Musings from the 2nd Grade Lunchroom

It's been many years since I attended elementary school.

I went to visit my favorite 2nd grader and accompany her to lunch.

Things look different than I remember, now that I see it through my 'Mom' eyes.

My heart took in a very interesting scene.

My girl is much like I was, grades came easy, friends at every desk, watch the clock til recess, sunshine and sparkles, apple for the teacher. My life was easy breezy beautiful and I could have been the cover girl for 2nd grade.

Now I see a different scene. Not everyone fits into my version of 2nd grade. I watch the crowd in Mrs. S's class.

She reads the book. They sit around her like groupies at a sold out show. Well, most of them do. Some pick the dirt from the bottom of their shoe, some stare into space with a look a look of faraway. A look that I don't remember knowing in 2nd grade. Some look, well... lost. Not lost in what page is next in the dinosaur saga, lost in, where do I fit in.

I'm intrigued.

Time for lunch.

The crowd moves through their routine like workers on an assembly line. They've only been here a few days, how did they get programmed so quickly, these little 'bots'.

Line up. Boys line, Girls line. no talking please. EVER.

What's it like to stand next to someone for several minutes and not be able to talk? Is that why we don't talk in elevators, because of the 2nd grade bathroom line?

For some, it's the chance to be the best. Watch me be the best not talker, straight line walker you've ever seen. For some, it's more round peg, square hole. Some don't walk in straight lines, or want to be just with the boys. Some just don't fit in. Those are told to 'shush!' Get in line. That's it, you lose a star.

Some hang their head in shame when they lose a star. They wanted that star. Or mom will yell when they bring home that sheet minus the star. "Why was it I wanted that star again?" some ask.

Some don't care. Stars are so far from their world, they live in their own universe. A much more colorful one, one with better planets and comets and things that make stars look lame.

Onto the lunchroom. More straight lines.

At the back of the line is the rumpled hair and shirt kid. You know the one. My eyes meet his and this time I see him as a mom. Not the easy breezy 2nd grade girl that doesn't understand why you wouldn't comb your hair before school. I want to stand up, reach out and put my arms around this kid and tell him he's the best I've ever seen. But I can't, he's too busy. Busy, Busy, Busy. He's busy looking here and there and trying to stand still and trying not to push that kid in front of him but it's too tempting and he just has to. Just to see what will happen. Not hard, just to get a fun game going, I'll push you and you push me and that means we're friends. That means we're boys.

Like moth to a flame, here she comes, the lunch lady, she sniffs out the "I'm about to push someone" from across the chicken patty filled room. She leans down to rumpled hair boy and scolds him for what he is and what he isn't and everyone looks, "Yep, he's in trouble again."

I want to stand up and say, "look people, I'm a huge fan of order but all of a sudden this looks like a scene out of Stepford Wives in training. Could we all just let loose for a few minutes and talk and joke and not walk in a straight line! Enough with the straight line!"

My heart begins to ache because across town in the 6th grade lunch room is my other Gift from God and he's not a straight line walker. He's a lego building fast talker. He's the one who's already calculated a way better plan for all of this but isn't allowed to share it because it's not his turn to talk. By the time it is his turn to talk he will have moved on to a new plan. He can't wait for them to catch up. He's the one smarter than the rest and still getting tapped on the shoulder being told to pay attention while he's dreaming about how to save the world.

As the entire lunchroom scrapes their broccoli and cheese into the trash I am still thinking about my "bigger universe" guy. I'm going to be a better mom and let him save the world. The best straight line walkers show up to work telling everyone else why the other ways are wrong.

My bigger universe guy will text in to his Virtual Assistant to have straight line walker fired while he goes back to curing cancer and finding a way to save our planet.

Time to re-affirm my heart and my parenting for the boy. Lunchroom relalignment that not everyone sees the world like a straight line walking 2nd grade girl. My boy see it differently. The boy that God gave to me. Time to remind him that the greatest solutions to the world's biggest problems haven't been solved by walking in a straight line to the bathroom.

*Disclaimer. I love good teachers, I could never do their job, I get that the budgets are low and classes are big. I'm not judging, just observing and re-framing my parenting gig.

The Wasp and the Ohm

How many times have you found yourself grounded, centered, relaxed, only to be swatting at something buzzing around your head?

Today, Day 3 of my 'Staycation' I was alone (sort of) on the deck. Thinking, mediating, praying. This vacation is long overdue so it has taken 3 days to get relaxed. Just when I feel my shoulders dropping to where they are meant to be, and my breath start to slow and my thoughts start to wander, a wasp starts buzzing around my head.

At first I attempt to ignore it. It flies away and then circles back almost Kamikaze-like toward my face. I live with it for a minute or two more and then finally, completely distracted, I go inside.

Isn't life like that.....fairly often? We finally get ourselves relaxed, happy, enjoying the moment and someone or something swoops in changing the whole scene and creating a bit of chaos. With the wasp, it creates fear, frustration, uncertainty, and aggravation. The same holds true for people and circumstances in our lives. They come buzzing mostly out of fear, frustration, uncertainty, and aggravation.

I choose to believe that the wasp has no true malicious intent. It is simply unsure of us and our motive and is protecting itself and it's territory. After all, I didn't interpret the buzzing sound to be saying, "Stop trying to relax you evil human. I'll show you relax.... buzzzz" with stinger ready to impart hurt and damage.

I guess I'll choose to believe that most humans don't have a malicious intent when they knock us off center. Likely, they are also trying to protect themselves and their territories.

What if we all stopped buzzing for a moment and just stopped.....

Stopped to listen, read, hear and understand. Not to hear our words. Words are confusing and leave way too much to interpretation. What if we stopped to listen to each others heart? Our breath? Our feelings?

What if always assumed goodwill and never malicious intent? Sure, once in awhile we'd get hurt and disappointed. But mostly wouldn't we match the feeling of tensions releasing, slow and steady breathing and finally feeling relaxed?

Maybe we wouldn't feel the need to keep our own stinger sharpened or to have our fly swatter handy for whatever buzzed in our ears.

It's a bug's life - May 30th 2009

The Angels in My House

Repost in honor of Mother's Day


No doubt the days can be long and hard,

Early to rise, late to rest,

Few minutes to stop and breathe.

Lunches to pack, errands to run,lists, lists, lists.

Squabbles and tantrums, skinned knees, bruised egos, are daily fare.

Some days I wonder how much more can I bare? How much more should I care?

Sometime after the sun finally sets and the moon is watching, I labor the stairs and the final remains of the day.

I step over a basket of laundry, dirty or clean, it's hard to say.

The teddybear princess lies thrown to the floor waiting for tomorrow to bring her back to life.

On the final stair, I turn and greet the angels in my house.

They lie nestled and snuggled,their round faces dreaming of what might be.

No struggles, no skinned knees.

Quiet beautiful angels, that God has given to me.

I brush a cheek , kiss a forehead, and linger there a bit.

It's there in the presence of angels, I see how it all fits.

It's there that I breathe and am reminded that these angels are my gifts.

They're to teach me, test me, mold me and show me how beautiful life can be.

It's then that I finally lay my head down and thank Him for sending these angels to me.

Tomorrow I will try harder, be more patient, and work to deserve the angels in my house.

We run because.......

The human spirit was alive and well today. 35,000 human spirits and their families, alive and well. Between the jugglers, the fireman, and the banana suit, were the mothers with their dauthers, the daughters with their fathers. Those that run for those that they miss. Shirts that say, We love you mom. We won't forget. Those that run and strengthen their friendships.

In a sea of legs and running shoes, were the triumphs and the personal bests, and those just short of what they hoped for. Spirits that set goals and achieved them. By achieving those goals their spirits grow bigger. They lie down tonight and know they can. They can achieve. They can push their limits and their bodies past the point they thought was possible. So tonight they may limp and move a little slower but they smile knowing they set out, and they achieved. Together.

I am.....

a writer, a mother, a wife, a bother, a friend, a daughter, a hero, a failure, a dreamer, a doer, a runner, a mover, a shaker, a great money maker, a child of God, an explorer, a homemaker, a milk drinker, a wine drinker, a great apple pie maker, lover of french fries and cheeseburgers, and blue cheese, and all things salty that crunch.

I am not....
a complainer, a whiner, a quitter, a slacker, a slob, a fashion statement, a political statement, a hero, a zero......