The Long Way Home

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Time. I've always been one to think of various things in relation to time whether it be in terms of seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, or years. I'm not sure why my mind works this way, but I often think of blocks of time as being repetitive. For example: 'I have been on the treadmill for twenty minutes. I plan to run (who am I kidding?) walk for an hour, so I have to repeat what I've already done two more times.'  I can remember as early as first grade caring very much about how much time it took me to complete a task, particularly compared to others. My fourth grade teacher wrote a poem about our class at the end of the school year, and the line about me read, 'Melissa always finishes first.'  As many folks do, I often look back at previous years and recollect what I was doing at a certain time: 'On this day last year, I was nine months pregnant and anxiously awaiting the birth of my Murphy Girl!'
It's funny how portions of time can seem longer or shorter depending on the activities that are consuming the time. An hour, for example, can fly by during a great movie or a fabulous evening with friends. That exact same amount of time can creep along when lying on a hospital bed waiting to be wheeled into the operating room for a c-section. An hour sitting in bumper to bumper traffic on a Friday afternoon after a long work week felt like an eternity and left me feeling frustrated and impatient. Nowadays, I've found myself taking the long way just to get us home a few minutes closer to bedtime.
Take last Wednesday, for example. Carter finished ballet at 5:15 PM, and since her class is just a couple blocks from Hubby's office, I decided to pop by with the girls for a late afternoon visit. After what felt like four hours, I looked at the clock to see that it was 5:32. I killed a few more minutes and then loaded the girls up in the car. I knew that I was flying solo for dinner/bedtime, so I was in no hurry to get home. As we sat in traffic at a dead stand-still, Carter said, 'Mommy, are you going to take a short-cut?' I slightly smiled and silently laughed to myself.  I knew that I could easily turn off the main road, take a few side streets, and likely get us home in half the time, but a short cut was the LAST thing Mommy would be taking. We made it home at around 6:20 (for a point of reference, Murphy goes to bed at 7:00, sharp), and when I looked at the clock what felt like hours later, it read 6:24.
I blink my baby girl is turing one and my big girl is such a person. I wonder where the days went and beg the hands of time to stand still, yet it can feel like I've lived an entire week by 9:23 AM on a Monday.  I read a quote on my friend Corinda's blog that so accurately explains this phenomenon. Slightly paraphrased, it read, 'For Mothers of young children the years do indeed fly, but you can gag on a day!' As darkness is coming earlier and winter is drawing near which is sure to bring lots of snow days, I may need to remember to savour hot cocoa, cozy blankets, and snuggles... and hide all the clocks!

What We Gonna Do Today?

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Each morning for Carter begins quite similarly: she wakes up around 8 and eagerly calls my name; for some reason she has never thought of getting out of her bed or leaving her room herself. Murphy and I burst into her room and greet her with a cheerful made-up song, 'Good morning to you, my sweet little Pooks!' Immediately, she asks, 'What we gonna do today? Pymnastics? Aspen Academy? Chick-fil-a with Pierce?'
As her little schedule has gotten a bit busier, I've been trying to think of a fun way to show her what each day will entail. I did a bit of online searching for ideas and couldn't find much beyond typical calendars. Since Carter's only three and a half, I wanted something that would be fun, interactive, and not require reading.
Since Hubby is traveling for work, tonight was the perfect time to get busy on my project. Several folks responded with interest and positive comments on my Little Things Project, so I thought I'd share details of how this one came together, too.
Once I had a fairly clear mental idea of what I wanted to do, I made the only logical first stop: The Container Store. Here I picked up several necessary pieces to begin my project: a white magnetic tabletop dry erase board, a magnetic bin to hold the activity cards, dry erase pens, adhesive magnetic squares, and a magnetic dry eraser.

Then I ran by Target for some photo paper to use on my home printer and some self-sealing laminating paper. The last item I needed was some card-stock, and at home I had some nifty, glittery pad left over from a project I did last fall. 
Once I had compiled all the necessary supplies, I tucked my girls in bed and got busy. I went through my digital photos to find ones that best depicted various activities. (I had to do a little bit of Google Image searching for a couple pictures.) I then printed them out, glued them to the card stock (which I had cut to exactly 4"x6" so that the laminating process would be simple), and wrote the name of the activity on the card. 
Rather than making 'playdate' cards for each
of her friends, I used a group shot from her birthday.
It's funny that flying is such a 
pertinent part of her young life.

Here's a look at all of the completed activity cards; each has a two magnetic squares attached to the back.

I love the way I turned what's essentially just a daily calendar into something much more fun, and I can't wait to show it to Carter in the morning! 

(Of course, I've already thought of lots activities I missed when making the cards... holidays, special treat days, snow days, throwing pennies in the fountain days, splashing in puddles days... But, since it's nearly midnight, and  I have not even begun to think about packing or writing sitter instructions for a weekend trip Hubby and I are taking tomorrow, I suppose the completion of this project will have to wait till another day.)

When the World Stopped Turning

Sunday, September 11, 2011

On September 10, 2001, I had never heard the word Taliban, never heard of Al-Qaeda, had no idea who Osama Bin Laden was, and likely couldn't have formulated a clear definition of a terrorist. I had just turned twenty three and was copping a squat of sorts at a friend's house while trying to decide whether I was going to pursue a full time job in Charlotte, move to another city, or prepare to apply for graduate school. I was single for the first time in a few years and really had no one to consider in my decisions but myself. I was working full time as a nanny and part time as a waitress. Overall, life was pretty simple.
Having fallen asleep while watching a movie on the sofa, I woke up in the living room on the morning of September 11, 2001. My roommate walked in the house at around 9:30 in the morning, an odd time for her to be at home since she worked a regular 9-5 job. She came in and asked if I'd had the television on. I hadn't; but immediately we turned it on and watched, together, the devastation that was imminently occurring in New York City, Washington, DC, and later in a Pennsylvania field.
For me, and for most folks of my generation, this was the first we had ever seen of war; certainly of war on our home soil. I have memories of Operation Desert Storm which took place in the early 90's, but that was different. It happened 'over there.' In fact, prior to that morning the only real pieces of history that I'd felt a part of were the Challenger space shuttle exploding (I was in second grade), the O.J. Simpson chase and trial (I was a junior in high school), and perhaps the collapse of the Berlin Wall. The only history I knew was what I'd read in books and been taught in school. But, on that Tuesday morning, I knew that I was watching history unfold right before my eyes, in real time, on live television.
What I remember most about that day and the days that followed, was the unified feeling of all humanity. I have such a clear image of driving down interstate 85 heading towards downtown Charlotte on the afternoon of the attack. It felt as if every car I passed, every set of eyes I met, could feel my feelings and, I, theirs. We were one. We were all Americans, and for those of us who'd never taken a moment to think about what that meant, this was our time. Despite our political leanings, we all looked to our President for reassurance and comfort, and he provided the image of a strong and steadfast leader. On the Friday after the attacks, I stood on the sidewalk with a precious little four year old friend holding a candle in memory and honor of those who were killed or for those who lost those they loved. I tried to explain to her why we were participating in this vigil without imparting any fear into her innocent little mind.
As time passed, life did return to normal, but normal was never the same again. We, as a country, had to learn the difference between Muslims and Extremists and strive to treat people of all religions with dignity and respect. At the same time, we had to  become vigilant. As we all hailed the passengers of United Flight 93 as heros, we became sure that we, too, would risk our own lives for the sake of our county. We began to take notice of things that looked just a bit off, particularly in airports and on planes. Nearly, ten years after that life changing day, we felt a slight sense of relief as President Barack Obama informed the nation that Osama Bin Laden was captured and killed.
Ten years ago today, I could have never imagined how amazing my life would be. In late 2001, I made the decision to pursue my graduate degree and in 2004 earned a Master's in Counseling. I worked as a counselor for several years, and, along the way, I met the man who would become my husband. We spent a year living in Dallas before setting up a home and a life in Denver. Today we are happy and healthy and raising two beautiful little girls.
As I woke up this morning, like all Americans, my mind went back to that morning that changed our nation. I said a prayer for all those families who lost loved ones and, especially, for all the children who have lived their lives without knowing a parent. I squeezed my own girls a little tighter with a feeling of gratefulness: grateful both for the wonderful life that we have and for the country in which we abide which is a safer place than it was ten years ago. I've written this blog for my girls: for when they are old enough to understand and seek to hear my perspective on a little piece of history.
God Bless America. 
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