So this is how a heart breaks?

Upstairs there is a little boy clutching a Santa Claus that a stranger gave him tonight at Dollywood.  He's fast asleep dreaming of Woody and Buzz and ice cream, I'm sure.  Every night he asks me to come up and "take a little nap with him" after his Daddy finishes the bedtime ritual of teeth, story, prayers, songs, and bed.  Sometimes I want to scream when he asks because it will have been a long day and my mommy role is all tapped out.  But most of the time I go.  It has become a bit of a routine where I go up there, slip my hand in his, and begin talking to God. 

As we drove home tonight, I began to feel a hint of panic mixed with a lot of sad.  I have written about this before, but I think it is even more pronounced lately.  Kai is growing up.  He's moving away already.  Just the other day he ditched his dad at the park when he thought he had a shot of playing with another kid.  But it's more than that.  More than ever recently, when I am up there at night, I spend my time begging God to allow things to stay the same for just a little while longer.  Not just with Kai but across the board.  It feels like life is so uncertain, and when it comes to Kai, I almost can't breathe to think of the effect bad things could have on him.  Beyond that, maybe it just feels like things are a little too good to be true.  I am in a near constant state of waiting for the other shoe to drop since Cade died, I guess.  Perhaps that is one of those lingering effects.  Either way, I am sure God is a little overwhelmed by a mom spending her nights from 9-9:30 arguing for the chance to do what it takes so things can just remain the way they are. 

On the way home from Dollywood, we stopped for ice cream at the McDonald's drive thru to fulfill a little boy's dream.  We ordered him the chocolate sundae.  As he was eating, he asked, "Mommy, why did you get Kai this?"  He then followed up with, "Mommy, thank you for this ice cream."  To say that my heart cracked a little probably doesn't do it justice.  Is it possible to miss the days when ice cream and a trip to Dollywood complete your baby's world before they are even gone?  If so, that's where I am tonight.  Square in the middle of that. 

I guess change is good for any of us...

It's bad when it's been so long between blog posts that I don't totally recognize the settings anymore...  We are barreling toward summer in the Stowers' house, and the last few months have been a lot of fun...

About a month ago, we (and by we I mean everyone that lives around me except actually me) planted a garden.  What started as a little vegetable project became a 30 x 60 plot.

We celebrated Easter.

And we lived it up at prom 2012...

Also last month I decided on a big change.  I accepted a position as a graduation coach at Carter High, my alma mater.  Changing jobs has been a consideration in my mind for more than a little while, and the timing just seems right for a lot of reasons.  However, it wasn't an easy decision to make.  When I say that West High School and those kids have a part of my heart, I can't be more serious.  Yesterday as a I sat at Senior Luncheon for the last time (at least for a little while...), we watched the video that some of my kids made, and it took everything I had to prevent the trickle of tears from turning into a full out sob.  In a lot of ways I grew up there.  I started when I was 21.  Leaving that place behind is leaving more than just a classroom; it's leaving a lot of memories.  It's leaving memories of the highest highs and the lowest lows.  It's leaving people that I consider family; the same people who helped bear the load when I should have been a new mom but was dealing with something very different instead.  West High School is who I am, and what a terrifying proposition, at this stage in the game, to become someone else.  But, Clint and I worked through it, and we decided to go for it.  That's the thing about a change like this:  it's a family affair.  He is just as invested as I am.  In August I will go back to school.  I will be terribly nervous that first day because it isn't somewhere that I have been in quite a while.  I will be tackling a new set of responsibilities, and I will be sick about missing the nuances of West that I enjoy so much.  In the long run, though, I am praying that this will be really good.  I am praying that I can reach a different set of kids and that I prove to be just as effective there as I feel I am in the classroom.  Regardless of all my hopes, on the drive in that morning I am sure I will have to play a little TuPac to fortify my spirit.  I am trying to find out, I guess, if change really is good for any of us.  

On a lighter note...

Because of yesterday's super depressing post, I figure I have to follow up with a happiness and light update.  To get things rolling...

Brent and Laura came in at Thanksgiving, and we all took the boys to the aquarium.  They had a blast.

Clint's aunt made Kai this hat on the off chance we would have a cold day this winter.  Guess we will just have to put it in the curio cabinet as an ode to what might have been.

We got a new camera at Christmas, so my goal is to become a photographer extraordinaire.  This was my first shot.  Not too bad if I do say so myself.  If the subjects stay veeeerrrrryyyyy still, I think I can be amazing.

There isn't a particular story with this shot.  I just think it's cool.  (Well, besides that strange lady in the background...)  That's not true.  There is a story.  This is the first day we took Kai to the park that he actually climbed the ladders and went down the slides totally on his own.  It was a huge accomplishment for his playground-cautious nature.  He hasn't had that first big playground fall yet, but my heart did stop a few times.  I am fond of all his limbs and teeth, so I am hoping they aren't casualties.  

It's amazing all the things I DON'T take pictures of.  Clint and I went to Orlando without Kai after Christmas.  Not a single picture.  We also went to the FSU vs Notre Dame game.  Not a single picture.  Christmas.  Not. A. Single. Picture. Maybe the new camera will remedy that.  

Some days...

Some days it's really hard to be a teacher.  Not in the grading papers, attending meetings, making copies kind of way, but in the heartbreaking grief kind of way.  The way that leaves your soul bare and your reserves exhausted.  We lost a student last week-not one that currently attends West, but one that we let go just  a mere seven months ago.  He took his own life.  He took his own life.  There is no real reason to repeat that except as an attempt to wade through the actuality.  So, yeah, we lost a student.  The kids came in the doors, and there we were to greet them and do our best at walking them through the first day of the rest of their now very different lives.  It's a pretty tall order.  It's not having the words; it's not being able to fix the broken; it's feeling such sorrow yourself that you don't even have what it takes to fake a conversation.  Some days it's really hard to be a teacher.