Love Song of a Working Momma

My sweet little Lolabug:

You're just finishing your first week of daycare, and I'll be back at work full-time next week.

 

Everyone said the first days of daycare would be an adjustment.  And they have been. But you're trying, I think, and your daycare people are doing their best to make us feel at home.

1st Day Welcome Sign



An email sent by sweet people this week!

But still, there's that twinge of mommy guilt -- amid the well-intentioned voices that say a momma should stay home, that suggest a baby thrives best with momma, that make me hope you won't grow up thinking some job was more important than you. (Because that isn't true.)

 

During a time of thinking and praying this summer, as I tried to be open to the idea that I might be called away from work, a precious friend spent time with me and told me that she believed God can call us to more than one thing at a time. She believed I was needed both as your momma and as a teacher.

 

I hope so. I think so. I like to think I do some measure of good in my classroom. I have a reputation for being "hard," but most of my students end up seeing improvement in themselves by the end of the year. (I think some of them end up liking me, too. Imagine!) And really, that's what I hope for at work: to help students feel and be better.

 

And I think ultimately I see my job as a means of serving others, and certainly this is a quality I hope to inspire in you. I want you to grow up believing that God and Daddy and you matter most -- but others matter, too.

 

So at least for now, I'll be working. I'll be helping others learn and grow, and then running back home to watch you learn and grow, too. I'll be plastering your pictures all over my classroom. I'll be loving you every bit as much when you're in the care of others.

 

And I'll miss you while I'm out of sight.

Thinking it over, these are a few things I'll fondly miss until our next time of staying home together:

Breakfasts that take an hour -- to get you fed, me fed, and us finished with some very profound conversations (over banana bits).

Cuddle time as you watch Wild Animal Baby Explorers.

(You're very serious about those animals.)

 

Puppy play :-)

More time for visits at home from people who love us both --

Gigi

Maw

Aunt Lindsay

and others, too :-)

The other day, I was looking online, and I saw templates for lunchbox notes, from momma to kiddo. A precious idea for a precious one. So, I thought I would write you a few lunchtime notes for the days ahead…

 

You make me smile when: you get silly during playtime. I love seeing your little personality emerge, and so far, we seem to amuse each other. Great thing.

You are wonderful because: God made you especially for me (and your Daddy). You are our answer to prayer.

I am proud of you because: I get to be proud of you. Because you are mine to take pride in. Because you are funny and active and curious and sweet.

I'll be thinking of you when: I teach. When I eat lunch. When I have a moment to sit. When I am busy. Pretty much at moments throughout my day.

'Til next time, Love to my Lorelai

 

 

Thinking about Papa

I've been pensive this week. A week intended to be days of cousin fun ended up being the week we buried Papa, the man who chose to be my Dad when he married my mom.

Our first night in Houston after getting the news, your GiGi brought over albums belonging to Papa's mom, and your Aunt Lindsay and I spent hours looking at photos chronicling Papa's life and creating a montage for his services.

Some of his childhood photos I'd seen, like this one that hung in my childhood homes.

But others, like this one, were new to me. Your great-grandpa (leaning over Papa in this photo) looked so young!

Once we reached the family photos with us, of course I remembered most of them (and cringed at most of them, too).

But at least one I didn't remember.

Papa's passing has us all thinking. Your Aunt Lindsay and Uncle Brad spoke beautifully at his service, saying goodbye for now to their always Dad. But I wasn't sure what to say then. I wanted to support my family at a time of loss, but I did so quietly.

To say that my relationship with Papa was sometimes complicated would be an understatement. Even as adults, we didn't always see eye to eye. But what I can, and should, give Papa is that he stayed. Through times of conflict and misunderstanding, he was still Dad. And our relationship improved -- I want to acknowledge that progress. And I have special memories, too:

The time I nervously called home to announce changing my college major from electrical engineering to English, based on some notion of happiness, and he surprised me by supporting the decision immediately. He said my happiness mattered.

The time I came under professional fire for a curriculum element, and he fiercely defended me during the media frenzy.

The time I grieved a loss, when he offered encouraging words and told me he was proud when I found courage to try again.

Were those times like all of my memories with Papa? No -- but I'm beginning to think that our legacies are a combination of what we do,  what we try to do, and what we would do differently.

So when I think over the last week and all my time with your Papa, this is what remains:

It's okay to believe some things firmly. The world is too wild to enter into lightly, without some notion of who you are and what you will champion.

Beliefs and behaviors can change. And sometimes letting go of the past is a kind of freedom.

Forgiveness, forgiveness, forgiveness. Because love keeps no record of wrongs.

And family -- I'm reminded again of the importance of family. And I love our family.

Overall, I can't help but be glad that after a decade of poor health, pain can not touch him, and I believe that he has been renewed in heaven.

And I'm glad, however briefly, that he got to know you. I'm sure you and your cousin brought him joy.

And that seems to bring us back to the old photo:

'Til next time, Love to my Lorelai