My “Do Something That Makes You Happy Today” List

Posted on January 11, 2016 by Jennifer Wolfe

I’m a HUGE list maker. I’m a planner. I come by it naturally – teaching forces me to know what’s going to happen (or at least have some sort of starting idea) every minute from 8:00 to 3:15. My days operate with lesson plans and bells, and I even can tell you what time I can take a bathroom break and when I can eat my lunch. Down to the minute.

Writing lists makes me happy.

It’s normal that this sort of planning would trickle over into my non-teaching life, right? Some call it a curse.

I have lists for this week, and then a specific plan for today. I write down what I need to do, what I want to do, and what I dream about doing. I have lists for the month, lists for the summer (usually full of big projects that I don’t have time to do during the school year, like painting the living room or sorting out photos on the computer), and lists for the different stores I like to shop. I have lists for cards to send, gifts to buy, and places I want to travel.

I’m sorry – does this sound overwhelming to you? Honestly, I don’t think I could function without a list.

This day definitely made my happy list.

In 2016, I’m adding one more list: a “What will make me happy today” list.

I was inspired by a meme on Facebook that read, “Make a list of things that make you happy. Make a list of things you do every day. Compare the lists. Adjust accordingly.”

Wow- so simple, right? It made me stop and think. How many ‘happy’ things do I do every day? And why didn’t I think of this?

I had no idea that ‘happy lists’ were a THING. Wow – all the images and memes and ‘happy groups’ out there! I love it when Facebook teaches me something.

I realized that in the midst of all this listing, this recording and crossing off and getting-it-done, I was forgetting a key component.

Yes, I love the feeling of checking “it” off – that swell of joy at finally completing a long-overdue task, of not forgetting an important date or bringing something somewhere that I need to be.

But despite the momentary joyfulness, I noticed was a crucial missing piece: ME. I was missing from my own ‘to-do’ list.

I’m 50 now. Not that much has changed, really. I’m still mothering and teaching and partnering. I’m still me. Some shifting has happened – one of my kids is living in another state, quite successfully. I have one more at home for three years, and then it’s just me and my husband (imagine the kind of lists I can have then!).

Another happy list day – my 50th birthday celebration.

I’ve decided that while I’m busy teaching and mothering and being a partner, I need to remember to do more of what makes me happy, every day. So simple, isn’t it?

But I need to not just say I’m going to do it – I need to write it down.

So every day, after I’ve written my morning pages, I’m adding a “What will make me happy today” list in my journal. It’s quite easy, and often it’s the same thing every day: 1. find time to read and write 2. spend time with C 3. take a walk and notice something 4. make something delicious to eat for my family

Writing it down, though, makes a difference. It says to me REMEMBER to do this. Take the time to squeeze in a few minutes of doing what makes you happy today. It says, “You’re important.”

I can check something off my happy list now – writing a blog post is definitely at the top.

What can you write on your happy list today? I’d love to know what’s on the top (or middle or bottom) of your list.

Do it. Now. You’re important, you know.

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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Your Children Are Not Your Children

Posted on January 8, 2016 by Jennifer Wolfe

“Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.”

~Khalil Gibran

I had 25 days when I could pretend that life was what I took for granted for 18 years. For 25 days, I woke up and my mental inventory was simple – both babies asleep in their beds, both under my roof.

Before, I used to never think for a moment about the extraordinary in the ordinary – I took it for granted that I was their mom, they were my children, and that every day – while surprises would undoubtedly rush in – my son and daughter would both be here. They would both be within arm’s reach every night.

These two children – they satisfied my longing for myself.

I’m not so sure that in those ordinary moments of life, though, we really realize what is happening. We take for granted the long days full of routine adventures. We tuck these children in and kiss their silky heads and go on with all the other things we think are so important.

That I thought were so important.

Did I even notice for a moment that they were both where they belonged?

Perhaps.

But this morning, when I wake up on the 26th day, my inventory is down. There is one less inhale to take. One less child growing and blooming under my roof. One less within arm’s reach.

My son and daughter, my life longing for itself. My children.

Life – you have two marvelous humans to take care of, two children to watch over, to take joy in the blessings they offer to the world. Life, please, love them fiercely.

Thank you to Goodreads for inspiring me with this quote today.

Jennifer Wolfe

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My Favorite Moments of 2015-A Year In Photos

Posted on January 4, 2016 by Jennifer Wolfe

I love the new year. Not because I’m a big one on resolutions (I’m definitely anti-declaration in that way). And not because I like to whoop it up on New Year’s Eve (I don’t – I was in bed by 10 p.m.). And I love photos – not because I’m any sort of skilled photographer, but because I love the moments they capture.

And certainly not because I love endings and change and the unknown (not.not.not.).

But I do love the new year because I adore reflecting on memories. I love stories. I’m sentimental that way.

I’m a huge creator of photo albums and memory boxes – at least, I used to be, before I got a digital camera.

Now my photos are stored all over the place – my phone, my computer, the cloud, Google Drive – and I need to do a serious project to get them organized.

Wow – that sounds almost like a resolution. *shudder*

To start, I searched up each month of photos that I could, and want to share my favorites here. Not because they’re terribly technically good photos, but because, for me, they tell a story of 2015: what happened, where I went, and who I loved.

And that will have to do for now.

JANUARY 2015

This was in the orthopedist’s office – it was the first time C had seen his leg outside of his cast since he broke it on the ski course. I love the look on his face and the fact that he wore his “Bomber” shirt that day – sigh.

FEBRUARY 2015

While most days I dislike the fact that my daughter moved to Utah to go to college, when her photographer boyfriend sends me these shots, I can’t help but smile. Can you see her face? She’s loving life. What more can I ask for?

MARCH 2015

I love the blurriness of this shot-it’s so representative of how life was (is?) feeling in this moment. I love that C is on his skateboard after months of being in a cast (wait -really?). I love that he hasn’t lost his confidence and that our dog follows him everywhere. A boy and his dog. And his skateboard. *sigh*

APRIL 2015

Being a part of Listen To Your Mother seemed like an elusive writing goal – although motherhood tips the topic list of my blog, it took a huge leap of faith for me to actually submit my writing. My smile represents my joy at being chosen, at doing something that made me nervous, and the accomplishment I felt when I was done. And this photo also reminds me how short I am.

MAY 2015

My girl and her dog along the trail at Five Lakes. It’s near Alpine Meadows, where we spend the winters skiing. If I was in this photo, my smile would fill the frame – this was the first time I’d seen L since Christmas, and I couldn’t get enough of her. This adventure, hiking with her and her boyfriend and our pup, was one of those perfect moments that I appreciate so much more now that she doesn’t live with me anymore.

JUNE 2015

A day trip to Point Reyes, CA, was one of the first things we did when L came home (briefly) in June before she left to work in Oregon for the summer. My boy was still not 100% on his now-healed leg, and yet he made it down to the coast with his camera. Can you feel my heart bursting here? I assure you, it was.

JULY 2015

NYC subway with one of my oldest girlfriends taking the snap. I’d never been there, never ridden the hot, steamy, sweaty, crowded subway, so I insisted she capture the moment. I’d just finished attending BlogHer16 (awesome) and was spending my last few days seeing the sights. I may not look like I’m 18 years old in this image, but I sure felt like it.

AUGUST 2015

I can’t remember the name of this lake in Utah but I do remember the moment. C and I had driven L back to school and she and her boyfriend took us up into the mountains of Alta where they ski during the winter. I was pretty happy I kept up with the youngsters (elevation and all), but mostly, I felt the joy a mother feels when her babies are by her side, happy and healthy and loving life. I’m not sharing the photos I took the next day when I left her there and had to drive home…

SEPTEMBER 2015

My boy turned 16. What I love about this photo is how much he’s changed, yet how he’s stayed the same. He didn’t want a ‘sweet 16’ party like my girl did, so I dug out an old cake photo to contrast with where he is today – the fact that his broken leg healed, he was able to skim board in Carmel and is growing into such a determined, kind human….I’m a proud mamawolfe.

OCTOBER 2015

An Instagram screen shot of L and her boyfriend hiking in Utah. What mom wouldn’t be proud to see her daughter in love like this?

NOVEMBER 2015

Even though I turned 50 in December, and even though I did NOT want a party, my mom did it anyways. The day after Thanksgiving, before L went back to college, and when my extended family was still in town, we celebrated. And I’m glad. I chose this photo because it is a rare moment when I am in a shot with both of my parents – they divorced when I was a teen and are rarely seen together. I love this because it reminds me what parents will do for their children and that I’m getting old. Older, but better. Definitely better.

DECEMBER 2015

I love the holidays, but they overwhelm me. Too much going on, too many people, and I’m usually exhausted from teaching during those crazy December days leading up to the break. But here, on Christmas Eve at my dad’s house, this photo made it all worthwhile. My babies. My boy (with a concussion 🙁 – can you see his hospital bracelet?) and my girl, my best life’s work. What makes me mamawolfe.

Here’s to 2016, a year for more photos, more adventures, and more writing about thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. A year for trusting the journey.

That’s one resolution I can keep.

Jennifer Wolfe

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Trust The Journey

Posted on December 31, 2015 by Jennifer Wolfe

“Ring out the old, ring in the new. Ring happy bells, across the snow.

The year is going, let him go. Ring out the false, ring in the true.”

~Afred Lord Tennyson

It’s clear and frosty this morning. C is asleep in his bedroom, and the house is still. Silent.

In the darkness, I journey down the stairs and nudge open his door, knocking into skateboards and loose lacrosse balls. He groans, “It’s still dark, Mom. What are you doing?”

“Just checking on you. It’s what mommies do. Are you warm enough?” I whisper.

“Yes….” his words come out in one breath as he rolls over.

“Go back to sleep, bud. I love you,” I reply, and gently shut his door.

Back upstairs, I light my candles and prepare for the last day of 2015 following my familiar morning rituals. Candles. Journal. Quotes to think on.

I notice the cantaloupe-colored sunrise just beginning to peek through my open window. There’s frost on the roof next door, and the trees are bare, thin branches mimicking the overhead power lines across the street. The candles flicker around me.

This won’t be the first New Year’s Eve we’ve spent apart from our four-person family. Our plans carefully crafted to coincide with Lily’s trip home from college, altered when C crashed into a tree ten days ago, taking the impact with his head.

Grateful for his high-tech ski helmet. Grateful he walked away.

It’s been a rough journey for my boy since August 3, 2014, when he broke his leg on a race course at Mt. Hood, Oregon. Three days back into training this year, another setback.

I’m grateful he will recover. But I’m tired of this.

I’ve been in too many ERs and hospitals and exam rooms; I’ve read chapters and chapters in waiting areas and labs. I’ve asked occasionally for help, I’ve questioned and I’ve accepted. Mostly, I’ve kept it all inside.

I can “Fakebook” with the best of them.

I know how to selectively post, how to check in and let you know where we are. I gram and tweet and snap and I could tell you what a high school friend ate for breakfast (PG and J), who is on a romantic night away from the kids ( 🙂 ), and which motivated friends crawled out of bed in the dark for a frosty run. I see your smiles as you ski, the shared meals and new loves. I can almost see your life right there, your clues about 2015 shining through your status updates.

I see the pride, the hope, the joy and sometimes if you’re honest, a glimmer of sadness – all amidst those ordinary moments of living this journey.

Facebook proclaims it’s 2016 in Australia now, so the resolutions have begun. The lists, the fill-in-the-blanks, the wishes and dreams that maybe if we say them out loud, might just come true.

Instead, I pull out the box of memories I keep faithfully filling year after year, and open my journal from 2014.

Just curious, I think. What’s changed? How have I filled a year’s worth of living?

The cover proclaims, “yes to growing and reaching, yes to healing, yes to soulfulness, yes to joy, yes to vulnerability, yes to change, yes to beginnings.”

Yes, I think. I’ve said yes to all of that this year.

Scanning the pages, I remember how sick I was this time last year – down on the couch, coughing and achy and sneezy kind of sick. Today, I feel well.

Last year I was reflective, grateful, struggling with change and believing in possibilities for the year ahead. I dreamed of joy and understanding.

I was hopeful.

It’s an hour later, and not much has changed. The sun is peeking through, reminding me that blue skies will be here soon. I can sill see the melon colored hue melding into the fog; the frost still clings to the roof tiles, and this, here and now, is still my extraordinary life.

Tonight I’ll ring out the old, I’ll let go of 2015. I’ll ring in the true.

This year, I’ll remember who I wanted to be when I grow up. I’ll trust the journey that’s taking me there.

Jennifer Wolfe

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2015: A Year of Courage

Posted on December 30, 2015 by Jennifer Wolfe

My word for 2015 was courage – courage because I knew that coming off the significant changes in my life from 2014, I would need fearlessness to remember that when one door closes, another door opens.

I would need courage to really look at myself in the year before I turned 50, hoping to find some place to simultaneously settle into life as it is, while keeping an open heart and mind for new opportunities.

Courage opened my eyes to parts of my life, right here, right now, that I wanted to pour energy into, and parts that I wanted to shut down. Courage helped me to look at relationships, to identify friendships that were worth investing in, and to feel confident that putting family first was the right choice. 2015 helped me to examine my teaching, my commitment to my career, and most of all, to have the bravery needed to put up strong boundaries to create the life I want to live. And it took a bit of courage to admit that when I turned 50 in early December, I was officially ‘middle-aged’.

It surfaced in my writing, too. Courage allowed me to blog on my own schedule, to share with you, my readers, parts of my life that I was trying to decode, to comprehend, to adapt to. Today I’d love to share some of my favorite posts from last year, most of which reflected on this theme. I’m still thinking of my word for 2016; as many of my readers know, I’d rather focus on the broad expanse a word allows than to create a list of resolutions that somehow never seem to manifest.

Thank you all for reading and commenting and supporting my blog in 2015. I look forward to a prolific year in 2016, and to grow our mamawolfe community of lovers of thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously.

My top posts of 2015:

Letter To My College-Bound Daughter

5 Things You Probably Don’t Know Teachers Are Thinking

What Teachers Really Want For Teacher Appreciation Week

3 Fun And Easy Ways To Encourage Your Child To Write

Flipped Learning Using Edmodo

She’s Nineteen, And She Doesn’t Live Here Anymore

A Letter To Parents Leaving Their Kids At College

Finding The Teacher Mom Balance

Into The Fog: The Sweetheart Murders

A Year of Accidental Life Lessons

My favorite posts about courage in 2015:

No New Year’s Resolutions: Just Courage

Being Normal

Love Makes Your Soul Crawl Out

It’s The Last Day of School – So Why Aren’t My Students Leaving?

Living In Courage: Three Vignettes Vlog

What are your reflections on 2015? Which were your favorite mamawolfe posts? Happy new year, to each of you, and thank you for being a part of my world.

Jennifer Wolfe

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“Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.”

~Khalil Gibran

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My top posts of 2015:

My favorite posts about courage in 2015: