Starting in May, the kids no longer had homework, even though the last day of school was then over a month away. Thanks to STAR tests that first week of the month, teachers wanted the kids to spend their energy only on the test, not distracted from extra work at home. But then after the STAR tests were over, the homework didn't return.

Now, instead of math, spelling, and reading, the kids are finishing up their Open House projects. There is a class play, which of course is tons of fun for the kids, but labor-intensive for the parent volunteers. There is a pool party. There is a field day. But learning? Nope, what is there to learn since STAR tests are over?

Oh, I know: Maybe start teaching more advanced concepts. Or maybe start on next year's curriculum.

I know that teachers feel pressure about the small amount of time they have to teach many concepts. I understand this. The length of the school year is in question, but it appears that the real fear is how many school days appear prior to the STAR tests, not afterwards.

I know homework isn't the measure of learning; I wish it weren't so heavy sometimes, but I do wish that there wasn't such an abrupt halt of everything well before school is officially out.

I'd love the kids to keep doing spelling lists. While spell-check has become a savior for some, it has created some sloppy folks who don't understand apostrophes or readily allow their computer to insert an incorrect word.

Or, they could do a few math worksheets to introduce them to next year's curriculum.

Sure, I love the arts: I love the idea of doing a play, and I'm glad the kids have an opportunity to do some creative projects. Field days are great for kinesthetic intelligence. But it seems so unbalanced to work-work-work-work right before STAR tests, and then... just... stop... with a month of school left, nearly four months before they need to get into the "academic" groove again.

The surgeon told me something today that I've been longing to hear: I am not a failure.

He told me I did everything "right."

I am not weak.

I followed instructions that would have been perfect for 98% of the back-pain population.

I am the 2%.

The surgeon has a sense of humor: He printed out the photo at right for me. "Carry this around," he told me. "Whenever anyone asks you to do anything, whip it out and show them!"

Spines are not supposed to go vertical like that. Those little disks are horizontal in the cervical and lumbar spine, and are supposed to angle a bit as they reach the sacrum, but they aren't supposed to go straight up and down.

As I thought I was increasing my fitness by running, I was actually slipping my spine with every step. And as I participated in yoga and other core-strengthening exercises, I was only tweaking the damage more, and creating psychological damage (since my abilities decreased rather than increased with level of effort.)

Since I'm in the 2%, my efforts to help my health ended up hurting.

It isn't that I was lazy.

It isn't that I didn't follow medical advice.

I'm not some crazy hysterical female. Far from it, I've endured this too long. (Most of the 2% are caught decades before mine.)

I am not a failure.

(But my spine sure is -- ha!)

Continue reading "I am Not a Failure" »

From my cat vomiting in my desk chair (and me sitting in it) to one of those poignant moments where the best response is none at all, life has been a whirlwind.

One son has triumphs at the same time as he becomes injured. (Those neighbor kids will be the death of me; one slammed my son into a rock via bicycle.)

The other son shows he is becoming a young man, and it is bittersweet. I am so proud of him, and yet I'm shocked at how quickly he is growing up.

I ponder "serious things" one moment, and make up silly songs about lettuce the next.

I bought some excellent cruelty-free shoes, and am eyeing a vegan handbag. And yet in the same breath, I wonder about how I should probably set some money aside for some Big Things coming down the pike.

I'm glad the sunscreen is finally out of my eye, and doubly-glad the swim club is open. And yet, why did I wear a tank top yesterday but need a scarf and jacket today?

I've been doing a lot of work, and yet spending a lot of time on Pinterest, too. Surprisingly, this obsession has done a lot of good; I've actually made some of those delicious meals I pinned, and bought some of the clothing that caught my eye. I'm not all just time-suck.

Now that school is almost over, I have the Olympic Trials for gymnastics to look forward to, as well as my eighth (yes, 8th!) BlogHer conference. Since it is back in NYC, I'm going to have that crazy happy-sad reaction. I adore New York, so leaving is very difficult. I was essentially a different person when I lived there; to return is always quite an emotional roller-coaster.

(Maybe I should buy that handbag for BlogHer? Heh.)

This week's Life Well Lived Getting Happy question is: How does blogging, journaling, writing and connecting online help to increase your happiness?

I started blogging when a friend of mine invited me to join a group blog. It was called tamponblog. My second pregnancy provided plenty of fodder for this female-oriented endeavor. We did it to laugh at ourselves, and to hopefully give others a chuckle as well. When I was feeling the aches and pains of the pregnancy, it definitely made me smile to think of ways I could write about it.

Shortly thereafter, I started my own blog, which was later picked up by the now-defunct ClubMom (which morphed into CafeMom.) The Karianna Spectrum has been around for awhile, but has gone through several metamorphoses. It may sound cliche, but during that time, I've shared both good and bad; we've laughed, we've cried.

Later with the advent of Facebook, Twitter, G+, and now Pinterest, the "sharing" has gotten even more extensive, so I seldom feel alone. But it was definitely during those early blogging days when I saw just how valuable an online community could be.

I've gotten advice from online friends. I've gotten jobs from online friends. I've participated in events that I never could have imagined, such as the World of Color world premiere.

When I felt as though nobody in my immediate real-life community was going through what I was, I would find someone online just like me. And, of course, the very exercise of writing out one's feelings serves as a psuedo-"talk therapy," even if it is in front of the world rather than on a couch for hundreds of dollars an hour. As my own situations resolved, I was then able to pass it forward; I support those who struggle with things I did several years ago.

All these social media tools help make the world a bit smaller; we can find people whose lives inspire us or resonate with us. We can find support or seek laughter.

The act of writing itself makes me happy, too, even if nobody reads it.

As always, head on over to BlogHer to read the expert's answer to this question. Dr. Aymee shares how to blog your way to happiness. Be sure to enter to win the latest Life Well Lived sweepstakes, too!

My sons have created the following er... questionable poems for today:

As for what I had in my pocket? Just a cellphone and a constantly-in-use-right-now handkerchief.

I had library duty today, so got to hear the students share their poems and help them check out poetry books to bring home. Alas, today was also apparently "leave books on the floor day," as I discovered several library books just randomly lying about. This is the first time I've seen this happen. And the other day, a child checked a dictionary out - another first.

Back in high school I wrote poems about fabric, an old folks' home, and a spoon. I miss the unique writing prompts we'd get back then. Perhaps I'll try to challenge myself with some random prompts; could be fun! But in the meantime, I'm going to keep referring to random things as "ye old dust mop" since that makes me giggle.

It seems sometimes we trade one problem for another. Life is a bartering system where we have to determine what our priorities are, and therefore what we are willing to sacrifice. I've been doing a lot of "re-evaluating" recently. While it is my oldest son who is entering middle school soon, it feels as though I'm the one becoming a teenager again, going through those angsty sessions of "Who am I?" "What do I value?" "What am I willing to do, or not do?"

I guess I'm in that whole "mid-life crisis" thing, even though I'm not quite middle-aged. That comes in seventeen and a half months, and not a day sooner!

A few years ago, I thought a marathon would be on my bucket list. I thought I'd someday train myself to do a back walkover again. (I can almost still do an aerial!) But now I realize that the extreme back pain I felt while I ran (and occasionally the super-burning-foot pain) is apparently not a normal sensation for runners; what was brushed off as "a weak core" is a few fractures (yes, turns out there is more than one) among other things. Each medical professional tells me a bit more about my case, about how of course I shouldn't run, and how even if I were to have surgery, I couldn't do any extension stretches in yoga: no cobra, no bridges, no beautiful arched lines. Technically I shouldn't even allow my husband to dip me when we dance, since I traditionally tip my head back, arching my back.

In a way it is a relief: where I thought I was very weak, I discover that I couldn't help it. The harder I pushed myself, the more injured I became. In that regard, it wasn't my will that was a failure. It wasn't a poor work ethic. I wasn't lazy, even though I was ashamed when I was the last of my friends to cross a finish line at a race or when a family member commented on how I don't weed my garden enough.

I've felt way too much shame recently. But of course we are all valuable in our own ways, and I need not satisfy others. I just have to figure out how to respect myself. But figuring out who I am at this stage in my life may take a little time. I will fly again, I just don't know exactly how.

Continue reading "Self-Respect" »

I often tell my kids various things that they choose to ignore. I give them advice, which they brush off, only to later learn that I was right. But I expect this of them. They are forging their independence and are learning that mama doesn't always know right.

What chaps my hide is when adults don't trust me.

This whole whacked-out back situation has brought with it people who ignore me and people who listen to me. I fight with the people who ignore me to finally refer me to the people who (gasp!) actually look at my chart (just the facts, ma'am! FACTS!) and then declare me correct.

Continue reading "Trust Me!" »

I put my oldest son on a bus today. Sure, he was with friends and his 5th grade teacher, but it is the first time he's going off without either of his parents. I've been away for trips, my husband has been away for trips, he's stayed with my parents overnight, and he's gone on trips with us, but this school camp experience will be the first time he'll be away from family for an extended time, even if "extended" just means four nights.

Four nights is a long time for an 11 year-old. But he's ready. I'm sure he'll have a blast with his friends and will be surprised at how quickly the week passes.

Just last week I attended a middle school orientation program and thought about what an interesting and potentially challenging experience it will be. Still, online virtual lockers where homework assignments are posted and other slick things like a before-school bagel bar will make it a pretty smooth transition. Nonetheless, I couldn't believe I was sitting in the same middle school multi-purpose room just steps away from the gymnasium where I went to cheer on my junior-high basketball team during "away" games.

Oh, that's right. My son is going to be attending my rival middle school. How did that happen?

Five years ago, we made the decision to move to a different house in order to get into a different school district. It was a stupid decision financially, but a very smart one in terms of quality of life. Both my sons have benefited greatly from the move, and I'm shocked a whole five years has passed.

Back then, I thought middle school was a long way off. I couldn't imagine being comfortable with giving my son so much freedom. I couldn't imagine just sticking him on a bus, saying, "See you Friday!" and yet that's exactly what I did this morning.

When I was nearly 11, I had ear surgery. The bandages (well, the pain) made it hard to sleep. After all, I couldn't lie on either side, so had to remain directly on my back. I remember trying my best to be brave before the surgery. I helped calm down a toddler in the waiting room, I asked the nurses if I was the oldest one on the pediatrics floor (thinking they'd believe I was more "mature" than those kids,) and I impressed the pre-op nurse with my Etch-a-Sketch skills. After surgery was a different story: I was vomiting heavily: weak, vulnerable. I wanted to be treated like a little kid. I loved the little pink hedgehog toy my mom brought for me, and was thrilled to find a package back at home from my aunt. Inside was a ballerina stuffed doll that I probably would have seen as juvenile at the start of the day, but "Natasha" was perfect for snuggling during my recovery.

I'm still alternating between being brave and being vulnerable. Sure, the back stuff is weighing heavily on my mind, but so are things like gymnastics and school politics. From an ineffective Spanish teacher to bully worries, my mind is full just with the "parenting" part of my life without factoring in work and oh... that darn back.

Thankfully I've found some "Natasha"s to help me out: a school principal who is taking concerns seriously, and finally! some medical professionals willing to assist me. I've learned in greater detail the benefits versus the cost of doing surgery. It appears that given the several things going on, surgery is inevitable, but the timing can be negotiated. Do I want to live an active life now with the probability that I'll end up damaging the next vertebra in line, or do I severely restrict my activities in an attempt to put off surgery? And the "active life" is not a given with the surgery, either.

Right now, the "bandages" keeping me awake at night are more psychological than physical (although I do have back pain that makes it hard to sleep at times, even after having a series of cortisone injections.) Some things are in my control, others are not. The decisions I need to make want me to roll up in a little ball, like my beloved pink hedgehog.

Continue reading "Natasha and the Pink Hedgehog" »

If you catch me on an average day, I'll probably be pretty invisible, which is good and bad. I know how to add a few "personal touches" to my wardrobe, but I don't stick out as being someone wildly unique or exceptionally fashionable. (I hope I don't stick out as someone woefully underdressed or absolutely clueless, though.)

When I think about what I think is attractive these days, I admit my mind tracks towards that tango tangerine direction that is clearly not a unique idea. Even before Pantone officially announced its color of the year, I had already purchased an orange cashmere sweater, whereas just a year ago I would have shied away from the color. Clearly the advertisers did a fabulous job putting the idea in my head!

In the 90's, I was of course plaid-obsessed. I still love plaid, but the pull is not as strong anymore. And the 80's neon that is coming back these days may remind me of fun times, but I'm not ready to don anything that loud just yet. I admit I'm definitely pulled towards the trends; I want to be seen as someone who is "with the times" after all.

But there are elements of me that stick around regardless of what is on the runway: I've always loved stripes, as "sporty" as possible. I still love the outlined V-neck cardigans that were popular back when I was a middle schooler (but I don't actually wear them, since you won't find me on a tennis court, and when I'm at a golf course it is to watch my son.) I tend to enjoy more "masculine" or androgynous sweaters; is this because I tried to stay away from being seen as empty headed when I was younger? I often stole my father's sweaters (Electra complex, or just deep adoration for my daddy?) and have always shunned traditionally "female" patterns like floral, or textures like lace. I can see how wanting to be "strong" and taken seriously might have translated into this preference.

My gravitation towards ski-sweaters might be seen as an ancestral thing: I'm Scandinavian even though I've never set foot in the snow over there. But I have champion ski-jumpers in my bloodline, and perhaps my pride in my heritage has come out in this wardrobe choice. The colorblock-sweater 90's were good to me for this particular love; and yes, I know I'm one stripe or diamond away from an Ugly Christmas Sweater when I go this route, so I have to be careful!

You'd think I'd love bikinis, tank tops, or other summery attire given that I live in California. So why all the sweaters?

Perhaps it is because I seem to always be cold, or maybe I use them to cover up a body that I'm not entirely comfortable in. I feel that sweaters are more likely to create a "polished" look, whereas crisp cotton shirts end up being not-so-crisp if I don't have time to iron them perfectly. (And, back to body issues, my chest really can't handle button-downs.)

Sweaters are an easy "grab and go" without necessarily looking like I've completely run out of the house in my pajamas. I like the feel of a soft sweater on my arm, which is strangely opposite to my desire for bare feet as much as possible! Add some small earrings (I'm not much of a chandelier gal), some jeans, and ballet flats, and I'm good to go! (Sometimes I'll mix it up and put a statement necklace on instead of a shirt under a v-neck, or I'll wear some wedges; although with my back issues, I'm being cautious in the shoe department of late.)

Wonder how others cultivate their personal style, or what they've learned about themselves while answering this week's Life Well Lived question? Head on over to Maegan Tinatari's column to read 10 tips to cultivate your personal style. While you are over at BlogHer, be sure to check out the latest Life Well Lived Moments Sweepstakes. You could win an iPod Touch and a $50 iTunes gift certificate!