“There are two kinds of people in the world, observers and non-observers…”

–John Steinbeck

I could sit here all day, window cracked, listening to the mockingbirds chatter to each other from across the treetops. It’s silent in our house for the moment – late start morning, and everyone’s still tucked into their beds. Safe. Relaxed. Quiet.

The sprinklers just finished misting the garden. Is that a baby hawk I hear? Oh, the coffee tastes like perfection today. Real cream makes all the difference, doesn’t it?

Cola’s wandering up and down the hall, tags jingling as his nails click on the hardwood floors. A dog barks outside-no response inside. Good. He barks too much, anyways. He’s busy surveying the scene – 16 pounds of fierce guard dog protection.

Doves coo. Why can’t I see you? Something is keeping you away from my garden; is anyone else awake to hear your gentle musings? The garbage truck breaks the silence with a piercing beep-beep-beep. Scooping up my garden discards; I really should be spending more time deadheading. Time. Please, stop for a minute-or forever.

It’s going to be 100 degrees today. Should I water the pots? The tender basil, just planted, needs attention. Better bring an ice chest to the track meet tonight. Grapes. Strawberries. Whatever my girl needs.

Yep, that’s definitely a baby hawk. But it couldn’t be in our tree – not nearly tall enough. Morning doves-who are you calling to? It’s going to be a busy day. Train whistle in the distance. Muted cacophany outside my window. Almost time to break this reverie and head into the real world. 8:00 meetings suck. Wednesday morning musings are so much more productive.

Pause to sip coffee. What if we could pause time right now?

Airplane overhead. That’s right – she’ll be on one soon. Gone for most of the summer,then gone for freshman year. Shiver. A car door opens and closes next door. Engine jumps to life. Wonder where college kids drive to this early in the morning? Maybe they’re driving home…I don’t want to go there. Not even close to ready to think about #reallifeofacollegestudent.

Baby hawk again. Stop to sip from my Steinbeck mug. I love Steinbeck. Those were great field trips we used to take. It’s been awhile since we went to Salinas and Monterey. I’m so glad we have our last mommy/daughter trip last weekend. It’ll be awhile before we’re alone like that again – #collegesucksformoms. Really, please don’t go. Stay here. Thanks for taking two AP tests last week, now don’t go. I was just kidding about turning your room into a craft room. I won’t let Cam bust out the wall to double his space. You don’t have room for all your ski gear in a dorm room anyways – #skierproblems. Where will you keep all your Spandex? It’s cold in Salt Lake City, you know.

Morning doves again. I hear you. Why can’t I just stay here all day? You’re both tucked in. Safe. Relaxed. Quiet. Mockingbird, stop. You’re making it hard to leave. It’s just Wednesday. It’s not time to celebrate.

Wait.

It is time. It keeps ticking. Can’t stop it, even though I said I would. But I can feel it.

Wednesday morning musings. Close the notebook.

One. more. sip. Stop. Savor. Breathe.

Oh…why does life have to change?

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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 spend huge amounts of time in the snow.  I mean HUGE.  More than normal people; well,  people who don’t actually LIVE in the snow.

Last weekend, my trip to the snow started like this: left work at lunch,  loaded the car, started up some Taylor Swift on the iPod, and drove off in the early afternoon.

Everything started off really well.  Driving up the hill, leaving the valley fog behind, we were making progress.  Only five hours to Mammoth-no problem before dark.

We even had time to pull off the road and load up on caffeine – it was BOGO Christmas drinks, after all!

This is what a trip to the snow should look like, right?

 As we drove uphill, things went downhill.  Fast.

Momentarily switching on the radio, we heard the news about Newtown.  Tears.  Shock.  Horror.

Then it started to rain.  Not good.  The Prius is a lot of things, but it is definitely not a snow car.

We checked the weather channel app – if we hurried, we’d make it over the pass and into Nevada.  It would be smooth sailing after that.

Looks pretty, right?  It was.  Lily quickly  grabbed the camera while Taylor boomed through the speakers.  So cheery.  A white Christmas?

Not so fast.  Chains ahead.

Highway 50 isn’t called the ‘loneliest highway in the US’ for nothing.  There were NO services, so I had to suck it up and bundle up.  My daughter was watching.  There was no one else who could do it.

Don’t be fooled by the smile on my face.  It was all for the camera.  Inside, I was starting to panic.  Prius in the snow is not my favorite mode of travel.

My spirits were elevated when the CalTrans chain inspectors, amazed that I did it all by myself, fist-bumped me and sent me over the pass.  It was only 12 miles-we could do it.  It was  only 4:00, and with a three-hour drive in front of us, I wasn’t too worried.

Forgoing our usual shortcut, we opted for the pass over into the Nevada desert.  I ditched the chains – again, all by myself, and as snow turned to rain, I thought we were clear.

Damn Weather Channel app.

What looked clear actually became snow.  Lots and lots of snow.  But it was flat, and as we passed through Bridgeport behind schedule, I felt nervous but confident we could make it.

Compared to 50, Highway 395 is desolate.  Flat and decorated with gorgeous rock formations and rivers, I usually enjoy the drive.  But at this point it was getting dark, I was tired, and there was snow hovering way too close to the six-inch clearance of the Prius.

Suddenly, we saw it: the one and only traffic alert sign, pronouncing our need for chains.  Now.

And like a beacon in the night, the Big Sky Motel appeared, equipped with a large floodlight.  It was the only light on the road besides mine, so I quickly pulled into the parking lot and prepared myself.

Like a scene from Psycho, the motel door opened and a grizzled, shaggy man sauntered out in his sweatpants, with an equally scraggly dog following behind him.

“Want a room?  Only $69,” he croaked.  I smelled something – he must have been enjoying himself in the motel lobby.

Although I desperately wanted to say yes, I declined, but when he offered to help with the chains I jumped on it.

Ten minutes later, we were off.  Until the chains broke.  In the dark.

At this point, I felt like Wonder Woman.  Faster than she could spin into her costume, I jumped out and pulled those suckers off.  I was muddy, exhausted, and determined to make it before dawn.

We did.

This is the next morning, enjoying coffee in our favorite funky coffee joint, Stellar Brew.

And this view…what a reward.

She didn’t even mind spending the afternoon in the motel room, studying for finals.

And despite the struggle, the frustrations, and the hours and hours of driving – not to mention the ski race that was canceled, we ended up with a white Christmas after all.  And a whole bunch of memories, too.

Mammoth Lakes 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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As a teacher, I’m trained in school safety procedures. I know how to protect my students in the classroom.

My first instinct when I heard about the Newtown school shooting, however, was to gather my own children near to me. My 16-year-old daughter and I had a road trip planned that afternoon, so we listened to the radio as the news of the victims and shooter began to emerge. She saw tears rolling down my face as I drove.

I tried to explain why I was crying; it’s the shared grief among the community of motherhood that couldn’t be felt by anyone who hadn’t held their baby in their arms. I explained to her about how we cannot fathom the pain the parents of the slain children must be experiencing. I praised the words of commitment toward ending gun violence, knowing that was a tangible action she could grasp. I shared my sadness and horror that a son would kill his mother–but there is no explaining that. All I could do as I drove along was hold her hand and share my tears.

image courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net

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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When I was a little girl I never traveled that much.  Sure, we did the traditional summer vacation camping trips to the mountains, and dutifully drove to visit the grandparents for every holiday.  But REAL travel-to different states, not to mention countries-was definitely not part of my childhood experience.

I remember my big adventures taking my first plane flights to Burbank to visit my Los Angeles area grandparents.  Boarding the PSA airplane felt like stepping into a magical amusement park ride-I never knew quite how I would make it there, kind of felt like I wanted to get off right when I started, and couldn’t bear to leave when it was over.

To my youthful sensibilities, it was paradise.

As I grew, so did my expectations.  Road trips replaced plane travel as my most frequent mode of transportation, and despite a few college trips to Hawaii and a graduation backpacking Eurail trip to Europe to myself, life seemed to get in the way of adventure.  I guess getting married, starting a career and having two children will do it to the best of us.

It actually came as a surprise to my family when in 2010 I decided to go for it and take my kids on a service trip to Nicaragua with an educational non-profit group, Seeds of Learning.  It just felt like the right thing to do at the right time in life.

And boy, was I right.  It was the trip of a lifetime.

I learned more about myself than I ever imagined.  I learned about how I deal with intense situations, how to keep my children safe while allowing them to experience the scary, and how truly vast and stunningly beautiful our world really is.

I hold the memories of that trip close to my heart, and yearn to have another experience that tugs at my soul and provides my kids the chance to learn about life outside our little northern California university town existence.

As most things in my life happen these days, however, another opportunity presents itself to me.  This experience gives me the chance to fly solo, testing my ability to stand alone in the world and trust that again, I’m doing the right thing at the right time in life.

I’m going to Jakarta, Indonesia in three months.  And I’m feeling kind of uneasy.

To be continued…

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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