Middle School Mania

Remember what it was like to be a sixth grader? I have been spending a couple Friday afternoons per month subbing for a sixth grade teacher who is also a basketball coach. As the other sixth grade teacher commented to me the first day during PE, “Sixth grade boys are a different animal completely.” They certainly are, but so are the girls. Does any of this sound familiar?


Boys showing camaraderie through tackling,

Girls looking like little girls playing dress up,

Boys treating girls they’re interested in like other boys,

Girls wearing plastic jewelry,

Boys who can’t sit still,

Girls who can’t quit talking,

Arguing without really having a point,

Dressing as twins,

Moving as a pack,

Note passing, and

Tolerating unflattering nicknames that mean you are “accepted.”

Remember when the need to “clump” was so instinctive that boys went to the water fountain in pairs and a girl who was tagged during dodgeball refused to be “out” unless her friend went with her? Remember how “popular” kids coined slang and influenced group perceptions? Remember being an individual meant sometimes being given positive attention by the “in” group, but unpredictably being made fun of or left out at other times? Remember that unique state of fluctuating wildly between being silly and responsible, grown up and child-like?

Ah, yes. Sixth graders; a different animal, indeed.

Obsession or Creativity?

Here’s my latest project:  a calendar. Not a big deal, but it gives me something fun to do on the computer, which keeps me from going insane, and the final product is actually helpful. I’m quite pleased with the layout and design; plenty of room to write, breaks up the month visually, and includes lots of my favorite pictures. Yes, there are many other things that I should be doing instead, but, oh well.

I have lots of little things to keep my hands and mind occupied during the slower hours of caregiving. I blog, I read, I play with graphics, I photograph, I scrapbook, I pull weeds, I knit and I bake. Even though taking care of someone and making yourself continually available is definitely a great accomplishment and fulfilling in and of itself, having little projects around that are fun (do NOT insert "housekeeping" here) keeps me from feeling trapped and adds a sense of creativity and visible accomplishment to the day.

I wonder if this also explains Mom's determination to do certain things, as well. Maybe she works her crosswords, reads, and continually reorganizes different little areas of her room because she is bored and feeling trapped, too. Until now, I had thought of our roles as being opposite, but maybe caregiving and being cared for are, in  some ways, parallel paths.

What Matters

In our neck of the woods the new year dawned at a clear, crisp eight degrees and was up to a whopping twelve above zero by lunchtime. The sun shone on the ice-covered branches that sparkled against the blue sky and, in between popping in and out of Mom’s room to help her now and then, I leisurely snapped some pictures on this lovely, lazy day. Little did I know that the day would soon change.

Earlier in the week we had learned of the sudden death of my cousin, Shari, on Christmas Eve morning. We spent the ensuing days trying to grasp this unexpected news as memories flooded us. I tried to focus on the thought of her spending Christmas with the very One whose birth we were celebrating. We spent New Years Eve, the day of her funeral service, in prayer so that we might join the family in spirit.

Because of our loss, the first day of 2011 seemed even more like a beginning. We had had a reminder of the sanctity of life and the choice to live it whole heartedly and with humor and love, the way Shari had, and the radiant day seemed to invite us to do just that. Then we heard a double thump on the monitor that links us to Mom when she is in her room followed by her voice calling me. Sure enough, she had fallen. Hanging on to her walker while she reached sideways to pick up a Kleenex off her bed, she lost her delicate balance and tipped over. Somehow, in that narrow, carpeted space between the closet and her bed she scraped her head against something that left an inch-long gouge. A quick trip to the emergency room resulted in a CAT scan to make sure hidden blood vessels were not disturbed and then four staples closed the gap in her scalp. Of course, that took most of the afternoon and we trudged home with much less verve than we had started the day. Although Mom was muttering that she had gone without any makeup on and was appalled at the look of her matted hair when she got home, we were thankful that things were not worse and reassured her that she was not bound for a nursing home. I went to bed hoping for a New Years Day do-over; that this little mishap was not a premonition of things to come. Sure enough, today was better.

Every summer, when we go back to take care of Mom’s house and yard, we visit two of her best friends that are still alive and living in a retirement complex. I have spoken before of their humorous visits in which I am called upon to repeat everyone’s sentences so they can hear better. Last year, we did not get everyone together because Mom was not up to it in June, and her pacemaker surgery kept us from going back. Over Christmas Jen devised a plan for them to have a long distance visit over Skype and recruited a family friend who works at the retirement complex to help us. Today that visit took place and was every bit as hysterical and heart warming as ever. They laughed over age and mixed up memories, they talked over one another and relied on me for repetition and interpretation, they told our friend he was cute, and they waved and told each other good bye and that they loved and missed each other until I finally closed the connection. Their sounds of earnest sincerity will always be with me; a lesson in treasured friendship that I will never forget.

The end of 2010 and the beginning of 2011 has certainly been a time of transition for us. We are different. Things around us are different. We will sorely miss the good things of before, the people and lives that were so familiar and safe, but we have been reminded not to be afraid of what’s ahead. There will be moments of stumbling, but we still have each other to reach for and the light of friendship and love to guide us. Happy New Year to us all. May we live it with as much joy as possible.