Being human

8 / 22 / 15

“You haven’t written anything spiritual in a while, “ Erron asked me recently. “Everything OK?” I tried not to get defensive. “Yeah, well…I just haven’t had anything to say….” I stammered back. “….and I can’t write it if I don’t mean it.” Erron nodded in understanding, “Just checking.”

It’s a mysterious thing, this journey of faith. The lows in life can lead you to your greatest spiritual highs, and that’s definitely where I found myself last year. But nothing lasts forever, it’s the nature of being human. Not to say my relationship with the Man Upstairs isn’t still a central part of my life, but it seems less obvious now than it did in crisis mode and I’m trying to get used to this new arrangement. I’ve got friends who seem to hear from God often and clearly. That’s not typically been my experience although I felt His presence tangibly last summer. It was faith in Jesus and a God of Good that brought undeniable comfort, carrying me through June and well into the following year. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the closeness…I know nothing has changed, but now that I’m standing steady on my own two feet things feel different.

Life is starting to pick up speed at the Weig house. We’re in the warm-up lap before the starting gun fires and everyone takes off sprinting. September’s coming and with it all our new commitments. Erron and I start a 10-week class at church. We’ve been out of play for a while, but now we are serious about finding community and know it’s going to take some doing on our part to make it happen. The kids start a new school that requires Shepherd to be there by 8:30 every morning. This in itself will require an act of God. And the biggie…. after months of deliberation, I finally pulled the trigger and am on the road to returning back to work part-time. I’m in the middle of my real estate class, in fact, writing this post is a conflict of interest; I should be studying. Somehow, I’ve got to pass this test, and then find a place to hang my hat. Even admitting this new plan on the blog is nerve-wracking…I worry people will think I’m nuts to even chase this dream down. Anyway, in September, Char resumes dance, Shep starts soccer, Erron wants me to join the PTO at the kids’ school…the list goes on. Let’s just say, I’m starting to sweat.

I am the first-born into a family of ‘Get it done’ people. Total grinders. My parents are warriors. No challenge is too big, they just put their head down and power through, rarely asking for help. It’s an admirable quality, if not a little intimidating. This week was hard on me, I had plans to get through this entire real estate book before my weekend class met again, then Shep ended up in the hospital and I just couldn’t make it happen. I was whipped, and I started to doubt my abilities, my decisions, and instead thought of all the ways this new job path could blow up in my face. ”Just how am I going to pull this all off?” was my dominant thought. This morning I woke up needing some encouragement. I’ve admitted before that I’m not great at reading the bible on a regular basis, but in the last year the words on the page have touched my heart in a way they never have before, and I needed some of that truth today. I opened to 1 Corinthians, and got stuck on the same verse I was hung up on the last time I cracked this book open. Only this time, it sunk in.

“Brothers, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards, not many of you were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things-and the things that are not-to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him. “ 1 Corinthians 26-31

I hadn’t been willing to admit my weakness, and didn’t think allowing myself to feel insecure was going to help me get to where I needed to be. After all, I got goals to reach, so I kept reminding myself that I was capable, and if I worked hard enough, I could make it all happen.

Paul continues his message with this:

“…When I came to you, brothers, I did not come with eloquence or superior wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God….I came to you in weakness and fear, and with much trembling.”

It was such a relief to read. Paul’s humble words reminded me it’s OK to be weak, and to feel unsure. In fact it’s a gift. It allows us to get out of our own way and let God do his thing. After all, it was God who designed me with a love of people and an obsession with homes, so I kind of owe Him the credit in the first place. If God chooses to use me in this line of work, I’m ready and willing, but my success will ultimately be His, not mine. It takes some of the pressure off knowing it’s not really all up to me. And killing it at work is not even the point. I’ll do my best, I’ll learn from my mistakes, and I’ll thank God for the opportunity to try something new. That’s about all I can do. After all, I’m only human…but the Man Upstairs can work with that.

Back in the Saddle

8 / 19 / 158 / 19 / 15

Sheppy has pneumonia. And we have landed ourselves back in the hospital. Erron was working, so I was flying solo with Shep and crazy Char when the decision was made to admit us. Sister did great…. until she didn’t, and became punch-drunk on lack of sleep and sugar. I was so thankful for my mom who drove up from Tulsa to collect her.

Admitting Shep was tough on the heart. The familiarity of it all was hard to swallow. Chest X-rays, respiratory therapy… all the same things we endured last summer. I felt the tears stinging my eyes while speaking with Shep’s nurse upon arrival, but quickly shut them down. They would have only made things worse for Shep who was already not pleased with the situation. I just kept repeating, “This is different.” over and over in my head. Then night came, and Erron went home. Shep’s O2 sats where dipping, (the same number on the monitor that we were obsessed with last summer) so they put him on light oxygen. Shep had finally crashed and completely panicked when they woke him to put the canola on. I decided to sleep in bed with him to make sure he didn’t rip it off out in his sleep. Around midnight, he wet the bed… I didn’t escape in time. I stripped off wet yoga pants, put back on the skinny jeans and decided I could cry if I wanted to.

In reality, once we hit the one-year mark, the really painful images and memories stopped haunting me for no reason, but certain situations naturally stir them up. I’ve talked to a few family members of drowning victims this summer and occasionally, I’ve wandered back into crazy town after up-close and personal reminders of what happened to Shep. Little-man was once running a fever at the same time another child, also named Shepherd, was fighting a loosing battle in the hospital. I just about came undone that night. Erron and I pulled Shep into bed with us and we both shed tears, for our Shepherd and theirs. Another time, I met a momma friend at the ER after her boy had fallen in the pool. She was still dressed in her swimsuit and cover up. Just seeing her brought tears to my eyes, knowing how panicked she’d been. I was wearing the same thing when we’d come in. I’d ripped the seams throwing on a cover-up with shaking hands right before EMSA arrived. It was a new cover up, I’d just bought it, but I threw it and the swimsuit in the trash of Shep’s hospital room, knowing I’d never want to see it again.

This time really is different, however…and for that I’m so grateful. I think about our experience much less frequently and can talk about it freely, without getting emotional. It has proven to be a blessing, as I’ve had to discuss it more that I thought I would this summer.

For now, Shep and I will spend the day watching the Disney channel and playing Legos. Doctor came by earlier, Shep seems to have turned a corner and it looks like we may bust out of here tomorrow….just in time for Meet the Teacher.

Dear Mom, (an open letter from a teacher)

8 / 14 / 158 / 14 / 15

Our school starts in September. I’m not counting down the days or anything. The littles are going to a new school and Meet the Teacher night is soon. I’m excited for them, we’ve heard such great things about this school. But I’m nervous. Char is generally happy wherever she is. Shepherd boy is harder, and I desperately want him to enjoy learning. This year, Shep will be going to school every day, half day, with 2 of those days extended to match Char’s 2 day schedule.

Summer has been kind of rough with little Shep-man. All kids go through phases, and in the spring, he was a dream. For a few months we just cruised, so I’m not shocked to be back in the trenches with him now. But this whiney, weepy, verbal warfare is draining. Some current favorite phrases on Shep’s rotation now include, “We’re not best friends anymore! You’re annoying!” and my personal favorite, the weepy, “You are always getting me in trouble! It’s like you don’t LOVE me anymore!” Parenting Shepherd is always easy, and so straightforward. Especially when he’s being passive aggressive.

Anyone who’s worked with Shepherd successfully knows you have to approach this kid from a side angle. I’ve seen people do it beautifully, teachers, therapists…but not everyone gets or appreciates his quirks…and if you don’t… Well, let’s just say you might not be as smitten with him as I am. The old elementary school teacher in me is panicking about sending him off to school. I remember how much work kids like Shep took, how much energy, how many different strategies I tried on tricky little boys like Shep in order to get them to do what they needed to do, just to get through a day of school work. God must of prepped me, because those boys who took the most work to teach usually ended up being my favorites. I have fond memories of a 2^nd grade kid who had a sense of humor way above his age level. He got in trouble in the first grade for ditching his spelling words for a more interesting word list. He was supposed to write something like “ant” but would write something crazy like “Antarctica” instead. He was clever too, same spelling pattern, just not on the list. I loved him right away. My very first year of teaching ever, I had a 4th grade boy who had no self control. Just, none. Getting that kid to raise his hand and not shout out an answer was like asking a race car to drive slow. I pulled out every trick I ever had on that kid. And he had such a good heart, I’d have him stand next to me while I called his mom from school and he’d have tears in his eyes. By the end of the year we’d figured each other out, and we both survived. I had grown to really enjoy him. At parent teacher conferences his mom cried, it had been a tough year, but once I began telling her the things I liked about her son her emotions got the best of her. She alluded to the fact that she wasn’t used to hearing many positive things about him in prior years.

I also have memories I’d like to do over as a teacher, kids I spent more time stressing about their test scores than I’d like to admit. When I switched teaching jobs and started teaching in a competitive Dallas school district I was stressed to the max about test scores. A boy was in my class who had battled cancer just a year or two earlier. It was a tricky situation; his mom wanted him to be pushed and successful, just like I did….but we weren’t sure what effects, if any, his treatments had left on his brain and his learning abilities. Motivating this little guy was sometimes a challenge. The expectation was excellence for pretty much all students, and I lost so much sleep wondering if that kid would even pass. (He did, by the way…by the skin of his teeth.) Failing was just not an option. But looking back on that year, I would teach him so differently. I would focus on so much more than that stupid test. And I would talk to his mom SO differently. I’d ask her different questions, ask what other goal’s she’d love to see her son reach, and I’d ask how she was doing. I was 26 and hadn’t had kids when I taught her child; I had no clue what she’d already been through with him.

Last year, when Shep went back to school after his pool accident, I was a wreck. His first few days back were rough…he just couldn’t deal. His old teacher, who’d only taught Shep a few months, suggested he come back down to her class. It was the best thing we could have done for Shep and for me. She understood Shep, she knew how to work around his emotions and still keep him in line, appreciating his ornery streak but able to push him. She was my saving grace, without her I would have probably thrown in the towel that year. I was so fried from what just happened, I couldn’t take on much more unnecessary stress. Anyway, when Shepherd returned to school last fall I could not get this former student’s mom out of my head. I finally wrote her a note and tried to track her address down, but I never could. In honor of all momma’s sending their littles off to school with anxious hearts I thought I’d go ahead and post an open letter version of it. Who knows, maybe it will find it’s way to her.

Dear Mom,
I’m sure it’s strange for you to receive a message from your son’s long ago 4th grade teacher, but you have been on my mind a lot in the last few months. You see, when I taught your son, I was not a mom yet, and I certainly had not faced the possibility of loosing my child. Sitting across from you in conferences talking about your son, and that TAKS test, I honestly had no concept of what you had already been through as his mother. But now I do.
I am writing to you to apologize if I came off as insensitive about your sweet boy. It’s been a long time, and you may not even remember…but I just know that first year at school I was feeling consumed with test score expectations and there is a chance I missed all your child (and you) were accomplishing in other areas of life after what you both had been through. I don’t teach anymore, but as a mom of two children now, I regret that I may have missed out on all the positives about your son. If I made you feel like he was not already a success, just because I cared too much about scores that in hindsight, didn’t matter nearly as much as I thought they did… well then I’m so sorry.
This whole letter may seem odd to you. But after we got home from our own life-threatening experience and I sent my Shepherd boy back to Pre School with lots of tears and anxiousness, you kept coming to mind. I hope your young man is healthy and doing SO well, I’m thinking he’s in 10th grade now? Crazy!

Best wishes to all of you,
Allie

Colorado

8 / 12 / 15

We spent last week in Colorado. It was perfect. We’ve been coming to the same place for 19 years with my family and it looks like it may be time to change up how we do Colorado in the future so this was a special last summer out to the house. I love that Shepherd and Charlotte are learning to love coming to a place I grew up visiting. I’ve decided where we stay isn’t as important as what we do while we’re here. I hope they grow to appreciate the mountains as much as I do. I want Aspen, Glenwood Springs, and Vail to become become some of their favorite family places.

Erron and I had a blast with the littles, every year they get older, trips get more fun because they can experience more things. We visited Glenwood Caverns Adventure Park and Shepherd was hysterical. Inside the cave, you’re not allowed to touch the inside walls or chew gum and Shep acted like a hall monitor. Before the tour even started he nearly busted me for keeping my gum in and the entire time we walked the cave he kept reminding us not to touch anything. Meanwhile, Char couldn’t keep her hands off anything which meant she had to be carried the entire time. Afterwards, Erron took Shep to ride the little coaster on the side of the mountain while I hung back with Char and ate popcorn. As soon as they got off the ride Erron bolted back to the line, buying me a ticket, saying, “Allie, it was SO fun. You gotta do it.” I got a date night, the husband got a round of disc golf in, Shep finally got to watch the real Star Wars with Nona, and Charlotte got to go down the water slide a million times. Everybody won.

This winter will most likely be our last trip out to the house before my family moves on and discovers new ways to visit Colorado. I can not wait to get Shep and maybe even Char back on the mountain. The only question is, will they ski like momma or board like daddy?

This was best we could do at a family picture.

Snakes from the back yard. Huge hit with the boys.

Swimming lessons and CPR: Why it’s worth it.

8 / 9 / 159 / 6 / 15

Shep comes off this slide and goes straight into his safe float, every time.

This summer I have been personally contacted as a point of reference for three different drowning or near drowning experiences. All of them bring me to my knees. I’m OK being the mom to call about drowning, I’m more than willing to offer up information from our personal experience to anyone who finds themselves in the same terrifying position. But man, I wish I wasn’t an expert.

So one thing I’d say to ALL moms and dads is this: It is worth your money to invest in CPR and survival swim lessons for your littles. It IS. I know it’s super expensive. Trust me. We were fortunate to have help paying for months of swim lessons for Shep and Char. And I still stressed and had moments of doubt every time the bill came. Until I saw it click with both my kids. If I had to do it all over again and pay all of it myself, I would. Char is barely 2.5 and that girl knows what to do in water.

AND WE PRACTICED. Moms and dads, if you can, practice those skills with your kids. When the money and my energy for driving to multiple swim lessons finally ran out, I found that practicing the skills they’d learned over and over in our neighborhood pool is what sealed the deal for both my kids.

The same goes for CPR. It runs about $30-$60 per person depending on what type of certification you get, and the class lasts around 2-4 hours. It’s not exactly my dream date night. But let me just say this: If my dad, a doctor, had not been at the house when we found Shepherd floating in the pool, CPR would have been up to me. And I hadn’t been trained since Shep was born. My first instinct was to rush Shep inside to my dad, because I believed he could do it well, and he did. Thank God. But I’m Shep and Char’s mom. I should know what to do, I should be able to try and save their life if it comes down to it. So get certified, and if you’re rusty, do it again. At the very least, look it up on youtube. One night of class is worth a million nights of tuck-ins.

Lord knows, there are no guarantees, and things happen…even with lessons. But every time I get a call or a message about someone else’s child I eventually have to seek out Shep, stopping to hug him and whisper “I love you” in his ear, because I thought I’d never be able to again. If I didn’t know drowning, I would not advocate swimming lessons and CPR, that’s a fact. I’d see the price tag and put it off another year. But I DO know drowning, and I sleep better at night knowing we’ve done what we can in this arena. Moms who don’t know what it’s worth, I hope you never find out, but trust me…..it’s worth it.