Wonder Years

Jeanna G4 Comments

My daughter’s 5th grade year just came to an end, but right before they ushered the students out the door, the teachers delivered the Human Growth and Development Unit. Remember that awkward time when the boys and girls enter separate classrooms to learn about puberty and all the associated topics? And everyone is uncomfortable and embarrassed when discussing what is about to happen to them? My daughter ensured that I had to live it twice by texting me audio clips of the teacher’s messages, and always followed them up with a frowny face emoji. I might as well have named her Peter, because she does not want to grow up. But I know she wonders. She asks me questions and tells me the crazy stuff she overhears on the bus, seeking the truth.

Thinking back on my wonder years, I thought everything was strange and exciting. I felt the angst of coming of age. I felt curious and confused. I struggled when trying to piece everything together and make sense of it all. And I was always wondering about what the future held.

At that age I wanted to be a part of everything, and be the best at anything. I compared myself to everyone. I had unsupported goals and extravagant dreams. Everything was a big deal, but it also wasn’t. I knew I was liked, but I also wasn’t so sure why. Back then I wondered what everyone thought of me. Now I just want to figure out what I think of myself.

Recently, I was chatting with a friend about plans for the summer, and that my daughter would be away at camp for most of her break. My friend said, “Do something you’ve been wanting to do.” I joked and replied, “I’d really like to take a nap!” But then I started wondering, what do I want to with myself? I wonder, if I weren’t a mom, and I didn’t have to work for a living, what would I do? Who would I be? I am having a self-imposed identity crisis!

Now that I think about it, I’m back in my wonder years. And until I figure it all out, I guess I’ll just keep on wondering. I mean, not all who wonder are lost, right?!

Life: An Everlasting Scavenger Hunt

Jeanna G2 Comments

As I checked my credit card statement, and retraced my steps to finally find my credit card in the pocket of my pants, a week after misplacing it, I couldn’t help but be reminded of the many scavenger and treasure hunts I went on as a child.

I went on hunts at birthday parties, on Easter morning, as an event with my youth group and extracurricular clubs. One required us to take a Polaroid picture at each new location to prove we had been there. One was a service-themed hunt, in which we had to collect different types of trash from around town. Some gave us prizes at each stop along the way, and some only had one prize at the end, whether we got there first or last. But all of them had us traveling all over the place, unsure if we were looking for the right thing or going in the right direction. Along the way, we’d pick up random, worthless items to cling to as prizes to prove we could follow directions and solve riddles. Oftentimes we just walked in circles, feeling a little lost, hoping to get a clue.

Now that I think about it, those hunts sound like my daily adult life.

Maybe that’s the whole point of those scavenger hunts: to prepare us for a life of finding what we are looking for.

Mother’s Day

Jeanna GLeave a comment

I hope you have a great day! You deserve it. You should relax. You should be celebrated! Put your feet up. Go to brunch! Get pampered! Oh, and try not to think about all the crap you have to do.

Know what I did today for Mother’s Day? I cleaned my house. And it made me so happy.

When I was a kid, on Mother’s Day, I decided to “do my mom a favor” and make her breakfast in bed. I put Cheerios and milk in a bowl, set it on a tray, and carried it upstairs to her bedroom. The door was shut, so I had to set the tray down in order to open the door. But little did I know that one leg of the tray was not locked open, so when I set it down, the bowl of Cheerios promptly spilled all over the hallway rug. Don’t cry over spilled milk? I guarantee you a mom is not who coined that phrase. I cried…a lot. But I cried because I was a kid and I had limited options when it came to gift-giving, and my one gift was ruined. Thinking back on it, I still cry, but now I cry for my mom. My poor mom. I mean, it’s not like I cleaned up the Cheerios. Cook, clean, repeat.

Now that I’m a mom, the greatest gift I could ask for on Mother’s Day (or any day) is a clean house. I wish for every to-do list to be checked off. I wish for no one to ask me to do anything or go anywhere. Just let me clean, so that tomorrow, when it’s ‘not’ Mother’s Day, I have one less thing to do.

*Clang* *Splash*

“What was that?”

“Mommmm. I just spilled my juice all over the table and now it’s dripping on the floor.”