Madeline Kate Turns 1-1

One week ago, we celebrated Madeline Kate's 11th birthday.  It was surreal on many levels, and maybe all the processing is why I am just getting around to blogging about it now.  It seems unbelievable this baby of ours is 11 years old!  Naturally, Mama remembers every little thing about how she came to be-- from my denial, fear and excitement of a fourth child... to the sunny, warm, overdue day she came into this world.  That JUST HAPPENED; yet, now, she has all clothes on her birthday list, eats peas, had a gift delivered from her "boyfriend," and is getting ready to go middle school.

It was unusual celebrating a child's birthday under a stay-at-home order, but it sure was not unpleasant.  We are not big partiers, anyway.  A typical Krinke birthday is marked by one grandma making dinner, the other grandma making dinner, cake and presents at home, and maybe a special outing with one or two friends.  This year, we stayed home.  I put up a yard sign and drivers-by honked.  Family socially distanced their greetings and gifts.  Several friends called, FaceTimed, or dropped off gifts at the door.  Maddy got a new basketball, so we shot hoops.

That evening, she told me it was the best day, and she would like to celebrate her birthday in quarantine every year.  She is the best kind of human, and her joy-filled, optimistic approach will mean everything in this life.  Happy, happy birthday, Madeline Kate!  Jesus loves you and Mommy does, too.

We Don't Know

A few years ago, I went to visit some friends who had just had their first baby.  I did the things one typically does: took a meal and some baked goods, had a gift for the baby, waited to be offered a turn to hold the baby-- seriously, you all do this, right, especially with first-time moms?  You walk in, put everything away, pretend you totally don't see the mess, scrub your hands up to the elbows for at least 30 seconds as though you are actually headed into surgery, making sure the mom sees you and knows what you are doing, and then stand and wait.  You don't ask if you can hold the baby; you surely don't grab the baby; you smile gently, looking perfectly calm and capable and sane.  That's how you get to hold a new mother's new baby.

I also did some things maybe other people don't typically do when they visit the home of a new family.  I don't really know; I'm not other people.  I said I had some extra time and asked if the mom would like me to keep holding the baby while she took a nap-- of course, she said no, and looked like she was already missing the baby or like I might be doing it wrong, so I handed back the bundle.  I went to the kitchen and washed up the few dishes in the sink, dried them, and put them away in the cupboards.  I went to the laundry room and took the load out of the dryer, folded it, and did my best to make piles for each family member.  I snuck into the spare bedroom where the breast pump was set up, checked the connections and settings, made sure all the parts were in working order, checked the battery backup.  I went into the bathroom and left some necessary, but private, items-- tools for Mama's self-care-- on the counter.  I found Dad hiding in the bedroom and said, "Your job description just expanded.  Help her.  Get up with the baby-- not every time, just once in a while, to give her a break.  Tell her how beautiful she is.  Right now.  Let her cry, and don't ask why she's crying; just hold her hand and hand her tissues.  Pick up and throw away the tissues.  And, for the love of all that is good and holy, do not pressure her to be intimate with you.  Not this week, not this month, maybe not this year.  Be patient.  She will tell you when she is ready.  When she is, it will be different, but tell her it is wonderful.  Tell her how beautiful she is.  Thank her for the gift of your child."

Then, I cooed over the baby one more time and I left.  Later that day, my friend texted me, something to the effect of: "THANK YOU, HOW DID YOU KNOW?!"  Well, that's easy: I knew because I'd been there before-- four times.  I knew what she was feeling, how she was struggling, what she didn't want to say, how she couldn't ask for help.  I knew because it happened to me, too.

That's the thing about the current situation we are in-- the global coronavirus pandemic: We do not know how to take care of one another, what other people need, what we need... because we have never done this before.  It has never happened to any of us.  We have never been here.  I think that's a huge piece of the emotional and psychological puzzle.  We look to experts and we turn to our families and friends, but NO ONE KNOWS.  And, it's different for every person, of course.

I am not a therapist.  I'm, like, the only person I know who never even took one psychology class in college.  It probably shows.  Sorry.  I do not have any answers.  I share this story and my views as a way to remind us all: We do not know, but we must keep trying and finding things that work.

A week or so ago, we tried to have an early Easter celebration of sorts, social-distancing-style with my MIL and SIL.  We went over to their house, stayed outside, kept significant distance between each of us, and tried to connect.  It was very nice-- a beautiful day, sweet Easter gifts, my MIL as the proverbial host.  We stayed and chatted for several hours and then left.  Days later, one of the kids asked whether we were going to do that with my parents.  I said there were no plans to, and it would be really difficult since that side of the family was much larger.  (It ended up being a non-issue because it was snowy and awful over the Easter weekend and each of my siblings' families as well as my parents did brief, drive-by drop-offs where we just yelled at one another from the front porch.)  Anyway, that same child said to me, "You ruined the day at Grandma and Lisa's.  You were yelling at her like you were mad at her.  And all Dad did was talk about the virus."

I tried to explain that I wasn't "mad" at Grandma-- of course not-- I was just worried about her, really trying to follow the rules to keep her safe.  I said there was ultimately no way to control who contracts COVID-19, but that I felt strongly about doing my part-- our family doing our part-- to stop the spread and not be part of the infection if we could so help it.  And we can so help it.  It is absolutely no fun, and we miss everyone terribly, but we can do this, and we will, if, in any way, it offers some layer of protection for the people we love the most.

Naturally, the children are confused and scared, too.  Each has different coping mechanisms.  Sometimes, they have questions, but, other times, they just do not want to talk about it and do not want to hear about it.  That's understandable, too, isn't it?  There are so many of us... and we are all here... all the time... it is a lot to juggle!

This is an exhausting, draining, confusing, changing struggle.  I suspect we all feel the same.  We are in this together, and I pray that brings comfort, if not answers.  I don't know what to tell you... but I am here for you.

Grocery Reality

Several weeks ago, when we as a nation and a state were beginning to track virus infections more closely but before any actual rules or orders had been set down, my husband said to me, "You know, out of everyone in this house, you are the one who is most at risk for getting really sick with coronavirus.  You have asthma.  You should not be going to Kwik Trip to get the coffee; you should not be going to the grocery store; you should stay home.  I will go for those things."  I thought it was an unexpectedly thoughtful and gallant gesture, and I agreed.

(It should be noted here I have since finally figured out InstaCart and now order all groceries and supplies online.  They are delivered to the house, with no humans having contact with one another, and the bags and boxes sit outside-- to supposedly kill the virus?-- and everything gets wiped down when it does come into the house.  So, Todd's foray was a one-time-only event.)

The evening after he offered, off he went to the grocery store, with a brief list and our most helpful child in tow.  They were gone for FOUR HOURS.  I got three phone calls and three text messages with questions from the store.  (I also got a number of threatening texts from the child, saying how much she hated the experience and would never do it again.)  When eventually they returned, the shoppers came with only about half the items on the list.  Now, this was not entirely unexpected, because grocery stocks have been fair-to-middlin', low really, with limits on common items when they are available at all.  I put toilet paper on the list not thinking they would actually be able to find any, because there hasn't been any toilet paper in any store in our town-- or through major retailers online-- in weeks.  So, no, they couldn't get everything.  But, also, he didn't get everything because he said the groceries cost too much!

These are some of the items and their prices Todd found obscene and intolerable:

• cinnamon bread from the bakery ($4.19)
• bagged salad kit ($3.99)
• canned sports drinks the kids like (usually $1.29 each, but on sale for $0.80 each)
• deli meat ($4.99-$7.99 per pound)

Now, he did buy the drinks-- but just one per child... and he did buy other "outrageously expensive" things like fresh berries, but in the smallest pint (maybe half-pint?) personal containers.  On the other hand, he bought two, huge bottles of flavored cream for his coffee-- because they were buy-one-get-one free.

It was a full two days later when Todd said, "You know, I think I was just so shocked by the prices in the grocery store because I never go to the grocery store."  Gee, you think?

Stay At Home

 the cast of our portion of SOAR's online musical

We here in Krinkeland, along with the rest of our state-- and similar scenarios in most of the country and many countries in the world-- are currently under the governor's stay home executive order.  Anyone reading this is surely in the same situation, understands what is going on with the worldwide pandemic of COVID-19, also called the novel coronavirus; but I mention it for posterity, reference, to capture the moment in time, so we can all remember.  That's maybe the not-funniest joke I've ever written: Our world has been upset, upended, rearranged, altered in every way-- something none of us has ever experienced nor could ever imagine-- and it would be impossible to forget.

I am documenting here the current state of affairs in Krinkeland, and my personal thoughts on this stay-at-home order and its effects.  This is what I am thinking now, today.  Naturally, it could change at any time, particularly under different circumstances, such as someone close to us getting sick with the virus.  It is not meant to diminish or augment anyone else's views or experiences.  I do not expect others to agree with me or even to understand.  My views are uniquely mine, but I feel them in my bones, with blog post lines running through my head throughout the day, so I wanted to leave them here.

This situation has been incredibly difficult, mostly because of the unknowns.  Everything is unknown.  The number of cases, rates of infection, symptoms and transmissions are constantly changing.  At this time, no treatment has been approved and no cure has been found.  Since it was first documented late last year in China, this new virus has claimed the lives of thousands of people.  The epicenter of the outbreak morphed from China to Italy and now to the United States.

Last fall, I went back to work full-time, producing daily newscasts for one of the affiliate television stations in the Twin Cities market.  There are a dozen or more blog posts I could write on going back to a full-time professional life after 17 years of full-time mommy and very-part-time professional life.  This is not any of those posts.  The point is, I have been working a full schedule out of the house and some distance away, and trying (poorly) to also manage my former career in the home.  About two weeks ago, in the midst of trying to give accurate, compassionate coverage of this worldwide crisis, my employer began the process of transitioning many employees to work-from-home.  This, to my knowledge, had never really been done.  I started working from home just over a week ago.  It brings unique challenges, and the usual demands of the job continue, but I am managing them here, in my house.

You will also note from some of the photos, if you have not heard me wailing in the streets, our home is undergoing a massive, do-it-yourself renovation.  We began with what I thought would be a small (but messy) project about a year-and-a-half ago.  It spiraled... and I was wrong... Again, there could be so, so many posts on this, but I am electing at this time not to write about it.  I will say: I am an introvert and home is my happy place.  It has been an extreme toll on me-- on all of us-- to have a house in a state of disrepair that does not feel like home.  That continues to be the biggest stressor in our current situation.  We have had some sub-contractors work on parts of the house, but we cannot hire workers to come into our home at this time (under the order.)  There is also the uncertainty of finances.  Todd and I both went through major employment changes in the past year, and, while everything has remained stable for us so far, there is no telling what impact this virus will have on the economy overall and our case in particular.  Todd is working on the project as he has time, and with the kids suddenly having free schedules, we are all able to pitch in more... attitudes are adjusting and there have actually been moments of fun and joy as we all learn new things and work together. 

Ben doing a kids' and teens' workout on Zoom, in the midst of piles of home renovation materials

So, just before I got my work-from-home assignment, the children all found out they would not be going to school for the foreseeable future.  Again, the situation is fluid.  We just don't know.  But, they were kept home last week; this week coming up is technically their scheduled Spring Break (we were supposed to go to the Dominican Republic tomorrow-- canceled;) the following week the district and the private school are setting up plans to begin distance learning.  It's crazy.  

It is especially crazy for sweet Amanda in her senior year in high school.  Her music trip to New York was canceled.  The spring play-- she had the lead role and Elisabeth was also in the cast-- is canceled.  (And, as I typed this, I started crying... realizing I don't know when again-- if ever-- I will see my two oldest daughters perform on stage together.)  The state student council convention is put off.  Prom will likely not happen.  Who knows about graduation?  Our eldest is handling all of these things in style.  Each child had a set day and time to go to their respective schools and pick up materials and equipment, while not having contact with the other few scheduled students or teachers and administrators-- for everyone's safety.  Amanda came home from the high school with two comments: (1) "Mom, the ONLY thing I had in that building to mark my presence was the combination lock on my locker." (??????) and (2) "Mom, I did not hug Mr. B. (a beloved administrator-- she's in good with all the administrators) I did not even look at him, because I knew I wouldn't be able to control myself."  So, there's that.  In these times, she has been FaceTiming and texting with friends, trying to stay connected and relaxing.  They have all been relaxing, and I have been letting them.  This situation is bizarre and stressful.  And when do we ever have TIME?!

sharing puzzles and games--  because we've done them all-- with neighbors in the same boat

So, here is the thing: Being "stuck" at home with my husband, all four of my children, and our dog, is my dream come true.  It was not always my dream.  It is not always easy or fun.  We get on each other's nerves and it is well established in the universe that I have the shortest fuse around.  I am a creature of habit, and I miss the typical routine.  I really, really miss seeing our parents and siblings and nieces and nephews.  I miss my class at the gym.  I miss getting coffee at Kwik Trip.  I miss meeting up with friends... not that I ever did it very often, but, right now, I cannot.  But I do not miss the hectic lifestyle we had been living.  I do not miss the running, running, running.  I do not miss the constant calendar-checking-text-updating-dropping-off-picking-up-always-forgetting-something and never being able to give the people I love the attention they need and deserve.

This time at home, this time together is my dream come true because it has fulfilled wishes I long ago gave up on and some I didn't even know I had.  Have you seen that parenting tale that floats around the internet-- the one where the punchline is: You don't know it's the last time you're going to pick up your child, but, then, she's too big, and that time in life has passed?  (That one makes me tear up every time I see it, because it's so, too true.)  Well, I long ago gave up on setting a supper time and asking Todd to be home by that time.  He always had trouble meeting any kind of a time demand... and, then, the kids got so busy with their own activities, they were never all here at that time, anyway.  I had quit wishing for a quiet evening at home, together, because the children had so many commitments and it just never happened.  I quit even wishing for the rest of the family to be present at one child's event, because the others were always running in conflicting directions, and Todd and I would have to divide our attention to not miss too much.

I never could have imagined my senior in high school would be able to sleep as much as her body and mind needed, and then would get up and walk the dog or go for a bike ride.  I never could have imagined Benjamin would ask, "Dad, will you shoot baskets with me?" and Dad would drop what he was doing and head to the driveway.  I never could have imagined cooking three meals a day, having time to clean up and prep for the next in between, and then having all six of us sit down at the table and eat together.  I never could have imagined that I could come up from my basement hiding place to pour a fresh cup of coffee and help Madeline email her math test to her teacher.  I never could have imagined we would all spend Saturday night washing and sanding and re-staining baseboards to give them a fresh look-- but we did it!  The children play together, every day, all day.  The older ones taught the younger ones 500... they play kickball in the driveway... they bake cookies... they rearrange their rooms... they make fun of Mom and Dad-- but they do it together.

This time is a gift.  I don't want a gift at the expense of other people's deaths or suffering, struggles and pain.  This pandemic is horrific and each new headline makes it worse.  But these two realities can exist together.  We do not have the opportunity to trade one for another.  I may get new news that makes me feel differently tomorrow.  But, tonight, I am content.  My dream has come true.

a walk with my four kids and Jones-- a dream come true

Best Cousins, Best Actors

This past weekend, the BHS Theatre Department's one-act play won first place in Section 5AA, advancing to the state festival.  It was a powerfully emotional day, in part for the subject matter and performance value of the troupe's one-act, "Watermelon Hill;" and, in part because of the twists and turns and all-around drama in previous seasons preceding this win.  There's nothing to be gained from going back, rehashing, bemoaning... I will just say the past couple years of competition have been rocky, with unexpected and disappointing outcomes.  So, this year, this year, with Amanda being a senior and sophomore Libby sharing the small-cast stage with her sister-- there was a lot riding on a win.

The team did win, and I was so happy for them.  It was so exciting!  The emotions were mixed, however, because the runners-up-- the troupe that came in second place and alternate to state-- was STMA.  That's the neighboring school where my nephew, the girls' cousin, attends... And Kazmer, also a sophomore, was in his school's varsity cast.  And he was very, very good.

I cheered, I congratulated Kaz, I congratulated Amanda and Libby, we all shared lots of hugs and took lots of photos.  It was an amazing outcome.  The students worked so hard.  They were finally able to see and celebrate the payoff.  However, the best part of the event, for me, anyway, happened as the younger children and I were leaving the theater.  Madeline grabbed my hand and said, "That's so great, Mom!  That's so great they won!  I am so happy for my sisters!  Kaz is so happy, too!"  I chuckled and said I, as well, was happy for all of them and added, "I'm sure Kazzy is happy-- but I bet he'd be happier if his team had won."  Maddy was firm, "No, Mom.  I mean, Kaz did want to win-- but he wanted Amanda and Libby to win more."  I asked her why she thought that, how she knew that, and Maddy replied, "Because Kaz told me."

There are many reasons these three goofballs have dubbed themselves "Best Cousins."  I cannot thing of a single reason to argue against it.

Angels Among Us

I don't believe in coincidences.  Everything happens exactly as God plans.  It can be surprising... it can be awesome... it is just as it should be.

I also consider myself pretty calm and collected under pressure.  Really, I think of it as one of my talents.  My pants could be on fire, but I'm not going to go running in the yard, screaming, spinning in a circle.  I will stop, drop and roll... and then get up and keep making dinner.

A couple days ago, both of these personal beliefs came into play, and were challenged, in a single situation.

I was on my way to work, going with the flow of heavy, commuter traffic, on a two-lane highway, about 20 minutes from home and about halfway to my workplace.  On a straight, flat stretch of road, I stopped for a stoplight, but, when the light turned green and the cars in front of me moved, I could not go.  The car stopped-- dead-- in the middle of a busy highway.

It was already a rough morning.  I was struggling with the "work-life balance" (put in quotation marks because there is no such thing-- challenge me if you want, but I know the truth: it's everything-everything all the time and it's exhausting and nearly impossible to do it all.)  There were a lot of things going on-- in my mind and on the calendar-- and I was feeling overwhelmed.  I was actually on the phone with my husband, having a less-than-lovely conversation about all of this, when the car died.

My car is not fancy, but it is properly maintained and only five years old.  It should run.  I couldn't get it to start again and I out and out PANICKED.  I put on the flashers, put down the window to wave around other cars, and screamed into the Bluetooth speaker: "MY CAR WON'T GO!  WHAT SHOULD I DO?!"  I told Todd where the car was stopped and said I had to disconnect; we agreed he would call roadside assistance for a tow truck and start driving my way.  (He was already at work by that time, some distance across the metro area.)  Cars were zooming by my stopped van on both sides, with drivers honking horns and flipping birds.  I knew I would have to push the car off the highway, but I didn't think I could do it myself... so I figured I should call the police-- just to tell them, maybe to get some more muscle power at my location.  I took a deep breath and blinked back tears and looked up one more time.

There, on the shoulder of the highway, was my friend.  She is a kind and gentle woman I have known for many years, though never well.  We first met when our husbands worked together many years ago; we lived in the same, small town (where my car broke down) and the men commuted to work together.  Later, we were having our first daughters as they were adopting theirs.  Then, we moved to the next town, and Todd got a different job, and we lost touch for a number of years.  I knew of them, and would occasionally run into my friend at a store or a restaurant, but we did not connect again until the couple joined the CrossFit gym where I go.  I neglected to mention that during the not-much-contact years my friend went to seminary and became a pastor.

She yelled out her window, "Can I help you?"  And I said, "YES!"  She was already in workout clothes, and sprinted across the highway.  I told her the car quit and I guessed we would have to push it, and I asked her which direction we should go.  She pointed to the gas station across the next intersection, and told me to stand in the driver's door so I could push and steer.  Then, we just went.  Another man had stopped by that time and was pushing with my friend.  A second man in a construction vehicle followed behind to make sure no one hit us.  We got through the intersection and around the corner and brought the van to rest on the shoulder of the side street.

My friend asked if I was OK... asked if she could take me anywhere, bring me anything, sit with me.  I shook my head and I think she could tell I was about to lose it.  I assured her Todd was on the way and I would have to wait for the tow truck, anyway-- after I called work to let them know I was going to be very late.

I eventually got to work, a couple hours after I was due.  I was thinking all the time how grateful I was for my friend, and how I needed to thank her.  Before I could fire off a text to her, she sent one to me-- making sure I was OK and offering a little prayer that my day was getting better.  The day was a disaster... and it turns out the car had catastrophic engine failure-- a repair that is going to cost thousands of dollars and take a couple weeks to fix.  But the day was better, because of her. 

My day was better-- because of her.

Parenting Lows and Highs for the Weekend

LOW
I washed a load of candy wrappers.


HIGH
I overheard the 10-year-old, while assembling a BLT, say to the bacon, "Gentlemen, gentlemen, come now-- we can all get along!"

Alone in the Kitchen

I just started up this blog again, and already I've lost the energy to do it!  In all fairness, this month has brought some crazy-busy times for Krinkeland.  I'll expand upon that at some point, when I'm not so unbelievably exhausted.  One small note on that tonight, however...

Todd and I were talking by phone late this afternoon-- he on his way to put in some office time at work, me on my way home.  Todd exclaimed it was very good that I was on my way home, about 45 minutes earlier than anticipated, because the kids would be excited to see me.  I walked in the door at home to find one kid devouring a plate of leftovers (the good child) and the others huddled around the oven anticipating the timer's bell on a frozen pizza.  We ate together and chatted about our days for, well, I'd say two full minutes before the kids started clearing out for more interesting and exciting activities.  By the time my expected return home time arrived, I was alone in the kitchen.  That is where I remain.

They may miss me when I'm gone, but that doesn't mean they want to hang out when I'm home. #momlife #thatsthestoryofmylife

A Show of Talent and Others

We spent the evening at the high school’s talent show. It’s a fundraiser put on by the music honor society to support the music department. Attending is an annual Krinkeland tradition, at least for the Queen, and the show always has a lot of surprises. What I mean by that, mostly, is there are individuals and acts that typically do not perform at other high school concerts and events. Most are excellent. Some are ridiculous.

My lovelies always seem to land on top of the silly heap. Here are Amanda and Libby performing with the BHS Music All-Stars (a.k.a. their friends):
https://youtu.be/JVQtldJW5Eo

See what I mean? Grandpa said it reminded him of the “shows” the cousins are always trying to put on in his basement— so insulting, and so true.

Amanda and friend Tori, who will star as Adelaide and Sarah in the upcoming high school musical production of “Guys and Dolls,” also had a preview of the show:
https://youtu.be/egkXAaqP490

(Yes, they know it needs work... still five weeks till showtime!)

I will always applaud— well, actually, I typically shout “BRAVO!”— any young performer with the courage and grace to appear on stage. It is not easy... but what a sense of accomplishment they must feel when the audience cheers their efforts. This is true even if the efforts are blown on kazoos, or “gazoos” as Madeline insists on saying.

Lest you think the buzz on Lés Mís was spoofy oddity, I wish to present Amanda’s and Tori’s performance from last year’s talent show, never before shared due to the blogging hiatus... also due to the inanity:
https://youtu.be/U8nyrknRczE

BRAVO!

Taking Care, the Yearbook Edition

Last spring, I sat across the table from the high school's journalism teacher and yearbook adviser.  He smiled his gentle smile and asked, "So, is Amanda pleased with the final outcome of her student life feature?"  My husband always says my face makes it impossible for anyone to not know exactly what I'm thinking, so I didn't even have to open my mouth before the teacher's jaw dropped.  "You don't know about this?!  She hasn't shared it with you-- at all?!"  I shook my head and assured him my oldest daughter rarely shares anything with me, certainly not her writing.

He went on to explain the theme of the yearbook "Out of the Ordinary" and how the book would showcase individual stories of the lives of students in the high school.  Each writer was tasked with finding a story, approaching the subject, getting permission, conducting the interview, and writing the piece.  Most of the features highlighted students who were: athletes with standout seasons, musicians who played multiple instruments, students who had jobs inside or outside of school, high-achieving academics, trendsetters in fashion or some other area.  Amanda's story was about Ruthie and Matthew.  Ruthie was a transfer student to the high school, after getting pregnant, giving birth to her son, and returning to class as a mother.

The teacher told me how Amanda first faced a bit of push-back about her choice of feature.  She next got opposition from her subject, who did not wish to be interviewed, and only consented after a series of conversations during which a friendship was forged.  Then, there was the ongoing discussion of how to present this story of student life.  Was it possible for a peer to tell the story of a teen mom without glorifying her or condemning her?  This educator became more animated as he shared all of this, eventually pausing and asking why I wasn't saying anything.  I said, "I believe you know a bit of my background as a journalist and writer; however, there's no way you could know that in all the years since I elected to be home raising my family, my primary charitable work has been as a resource for pregnant women, struggling families, and foster care providers.  I mostly listen, and tell women I support them in having babies, and then I do whatever I can to actually support them."  The teacher nodded.

A few weeks later, the yearbook was released.  It is a massive tome, impressive and award-winning by all accounts.  Each book also costs about as much as my first car.  Amanda came home from her school day and gushed, "Today was one of the greatest days of my life!"  This, from a girl who seems to do great things every day of her life.  WOW, I thought, and asked, "Why?  What does that mean?"  Amanda said, "Well, this afternoon, all the students got their yearbooks, and, as a staff member, I was working the table distributing them.  It just so happened that Ruthie got in my line, Mom, so I was able to hand her her own yearbook and show her the story, which is right at the beginning.  Ruthie cried, Mom, and she told me this was the best gift.  She was headed straight home to show her son.  Today is Matthew's first birthday!"

I told Amanda how wonderful that was and I gave her a hug.  I took the yearbook from her and read the story for the first time.  She asked me what I thought and I said, "Good job, kiddo!  Now, I've been thinking of Ruthie and Matthew, and I've been meaning to talk with you..."  My daughter cut me off.  "Mama, I already asked Ruthie if she needs diapers or formula or clothes for the baby.  I told her how close we live to the high school, and I offered that I could babysit or Libby could babysit if she ever needs a break and her parents are busy.  I told her you're home during the day to help, too.  She has a good family, Mama.  Ruthie and Matthew have support.  But I know we will always help, too.  I already told her, Mama."

Yesterday, Amanda's high school yearbook staff attended the Minnesota High School Journalism Convention, where this particular student life copy won the Gold Medallion Award, first place, as judged by the Minnesota High School Press Association.  But the greater rewards had already been given.  Yes, I am a proud parent, just as Ruthie is.  Pride, thankfully, is dwarfed by gratitude.  Let us always honor one another, our struggles and our accomplishments, with our care.  The kids are going to have it engraved on my headstone, I swear (as long as I foot the bill for all those carved letters): We are here to take care of each other.

Your Words

I've said it before, and I'll probably say it again, because there just aren't that many new things to say...  But I clearly know some amazing people, with whom I've had wonderful conversations over the years, and whose words echo through my brain-- advising me, comforting me, warning me.  Today, actually, a bunch of those commonly recalled quotes are coming up at once.  I'm not including any attribution here because I don't know if these are original words (though I suspect they all are) and I don't know if the quotables would feel comfortable being named.

"High school is such a short period of time, but so much happens in that time."

"Pain changes people."

"Oh, I don't believe God doesn't intend for us to suffer.  Actually, suffering may be the whole point."

"Some people should not build houses."

"You know that pitted feeling in your belly?  That nag in your mind?  The ache in your heart?  That's your conscience-- it's telling you absolute right or wrong.  No one can ever ask you to go against your conscience."

Scary Mommy

As a follow-up to my previous reference to parent-teacher conferences, I jokingly asked the girls when they got home from school today, "So, what was all the talk on conference night?  Did you teachers all say they loved meeting me?"  The two were quiet.  They looked at one another.  There was probably some kicking under the table.  Finally, one answered, "Uh, no, mine didn't say anything."  The other piped up, "Oh, all the teachers talked about you, Mom.  They're scared of you."  I was indignant: "What?!  Scared of me? WHY?! I'm just a mom who's interested in her kids' academics."  But she held firm, "I know you are, Mom, but that's not how you come across.  They said you are so still, sitting across the table.  You watch them intently and don't say anything; you just nod and show the slightest smile."  The other teen pantomimed her sister's description.

Let me be very clear: Teachers, I support you.  I am on your team.  I show up to parent-teacher conferences so you know that.  I know you don't have much to say about my kids, and that's a good thing, and I'm sorry if you feel uncomfortable and put-on-the-spot.  But, if you're intimidated... if you feel scared?  Well, that's probably because of something you did.

Gratitude Gets You Everywhere

In the middle of Hobby Lobby, my phone dinged.  It was a text from a fellow school mommy friend that just said, "Thank you."  I had done nothing and could not imagine for what she could be thanking me.  She soon followed up the text with, "Hmm.  Sorry, I pocket texted you.  But, thank you for being you."  There were also cute emojis.  It was funny, little thing to happen.

At high school parent-teacher conferences last night. I had quite the rounds to make, what with two students there and wanting all their teachers to see my eyeballs and know I'm invested in my kids' educations.  Conferences went well as, by the grace of God, they typically do for Krinkeland.  I sat across the table from teacher after teacher, who ran down their electronic grade books, displayed examples of coursework, and answered questions related to college aspirations.  Those educators who have taught Amanda and Elisabeth remarked to the letter how different the two girls are.  Most of the teachers' comments were chased by some version of, "But I'm sure you already know that."  I do.

One teacher relayed one child's performance and behavior in her class as all-good-high-achieving-hard-working-helpful-toward-classmates.  Yet, as she took a breath for the wind-up, her eyes brimmed with tears.  "You know what?  At the end of every class, your daughter says 'Thank you, Mrs. (Name), for teaching me.'"  I gave a small smile of acknowledgement and understanding, but she kept staring at me.  Finally, I chuckled just a bit and muttered, "Well, good."  The educator said, "No one else says that."

Say, "Thank you" whenever you're thankful for someone, for something they've given, for something they've done.  It shouldn't be unusual or surprising.  We need one another, and we should acknowledge the value of other humans.  No one does this alone.  Gratitude gets you everywhere.

Making Room

We were a bit early to church this evening, as Benjamin was scheduled to serve mass.  He headed to the sacristy as I found a seat on the end of a mostly empty pew.  As I nodded to those around me, said my "hello prayers" to God, and got settled, an elderly threesome wandered up the aisle looking for a place to sit.  They appeared to be an older, married couple along with one of their mothers. 

I moved way into the pew to give them room and invited them in.  The oldest woman kept going, to the pew in front of me, which was mostly full, and where someone had placed a handbag and overcoat in the remaining empty space.  I said, "I think someone is sitting there, but there's room here."  She wasn't having it.  She moved other parishioners down and motioned for the man and woman to join her.  The man leaned in and said, "Those are someone's things.  It looks like someone was already planning to sit there."  She sat.

I picked up the purse and coat and moved them to the end of the pew I was sitting in.  "Don't worry," I told the couple, leaning forward.  "I'm sure these belong to the sacristan who's helping to organize mass.  She won't mind sitting one pew back here."  They smiled and rested.

Meanwhile, the couple behind me was watching the entire scene, entertained.  The woman leaned over and hissed to her husband, "That woman must be a teacher-- she's a problem-solver," and they chuckled.  No, ma'am, I'm just a mommy.  More than that, however, I'm a churchgoer who has seen lack of welcoming lead to lack of attendance.  I'm not the stinking Welcome Wagon; I'm just a human being who recognizes that everyone wants to feel as though they belong.  Now, be nice!

P.S.  It was fine.  The things did belong to the sacristan, who is a friend of mine.  Her husband and daughter showed up before her pre-mass work was done, spotted the handbag and sat down next to it.  Incidentally, she and her husband are teachers.