Start Early, Finish Strong

I met Sean at a flower shop, his family’s business. When I walked through the doorway for the first time, not only did the beauty of splashy colors steal my breath – so did he.

Charming, handsome, glib and making jokes, all while putting together the most beautiful bundle of flowers a girl could imagine. He was a dream and made my heart go pitter patter.

After spending hundreds of dollars over a relatively short period of time, on weekly bundles of ribbon wrapped flowers lovingly put together by Sean, I came to the realization that even though I had a terrific job with a salary to match, I could not maintain an obsession with flowers while waiting for the perfect moment to talk to him about something beyond the petals.

I would stop by the shop early in the morning when the freshest product was being processed from market, coyly asking if they were open and knowing full well that they were not. I secretly believed that if I bought a big enough bundle of flowers, he might help me carry the ginormous amount of pretty out to the parking lot.

BINGO! It worked.

He lovingly wrapped the bundles and headed straight for the silver Lexus.

“Um no,” I said shyly, “I drive the red pick-up truck.”

He celebrated the truck immediately, making me feel less awkward for not driving the pretty car. “The one with the Texas plates? You like Lyle Lovette?” He asked two questions as though they were one.

I thought to myself, “Yes, I am from Texas, yes, I love Lyle Lovette and yes I love you too.”

Overcome with happiness that he was engaging me deeper in conversation, I did the cheesiest thing ever.

I handed him my business card.

“I’m going to go broke buying so many flowers,” I said, “Why don’t you call me so we can talk over a cup of coffee?”

He took my card and went inside the store to collect the rest of my flowers. UGH! It was the longest 40 seconds ever. I stewed in my own quiet, berating myself for being so forthright.

He returned with the rest of the flowers, romantically wrapped in brown paper and tied with a green silk ribbon, thanked me for the card and immediately let me know that he was in the aftermath of an ending relationship.

Honest and direct – now I REALLY love him!

“Well, are you happy?” I asked.  I’d already been bold, it was time for the gold.

“Well, not exactly.” he said.

I found my voice right behind my gumption. The feisty spirit in me was not going to let this one go. I looked him in the eyes and said, “Well, life is too short. If things change, give me a call.”

Feeling like a Texas sized dork, yet entirely liberated all the same, I knew in my heart I did what was right.

You can’t find out how deep the water is if you don’t go in.

Sean is a gentleman and the perfect man.  He is as true as the sky is blue, his work ethic is relentless, he knows how to emotionally connect, he writes from the heart, and his integrity is unwavering.

He called me two weeks later after he took care of some “unfinished business” and we logged in a good 60 hours of phone conversation before we had our first date. We talked so long the first night that the battery died on my cordless and I had to run to the corner pay phone to squeeze in another hour of conversation before the sun rose.

I knew I loved him when we said good bye that night. I knew he would be my best friend and the father of my children.  I was confident that life was too short to spend another moment without him by my side.

Saturday was his birthday. I am grateful to Margaret and Joe for bringing me the miracle that is Sean Michael.

I am giddy and thankful to have a best friend with whom I can make more miracles happen. Every day is a gift when you live with Sean, and just like David Wright said, “ Sean is so happy he farts sunshine.”

It’s true. Happy Birthday Sean, you are my angel on earth and the best Dad in all the land. Thank you for calling me and making life sweeter with your presence and words.

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My children have language. Aye Chihuahua, do they have language. They can meet and greet with a hospitality that would put a southern belle to shame, discuss good books, movies and music with reasons why it was a remarkable piece of work (without using the word because), disarm you emotionally and ask you what the best and worst parts of your day were.

And now they do it in Spanish.

Mia is the leader of the pack, but Max is nipping at her heals. Sean has enough to keep everyone in check, and Grammy, well she could decimate us all in one sweeping syllable warfare, but chooses to keep it REAL  in English. Thank goodness, because I am at the tail end of the spectrum of not speaking Spanish.  I understand what children feel like when people are speaking and all you hear is blah, blah, blah with some r’s twirled perfectly.

However, I keep on listening because we all know with immersion of anything, it eventually becomes internalized and part of your daily habits.

Our children attend public school, but for all intents and purposes they are home schooled as well.  They learn all of their kindergarten and second grade content in Spanish with 40 minutes of English instruction during the school day.

This is a well established model of a Dual Immersion Program.

When Max and Mia come home, it is my job to make sure they transition the concepts into English and have all of the language needs met in our native tongue, with Sean by my side ensuring that the Spanish homework is in excellent shape.

We are a team.

We double dutch in two languages. It is not easy. It is absorbing and time consuming, yet I would not trade this experience for anything.

I love it.

Strong interactive home environments such as preschool and early learning programs are the first communal language experiences for most children. This time in a young child’s life is forever changing and evolving.

School experiences provide an outlet for children to expand their language beyond the home and family so that new relationships and learning experiences can be established.  This step should celebrate the curiosity and eagerness to learn that young children naturally possess.  As parents, teachers and community members we have a responsibility to encourage and foster a love for learning.

But what about the steps before children enter a formal school setting, or are on their way in the home schooling process?

From birth to school age, what learning experiences do you as parents and caregivers provide for young children so that they enter a formal school setting or continue with home schooling with confidence and tools to expand learning?

Sharing is caring. What language are you sharing with your child?

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“What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly.”
~ Richard Bach

Yesterday was the 40th year anniversary of the loss of my mother. She passed when I was three. My brother was a 9 week old baby.

When you grow up without a mother, each day deepens the realization that you must walk through life alone, slightly different than every one else. Such a huge loss leaves you searching for mentors; you spend your life looking for others to show you the way so that you can do things right. You develop abilities that people will say make you dynamic. To me it is just survival, an earnest desire to make a life my mother didn’t get a chance to have.

I am a motherless daughter.

My daughter reminds me each day of my life’s purpose and promise . She never lets me forget that I too had a mother. Every day, and in the most uncanny of ways, she keeps my mother alive. From the questions about my mother to the small moments on the long drives to school when she asks me what I remember about my mother, to the fortuitous spotting of a butterfly when she’ll invariably chirp, “There’s your Mommy, Mama. She stopped by to say hello to you today.” I white knuckle it through these moments. I smile, knowing that the voice of my mother is coming through loud and clear through my daughter.

My mother was from the Phillipines. She barely spoke English when my father brought her to the United States via the military. She left 10 brothers and sisters in a land that no longer exists due to vicious volcanoes that wiped her homeland like a smudge from the planet. She carried a red leather bound pocket size Webster Dictionary everywhere she went, crocheted madly even though she had dibilitating arthritis, always had a chocolate cake on a pedestal for other military wives that would stop by for chit chat and coffee in the percolator; the same percolator which today gives me an instant flashback whenever I hear the slurping sound that particular type of coffee maker makes.

We never wore shoes in the house, we always napped together in the big bed, and she dressed like a lady every day. She would put her hair in the teethed pink rollers, after she smoothed on the Dippity Do (hair gel in a jar from the swinging 60’s!) and tied a scarf around her head. That scarf pulled it all together and she always looked magnificent. I remember her saying, “No matter what you feel, put on your best dress.”

I live by these words to this day and, believe me, they have helped me through some impossible moments. I can look polished on the outside, even if I’m crumbling under the skin. Fake it till you make it, you sure were right about that, Mom.

I often wonder how many days you had to fake it, because the sadness I feel sometimes is just so overwhelming. Thank goodness for that perfect black Ann Taylor skirt tucked in the back of my closet.

Throughout the years I’ve searched each day, deep in my heart and mind to keep her alive. I try to make choices that I hope she would be proud of. I have those moments when I want to reach out and call her. I long to ask, “Why this…How do I do this… What did you do when…?”

Fortunately, I have the hand of my best friend and husband, Sean, who is the top dog to help me in these moments. However, sometimes in my search, I felt that, even as much as he gives, there is nothing that could ever replace my mother.

That was, until my daughter was born.

Mia will be 8 tomorrow. She is a testament that time heals all wounds. I believe with all my heart that she is a gift from my mother, sent to me so I could find the best mother inside me. Mia keeps me grounded, bonded, and humble. One of the hardest and sweetest days of my life was the day my daughter was born. Not because of the labor and inevitable aftermath, but because my mother wasn’t there to hold her and bond in that experience that connects women.

However, I was surrounded by Fillapina nurses that showered me with more love than most may have received that week in the hospital. And I had the comfort of the nurse telling me, “Your mom is here with you. You are holding her in your arms. No other person in the world besides you, your brother, and your children will have her DNA.”

I hold those words deep in my heart and live by them daily.

Thank you Nurse Leona.

Every day I search. I want to learn for myself how to be the mother I most want to be. I look in the mirror and say, “There she is.”

My mother will always look back at me as long as I take time to see the reflection, and remember to pay it forward for my children so that they will not know anything other than, My mom loves me and doesn’t dwell on the have nots. Only the freedom that life gives us to evolve, just as the caterpillar turns into a butterfly.

I love you Mommy, and I live each day to be the person you were, and the person my family will be proud to say, “That’s my mom.”

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