Seems like so much funny, good, awkward stuff has happened this week that I should probably write it down. I mean, a week that starts off with the following question from a SS member has to be a good one: " has anyone ever told you that you look like Brooke Shields?" Seeee, this is why I love my job!
It got better from there. I got my official job offer from Piedmont College to teach this fall: Rhetoric and Composition first term and and Literature and Composition second term. I know. I'm a nerd. Billy reminds me all the time. Love this job, too.
Today, after teaching 3 classes, playing tennis, and swimming 20 laps, I wearily walked in to teach my 4th class of the day to hear: "oh you're subbing? I love it when you sub!" I perked right up and I swear my muscles stopped aching. At least for the 45 minutes of the class, anyway:-)
Following the class, one of my members asked about the kids, then expounded on what she saw in Tucker's future: Senator. Hmmm? "Yep," she says. "With that personality and smile (not to mention those baby blues), he's a shoo-in to be a leader of people." I guess I'm not doing a half bad job, based on that assessment of one of my three kids.
On another awkward note, I got my new driver's license in the mail, and after glancing down at it, Tucker says, "no offense Mom, but your head looks kinda big here." Umm, none taken?
And for the big finale, the final she-bang, Tate and I killed a snake. Or, I killed the snake and he stood by and cheered me on as I went all psycho with my shovel. Imagine me huffing and puffing with each thrust, yelling, "Gotcha, Gotcha" until the poor thing coiled up into its severed pieces and surrendered. So far Tate has had no adverse reactions to what he witnessed. Fingers crossed. I thought running a 10K got my adrenaline pumping. That was nothing compared to chopping up an (innocent, I found out later) intimidating creature trying to slither his way into my garage and my life.
So, as summer gets under way, I can't IMAGINE what's in store for the Kirks. No doubt there will be a lot more of the good, the funny, and the just plain awkward. Stay Tuned, Y'all!
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Saturday, May 11, 2013
"If you bungle raising your kids, I don't think anything else you do well really matters."
I have no doubt in my mind that my mom loved every minute of being a mom, even the rough times. I never doubted that 3 kids within five years was her master accomplishment, her dream come true, her purpose and her gift. I don't know how she did it sometimes; she had no help-- no grandparents, no money for babysitters, only a husband who worked often and hard. But she never complained. I never doubted that finagling private school tuition, carpooling, cooking hot breakfasts, packing lunches, and whipping up Cracker Barrel meals each night was her forte. I once heard an intern at her office ask her what she had wanted to be when she got out of school. Without hesitation she answered, "A Mom." I'm so glad she did.
Yep, I didn't then and I don't now have any doubts that what must have been long years, long days sometimes were all that she had asked for and she wouldn't have traded it for anything. And this Mother's Day 2013, I hope three little Kirk boys will say the same thing.
I hope they know that spending every evening at the baseball field, football stadium, or basketball gym until way past bedtime is so much better than American Idol or Duck Dynasty reruns.
I hope they know that every brown bag lunch I pack is packed specifically for each boy. I take the time to make each one's sandwich just as he likes it, with snacks particular to each T. And when they tell me how good their lunch was at pick up, I feel like a million bucks.
I hope they know that report card day, test score day, awards day are days that make me giddy.
I hope they know that carpooling with elementary school jokes echoing from the backseat makes me giggle more than some of the best Facebook posts.
I hope they know that their sweet faces at night, once they've drifted off to sleep, are enough to wipe the slate clean, forget the "rough" parts of the day, and focus only on those precious little personalities.
I hope they know that every pitch in the backyard, every stray ball to the shin I take, I take with joy. I could pay someone to teach you how to pitch, shoot, or throw a football. But I'm too selfish for that.
I hope they know that folding their first Power Ranger undies to middle school boxer shorts reminds me that time is moving quickly. When I see that the youth large t-shirts have been replaced by an Adult Small, I have to catch my breath.
I hope one day when I've added grandmother to my roles in life, my tall, handsome, grown up boys can look back with confidence and say, "My mom loved being a Mother." And then launch into some great story of the four of us, doing something that at the time seemed small, but was big enough to become a memory.
Yep, I didn't then and I don't now have any doubts that what must have been long years, long days sometimes were all that she had asked for and she wouldn't have traded it for anything. And this Mother's Day 2013, I hope three little Kirk boys will say the same thing.
I hope they know that spending every evening at the baseball field, football stadium, or basketball gym until way past bedtime is so much better than American Idol or Duck Dynasty reruns.
I hope they know that every brown bag lunch I pack is packed specifically for each boy. I take the time to make each one's sandwich just as he likes it, with snacks particular to each T. And when they tell me how good their lunch was at pick up, I feel like a million bucks.
I hope they know that report card day, test score day, awards day are days that make me giddy.
I hope they know that carpooling with elementary school jokes echoing from the backseat makes me giggle more than some of the best Facebook posts.
I hope they know that their sweet faces at night, once they've drifted off to sleep, are enough to wipe the slate clean, forget the "rough" parts of the day, and focus only on those precious little personalities.
I hope they know that every pitch in the backyard, every stray ball to the shin I take, I take with joy. I could pay someone to teach you how to pitch, shoot, or throw a football. But I'm too selfish for that.
I hope they know that folding their first Power Ranger undies to middle school boxer shorts reminds me that time is moving quickly. When I see that the youth large t-shirts have been replaced by an Adult Small, I have to catch my breath.
I hope one day when I've added grandmother to my roles in life, my tall, handsome, grown up boys can look back with confidence and say, "My mom loved being a Mother." And then launch into some great story of the four of us, doing something that at the time seemed small, but was big enough to become a memory.
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