Birthdays and the American Dream

When you are little, birthdays are more about the parents. I realized this when I didn't go a child's birthday party once. My thought process? The kid is one/two/three; he/she isn't going to remember. You know who will remember? The parents. I felt bad, really, really bad. They go to all lengths to throw a great party to celebrate the passing of a year, renting out places, jumping castles, and clowns (which half the kids are scared of) or Chuck E Cheese (which the other half are scared of) and cake that they proceed to let the kid smoother all over themselves. I hear stories about favors and see facebook posts about spending hoards of money and well, I don't get it; obviously, I am not a parent. And, yes, I know it is different when it is your kid and yes, I will one day look back at this and laugh when I have just rented a bouncy thingy, but remember this blog is before found "you" (yes, the you is vague for a reason and yes, I actually do want one of those little ones, so maybe there is a twinge of jealousy there as well). I am just saying, I believe that it is more for the parent than the child at a young age. Then comes elementary school where you bring cupcakes for all your classmates. This could be, perhaps, my favorite. You get to practice the art of giving. Look how happy everyone else is that it is your birthday. They cheer. They sing. They eat ice cream. Maybe it is brainwashing for the years to come but regardless, everyone loves a good piece of cake. I forgot about the presents. You get presents. Most kids love this part. Maybe that is why we make them bring cupcakes to share at school, to compensate for the presents (or is that what those little favor bags are for-what was ever in those?). At some point, we quit having parties, because we are too cool. I think that is around high school, but honestly, high school and early college are a bit of a blur for me past my 8th grade birthday when I got to have a girls and boys party... Thanks Mom. That was very daring of you. Dad probably took the night off for that one! Ok-I do remember that on every birthday my mom used to pick me up from school and take me out to lunch. That was pretty cool. I remember when I turned 11, my card said one-teen and I remember feeling so cool! Thanks, Mom. I feel like in high school, you always wanted to be older. The magic age was 13 because then you were a "teen"ager , then 16, then 18, then 21, then 25. Then SLOW DOWN. Well, you are okay with your age from 25-29 then STOP. I remember then last day of my 20s. I was at work and I was a wreck. I hid it well, I'm sure, because I went to the bathroom and cried. Then, I'm back to my happy self teaching about the American Dream, and how we can all have anything we want if we work hard enough and try hard enough. Yes, and no. (Really, think about it. I just gave a half hour lecture to 17 year olds on this, you can do it.) What is so big about hitting 30 and every year after that? Well, I think it is because we measure ourselves according to standards we cannot achieve. Society says by the age of 30 you should have accomplish what most of us can barely accomplish by the age of forty: advanced education, advanced family, house, two cars, stable income, travel etc. Ok, I admit it. I want all these things. I have checked a lot of things off of my list, and I actually I have checked off most things that I can accomplish. So, what is left? The things I can not control, you know, finding love and all... This is scary. I am a bit of a type A, so I like my life neat and in control. The American Dream says work hard enough, try hard enough and you can be anything you want to be. So, herein lies the disconnect. When you are younger, you are still reaching for the dream, wanting to be older, excited for the next year. At some point you realize the some parts of the American dream are elusive and unattainable by your own efforts. Pretty damn depressing, I know. Wait for it.... There are two definitions for "dream": A condition or achievement that is longed for; an aspiration. Something exceptionally gratifying, excellent, or beautiful. I opt for door number two. This is the year of my American Dream, an exceptionally gratifying, excellent, or beautiful year. Because, our destiny remains our choice.

Change

Why is it so hard to adapt to change? Funny thing is, I used to think I was soooo flexible and adaptable. Now, where THAT came from, who knows, because I am not (I wonder-Mom and Dad what I was like as a child). I get really flustered when plans changes. I mean, I have the ability to take a deep breath and deal with it, but it throws me off a little. That would be my off the chart "J" score on the Meyers Briggs for those of you that know about it. So, where am I going with this? Well, let's take a step back. This last weekend I was not feeling well, and just off, not quite myself. I found myself doing a lot of thinking; the kind in which you contemplate where you are in life (I do this a lot honestly). I have been teaching at the same school for almost ten years. I have traveled every spring or summer, I finally bought a condo. I live in this neat little box. Well, apart from the husband and two kids and the dogs...still working on those. But, regardless, a neat little box of a life. I have had the same group of girl friends for a while now, but things are changing now that they are married; it always does, but such is life. And it is good. Change is good. I wonder if sometimes those of us that resist change find ourselves stuck in a rut. I wonder, what does the next stage of my life hold? Will I be doing the same thing? Living in the same place? Have the same relationships? We sometimes resist the changes in life that are necessary to help us move into the next phase, whether that be a job, a relationship, a living situation... And yet, there is also value to accepting where you are in life as well. So, where is the line between complacency and contentment?

Meet the Folks

So last weekend, Dan met Mom and Dad. So, let me preface this entire post by saying I love you Mom! (yes, Dad, you too) Ok, so, I love my parents, but for anyone that knows Mom, she can be a bit of a challenge to introduce the new boy to (yes, Mom, you are). She is wonderful, giving, cares about anyone and everyone, and she loves her tea. But, Mom (how to say this delicately) well, just says it like it is. I don't know think she knows what filters are (do you, Mom?). I recall back in high school when I wanted to go out on a date, and she told the guy he had to read the entire book of John before he could take me out. So, that didn't happen (which, of course was her intention. Or, maybe it was to convert him. I can see her chuckling right now, and saying, while chuckling No! He wasn't good enough for you). So on Saturday, Dan met the folks, and I think it went as well as it possibly could go. We sat and had some tea and curry, sitting around the little white table in the kitchen I had grown up in. My Mom asked him questions about his family and how he was raised, about his beliefs and he answered them honestly and as best he could. I sat there intently trying to not "save" him and not be embarrassed at the same time. It was challenging, my emotions went back and forth so rapidly. (Mom, don't ask... no... You don't have to answer that... no.... oh....). But as I sat there wide eyed and mute, they seemed to just be engaging in conversation. So, overall, it seemed to go well, up until the very end when (Ok Mom, I know you meant well, but really?) my Mom took his hands and looked him dead in the eyes and said "I just have to ask you, are you playing the field? Or, are you serious about my daughter?" He was very polite and said,"I am serious about your daughter." But, of course, this was before I could jump in. Ok, so a little much. But, all in all, a good meet and greet, as far as meet and greets with my Mom go. So, what is the point of this rambling you may ask? This pattern over the years has been emerging in which the time it takes someone I am dating to meet the folks gets longer and longer, and I wonder why? My Mom is never going to change, and really do I want her to? No, of course not! (except maybe the playing the field comment) That night as we were leaving and we were "debriefing" I asked Dan how he thought it went and we laughed about the playing the field comment. He just said, "it is obvious that she just cares deeply about you and doesn't want you to get hurt, that's all. If I was playing the field, I wouldn't even be here." He made me realize also that who the guy is makes all the difference in the world. [Of course my mom asked if you were playing the field! She loves me! It takes someone that truly sees the big picture to see the love in a somewhat hilarious comment.] So, what it comes down to is that I think my family represents so much of who I am, my past, my present, my future. They know the true me, my core being. I think that when we let others into that core circle, we are exposing more of ourselves. That is what is scary. And that is what I run away from. And meet the folks, in many ways, becomes, meet me.

The First Day of School

The first day of school is always unnerving. It doesn't matter if you are a teacher or a student, if you are young or old. It makes you feel a bit like a child again. The nerves, the anxiety. But, is being a child really all that bad? I have been in school for 32 years now (wow, really?) and I still get nervous. I still lie awake the night before, and I still can never figure out if it is lie or lay, no matter how many times it is explained to me. I rehash what I am going to say (even though in reality I could do it in my sleep). Why do I psych myself out? I really think it has to do with two things: acceptance and the unknown. As much as we as teachers say it doesn't matter if kids like us, it does. I don't want them to be my friends, but I care that they like me as a person and think that I am a good teacher. We all place value in what others think to a degree. Not like I used to when I was younger, but to the extent that my feelings get hurt, sure. I think perhaps it is a bit of a learning curve; as teens we succumb to the pressures because we have no boundaries. Then we start building those boundaries, and sometimes never stop; they become these walls that then take years of therapy to tear down. So to have that childlike acceptance of others might not be such a bad thing in this world full of judgment and walls. The other thing that scares me about the first day is the unknown. What could happen? Yes! What COULD happen? As adults, we always seem to have a negative spin on our answer to this question. As a child, the answer is always magical. So, I hope as I get ready for my second day of school I can find a heart of acceptance for my students and the magic in the potential.

Who Are You?

This always reminds me of the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland or some deep contemplative question that might take a lifetime to answer. Ok, it also reminds me of the theme song for CSI, but somehow that doesn't seem as profound as Alice in Wonderland, go figure.

I am currently dating this guy Dan. I was very tempted at first to call him Habib (only a few of my friends would get this, but it was an attempt at anonymity, odd as it may seem). Regardless, I will call him Dan, because, well, his name is Dan, and somehow, that is almost more vague than Habib, and really, who cares because I really like him. I am not really going to talk much about the specifics of him right now (as much as my mother who I am sure is reading this would like) other than to say he is an amazing guy and nothing like a guy I would have "expected". I think for many years I have put guys in a box: student, finance, construction, medical, engineer, lawyer (notice how they are all labeled by their professions-but we do that don't we?). I have given them nicknames based on their attire or where I met them, but funny thing is, my friends always knew I really liked them when I called them by their name and not a nickname or a label. How many lists have I had in the past for what I wanted? Too many. I wanted them to be fit or I wanted them to be a surfer or I wanted them to have married parents or I wanted them to never have been married or I wanted them to not have kids or I wanted them to have traveled or I wanted them to... (you get the idea). I had these "wants" for various reasons and these reasons were all rational in their time. All of these continued to pose the question: who are you amazing, magnificent, man of my dreams? However, I am starting to think that what is most important is not a list of things I can check off, but instead a person who instead of making it about "him" is making it about "us". I think the checklist is about upping the odds. But really, what about the lottery? As Dan told me last night, someone has to win it! Why not us? (I'm hoping he doesn't cringe when I used his quote in this context) So: summary. I used to think it was about the things that someone did, the things you could check off a list. Now I think it is who they are, and who they are to you.

Day One

Today is the first day back at work after Christmas vacation. And, yes, according to my mother, it is Christmas vacation and not Winter break. I'm pretty sure she might have even gone to court or something over this when we were little. Or maybe that was about saying Bethlehem in the school musical. Regardless, this gives you a glimpse of my mother...ambitious. Anyway, the first day of the new year living in reality of the duldrums of wake up, go to work, go home, eat, work, shower, sleep. In the midst of this, well, actually, in the middle of one of my too long meetings today I found myself coming up with list of cliche resolutions. I found myself looking on my phone (yes, in the meeting, yes, bad teacher) for the 365 project...you know, a pic a day. I added this to my list of drink more water, eat more veggies, lose 15 pounds, run a half marathon. As you can see, I am ambitious, sound familiar? I long ago gave up on adding the find a husband. Somehow, adding that to the list every damn year would make me more and more of a failure; instead, in the past I have said things like date more, or make new friends, or fire old friends that are lame. Or join a dating website, or don't be so picky. Or, be MORE picky. So, you see, I have tried almost everything. So, when people say, "when the time is right, you'll meet him". Or "When you quit looking, he'll drop into your lap". Or, "He is out there, maybe you haven't______". Or "You know, the longer you wait to have kids, the harder it gets." I'm sure by now you are cringing, so I'll just stop. Because it makes me want to do far more than cringe. But, welcome to my life, my world. Last year was one of the worst years I have EVER had when it comes to the afore mentioned cliches, so you can imagine my joy when last year closed it's doors and I am welcoming 2011 with open arms. On my list this year is absolutely nothing to do with dating or with men in general, but instead, just me. So, when my sister told me she thought I was a good writer, which I am still not convinced of, I thought, why not hone those skills? Hence, day one. I originally wanted to call it "you have to kiss a lot of frogs", because well, honestly, I have, and I have a lot of good stories. But, she is right, it should be more about me and the frogs makes it more about them. After all, it is all about saving the princess.