My Real Life

I love to write. I love to write so much, sometimes, it’s hard to concentrate on other things because I have words rolling around in my brain that I want to get down on paper (or screen) as soon as possible.

But I have a very busy life, and often, that life makes it difficult to find the time to put the words down in any sort of understandable format, and so my writing? It falls by the wayside.

The birthday blogs for the kids? That comes easily, and I make the time for it because celebrating my babies is job numero uno, but other than that, you may have noticed that, over the years, the blog posts have been few and far between.

Sometimes, however, someone gives me a writing task.

Hey, Amy! I need an article about this topic. So, I sit and I write them. Heck, I wrote a ton of articles about oil tanks a few yeas ago and, believe it or not, I loved it.

Hey, Amy! I need help with this email. So, I think and compose and the email gets written.

Hey, Amy! I need help with this job application. And, I reorganize and rephrase and reword, and there it is.

But, all of that is me writing for someone else. About something else. And, while I truly do love it, (and would like to do more of it, so please, feel free to ask!), it’s not necessarily writing for me.

So, when a call went out for people to write about teachers and/or teaching, I jumped at the chance.

Because, I love writing, but you know what I love just as much?

Teaching.

So, I wrote.

And I submitted.

And guess what, friends?

My essay was chosen for a new anthology on teaching called “Will Work for Apples.”

Catchy title, right???

You may remember when I was one of the co-authors of “I Just Want to Pee Alone” a few years back?

And when Monkey Girl was published in the anthology “You Do You,” last year?

The amazing, Jen Mann, has done it again, and has brought together a variety of essays about teaching and teachers and it is going to be a wonderful tribute to the most noble profession, and I am beyond honored to be one of the contributors.

The book will be available in all formats and from all vendors (Amazon, Barnes and Noble, iTunes, etc) at the end of April, so please, keep your eyes open so you can be the first to get your copy!

Writing is good stuff, my friends.

Writing about my passion?

Even better.

I’ve been putting off writing this particular blog post.

Because my girl is 18 today.

An adult.

But not an adult.

My baby.

My adult child.

I have approximately six months before she leaves for college.

I am so excited for her to start this new chapter in her life, but I cannot truly put into words how much I am going to miss her. 

She is everything I had hoped she would be.

Kind, happy, smart, loving.

I love her for who she was, and I love her for who she is. 

There’s too much I want to say, and for the first time, I am finding myself at a loss for words.

So, I’ll leave this video with you from April of 2010. 

It may seem strange to share a video that I am in to celebrate her, but it’s what I’ve got.

She and I were going to perform in the talent show, that year. But she got sick a few days before and we cancelled. But she wanted to do our act anyway.

Were we great? Nope.

But when I listen and know how that voice has transformed into something powerful and strong over the years, and when I look and know how that girl has turned into something even more powerful and strong?

Oh, my heart.

Skip to 1:27. That’s where the magic starts.

I love this child, and she continues to be as sweet today as she was in this video which makes me cry every time I watch it.

Because this eager, precious little girl is 18 today, and I couldn’t be prouder.

When you deal with teenagers all day and then come home to 3 of your own, you can sometimes forget that 7 is a tough age.

There are a lot of fears and feelings that come with being 7, and the world is very big and you are very small.

And today, this guy is 8.

This boy, at 8, is a love.

He is so many things wrapped into one, little boy.

He loves soccer and football and hockey.

He loves cars and wrestling and racing.

He loves unicorns and kittens and My Little Pony and books about fairy worlds.

He loves his sister and his brothers and his parents wildly and unabashedly.

He sings when he’s happy.

He never stops talking.

Like, ever.

Seriously.

Never.

8 isn’t much bigger than 7.

The world is still very big, and he is still very small.

But he’s figuring it out and he’s working through it and he knows he’s got all of us on his team for those times that figuring it out is just too much for a little guy.

We love him with all of our being.

And today, he’s 8.

15 today.

I thought I would have a really hard time with his turning 15. 

15 seems to be the age at which you are a real teenager.

At 13 and 14, a person is still newly minted as a teen. Still babies.

But 15? 

15 is in young man territory, and I’m no longer having a hard time with this, because he really is giving us a glimpse into what kind of man he is going to be, and so far, he’s someone I am so proud of.

He’s encountered many challenges this year, and he’s met them all head on. 

His time is encumbered with two hockey teams, which means up to eight practices a week, some weeks, and at least four games a week.

Yet, he loves the sport and he makes sure he gets his work done. We never have to pester, or even ask, really, if he’s finished his homework, because he always has.

He talks and emails teachers when there is a concern and doesn’t rely on us to advocate for him, although we would, in a heartbeat, if it was needed.

He saves the money he makes instead of spending it all immediately.

We can hear that deep voice shouting and laughing, joyfully, from the basement while he plays his PS4 (which he bought for himself) online with his friends.

And as much as he is turning into a man, he is still my little love.

He makes us laugh every single day. He consistently pulls practical jokes on Real Man and I, delivers dry, one-liners with the comedic timing of a pro, and is old enough to understand the humor that we enjoy.

His heart is so big and he loves us all passionately, even if the words don’t always leave his mouth.

He is six feet of awesome.

He’s 15 today. And I’m okay with that.

This baby. This little, tiny child. He’s 13 today.

This one, my third of four, is his own man. 

He’s quiet. So quiet. He could easily slip through the cracks because he doesn’t complain, doesn’t ask for anything, doesn’t demand attention.

As a baby, for a few month period, he cried for hours, starting at 10 pm on the nose. 

We would have to walk-bounce him in this weird inverted v-deep knee bend to keep the noise at bay, and still, he would persist.

I like to think he got it all out of his system in those early years because now he is the most low-maintenance child I’ve ever seen.

But we see him.  We know him. 

I have never met someone who truly doesn’t care about what people think of them, but this one? He doesn’t.

He’s private, introspective, and quiet. 

But if you know him? If he has let you in? 

Hysterical.

He’s fiercely creative.

He’s in a constant state of creation. He makes cardboard boxes into castles, turns pvc pipe into light sabers, and can do just about anything with a roll of duct tape.

He is endlessly patient and kind with his little brother, despite just how “extra” Tiny can be with him.

He loves his big brother and sister and cherishes any time he gets to spend with them, even if it’s time doing a whole lotta nothing.

He is a love to Real Man and I, and will do whatever we ask him to do, even if he is right in the middle of something.

He’s 13 today, and I can’t believe it, because he was always my baby. Even Tiny’s birth couldn’t erase the five years when this guy was the youngest. 

I’m so excited to see what he winds up doing with his life. I don’t really care what it is. I just hope that it makes him happy. 

Because this kid?

He brings me such joy.