Saturday, May 3, 2014

The older I get the more I worry. . .

The older I get the more I worry. I'm told it's because with age comes added responsibility which equals more stress. One of the things I find myself doing when I have a quiet minute to sit and fret is look outside my bedroom window. I never expected when we bought our house six years ago, that the view from my bedroom would have such an effect on my sanity. I never cared much for views before, like when making a cruise reservation I chose a room with a tiny porthole where all you could see was water. The time we stayed at a bed and breakfast, I'm sure the description of the view, lake or mountains, had no bearing on which room I chose. But for now, I'm really attached to the sight of our neighbors trees against the red brick background of her house.

Last winter I was worrying about whether or not to change departments at my job. I would wake up and see the branches sparkling as light began to filter in against the icy blue sky. Then I'd wrap my blanket tighter against my skin and wonder what to do. I felt weighed down like the tree branches, crusted with snow. I hunkered down in my position at work all winter, and it was cozy for a long time. Now that it's spring I'm ready to make that move within my company, but I still feel wobbly with anticipation, as I stand on the brink. The landscape around us grows so much during the spring.

Early this spring I was studying with Hunter. He asked what the word 'bud' meant. I asked him to remember what the trees outside my window looked like covered in leaves. I explained the tiny leaf buds he saw now would soon become big leaves by summer. As I watched him grasp this new concept I remembered last fall, the leaves had started to turn crinkly and orange when he brought his first phonics book home from kindergarten. It was called "A School". It has the word "a" next to a pictured object on every page. I was so frustrated. I'd tell him the word is "a", he'd repeat it, then I'd turn the page, point to "a" and he would scream he didn't know what it was. We read that book for two weeks until he could remember the word "a".

I still worry about the rate at which he's learning new things. I have to keep reminding myself that we're making progress. It may not seem like it when I'm comparing yesterday to today, but when I think about where we were last fall compared to now, I realize he is reading those phonics books with minimal help. We only have one month until summer. The closer it gets the more I dread the possibility he will begin to forget what he's learned while he's out of school.

I question my organizational ability to make the lesson plans without the sheet sent home from Kindergarten showing me what he needs to learn each week. Will he take spelling tests seriously when I'm the one giving them? Am I taking away from his childhood? Are summers just for fun, or should I expect his mind to grow, just like the branches grow during these hot months to reach the top of our roof. Things are going to change and I'm fearing it. It will be so hot outside, we'll become lethargic. When we study we'll forego our nice view out the window from my bed, to sit on top of the air conditioning vent. We won't be able to see the blossoms next door. If the flower buds had feelings, would they also fear the process of change? Or would they realize they have to grow, to constantly change, until they bloom?

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