Tag: mamawolfe

On Blogging, Friendships, and Seizing the Opportunity

Posted on January 28, 2013 by Jennifer Wolfe

Essential oil altar in Tangerang, Indonesia

Last July I wrote a post about turning your dreams into realities. That was right before I set off on my trip to Indonesia, which brought some of my dreams about world travel to life.

Traveling to Indonesia per se wasn’t one of my dreams; rather, it was the embodiment of pushing myself forward into the universe and seizing opportunities that presented themselves to me. When I applied for and received the US Dept. of Education grant to study global education, teaching in a Muslim country was not on my radar. But as the chance to travel to a country I’ve never visited, and likely wouldn’t have chosen on my own, presented itself, I jumped in. I didn’t look for excuses not to, or reasons why I couldn’t go. I just did it.

Inside an Indonesian market

I started my blog in much the same way. Just decided to do it and began sharing my stories, thoughts, and life lessons through my words. I never thought much about blogging before that, but when the opportunity presented itself, I grabbed it.

I got hooked. Life hasn’t been the same since.

Blogging turned into a creative outlet, a launching pad for my dreams, and a platform to meet people all over the world. For an introvert like me, blogging created relationships with women I now can call friends.

Two of those women, Val and Kathy created a website, Bonbon Break, designed to provide a space to share their thoughts, wisdom, humor and ideas with like-minded women. When Kathy contacted me to be one of the first featured writers, I was thrilled to accept. Since then, we’ve grown our friendships and our websites and pushed ourselves forward.

bonbonbreaklogo200

This week I’ve written an original piece for BonBon Break, “Writing Well and the Readers Will Follow“. I hope you’ll jump over and take a look.

You never know what might be waiting there for you that you never imagined!

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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Snow and Sickness and Those Horrible Mommy Moments of Panic

Posted on January 16, 2013 by Jennifer Wolfe

12 12 Tahoe and Mammoth 052

I was sick for most of the winter vacation. Really sick. Runny, sneezy, want-to-claw-out-my–itchy-eyes sick. For days. This is NOT how I wanted to spend my vacation. I imagined a long, restful break full of cooking, baking, laughing, skiing, long walks in the snow, dinner with friends, games by the fire…not exactly what I got. Instead, I was on the couch, tissue close at hand, too tired and grumpy and feeling sorry for myself to be pleasant company for anyone besides my family. They had no choice. It was everything I could do to not invite the whole Tahoe basin to my pity party.

Why is it that teachers always get sick on their vacations? Not fair. Who was the little creep who infected me with this?

The other bummer about being sick, besides thinking about all those sick days you’re NOT using, is that when you’re a mom, no one takes care of you – and you still have to take care of them.

Actually, now that my kids are teens it’s much easier. Those baby years were rough-I guess I do have it easier now. I don’t have to change diapers, rock them to sleep or read Curious George for the millionth time. But they still needed to be fed, and in the snow, grocery shopping is a huge ordeal. I wasn’t up for that at all. No endless circling the parking lot for a space, slogging into the store, pushing the shopping cart through the snow (that’s a fun one – have you tried it?) or heaving over-packed grocery bags through the four feet of snow to our door. So, I did what any mom would do: I sent my son to the store. On foot.

Ok, it’s not as bad as it sounds. There is a mom-n-pop type store just down the snowy icy, street. He can’t drive, but he can walk.

I slapped $20 in his hand, gave him a strict lecture about walking on the highway versus the road (I told him to choose the road-he’s quick, but jumping out of the path of a sliding car is not worth it), and sent him off. It was daylight. It was just down the street. It was just for some eggs.

I watched him walk away, headphones over his ears, smile on his face. Happy to be helping mama, or happy to be out of the house?

30 minutes later and it was getting dark. No sign of teenager, eggs, or anything else that would alleviate my anxiety. I was ready to call out the patrol. But, I was sick, on the couch, and in my bathrobe. I had to fight my natural urge to hurl myself through snow banks to go find him. My baby was out in the snow. In the dark. Sensing my impending eruption, my husband volunteered.

As he geared up, amazing thoughts flashed through my mind. Images of my son taking a detour, going to the highway for a shortcut, bounding through snow banks. I imagined the sirens racing down the highway on the way to pick him up, the phone call, the hospital…I was way gone into future-trip land.

Just when I felt I was about to burst, something dark caught my eye. There he was. I spied him out the window, sauntering down the street, carton of eggs in hand, and headphones on ears. He wore a huge smile on his face.

I exhaled all my anxiety, and tried to use the next sixty seconds figuring out how to handle myself. I couldn’t yell. I wanted to scream and release all my rage and fury about what he’d put me through.

Angrymamawolfe.

I fought the urge to run out into the snow and throttle him. I figured the best bet was to play it cool, act as if I wasn’t worried.

Coolmamawolfe.

He walked through the door, stomping the snow from his boots. “Mom, I spent some time down at the lake. It was amazing. The sky was so beautiful. I took pictures.”

Amazedmamawolfe.

My heart melted along with the clumps of snow on the hardwood floors. What a fool I am. What a silly, foolish worrywart. What a paranoid, over-protective parent.

I wanted to give him a lecture on the dangers of wearing headphones, but his sheer joy took it out of me.

“You’d be so proud of me, mom. I checked the expiration dates. One carton expired tomorrow, so I didn’t buy it.” I could feel him growing up as he spoke.

You’re right, Cam, I thought as I hugged him close. You have no idea how proud.

Through Cameron’s eyes:

the sky was truly amazing, wasn’t it?

I see why he wanted to get closer…

that’s a little too close, Cam

OK, so there was a bit of goofing around…

Tahoe Pines on Dwellable

Jennifer Wolfe

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Take a Trip To My New Blog: travels with mamawolfe

Posted on April 15, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

“A man of ordinary talent will always be ordinary, whether he travels or not; but a man of superior talent will go to pieces if he remains forever in the same place.”

— Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Oh, I hate to be ordinary.

In three months I will be taking off on a new adventure to the other side of the world…Indonesia. This has been in the works for over a year, ever since I applied for and received a government fellowship to study global education.

Just a few days ago I received my foreboding travel itinerary, which requires nearly 48 hours of travel time to make over 8,800 miles from California to Jakarta. The thought of a 14+ plane flight kinda freaks me out, actually.

And the thought of leaving my children for two entire weeks…terrifying.

As the countdown begins, I’ve embarked on a new blogging adventure, travels with mamawolfe. I’m not entirely sure what the future holds for mamawolfe, but I know that there will be plenty of stories to tell and images to share as I take flight.

Come travel with me! I promise to share it all with you!

http://mamawolfe-travel.blogspot.com/

Jennifer Wolfe

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My Car Is My Quiet Place

Posted on February 15, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

Call me weird, but I really like to sit in my car – it’s my quiet place. Alone.

It has nothing to do with driving-I like that, too, especially when it’s on the open highway. What I’m talking about are those rare moments when I’m completely locked in my glass bubble. The engine isn’t running, the radio is silent, and if I’m lucky, the rain is gently falling on the roof.

When I was a kid, I used to love going in our garage when it was raining just to listen to the soft, rhythmic sound of rain hitting the shake shingles. It felt safe, quiet, and I guess meditative, although I had no idea what that was at the time.

Today, I spend my days in an endless gurgle of people wanting, needing, and questioning. My continuous ‘response with a smile’ feels exhausting by 4p.m. and I find myself craving quiet. That is where the car comes in.

I don’t slip out to the garage and leave my family inside the house wondering what’s up with Mom. I don’t drive around the block searching for a place to park. Sometimes I do linger after I’ve arrived home, savoring the last of the NPR story, or taking a few deep breaths to center myself.

My car sitting time is often while I’m waiting for my son or daughter to finish a class, an activity, or some sport that doesn’t require spectating. It’s best when I park in a quiet neighborhood without many pedestrians peering in the windows. I prefer daylight quiet in my car, although I do keep a Halloween style skull lantern in my glove box to shed a little light as needed.

What do I do in the car? I sit. I write. I think. I grade the endless papers that my students provide me every day. I don’t like to talk on the phone, but I do occasionally check my email, play Words with Friends, or send a text or two. I write lots of blog posts, I do lesson plans, and once in awhile I’ll read a book or catch up on the newspaper. I even keep a blanket handy.

Once I did fall asleep – it was dark and after dinner – that felt a bit embarrassing and disorienting. As my teenage daughter would say, it was ‘sup-awk’ to wake up to the chatter of kids leaving their class knowing I had been snoring with the windows open!

Mostly I find that I breathe, sink into the seat, and just slow it down. I let my heartbeat match the rain, and concentrate on me. Most of the time people don’t notice me there, and I like that.

Now that I’m an adult, I don’t get to hear the rain on the roof of our house. The sound of rain hitting skylights just isn’t the same-it’s more of a ping than a satisfying thud. But when I’m alone inside my car I hear it all-rain, the wind, birds, dogs, and passers-by all create a meditative backdrop to my thoughts.

As a turtle needs to retreat into its shell to protect its soft body, as a chipmunk scurries into its hole, and as a rabbit retreats to its den, I need a place to go and shut out the world. The demands of a job and a family can, just for a moment, stay outside the bubble. Safe, dry, and protected, I can breathe in and out, and find my center again.

Call me weird, but I really like to sit in my car. Alone. Quietly. What about you? Where’s your quite place?

Jennifer Wolfe

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Moms at Work

Posted on January 25, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

I’ve always been a working mom. I was one of those women who thought that I could do it all – full time teaching, ever present spouse and greet my kids after school with a tray of freshly baked cookies.

Life didn’t exactly turn out that way.

When my daughter was born, I was sure I could return to my 7^thgrade English teaching job. It only would require a 60-minute round trip commute and leaving her home with her dad all day. And, I could still breast feed.

Luckily, the sleep deprivation got to me, and I realized not all that was going to happen.

After six months home with her it was time to return to the classroom. I settled on a 5^thgrade position that would allow me to work closer to home and have fewer papers to grade. I could zip home on my lunch hour to feed the baby, zip back for the afternoon and be home in time to bake cookies for my husband.

Life didn’t exactly turn out that way, either.

Trying to time a feeding for the 10-minute window I had available didn’t sit well with my stubborn daughter. The tears when I left didn’t sit well with my husband. Fifth graders were sucking all my patience – they were so clingy. And the cookies? That was just a fantasy.

The following school year I tried something else – a 7^thgrade position in a town about 10 minutes away. The plus side was the curriculum-my comfort zone-and my schedule-8-12. The down side was the commute-15 minutes each way might have well been crossing the state line. But she was growing up, and didn’t depend on me quite as much. My husband mastered the art of the long walk to tire her out, and she adjusted.

Then life presented baby #2.

This time I gave in. Stay at home mom I would be. The pendulum swung, my husband took a second job, and I spent every waking moment with both kids. I baked cookies-but he was too tired to eat them when he got home. Baby #2 didn’t seem to know who this man was that stumbled into the house every night, too exhausted to play, laugh or go to the park.

Going back to work was at least familiar, if not exciting. Teacherwolfe went into full gear. I decided that the commute could be a time for myself, and found that by the time I got home mamawolfe had reappeared and was excited to re-enter the home. My husband left his second job, balance slowly reappeared, and so did the cookies.

Life never tasted so sweet.

Jennifer Wolfe

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“A man of ordinary talent will always be ordinary, whether he travels or not; but a man of superior talent will go to pieces if he remains forever in the same place.”

— Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

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