Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Check it out ... !

http://www.tulumba.com/storeItem.asp?ic=zBK338086FI076

No Sign

My eldest turned 13 today! I'm officially the happily married mother of a teenager.

Oh my.

As the day approached, he had one simple request: "Please, mom. No front door sign."

Ah, teenagers. I LOVE em. Especially mine.

So, I decided to honor the request and recognize it for what it is: an opportunity! When one ritual ends, another can take its place.

To respect the increasing embarrassment ("my mom is sooooo annoying!") of my teenager, I began a new birthday-week-ritual this morning: a breakfast table display of his baby books coupled with all sorts of silly (embarrassing? absolutely!) little stories of when he was just a wee-one.

I think he kind of liked it; those eye-rolls are a teenager's way of saying "Thanks, mom. I love you too."

Right?

Saturday, May 16, 2009

Explode. Erupt. Enjoy.


It's spring on campus! And in my yard.

Tulips explode. Rhodedendrums erupt. Lilacs emit the aromas of ... well ... lilacs, of course. Buds burst all around and make my eyes water with joy. And allergens.

It's also a delightful time of year because classes have ended. Next week we give final exams (insert big sigh of relief). Because although I (Carol) absolutely love what I do, I also love the seasons of academia:

Start afresh.
Learn.
Lecture.
Discuss.
Read a lot.
Learn more.
Discuss further.
Take a test or two.
Challenge yourself.
Persevere.
Finish.
Summer.

And then next year, do it all again.

As I wrap another year and head into summer, I've been thinking about the fall already (starting anew) while being unusually appreciative of the baby-tenderness and freshness of this spring.

One of those fresh moments came from a lesson poignantly learned by a couple (literally) of experts guest speaking in one of my courses. You can read all about it in a blog to which I contribute at the University of St. Thomas. The entry was inspired by spring in my (rock) garden. Take a peek: http://blog.stthomas.edu/thescroll/archives/carol_bruess/