Looking Up

Not sure what that constellation is called? I can probably tell you. Want to know what the weather will be this week? I'm your gal. It's to the point that Is.aac no longer bothers to watch the weather reports. He just asks me.

As a kid, I spent hours lying on the grass searching for shapes in the clouds and watching them float by. I read book after book about the sky. I did research reports on the weather for fun. (Yes, I was one of those kids in school. lol) One of my favorite childhood gifts was a telescope. I wanted to grow up and be a meteorologist, even! I loved all things to do with the sky and weather.

I still do.

Last summer was the first time the boys were at a point where I could take them outside so we could look up at the sky together. We had so much fun creating stories about the shapes we saw in the clouds.

Since then, they've discovered the weather app on my phone. They check it several times a week to see what the weather will be like, and then they verify the accuracy of the information every morning on our way to work/my mom's house.

For Christmas, the boys got their first telescope. For a number of reasons, we've not yet used it. We have using it for the first time on our summer bucket list. I don't know who is more excited about it, them or me.

I can't wait to see them looking up at the stars like I did as a child. I hope they love it just as much as I did. Who knows? Maybe they'll have aspirations of being a meteorologist, too. :)

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This is the fourth part of the writing challenge. Thanks to Ellen for another fun writing topic. :)

What Drives Me Crazy

Effort is needed to accomplish pretty much everything in life.

Some things usually only need a bit of extra effort. Going to Target, for instance, is a simple task that we do regularly. The only extra step we have to take for our family to enjoy this outing is to hunt around the parking lot for the large carts with the attached extra front seats. (And then we have to sterilize them from top to bottom because ew.) It may take us a few minutes to locate one, but once we have, we are okay. It's easy peasy unless there are no extra front seat carts. Then it gets to be challenging, and I will admit that I have actually done some crazy configurations to get the entire family into the store when I'm on my own.

Some things we do need more effort. Planning longer trips, like the one we just took to SeaWorld, can never really be a thing we do on a whim. It takes a lot of research to ensure that we are set up for success. Coordinating schedules and doctor appointments/therapies is another area where we need to put forth more energy. The thing is, we do what needs to be done to make sure everyone in our family is able to have their needs met and enjoy life.

For the most part, extending extra effort for everyday things is just the way it is. I'm okay with that because I don't really think we're any different from any other family in that regard. I want to believe most families have to extend some sort of effort toward different areas of their lives, but I guess I don't really know that for sure.

So it probably isn't surprising that it drives me crazy when people are unwilling to make an effort to do things that they'd like or need to do, especially when there are no major physical or mental obstacles before them.

People who make excuses for others so they do not have to work (or be responsible for something) boggle my mind.

People who are smart but so lazy they won't try to learn frustrates me to no end. 8th graders are notorious for this kind of behavior.

People who want to do something but make no effort to do that thing because it seems "hard" (and then complain about it) make me want to scream.

Maybe it bothers me to see people not even try because things are not always easy for us. Maybe it is just because that is not how I think about life in general. I do know it pains me to see people, who have everything going for them, do nothing at all.

It reminds me of a quote I have posted on my classroom wall: "Hard work  (effort)spotlights the character of people: some turn up their sleeves, some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at all." ~Sam Ewing

In our family we push up our sleeves, and I like it that way.

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This is the third part of the writing challenge. Thanks to Ellen for another fun writing topic. :)

Watching Through A Window

Every summer during my elementary school years, I was lucky enough to go summer camp for ten days. The first year I went, the summer before I went into second grade, I was the youngest camper in the group. I loved being there by day, but by night I was miserable. I felt like such a little baby because I missed home so badly it hurt and I cried for hours each night at bed time.

After the third night of this, a sweet counselor took pity on my pathetic soul and came to sit with me in my bunk. (I'd like to think that the counselors took pity on me each night, but only this night really stands out in my memory now.) She held my hand and told me stories, essentially easing me into slumber with her words. Oh how I loved that counselor!

Early on during our nightly talks, she taught me a hand signal. Three quick squeezes of your hand equalled three important words - I. Love. You. I thought it was our secret sign. That counselor would see me throughout the day and come check on me. Before she'd move on, she give my hand the signal and I'd feel like all was right in the world.

(Okay. Now that I think about it, it sounds a tiny bit creepy. It totally wasn't.)

Three squeezes for three words. I. Love. You. I've taught every important person in my life, including my boys, that hand signal. I love the ability to be able to communicate that sentiment to the ones I love.

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When my nieces and nephew were little, of course I taught them the hand signal. They loved the signal just as much as I did as a kid, so they were often squeezing my hands at every chance.

One day, Is.aac and I were out on a date at a local restaurant. My brother, sister-in-law, and their kids happened to be at the same restaurant, but we didn't see them until they were on their way out. They came to our table to say hello. We chatted for a bit before my sil hurried everyone toward the door.

My nephew, who was about six at the time, was in the middle of telling me about what happened at school when his mom decided it was time to go. He was rushed out the door without having the chance to even really say goodbye.

A few moments later, we watched through the window as they walked past on their way toward their car. My nephew saw me, stopped, held out his hand, and squeezed the air twice before my brother grabbed a hold of him to make him move. (My brother did not understand the gesture, having not been let in on the secret.) The last thing I saw was his arm reaching back to give me that last air squeeze.

Three squeezes for three words. I. Love. You. The memory of his arm up, squeezing air while my brother dragged him away, makes me laugh every single time I think about it, even after all these years sixteen years later.

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This is the second part of her writing challenge. Thanks to Ellen for another fun writing topic. :)

In My Pocket

I was never what you would call a superstitious person. I had no problem walking under ladders or seeing black cats. I thought the hoopla over it all was pretty silly.

After we found ourselves struggling to conceive, little superstitions started to creep into my routine. I started wishing on the clock when the numbers were the same. "Please let us have a baby," I'd think. I had lucky socks to wear to appointments. I had socks I couldn't wear again because they had the misfortune of being on me the days I miscarried. I carried the first baby related purchase I made, a pair of baby socks, in my purse. I even had a crystal "fertility" bracelet, which I carried with me at all times, usually in my pocket. While I didn't think that those little rituals would be the answer to our issues, I surely felt like it couldn't hurt. Who was I to say what did or did not influence the universe?

Over time, the trinkets were one by one abandoned. The socks are now in the back of my drawer. The baby socks were washed and put in the boys' closet. I'll admit to still occasionally wishing on the clock, but now the wishes are for health and happiness of the ones I love.

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The other day, Jack squirted his fruit pouch contents all over my jacket. I was about to head out on an errand, so I took it off and grabbed a different jacket from the closet as I left.

Halfway through Target is when I found it. It was no longer as shiny and a little yellower than I remembered, but the bracelet was still in my pocket after all this time.

I stopped in the middle of Target looking at this forgotten symbol of my family building. I'm sure it must have seemed funny to the other shoppers, a strange woman caressing a silly old bracelet in the middle of the cat food aisle. But there I stood for several minutes while I fingered the glass beads much in the same way I did at countless RE appointments. 

I slid the bracelet back into my pocket. I have since transferred the bracelet to my usual jacket's pocket.

I am not ready to let go of the hope of another child. And while I know that this small gesture will likely have no impact on the outcome of our family building, I couldn't resist.

It definitely can't hurt.

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This is part of a writing prompt challenge. Thank, Ellen for the topic!