Musings on Motherhood, or Happy Mother's Day To Me!

I couldn't decide at first how to title this one, considering that I came at it from the angle of "Things that make me happy" and most of them had to do with my kids, so I made it into my Mother's Day blog and I think it really hits the spot. This coming Sunday, moms will wake up to breakfast in bed (that they will eventually have to clean up), bottles of perfume (that have a very good chance of being spilled on the carpet), beautiful earrings (that will inadvertently be yanked out as she wrestles an unwilling toddler into his car seat), and an entire day that is "all about Mom." Who wouldn't want that? Apparently, a lot of folks.

A recent study looked at whether people WITH children or people WITHOUT children were happier. Sorry, I didn't get the results--my mind was stuck on the statement people without children; are there really grown adults out there with diplomas, mortgages, and spouses who don't have children? Interesting. . .
No high chairs clogging up the kitchen?
No potty chairs in the bathroom to trip over?
No sippy cups with days (weeks?) old milk hiding in the sofa cushions?
No PTO meetings to attend?
No lost sunglasses, remote controls, or cell phones that doubled as baby rattles in a pinch?
No science fair projects at the last minute? No parent-teacher conferences every quarter? agendas to sign daily?
No Legos to step on in bare feet?
No taking baths with mini sailboats and tiny dinosaurs tickling my nether regions? No baseball practices to sit through on rainy summer afternoons?
No football games on icy cold, windy Saturday mornings?
No jerseys, cleats, hats, gloves, mouthpieces to find as we are in the car, engine running?

Really?

No one to help you crack the eggs on Sunday mornings or stir the pancake batter, chair pulled up close to the counter?
No one to say, "I love you, Princess" as I leave his room for the night?
No one to exceed on all areas of the CRCT state test?
No one to cheer for as he hits a doozy of a line drive right past the shortstop's head?
No one to ask me how old I was when Kennedy was shot?
No kindergartner to read signs and billboards and cardboard books for the first time, giddier than me even in his own progress?
No constant reminder of how handsome his daddy's blue eyes are?
No treasure chest full of premature onesies, favorite blankies, and "coming home" outfits?

I'll have to check on the results of that survey, but I'm confident in my answer. I am a happier gal with messy bathrooms, a disaster of a mini-van, a backyard full of all things Tonka, and a full heart (and home) every night.

Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow, Part Two

Well, it had to come to an end--12 weeks of quizzes, tests, computer lab, fire drills, literature, and more flew by and yesterday was my last day as a high schooler. Which means that today was my first day back to my old life, and sweet as it was to have lunch in a room free of copy machines and coffee makers(every teacher has her own), I felt a little mischievous cruising the streets before 3:45, kind of like a truant senior on skip day. Hard to believe just months ago I was lamenting the return to the world of academia and counting the days until I could return to my "normal" life. Twelve weeks later, I'm not sure I know what normal is.

I know people who look at me as if I have three heads when I mention I teach high school, either that or I get the look of pity that screams, "thank you for your service," as if high school were somehow equivalent to daily ambush on a battle field in a high security war zone. Those folks don't know what they are missing.

I love reading vocabulary sentences where I am the main topic, consistently referred to as Miss Kirk, despite the fact that Mr. Kirk could be found two halls over.

I love hearing how awesome and pretty I am, never mind the fact the compliments always came on the day of a major test.

I love being confidant to a junior girl on the brink of her first major crush, sharing in all the innocence of first love.

Cheerleading drama. Enough said. I have no daughters, so I fulfill all my high school girl drama with other people's kids.

Challenges: "Hey, Mrs. Kirk, you think you could outrun me?" Sorry, hun. I realize Georgia Tech is recruiting you, but if it's me and you and a 12 miler, I WILL WIN! Alas, all good things must come to an end, which means now I seek my compliments from my Senior Citizens instead of the senior class of 2012; instead of making surreptitious laps around the lunchroom to keep up with the latest styles in clothing, music, and gadgets, I'm forced to do real research so my own kids think I'm naturally "cool." The only running challenge I have is the guy with the artificial leg, and even I couldn't be that cocky; and my own elementary boys are beginning to be creeped out by my incessant questions on cheerleader tryouts, gossip, and fifth grade relationships. All I can say (and i say it with a smile) is "You can take the girl out of the high school, but you can't take the high school out of the girl." Now don't forget to vote for me for Prom Queen, er, Teacher of the Year!

He Out-punted his Coverage, and I got GREAT field position!

I was leaving the gym this morning after a great run and an even better swim, when I heard a member of the body-building set inquiring at the front desk as to whether our dear Y might have any athletic tape. Hmmm . . . "Sir, I have some right here. Take as much as you need." Well his eyes just about glazed over and he laughed, saying, "I guess you never know when you might need to wrap an ankle," because in case y'all haven't seen me in a while, I don't exactly scream "Weightlifter" or "serious athlete" when one gets a glance at me in my tennis duds. There are some things that all moms need to carry on them at all times: wipes, juice boxes, epi pens. I just happen to carry a few "different" accessories in order to make sure my days go smoothly. I can't count the number of times I've pulled out my roll to quell a squealing toddler as he motions to some obscure boo-boo that can ONLY be fixed with the same tape daddy uses. Tape works for so much more than curing wounds and tears, too. I've gift wrapped last minute packages with my leftover rolls, created numbers on the backs of blank t-shirts, and re-gripped my tennis racket in a pinch. So the fact that I ALWAYS carry a roll of athletic tape and pre-wrap in my Gucci bag really shouldn't come as too much of a surprise when one finds out I am married to a football coach, as I explained to the gentleman at the Y desk today. I also have a shiny, silver coaches' whistle-- and I'm not afraid to use it. Coach always jokes to people that he "out-punted his coverage" when he married me, and I'll be honest, it took me about 4-5 seasons before I really understood what that meant. I knew it was a compliment, but I hadn't quite deciphered the difference between a kicker and a punter at that point, so I just stood there smiling, proud of my husband/coach and all the information and fancy words in that bald head of his. Thirteen years into this marriage/career, I've got this bull by the horns. *When Coach says he's gonna be late tonight because he's lining the field, I quickly ask, "you got plenty of yarn and a screwdriver?" *I realized that sometimes coaches need to mow the field more than the field needs to be mowed. *I FINALLY figured out what trips means, and now I can scream it with the rest of the staff when I see a blitz coming(?). *I know spring football (or two a days, or 7-on-7) is coming soon when the text messages coming in from players keep me awake at night. *During the season (when he's home) when I make a dinner that he kind of turns his nose up at, I know right then and there that he's probably had it for pre-game meal one too many times already. *When he tells me that practice will be over at 6:00, y'all, I know he's not going to be home at 6:30. And that's OK. *I know the difference between running the spread and the quarterback option. I know how to defend it too. (Sort of). Most of all I know now, especially, that football is a year round sport that takes tons of time, energy, talent, smarts, and backbone, not to mention thick skin. I know that sometimes teams win and sometimes they don't. Some parents are nice; others are not. Some coaches work hard; others work hardly at all. I know that winning is more fun than losing; that playing (and watching) in the rain and cold is way better when the concession stand sells hot chocolate. I know that road games are fun, but nothing beats a win in front of a home crowd. And because of all this I know for a fact that nothing beats the life of a football coach and his wife.