Approaching Acceptance

This evening I cried. Tears of what? I'm not sure. Acceptance? Resolve? Fear? Dunno. The discussion started, asking B.B. what his cap is for crumb snatchers when his time comes around. My number, once upon a time, was 6. For some reason I've always loved the number & figured it was a good number for children as well. Since then life, circumstances, & personal missions have rounded the number off at a cool hole from my own non-existent womb. Aside from my daughter from another mother, Miss September--no Rosie O'Donnell, I actually do have a GANG of children.

Committing my life to children feels like breathing--requires no thought. It simply is who I am. At the same time, it's soooooooooooooooo heavy at times. I often feel fairly safe in saying that I can't have them myself because my mission would involve more than I could ever fit in my home, preventing the ones in my home from being neglected because my time is beyond split. *breathe* On most days ending in d-a-y I'm good with that. Every now & again, though, it feels like a life sentence.

Then I came home.

It's Teacher Appreciation Week & despite the fact that many of us got kicked in the ass by a club foot today, promising the anticipation of more rape & pillage of my spirit & sanity, there was a ray of sunshine. Children have been giving me cards all day & I haven't had a moment to read any of them due to the ridiculous laundry list of responsibilities expected to be accomplished today alone. I got home & put my things away & emptied my bag, preparing to settle in to laugh at forced expressions from children whose parents said, "you better give those teachers a card or something..." Most were just that, forced thank yous from children who hadn't considered the need to thank people who're just s'posed to be there anyway. Two stood out in the crowd of generic feigned appreciation (typed word for word):

We know we make you laugh and work your nerves, but know one can compete with you because you keep it real, cool, fun, funny and beautiful. Also you make your work hard to prepare us for 7th grade. Also I love you as my favorite teacher because we have the same name ___________.

She still hasn't learned not to begin her sentences with "also" but the message isn't lost on me. Then I found this & remembered my passion felt solid...

Dear Ms._________,
You are the Best teacher EVER!! I apreciate everything you have done for me. Thank you so much for helping me feel better about my Great Grand mother and writing a letter. I hope that I can do something with. You are the kind of teacher I like. You are real, not fake,
-cool, understanding
-a good teacher and writer
-a good listener
-tell the truth
-always listens to what you have to say
I dont' wanna cry. (But I am) I am going to miss you so much next year. And you have helped me find who I am. You are amazing and Thank-you so much.

Love,

________________

I had NO idea I'd done so much for her, have rarely even received signs that she's interested in anyone but the 3 other girls she pals around with. Neither of these girls is 1 of the 1's in my face to tell me EH VER REE THANG on a daily basis or finding excuses to be in my room. These 2 are secure & mostly well-adjusted; in other words, not needy. It's nice to know that even the 1's that don't seem to need me (& that's OK, trust) find value in what I do & how I do it. So...I'm putting this here so that when I need to, when I feel like that club foot is comin' for me again, I have a reminder that the people I do this for actually get it.

No children have been in my "tummy" but my heart is full with them.
Now...to go write thank you cards to them for thinking of me.

Watch me move.