The Auntie Diaries: Happy Birth Day, Aiden!

On By Alicia McCauleyIn LettersLeave a comment

Dear Aiden,

It’s your Birth Day today.  For reasons beyond my understanding this is not technically your “first birthday”.  Even though it really is.  You were born on the most perfect day.  At around one in the morning your dad sent me a message saying they were on the way to the hospital because you were finally ready to see the world.

I got the message from your daddy and probably responded with a “afhoighyerhjans” because I am always very coherent in the wee hours of the morning.  What I meant by “afhoighyerhjans” is that I said a prayer for you to begin your life happy and healthy.  I laid awake breathing in the scent of summer rain.  I wondered when you would take your first breath.  I wondered if you’d be lucky enough to catch the same scent of rain.  All night long I awoke to the steady tap of rain dripping from gutters.  Each time, I checked to see if there was a message proclaiming your arrival.  The veil of night gave way to morning sun and the rain slowed to a mist.

At 6:59 am, your mom ushered you into the world.  Your daddy called me a little while later to tell me you were healthy and that your mommy birthed you naturally.  She is a strong woman, your mom, a fact you will surely appreciate many times in your life.

I came to meet you this afternoon.  You were asleep and kept flinging your blanket off.  Swaddling is not for you, almost like you’ve been cooped up too long and just want to stretch out.  Your mom wasn’t wearing a stitch of make-up and her hair was pulled up with curls escaping here and there.  She looked beautiful and happy with you by her side.

You are surrounded by people who love you and I thought I’d give you a heads up on some of us.  Your daddy knows everything about cars and will teach you as you grow up.  Your mommy is selfless, always putting her family before herself.  Your brother is awesome at kicking a soccer ball and I imagine the two of you playing many games together.  In case you need a laugh, your brother does a side-splitting impression of a duck.

Your Uncle Terry knows everything about sports.  He is convinced kids don’t like him, but you two will get along perfectly, especially if you root for the Chargers.  As for me, I love to read and write.  You’ll live among piles of books upon books upon books.  When you’re a little bigger we will go to the park to look at bugs, dig in the dirt, zip down the slide, and talk about all the things we see.

It’s going to be a great life, Aiden, full of joy, full of love.  Happy Birth Day, sweet nephew of mine.

Love,

Auntie Alicia

Robot Teacher

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Teacher Tales2 Comments

Years ago when my little heart was all aflutter, and not in the good way, I had to wear a heart monitor to school.  I did my best to cover up all the receptors stickied to my chest, but the wires hanging down from the monitor were harder to keep tucked away.  I didn’t want to alarm my little students, so I went about the day teaching while my heart ticked away on the monitor.  A couple of kids noticed the wires and asked what they were.  I pacified them with simple answers like “wires” or “oh, nothing” and kept on teaching.  These dismissive answers did not satisfy Ethan.

Ethan was a stick of a boy with a heart of gold.  He was quiet and thought carefully before he spoke.  In a small voice he questioned what the inside of a chrysalis looked like when a caterpillar is becoming a butterfly.  Another day he asked me how much gravity weighed.  He was the kind of kid who lost a tooth and then looked at it through a magnifying glass to see what teeth were made of.  So, when he saw wires sticking out from under my shirt, our conversation went something like this:

“Mrs. McCauley, what are those?”

“Wires.”

“Wires to what?”

“Ethan, it’s really nothing.”

“Wires don’t usually go to nothing.  What do they connect to?”

“Can we talk about this later, Ethan?”

I’d hoped he’d forget all about it, but, no, not Ethan.  Later that day, as I crouched down, helping another student, Ethan sidled up next to me, fingering the wires.  He gave them a gentle tug and was shocked to discover they were attached to me.  I didn’t say a word, smiling because I could see his wheels turning.

The next morning as I prepared for the day in the quiet of the classroom Ethan arrived insistent on knowing what these wires were for.

“Mrs. McCauley, what are those wires?  Where do they go?”

Here’s where I got creative and cemented this kid’s future need for therapy.

“Well, Ethan, I’m a robot and my wires are coming loose.  I have to go in to get repaired.”

“You’re not a robot…are you?”

Leaning down so we were face to face, in my most staccato robot voice, I replied

“I am robot 413 in need of repair.  Do you have any tools?”

Ethan stared at me wide-eyed, jaw agape.  Other students filed in, ending our conversation.  As the day went on, I answered all of Ethan’s questions in a quiet robotic tone.

As the last kid hurried out the door, I dialed Ethan’s mom.  I explained the real reason for the monitor and then told her about the joke I’d played on Ethan.  Her sense of humor was as twisted as mine and, to my delight, she played along!  The rest of my conversations with Ethan that year were peppered with robot talk and more than once I saw Ethan checking for loose wires.

Today I sat in the cardiologist’s office, dismayed to be on this road again.  Dismayed to add another EKG to the stack.  Dismayed at the idea of going on heart medication again.  Dismayed at the fact that I have to wear a heart monitor for a couple of days.  Terry, always trying to make me feel better, halted my grumblings by pointing out one bright spot.

“Well, at least you might get to convince another kid you’re a robot.”

Tick, Pause, Tick, Tick Pause, Ticktickticky

On By Alicia McCauleyIn The Junk Drawer2 Comments

I hate the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop.  When I was a naughty kid, I dreaded my dad uttering those terrible words “Just wait until your mother gets home.”  Waiting is the worst, especially when you know that what is waiting for you is BAD.

I am currently in a nasty waiting game.  My heart has been all jumpy, and stoppy, and generally not good.  My little ticker is doing some sort of rhumba that makes me sweat profusely at the drop of a hat, makes my left arm simultaneously achy and prickly with pins and needles, and causes me to be tired almost all of the time.  Not to mention the whole inconvenience of constantly dropping stuff because I lose feeling in my left hand.

As much as I don’t like it As much as it scares me, I made the dreaded call to my cardiologist.  I hate the fact that I’m 32 and have had a cardiologist for many years now.  I hate that when I called, the receptionist knew exactly who I was.  I hate that I had to tell my principal about what’s going on because I don’t like being weak.  I hate that when I fill out my emergency card every year, I practically write a book under “in case of emergency”.

But most of all I hate waiting.

My appointment is Wednesday afternoon.  Questions swim in my head.  What’s wrong this time?  How many EKG’s will I have to do?  Will I have to wear a monitor to school?  Will I have to carry one in my purse?  What does this mean for bike riding? And the worst one yet: Will I need surgery again?

I know the Bible tells me to be anxious for nothing.  And I’m trying.  I really am.  But if I’m being straight with God and myself, I’m anxious.  If I strip it bare, I’m afraid.  Really afraid.  I’m waiting for Wednesday and right now Wednesday feels very far away.

Death By Chocolate Cake

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Bike AdventuresLeave a comment

I haven’t ridden my bike in almost two weeks.  I have a litany of excuses related but not limited to a pencil stabbing and birthday cake.

I am exhausted from the first week of school.  This week is usually completely tiring, even when all goes well.

All did not go well.

In the span of one week my precious students dealt me 2 bouts of vomit, 1 rush of pee on the playground, 1 pencil stabbing, 1 punch in the face, and a long string of profanity.

I’m going to have to dig down deep this year.

My body tends to tell me when it’s time to rest by getting sick.  I woke up Saturday with a bit of a stomach bug.  I laid on the couch and watched a lot of bad tv.  Sunday I woke up with fever aches, but by Sunday afternoon I was feeling well enough to go to the grocery store.

My step-dad, Chris, has been taking amazing care of my mom as she recovers from eye surgery.  Sunday was his birthday and I wanted to do something nice.  Since I love my step-dad, I didn’t bake for him.  No, I bought him a shimmering quadruple chocolate monstrosity of a cake.

As I carried the cake and an armload of groceries from the car to the house, I noticed that the washing machine had leaked all over the garage for the second time that weekend.  I stepped carefully because flip-flops do not have the greatest traction.  I’d almost made it to the door when my feet slipped.  I held the cake aloft.  Oh no, oh no, please don’t let me ruin the cake.  Wait, please don’t let me hit my head or ruin the cake.  No, wait, please don’t let me hit my head, rip the seat of my pants or ruin the cake. With a thud and a weird “Oof” of air, I landed squarely on my tailbone.  Pain shot up my back.  I cringed.  What about the cake?  What about the cake?

I peeked in the bag and to my great relief the cake stared back at me in perfect condition.  It’s all about priorities, people.  

Tailbones heal.  Cake does not.

And so there it is, my list of excuses as to why The Rocket is in the garage, stewing with Frank.  That’s never good.  I’ll ride soon and I hope that when I do, The Rocket will forgive me without demanding penance for my inactivity or for the divine piece of chocolate cake I inhaled.

Crooked-Mouthed Kitty

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Teacher Tales2 Comments

Friday afternoon I opened my classroom to my incoming students and their parents.  I met 16 of my new families and am touched by the fact that they took time out of their day to stop in.

A few minutes into the meet and greet one of my little girls reached in her pocket and pulled out a kitty cat face made of beads.  She said “I made it for you.  Its mouth is crooked.”  I smiled and replied “I like it better that way.”

And it’s true, I do like it better that way.  The lopsided grin gives this cat a mischievous look, like it just swallowed a bird.  (And you know I like anything that eats birds!)  I put a magnet on the back of the kitty face and stuck it on my filing cabinet where the girl is sure to notice it Monday morning.

I couldn’t get this little cat face out of my mind all weekend.  I’m not really a cat person, so it took me awhile to figure out why this plastic kitty was stuck in my head.  Then it hit me-it’s not perfect.  The imperfection is what makes it interesting, quirky even.  The juxtaposition of the otherwise cheery cat with a big smirk amuses me.

The same is true for my students.  The little things that make them unique are the things I treasure the most.  The kid who accidentally cut my hair, the kid who fell out of his chair more times than either of us could count, even the kid who shouted out curse words when he was excited-all of them hold a place in my heart because they weren’t perfect.  They were delightfully unique.

Tomorrow, with a stomach of butterflies, I’ll begin a new year of teaching.  A new year of learning from my students.  A new year of learning about them, finding out what it is that makes them inimitable.  Every now and then I’ll catch a glimpse of my precious crooked-mouthed kitty and I’ll smirk right back, happy with the knowledge that imperfection is a wonderful thing.