what thirty-seven looks like...

“How old are you?”

Thirty-Seven.  

“I’ve got ties older than that.”
One of my favorite quotes from my daddy.  He’s said it all my life and I think I might need to go clean out his tie closet but it always makes me laugh. 

There were moments in my life when thirty-seven seemed unattainable.  There were moments when I’m sure I thought thirty-seven was on the older side.  And, now I think thirty-seven is just grand and maybe slightly young.  But, young is a relative term.  The thirties in general are deemed too young to do a lot of things such as have cancer or lose a parent.  And they are also deemed too old for a lot more things like wearing leggings as pants, throwing tantrums in public, and hanging out in college bars.  I looked down at my wrist 4 years ago and saw an armband stamped 33 with my name on it and a diagnosis that pointed more toward subtraction of years than adding.  I was definitely too young for all of this.  

I got a very interesting phone call the other day that kind of jarred me into thirty-seven.  

“Mrs. Jessop?”
Yes?
“You participated in a research study at Vanderbilt a couple of years ago and we periodically need to update our data.”
Yep.  Sure did.
“Well, I was just calling to see, um....well, if you are still alive.”
Yes ma’am.  The last time I checked  I mean, I would actually say very much so since I answered your call.
(awkward laugh and silence)
“Well, thank you.  And, I’ll call back in about three months to check on you again.”
Ok, great.  Well, I hope I answer.

So many thoughts on this conversation:  a) you might want to think about tweaking your script a little b) I’m guessing I’m the only one of my friends that gets phone calls like this, and c) I really AM very much alive.  

In honor of this poor sweet lady who clearly volunteered (let’s hope she wasn’t getting paid) to make phone calls to see if the study participants still have vitals, I thought I would summarize the way I look at life at thirty-seven:

1. I live completely and totally by the Serenity Prayer.  The accept part sometimes comes after thinking I might could change it and trying but still I’m faster at accepting and have a better attitude
2. I wonder why jeans were ever made without 2% spandex so you can squat down.  
3. I buy fruit snacks, Pop Tarts, and Oreos because they are good and I like them.  I also can't resist a pronto pup. 
4. My prayer request list is full of people with cancer and people who have lost a parent or sibling and while I’m thankful that I’m not on the list, I grieve and empathize as I pray for them because I’ve been there.
5. There is an exact replica of a salamander in my car that is riding in the floorboard.  I see it all day long and he looks real and like he’s riding there and hanging onto the carpet.  I don’t move him because he makes my think of my son and how he would catch him if he was real. 
6. I tell my kids that life is not fair, that someone else always has more, and that they ALWAYS have more than someone else.  And, if they question that, I drive them to the parts of town where I work. 
7. I hold a small warm puppy that I got for my kids but realize that he is really mine to mother and that he better be glad he’s cute when he wakes up and poops on my floor.  
8. I spend the afternoon of my 37th birthday in a pile of magazines cutting out pictures for a fourth grade novel project, hours hot gluing tiny marshmallows to styrofoam to look like an igloo, and another hour collecting items for a lake habitat that will fit inside a shoebox and will surely be saved forever under someone’s bed.  
9. I ride in the passenger side of our jeep on the way to watch our son play baseball, and catch a glimpse of my signature on my husband’s wrist and know that he really is my favorite person and my biggest fan. 
10. I purposefully expose my kids to differently-abled people so that they learn to be sensitive to their needs and to give them empowerment and not fear.
11. I spend $6.99 on hair dye in the grocery store because I saw grey hair that probably came from trying to figure out how to get my son to love reading and my daughter to spell correctly, or maybe just thirty-seven. Besides, $8.99 was highway robbery.
12. I have no less than 10 hand made birthday cards displayed all over my house made by my precious little girl because she loves to draw and loves her mommy.  They even have turkey hands because I love those too.
13. I schedule my oncology appointments around my vacation, not my vacation around my oncology appointments.  
14. I have at least 10 people that I could text and they would drop what they are doing and help my family, anytime, any day and I would do the same for them.
15. I used to be embarrassed of the fanfare of blowing out candles in a public restaurant, but now I pack my own candles, my own personal cake, AND a lighter, because, IT’S ON.
16. I’m driving down the road and find myself crying for a few minutes on my 37th birthday because I wonder what my mom would say to me today.  I almost hear her and can see her walking through my door with the chocolate cake with chocolate nut icing, from scratch. 
17. I look at my daughter and see my exact profile and look at my son and see my exact eyes.  I give thanks for who they are and that they are mine.  
18. I still think Hootie and the Blowfish is good music and at 37, I am one inch from the stage, singing every word to every song and catching picks from the band.  My ears ring for 2 days because I’m 37.  
19. I volunteer in my daughter’s classroom every week to listen to children read.  She hugs me no less than 6 times while I’m there.  It’s worth my time.
20. I am not afraid to lay it out there.  Even the ugly stuff.  Everybody’s got it. 
21. I would likely get the same satisfaction from 30 minutes of alone time in Target with a Starbucks as I would an island getaway. 
22. I meet people everyday who are struggling.  I remember my own struggles and how no one could ever see all the way through me, and no one knows what I encountered before I saw them that day but it’s not their fault, and how I don’t know what others have encountered.  I think of this when they check me out at the grocery counter, sit by me in the hair salon, or before I knock on their door.  Everybody’s got something. 
23. I am still trying to figure out what kind of mom I am because it’s not a dance mom, play mom, baseball mom, or Disney mom.  
24. A guitar and an amp are pieces of furniture at my house.  I have more of them than furniture but they are a lot louder. 
25. There are a million fingerprints on my back door from the million kids that come in and out of it everyday.  As I clean it, I remember when they were all on the bottom half and now I have to clean the top half too.
26. I wonder if I’ve gotten to the point where random people see me they ask each other, “Isn’t she the girl with all that cancer?”
27. I give thanks for the scars.  They gave me life.
28. I set entertainment expectations low for my kids.  This way, they are pleasantly surprised when things are extra fun but mostly I’ve learned that they prefer simple over grand and time over money.
29. Research is not just about sitting in a lab.  It’s about saving people’s lives. I get it.  
30. If I were to sit in the smallest chair in my home at any given moment, both of my children would still try to sit in it with me.  
31. I ask myself how much it matters before I say yes.  Or no.  
32. Box macaroni is still good.
33. I know that sometimes cute earrings can completely change your day.  And your outfit. 
34. I am totally entertained by life, the people in mine, and the people that make it happen.  
35. I can’t live without text messaging.  It allows multi-tasking, an outlet for one-liners, and my coordination has greatly improved.  
36. I know that God really does have a sense of humor.  Or I do, and I’m comfortable enough to laugh at all of this mess. 
37. On my 37th birthday, I got gifts, cards, well wishes, cakes, messages, candles, and singing voicemails, but nothing compares to the silent high five that my God gave me and whispered, “You made it.  We made it.” 

This is Thirty-Seven. 
Thirty-Seven is good.

“You don’t have to live forever, you just have to live.” - Tuck Everlasting (from my fourth grade novel project). 

KJ

My mom at 37.  Lovely.

Blame the Mayans

I remember fourth grade like last week.  Because, it was. Only this time, I’m 36 with 2 kids, a job, a husband, a house to clean, and bills to pay while I cook dinner and try to figure out what exactly the Mayans did for us.  By the way, it was calendars - they had calendars, and they watched the sun move to see what time it was and knew a lot about math.  So, the Mayans are to blame, really, for the rows of days we live by, filling the squares with this and that, and taking kids here and there according to what the square says.  

They’re back in school - Glory to God in the Highest, and blessed are the poor in spirit all at the same time.  I’ll openly admit that I rejoiced on day one.  The reasons are many.  I had completely had it with watching them lounge in front of Disney channel with ratty hair and too short shorts.  I was tired of hearing the pantry door slam 20 times an hour before dinner, and very tired of the “everyday is Saturday.” mantra.  But, one hot day in August, those kind people in the public schools opened their doors to stimulate my children’s brains and bring back the order.  I am grateful.

However, the shift from nomadic life to blue collar worker comes as a bit of a shock.  I’m stirring dinner with one hand and calling out spelling words while making sure that the one has been appropriately borrowed.  We are full-on, full-speed, knee-deep into school, schedules, and calendars.  And, about every other day, Kate still asks, “do we have to go to school this day?”  There are things I have not missed - the folders, the papers, 2 sets of sign up sheets, please signs and returns, and please reads, and don’t forgets.  It all came back to me on the first Tuesday when I saw those green folders.  The anxiety over the stacks to sift through - to keep, to toss, and the unsure pile.  I undoubtably will toss a keeper so the unsure pile just grows.  It’s so confusing.  There’s the signing - one needs papers signed, both need agenda books signed, one needs conduct signed or my kid will do the walk of shame to sign the book and advertise the mom fail of the night.  

Then it’s on to the first grade spelling.  Mercy.  As soon as I laid eyes on the “challenge list” the first time I knew we were in trouble.  I tried to find common ground in the rules of grammar with no avail.  “Take” has a “k” but “picnic” and “attic” have “c’s,” and “blonde” has an “e” on the end because it just does.  We’ve done all the computer games, mock spelling tests, write the words 3 times each, and she STILL spells them how she wants to every single time.  Spelling with Kate is a lot like Groundhog Day.  Next, I sit down with a math worksheet and a boy and try to help figure out how many ways other than the right way you can get the answer to 4 times 6.  After a quick glance at the “suggested” websites to enrich learning, it’s time for multiplication timed drills, study guides, and we head to bed for the 20 minutes of required reading.  No wonder so many schools are failing.  

When the lights are out, I clean out the backpacks for anything I missed and to make room for the next day’s paper piles and find treasures like these...

"Bracelets are fun to put on and other jewelry."

And this one:

Apparently, they were were making safety posters.  Note that the box is not checked with approval by the teacher.  Later that night, she said, "Never cross the street without an adult....hmmm, I should have used that one.  It's way better than never jump on your mom."

This child is definitely beating her own drum.  She is also a self-appointed expert on the countries of Africa and India.  “Did you know that Rumanda has a lot of people?  It is a city in Africa.  There are lots of nice things there.  The people there have jobs and they are happy.”  All of this information is coming from the pages of Tina Fey’s book while I’m standing in a store return line.  She swears she speaks 3 languages.   

There’s this conversation:

“I can speak other languages.”

me:  “Really?  What do you speak?”

“I know African and Indian.”

me:  “Oh, is that right?  Where did you learn those?”

“Well, you know, I’m from another planet than you.” 

me:  “Really?  What planet are you from?”

“Well, I’m from Africa, then I moved to India but I got tired of that so I moved to Nashville and now I live in Germantown.”  

“Interesting.”

And, the boy - so many growing pains in fourth grade.  He’s no where close to grown or responsible but it’s the age where you realize that he’s closer to middle school than kindergarten and you are torn between doing it all for him and letting him figure it out.  It’s semi-painful to watch the turmoil but you realize it will be more painful later if you don’t let him flounder a little now.  So, you start having real and honest conversations about choosing friends, things in life that aren’t fair, and how adults sometimes act like children.  On the one hand, you are thrilled when logical decisions and observations come out of his mouth but on the other, you want to be sitting on the couch with his chubby legs wrapped over yours naming the trains in the Thomas the Train catalog.  

As happy as I was to know they were back in school with friends, structure, and brain stimulation, I will admit to being a tiny bit sad on the first day when I went upstairs to make their beds and pick up toys.  The sheets were still warm from their interrupted sleep and Kate’s dollhouse had furniture spilling out on the carpet lawn from their “picnic” from the day before.  Bailey’s legos were on the floor and my iPad was on the Sports Authority website.  I just left it.  Because, a few short hours they would return, with all new information about who they sit next to and who they didn’t see all summer, who had a weird haircut, and what color shoes everybody had on.  And, I would realize all over again that it really is a gift to watch them grow and change and to know that by the end of the year one will read well and the other will be writing short stories and doing long division.  Both will see their friends every day without me having to arrange it, she will continue to so her own thing, and he will automatically take on the responsibility of looking out for her, and she will be both thrilled and annoyed that he tells her what to do.  

If you are me, you give yourself a high five each time you walk your kids to a new school grade and count your blessings as you count the steps into the building.  You remember when those lanky legs could barely be seen between the shorts and the ankle socks and when that mouth that’s sounding out new words was holding a pacifier.  You choke up when you see your daughter march down the hall to audition for the school play because you know she’s got more confidence than you ever did, and when you son gets an award because someone besides you thinks he’s terrific.  You call out spelling words for the 10th time this week and dig deep into the culture of the Mayans,walls of plant cells, and common core, because you made it to first grade and fourth grade, one more time.  

My favorite "kindergarten ready" picture

First day. 2011.  The magic was over in kindergarten.  He's terrified, and she's carrying a baby doll.  

 First grade Bailey and first grade Kate.  Note the stark contrast in my children. 

First day, 2010. 

She insists on a backpack to walk him in and can hardly wait 2 more years for this.  

First day, 2014.  

He is making sure she looks ok to be seen with him and she's trying to get ahead of him.  

2014

Just after they've left - the remnants of homework, paper signage, breakfast, baseball practice, and my keys that I won't be able to find later.