To Greek or not to Greek...

Ed and I are heading to Champaign today to take some things the kids forgot to take back after Christmas break.  All four of our kids have gone to the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.  Braxton graduated this past May, with a degree in history, and is currently teaching 4th grade in St. Louis through the Teach for America program.  So, he is no longer in Champaign.  Blaize graduated in December, with a degree in broadcast journalism, but headed back to campus to begin work on his master's degree so he is still at U of I for another year.  Brody is in his last semester of his junior year (another history major) and Bentley is finishing her sophomore year (and is about to apply to the college of education to declare as an elementary education major). 

It has been incredible that all four ended up at the same college.  They had an entire year where all four where there at the same time.  Not many siblings get to say that.  They went there as close siblings.  But what transpired once they were fellow students, as well, was nothing Ed and I expected.  Though we had always hoped our children would be each others friends, we didn't realize they would be each others best friends.  No matter where the future takes these four, we now know they will always be in each others lives and I don't think a parent can ask for more than that.

Time in Champaign has brought many new opportunities to our kids.  Not only is the college an outstanding educational institution but the additional options for students are incredible.  When Braxton first transferred there, I remember being surprised when he mentioned he was thinking of joining a fraternity. I don't think I asked many questions about it.  Before long, he was initiated and was an Alpha Sigma Phi.  It wasn't until Blaize transferred the next year and Brody was accepted as an incoming freshman, that I started to ask more about it.  After those two chose to pledge Alpha Sig, too, it became clear to us that we would be spending a lot of time in that house over the years.  Having all three sons in the same fraternity is awesome.  Braxton was voted President during the time they all were there and they got to spend so much time together while he gained important leadership experience.  They are brothers by blood and by choice through the U of I Greek system. 

When Bentley came to U of I as a freshman, she wasn't sure she would chose the Greek route.  Her brothers welcomed her into the Alpha Sig house and she gained many more 'brothers'.  We kid her that if she wasn't a girl, she would have pledged Alpha Sig!  She decided she wanted to go through Rush and see what it was all about.  It's a long process and she knew she wanted to be a part of Chi Omega.  Thankfully, they wanted her, as well.  We're so glad she found these 'sisters.'  As the only daughter in our house, she had never lived with girls before.  I'm sure that was an adjustment.  After her freshman year in the dorm, she moved into the house this past fall.  When we moved her in it was so different than when we moved the boys in their house.  Boys are boys and they need very little to be happy.  We moved some things they had from their rooms at home into their frat house.  Done.  Not so with Bentley.  Things had to match.  Crafts had to be made.  Pictures had to be developed so she could hang them everywhere.  Things had to be bought!  It was quite the production.  But we got them all settled and Greek life was well underway.

We look forward to two big events.  Dad's Weekend is in the fall and Mom's Weekend is in the Spring.  It's a great time!  We have met so many of our boys 'brothers' and couldn't be more impressed.  The house is full of our future leaders.  They come from all walks of life who, somehow, blend into a unified group.  I feel as if we have another family in those boys.  We have gotten to know some of their families, too.  We would have never gotten this experience if the boys hadn't decided to become Greek.  Yes, Ed and I have spent the night in the frat house.  When Brax was President, he had his own room with a private bathroom.  He would let us stay there and he would sleep elsewhere.  Other times, the boys would find a space for us.  I am happy to say I stayed in a frat and I survived!  I also stayed at the Chi O house with Beni a few months ago during Dad's Weekend.  Her roommate, Abby, stayed with her parents at a hotel so I stayed in their room.  So different than the boys' house but what was the same was the feeling of 'family'.  Girls are everywhere and come in and out of each others rooms.  It's like a giant slumber party.  I have felt more than a little bit envious of all my kids for this chance to belong with total strangers who became such important parts of their lives.

When I mention that our kids all attend U of I, most people are excited that the kids have gotten to be together.  When I mention that they are all a part of the Greek system, I get a few stereotypical responses about crazy partying at the frat and some typical snobbish sorority girl comments.  It's truly offensive because I know these young adults.  They are not a stereotype.  They are so much more. 

Of course, any comments like those come from people not associated with fraternities or sororities.  Neither Ed nor I were Greek in college.  But I can't say enough positive things about what we've seen through our children's eyes in Champaign.  Besides the philanthropic endeavors these kids undertake, they all have incredible grades and life goals.  They also have a responsibility to each other and their house.  These are life lessons that are priceless.  They chose to add this aspect to their college days.  And choices come with commitments.  Being able to successfully juggle it all amazes me. 

Bentley recently became President of Chi Omega and follows in Braxton's footsteps of leadership.  She's in the midst of initiation right now and this weekend, the house welcomes the 18's.  It's an exciting time and I know she will remember this long after she leaves Champaign.  Leadership within the Greek system opens up the door to possibilities.  Braxton was recruited by Teach for America partly because he was a proven leader on the huge campus of a Big 10 school.  How could a parent not wish these opportunities for their children?  It couldn't have happened without this membership in the largest Greek system in the nation.

It's way more than parties and wild behavior.  Oh, there could be those, too.  But the Greek system is a family.  It's a network of current members and alumni all working toward bettering themselves and their letters.  The connection never ends and is mind-blowingly far reaching. 

Graduations have started for our family.  Two down with Brody and Bentley to go.  As they walk away with their degrees, they will take each one of their 'brothers' and 'sisters' with them. 

So when people ask about our U of I experience, I will always include the Greek system as an integral part of what our four children have received and accomplished.  They are better people for making the choice to go Greek. 

It is what it is.

p

Before and after...

There has been a clear line drawn during my life.  I describe the sides of that line as 'before' and 'after'.  We all have those defining moments.  When it happens we can almost feel the life being sucked out of us.  We know, without any possible doubt, that our life will never be the same.  There is not one single thing that we can do about it or that we can do to change it.  It comes in an instant but the pain it brings remains for the rest of our lives.

My 'before' and 'after' came with the diagnosis of my mom, at age 61, with stage 4B pancreatic cancer that had metastasized to her liver.  We were sitting in her hospital room in Springfield waiting to see the doctor.  Upon initial examination in Jacksonville, for what we thought was a gall bladder attack, the doctors said they wanted her to go to Memorial for a 'second opinion'.  Even as we were checking her in and the nurse led us under a sign that read ONCOLOGY, I prayed that this didn't mean anything.  I was just fooling myself.  Within the hour, we were told it was cancer.  Within two hours, my mom was given 3-4 months to live. 

My 'before' had just ended.  That line was being drawn across my world.  My 'after' had begun.

As I write this, I can see the hospital bed in my mind.  Mom was sitting in the middle of it.  She looked at my dad and I and didn't say a word at first.  Her eyes welled up with tears.  The doctor had made his way to the door to give us time alone.  Once the door shut, mom looked at me.  The first thing she said was, "I won't get to see Bentley get married".  Of all the things she could have said, she had fast-forwarded to a day that wouldn't come for 20-plus years as Beni was only about 4 at that time.  Now, if you knew my mom, you knew she loved her family.  She was a devoted wife of nearly 40 years to my dad as well as a wonderful mother to my brother and me.  But when it came to her four grandchildren, she was fiercely devoted.  She loved the boys more than I can even express.  All three of them were such a source of pride for her.  When it came to Beni, she was the only granddaughter and they shared the special bond that grandma's and granddaughter's do.  She obviously had thought she would have many happy years watching all four of our kids grow.  Bentley's wedding was something I didn't even know she had dreamed about.  I could feel the hurt in her words.  Talking about not being here for her granddaughter's wedding was a way for her to verbalize the pain she felt about her mortality.  I have no idea how I would have reacted if I had just been given a time-frame for the end of my life.

As the months wore on and we got into the routine of treatments and life with cancer, it seemed like the color had gone out of my world.  Each day brought us closer to 'the end' and dread was everywhere.  There were definitely good days and bad days.  Things were so black and white.  But, my mom was a fighter.  The 3-4 month death sentence stretched into 17 months.  That's almost unheard of for a pancreatic cancer patient.  She spent as much time as she could with our kids.  She and I were able to talk about life and love.  Being able to tell her how mad I was and how cheated I felt, because I was losing her, was cathartic for us both.  I took a leave from my job at the junior high for several weeks so I could move back into mom and dad's house to help with her hospice care.  I feel blessed I was able to do that.  Our kids were all in elementary school at the time and we received special permission for them to ride the bus to my parent's house each afternoon.  They would spend some time with mom until Ed got home from work.  Then he would come spend some time with all of us and then take the kids home for the night.  We did this day in and day out until the end of her life.  She got to talk to each of the kids a final time.  I don't know how much of those conversations they remember.  But I know, that at the time, they all wanted to go into her bedroom by themselves and talk to their Monger Lin (Monger is a name Braxton gave mom when he started to talk.  He had several ear infections and couldn't hear clearly.  "Grandma" to him sounded like "Monger").  She treated them as people not just children and she understood what she meant to them.  She understood they needed some final, private moments with her.  I love her so much for making sure that happened. 

Mom passed away May 25, 2002 at the age of 63.  It was a day before our son, Blaize would turn 10.  Blaizer said Monger didn't want to die on his birthday so that's why she died on the 25th.  All the kids made drawings and wrote letters to mom.  She was cremated and we were able to place the kid's artwork and writings into a vault with the urn of ashes.  Mom also requested a recent school picture of each of the kids be buried with her.  Of course, we complied. 

With her death, everything changed.  We all struggled and tried to find our new places in a world without her.  Within a year, my family lost contact with my dad.  I don't share that with people.  I don't feel it's their business.  I don't want to hear people's opinion.  If someone asks about him, I say I hear he's fine and move on.  It has been nearly 11 years since we have seen him or spoken to him.  Our kids have grown up without both grandparents on my side of the family.  It was never what I had imagined for them since their early childhood had been filled with Papa Paul and Monger Lin's love.  But, life happens.  We all make choices and sometimes that means leaving people behind for one reason or another.  On the positive side, mom's death has brought the six of us so much closer.  I know my mom would be saddened to know what happened with my dad but she would also be so proud of how her four grandchildren have grown up.  She would love the young adults they have become.  Her early influence in their lives has definitely helped shape them.

It seems like yesterday that I held her hand for the last time.  But it's been over 12 years.  I miss her everyday and yet when I look at our kids, I see her in all of them.  My 'after' is sometimes lonely and almost always filled with missing mom.  I didn't want to be the matriarch of the family because that was her place.  I've tried to live by her example.  I love my husband and I love my children.  I try to make sure they know how much they mean to me.  I think I'm doing alright.  I mess up a lot but I try to fix it the next time. 

I would do anything to have my life like it was 'before' but I know that can't be.  The days move on and my 'after' continues.  I struggle to do my best.  I see mom on that hospital bed with her life flashing before her eyes...seeing the future she wouldn't be a part of and I promise myself I will embrace each day and thank God for every moment I am blessed with.  None of us knows how much time we have or when our life may change in an instant.  All we have is today.  All we have are those we love...those who are with us through this journey.  Live in the moment, I tell myself.  Blur the line between 'before' and 'after' and try living in the 'now'.  I'm working on it. 

It is what it is.

p

My daughter, my best friend...

I never knew she would be a part of my life.  When I started having children, I had three sons in a row.  I absolutely love my boys.  I felt I was made for being the mom to them.  Boys were easy to love and easy to raise.  And then our world was shaken and she arrived.  What were we going to do with a girl?  Girls can be challenging and moody.  Girls can be difficult to raise.  Would she fit in?  Would I be as close to her as I was to my grandma and my mom?  I have no trouble admitting I was more than apprehensive when I found out I was pregnant with a daughter.

Without a doubt, Bentley Lynne was meant to be born into our family.  She was the piece of the puzzle that we hadn't realized was missing.  As soon as we brought her home from the hospital, her three older brothers were mesmerized with her.  She was like a tiny doll.  The boys would gather around her and sing "You are my sunshine".  It was precious.  They have all four been bonded since those early days.  She became 'one of the boys' and always fit in with whatever they were doing.  She was as comfortable around guys as she was girls.  That's still true today and I know it's because she grew up in a house dominated by men. 

While Beni has a different relationship with each of our sons, they are all equally as close.  She has three older protectors and I know they would do anything for her.  And she would for them.  As far as Ed, he has been wrapped around her finger since before she was even born.  She thinks the world of her dad and compares every potential boyfriend to him.  It's true that girls look for guys who remind them of their dad.  No one seems good enough because Bentley has Ed so high up on that legendary pedestal.  The guy who finally wins her heart will need to win the approval of her brothers and her dad, too, or it will never work.  That's how much their opinions matter to her. 

My worries and concerns about having a daughter disappeared immediately.  I was blessed with one of the sweetest and kindest souls I have ever met.  Bentley has so many of her dad's traits.  She loves deeply and completely.  She sees the best in everyone.  She treats all those she meets with respect.  She's truly a nice person. 

My Grandma Belobrajdic and my mom were the two most important females in my life.  I prayed my daughter would become the third.  My grandma died before Beni was born.  When we were at the sonographer's office waiting for our sonogram and found out it was a girl, I remember Ed saying to me that my grandma had sent her to me.  That she knew I needed a daughter.  I believe that.  Wholeheartedly.  Little did I know that my mom would die just five years later.  I had lost two women who were incredible role models for me.  But, I had my Beni and I had no idea back then how fortunate I was. 

We share so many of the same interests that it makes being together easy.  The glaring difference between us is shopping.  Beni loves it!  I do not.  When my mom was still alive she would take Bentley shopping and buy her purses, shoes, jewelry and clothes.  Beni was a miniature of my mom.  They were soul mates in this respect.  Today, I try to go shopping with her because it makes her happy but Beni knows I could care less.  She loves me anyway.  It's more about the time together than the actual shopping.  I would go anywhere with her just to be with her.

Because she's the baby and the only girl, the boys would say she's spoiled.  She probably is.  She was the final child to do everything so it seemed to hit me harder when she went to kindergarten, when she graduated high school...when she left for college.  I cried, uncontrollably, when we took each of our kids to college.  I hated it.  It meant one less child at home.  The family dynamic had changed.  When we took Beni, it was awful.  Not only was my final child going away but I realized how much I would miss my daughter as my friend. 

Yes, Beni and I text and talk on the phone everyday.  While I text my boys, too, we don't talk about all the personal things that Beni and I do.  Boys are more straightforward and don't text 'just to text' like women do. If I asked the boys about their feelings, and to go into detail, they would think I had gone crazy!  But Beni and I can talk about everything and about nothing.  We just like to share our days with each other.  I talk to her more than I talk to Ed during the day.  He is a guy, after all. 

Losing my daughter to college was painful.  While I couldn't be happier with the school/major she chose, I will always wish she still lived at home full-time.  I have come to realize that even though the distance is there, geographically, the closeness remains.  We don't have to live in the same house to still share the same things we always did.  She's still my 'Beni Boop", my "Ben Ben", my 'Peanut Butter", my "Beni Hanna", and any other strange nickname I gave her growing up. 

I have been blessed.  Our family has been blessed.  Although we tease her, unmercifully, sometimes...we don't know what we would do without her.  While we would like to think she will always be the 'spoiled baby girl', she has become an intelligent and capable woman.  We still see her as that tiny doll we brought home from the hospital.  The boys won't ever forget singing "You are my sunshine" to her, either.  We are forever grateful she was born into our family.

My wish came true.  I have three woman who I have loved with all my heart and who have loved me.  I know my Grandma Belobrajdic and my mom are loving that the special closeness between women in the family continues.

When I was blessed with Bentley Lynne, I was also blessed with my best friend.  I'm not sure every mom would say that about their daughter, but I do.  My wish for Beni is that someday she might be able to say the same.  I love you, Beni Boop.

It is what it is.

Mom

What's in a name...

When Ed and I found out we were going to become parents, I remember it being a scary yet wonderful time.  Besides all the normal anxiety of pregnancy, choosing a name for your child can be overwhelming and terrifying.  What if you choose the wrong one?  Will your child be forever burdened by the name you settled on? 

I've never been one to follow a trend.  I was certain that I wanted to find unique and original names for our kids.  But, I really had no idea how to do that.  I bought several baby name books and Ed and I would both go through them and highlight our favorites.  Needless to say, we had chosen way more than we needed.  For each of our four children, Ed always wanted the same name.  It's a unisex name that could work for a boy or a girl. He wanted the name "Jessie".  He didn't care how it was spelled.  He just really liked the name.  None of our kids ended up being named Jessie.  But I have to say Ed never wavered from what he liked, whether we used it or not. 

For our oldest, we were looking through Ed's family bible and saw the name, "Bryce" and really liked it.  At that time, over 25 years ago, there were very few with this name.  Until about three weeks before our son was born, we thought we would have a "Bryce".  Then, one Monday night, Ed and I were watching football on TV.  The Denver Broncos happened to be playing and Ed mentioned he liked one of the players names.  It was Tyrone Braxton.  I had to ask if he meant Tyrone or Braxton! So, Braxton Edward was the name we decided upon for our first son born October, 11, 1990.

Our second pregnancy, we didn't have an issue with the name.  On the Belobrajdic side of the family, the name Blaze had been used for several generations.  My great grandfather was named "Blaz" and has had many male Belobrajdic's named for him since, although the spelling of the name varies. My other great grandfather was named "Paul" and this name has been used for other generations, as well.  My dad actually has a combination of both names as he's "Paul Blaise".  I have a cousin "Blase" and a second cousin "Blaze".  I also have a cousin "Paul".  So, Ed and I decided to name our second son Blaize Paul.  Born May 26, 1992, our Blaizer holds heritage from both my great grandfathers within his name.

Our third pregnancy brought a third son.  We went back to the baby name books because I saw a pattern develop with the naming of our first two that I wanted to break.  Both older boys had names that began with the letter B.  When our kids were being born, there was a big fade of naming all your kids with the same first letter of the name.  An alliteration, of sorts.  Using the letter J was very popular.  I was determined I was NOT going to do this.  Braxton's name was a name we fell in love with and Blaize had such a strong connection to my family that we never thought that both began with the letter B until long after we named them.  Saying their names together flowed off the tongue so well.  A third son with a different first letter didn't sound right.  Darn that alliteration! When we found the name "Brody" in the baby name book, we both loved it.  So, that was it.  Brody Scott was born December 20, 1993.

Even though we had decided we might wait a little before trying for a fourth child, God must have had another plan.  We were quite surprised to find out we were expecting another baby...and our first daughter.  This was a time we could have used a name that didn't start with the same letter as the boys but we had run across a name when we were searching for boy names that we had liked for a little girl.  We decided to use it.  If I ever had a daughter, I wanted her to have a name that we could shorten...a nickname.  The name "Bentley" was perfect.  Her nickname would be "Beni".  So, our baby and only little girl, Bentley Lynne, was born on September 1, 1995. 

All the kids have middle names that are after family members.  If they grew up and didn't like their first names, they could use their middle names.  But, all of our kids have said they liked the fact their names are unique.  They were the only ones in their classes with that name.  Now, as they've gotten older, I have noticed many more kids with our kids' names.  Just a sign of the times.

I have never once regretted the names we have chosen for all four of our children.  It's amazing, really, because the babies become the names they are given, don't they?  I couldn't imagine our kids with any other names than the ones they have.  Their names truly fit their personalities.  Even though they were called the "B kids" or the "Killer B's" when they were growing up, I don't think they minded. 

My Grandpa Belobrajdic was an avid Wall Street Journal reader.  He lived to see all three boys born.  As we were choosing names, he told me about an article he had read in the WSJ that said if a child is named with four or more of the same letter (using his first, middle and last name) then he was bound for success.  I have to say that I did keep that in mind when naming the boys.  I have to confess, I did add an 'e' on the end of Bentley's middle name to give her four e's.  Good old Grandpa. 

I figured out all of our names once.  Now, I can't remember who was supposed to be successful and who isn't (except for Beni, of course-wink, wink).  Guess I'll have to try it again and see how accurate Grandpa's article was.  Four of the same letters or not, I love each of the kid's names.  I bet Ed would be happy to know "Jessie Stewart" has three S's and three E's without even adding a middle name.  Hhmm...maybe we should have named one with a J. 

It is what it is.

p

The power of the written word...

I have always been a writer.  I grew up with a mom who wrote 'daily lists' and we would work off of those to get things done.  It was just a natural part of our day.  She taught me to write my thoughts and feelings down.  She gave me my first diary.  I'm not even sure people use diaries any more.  Maybe they're called journals now.  The thrill of writing things, privately, was something I loved!  I remember my brother trying to find the key to the flimsy lock my diary had.  It was so empowering knowing that my words would remain secret behind this golden lock.  I wrote in it every night.  I ended up with several diaries.  Looking back on them, when I would start a new one, it was obvious how my writing improved.  I became more comfortable with the written word.  It was a special, unique part of my life.  No one graded what I wrote.  No one saw it but me.  The words were honest and open.  Sometimes reading back, I would laugh and sometimes I would immediately feel the pain some words were initially written with.  That's the power of the written word.

As I grew up and met Ed (in junior high), I started writing notes to him during the school day.  Of course, in those days we didn't have cell phones so there was no texting.  Writing notes and folding them in special ways was what we did in the 80's!  Since Ed and I dated for several years, when we got married, we had huge garbage bags full of old notes we had each written each other.  Mine were long and sappy.  Ed's were all the same.  God love him, he tried.  Almost all of his had the same content.  But, I was always thrilled to see him walking toward me with a note.  It was just between us.  Those notes meant so much to me and I knew he only wrote them because I asked him to.  Made me love him even more.

Once the kids were born, I loved writing in their baby books.  But beyond that, when they were little it was hard to take the time to sit down and write anything else.  We were so busy with four kids in 5 years.  Once they were school aged, I tried to include a little note in each of their school lunches.  I wanted them to have a little bit of home during the day.

Even though I was now a wife and mom, my mom never stopped writing notes and sending them to me until she passed away in 2002.  It was then that I realized how important the written word was.  To not only be able to hear her voice again, in my head, as I read what she wrote, but to also see her handwriting.  Those are priceless gifts. 

Soon after she passed away, I remembered a book of poetry that mom had been writing in during her illness.  She gave it to me about a year before she died.  She had underlined phrases in certain poems and had written in the margins beside others.  I truly think mom wanted me to have this lasting memory.  She must have known I would read it over and over.  Not often, though, because most days it's still too painful to read much from that book.  But over the 12 years she's been gone, I have reached for that book countless times...sometimes only getting through one poem.  The book sits on my bedside table.  It's always there if I need it.  It's one of my most prized possessions. 

In mom's honor, at Christmas time several years ago, I bought a journal at a bookstore.  I made the first entry and gave it to one of my sons.  The entry explained that this journal would be passed around from one family member to another.  It could happen at any time or any place.  The family member who receives the journal gets to pick the next family member to receive it.  Sometimes, the journal has been passed on in a few months.  Other times, it's been a year or more.  It needs to be given when something meaningful happens.  Besides the first entry I wrote, I received it back once, as well.  I was able to read the other entries my family had made.  To read the interactions of my family is remarkable.  This is, by far, the best Christmas gift we have ever given each other.

In whatever form it may be, I believe we all need to write. Write to those we love.  Write to anyone who touches our lives.  We rarely think about the power of the written word.  It's a lost art.  Take the time to do it.  Make sure that when you can't write any longer, your words will remain.

It is what it is.

p

Junior high days...

A picture can certainly take you back in time.  Last night I started seeing posts on Facebook of our local junior high's 8th grade recognition.  It was as if I was immediately in the gym again with each of our four kids.  It's moments like those that make me realize how quickly time goes by.  It also made me think about how formative those two years can be for our kids.

Our oldest son, Braxton, entered junior high when his three younger siblings were still in grade school.  They thought he was really something being in a new building with two separate floors and so many kids.  The chance to try out for extra-curricular activities was new, as well.  Our family has always been involved in sports, student government, etc. From the age of 5, all four played soccer through the JSA (Jacksonville Soccer Association) and traveled with soccer, as well.  But as far as organized IESA activities, Braxton was entering uncharted territory. 

Through their years in 7th and 8th grade, our kids were involved with basketball, wrestling, track, volleyball and cheerleading.  These years are both awkward and challenging.  From the time they go into 7th grade to the day they leave as soon-to-be freshman, the change is remarkable.  So many people want to rush kids to high school, but, I for one, loved the junior high time.  Our kids grew so much and truly started to emerge as the young adults they would fine-tune in high school. 

As I look back, I feel like my hardest day as a mom came when our second son, Blaize, was in 7th grade.  He watched his older brother make the basketball team the year before him and he decided he wanted to try-out when he entered 7th grade, too.  Now, if you know Blaize, you know he doesn't really like basketball!  So, the fact he wanted to try out was kind of a surprise.  Looking back, he says his friends were trying out and so he thought he needed to do this to fit in.  Long story short, the day the kids found out if they made it or not, Blaize came out of the school carrying an envelope.  As he got in the car, he told me that the envelope was 'too thin' and he knew he didn't make it.  I asked what he meant and he said the boys who got 'thicker' envelopes opened them in the gym and the envelope had not only a congratulatory letter but also the team practice/game schedule (hence the thickness).  Blaize said he hadn't opened his in the gym because he knew he hadn't made it and didn't want to be in front of everyone when he opened his envelope.  The look on his face was one I had never seen before.  This was his first real disappointment.  He was crushed.

As I drove him home, he cried.  When he got home, he cried.  I cried with him.  He wasn't upset because he wouldn't be able to play basketball.  The ironic thing is that it was never really about the sport.  It was about belonging.  It was about being a 'cool' kid who might become popular because he was on a team that was deemed a necessity for proper junior high status.  

I remember feeling the most helpless I have ever felt as a parent.  I could do nothing to help him or to ease his pain.  While Ed and I knew that Blaize would be fine, he didn't know that.  All he knew is that something he had desperately wanted was beyond his reach. 

We've always been able to talk with our kids.  So, as we sat on the couch and cried together, I suggested that Blaize think about asking the coach if he could become the manager of the team.  That way, he could be around his friends (and not have to actually play basketball...which was perfectly fine with him) and he would be a part of the team atmosphere.  Of course, Blaize knew that being a manager didn't come with the same imagined glory that being a player did, but he thought about it and decided he would ask the coach. 

He ended up becoming the manager for the 7th grade team that year and told us he had made an important decision for 8th grade.  He wanted to try out for the team!  He said he wanted to prove to himself that he could make it.  Needless to say we were really anxious about it.  I didn't want to see him go through any more heartache.  But, it was his decision and we supported it.  He made the team! He was thrilled.  He didn't play in many games that season, but he could have cared less.  He had accomplished a goal and that's all that mattered.  Years later he told us that the junior high days seemed so important then in terms of shaping who he was or who he would become.  He said none of it really mattered now but he was glad he had experienced it.

As a parent, we see our kids through the ups and downs.  Blaize has become such a strong and confident young man.  Was what he experienced in junior high a reason for that?  Could be.  Life is made up of a series of events.  I feel like they make us who we are.  Although I hated seeing him unhappy back then, it's a normal part of growing up.  So many kids face much worse than not making a team at their junior high.  While we may be breaking inside because of the pain our kids feel for one reason or another, I think it's tremendously important that we keep it in perspective for our kids.  If we help them search for solutions instead of wallowing in their self-pity because of a junior high disappointment, it becomes a learning experience instead of a major life event.  Junior high is not a major life event.  It's called growing up.

Of course, I've told Blaize since how devastated I was for him.  He kind of laughed.  He has the fondest memories of junior high and even of basketball.  He reminded me that he had never even liked basketball.  Trying out again for 8th grade was just something he needed to do for himself. 

So, that hardest moment I have had as a mom has become one of my proudest, too.  Blaize grew in those few years.  On his own.  Isn't that what we want for our kids? 

It is what it is.

p

And so it begins...

I have thought about starting a blog for quite awhile now.  The past several years have been interesting to say the least.  Life takes twists and turns that we don't always anticipate nor expect.  But, I'm starting to realize that "it is what it is".  This is the path I'm supposed to be on.  My blogs will be about how I navigate this journey. 

I tried to define myself once and found that being a wife and mom were the two most important parts of my life.  I had a moment of panic when I wondered if this was enough.  Should I be more?  Was there something else I was supposed to be doing?  Should I be making a bigger impact in the world?  From the moment our first son was born, I knew that I was meant to be a mom.  It was the most natural feeling I had ever had. 

As I work myself through this new Blog experience, I plan to just share 'me' with you.  I feel like I'm the same as so many mom's who never go a minute without her children on her mind.  Putting the words into this blog will probably be therapeutic and maybe others will see themselves in what I write.  I can't imagine I'm the only one out there. 

Since I'll be talking about our family, let me introduce you.  My husband is Ed.  He's the father of our four kids.  Our oldest son is Braxton, 24.  Next, there's Blaize, he's 22.  Our 21 year old son is Brody.  The baby is also our only daughter, Bentley, 19.  And we do have a mutt rescued from the pound several years ago, Oliver, although he's not very good with people (ha) so not many know we actually have a dog!  More about all of them later.

Sometimes there is laughter...sometimes tears.  But, we always seem to make it through as a family.  It's not perfect.  Not by any means.  But, it's our perfect. 

It is what it is. 

p