Yesterday was Leap day. I was supposed to write myself a letter to come back to on the next Leap Day, 2028. I didn’t do it. So I do it now.
It seems fitting that my first Slice of the Month is actually supposed to be from *last* month, but here we are.
Dear Older Me, Remember when you were in your mid 40’s? You’re in your late 40’s now. Remember when you were experiencing peri-men symptoms? My (probably laughable) prayer is that you’re closer to out of that by now. Remember when you used to fake cry because your kids were growing up and both in high school? THEY’RE BOTH OUT OF HIGH SCHOOL NOW. Let that sink in for a minute. *Now breathe.* Remember when you were wondering if you were enough…? Of a woman… Of a Wife… Of a Mother… Of a Friend…? Guess what. You are. Probably more than enough at this point, but let’s keep it humble. Remember when you said you would be intentional about making time for your friends? My prayer is that you did that, and enjoyed every moment. Remember when you were worried about EVERY.THING? Even when you knew it would be ok? Look at you now. Being Ok. MY prayer is that you have found a therapist to talk it out with, and that you’re comfortable enough to be honest and vulnerable. My prayer for us is that we’ve found balance. My prayer for us is that we’ve found peace. My prayer for us is that we’ve found strength. My prayer for us is that we’ve found happiness. My prayer for us is that we’ve found our voice. My prayer for us is that we’ve found ourselves.
A friend posted on social media today about Kindergarten Kindness and it reminded me of an experience of Kindness I had last week.
This Friend’s post included a Tweet (…is it still called that since the platform name changed?) “Small, clumsy kindnesses, earnestly given, are more healing that you would believe. More adults should be willing to show the tender caring that a little kid expresses when they say “you looked sad so I brought you a rock.” For those of you who know me personally, you know that Kindness is my Jam, the more random the better. Kid Kindness is the best kind, because it’s so innocent.
Here’s my tale.
Last week, a Fifth Grader came down(stairs) to my classroom and very politely stood in the doorway until I acknowledged them. I was in the middle of giving instructions and they waited for me. When I noticed the Fifth Grader, I said “how can I help you, darlin’?” (because apparently I’m a Southern Belle) and this Wonderful Child said “Hi, Mrs. Ortiz. I have this for you” and handed me a brownie shaped like a star. I accepted the gift and asked what it was for, and this Fifth Grader said “It’s my birthday.” I asked the Fifth Grader if I could give them a hug and they said yes, and I told them HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!! and clutched my pearls as they walked away. I then looked to my Amazing Parapro and said “who was that?”
Reader, I did not know this child. I had to go to the office and ask them who was celebrating a birthday just so I could figure out…maybe it was the sibling of one of my Kinders? Maybe it was a kid I had in Preschool but couldn’t recognize or remember? Someone maybe I encountered last year hanging out in the hallway? But no. I did not know this child.
This Wonderful Child wanted to share a sweet birthday treat with me. Little Ol’ Me. And what was the reason?
This Fifth Grader thinks I’m nice, and wanted to do something nice for me.
I wrote a thank you note and put it in their teachers’ mailbox, letting this Fifth Grader know that the Act of Kindness they showed me turned my day around (it really did), and was a sweet indicator of a kind heart.
This story is not about me (because I know I’m awesome…HA!!!) but is about a kind-hearted, sweet-souled Fifth Grader who succeeded in blessing me just when I needed it.
God always sends Angels, if you’re paying attention.
Perhaps your child* says “watch this!” so much because their love language is words of affirmation.
Perhaps your child plays with your arm jiggly parts because their love language is physical touch.
Perhaps your child tries to help out (even if they do it “wrong” or make a bigger mess) because their love language is acts of service.
Perhaps your child asks “what did you bring me” when you return from the store or a trip without them because their love language is receiving gifts.
Perhaps your child wants to ride with you on what you consider mundane errands, or follows you around the house from room to room because their love language is quality time.
Perhaps, instead of being annoyed or feeling inconvenienced by these things, we learn how to love the kids in our lives in a healthy way, and give them what they need to feel safe with us and loved by us.
Children are not a distraction from more important work. They are the most important work. – Dr. John Trainer
What if, hear me out, we were able to call in “well” to work? I mean, you probably *could* but what would that be met with? Like if the weather was great and you woke up feeling like you didn’t want to waste a good day… you should be able to call in well.
Which brings me to my insight: Once my Auntie said to me “learn to rest before your body forces you to, because your body wont pick a convenient time” and of course, Young Me didn’t quite get it. NOW of course, I understand. Listening to my body sometimes means not cooking dinner (bowl of cereal or Ramen, anyone?), or not going to XXX event, or even *GASP* taking a day off work (anyone wanna write lesson plans for me? No? ok then), so that I can sit on the couch and just sit. Because if you let your body choose to force rest, you’ll be sick the day of an anticipated outing, or have a headache during the most beautiful weather day of the week, or get hurt doing something silly and now you’re REALLY doing nothing but siting.
Rest, according to Webster, is a noun which means (my edits for space) 1. a bodily state characterized by minimal functional and metabolic activities 2. freedom from activity or labor – a state of motionlessness or inactivity 4. peace of mind or spirit 6. something used for support
And if you want to know what it means to “rest” as a verb: 1. to get rest by lying down (sleep) 2. to cease from action or motion : refrain from labor or exertion 3. to be free from anxiety or disturbance (and more)
So some things jumped out at me. A Rest day doesn’t mean a day where you sleep all day. My bladder would not allow for that anyway. But it DOES mean, at least to Merriam-Webster, peace of mind or spirit, to be free from anxiety or disturbance, freedom from activity or labor…You see where I’m going with this?
We toss around the phrase “self care” and we imagine pedicures and massages and frolicking in the tall reeds while smiling gaily at the wind floating by, but what if Self Care just meant REST. No agenda, no catching up on laundry/housework/responsibilities, and allowing ourselves to just…BE? We’ve gone from being Human Beings to being Human Doings…and I’m learning to not be ok with that.
I wonder what would happen if we prioritized rest as a form of self care, and were selfish about it? I know there’s guilt involved (any fellow moms or teachers feel me?), but isn’t it easier to be more present and more available and more open once you’ve had the chance to get out of your own head and just BE?
Give it some thought And if you’re really motivated, share your plan for REST with me!
In this edition of #transparencyTuesday, I’ll be a bit vulnerable.
I sometimes sit down in the shower. We have a shower chair from when I broke my ankle, and sometimes, I’ll use it even though my ankle is no longer broken, because sometimes the thought of showering is enough to make me want to scream. So I’ll sit and let the water beat down on me as I wash parts, but also, give my body a break while I’m in there. I can’t decide if this is lazy or genius. But there it is.
I know I’m one step away from installing one of those sitting tubs that they advertise late at night or have a stand for in the “mall” but for now, the chair serves a purpose.
Thanks for reading. And feel free to share your own #transparencys =)
I miss my dog. He was a pain in my butt and a great sense of joy in my life. He was stubborn, lazy, cuddly, funny, cute, and everything else that fit right in with this zany family.
He thought he was the Alpha. He was sometimes right.
Just the right amount of ridiculousness to make me laugh, even when he was in trouble. He ate my steak. Jumped right up to the counter and yoinked it, still hot, resting on the cutting board, and inhaled it like a Hoover. I was so mad for like three days. And he knew it. He wouldn’t leave me alone after that. He stayed up my butt until I forgave him. But I will never forget.
He was bigger than we thought he would get, muscular, and ate like we never fed him. The vet used to joke that we could skip a day and he’d be fine. He thought he was a lap dog. At 95 pounds, he was not. But if you sat on the floor, he was in your lap.
He had allergies, just like everyone else in the house. And his sneezing was so dramatic I would laugh at him. Every. Time. I would say “bless you” and then laugh at him. He would side eye me.
He chose Little d at PAWS. We went and registered to adopt, and then visited during a Puppy Open House. I was pining over a beagle. But Deacon, then Oliver, wouldn’t leave Little d, then 4, alone. So we made it official. I gave him his new first name.
He loved car rides. Not the type of dog to stick his head out the window, but he was nosey, so he would look to see what every sound was. He would sit on his butt with his feet out in front of him. Tongue out and everything.
He chased rabbits and frogs, barked at anyone walking by, and snored like he had a full time job at the lumberyard. He was spoiled. More than my children. By more than just me.
He loved and was loved.
He got sick. Coughing up blood, not eating, losing weight. Still feisty, still cuddly, but something was off. Vet said could be a number of things; maybe he got into something in the yard that didn’t agree with his stomach. Maybe, now that he’s getting older, he doesn’t like the food anymore.
Took him in for a visit. Did some tests, xrays, scans. Cancer. In his lungs. Days left, if we were lucky. It happened so quick, stunned is not the right word for what we were. Still are.
As a family we decided to put him down, so that we could be with him when he died. Thought it would be less traumatic than coming home one day and finding him laying, devoid of life. We chose that Friday. To give us the weekend to feel our emotions. We prayed and cried. He had no clue what was happening. The vet gave him a Reese’s…the chocolate couldn’t hurt him now.
…
…
…I miss him. I miss him being underfoot while I am cooking, waiting for me to drop something.
I miss him being at the top of the steps when I get home from school, looking at me with his head cocked like “where you been?”
I miss him trying to jump in my lap when I sit down, and trying to follow me into the bathroom.
I miss him laying across my feet, making it impossible for me to get up.
I miss laughing at his sneezes, and watching him when he got the zoomies (and praying he wouldn’t knock anything over!!).
I miss tug of war, and saying “Deacon, get DOWN.”
I miss mindless road trips with my Road Dog. I miss watching him play with the Kids, and have standoffs with the Husband.
Here’s an example of my overactive brain aka spiraling aka self diagnosed adhd aka my brain has too many tabs open (and I can’t figure out which one is playing music).
My husband is out of town. All of the following conversations happen in my brain in the span of about 7 minutes.
Can’t sleep because it’s weird he isn’t in the bed with me but also STARFISH- I get all the space and all the covers and no one snoring in my ear. But there are women who don’t have a husband anymore so I should appreciate mine. Reminds me, I should check on (enter husband less woman here) and see how she’s doing. But I really do need to appreciate my husband more. His love language is giving gifts so I should buy him something. But not too expensive because we have bills to pay and a vacation coming up. Oooh I need a bathing suit *opens amazon* but I’m supposed to buy something small to appreciate my husband *closes amazon*. Maybe I’ll mow the lawn before he gets back. That’s an act of service but could also be considered a gift of time? I wonder what the weather is gonna be this weekend *opens weather app.* *closes weather app* *realizing I forgot to actually check the forecast, opens weather app* OOF it’s gonna rain. Oh well, idk if the mower has gas anyway. What kind of gas goes in a mower? Just the regular stuff? I should probably know that. Let me add that to The List Of Questions I Need To Find Answers To. That list keeps growing instead of shrinking…I wonder if I have any of the answers yet to the other Questions On That List. Oh-but some of those questions are for (insert colleagues’ name). I should shoot them an email so I can get answers to these questions. But I don’t want them to know I’m up this late on a school night. I want to appear well rested even though if I fall asleep riiiiiight now, I’ll only really be getting 5 hours of sleep. Well, actually less than that. Oh its Draft day. Maybe I’ll surprise DH with something football related. But he won’t be home until Sunday and the draft will be over by then. Maybe I’ll have Sunday Dinner ready for when he gets home. I’ll go to Trader Joe’s and get flowers for the table. Who is Trader Joe, anyway?