Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Nicholas, Happy Birthday to you!!
If I had one minute to share with you today, I would tell you that you are loved, more than you imagine.
If I had one hour with you today, I would tell you that I love you, with all of my heart. That the fact that we have not set eyes on each other doesn’t change a thing and that I do understand.
If I had one day with you, I would ask you a thousand questions and I would try to get to know you, know your favorite ice cream flavor, your favorite song, your favorite wii game, so every time I saw them I would think about you Nick.
If I had one week with you I would I would tell you my story and show you how much we have in common, how much alike our stories are and how much I wish I could spare you the pain that you must feel right now.
If I had one month with you, I would hold your hand as you came to understand that we have never stopped loving you or wanting you, that we made mistakes and sometimes life doesn’t allow us to do the things we want but that as soon as we could we came back to be close to you.
If I had a year to share with you I would take you to the places of your own, so that you could see with your own eyes that you have always been loved, that not only do you have a family with brothers and sisters and a dad and a stepmom, you have a grandma and an aunt and uncle who have learnt to love you from afar with the hope that one day they will meet you, once more.
If I had a lifetime to share with you, I would tell you that love is unconditional. I would tell you that the mistakes that our parents have made are their own mistakes and they do not define us. I would tell you that their mistakes were based on their own feelings and emotions and they had NOTHING to do with you. I would make sure that you knew that it was nothing you did or didn’t do, nothing you said or didn’t say, nothing you were or couldn’t be and everything to do with what they did and didn’t do, for you. However, despite their mistakes, despite their ignorance that has hurt you so much, they love you. It is in their effort to show you that love that they erred and that sometimes they don’t understand how much their mistakes hurt others, innocent others.
I don’t have any of those things, but I have hope that one day I will meet you. I have faith that our paths will cross and I will be able to share with you all of the love I have for you and I pray, I pray with all of my heart that one day you will be here, with your family, in love.
Happy Birthday Nick until we meet….
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Monday, March 2, 2009
Celebrating President's day
Wednesday morning came and I walked out of the house with both kids in tow. I got to school and the lesson began. On Wednesdays we do social studies, today we talked about President’s day.
On our little newspaper the proud picture of Abe Lincoln and George Washington looked solemnly at the kids while Mrs. First Grade went over why they were so memorable.
She asked if everyone knew why Washington was popular and a flurry of little hands went into the air ready with the answer. Then she asked why Abe Lincoln was a memorable president and less hands shot into the air and it was mainly suggested that he may have been another “cool-number” president. We established that while sixteen wasn’t a very cool number, we remembered Lincoln because of what he did, not because of his place on the presidents list.
I looked around uncomfortably and wondered how she was going to explain slavery to a room-full of first graders. Thank God for Mrs. First Grade.
She explained that back in the times of Lincoln they did not have the machines that we have now. That in order for food to be grown and buildings to be built, they needed a lot of people to do the jobs of the machines. She explained that back then some people were brought to the states in order to work in those projects and that they were known as slaves. She told the kids that Mr. Lincoln did not agree with the way the workers of those fields and projects were treated because he believed in the constitution and that he thought EVERYONE was created equal.
I thought she had done fantastically; she had told the kids everything and yet not caused any ripples or questions in their little minds. I congratulated her mentally and admired her style in diplomatically explaining one of the lowest moments in humanity.
Everyone was listening to her talk and you could see that they were listening but that this information did not touch them personally. In an environment where you cannot offend nor defend any position, such as in a school, it is difficult to tip-toe the line.
Considering that we had safely avoided the whole slavery situation I started walking towards the work table to hand out the assignments. As I make my way through the classroom, Mrs. First Grade tells the class, “You know, if it wouldn’t have been for Abe Lincoln, President Obama would never have made it to the White House”
Screeeecchhh!!!! Oh Boy! I thought we were going to leave it alone!
By presenting them with something so relevant, they were forced to think about it and to make the information personal. Well, not many of them said much. I was thanking all the little angels that had helped us avoid that whole conversation, when Mrs. First Grade said, “As a matter of fact boys and girls, if it wasn’t for Abe Lincoln, some of our friends in this class would not be allowed to be here with us.”
Now she had done it.
All of their little faces lit up in attention and she had them all. Even the ones that normally count the tiles on the ceiling were totally focused on her. I could not believe she had brought herself into this conversation, on purpose.
All of my internal bells were going off. This is a danger zone. The chances that you may offend or become politically incorrect are so great; we just avoid the whole field.
Mrs. First Grade had jumped in with both feet.
Unbelievably enough as Mrs. First Grade explained slavery and racism to a room full of six and seven-year-olds, you could see the confusion in their faces, you could see that they could not understand the concept of what she was explaining.
Mrs. First Grade asked everyone to look around and notice the different shades that we all were. There were some African Americans, some Hispanics and the rest were Caucasians. She then asked them to imagine that some of their friends would not be able to join us in the classroom. Everyone looked around, everyone looked at those of us who were darker and one of the little girls shot up her hand and said, “Mrs. First Grader that would hurt our friends’ feelings!!!” Everyone else started saying the same.
My eyes filled with tears, these children do not recognize the basis for racism. They see nothing different in you and me, in the color of our skin, in the accent in our voices. They have been brought up in a world where those differences no longer exist. Racism continues to live in the hearts of the older generations who have been jaded and teach our children to watch out for the man, therefore perpetuating the existence of our greatest foe. Racism is learned.
In the heart of these six year olds, the world is wide and inclusive, it is vast and loving and full of friends. They do not see differences, they see only people….
The bell rings and they get ready to go home. They have completed another day of school, off they go and as they walk away, they say “Bye Mrs. Garlo” and I get 28 hugs good bye. Love is color blind.
On our little newspaper the proud picture of Abe Lincoln and George Washington looked solemnly at the kids while Mrs. First Grade went over why they were so memorable.
She asked if everyone knew why Washington was popular and a flurry of little hands went into the air ready with the answer. Then she asked why Abe Lincoln was a memorable president and less hands shot into the air and it was mainly suggested that he may have been another “cool-number” president. We established that while sixteen wasn’t a very cool number, we remembered Lincoln because of what he did, not because of his place on the presidents list.
I looked around uncomfortably and wondered how she was going to explain slavery to a room-full of first graders. Thank God for Mrs. First Grade.
She explained that back in the times of Lincoln they did not have the machines that we have now. That in order for food to be grown and buildings to be built, they needed a lot of people to do the jobs of the machines. She explained that back then some people were brought to the states in order to work in those projects and that they were known as slaves. She told the kids that Mr. Lincoln did not agree with the way the workers of those fields and projects were treated because he believed in the constitution and that he thought EVERYONE was created equal.
I thought she had done fantastically; she had told the kids everything and yet not caused any ripples or questions in their little minds. I congratulated her mentally and admired her style in diplomatically explaining one of the lowest moments in humanity.
Everyone was listening to her talk and you could see that they were listening but that this information did not touch them personally. In an environment where you cannot offend nor defend any position, such as in a school, it is difficult to tip-toe the line.
Considering that we had safely avoided the whole slavery situation I started walking towards the work table to hand out the assignments. As I make my way through the classroom, Mrs. First Grade tells the class, “You know, if it wouldn’t have been for Abe Lincoln, President Obama would never have made it to the White House”
Screeeecchhh!!!! Oh Boy! I thought we were going to leave it alone!
By presenting them with something so relevant, they were forced to think about it and to make the information personal. Well, not many of them said much. I was thanking all the little angels that had helped us avoid that whole conversation, when Mrs. First Grade said, “As a matter of fact boys and girls, if it wasn’t for Abe Lincoln, some of our friends in this class would not be allowed to be here with us.”
Now she had done it.
All of their little faces lit up in attention and she had them all. Even the ones that normally count the tiles on the ceiling were totally focused on her. I could not believe she had brought herself into this conversation, on purpose.
All of my internal bells were going off. This is a danger zone. The chances that you may offend or become politically incorrect are so great; we just avoid the whole field.
Mrs. First Grade had jumped in with both feet.
Unbelievably enough as Mrs. First Grade explained slavery and racism to a room full of six and seven-year-olds, you could see the confusion in their faces, you could see that they could not understand the concept of what she was explaining.
Mrs. First Grade asked everyone to look around and notice the different shades that we all were. There were some African Americans, some Hispanics and the rest were Caucasians. She then asked them to imagine that some of their friends would not be able to join us in the classroom. Everyone looked around, everyone looked at those of us who were darker and one of the little girls shot up her hand and said, “Mrs. First Grader that would hurt our friends’ feelings!!!” Everyone else started saying the same.
My eyes filled with tears, these children do not recognize the basis for racism. They see nothing different in you and me, in the color of our skin, in the accent in our voices. They have been brought up in a world where those differences no longer exist. Racism continues to live in the hearts of the older generations who have been jaded and teach our children to watch out for the man, therefore perpetuating the existence of our greatest foe. Racism is learned.
In the heart of these six year olds, the world is wide and inclusive, it is vast and loving and full of friends. They do not see differences, they see only people….
The bell rings and they get ready to go home. They have completed another day of school, off they go and as they walk away, they say “Bye Mrs. Garlo” and I get 28 hugs good bye. Love is color blind.
A truck driver brought it.....
Hi, my name is Claudia and I am worrier. Yes, I hate to admit it but I worry. A lot.
I worry about the environment and the world we are leaving behind for our children. I worry about the kids and how they are growing up and whether I am doing everything and anything necessary to make sure that they have all the tools they need to be happy. I worry about road conditions and the weather. I worry about my stepson. I worry about my mother. Heck, I even worry about the cats.
But more often than not, I worry the economy. I don’t worry about the economy in the sense that will the markets collapse? Will capitalist life as we know it cease to exist? I worry about whether or not it will be enough; whether I will have enough, whether there will be enough. I know, I know, any good metaphysic student worth their salt would tell you that I am manifesting lack; or any bible reader would tell you that God assures us that all of our needs are met.
But I need more reassurance, so I turn to my husband.
My poor husband.
He does not need to be told what is wrong, he can already tell by the sound of my voice…
~Hi!
~Hi!
~What’s wrong?
~Nothing is wrong, God, just because I call, it doesn’t mean anything is wrong. ~No, I didn’t say anything was wrong because you called; I just meant that there is something wrong because of your tone of voice.
~Oh! Well, yeah, there is something wrong…..
~What is it Claudia?
~Can you say it for me? Please?
~Again??
~Oh come one, pleaasssee?????
~Everything is going to be ok baby.
~Promise?
~Yes, promise….
~What did it this time?? What got you so upset and paranoid?
~I was at the school and there are some kids that are talking about their parents losing their jobs and about them being hungry, it’s scary.
~It will be ok baby, I will keep rolling and we will be ok.
Pheeewww!!!!
I know he can’t guarantee that he will never break his promise. I know that in the unstable times that we live, we are all at the mercy of what happens in our economic market. However, I know for a fact that goods will always have to be moved, taken from the producer to the manufacturer and then to the end consumer. I know that as long as there is production and consumption my husband will have a job. I know this because everything, absolutely everything that you come in contact with everyday has been brought to you by a trucker.
We played this game once. He said name one thing that you use that was not at one point or another in the back of a truck. Me, being the smarty-pants that I usually am, had thought of something way at the beginning of the conversation, because I knew where this was going and I told him my answer, feeling smug that he would not be able to knock it down…..
“The vegetables I buy at the local market!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
He gave me “the look”; I knew I was in trouble….
“What about the seed? Where did the seed come from? What about the soil? What about the tools that you use to work the soil? What about the fertilizer?”
“Uhhhhhhh!!!! Well, there is the sunshine….. “
“Whatever!!” he responded
I knew I had lost this argument…
The seeds, the soil, the fertilizer, the hoe, the farming instruments, all of it. They have all, at one point or another been in the back of a truck.
Take a shovel, for example. The wood is produced somewhere and then processed and shipped to a factory for manufacturing (trip one). Once they are done treating it and shaping it and doing whatever else they have to do to it, it is then shipped to the assembly company where it will meet up with the metal part of it and be put together and tested for quality (trip two). Finally, it will be loaded up for it’s third trip onto a semi and taken to the store where the farmer will pick it up and take it home to air the land to plant the seed that he picked up in the store to give you tasty locally grown veggies and fruits.
OK, ok, so that is not totally accurate, I still have not gotten any calls back from the tractor supply store to ask them where their hoes came from, (don’t think that I will ), but it gives you an idea of how many times a truck driver is involved in the products that touch your life.
The life of a truck driver is not easy. He wakes up, eats, bathes and goes to the bathroom based on the demands placed upon him by his load. He can be out on the road for 2 days, 2 weeks or even 2 months. I know of those road warriors that have no home, other than their truck.
They spend hours away from family and friends delivering the goods that we consume, battling the same traffic that we do, and anticipating the errors of those who underestimate an 80,000 lbs piece of machinery.
However, this they do. They wake up, get their truck in gear and they get to where they need to go and they keep rolling, and they keep moving. There are 3.5 million truck drivers in the US, according to the DOT. These trucks generate an estimated 255 billion dollars of revenue on a yearly basis. Truckers will continue to roll and the products that you expect in your usual stores will continue to show up. Rain, snow, ice, no matter what the weather condition is, a trucker is still expected to roll and roll he will. Next time you see a truck driver roll next to you, wave at him and thank him because he is a sign of a still-alive economy, he is a sign that manufacturing and producing plants are still operating and creating jobs. They are a sign that there is still a demand for products in the stores and retailers will hire and goods will continue being sold.
Thank you baby.
Yeah, I think we will be ok.
I worry about the environment and the world we are leaving behind for our children. I worry about the kids and how they are growing up and whether I am doing everything and anything necessary to make sure that they have all the tools they need to be happy. I worry about road conditions and the weather. I worry about my stepson. I worry about my mother. Heck, I even worry about the cats.
But more often than not, I worry the economy. I don’t worry about the economy in the sense that will the markets collapse? Will capitalist life as we know it cease to exist? I worry about whether or not it will be enough; whether I will have enough, whether there will be enough. I know, I know, any good metaphysic student worth their salt would tell you that I am manifesting lack; or any bible reader would tell you that God assures us that all of our needs are met.
But I need more reassurance, so I turn to my husband.
My poor husband.
He does not need to be told what is wrong, he can already tell by the sound of my voice…
~Hi!
~Hi!
~What’s wrong?
~Nothing is wrong, God, just because I call, it doesn’t mean anything is wrong. ~No, I didn’t say anything was wrong because you called; I just meant that there is something wrong because of your tone of voice.
~Oh! Well, yeah, there is something wrong…..
~What is it Claudia?
~Can you say it for me? Please?
~Again??
~Oh come one, pleaasssee?????
~Everything is going to be ok baby.
~Promise?
~Yes, promise….
~What did it this time?? What got you so upset and paranoid?
~I was at the school and there are some kids that are talking about their parents losing their jobs and about them being hungry, it’s scary.
~It will be ok baby, I will keep rolling and we will be ok.
Pheeewww!!!!
I know he can’t guarantee that he will never break his promise. I know that in the unstable times that we live, we are all at the mercy of what happens in our economic market. However, I know for a fact that goods will always have to be moved, taken from the producer to the manufacturer and then to the end consumer. I know that as long as there is production and consumption my husband will have a job. I know this because everything, absolutely everything that you come in contact with everyday has been brought to you by a trucker.
We played this game once. He said name one thing that you use that was not at one point or another in the back of a truck. Me, being the smarty-pants that I usually am, had thought of something way at the beginning of the conversation, because I knew where this was going and I told him my answer, feeling smug that he would not be able to knock it down…..
“The vegetables I buy at the local market!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
He gave me “the look”; I knew I was in trouble….
“What about the seed? Where did the seed come from? What about the soil? What about the tools that you use to work the soil? What about the fertilizer?”
“Uhhhhhhh!!!! Well, there is the sunshine….. “
“Whatever!!” he responded
I knew I had lost this argument…
The seeds, the soil, the fertilizer, the hoe, the farming instruments, all of it. They have all, at one point or another been in the back of a truck.
Take a shovel, for example. The wood is produced somewhere and then processed and shipped to a factory for manufacturing (trip one). Once they are done treating it and shaping it and doing whatever else they have to do to it, it is then shipped to the assembly company where it will meet up with the metal part of it and be put together and tested for quality (trip two). Finally, it will be loaded up for it’s third trip onto a semi and taken to the store where the farmer will pick it up and take it home to air the land to plant the seed that he picked up in the store to give you tasty locally grown veggies and fruits.
OK, ok, so that is not totally accurate, I still have not gotten any calls back from the tractor supply store to ask them where their hoes came from, (don’t think that I will ), but it gives you an idea of how many times a truck driver is involved in the products that touch your life.
The life of a truck driver is not easy. He wakes up, eats, bathes and goes to the bathroom based on the demands placed upon him by his load. He can be out on the road for 2 days, 2 weeks or even 2 months. I know of those road warriors that have no home, other than their truck.
They spend hours away from family and friends delivering the goods that we consume, battling the same traffic that we do, and anticipating the errors of those who underestimate an 80,000 lbs piece of machinery.
However, this they do. They wake up, get their truck in gear and they get to where they need to go and they keep rolling, and they keep moving. There are 3.5 million truck drivers in the US, according to the DOT. These trucks generate an estimated 255 billion dollars of revenue on a yearly basis. Truckers will continue to roll and the products that you expect in your usual stores will continue to show up. Rain, snow, ice, no matter what the weather condition is, a trucker is still expected to roll and roll he will. Next time you see a truck driver roll next to you, wave at him and thank him because he is a sign of a still-alive economy, he is a sign that manufacturing and producing plants are still operating and creating jobs. They are a sign that there is still a demand for products in the stores and retailers will hire and goods will continue being sold.
Thank you baby.
Yeah, I think we will be ok.
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