"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

She Made Her Own Path...

Our youngest child--and our only daughter--graduated from the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign recently.  She now holds a Bachelors in Elementary Education.  She's going to be a teacher.

It's been a five year journey with many 'ups' and 'downs.'

More 'ups.'

But, the 'downs' are a part of any experience.

As I sat back and watched her walked across that stage, I couldn't stop my eyes from welling up.  She did this on her own.

She made her own path.

When you're the baby and the only girl in a family, it's both a blessing and a curse.  She's not only happily spoiled by her brothers (and us) but she is often discounted, as well.  We never did it on purpose.  But, I have no doubt there were times she felt as if we didn't listen to her as much or didn't seek her opinion as often as we did her brothers'.

She's one of the sweetest people I've ever known.  Always wants to see the best in everyone.  Forever smiling and caring.  It's no wonder she became a teacher.  She's following her true calling.

She started at U of I with all three brothers.  Over the years, one after another left and there was one year she was all alone.

It's within that year that Ed and I noticed our little girl was able to handle herself.  She made decisions and shouldered responsibilities which she wouldn't have done without one of us previously.  She was forced to 'grow up.'  She did it with ease.  I know she undoubtedly struggled yet she didn't let on.

She made her own path.

Ed and I finally had a chance to sit and talk with Beni not too long ago.  We've not been the most attentive of parents in recent months with my mother-in-law's illness and subsequent death.  We apologized to Bentley and told her how proud we were of her.

Life 'happens' in ways we least expect...when we least expect it. I don't know if Ed and I handled everything the best we could.  Whatever we did or didn't do as parents during that time, she somehow came out unscathed and stronger than ever.  These last months made our daughter even more independent and steadfast.  My heart hurts knowing she would have wanted us 'more' yet the positives outweigh the negatives.  I am at peace with that.

I really have no idea what I hoped for as Bentley's future.  It became clear early on that she would do something which helped others.  I was thrilled when she showed an interest in education.  My family has a stronghold in that profession and I'd like to think she came by this naturally.  It's one of the most thankless professions there is while being one of the most rewarding.  I'm so very proud of her choice.

While I will continue to see my daughter through the eyes of a mother for the rest of my life, I have to remind myself she is such a strong and independent woman now.

I can't promise her that her brothers will ever stop spoiling her.

I can't say her dad and I will, either.

Or, making fun of all the things she did when she was little.  It's kind of fun, truthfully.

It's hard for all of us to admit our little Beni Lynne has grown up.

My baby.

My only daughter.

The image of her brothers crowded around her, as a newborn, laying on a blanket on the floor...singing "You are my sunshine" to her at the top of their lungs will forever be one of my fondest memories of my four children.

The palm tree of rubber-banded hair on top of her toddler head.

Fast forward to the breathtakingly beautiful (inside and out) woman in her U of I blue cap and gown.

We love her, desperately.

She made her own path.

It is what it is.

p

She's Supposed to be Here...

In the hierarchy of life, your mom is supposed to be here...the matriarch of the family.

Your mom is the first example of what 'love' means.  You don't know it, in the beginning, of course.

She's simply your first love.  Your 'first' everything. 

I wanted to be a mom for as long as I can remember.

I wanted to be a mommy like my mommy.

When your foundation is shaken and the person you have the closest connection to in this world--she gave you actual life--is no longer here...well, it's indescribable.  Even for a person who finds words easily, I have not yet found the right ones to express this emotion of loss.

Though I lost my mom nearly 16 years ago, it's as fresh and as raw as if it was yesterday.  If I don't think about it, don't really think about it, it's almost bearable.

I have my moments and I let the tears flow.  But, for whatever reason, I tend to do this in private.  Not in front of Ed or in front of our kids.

She's supposed to be here.

It's been well-over a month since we lost my mother-in-law.

Recently, Ed told me he wanted to apologize to me.  He said he rarely asks about my mom or about how I'm feeling.  He said now that he's lost his mom--well, he can empathize like never before.

Of course, I told him there was nothing to apologize for because he would have had no possible way of knowing until it happened to him.  He's always been supportive.

We talk about how lucky we were.

Now, my mom was hardly perfect.  She could drive me crazy sometimes, yet, I looked forward to talking to her each and everyday.  We had ups and downs in our relationship but I never had a doubt how much she loved me and my brother.  She was the base of all we are today.  I could never repay her.  She showed me unconditional love. She showed me how to love my children.

Ed and his mom shared an often unspoken love between them.  If you knew them, there was not a doubt how deeply they cared about each other.  Everything Janet did was with Ed in mind.

Our moms were different.

And, our moms were the same.

They loved us.

We're in our early 50's now and both our moms are gone.

We don't like being the grown-ups.

I don't like being the only female left in our kids lives.  It's too soon.  Way too soon.

I suppose this is the way life goes.  The natural progression.

Our own mortality is hitting us square in the face.

Of course we know no one lives forever, but I often think about how sad life is that our kids weren't able to have their grandmothers for longer--and us--have our mom's.

They were quite a pair.

I remember my mom saying, when she got her cancer diagnosis, how envious she was of Janet.  The fact that Janet would be able to see our kids grow up and she wouldn't.  Mom said our kids were lucky they would have Janet there for them.

Now, mom and Janet are together again.  I'm sure Janet has filled mom in on anything she's missed.

I can imagine them laughing and smiling.

They're supposed to be here.

It is what it is.

p

What are we going to do now?

We walked out of the nursing home and stood in front of Ed's truck.

The funeral home was on its way.

We didn't say anything for a few minutes and then Ed looked at me.

“What are we going to do now?” he asked.

I saw Janet before I actually met her. The Turner Junior High gym. I was a cheerleader and she was that cute boy Eddie Stewart's mom. It was a basketball game and I was 12 or 13 years old.

There was no way I could have known, nearly 40 years later, the woman sitting on those bleachers would become such an integral part of my life.

I think Ed and I might have been in college when we were talking about our parents. Don't know what started that conversation, but, what sticks out is that I said something about how I had always told my parents how much I loved them and they would say the same to me—everyday--sometimes multiple times a day.

I can still see Ed's face, illuminated by his car's headlights, as we were heading down the back road from Floyd & Janet's house in Arcadia to Jacksonville.

He was looking straight ahead and said, “I've never told my mom I love her.”

I remember being shocked. That concept seemed so odd to me because I could clearly see how much they cared about each other.

I asked him why not?

He said, simply, “She knows.”

I told him to turn the car around.

We went back to their house and Janet was sitting at the kitchen table. She looked surprised we were back so soon.

We sat down and Ed said he just wanted to tell her something.

You should have seen her smile.

She quickly said, “I love you, too.”

From that moment on, the “I love you's” became more frequent.

You see, the thing about Janet and Ed's relationship is that they would do absolutely anything for each other.

That was the unspoken part.

But, that night, I think they both understood how important the spoken word was, too.

As outgoing as Janet was, Ed is equally as quiet.

Opposites?

No. He's his mother's son.

They have the kindest hearts. Caring. Compassionate.

They just expressed it differently.

But, both loved their families more than anything else in the world.

Janet was a natural caregiver. She'd done it all her life...for so many people she loved.

And, when she was the one who needed the care, Ed was there.

Unwavering. Supportive. Selfless.

She once told him, during these last months, that she knew he would make the right decisions for her—that she had complete trust in him.

That. Is. Love.

Perhaps the only people who Janet loved more than her son, were his children.

God, she was proud of them. Typical Grandma style.

Or, in the case of these four...Monger style.

When Braxton was little, he had constant ear infections. Dr. Dailey would tell us that everything sounded like it was underwater. So, when we would call Janet “Grandma” apparently, it sounded like Monger to him.

It stuck.

Our kids started out with three Mongers. Monger Ruby, Monger Lin, and Monger Janet.

About 15 years ago, Monger Janet was the only Monger they had left.

One grandparent.

As their mom, I'll be forever grateful for the love and support she gave to them.  Our Four 'B's, as she would call them.

Too many times, too many memories to share. But they hold those in their heart now. That's where they'll stay.  

We couldn't have asked for more.

“What are we going to do now?”

It's been a long, long time since I first saw Janet.

That cute boy, Eddie Stewart, became the love of my life. And his mom became more than the woman in those bleachers in the Turner Junior High gym.

She was my mother in law, my kids' Monger Janet, and in these past months, she became my friend.

I'm going to miss her.

It is what it is.

p

Asking for help can be a lifesaver...

It will soon be 6 months since her stroke.

In and out of the hospital.

So many 'ups.'

Just as many 'downs.'

We've tried anything and everything suggested to us by medical professionals.

A few Mondays ago, following the latest return from a hospital visit, we asked for help.

Ed signed the papers so Janet could enter hospice care.

After our initial meeting, we felt immediately at ease.

Janet has a large family and many, many friends.

But, when it comes to the decisions my husband makes for his mom, he has a small circle of us in whom he confides.  Our four children, of course.  Some of Janet's family.  Her sister, Esta, is a constant source of strength and guidance as is Janet's eldest grandchild, Justin.  We don't know what we would do without them. These months have bonded us in a way which words can't describe.  They know what this journey has been...because they've lived it right along with us.

But, sometimes, we doubt ourselves.  Are we doing all we can for her?  Have we exhausted every avenue of possibility?  Is the quality of life worth extending the quantity?

Hospice adds a layer of comfort to not only Janet but to us, as well.

Asking for help can be a lifesaver...when dealing with death.

Oxymoron?

Yes.

Death isn't only about the one who is actually dying.

Death is also about the loved ones who will be left behind.

Hospice gives us the answers we can't find for ourselves, as well as validation for the ones we do. 

Hospice gives us hope that Janet can be in charge of her death just as she was with her life.  

Those who know and love Janet are aware of her strong independence and her deeply caring and compassionate soul.  She has made it clear to Ed what her wishes are.  He is doing everything he can to make sure those wishes are carried out.  It's his turn to take care of her as she has done for us, and for so many, throughout her life.

Asking for help can be a lifesaver.

This is the first time, since August 6, where I feel at peace.  I see that Ed feels this, as well.  I think we can handle the days ahead.  The questioning has stopped.  While I felt we were before, I'm truly confident now we are doing our best for Janet.

There is no right or wrong when dealing with a loved ones illness.  Your love for them keeps you moving forward.  But, as a caregiver, I've learned how important it is to keep asking questions, to keep advocating, and to keep reaching out for help.

Hospice can be days, weeks, or even years.

While we have no idea how long Janet's journey will be, we do know one thing.

We know Janet will be allowed to end her days the same as she lived them.  

Life is so many things.  Milestones, momentous occasions, or mere moments.

We've spent many of those with Janet.

Now, we're here for her, again.

One final time.

It is what it is.

p