some days he still missed, so this last weekend he had to read two hundred pages in between playoff games for soccer, sleepovers, birthday parties, flight lessons, etc......but he did it with no influence from me.

That is why I am proud of him, the fact he passed his test was a big bonus.

An Expensive Lesson

Not long ago my oldest child, Kellan, called me with something that weighed heavily on his mind. I am lucky that he does this often and that sometimes he even listens to my advice ;). This days concern was about his math class.....he felt he might fail it. This is my child who has never received below a "B" on anything in his life and has never had to try or make an effort to do so. My child who has made every athletic team he has ever tried out for, who was asked to be on the athletic decathlon by his high school AP teacher who thought he was the most unique thinker she has ever seen, and whose out of the box thinking style has many of his teachers becoming lifelong friends, as they could communicate on the same level and learn from each other......however I was not surprised when he told me he might be failing.

Actually for these exact reasons, living a life on easy street had not prepared him for real life, which is all about how you deal with situations and nothing about how smart you are. When I asked him why he thought he was failing, not about the grades but about the actions involved, he stated honestly, that he hadn't done the homework, hadn't participated in the learning, He even stated that math was his easiest class and that this level, calculus 3, should have been a breeze for him, but because he thought it would be easy he didn't think he had to put in as much effort.

"We'll there you have it." I told him.

"That's it, he stated! That's all your going to say?"

"Yep, you know how it happened, so now you just have to deal with the consequences."

................But I did elaborate, cuz I can't stop myself. I told him what I have learned through many years of experience. As a child I always thought I was stupid and I thought being smart would make my life so much easier. So as a mother to him, I wanted him to be the best he could be, and I put too much emphasis on his grades. However, when I went back to college in my late thirties, I found that I wasn't as dumb as I thought by graduating with a 4.0, then realized an even more important lesson, it wasn't about the grade on your report card, but about what you had actually learned, both in books and through the process of learning. With Keaton, my whole idea of worth shifted when I see him struggling as a blind person, in a classroom of teachers who teach 90% visually. He comes away with only part of the puzzle pieces he needs, yet he will do what ever it takes to make it work. I do not judge him by grades, but by the determination and works he puts into something. Keaton is already learning those skills that I should have taught you earlier.

I could see the wheels turning and after a minute, he nodded and agreed. "You're right," he said "I need to take responsibility for my actions. I will do everything I can to get a good grade on the final and hopefully that will bring my grade up to passing, and if not, then I will take it again next semester and take a class during the summer to make it up."

I smiled that he got it, and then I told him that if he failed I would 1. still love him, 2. He would have to take the class again, and this time. 3. He would have to pay for the class himself because his father and I were not paying for his lesson.

A sheepish look accompanied his reply, "I liked it better when you just ragged on me, in junior high, for getting an "A", when you felt I should have gotten and "A+".

Postscript:
Since a good grade on the final was not enough to pass the class, the real lesson to be learned will come when he finds out that paying $20 dollars a week for a $1500 class, on a college students budget, is going to mean a lot more top ramen and walking, to save gas.

True Nature

One of Keaton's P.E. teachers pulled me aside recently to tell me about an interaction she had witnessed with Keaton. The students were picking teams for their next activity and some popular boys had asked Keaton to be on their team. He agreed. But then he realized his friend, who is more academic than athletic, was team less and he asked him to join their team. The other boys protested and when it come down to it, they gave Keaton an ultimatum; Keaton could stay by himself, or he could go with his friend. The teacher stated to me that Keaton did not hesitate and looked at his nonathletic friend and said, "we'll I guess it is just you and I, on our own team" and walked away.

Moments like these, show me the true person he is, and are more priceless than gold.

A Treasured Gift

The last birthday gift my sister, Denise, gave me before she passed away was several packages of special teas. She had gone on vacation with my twin sister, and their spouses, to San Francisco and happened upon a little tea shop where the owners made all their own teas. The story behind the gift was as fun to hear as the present was to open. Soon after, she became too ill to travel and four months later she was gone.

I have held these teas, in their pink and opaque packages, in my tea drawer, and every time I see them I think of her and the way her face lit up when she told me the story of the funny couple and their passion for tea. I am afraid to use them because, in my thoughts, when they are gone, so too is the last present I will ever receive from her. However, I also realize that she would have wanted me to enjoy them and instead hold on to the memory, just as I do with her.

This week I set out on mission and found a tea kettle. With its Japanese lines, and cast iron material, not something I would have chosen otherwise, but seemingly perfect for this tea ceremony. Today, I cleaned and worked and when it was time for a break I heated the water, primed the teapot, opened the beautiful packaging and thought of my sister as the tea seeped.

As I savored the complexity of the favors, I remembered my sister and realized that this tea; that is flowery, with hints of sweetness and tartness represents her so well. And I enjoyed it immensely.

Foto Friday

Talked Kevin into creating this lamp for the Mammoth house. It is made from an old pulley from my great grandfathers farm. He was reluctant but fell in love with the finished product as much as I did.

Foto Friday