Black-eyed Peas

Marty is all about trying new things since he discovered butter beans at Easter dinner. Today at the grocery store he asked if he could try black-eyed peas. Now anytime one of my kids voluntarily asks to try a vegetable I'm all over it, so I grabbed a bag of frozen peas and headed home.

While we were eating I was telling the kids that they were one of my favorite foods (I don't ever cook them because up to now I had no one to share them with), while we were talking a memory that I had tucked away came creeping out. My Nannie used to serve her peas with small slivers of red peppers mixed in - you know the kind that will burn your lips off if you're not careful.

I know it may sound insignificant but it's one of those things I had forgotten about Nannie. When she died I swore I would never forget anything about her. During her many visits we shared a room. She snored so loud that it kept me awake most of the night, of course she said I talked to much she couldn't sleep either. My father was convinced one of us was exaggerating! She taught us songs with bad words and had the craziest sayings you have ever heard (S*&t in one hand and wish in the other and see which fills up first). We used to chase her around the backyard holding a frog, her screaming and laughing all the time.

I adored her.

Tonight my son's dinner request brought back a little piece of a wonderful woman who meant the world to me. The gift of a memory is a rare and wonderful thing, thanks Marty.

I'm not sure if I taught them or they taught me.

Last night I realized that I only have a few more days as a preschool teacher. I have been going to the YMCA for 6 years and have been teaching for the last 4. I never set out to work there, I was asked if I would like to take the job. I never even considered getting a part-time job, I was happy being a stay at home mother. When Sue asked me if I would consider the job, I told her as long as my children came first I would love to do it. She said she wouldn't want it any other way, I guess that's why I have so much respect for her - she and I always put our families first. I didn't even ask her how much it paid, I didn't care.

Of all the places I worked and of all the important jobs I did; I've never had one that was more important to me, that I cared about any more or that I enjoyed working at as much as working at the Preschool. It's a special place; the kids make you laugh, you get paid to read stories and make crafts and you can eat Teddy Grahams for a snack and no one looks at you funny.

I've met a group of wonderful women that I now call friends. We don't fight, bicker, back stab or gossip. We care about each others families, make dinners when there are births and deaths, celebrate each other's birthdays and laugh, we laugh a lot!

My kids (my husband likes to point out that I call them "my kids") are beautiful and each one has their own personal place in my heart. There is nothing sweeter than a little child telling you "I love you" for no other reason than they truly do. I love watching them on the first day not knowing how to walk in a line or wait their turn and then by the end of the year they recognize their written name and can tell you letters, numbers and colors they didn't know before. They still have to be reminded to wait their turn but they are 3 and when you're 3 you are still finding out you are not the center of your universe.

My husband and I made the decision that I would home school next year. And being the person that I am I don't think I can keep up with this house, teach my kids and hold down a part time job. After a lot of soul searching I decided I would not return to the YMCA in the fall. I'm not sure if I'm doing the right thing and maybe I can return the year after but for right now I think it's what I have to do in order to stay sane.

I'm not sure if 10 years from now my kids will remember me but I know for a fact that I'll remember them.