Traveling anxiety

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It is almost 4:00 am in my neck of the woods and obviously, I cannot sleep.

Every time we travel, I get in a funky mood.

It begins two days before the travel date. I run around our home trying to do a zillion things and not doing anything because I forget what I am supposed to do.

I write many, many list and I loose them, so I began writing again, just to forget what I was supposed to write down.

I check the kids' luggage, their vacation homework, my keys, my purse, my cell phone and still, I always have that dreadful feeling that I am forgetting something.

In approximately 12 hours we will be taking a plane to our vacation home and I can't wait!

It involves a lot of hard work on my behalf, mainly because for most of the time it will just be the kids and I, but their happy faces makes it all worth it.

They enjoy more freedom that they are used to. They are able to ride their bikes on the streets. They'll be swimming everyday and playing and just being kids.

And I will be enjoying my children the way I never get to during the school year, when we are always so busy, we almost don't have time to relax together.

OK, I think it is time for me to pack my laptop and cross out one more thing off my list. Good night!

Accomplishments

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My dad's side of the family are all artists.

My great grandfather, Joseph Schreurs, was a Clarinet prodigy and artistic director of the Chicago Orchestra in the late 1800's.

My grandmother was a violin concertmaster. I remember growing up listening to her rehearsing over and over Vivaldi's Four Seasons.

My uncles and my aunt are all musicians. They are composers and singers and very talented.

Even though we, grandchildren, took violin lessons with grandma, I never got the hold of it and was, very gently, let go of my music lessons.

Last Tuesday, my beautiful 8 years old son, gave his first violin recital.

What amazes me is that he never touched a musical instrument before August. His new school is integral education oriented, and that includes arts.

He stood there, holding his violin, his hand perfectly positioned on the bow, so serious and concentrated, watching the crowd with no nervousness in his eyes and began playing. Simple and yet beautiful.

I am so proud of my son!

Six years

On the 25th, my baby girl will turn six years old!

For those of you who are working on the math, yes: my girls are one year, and nine days apart.

Six years ago, I finally got the chance to hug my precious baby girl. She was not as tiny as her sister. She had big, brown eyes and a tiny nose.

Of all my children, this little, beautiful girl was the most difficult. I have always told her that if she had been the oldest, she would be an only child. I bet sometimes she wishes that was true!

She had a terrible temper and would go into a tantrum at the slightest motive. Little did we know that she was oversensitive to smells, noise, light and touch. Thank goodness that neurological condition was overgrown some years ago.

She was only 11 months old when she began forming complete sentences to express her needs, wants and feelings... Since then, that high pitched voice of hers is a constant sound in our home and I love to hear it!

She and I share a special connection: it only takes a look into each others eyes to know what the other wants. She would rather be with mommy than with daddy. In fact, she didn't like to be held by dad until she was over a year old.

Her temper has mellowed, but she is as determined and stubborn as her mom.

She is an artist. She paints beautifully and even has one of her pieces exhibited. She did it at 4!

She has a beautiful voice and loves to dance. Has a prolific imagination and loves to tell stories about the characters that live inside that little head of hers.

She is a girly girl: she loves to play with her dolls and to play dress up and watch princesses movies.

Again, the day after tomorrow, will be a day a celebration and joy in our home.

One more week to go...

No matter the influenza virus and the changes in the school calendar, we are leaving for a month long vacation at the end of this week.

My kids have had a hard year at school. They have worked their way the best they can.

I, being a SAHM, studied first grade of elementary school with the two oldest as if my life depended on their grades.

I can see the tiredness in their eyes. Their effort to get up every morning.

I am very proud of them.

Lets hope that the week flies by, so we can finally are able to enjoy some quiet time as a family.

Pain & Suffering

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To suffer means to undergo, to be subjected to or to endure pain, distress, injury, disadvantage, loss or anything unpleasant.

Suffering in a reality for all human beings. We will all suffer one way or another, and if you believe that you haven't suffer, I have bad news for you: you will!

Another reality of human life is that no one knows how others are suffering. We can imagine it, we can relate to the pain of others, but we will never experience, first hand, others' pain.

Pain means physical suffering or distress; mental or emotional suffering or torment. As you can see, pain can be physical, emotional, psychological or spiritual. It may show in the face of the sufferer, or it will live in the deepest nooks of one's soul.

But not all that are in pain are suffering, have you notice that?

Many people are so used to pain, that they cannot even imagine a pain-free life. Pain is a reality in their lives and they may or may not suffer because of it.

Others, on the contrary, at the minimal pain, suffer to the extreme.

Is their pain different? Yes, but their perception about their pain is different as well. Accordingly, their attitude towards pain is different, so their suffering is as well.

Have you ever stop to think what makes you suffer?

Are you suffering because of the lack of financial security we are all struggling with?

Are you suffering because you hit your big toe on the bed leg?

Are you suffering because you are not finding meaning to your life?

Are you suffering because you are not able to buy that dress you wanted so much, or that car you envy, or the latest mobile phone?

Are you suffering because your spouse left, or is colder towards you, or indifferent?

Are you suffering because you or someone you love has lost their health?

Are you suffering because someone you loved died?

The first step is being honest with yourself and acknowledge the event responsible for your suffering.

Can you do something to change it? If you can, please do it.

If not, is there anyway you might possibly consider let yourself feel the pain?

When we embrace our pain, our suffering decreases significantly.

Revisiting my childhood

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Some posts ago, I wrote that my daughter and I are sharing some books of my childhood. My favorite books then.

They were written by Enid Blyton and they are the "Malory Towers" series. They were written in the 1940's and even though many years have passed since then, human nature hasn't.

My parents gave them to me around my 8th birthday and I read and reread them until my teen years. There are many pictures of me with a book of the series in my hand.

Well, I reread the first one before my daughter last Monday. Today, I finished the fifth one.

I realize that those books are part of what I have become over the years. They are about a group of girls that attend boarding school at Malory Towers. Ms. Blyton wrote beautifully, yet, simply, about their personalities and how they evolved over the years.

I always admired Darrell Rivers and her friend Sally, the main characters of the series. But I also recognized some of Gwendoline Mary in me, and tried to change it. I used to be hard and judgmental as Alicia, I tried to soften that horrible aspect of me.

I am an avid reader and I really hope my kids learn to enjoy reading as much as I do. Since the day I discovered the wonder world contained in books, I have never felt alone or bored. Books have been loyal friends to me since childhood.

Do you have a favorite book from your childhood? Why not read it again and discover what you have in you from that early experience?

Thank you Ms. Blyton for helping me discover the wonderful world of written words!

Lack of compassion

I had a meeting yesterday with some moms of my son's school.

We were having coffee and talking about nothing important when a someone asked who was leaving our school.

One lady began saying the names of the boys that were going away and she mentioned a boy whose brother died tragically almost 2 years ago. After that, she said that the boy was out of control and "impossible to deal with".

The gossip began: how? when? where? And someone loudly said: "he committed suicide". The faces changed immediately and again the questions began. Everyone had something to say.

I was sitting there, looking at them, not wanting to believe what I was hearing. How dare they say something like that!

I couldn't believe it! They were judging that family so lightly and with such authority and obviously my blood began to boil.

This family had to face one of life's tragedies: the death of a child. They are trying to survive. They are making adjustments to cope the best they can.

Of course this little boy is "impossible to deal with": he lost his older brother, the mom he knew before the tragedy, the dad he had before his brother died and the older siblings that spent more time with the one that died and witnessed the accident. He was trying to adjust to all these changes and was sent to a new school on top of everything else. Can you imagine being 8 years old and dealing with all this pain?

I tried to explain these facts to those ladies, but no, they were so involved in their gossip that didn't want to hear what I had to say.

I got up and left. I didn't want to be there anymore.

I deeply believe that there is no excuse for the lack of compassion, not whatsoever. Stupidity, ignorance, gossip, false pity are not excuses for me!