I knew his face before I knew his name...

I don't remember exactly when I met him but I know it couldn't have been too long after my family first moved to town in the late 1970's. 

I knew his face before I knew his name.

Growing up in the local school district 'family' with my dad as the principal at Jefferson and then as the junior high principal, so many of the #117 staff became like extended members of my family. 

Ed Baldwin was one of those people. 

I went through elementary, junior high, and then graduated high school here. 

My husband, Ed, and I went to school with Ed Baldwin's son, Eddie. Our four kids went to school with Ed's grandson, Eddie. 

My Ed and Eddie Baldwin played football together. 

The Senior Ed Baldwin would always be watching from the sidelines. 

Two of our sons played football with Ed's grandson, Eddie.

The Senior Ed Baldwin was still watching from the sidelines. 

I knew his face before I knew his name. 

As I grew up and eventually began to work and to coach within the district, I got to know Ed beyond just recognizing him in a crowd.  

He always treated me like one of his family. 

When I coached at Turner, we would often be in the building early mornings and late nights. Ed would come in the gym and talk to me while I set up the volleyball nets. Or, I'd go seek him out as he was sweeping the floors in some part of the building and we'd catch up. 

I'd begin to notice that he would seem to know our practice schedules because the lights (which would take a long time to 'warm up' in those days) would be on before I'd get to school. On the really cold winter mornings, he'd make sure the heat was on so the girls would be able to practice without seeing their breath with each exhale. 

We became friends. 

We talked about the years he had worked with my dad. 

From early on, I would hear my dad say that the heartbeat of any school came from the secretaries and from the custodians.

Ed Baldwin used to tell me he never forgot that. He said he had felt respected during those years and he was grateful to be appreciated. 

Ed taught me that everyone in a building has a purpose and is important in the overall equation. Schools truly are families and Ed was a prime example of going above and beyond for those he cared about. 

I learned so much about the history of Turner from Ed.

He'd tell me about the early years at the junior high and the incredible moments he'd witnessed throughout the years. Even though I had been a student at Turner, I saw the building through Ed's eyes with each story he told. 

He was a treasure.    

A quick decade passed by and I stopped coaching and Ed moved to another building.

I would see him from time to time and we would always be sure to stop and talk. 

Ed was one of those people who, even though you might not see him that often, once he took you under his wing...you were there to stay. 

One of the last times I remember seeing Ed was at a JHS football game where he was working the pass gate. 

My husband and I walked up and Ed was sitting in a lawn chair. He saw us coming over to him and he got up. We both smiled and gave each other the hug longtime friends give after extended time apart. 

It brought me right back to those coaching days at Turner. So many hours spent with this man and the warmth and kindness he showed me then came flooding through my memories. 

Reading about Ed's passing on Facebook, I felt my heart skip a beat as I read the news on someone's post. 

How could this man, who was larger than life for me and countless others, really be gone? 

My thoughts immediately went to my former classmate, Eddie, and then to his son, Eddie. A long line of Edward Baldwin's. Thoughts also went to my friend, Mindy, for her tremendous loss.

Life has a way of moving on and, sadly, we lose people we love. 

I pray for comfort and for peace for son Eddie and grandson Eddie in the days ahead. For all of those who knew and loved Ed. 

To the man whose face I knew before I knew his name...Ed Baldwin...you became a man whose image is permanently etched in my memory. 

And, in my heart. 

I will never forget you, my friend.

It is what it is.

p

Their successes are my successes...

I'm one of those mom's who feels being a mother to my children is the single most important job I have ever had.

Professionally, I'm just coming into my own as an educator and feeling like I have a separate identity besides 'mom.' I absolutely love what I do. But, an income-driven job, which fills my bank account, is much less rewarding than the one which fills my heart.

Being a mom has always been what motivates me.

Being a mom has always been what fulfills me.

I remember back to when I had given birth to our first son, Braxton. My Grandma Belobrajdic was still alive and she looked at me while I was holding him. She said, "You're going to be such a good mother." I've repeated this story many, many times over the years. As she said that, I felt a calm come over me and I never once doubted my abilities to be a mom from that moment on.

While I am realistic enough to know there are many times I've failed my kids because I could have made different choices or ones which would have better fit a certain situation, I also know each decision I made or will make is done with their best interests in mind.

Everything is based on love for those four.

As our kids have grown into adults, I marvel at their successes. They've each achieved more than I ever had dreamed.

I feel their successes are my successes.

What I'm most proud of is how they treat the people in their lives.  I don't necessarily mean only the people they love, but everyone they run across.

The hardest part of being a parent is knowing your kids see and hear all you do.

You are the first example in their lives. It can be daunting and overwhelming to always be the one your children model themselves after.

My own mom was the best example of this I can remember. While she had distinct opinions of how people should act or react in any given situation, she treated people with kindness and respect. "Kill them with kindness," she would say. She was one of the kindest people I've ever known.

I haven't tried to fool myself that I am anywhere as compassionate or caring as my mom was, but I do feel I try extremely hard to follow her example.

She would be so happy to see her grandchildren have inherited her genuinely kind heart.

I feel their successes are my successes.

Today, our son Blaize is starting a new job in Chicago. It's a big step for him. While this is a professional success and I'm thrilled for the opportunities it will allow him, I am even prouder of the large community of friends and colleagues he has amassed since moving to the windy city a few years ago. His energy, empathy, and enthusiasm toward others gives him a solid base for a successful life.

He's succeeding because of who he is.

He's succeeding because of how he treats people. 

These are the days I cherish.

All we want, as mom's, is to give the world the best of us...in the form of our kids.

Our next generation.

May my kids continue to be better than I am.

May they continue to treat others with more kindness than I have.

Isn't that success?

It is what it is.

p

Back to 1...

A clean slate.

365 days suddenly reset all the way back to 1.

It's a do-over, of sorts.

A chance to take a moment to think about what you'd like to do.

Some people call them resolutions.  I don't make resolutions. Mainly, it's because I know I can't keep them.  They are made in the pressure of the moment and often are too lofty and unattainable to make any real sense.

The older I get, I’m starting to realize that the new year is more like a hope for less heartaches and more blessings then the 365 days just passed.

Everyone suffers heartaches.

Some of us more than others. And, unfortunately, a single string of 365 days can often bring more than one’s fair share.

I have no idea why this happens. I struggle, as others do, when searching for the meaning behind multiple heartaches.

Back to 1.

In 2018, we lost Ed's mom.  It was 16 years earlier when we lost mine.

Visiting Ebenezer Cemetery now, we walk from one mom's grave to the other, thankful that they are buried so close.  I think they would have liked that.

For us, well, we're the 'parents' now and we don't like it.  They're supposed to still be here.  Both of our mom's were taken too soon. 

Ed is an only child and he is lost without his mom.  Seeing his grief brings mine back to the surface.

I tend to push the loss aside and try not to think of the intensity.  Of how mad it makes me.  Of how sad it makes me.  Of how devastatingly lonely it makes me.  It never leaves me. Grief...sitting just beneath the surface...bubbling up at unexpected times.

Ed is going through what I did.  Trying to figure out how you go day-to-day without your parent.  I know what's ahead for him.  It won't be easy.  I know this because I am still struggling all these years later.

Back to 1.

The new year is another attempt.

Can you successfully make it through?  What does that mean to you? For you?

I look at my friends who have suffered similarly devastating losses over the years.  It could be argued theirs are even harder as they've lost a child or a spouse.  Those are losses I've not had.  My heart aches for them...for the loss I can't even imagine.

I think of my kids.  They've suffered the same losses as we have, and, yet they are impacted in other ways.  No grandparents left.  Ed's mom was the last grandparent they'd had and she was the only one in their lives since my mom's death.  Grandchildren are supposed to be surrounded by their grandparents.  Grow up with them.  Know the actual person and not just the stories we tell.

Back to 1.

This year it's down to just the kids and us.  It happened earlier than it should have...yet here we are. 

We’ll be okay. We have each other. 

Somehow the heartaches turn into those blessings I hope for each year.  I only need to look to find them.  It may only be a glimmer.  But there are blessings in the most unexpected places.

When your heart is broken, you draw those you love even closer to you.  You begin to pay attention to the little things.  You try to laugh a bit more than you had before.  You cherish the togetherness of friends and family.  Ed tells me not to sweat the small stuff.  I'm trying.  I really am.

Blessings will come.

They always do.

While I would prefer to have never had the heartaches, I understand we must suffer loss as a part of life.  It's the natural progression.

No, I didn't make any resolutions this year.

Instead, I will simply take one day at a time.

A year's journey awaits.

Heartaches.

Blessings.

2019 will be what it's supposed to be. Arm in arm with those I love. 

It is what it is.

p

"Tell me how you think it's going," she said.

I've now taught for the first quarter in a multiple disabilities classroom.  Actually, I'm nearing the end of the second quarter soon.

I've taken (and passed with an A!) the first course needed to secure my LBS1 (Learning Behavior Specialist) endorsement.

I've met, and fallen in love with, 6 students with special needs. 

I've met, and am gaining immense respect for, the 1:1 paraprofessionals and nurses who work directly with our students.

There's no two ways to say it, this special education world is one you need to work in to understand. While I'm not saying it's some big secret that only a few can uncover, I am saying it's indescribable unless you walk this walk each and every day.

Recently, I had my first formal teaching observation. Part of the process is my submission of a 'reflection' on this part of the school year. 

My boss told me to simply write about what's happened so far. 

"Tell me how you think it's going," she said.

So, I decided the best way to do this is to write how I've felt in these past months.  How being a special ed teacher has made me look at not only my students, but my own classroom staff. How I view my students parents has begun to evolve. How the blessing of a little school, where I have my classroom, has been the unexpected sunlight brightening the entire picture.

My students. 
Little mysteries waiting to be solved. My students are "my little onions" because they have so many layers begging to be peeled. Unless you have a true passion for this work, you can easily be lost in the minute-to-minute movements and minutiae. These kids are teaching me to step back, take a breathe, and keep the bigger picture in view. It's not day-to-day in our classroom. We go by moments. I'm learning to celebrate our small victories because they are victories and we all need to be excited about the positive successes. My students may be classified with special needs but they are just kids.  They have a right to learn.  I'm doing my best to make sure they have every opportunity they deserve to be successful. 

My classroom staff.
Before I was a teacher, I was a classroom aide and a 1:1 aide in special ed.  This unique perspective benefits the way I look at the adults matched with our students. It's a tough job.  It's a tough job.  It's a tough job.  I wrote that sentence three times because it deserves that much space on the page.  For little pay, we ask these individuals to do the work of many people all by themselves.  We ask them to do some things many would refuse to do. I try to add humor (sometimes laced with sarcasm) to our day's together.  And, laughter!  We laugh.  A lot.  That saying 'if you don't laugh, you'll cry' fits us to a 't.'  This many female personalities in one small classroom can be challenging and I'm still learning to navigate my way.  I try to let them know how very much I appreciate all they do and I also try to be their cheerleader and supporter.  I couldn't make the progress I am with these students without the classroom staff.  We call ourselves the 'hot-mess express.'  I wouldn't have it any other way. We love this mess. 

My student's parents.
Before you judge a man, walk a mile in his shoes.  How true.  I was blessed with four healthy children.  While being a parent is the hardest (and most rewarding) job I've ever had, I never have had to live the additional facet of parenting a child with special needs.  These months in this classroom have shown me I need to be more patient and less judgmental.  Yes, I have expectations for my students while they're in my classroom but they leave me at the end of a school day. Parents never get a 'day off' and they are parents for life.  It's easy for me to push my expectations onto the parents.  It's easy to be judgmental.  The harder thing to do would be to NOT JUDGE what we don't first-hand experience on a daily-basis.  I'm a work in progress in this regard.  I will get there. 

My little school classroom.
Griggsville-Perry Elementary school.  I'd never been inside this school before I came with the previous teacher and my boss this summer to see the room which become my new weekday home.  What a gem of a school!  The staff is i.n.c.r.e.d.i.b.l.e.  I remember asking my boss how this school responded to kids with special needs and she said this is where she comes to 'get happy!'  The staff knows our students names and greets them in the halls.  The administration comes in and out of the classroom and we're always happy to see them.  I sometimes sit at my desk before or after school and hear the teachers in my hallway speaking to each other.  There's 'Hello, friend!' welcomes from many and laughter echoing down the corridor.  I smile each time I hear this!  I feel safe here.  I feel accepted.  I feel supported. How lucky am I that this is where I was placed in my first special ed position?  I'll forever be indebted to the GP staff for making me feel like I belong here.  Proud to be a GP Tornado!

"Tell me how you think it's going," she said.

I know only one thing for certain.

I'm where I'm supposed to be at this time of my life.

All the rest continues to fall into place.

It is what it is.

p

It's Never Too Late to Live Your Best Life...

It's been 7 weeks.

7 weeks since I accepted a new teaching position in Special Education with a local district.

How could I have known my outlook on this phase of my life would so drastically change?

This weekend, I did a few things I’ve been wanting to do for awhile but had, for some reason, found excuses to put them off.

It's never too late to live your best life.

I'm not sure why, when you become busier than you've been for awhile, that other things seem to actually 'slow down' and you can see them clearer than you have before.

This is what has come into clear focus for me these last weeks...

Carving out time with my husband has moved to the top of my 'to do' list. He works so hard for our family and I've given him the space to do what he needs to do. Now, I make sure to let him know when I'll be home so we can eat dinner together. I've also started asking him on date nights, even if it's just a meal out during the week, so we can catch up...only the two of us. I've never forgotten why I fell in love with him all those years ago but our relationship deserves extra attention and time. I see that clearly now.

It's never too late to live your best life...

Being a teacher, as well as an advocate for my students, lights a fire in me that I thought had been long ago extinguished. While these past weeks have been some of the most challenging for me professionally, they have shown me that I am where I need to be. The long hours, the college class I am taking, the vast amount of special ed information I need to digest, and everything else that goes along with being an educator these days has solidified it's all going to be worth it in the end if I can give my students what they deserve. I see that clearly now.

It's never too late to live your best life...

Now, back to this weekend.

Our kids have gotten tattoos in the past and all four have one which is the same.  It came from the Belobrajdic side of the family. My Grandma, Daisy, would say 'Laku noć' to us when my brother and I were little. Loosely translated it means, 'Good Night' or 'Sweet Dreams.' My Grandma always said it meant both so our families take on this phrase may not be exactly what it means but I don't care. When I say it or when I hear it I see my Grandma's face. My Mom started saying this to us because of Grandma. Two of my favorite women make this phrase special. That's what's important.  Bentley has it on her wrist--she asked me to write the phrase.  She's had hers since her first year in college.  All three of our boys have a capital letter L, which is in my Mom's actual handwriting, incorporated in their tattoos of this phrase.  An added tribute is the letter L is in purple to honor Mom's battle with pancreatic cancer. The boys came up with that detail on their own. She would have loved it.

I knew I eventually wanted to get this in Bentley's handwriting so we could each have a piece of each other on our wrists. Besides my Grandma Daisy and my Mom...Beni is the 3rd most important female in my life.  It's important to me that she knows this. I see that clearly now. 

I got the tattoo.

It's never too late to live your best life.

Yep. I guess you can have an epiphany in 7 weeks time.  Life is so short.  I've been shown this multiple times over the years of my life but, for some reason, I have felt the need to get moving. NOW.

DO WHAT YOU WANT TO DO.

WHY WAIT?

Besides the ‘laku noć’ tattoo, I got a second tattoo yesterday. On my left foot. One specifically for my daughter. 

Now, I have three more to get.

My sons will each be featured in a tattoo before I'm done.

It's never too late to live your best life.

What's important to you? What have you put off, repeatedly, for another day?  What ignites a fire deep in your soul?

I love this life. 

I'm starting to live it.

It is what it is.

p

Turn the Page...

I'm 52 years old.

Some would call this 'middle age' although I doubt I'll live to be over 100...so I'd say I'm past the 'middle' part.  

Is it too late to start something new in my life? 

Is it too late to take my finger and turn the page?

I think it's the perfect time to begin a new chapter. 

It's interesting to reach a time when I've raised our four children and I see them beginning to make their own way in the world.  My time as a mom has evolved into more of an observer rather than an active participant.  They don't need me as much as they did when they were little.  As my husband says, 'We've done our job with the kids.'

Besides being a mom, being a wife has been the other most important part of me.  In the fall of this year, Ed and I will celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary.  I've loved him since junior high school.  We've been blessed with a lasting and a loving relationship.  We found our life partner on the first try.  Not many can say they met their kindred spirit at age 12. 

We all make sacrifices in our lives.

For our spouse.

For our kids.

For our family.

The path our life takes revolves around decisions made with so many others in mind. 

Turn the page.

I went back to college when I was in my 30's to complete a degree in Elementary Ed. I wanted to teach.  

To have my own classroom.  

For over a decade, I was in and out of several classes within the local school district.  I was a one-on-one aide.  I was a special education aide.  Then, once I finished my degree, I subbed in elementary schools, at the junior high, and at the high school.  

I loved it.

Our kids were still growing up and my job coincided well with what they were doing. 

But, I still hadn't had my own classroom.

Most recently, I worked for our family at a local daycare as the PreK teacher.  While it wasn't in a school district, I loved having a classroom of my own!

It was a wonderful time.  

I took a leave of absence to care for my mother-in-law and needed the past several months to get back in-sync after her death.  I left the daycare behind as I sorted things out.  

Recently, I was sitting at the kitchen table with my son, Brody.  He told me he thought I needed to teach again.  He made a comment about me being born to work with kids.  He said he thought I needed to get back into the classroom.  While his words warmed me, I truly thought the time for that had passed.  

I didn't think teaching in a school district was in the cards for me.

Turn the page.

It's happened rather quickly.

Within the last two weeks, I was offered a teaching position.

I accepted.

It's with a school district I've never worked for before and it's a position I've never taught before.  

It's going to be a challenge.

It's exactly what I need at this time in my life.  

The position allows for me to go back to college for an additional endorsement.  Besides being a teacher, I've always enjoyed being a student, too.  Now, I get to do both.  

And...I'll have my own classroom.  

FINALLY.

Being 52 is not bad at all.  It's allowing me something different and something new.  

Everything has prepared me for this new chapter.

I'll be working for Four Rivers Special Education District as a Multiple Disabilities teacher.

I'll be going back to college to get my LBS-1 endorsement.  

It was 18 years ago when I first stepped into a special ed classroom to work for Kim Nelson's TMH room as an aide.  Now, she's going to be my 'boss' again as I walk into my own special ed class.  

Who could have known my journey would take me here?

Turn the page. 

My story isn't over.

This chapter is only beginning.

It is what it is.

p

Bursting with PRIDE...

I'll admit it.

I didn't know what to expect.

But, I'll also admit I was truly excited to go visit our son, Blaize, in Chicago for our very first PRIDE Parade.

We've been planning this for awhile. While we were at the Comstock's Backyard Bash in May, I asked the same person who made their t-shirts to make some for us, too.

Our kids worked together to 'design' what theirs would say.

I follow an Instagram account called "LGBT History.'  I saw a picture from the 1980's of a mom with her son.  Her shirt said, "My son is BI.  I don't ask why."  Her son's shirt said, "My mom is straight and she doesn't hate.'

As soon as I saw it, I took a screenshot and sent the picture to Blaize.  I told him I wanted those shirts!

Several months later, Ed and I each had one black t-shirt and one gray t-shirt packed in our suitcase.  Our own version of the t-shirts I'd seen was screen printed on the front and back.

Blaize, Brody, and Bentley had their own tanks with a clever saying which paid homage to the popular NSYNC song, "Bye, Bye, Bye.'

Bursting with PRIDE.

It's not unusual to be apprehensive when you go into a new situation or atmosphere.

Chicago has a defined LGBTQ community called Boystown.

I've been there a few times now but, as a heterosexual person, I'm one of the minority.  I've witnessed how many minorities are treated in other walks of life.

I'm here to say that any concerns I had were all in my head.  From my very first visit, I felt immediate acceptance.

In fact, being the mom of a LGBTQ son, I have--what I would call--an elevated status in Boystown. Mom's are LOVED!  Dad's, too.  But, Mom's seem to be even more revered.  I feel like a rock star when I'm there.

Who doesn't like feeling special?

But, the best part of going to Boystown with Blaize is seeing how happy he is. We meet his friends--he proudly introduces us--and I sit and listen as he tells them how lucky he feels that he has his family supporting him.

Those words melt my heart.

Every.

Single.

Time.

Bursting with PRIDE.

I'm still trying to figure out the proper and politically correct things to say. I have a habit of speaking before I think.

Blaize had to correct me a few times before I made a faux paux with something I said.  I actually did say two things that had my son looking at me with a negative shake of his head and an eye roll.  Luckily, I didn't say it where anyone besides my family heard. Blaize asked if I'd run anything questionable by him before I said it. See, I am never too old to learn!

I doubt I would have ever been in Boystown without Blaize taking us there.

I doubt I would have ever made a special trip to Chicago for the PRIDE parade without Blaize wanting us to come.

I definitely wouldn't have had t-shirts made.

It's about Blaize.

We'd do anything for him.  Just like we would for our other three children.

Sometimes, that can take us in a new and an unexpected direction.

I'm certainly not a perfect person.  I try to live a life of acceptance and only share my opinions with those who ask me.  I've screwed up.  I've probably said things I shouldn't have said without thinking how offensive it might be to someone else.

When one of your children suddenly tells you they're part of a minority group--one which is often questioned and ridiculed--your world changes in that instance.  I've become hyper-sensitive to the hate and insensitivity in our world.

I'm learning how to become an educated mom of a LGBTQ son. I don't address every slur I hear.  If someone truly wants to become more aware, I'm thrilled to discuss anything with them.  As for the others who simply want to judge or 'save' me or my son...well, I've chosen to let them live their life as they have a right to do...and I walk away.   

The PRIDE parade brought tears to my eyes.

I stood among thousands of people. We were all there for different reasons.

Personally, my reason wasn't political or to make some statement.

My reason was my son.

Bursting with PRIDE.

I did something uncomfortable for me. And, once immersed in that huge crowd, I felt more a part of the group than I could have imagined.

Acceptance.  Total acceptance.

I am a 52 year old heterosexual female. Instead of sticking out in the crowd...I blended in.

I can't thank Blaize enough for giving me this experience. I understand now when he tells us how life-changing his first PRIDE parade was for him.  I felt the same attending mine.

As a person who thought she was open-minded and full of acceptance, I've realized I have a long way to go.

There's always more to learn and a plethora of ways to encourage acceptance.

I love you, Blaizer.

You've expanded my world in ways I never imagined.

It is what it is.

p