I’m starting now as if I haven’t already been up for hours…

as if I haven’t made the coffee and the bright red tea kettle hadn’t whistled for your pomegranate green tea…

as if I haven’t cooked the peppered bacon, veggie omelet with mushrooms, onion and crunchy green bell pepper, held together with gooey cheddar cheese…

as if I haven’t sliced the juicy melon or packed the food for your skiing lunch break…

as if I haven’t folded last night’s final load of laundry, and the washer wasn’t humming with today’s first…

as if I haven’t carefully packed your ski boot bag with dry gloves and hand warmers…

as if I haven’t re-positioned the blankets on our bed…

as if I haven’t received an unexpectedly long good morning hug and comforted you when your legs felt like jello and you’re not sure you can make it out the door in the dark, frosty air…

as if I haven’t already had three cups of that coffee with cream and cleared the dishes from the breakfast table…

I’m starting now as if today was all about me…

and grateful that it isn’t.

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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I really didn’t want to walk out the door this morning.  Not because I was snuggled in bed.  Not because it was too early.

I was nervous about driving in the snow.

A few days ago I had a wheel spinning incident.  It was nothing serious, but serious enough to make me second guess the ability of the mighty Prius to make it up the icy road in the dark.  At 6:30 am.

One good thing about having kids, though, is that they don’t let you off the hook.  We needed to get to ski training, and Cam didn’t want to be late.

How can you argue with a teenager who doesn’t want to be late to 7 am ski training?  Even when he knows it’s -4 degrees outside?

He was right.   That’s hard to say about your teen sometimes, but this time he was.

The Prius, in all its glory, delivered us up the hill on time.  And this is what awaited me:

Notice how there are no other people out there?  That’s because it was FREEZING!  And dark!  And early!

Just as I turned to go in, I saw this:

And this – one of those little dots at the bottom is my son, waiting for the chairlift:

And as I stood, mesmerized, the chill didn’t bother me anymore.  I couldn’t believe the beauty:

Slowly, the sun brushed the slopes with light.  We welcomed a new day together.

And once again, I was very glad I walked through the  door this morning.  You never know what you might be missing.

Like this:

He makes it all worthwhile.

Thanks, Cam.

Talmont on Dwellable

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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I always have a bit of a holiday let down.  December is a big month for me: the start of ski season, my birthday, and of course, Christmas.  Add in teaching junior high during this month full of expectation, and by the time Dec. 31 rolls around, I’m done.

In other words, I’m not a big New Year’s Eve fan.

I think the last time I actually went to a big New Year’s Eve party was in 1995 when I was pregnant with my first child.

I remember the millenium, taking down the Christmas decorations while the news blasted from my 9-inch black and white tv.  I remember it well.  Then, I had a three-year-old daughter AND a three-month old son.  Fun times.

Needless to say, this New Year’s Eve I don’t anticipate much action, other than dinner with my now thirteen-year-old son, some quiet reflection time, maybe a cold beer, and, of course, some writing.

What I’ve also learned this year is that if I flip the holidays around, they don’t have to bring me down.  In fact, I’ve learned that a few things about the holidays never go out of season, they instead are cultivated all year long:

Holiday Spirit

This year we simplified the holidays.  We cut back to the most important and meaningful traditions, and enjoyed the spirit behind the season.  My daughter noted that there wasn’t a day when we didn’t have holiday music playing in the background.  We didn’t miss a chance to sing along with “Feliz Navidad” or Taylor Swift’s “Sounds of the Season”.  I learned that  holiday spirit alive doesn’t mean leaving up the Christmas tree until spring; rather, embracing the simple, the fun, and the merry all year long is the route to happiness.

Getting Back to Roots

As a parent, I feel obligated to put my children first.  Always.  The holiday season cements these feelings – isn’t Christmas ‘for the kids’ anyways?  No, I don’t consider myself a martyr, but rather, I see parenting as a huge commitment. And in order to do it ‘right’, I need to take it seriously.  However, in 2012, I realized that I can take myself seriously, too.  I’ve wanted to write professionally since I can remember.  I studied English during college, and once I graduated, my writing stayed hidden inside journals.  This year I learned that getting back to my roots meant taking a chance and being vulnerable.   Last year, writing brought passion back to my life, along with courage, happiness, sadness, and stories, too.

Generosity

 This year I adored watching my children plan and purchase their gifts for others.  With the innocence of children, they worked hard to find just the right gift for just the right person.  Listening to them exclaim that they ‘cannot wait for me to open it’ made my heart beam.  And despite all the tragedy of Sandy Hook, we learned that we can pay it forward.  As my son and I participated in #26Acts, he declared it ‘awesome-just like a treasure hunt’ except in reverse.  We didn’t finish all 26 by Christmas, but that’s more than ok;  as we give freely in 2013, we hope others will be inspired to freely give.

Good Friends

I actually didn’t attend one holiday party this year.  I prefer to keep it quiet, keep it simple, and keep it at home.  So much of our lives is spent out in public that for me, the holiday season is a perfect time to spend with family.  That’s not to say that good friends aren’t part of our equation, but simply, in a different, more personal way.  I still send Christmas cards, and rejoice with each envelope that comes through our  mailbox.  In 2012 my list of friends grew in ways I could never have predicted; I met teachers from all over the country, new friends in Indonesia, and grew to know writers online from around the world.  Good friends aren’t just honored during the holidays, they are nurtured all year long.

So I wish you all a happy and healthy 2013, the comfort of family and friends, and the courage to do what you never thought you could.

I’ll drink to that!

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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Mono Lake, considered one of the loneliest places on Earth.

I cannot imagine writing a eulogy for my child.

When I hesitantly turned on the news yesterday, that is what assaulted me: a mother’s last words to the six-year-old son she was leaving.

As the images of his life flashed on the screen, I quickly left the room.  I would share her grief, her sorrow her tears.  But I cannot imagine doing what she had to do.

The community of motherhood grieves in solidarity after the Newtown school shootings.  Not one of us who has held our child, nursed them through illness, consoled them through sadness, beamed with them through happiness, or cradled them with love, can help but share the pain, the agony, and the devastation that twenty mothers in Connecticut are crawling through every day for the rest of their lives.

And we feel the guilt, too.  

Each time my thirteen-year-old son hugs me, I feel it.

When my sixteen-year-old daughter kisses me goodnight, I feel it.

When I crack open their bedroom doors in the darkness, just to see if they’re breathing, I feel it.

My dear friend, writer Dawn Wink, expressed it this way on her blog, Dewdrops:

“ I immediately envisioned the intricate lace of a spider web, glistening with dew in the morning sun. I thought of the strength and tension of these gossamer strands and how the slightest movement or touch anywhere on the web sends waves of vibration through its entirety. How very like life. The web of each of our lives, interwoven and connected. I think of the web of my own life and relationships – of how often I have felt the vibrations of each movement on each strand. Whether they are vibrations of joy or pain, they affect the whole, ultimately collecting a lifetime of experiences.”

I will feel it on Christmas morning, on the last day of high school and the first day they go to college.  I will feel it on their birthdays, on Halloween, and when they walk down the aisle.  I will feel it when they win a race and lose a friend, when they sing along to the radio and when we savor a sweet chocolate chip cookie made together with love.

I will feel it because it didn’t just happen to them – it happened to all of us.

The fear of watching my children walk away is constant; there is never a time when they leave me that I don’t worry.  Irrational? Maybe.  But in today’s world, in my mind, it only takes an instant.  There is no longer protection in the ‘it won’t happen to me’ world; there is simply randomness, the unexplainable, the irrational.  It could happen to me.  I’m not that special.

There’s a reason I’m called mamawolfe.

Protecting and nurturing my children flows through me with uncontrollable strength.  It fills my days as a teacher and my nights as a mother, consuming any sense of relaxation into dedicating my life to make it better.  Irrational? Maybe.

I have a clear understanding of the need to let my babies go, to trust they will come back.  I clearly comprehend the need to stand next to them as they make their mistakes, take their chances, and find their dreams.  

I whisper daily prayers to the darkness, hoping the universe is listening.  I ask for protection, for comfort, for the universe to fold over our children and take them in.  I breathe a ‘thank you’ as my words are answered, and take my gratitude for everyday life with me.

I have had eleven more years of gratitude than many of the mothers in our web.  I get another day, another Christmas, another morning.  

I feel the vibrations, their howls of anguish.  I know the wetness of their tears and the firmness of the arms around us, holding on for fear of crumpling into the wet earth.  I see the pain, the sorrow, and the fear.  

I just cannot imagine writing it.

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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