A key emergency turns into a learning experience

The scariest moment of motherhood (so far) happened to me last Friday. I should preface this by saying in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that bad and for that I'm counting my blessings. But the experience left me shaken and a little wiser — it was an exercise in learning to ask for and graciously receive help.


Our morning routine varies little from day to day. Jim gets ready and leaves for school while I get Evangeline ready to go to the babysitter's. After breakfast, I buckled her into her car seat and turned on the car to warm it up while I scraped the ice off the windows. As I closed the door, I had that horrible realization that something was not right. It's kind of like the feeling at the top of a roller coaster: You know you're going to be hurtled downward at ferocious velocities and there's nothing you can do to stop it. 


You guessed it: The car was locked, running, with my daughter buckled in the back seat. And of course, my purse, cell phone and house keys were sitting on the passenger seat where I'd tossed them. 


There is possibly no worse feeling for a mother than to see her child, yet not be able to reach her. Evangeline, of course, didn't know what was happening, but after a few minutes of watching me tug futilely on the door, she started to fuss. That's when my brain switched from "OK, maybe I can handle this on my own" to "I need help — and I need it NOW."


I briefly considered breaking into the car (disregarding this quickly because I didn't want to injure Evangeline in any way) and breaking into the house to get the spare set of car keys (disregarding this because I figured there HAD to be a better way.)


And there was. I walked across the street and knocked on our neighbors' door. They're a couple a few years older than us and have two young sons. We're friendly with them but with our busy schedules, we don't interact very much. 


My mom talks often about "God things" — life moments that can only be explained by God's grace — and this was one of them. Both our neighbors were home; their oldest son didn't have school that day and so the family was having a relaxing day in. I asked to borrow their phone and left a message at school for Jim. Once they found out what was going on, they immediately offered to drive out to school (eight miles into the country) to get a house key for me. Since they were both home, one parent could stay with the boys, relieving the burden of hauling sleepy children on an errand of mercy. My initial impulse was to refuse politely, but I knew I couldn't depend on Jim hearing the message anytime soon and I had to think of Evangeline. 


Putting aside the mindset of self-sufficiency that's bred into every Nebraskan, I accepted their kind offer and went back to keep Evangeline company. I did everything I could think of to distract her (and myself): Singing "Itsy Bitsy Spider," playing peek-a-boo, making silly faces. 


It seemed like forever, though in reality it was only 20 minutes, before our neighbor pulled up with our house key. Jim had heard the message and had been on his way home when she arrived at school, so the hand-off was very quick. She kept Evangeline company while I ran (and this six-month-pregnant mama does NOT run) into the house to get the extra keys. 


After thanking her profusely, I drove Evangeline to her babysitter's, then pulled into a parking lot to call Jim and update him. That's when I lost it, tears running down my face, pent-up adrenaline pumping through my veins, hands shaking and muscles aching from the effort of trying to pry open a locked car door. Jim listened and reassured me that, no, I wasn't a horrible mother and yes, it was OK and normal to feel this way. He urged me to take the morning off, to take Evangeline home and cuddle for a while, because, as he put it, it's OK to take care of yourself.


I didn't want to do that; all I wanted was to get on with my day and forget that helpless feeling I'd experienced. But I knew I wouldn't be worth a thing at work, what with the shaking and the crying, and really, what I needed was to spend time with my baby. So I called my office and told them I wouldn't be in right away, then circled back to pick up Evangeline, hoping her babysitter didn't think my behavior was too strange. 


We spent the rest of the morning attached at the hip, literally, as that's the only way I can carry her anymore. We watched a little TV and by the time I could watch dog food commercials without bawling, I figured I was back to normal. The rest of the day passed without incident, though I didn't let my spare set of car keys out of my sight.


I know there are far more frightening things in store for me as a mother (ever read the book Queen Bees and Wannabes? Yikes!) but to date, this was the most harrowing experience I've had. But, as my mother's daughter, I can't let it pass without turning it into a teachable moment for myself. Here's what I learned:


• Have support systems in place. I am so thankful my neighbors are good, helpful, reliable people and I know I can count on them in the future. 
• Have a back-up plan. I will definitely keep a spare key in a more accessible location than inside my locked house.
• Don't be afraid to ask for help. This is extremely hard for me to do, but after this, I know it won't kill me to rely on someone else if I need them.
• Don't panic ... at least not while your kid can see. Even though Evangeline didn't really know what was going on, she can sense when I'm stressed. For her sake, I'm glad I held it together (mostly) so she didn't worry.
• Acknowledge your emotions and DEAL WITH THEM. My instinct was to bury what I felt and/or to blame myself for being less than perfect. Well, you know what, self? I'm not perfect and I'm not in control. Those aren't comfortable thoughts for me to process but in order to be a healthy person, they must be processed. For me, that meant cuddling with Evangeline and watching something funny on TV. (Also, chocolate.)


And finally, the most important lesson is:
• Trust God. Things like this remind me that, no matter how confident I feel some days, I'm still not in control. But God is, and He has promised to work for the good of those who love Him. 


I know I'm not the only mother who has had a key emergency. Have you had a similar experience? How did you handle it? 

The newest addition to our family is furry

Beckett

Before last week, I thought our little geekling due at the end of May would be the newest addition to our family.

I was wrong.

A while back, Jim mentioned a black kitten that had been dropped off at Zion St. John. It was friendly, he said, and really good with the students. He was tempted to bring it home, but since we already have two cats, a toddler and a baby on the way, we figured it was better to let kitty roam.

Beware the tender heart — it will lead you down the path to becoming a crazy cat lady.

Then last Tuesday, Jim sent me a text asking “Do you want another cat?” By then, we’d heard the predictions for heavy snowfall over the weekend and I couldn’t stand the thought of that sweet kitty freezing to death in a country ditch.

“Yes,” I texted back. I made an appointment with the vet for later that afternoon. Despite the rational side of my brain thinking “Three cats? Really? Who needs three cats?” I was excited to meet our new kitten.

Bad news comes via text message.

“I let the cat out to use the bathroom and it didn’t come back,” Jim texted a while later. “Not sure if it’s gone.”

Disappointed, I canceled the appointment with Reb and went home to pay attention to Winston and Rosie.

Early Thursday morning, Jim called me at home — the kitten was back and if we wanted it, I needed to come get it now.

Evangeline and I were immediately enchanted with the six-month-old kitten we named Beckett. After receiving a clean bill of health from Reb, we took him home to meet Winston and Rosie.

After the requisite amount of hissing and pouting, the older cats accepted Beckett ... or at least tolerate his presence.

My uncle once told me one child takes all your time and money — so you might as well have a few more to keep her company.

I’m discovering it’s not so very different with cats, either.

On the Lighter Side

Published Feb. 8, 2012

Objectivity shouldn’t come at expense of reader interaction

Another of my newspaper columns and a disclaimer: If you're not affiliated with the newspaper industry or live in my corner of Northeast Nebraska, this probably won't be the most interesting ever. But if you are a consumer of local news in any form, it might be worth a read just to know what happens on the other side of the broadsheet.

I'm sure there are soulless, morality-free journalists out there. 

I just don't know any of them.

Here at the Wisner News-Chronicle, we just sent off our entries for the Nebraska Press Association’s 2011 Better Newspaper Contest.

The contest challenges Nebraska newspapers of all sizes to enter their best work from the previous year. Organized newsrooms keep a running record of photos, features, layouts and special sections they feel are worthy to be entered. That is not the procedure here — which isn’t to say we’re not organized, for the record. We just have a different method.

Jeff, Jamie, Marilyn, Elaine and I spend a few weeks in January poring over the past 52 newspapers. I don’t quite know how to describe the feeling that comes from reviewing the body of a year’s work — it’s equal parts surprising and mortifying. It’s surprising because often I’ve forgotten what we’ve covered; it’s kind of like finding a extra $5 in a coat pocket. It’s mortifying because you see precisely what you should have done better ... and didn’t.
 the bane of a newspaper’s existence: Every mistake or poorly designed page doesn’t go away. It’s printed in black and white and impossible to ignore.

But we’ve come a long way, design-wise. It was almost a year ago when we switched over to the redesign, which included new body copy, headline fonts and fresh take on our front page flag. It’s made life much easier from a page layout standpoint, and I hope it’s been a positive change for our readers, too.

So every year after our entries are on their way to Lincoln for judging, I resolve to make our upcoming newspapers the best I can.

At my first newspaper job, a colleague told me the reason contests exist is so reporters, photographers and designers can get affirmation from their peers. To receive praise from your readership is, in a sense, to relinquish the objectivity necessary for producing unbiased news.

I’ve revised my views on that sentiment since working at the News-Chronicle. Certainly we want to be objective, but I don’t think it needs to come at the expense of reader interaction.

I like hearing how people react to our newspaper — what they like, what they don’t, their suggestions for stories we could cover. It is, after all, the readers who are the reason we produce a newspaper each week. There is nothing more affirming than to hear people can’t wait to open their News-Chronicle each week — that they feel out of the loop if they don’t read it.

Newspaper contests give us a chance to reflect and review, to reevaluate and renew our vision for the coming year.
But we don’t write to win contest awards. We write, photograph and design for you, our readers.

Look! I was a winner, that one time!

On the Lighter Side

Published February 1, 2012

A motto for mothers

Evangeline, 15 months

Last Sunday in church, I had a glimpse of what my daughter will look like when she's grown up. Newsflash: She is going to be completely gorgeous. 

I know, I know — it's so typical for mothers to believe their children are the smartest, the cutest, the most talented. You know why? Because each child, to her mother, is. We always like to hear compliments about our children from other people, certainly, but deep down, we know it instinctively. 

I didn't understand that kind of love before I became a mother. I knew my mom loved me, inexplicably sometimes, especially during my difficult high school days. But I didn't understand how strong it is, how deeply-rooted and insistent it is. How wonderful and bittersweet it is.

There is nothing more limitless than my daughter's potential right now. She could be anything, do anything, go anywhere — her future is wide-open and full of possibilities. It would be so easy to be intimidated by that and give into the fear that if I'm somehow lacking as a mother, her life will be destroyed. Instead, I'm humbled by incredible honor it is to shape a young person ... and fortified in the belief that, with the grace of God, I can help to make Evangeline's life be one of purpose and faith.

Even on the days when she's pushed me to my limit — and believe me, there's a lot of mischief behind that little grin — I'm always a bit sad to put her into bed at night. I'd be hard-pressed to pick out a favorite time with her, but snuggling right before bedtime has to be up there on the list. She is so active during the day, it's a treat to feel her little limbs relax and watch her long eyelashes droop onto her cheeks. 


If I could prolong these sweet days when my girl is little, I would. Simultaneously, I wouldn't, because I am so excited to see what kind of a person she will grow up to be. It's times like this when it would be handy to have a TARDIS. Since I don't, I fall back on the saying that's become my motherhood motto: 

Enjoy each day for the joys it brings. Don't wish the time away and don't regret what's already passed. Look forward to what lies ahead.

No excuse for not passing it on

I will be completely honest: When Peggy Liermann asked me over a year ago to consider becoming a TeamMates mentor, I was hesitant. With a baby due in October, I didn’t see how fitting an hour every week for mentoring would work in my schedule. So I told her to ask me in a year, figuring that if she was anything like me, it would be forgotten in the bustle of daily life.

Fortunately, Peggy is not me. Sure enough, last August she approached me again and this time, I knew there was no excuse.

A background check, a couple of hours of training and an overview of the TeamMates mentoring program — founded in 1991 by Tom and Nancy Osborne to provide support and encouragement to school-aged youth — and I was ready to meet my mentee.

Here’s what I’ve discovered in my first semester of mentoring: It’s fun. It’s rewarding. It’s much less of a time commitment than I anticipated. The hour I spend with my student passes more quickly than any other hour in the week. We talk, write and she beats me at Yahtzee nearly every game.

January is National Mentoring Month and Jan. 26 has been designated as “Thank Your Mentor Day.”

I’ve been blessed to have several excellent mentors in my life, people who took an interest in my passions and nurtured me in the pursuit of them. Without them, I don’t know that I’d be doing what I am today, and I am thankful for their positive influences.

There are two ways to honor your mentor: 1) Contact your mentor to express your appreciation and 2) Pass it on by becoming a mentor to a young person in your community.

I don’t meet with my mentors for an hour every week — in fact, it’s been years since I’ve seen most of them. But they’re never far from my thoughts, especially on the days when I serve as a mentor.

Mentoring isn’t about perfection or solving every problem. It’s about encouragement and support, building a relationship with youth to give them a sense of purpose and hope.

It’s about passing it on.

On the Lighter Side

Published January 25, 2012

A tale of two searches

I started this blog five years ago as I sat in a cold and lonely hallway, waiting for EPS school board members to emerge from executive session about their search for a superintendent and tell me "No comment." It was not the best time of my life. 

But it got better and now I'm covering another superintendent search, this time with much less hallway-sitting and futile phone-calling. Comparing the two districts may be comparing apples and oranges — virtually everything about them, from size to student demographic, is different — and yet I was struck by how much more efficiently and openly this search has been conducted. 

Not everyone is passionate about education politics. I honestly can't say I am, either. But as a tax-paying citizen, I appreciate that our school board members are being accountable to the district's patrons by willingly sharing information with local media (i.e., me). 

In a political climate where most elected officials are notorious for spin and secrecy, it's refreshing to encounter an example of precisely the opposite.

Transparency is a valuable quality in superintendent search

Wisner-Pilger’s superintendent search is not the first one I’ve ever covered.

When I moved to Enid, OK, five years ago, the city’s largest school district was preparing to start a search of their own. As the education beat reporter, it was my job to let our readers know how the process worked, who was involved and how close the school board was to finding a new superintendent.

During my first week on the job, as the newspaper’s editors explained what they wanted, it didn’t seem like an insurmountable task. Go to a few meetings, talk to some people, write it up — all that I could do.

However, I quickly discovered it wasn’t as simple as I’d hoped.

One problem was the fact that the search committee was extremely reluctant to speak with anyone outside their group. That most definitely included a newspaper reporter.

At least one night a week, I’d camp outside a closed-door meeting, waiting for hours to see if anyone would emerge with information to share with me. Sometimes all I needed was a simple “no comment,” but even that was hard-won.

Eventually, the committee began meeting at country clubs outside of town, changing their meeting locations and times. Each time, I’d be dispatched to wait, to pester, to glean whatever scraps of information I could.

One point the committee was especially close-lipped about were who potential superintendent candidates were. At one point, my editor told me to identify where vehicles in the parking lot came from; an impossible task, as Oklahoma license plates are alpha-numerical instead of labeled by county like they are in Nebraska.

I hated it so much. Instead of doing what I thought I’d be hired to do, I was venturing uncomfortably close to tabloid territory. I sympathized with the search committee members; I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to be peppered with questions about an issue I didn’t want to discuss.

Mostly, though, I felt sorry for the patrons of the district who were being kept in the dark, despite my best efforts to do otherwise.

Happily, Wisner-Pilger’s superintendent search is less fraught with secrecy. The search committee has been helpful and forthright, willing to answer questions and share information. As a reporter and as a district taxpayer, I know precisely how valuable that transparency is.

This isn’t my first superintendent search. But it’s the first one that’s not a nightmare to cover.

On the Lighter Side

Published January 18, 2012

Love is weird

Lily and Kathryn, I'm probably going to use this quote at both of your weddings. 

Just so you know ...

"We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love."

Theodor Geisel (Dr. Seuss)

There is a lid for every pot. My lid's name is Jim. I'm awfully fond of him.