penn

You don't have to be a superlative

I read some recent advise along the lines of "you don't have to know every single song to like a band." This really resonated with me, and I've been mulling it over for the last month or so since I heard that. I've been meaning to write this post for weeks. After much thought, it hit me that you don't have to be a superlative (and definitely not all the time).

Years ago, I bought some "superlative" forever stamps. I love stamps, so I rotate through a lot of options, and I just used the last one recently. The stamps featured such items as "longest bridge," "biggest lake," etc. Superlatives are exaggerated statements, but the term can also be used to refer to something like being the best. Trying hard is important, but the quest to be the best can often be a dangerous one. After all, only one person gets to be the best. And what of the rest of us?

I have been working hard to seek balance in my life. In addition to letting go of the competition with others (a lifelong quest), I'm also trying hard not to push myself to exhaustion in all arenas. Trying to be the best mom, wife, teacher, and self is an unwinnable quest. This winter, I was bringing home work each night while trying to fit in quality time with my kids, time with the husband, and a little me time. Most nights, I didn't do well on any frontier because I tried to do everything.

Over spring break, I took a lot of time to myself. I also spent time preparing classes for spring, mostly so that I wouldn't be planning day to day. Leaving my computer at work has been really freeing. As I walk out the door, I mentally say goodbye to work. Sometimes I think of work in the evening; it's hard to shut the teacher brain off.

The lesson of balance is one I will have to continually practice; this is harder than just letting things flow. But I like the permission to let go and be me. The original advise -- to like what you like, on your own terms -- is great. And the extension, too: you are fine just being yourself. Be a mom the way that works for you. Be a wife the way that works for you. This doesn't mean to be lazy; effort is still important. However, know that it is okay to decide that you have put in enough effort, and you may now put down your load.

Common Humanity

I'm reading this fabulous book by Brené Brown called Braving the Wilderness. I'm only a chapter in, and I'm already finding so many fabulous ideas that resonate with me. She spend a lot of time talking about belonging. On the page I'm reading, she says that people are concerned about how fear and anger are the only thing binding people together these days; people are increasingly unable to be bound together by our common humanity. "They reported feeling more afraid to disagree or debate with friends, colleagues, and family because of the lack of civility and tolerance."

Common humanity is the phrase that jumps out to me. Brown goes on to say that common humanity can lead us to recognize "Yes, we are different in many ways, but under it all we're deeply connected." And I see this over, and over, and over again: in the town I live in, when I read online, the comments section (ugh), and even in high political offices. The lack of ability to see the humanity in another person makes me cry, internally, for the future of our country.

As a teacher, I personally feel like teaching has taught me to recognize the humanity in all my students. Even in my difficult or challenging students, I work to see them as a person. To me, this makes the teaching easier; can I reach them on a level where we can both connect? I have found that it is easier to connect with students when I look at each day with fresh eyes -- forgetting any conflict from yesterday -- and work to treat my students as a human and not simply as a body in my classroom or, worse yet, an annoyance.

Recently, some school teachers in Idaho made the troubling decision to dress as a wall (yes, that wall) for Halloween. There's more; feel free to read the article. (side note: yes, I linked Fox news, because if even they find this newsworthy, that's notable.). Some dressed as the wall in American costumes, and others dressed up in Mexican stereotypes with sombreros and ponchos. Ten percent of their students are Hispanic/Latinx, and I am saddened by the implications of their choice. Do they think immigrants harm our country? How can you teach students when you feel they should not be here and don't share in your humanity?

We can certainly have conversations about immigration. How much is a sustainable level for our country? What is the role of immigrants in our country? Do we have jobs that have a hard time finding citizens to work them? Can we find a way to import workers for part of the year, safely and legally, and then let them safely return? How do we make sure immigrants become working members of our society? Can we use those skills to also help those citizens in our society who live in poverty and struggle to fully be part of our society? I was reminded in another news story I heard that society is not homogeneous in our country; the reporter was in a park where preschoolers were playing while drug addicts shot up on a park bench. (Another place where we struggle to see the humanity in others, but that's for another post).

There are so many good, worthy questions to tackle in order to "fix" immigration. But if the answer for some people to every question is "they are not us, so they are not as worthy as us or as human as us, therefore they are not allowed in," then there is no place to meet in the middle. Denying the humanity in others leaves us no middle ground to search for concordance.

Today, I encourage you to look for the humanity in someone else. For me, it's trying to see through the fear to the man who lives on the corner down the street from me. He is angry, deep down. He puts up inflammatory political signs, and I don't think he sees the humanity in anyone who doesn't agree with him. How can I work to see the humanity in him? I find his corner so repulsive that I'm not there yet, but that's where I am working on being my own best self.

Carpe Diem Musings

There's a common piece of life for carpe diem, or embracing the day, that goes something like this: live each day as if it were your last. And, you know, that advice really strikes a nerve in me. I do not like that saying.

There's lots of things I find enjoyment in that I sure as heck wouldn't do if it were my last day on earth. For example, I've come to really enjoy sewing. I like the challenge of learning new patterns and the satisfaction from making a completed item from a piece of fabric. Recent conquests include a pillowcase and a tote bag for library books. But sewing is a hobby necessarily focused on the future, where today's work means tomorrow's gain. Not something I'd do if I knew the world (or simply my world) were ending. I also enjoy doing art, but that's again something that, while fun in the moment, is also more satisfying over time. Running is another hobby that isn't even very satisfying in the moment for me, but I enjoy going for a run because I know it will pay dividends over time. And how can I move on without mentioning work? I generally enjoy and appreciate my work, and I derive satisfaction from a good lesson. But work is still a means to an end (the paycheck) and not something I'd do on my last day ever.

I'm not sure what I'd chose to do on my last day. Go for a walk, for sure. Walks are something I find calming and enjoyable almost all of the time. I love to soak in nature, people watch, and feel the strength and movement of my body. These past few days, we've been visiting people in less-than-walkable neighborhoods, and I'm definitely feeling the lack of movement in my body and my soul. I'd also just spend time being close to the people I love in this world.

Through my mother's illness, it was easy for some family members to criticize how she spent her time. I myself would get frustrated when she slept away days and devoured entire seasons of shows on Netflix. But she never did know which day was her last, and she had lost the drive to produce for the future. She did take some time to square away her retirement accounts, and she also went through some boxes of pictures to label them for us. However, she left a lot of unfinished business as well and a lot of sorting that I've been doing and will likely continue to do for quite awhile.

I know the advice truly is trying to get at doing enjoyable things and not wasting our time on frivolity or pursuits we don't enjoy. And, truly, at the core, that is a good message. Maybe I should think more on that. I certainly spend more time than I'd like checking netflix or playing games I don't care about rather than engaging in the things I do love.

Still, in the dark of night, I think a lot about death these days. It's been really hard losing my mom, both for her loss and the constant reminder that I too will die one day. Hearing those inspirational messages, no matter how well intended, are another jerk to reality. This one particularly annoys me since I cannot really spend each day like it's my last, since having future days means preparation and planning.

What do my readers still think? I know there are a few of you out there. What are your thoughts on this phrase? Are there any inspirational messages that bother you?

On confidentiality

I realize it's been awhile since I've blogged. I'd really like to get back into it, and I've spent some time thinking about why I haven't blogged and why I'd like to do so. I really enjoy writing; getting my thoughts out is cathartic, and I appreciate the small community of people who read my blog. I do like adding pictures too, but it takes so much more time that I rarely get around to it.

On the flip side, it's hard to write when I have a big thing that must be kept private. In my case, my mom was quite ill with cancer for a year and a half. She swore us to secrecy when she was diagnosed. I told a few friends at work/in the area, but it even took me awhile to tell my high school friends. My mom didn't enjoy having her "dirt laundry" aired in public.

She passed away last summer. We are fairly sure she had the same cancer that killed my grandmother and my great-grandmother, so I've already been screened once and will be sure to be extra vigilant about screening as I age.

It was hard to deal with pretty much everything throughout this. I think I shut down a lot to keep from emoting all over the place. Some days are still hard. Even when you know something is coming, it is a challenge to prepare oneself for such a great loss as the loss of a mother. The person who grew me is no longer here to watch me grow.

The other thing that makes me hesitate when blogging is the privacy of my kids. I do enjoy writing about my family, and I am trying to remember these fleeting moments of young childhood. They seem to stretch before me right now in a chain of never enough sleep and always more to do than time, but I know this will go fast. In my own life, each year means that my young years become a smaller portion of my life and of my interactions with my family. So, I'd like to remember, but I also don't want to write memories that later become an embarrassment or fodder for harassment for my children.

I'll feel things out as I go. I hope I can blog more; I think of cool blog posts all the time. We'll see how it goes.

Time creep

It is so easy to feel lazy these days when we can easily see everything our friends are doing on social media. I often get to the ends of weekends and think about all the things I haven't done. Even this weekend is prone to those sorts of feelings, and here's a run down of what I did:

Friday night bed at 7 pm with the little dude (yes! exhausting week of staying up late due to the feelings mentioned above of never getting stuff done, plus he and I are both fighting a cold that just won't quit). And this is where I add a side note: I fell off the blogging bandwagon so I don't know if I ever mentioned it, but I grew a second human! He's a year old now and completely fabulous. His name is Paul. We are smitten.

Saturday: taught morning science exploration time with a coworker for a bunch of middle schoolers, hung out with my kids, went on a long family walk (2 or 3 miles?), grilled for dinner, practiced videoconferencing with my cousin, and enjoyed snuggle time with both my kids at bedtime. Oh, and taped 30 minutes of video lectures for my students so class time can be spent on discussion, exploring, and questions.

Sunday: Matt left early for a 5k, so I got both kids up and ready and out the door to the zoo by 9:45 (a big deal since Julie, the 3.5 year old, sleeps in), enjoyed a day at the zoo, went to Target with Julie to look for a second carseat for her, had a virtual baby shower for my brother and sister in law (hence the videoconferencing) with our extended Penn family (not my actual last name but the part of my family I am closest too, hence my blog name), bedtime snuggles with both kids, and now folding laundry.

And here I was bumming about all the grading I didn't do this weekend, or lesson planning, or cleaning my office, or working on a big sewing project I'm part way through . . . but now I am feeling accomplished.

Time

There's never enough time in the world, it seems. Always slipping past like (insert your favorite slippery animal here). And that's been all too evident to me recently. Some of it is our daughter growing up; she's three now and so much her own self. We also had a little boy this spring, which I should write about sometime. And as a counterpoint to the new life in our little guy, my mother passed away when he was two months old.

She had cancer. As cancers go, it was considered aggressive, though I suppose it could have been worse. She was diagnosed a year and a half before she passed away. I decided to make the best of the time we had left. For, of course, tempus fugit, and each season turns to the next before too long. And I did.

I am sad about my mother's passing, of course. One of the hardest weeks of my life was sitting in the hospital room with her during her last week. The women who heard my first sounds not being part of my life is a challenge. But the silver lining is knowing that I made the most of the time we did have, and I am happy to say that I did embrace the flow of time and seemed to slow it somewhat.

Soon after she was diagnosed, Julie and I flew out to see her for a week. She was still strong and able to play thought tired from treatment. We also spent three weeks with her over the summer plus another week at her cottage. The cottage is a family property located on a lake in Upper Michigan. My mom would go to this lake every summer as a kid, albeit in rental. She'd always wanted to own there. She achieved her dream three years ago. And, again, she had not enough time at a place she loved. But we had a wonderful time playing there last summer, and Julie has a few videos and lots of pictures with her and her beloved Nana.

We also did Christmas right. That was my mom's favorite holiday. All three of her kids were home, and we made lots of traditional family recipes.

And, finally, the month at my house along with a week again with her at the cottage. My most abiding memory, other than time snuggling my little dude, is watching Gone with the Wind with her. My mom loved watching classic movies, and this is one she'd always meant to show me. We got that time. Perhaps we stole that time? It's hard to think in eloquence and metaphors about a topic that is still so raw for me. I also took a lot of pictures of how much Nana loved her new grandson so I can show him when he is older. Julie will remember little bits and pieces; she still talks about Nana recently and about how much she misses her.

I am glad both my kids got to meet their Nana. I narrowly missed meeting one set of my grandparents (my mother's parents); they died a month and three months before I was born, and it's always been a sorrow for me. My mom was so happy she made it to our son's birth.

Time slips, flies, flows, goes. We can try to embrace it, but time will still move on. Still, best to make the best of the time we do have. My summer is helping me see that and reevaluate how I spend my own fleeting time.

Reflections on a new place to live

We moved in late June to a new apartment. Our previous apartment was almost 100 years old and lovely: hard wood floors, deep windowsills, radiators, built-ins, and crown molding. There were also space issues (small/no closets), lead paint issues, and who knows what was going on with the pipes. In the winter, we'd always get hot water before cold from the taps. I presume this is because the radiator and water lines were near each other. Oh, and the radiators controlled the whole building with a thermostat in the hall, so our temperatures would fluctuate between 60 and 80F. Still, we loved our little place. It was cozy and lovely. The hard wood floors were amazing, especially since they'd been covered by carpet for quite awhile and thus were still in great shape.

However, our apartment was just two bedrooms and one bathroom, and space was getting tight. I haven't blogged about it, but we added a second child this past spring (a boy named Paul). We just weren't fitting well for a whole variety of reasons. We could have made it work, but we were given the opportunity to upgrade. We are now in completely new construction with four bedrooms and 2.5 bathrooms. To be honest, that's about one bathroom too many, but that's better than one bathroom too few.

I've noticed some interesting things since moving, which is why I want to write. First, laundry has become more challenging. Previously, we had laundry in our kitchen, and I loved doing laundry. It was so easy. I could hear the machine from anywhere in the apartment, so it was simple to know when to switch a load. Everything in the apartment was, gosh, maybe 20 steps away? I'm not sure, but whenever I needed to add steps at the end of the night, I had to do an entire lap of the apartment to get 100 steps. I could grab laundry, throw it on our bed, fold quickly and put right away. Now, our apartment is three levels when you consider our basement laundry. I do a lot of going up and down stairs, and I can't hear the machine running. I have started using the timer on my phone to remind me to go get loads. Laundry doesn't bother me, and I don't mind doing it, but it's not as simple as it used to be.

Another thing is trying to figure out where to put jackets. Our bedroom was steps away from the front entryway, so we had outdoor jackets in the entryway and things like cardigans hanging up in our closet. Again, I'm doing a lot of stairs now as I run upstairs last second to grab a cardigan before heading to school. Ditto on shoes; I'm actually getting close to just putting all our shoes in the front closet, since we don't wear shoes unless we're moving the house. I don't think I have space for all the cardigans and shoes, but we'll see as I reshuffle.

We also have a lot of stuff. I have no idea how we fit it in a smaller space. We did get a few new things, like a second desk and a second bookshelf. But, mostly, we've just unpacked what we had. We do have more floor space now. I am working on finding a place for everything, and then my next goal will be to start parting with items.

On the whole, I like our new place. It's good to spread out and be able to take stock; we definitely didn't have room to declutter before, which is perhaps how we still own so much. But on nights like tonight where I'm cleaning and doing laundry while running up and down the stairs, I get nostalgic for our tiny spot.

Solidarity in Solitude

Near my parents' house, there is a wonderful place called Lacamas Lake with a great path running for about 3.5 miles along the side of the lake. During the summer, when we visit, we go running there often. It's wonderful because my husband and I can each run the distance we like (him farther and faster than me), and then he can catch up with me on his way back for a cool down walk together. Sometimes, my parents take our little one, and then we can catch up with her exploring the lake edge and forest.

Running is complicated for me. The exercise is great for my body, and I feel stronger and better once I've been running for awhile. Once I get into a rhythm (both in a specific run and with running regularly), it's not so bad. Especially when I have a lot on my mind, running is a wonderful way to process. I am completely alone in my thoughts. With my body occupied, I don't get the bored and antsy feeling I might get when doing serious thinking while sitting still.

But starting to run is hard. I get nervous and anxious. I have to distract myself; that's why I love this trail, because I can start walking with my husband and chat with him until we get our run on. And, sometimes, in the middle, I feel so alone, like I am the only one in my struggle.

This is where the solidarity comes and why I particularly love this trail over other places I run. When I run back at home, I usually just run on streets around town. There are few if any other runners, mostly due to timing. People run in our town, but not on the streets I do at the times I do. I don't run on the bike/run path, mostly because it's downhill from where I am, and that means I would need to run back up. But at Lacamas Lake, it's a mostly flat trail chock-full of walkers, runners, and bikers; I am both alone in my thoughts and together with other people exercising their body and mind.

Every single time I go running, at least one person gives me great encouragement. Yesterday, it was a woman walking the same direction as me. By the time I caught up to her (after many, many minutes of slowly jogging up to her fast walking pace), I apologized: "I'm on the tortoise plan, but I'm turning around here." And she reminded me that it's wonderful that I'm out exercising and not on the couch. As I turned, she said "rock on, sister!" Late in my run, that gave me the extra little boost to finish strong. The other day, it was an older gentleman who was also running. We'd passed each other going one way, and we had both turned and passed each other again. "Keep it up, kid!" Sometimes, it's the little waves and smiles from fellow runners who understand; we are all out there working to improve ourselves, stride by stride.

Many people think running is lonely. There are lonely miles. But there's also a community out there happy to support. Every time I do a race, I invariably spend time jogging and chatting with someone else. We encourage each other to push -- not too much, but just enough, at our own pace -- and stay strong. So I push ahead with my body, and I do serious thinking with my mind. Perhaps if I run enough, I will finish planning next year's classes in my head.

Passion

One of the blogs (The Frugalwoods) I read just achieved one of their big goals; they bought a homestead in the woods. They currently live in Cambridge, Massachusetts. They're moving there soon to pursue a simpler life, according to them. They have been able to do so due to extreme frugality and high levels of savings. Their most recent post is describing the homestead they just bought and some of their plans. At the end, they pose the intriguing question: what would you do if you didn't have to earn a paycheck?

This is an excellent question with no easy answer for me. It's something I've pondered on and off over the years. I think the key part is not needing to earn. I've been unemployed before with lots of time on my hands, but the stress of not having a job and possibly running out of money was distracting. I am a good saver and have a solid cushion set aside, but it's not enough to retire indefinitely. So, when I didn't have a job, what did I do? I played music (mostly ukulele), read books, meandered on the internet, and ran more often. Nothing major but mostly fulfilling when I wasn't stressed about not working.

There's a big part of me that says I would continue teaching. When all is going well, I truly love my job. Interacting with students, sharing my excitement, and seeing them geek out about learning is wonderful. But then there are the stressful times, when I have too much planning, too much grading, and not enough motivation to get it all done. I often feel overloaded. But then summer hits. While I enjoy doing nothing for awhile, I really appreciate the structure and focus that my job brings to my life. Without it, I start to feel diffuse, and there's not much pressure to get anything much done.

My hope for this summer is to work on planning for one of my classes. I teach three different classes. One is mostly planned and just requires little tweaks from year to year; that is mostly not stressful, although there is a lot of grading for that class. The other two are less well-planned. My hope is to get a second class to the "well-planned" stage during three weeks I have slated for pure work this summer. I am curious to see if getting more planned helps me have a bit more time during the school year. I think I would enjoy my job even more with a bit less planning and a little more time for family and myself in the evening.

I am glad that I have found something I truly care about to do as my job. I don't have the patience to simply punch the clock for a paycheck. I enjoy doing something fulfilling. But maybe just a little bit less of it some of these weeks.

Thankful

We are at my in-laws' house in Iowa today for Thanksgiving. I am supremely grateful for good food and happy family. We are having a wonderful time playing with the cousins. Last night, we introduced my nephew to "Ticket to Ride," one of our favorite board games.

Right now, we are watching football as Matt reads to Julie and the last of the dinner preparations are being made. I am grateful for an extended family where everyone loves to cook good food, so we take shifts in the kitchen to prepare this amazing meal.

Happy Thanksgiving to all out there. May your day be full of blessings.