Moment of Silence and Prayers of Hope Please

A little boy that lives near us went missing this evening.

He is 7 years old.

He plays where my children play.
And today they all played together, like many days.

He was in my daycare class two years ago.
He is a sweet, friendly, neglected child.
You know the kind.

He is Lost. Or worse, but our thoughts do not want to go there just yet..
Darkness is falling...
We must find him and bring him home.

Please, please, say a Prayer, even if you are not a believer in prayer..
Pass this on.

Edited to add: As of yet, this morning,3/30 we do not know more. Rescue people and search parties combed the complex all evening, and as of last night, when I asked a neighbor if she had heard anything, he had not yet been located.

Wild idea

So, after over a month of not posting, I thought I should write a little something. First, let me say that I have been reading blogs here and there and commenting when I have the moment. I miss being able to sit and pour out my thoughts, but I am focused on a new venture at the moment that is demanding all my attention (well, whatever is left over after parenting demands and work responsibilities!)

Things are going well right now. I am getting settled into my job, but have my sights set on something way larger.
I have been throwing myself into researching the possibility of opening my own childcare center/after school program.

After I started back to work in the field, I realized how much a part of me it really is and I want to expand on it, grow something from that passion.

I have been spending all of my spare time researching and reading about state laws and regulations, perusing properties for sale, designing a budget with start-up costs, a business plan, etc. I am all set to take a Pre-licensing workshop at the end of this month and I am really looking forward to that. I hope to walk away from the 2-day workshop with a solid handle on what to do next and where to get started.

On the parenting front, Jacob has turned 10 and is having a positive run of things right now, so I am enjoying that while it lasts. Max is going to play baseball this season, so we are gearing up for practices and games and time spent at ball fields in the evenings (which will be nicer when the weather warms a bit). Journey and Serenity are both conveniently settled into the childcare where I work, so I can see them during the day.

Hope everyone is doing well, and I will update more on my venture as I can!

Full Circle

So, first things first.
I have a job. Finally.

Been a long time coming for sure. These past few months have been, well.... I suppose humbling is the right word.

See, three years ago when I made the choice to go back to school, I thought the outcome would be different than it has turned out to be. For the ten years previous, I had been working as a teacher in early childhood education (childcare), and when I started to have kids of my own that profession became even more challenging than the every day demands of being a teacher presented in and of itself.

Coming home in the evenings to children, after having been with 18-20 children all day long was taking it's toll on me and my ability to appropriately mother my own kids, I felt. I loved my job as a teacher, but I was exhausted, emotionally drained each day, impatient, and short with my children when they certainly did not deserve it. Then there is the fact that a childcare teacher, even a Lead Teacher with experience, only earns on average 8-9 dollars per hour. IF they are lucky enough to work for an established center with accreditations and the funding needed to run a great childcare center. Definitely seems too low when one takes into consideration that the fees for childcare are so astronomically high, ranging from 100 per week up to 240 per week, depending on center, location, and other factors.

In addition to the emotional struggles, it was also becoming increasingly difficult to support my family on such meager wages. In 2004 I made the ultimate decision to rearrange my life and enroll in classes full time so as to finish as quickly as possible. Three years later (last August), marked my finishing point. I had earned my Associates degree as well as my Bachelor's. I couldn't have been happier, more excited, more enthusiastic to face what I was certain lay ahead. A better job most definitely, a better home, a safer car, more opportunities for my kids, the ability to save for their college educations, etc, etc. That was seven months ago. Seems like a lifetime ago.

Over the last few months I have learned things about myself that I would not have come to know if I had not been placed in this situation. My goal for going to school, aside from family-related ones, was to work in the community to help other families living at or below the poverty line, single parents who need to be assured that things can work out for them, children who are in broken homes and need emotional support. You name it, I wanted to be a part of it. I had lived it after all, hadn't I? Who could help better than a person who had been among the lower class, living in subsidized housing, raising children alone, earning less than what it takes to live without government assistance?

I could attest to the stress and discomfort of sitting in the waiting lobby of the local social services office. I had lived the feelings of inadequacy and failure, being forced to ask for help during months when I had been out of work even for a few days with a sick child or standing at the check-out in the grocer paying with a benefit card - the only way I could afford food for my family. Those feelings were enough to propel me into wanting to make a difference, even if it was just a kind face behind the desk with a few comforting, friendly words to say to a client sitting in front of me facing the same circumstances in which I had once found myself. Because sometimes, those people make a world of difference in just their attitudes, you know? Sure, some people are always out to beat the system and have a false sense of entitlement, but in my experience, most of the time when a family applies for social assistance, it is driven by pure need and desperation and should be met with kindness and compassion, not patronization or hardness.

So, I was all stoked about getting in there and getting my hands dirty! That is, until nothing came my way. All doors I approached slammed with resonance. No windows appeared to be opening, no opportunities were coming my way, despite many attempts to market myself. I went to interviews, sent out resumes, filled out online applications all under the field of human services. I was constantly being told to go get more education or have 2 years of experience before coming back.

Huh? Excuse me?

Slowly I began to quiet down, quelling the panic rising inside and listen to that little voice that we love to ignore in our bustling around trying to fix everything and do everything ourselves.
Before I could be of any help to others, I must first help myself. I must first change things within myself concerning the way I was looking at the world, what I was mirroring for my children without realizing it. I was piling upon them values that I would be in the community striving to squelch and overcome.
I have come to realize that my own little family unit needs some healing of its own before I can reach out and offer myself or my experiences to others.

Suffering must be felt in it's entirety, and not rebelled against, or it will avail itself constantly. It will not leave. It's patterns will not be erased.
I have found myself, these last few months, being forced to once again ask for financial help, sit in the lobby of Social Services, and feel it again. I am recognizing the lesson for what it is and I must never forget. I must remember what it feels like to be drowining in desperation, to not know where the rent will come from, to seek a job and be unable to find one, to beg for help with food, to cry at the pain of losing the dreams I had built for myself and my family.
Slowly the realization crept upon me. Maybe, just maybe, this is all I can do and will be. The hard part was making peace with that, to love myself despite everything. To release attachments to what I want to have and be truly grateful for what we do have. To accept these things without harboring judgements or blame. Talk about eating a few slices of humble pie, folks. No more tooting my own horn or feling like I was going to 'rise above it all'. I am 'it all'. This is 'it all'.

With the acceptance of these soul-wrenching realizations, I have found a job working in a childcare facility, in a Pre-K classroom. I can legitimately say, that although the job pays a mere $9.50 per hour, I am excited to have it. Even three months ago, I would not have taken a job back in childcare, feeling like I was 'past all that' and 'deserved' something better. But, in all honesty, I am looking forward to it. It is what it is, and it is mine. For as long as I need it. I still have a special place in my heart for my dreams and goals, and I will visit that place often, keeping those dreams alive with feelings of love and acceptance.

Things have come full circle. But, oh what a circle of completion it is. As impossible as that may be to the minds of logic and geometric explanation.

Certain things simply cannot be explained.

Surviving

So, Survivor premieres tonight.
Need I really say more?

This has become a tradition in our little family, my children and I.
We pop the corn, grab the M&Ms (one of the few times I allow candy AND it is on a school night--ain't I a cool Mom?)
and beach out in front of the TV for some laughter at the silly antics, some wowing at the bugs and creatures on the exotic islands, some cheering for the challenges, pretty much an all-around good time.

Just me and my kids, hanging out.

This is funny ya'll

So, we are getting ready to eat supper (yeah, we say supper) and I was handing out the placemats for the table.
On two of the mats is a map of the country with some trivia and of course, the capitol for each state.

The following conversation ensued:

"Max, do you know the capitol city of Montana?"

To which my adorable, darling son replied while rolling his eyes and heaving a sigh:

"Of course I do, Momma. Everyone knows that the capitol of Montana is M."

Of course it is.

Past Expectations. Present Realizations. Future Predictions.

I found something.
Not something that was lost, but something I once considered valuable. Treasured it enough to make sure I packed it among valuable keepsakes.
I now consider it a porthole to a time in my life where I was full of innocence, dreams, the freshness of youth.

My highschool graduation dreambook. You know of which books I speak, those glossy, plastic obnoxiously colored binders that contain pages entitled "in five years, I see myself" and "by ___age I will be married and have ___children".

When I laid eyes on this book, I almost laughed out loud with glee. Along with the potent smell of the plastic, rushed forth the smell of my high school, the feelings of being a senior and feeling like all the world is at your fingertips. Like a tidal wave, it cascaded over me, flooding me with emotions and memories. Out fell various cards, envelopes and photos from that year.
Where did I see myself in ten years? Finishing med school. (oh, yeah. I remember that dream)
I would be married by 25 and have 3 children. Well, so that didn't quite play out now did it? At least the married part. As for the children I was blessed more than I thought I would be.

Looking through the photos, I found one of the friend I have lost touch with and have been trying to locate for over a year now. She and I had a close friendship back then, planned to live near one another and let our children grow up together, but didn't protect the bond from distance and life choices that carried us far away from one another, little bits at a time, yet more rapidly than we realized and too fast to hold on.
I came across the picture of my first love. The man I was engaged to when I was but a mere 17, naive' and nothing but a child. He was in the Navy and I thought he was the best thing that ever happened to me. But once again, distance changed that, he went his way through the world, we tried to hang on while he was transferred here and there across the country, but it is hard to grow a relationship when you only see one another twice a year. So, that too, fell away.
I saw staring back at me the face of a friend who died two years after graduation. She sacrificed her mind, body, and spirit to those strong forces of evil and before her passing, became a stranger to me despite our decade of friendship.
Lost in the moment now, I plowed through the lists of favorite songs, movie stars, and other superficial, yet *very important* information. Seems strange now, to ask a graduate favorite color, food, place to hang out. But, now through the eyes of a 32 year old, it is for these moments. Moments where we, as adults, get a chance to read about the things we forgot about ourselves. The things that were important to us, and are important to our children...an opportunity to remember and possibly resurrect old dreams and passions.
Holding the tassel and reading the graduation announcement, I felt her. She swept past me, wrapped her arms around me, I could hear her laughter far off in the distance. She is still there, that girl. Her dreams may have evolved, her predictions may have altered, as life tends to have it's own plans and paths of destiny. I see her when i watch my daughters play. I hear her in their little voices, as they chatter and dream about, one day, being big girls.

Reluctantly, I packed my book away in its safe place, probably to remain there for another ten years. Maybe when my children are near the age I was when i wrote it, I will bring it back out and share it. Share the person I was before I was Mommy. Because she is worth getting to know too.

Building memories. And a bear or two.