Category: loving fiercely

Even 6th Graders Hug Their Moms

Posted on November 14, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

In 2002, when my son was just turning three, all he wanted to be when he grew up was a firefighter. Well, maybe Bob the Builder, too. Dreams of saving structures and the people trapped in them was his kind of a dream job. Cameron had it all-the firefighter suit, the plastic ax, and even a pedal powered metal fire truck that his big sister had outgrown. I guess firefighter fantasies run in our family.

I’m not sure how much 9/11 influenced this decision-probably not a huge amount at his tender age-although the media was full of heroic images of brave men and women who fought to save those people trapped in the twin towers. Out of this tragedy the “Twin Towers Orphan Fund” was born, and author Christine Kole MacLean published

Even Firefighters Hug Their Moms to raise money for the children who lost parents in the World Trade Center.

It was a perfect fit for my family – a picture book about a boy and his little sister who love to pretend play, especially fantasizing about firefighters. It became an instant favorite for my son, and as he grew it evolved into a catch phrase for us-whenever it seems like I will never get a cuddle again, I remind him of his favorite story.

Yesterday, I reminded him. Since kindergarten, my husband or I have always ridden bikes with our children to school. At first it was for safety reasons-tippy training wheels for my daughter while my son gloried in the bumps of the bike trailer, we loved the ½-mile ride to and from school each day. Often, my daughter would beg me to ‘drop her off at the corner’, but I always managed to make it into the bike racks, grabbing a last kiss and hug before she trotted off to her classroom. Later, once they were both in school and I went back to teaching my husband joyfully took over the duties. When Lily advanced to 7^th grade, she and I biked to and from our school together and enjoyed the time to talk about what was coming up in her life and how she was getting along with friends. Now I bike alone each day, missing her company.

So when I had the opportunity yesterday morning to ride to school with Cam, I jumped on it. This is our last year of elementary school, and it feels like a chapter of childhood is closing. Eager to squeeze out every moment I can, we hop on our bikes and quickly head out on the bike path. My big red cruiser is no match for his neon pink BMX bike-I have to work to keep up. After a few minutes he slowed and said, “You know, Mom, when Lily was in 4^th grade she rode to school by herself. Why do you still ride with me?”

“Well, it’s not because I don’t think you can do it, Cam. It’s because I want to be with you.” I answer. “Remember how you like me to tuck you in at night? It’s kind of the same thing. It’s just a special time when we’re together.” Silence greets my comment like the calm before a storm.

“Dad never rides all the way anymore. He drops me off at the park just before the bike racks.” Clearly he is ready to hold his ground.” And you know, I ride home with my friends now. You don’t need to pick me up anymore.”

“Really?” I reply, a hint of sarcasm in my voice. “You mean I can’t take you all the way, help you lock your bike and give you a big hug and kiss?” His cold, silent stare gives me his answer. “Even 6^th graders hug their moms.”

“Hi, Max!” Cameron yells, ending the conversation as if on cue. Sure enough, here comes his buddy riding up right behind us.

I take the hint, and quietly whisper, “Bye, Cam. See you after school” as I turn and ride towards home. The pang in my chest carries me, tears welling as I pedal. I realize that my little firefighter may not be wearing the costume, but I still adore him just the same.

Seven hours later, long after the pain had subsided and he walked in the door after school, I was welcomed with a great big bear hug. Yep, even 6^th graders hug their moms. Just not in public.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

9/11: It Started Like Any Ordinary Day

Posted on September 11, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

9/11: It started like any ordinary day.

After maternity leave, I’m still getting the hang of getting out of the house on time each morning. I’m up early enough to have some ‘me’ time – 5:30 a.m. – before the pitter patter of my 23-month-old boy’s feet signal the start of mommy-time. Must plan Cameron’s birthday party for next weekend, I think. Coffee made, candles lit, I start up the desktop as part of my morning ritual, eager to check email and read the news. Having children broke us of our TV news habit when we realized they were transfixed with images of stark reality we were trying so desperately to shelter them from.

A breaking news alert flashes into my inbox – “Plane crashes into building in New York.” Hmm. I’ve never been to New York. Worlds away from my cozy study. I hope it’s nothing serious.

Pitter patter pitter patter…here comes my boy, blankie, and book in hand. My heart thrills at the sight of his big round head. “Make sister juice,” he chimes with a smile as big as any Cheshire cat. I switch off the computer, eager to start the morning snuggle and reading time. It is just another ordinary day.

The 11-mile commute to school is nothing unusual. I drive past the harvested tomato fields, crop dusters skim the highway. Lesson plans fill my mind. Exit right, then left, then straight down the walnut tree-shrouded road towards Douglass Junior High, where my 7th grade English students stand lined up, waiting for me.

“Hey, did you hear about the plane crash?” they shout as I open the door.

“Yes, I did,” I answer, and switch on the lights. “Let’s get started.”

“But, can’t we watch the TV? I have an aunt that lives in New York, and I’m worried,” a child pleads.

“TV? When do we ever watch TV in class?” I respond with a smile. ‘Let’s get started – it’s grammar day everyone’s favorite!”

Moments later, an announcement is delivered by a TA telling us the grim news. Not one plane crash, now it’s two. What??? The Pentagon? Three planes? Buildings collapsed? People dying? But it’s just an ordinary day!

Why don’t I have my cell phone? This ancient classroom has no Internet; the only technology is the old TV mounted in the corner of the classroom. Where are my babies? Did Lily make it to kindergarten? What the hell is going on? I want to go home…

Thoughts flash through my head as I try to process what to do. Thirty sets of eyes stare at me, searching for comfort. I’m the teacher. I’m in charge. I know what to do? Frantic thoughts of my own children race through my mind. Are they OK? What will happen to us? Are the terrorists on their way?

Then I realize-someone is taking care of my children, just as I’m taking care of someone else’s. I know what to do. They need me to make sense of it. That’s what I would want my child’s teacher to do. Reluctantly, yet desperately, I turn on the TV. I have to know. I can’t wait all day.

After two hours, no word from my family, I switch it off. Business as usual – that’s what educators do. Keep them calm, keep them busy. I know it’s only going to get worse, and it’s only 10 a.m.

Two more hours and I’m done. As I jump in my little gold Escort wagon, I’ve never been so relieved to only work part-time; 11 miles fly by-not enough time to decide how to explain the unexplainable to my 5-year-old. The radio news drones on and on. Thousands dead. The children. The mommies and daddies who will never commute home again. The parents who will never see their babies again. The young people who will never have the joy of holding their child in their arms. It’s more than I can bear. The tears stream down my face as I safely reach home. It’s clearly not just an ordinary day.

‘Mommy, why are you sad? What happened at school today?” Lily whispers, her big blue eyes boring into mine. How do I answer? She’s only five. Far too young to have to learn about such horrors. I tell her a story about a plane crashing and good guys trying to stop the bad guys. “Did the bad guy go to jail?” she questions.

“No, he died,” I reply, choking back tears at her innocence.

“I’m sorry he died, Mommy. But I’m glad that we weren’t on that plane.”

“Me too, baby. Me, too.” I realize it may never be an ordinary day again.

Jennifer Wolfe

The Beginning of the Blog

Posted on June 27, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

This photo is one of my very favorites of my children. It was taken when Lily was three, and Cameron only a month old. When I think of my children in my ‘mind’s eye’, this is how I see them. Although it’s been nearly 12 years, I still see them at this stage in their life–full of wonder, trust, and love.

Not to say that all that is gone now, but as they’ve grown taller (than me), matured, and have begun moving through their lives, some of that childish innocence has gotten pushed back into my memory. Still to me, mamawolfe, I see them as in this image. Ready for what the world has to show them, ready to be wrapped in loving arms, ready to be embraced by life’s experiences.

I remember wondering how I was going to navigate motherhood with two babies. The delivery nurse warned my mother that women like me ‘had a hard time’ because we were used to being in control. I was sure that wouldn’t be the case. As it turned out, my daughter wasn’t the easiest infant-everything had to be ‘just so’-maybe a little bit of nurture mixed in with nature? Luckily before Cameron was born she turned into a wonderful, independent toddler. The ‘terrible twos’ were non-existent in our house. My son, born a bit premature, was thankfully a ‘goo-ball’ of delight. He loved to be held and cuddled any old way, which turned out to be my saving grace. Somehow, I muddled through infancy and toddlerhood.

What I’ve learned is that motherhood isn’t something that you can program, or plan, or predict. It just is. When I tried to make things happen the way the books, or the friends, or the family said they should be I was miserable. When I gave in to motherhood and stopped trying to control, everything usually went much more smoothly. What I’m still learning is that as my children grow, mature, and become independent, I need to remember them as they are in my ‘mind’s eye’, and not try to mold them into what I think they should be. I need to give in to motherhood, even with teenagers, and hopefully, things will go smoothly.

So far, it’s been pretty darn great.

Jennifer Wolfe

9/11: It started like any ordinary day.

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