Category: Reflections

Prom Night At Our Place

Posted on December 13, 2011 by

I am definitely not a person who is into cliques.  As a result, I’ve never been much of a joiner of clubs, groups, or anything that labels.  I even resisted junior proms and senior balls as a teen.  I don’t think at 16 I was thinking that I was being ‘true to my authentic self’; I just knew that something didn’t feel right, and prom wasn’t the place for me to be.
As a middle school teacher and survivor of the teenage years I know the damage kids can do to each other by labeling, stereotyping and making exclusive groups.  As a mom, however, I was really pleased to be nominated as the “cool” place to hang out and prepare for the junior prom.  As it turns out, kids in our town don’t need to have a date in order to go to the prom-what progress since my high school days!  As a result, I had ten sophomore girls arriving to my house in waves to primp, polish and prepare for the first big dance of their young lives.
With iPod speakers blaring the young ladies began to polish toes and fingers in anticipation of the slightly tippy, strappy sandals most would be wearing, despite the 30 degree weather outside.  It was an amazing sight to see that their texting ability wasn’t slowed down a bit by wet paint on their fingertips!
Next, the hair.  Straight locks are out this season-with coordinated teamwork worthy of a football playbook, one after the other the girls strategized the curling process to result in Taylor Swift-worthy tumbling tresses.
Then, the food.  In-n-Out was the request-what girl doesn’t need a big burger and fries before dancing the night away, right?  Washing it down with sparkling cider served in my great grandfather’s tiny crystal wine glasses surely added class to the menu!

Dresses?  Can anyone say micro-mini?  Sheesh…these girls tugged and pulled to ensure no accidental wardrobe malfunctions! Some of the dresses were very, ahem, sophisticated.

The boys arrived next.  Surprisingly there were a few ‘dates’-the sophomore boys seemed to wait until the last minute to ask the girls.  Were they building up courage, or hoping that their last minute plea would be desperately accepted?  Maybe they were just traditionalists trying to do prom the old fashioned way.  Regardless, there didn’t seem to be any problem with only four of the ten girls having escorts-aside from the fact that none of the girls really knew how to act or entertain them while they waited.  Standing awkwardly in their new suits, squeaky shoes and fresh haircuts, the boys waited patiently in the living room for the ladies, while mamawolfe acted as a human buffer between them and the hallway to the bedroom.
Finally, the photos.  With flashbulbs that would challenge any paparazzi, the girls dazzled in a variety of photo combinations.  Yes, there were the awkward groupings of those with dates, those who had been friends since elementary school, the whole group, and the shoes to show off the pedicures.
After all the memories were captured and we all piled in cars to drive to the high school, one of the girls commented, “Wow, you must feel really popular, mamawolfe, to have everyone want to hang out at your house tonight.  It’s the place to be!”
Her comment stopped me cold.  Popular? Not the word my adult brain would use.  Special?  Definitely.  Recognized?  For sure.  Thrilled?  Absolutely.
For me, this year’s prom night was so much more than all the pageantry.  Sure, watching my little girl transform into a young woman before my eyes was beautiful.  Feeling the excitement, the anticipation, and the energy was contagious.  But what prom night really taught me this year is that belonging happens in many different ways.  The girls learned that they don’t need to be joined (literally or figuratively) with a boy to have fun.  The boys realized that if they ask, they have hope.  And now I know that I don’t really need to join anything to be important in my daughter’s life – by being myself she and her friends feel comfortable. Actions speak louder than words.  My house really is the place to be.
What more could a mom ask for?

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.

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Friday Photo: Old Friends

Posted on December 10, 2011 by

Old friends are just the best.  It’s so easy to pick up where we left off, jump into conversation, and not have to do all the ‘getting to know you’ kind of talk.  Especially when they’re really old friends-I’m talking nearly 30 years of friendship. 
Old friends don’t judge.  They take you for who and what you are, and know it has all come about from who and where you’ve been.  In my mind’s eye, we haven’t changed that much.  I don’t need a recent photo-we are still those girls in 1983 going off to college in our VW Things, ready to take on the books, the beach, and the boys-and not always in that order! 
So when I met up with my old friend this week, we just picked right up where we left off.  We looked into each other’s eyes and remembered living together, arguing with each other, and trying to understand how a Physics major and English major could possibly communicate with each other.  We laughed about our adventures, and prayed that our own children won’t repeat our stupidity.  We remembered the tears, the break ups, and the meals we shared as we ventured out into adulthood together. 
But mostly I smiled, and laughed, and felt a deep sense of connection to my old friend, my confidant, my history keeper.  And while our road trips together have been on hiatus for awhile, we know that one day we’ll jump into a convertible, put the top down, and cruise down to Baja just like the old days. 
Old friends.  They’re just the best, aren’t they?

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.

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Friday Photo: Giving Thanks

Posted on December 2, 2011 by

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Yes, I know it’s the first week of December, not the third Thursday in November.  Today’s Friday Photo has no turkeys, pumpkins, corn or cranberries.  There’s nothing here that looks similar to a traditional thanks-giving post.  But that’s exactly what it is.  These photos of my son were taken by my dear uncle the day before Thanksgiving as we walked around our neighborhood, looking for nothing in particular.  What makes them so special to me are the memories that lie within them.  You see, this year my son anticipated the arrival of our out-of-town family members like it was the night before Christmas.  He couldn’t stop talking about how much fun it was on Thanksgiving because everyone was together, it was warm, cozy, and just felt great.  He couldn’t wait to go geocaching with his aunts, uncles and cousins.  He knew board games in front of the fire were a sure thing.  And of course, the dogs.  Lots of new dogs to cuddle made him a very happy guy.
So today, I’m giving thanks for all that and more.  I’m giving thanks for family that likes to be together and feels comfortable around each other.  I’m giving thanks for a safe and peaceful home where everyone gathers.  I’m giving thanks for abundant feelings of love and support from people near by and far away.  And I’m giving thanks for C-Fly, who teaches me every day that it doesn’t take a holiday to remember what a lucky mom I truly am.

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.

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Friday Photo: Falling

Posted on November 18, 2011 by

Sometimes as I’m moving around in my day, an image gets stuck in my head that I can’t shake. Sometimes it conjures up a memory, a feeling, or provides an impulse to do something. Often, though, I just see something that I want to capture in my mind for no particular reason-it just speaks to me. I’d like to offer these images up for ‘thought contributions’-as a way to generate a community of ideas together.

This week’s Friday Photo was taken on our local university in front of one of my favorite places: the library.  These sculptures, The Eggheads, are sprinkled around campus, each symbolizing a particular aspect of college life.  The artist, Robert Arneson, believed that his art should embody economic, social and political commentary-and this Egghead does just that for me.  My brain is so full these days, nearly every night I fall asleep in this Bookhead position!

What would a sculpture look like of you these days ?

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.

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Tribute

Posted on November 17, 2011 by

His laugh, low and husky, always makes me smile.  Not a man to rush, he enjoys the moments of his life, no matter how big or small.  ‘Things have a way of working themselves out,” he always tells me.

For a little northern California girl, Los Angeles is a city of magic.  PSA shuttles me to Burbank during the summer, never disappointing my expectations.  The burgundy Buick feels slow and safe, just what a small granddaughter needs to feel welcomed in the big city.  The short drive to Sherman Oaks holds the anticipation of Christmas morning at the end of the road.  Down one endless avenue to the next, right up to the little yellow house.  His strong hand reaches for mine across the beige upholstery.

The radio in the front bedroom quietly broadcasts the latest news as Nanook the Husky softly nuzzles my welcome.  Push up pops appear from the freezer.  The bullfighter still graces the bedroom wall.  Joan of Arc gazes from her perch.  The bean bag offers a nest to sink into.

He slows down with time, his feet shuffling down the street and heavy on the pedal.  My turn to drive now.  Eyeglasses no longer slip from their case tucked into his breast pocket.  My turn to read aloud the news.  Clarence Thomas on the front page evokes his sense of morality, long honed through years in the legal profession.  His hands strong, skin thin, grasp mine gently across the kitchen table.  I settle into the moss green upholstery, trying to plant myself in the moments I know are few to come.  The clock talks to him now, announcing the loss of minutes left to spend together.  “Go, Abuela, I’ll stay here,”  I urge, clamoring for another precious moment.
Later that night, strains of ‘Gone With The Wind’ float through the apartment.  The phone rings in the dark.  ‘Please come,’  the voice pleads.  ‘He’s gone.’

We arrive in the darkness.  More stoic unsettled, she draws the long silver Cartagena scissors to tenderly snip a lock of his hair.  So still.  The tears flow silently, slowly.

His hands clasp in tranquility.  I slump to his side, tenderly kiss his cheek.  No rush now. He has enjoyed the moments of his life.  I savor this last one we spend together.  Somehow, I know things have a way of working themselves out.

EC Writes

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.

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