Rainbow Ribbon

Let me be clear...I have an irrational love of ribbons in little girls' hair.

And JoAnn Fabrics feeds my addiction nicely.

We have basketball ribbon and valentine ribbon and Santa Claus ribbon...you get the idea.

Wrapping Caroline's ponytail with a ribbon and sending her off into the world makes me feel like she has a love letter attached...my special version of the kiss-in-the-palm mom love from that adorable book, The Kissing Hand.

And when you're in 3rd grade you're nearing the end of the ribbon-in-the-hair era...although I do have to say that sometimes if you're lucky there can be a bit of a resurgence in junior high or even high school for a brief moment.

Anyway, I fixed her hair into our usual tiny braid and then ponytail combo and placed my 

Rainbow Ribbon...my heart was happy.

I kissed her good-bye at school and whispered my 2015 words of wisdom to her, "Remember Caroline, "no matter how small", remember it, find a way to do it. Make it a great day. I love you."

No matter how small.

Based on this quote...and the truth of it.

So I sent her off.
To her little school...with her cousins and friends...saying The Pledge of Allegiance...
working on multiplication (we're struggling with our 4's)...
reading and thinking and learning and navigating our world.

Only to receive an email at noon that let me know her school was locked down.
Everyone was safe I assured.

Why?

Agonizing minutes later it was revealed via social media that a bomb threat had been made to another local elementary school that was very very close to Caroline's school.

A bomb threat?
To an elementary school?

Those 4 times tables are really bugging you??

What on earth?

Now I am a teacher and I did live through lockdowns at my old school...but we worked near a prison where prisoners escaped and where helicopters searched and well, it (kind of) made sense.
And that was WAY before social media and seeing things unfold in real time.

Our parents often didn't know a lockdown occurred at all.

In 2015, I was part of a group text almost immediately.
Scared parents were sharing information.
Reassuring each other.
It was beautiful.
And awful.

I just wanted my Rainbow Ribboned Girlie next to me.
So did everyone else.

I received this email from Caroline's teacher...the whole class did...in the middle of the lockdown...

"I just wanted to let you all know that we are doing very well and are safe in our classroom. The students are aware that something is wrong in the community and that they are in the safest place, besides their own homes, they can be. This morning, we conducted science experiments which included ice cream, marshmallows, fruit loops, chocolate, graham crackers and much more so, along with their lunches, we have plenty to eat! We will continue to reassure them and keep the afternoon fun."

***** 

I know I've said it before but
TEACHERS ARE HEROES

This teacher might have been feeling just a little bit of concern for her own two children...
but we didn't know it.

I got tears in my eyes.

To be so brave.
So kind.
So loving.
So focused.
In the middle of confusion and uncertainty...
honestly, there is no other word other than hero.

The other elementary school was evacuated in less than 30 minutes time.
Lunch was provided by local high school students
and teachers and anybody else who could pitch in.
Those teachers tried to keep a sense of calm and security and safety outside...
in a park...with a bomb squad checking out their school.
MORE HEROES. MORE AND MORE.

So if you haven't stopped and thanked a teacher lately...you might want to do just that...
or a principal, or a school secretary, or a janitor, or a lunch lady, or in our case, the lunch guy.

YOU, my friends, are the real deal.
Made of the right stuff.
Living examples of what we hope our kids might be when they grow up.

Thank you.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your cool heads, your big hearts and your courage.

"No matter how small" turned into "no matter how BIG" on Thursday.

The Egg and The Thank You

So a few weeks ago I was on the phone with my husband at midnight and I heard a loud knock on the door.

I asked my husband to wait and I went to the door.

My dog was growling -- a low, guttural sound that he rarely makes.

Awesome.

The dog is freaked out.

I opened the door, stepped outside and saw nothing out of the ordinary.

I asked into the darkness if anyone was there.

It was quiet.

Buddy was still not quite right and about 20 minutes later I opened the door again to prove to him things were okay.

He sniffed around, marked his territory and settled back into his nighttime sleepy fluffball position.

I didn't think about it until the next day.

I went upstairs to open up the windows to let in the cool morning air before the heat of summer pressed in...

and I saw it.

An egg smashed on my window.

I opened the window and looked around.

Suddenly I'm Sherlock.

I search every other window in my house.

I patrol outside.

I'm convinced I've been egged by haters.

But why?

What's controversial?

What have I done that would need an egg punishment?

I thought perhaps Mary Kate had said something at her work.

Could Patrick have bothered someone?

Who throws an egg at someone's house?

I know it sounds silly, but I spent my day obsessing on the egg.

I felt bruised.

Embarrassed.

Guilty.

Dirty.

Ugly.

Ashamed.

Like I had done something wrong.

Like someone I loved had done something to deserve it.

John blew it off as a kid-thing.

He's so much better at being drama-free.

It was a summer day -- and the school-is-happening-soon clock was ticking.

I knew I needed to break out of my funk.

I did the take-the-dog-for-a-walk-and-ignore-it thing...

this tactic is very effective.

Until you get home...and see bits of egg shell mocking you on your roof.

I couldn't shake it.

Through lunch, grocery shopping, normal summer fun with the kids and even through dinner.

I had egg on my face.

Finally, it was time to walk Buddy again.

I asked Caroline to come along (to cheer me up) 

and with a dog on a leash and a kid holding my hand I was ready to face the mean old world.

I had my armor on after all.

I got to the end of my walkway and stopped.

Someone, a stranger, had taken the time to draw three chalk flowers next to Caroline's big flower on the sidewalk and next to those three flowers the words: thank you.

I was floored.

Who could that be?

I hadn't revealed my egg shame to anyone.

No one was around.

Those flowers weren't there this morning.

Where had they come from?

It actually didn't matter.

It was my chance to exhale...for the first time all day.

I just stared at those flowers and smiled...a really big, goofy smile.

A tiny act of kindness.

The tiniest.

Three flowers and a thanks washed away that gooey egg -- a sprinkle of goodness 

straight from the universe.

So tonight I'm grateful for the smallest of things, the "everyday deeds of ordinary folk"...

they do, indeed, keep the darkness at bay.

Your job tomorrow: do a small thing.

One simple act of kindness and love.

It's so fun to consider...so many options.

Go ahead.

I double dog dare you.

Sprinkle the world with some love.

We all need it.

You never know what you might wash away.