I haven’t counted the number of times that I wrote in March, so I may not (and probably did not) write for half of the days. But I did write seven or ten or thirteen times more than I would have without the Slice of Life challenge.
Some days my life seemed boring; some days my life was too personal; and some days my life was too busy.
I appreciated the support from the blogosphere. I found it interesting and inspirational the random musings that I would post that readers complimented me on. It was confidence building and motivating to know that I could write well, whatever that means, off the top of my head.
I read a tweet by Roxane Gay recently that said if you are going to blog, do it regularly, whatever that may be. My blog was never intended to be a slice of my life; rather, I wanted it to be a way to share my experiences as a teacher and a provider of professional development, and that will continue to be my focus. I’ll just make sure to do so regularly; I’m thinking every other Sunday as a way to regroup from the previous weeks and to focus for the upcoming weeks. Essentially two times per month feels doable.
So, thank you to everyone who read my slices, whether or not you left a comment. I hope to see you back here for my regular posts, and I will certainly be revisiting your pages in the future, too!
As of this morning, I am no longer the mother of two children; well, until this morning I was the mother of one child and one legal adult (although not legal enough to drink alcohol). I am still the mother of two sons. And I’m still mostly a helicopter parent. But I no longer have to worry who will raise my children if something catastrophic were to happen to both my husband and me; legally, my sons can now take care of themselves. My younger son, for these last seven weeks of high school, can now excuse himself from school. My younger now needs to sign paperwork at his doctors’ offices for them to speak with me. I no longer have children.
I’ve never heard anyone describe being a parent like this. I just had a realization as we sat at dinner last night that my children are adults, and, really, “adult children” is an oxymoron. We are either children or adults, at least legally. Sons/daughters can be either age, as can offspring. And my sons are siblings no matter what their ages. If they were to act goofy or silly, people would look at them askance and disapprove of their childish behavior.
And while I loved every phase of my sons’ childhood, even missing those little boys sometimes, I equally love the experiences that we’ve shared as they have grown into adults. The next few months will involve many new experiences: a son turning 21, a second son leaving home to attend college, and both sons making numerous decisions that have long-term impact on their futures. My adult children.
While they may no longer be children, I have no way to stop being a mother. Whirring helicopter blades and all.
It wouldn’t be a spring break trip without at least one gallon ziploc bag full of seashells that I have no need for. But I have learned a lot over the years about collecting seashells.
Low tide is a must. Wearing polarized sunglasses helps you see the shells under the water (sea creatures, too). A couple different people today had children’s insect nets to catch the underwater shells–I will remember that for next year. Pack a few ziploc baggies to hold the collection at the beach and then a few dry bags for the trip home.
And if you are flying and planning to carry on a backpack full of shells, because they would put you way over the 50-pound weight limit, you will need to place each bag in the tray because the X-ray machine cannot see through the shells.
Today my husband and I revisited a beach that my boys and I went to five years ago (my sons would not appreciate the sharing of this photo). It is Coral Cove Beach in Tequesta, Florida. From five years ago, I remember this beach having a lot of really cool long finger-like shells. We collected there a couple times trying to find the perfect ones. Today we arrived to a plethora of shells (the second picture). Literally all one needed was a bucket and a shovel. I don’t know if there was a recent shellfish die-off or if there was recent dredging, but the shells were more than abundant. In wish my boys had been here; even as a college junior and a high school senior (their ages now), they would have loved to spend the day hunting for the perfect shells.
I did manage to limit myself to one gallon-sized baggie. But I plan to check it this time.