What would Judi do?

Today was the first day of school. Traditionally it's a day of mixed emotion - the end of summer, the start of homework, seeing friends, an earlier bedtime. It's all part of the deal of learning. F or one of my kids, it's a high anxiety time. I don't want to be in fifth grade , she told me. I don't want to be a big kid. I want to stay small. Oh, I understand that feeling quite well. I often feel that way. I don't want responsibility, demands on my time, expectations of me. I want to feel free. I didn't have the heart to tell her that her life as she knows it will disappear. She knows it's happening. Many of her anxieties at 10 are the same I feel at 44. It amazes me how much I understand this kid - the one who isn't quite like me. But she's becoming more like me daily, which is a scary thing. M : I want to look good on the first day which means I must wear this outfit. Me: I want my kids to look good on the first

My given name is Judith Ann Rockhill. Yet, I’m called by many different names. Judi, by most folks. Judi Ann by my 8 th grade science teacher and grandmother, both deceased now so no one calls me this any more. Judith Ann by my former bosses in OCNJ and my mom but only when I’m in trouble. Mom, Mommy, Maman, MOTHER!, Ima by my children, depending on their mood. That interpreter by some of my clients. AnjaandMikaela’smom by the kids at the playground. Mom of the twins by the parents at the playground who can’t remember my name. Miss Judi by the kids in the mental hospital where I worked (and some of my kids’ friends). Bitch by my best friend from high school (and that’s totally fine). Rockhill by some of my friends. Hey or You by strangers. Ma’am by young people who want me to smack them. Miss by smart folks at the store. Mrs. Rockhill by people who don’t know what name to use (this is the correct one). Ms. Prien by the unknowing folks in my kids’ school.

Trust does not come easy for me. It never has. I don't mistrust people, exactly. I just don't trust them 100 percent to start. Folks have to earn my trust. And even then, it's doled out in small amounts. I am practicing this right now. I am trusting my children to go on the boardwalk unattended. I am trusting they will not lose their money, go off the boards, talk to strangers (except to say hello or order something), and they will come back in the two hour time frame I gave them. This is hard. My mom trusted me when I was their age - and I was alone. But things were different then. I didn't get into as much trouble and I had good common sense. Truth be told, I think they have good common sense (most of the time). Here's my bet: 1. they will taste every sample of junk food they can find. 2. they will waste money in the arcade but have fun doing it. 3. they will come home with another hermit crab. 4. they will eat/drink things I would never let the

From m-w.com: — home a : a familiar or usual setting : congenial environment; also : the focus of one's domestic attention < home is where the heart is> — at home 1 : relaxed and comfortable : at ease at home on the stage> 2 : in harmony with the surroundings 3 : on familiar ground : knowledgeable at homein their subject fields> I don’t often feel at home. I’m okay in my house – it’s full of my stuff and sometimes my family, which is comforting. But it’s not me. That will change soon, though. When I say I’m going home, I usually mean Lansdale, PA. That’s where I grew up, though I wasn’t born there. I was born in Boston and spent the first five years of my life in Chelmsford. A nice place, sure, but it’s not home. I couldn’t wait to get out of Lansdale. Now sometimes I can’t wait to go home, even though my “home” there is now the Marriott Courtyard hotel. Ocean City, NJ is probably the place where I feel the most at ho

I love the Montgomery County fair. It brings out the freaks and families, all to one place. The pig made out of butter has been replaced by a cheese wheel (now that’s disappointing). But there were baby ducks and ponies. And we were blessed by some guy at the pig races who declared #14 the Pig Queen and then said God Bless You All! That was odd. My kids were asked to say the Pledge of Allegiance for a prize. They could only do it in French but they still got the prize. They answered questions about rain-scaping and won sponges. Where else does this happen but at the fair? I love the sights and sounds of the fair. The lights are magical. People are happy. People eat fried butter and oreos. I guess it’s a good thing all the EMTs, fire and police personnel are there. I wonder how many heart attacks occur there. People are happy at the fair. The vendors want to sell you something. The exhibitors bring candy and gizmos for you to bring home. People give

In 8th grade, I had a strange man as a science teacher. His name was Mr. Aiken. He left mid-year to go on sabbatical so he could go to the Olympics in Lake Placid, NY. One day while sitting in class (I can't remember who his substitute was), the teacher handed me a card. It was a post card. From Mr. Aiken to me. I was the only one who got one. I still remember sitting there, the teacher handing it to me and all the kids looking at me. I felt special. I wasn't a good student in his class. I was grateful for the C he gave me. I didn't really deserve it. He wasn't a very good teacher. He didn't care much about teaching at that point and thankfully he retired a few years later. For whatever reason, we connected. I can remember visiting him after I went to high school and talking to him about my frustrations with my home situation. He always supported my mother but he also let me talk. I graduated. He came to my graduation party. Somewhere in ther

Oh, I could spend a million dollars. Or at least I think I could. But that's a lot of money so it's probably harder than I think. But I'd like to try. So what would I do with it? Here are my thoughts: I'd make sure my mom was set for the remainder of her life. I'd make sure my kids had a good start on saving for college. I'd buy a house that's all mine. And I'd get a housekeeper because I suck at it. And my kids would have their own rooms (on a different floor than me). I would have a kitchen that makes me happy to cook in. I would have appliances that work (AC, laundry - just the necessities). I'd go to Prague, Croatia and Yugoslavia. And maybe visit Poland and Hungary because I love both and I'll be in the area - it makes sense. And, of course, Paris. Twice. Once with my kids and once with the guy I want to romance me in that beautiful city. I want to have a car that doesn't look like I'm a mom. I want a pur

I admit it. I'm an addict. That's the first step, right? I need to confess that when I walk through the office supply aisle in a store, that I-want-to-be-organized-and-color-coded part of my brain starts tingling. Back to school time is the best time of the year - but not because my kids are going back to school. All the gadgets and doodads are on sale. I'M MEANT TO BUY IT ALL. Every year they come up with new stuff. Sometimes it's something simple like different shapes of post-it notes. I mean, who wants square when you can get different shapes! Who wants a yellow highlighter when you could get purple, pink, blue or green?? There are clips, pens, and notebooks - oh my! There are so many things that I might need one day. And they're on sale now! It's a sign. I'm meant to have them. One of my favorite places to feed this addiction was at a computer trade show event aimed at feds that I interpreted for several years. It was awesome!! I got a y

I just read Alissa Ender's post over at Have Stroller Will Travel about what her son will be when he grows up and it got me thinking. What do I want for my children? I want them to be happy most of all. But I want more than that. I want them to enjoy their life. I don't want them to have a job but rather something they enjoy doing. When I ask them what they want to do when they grow up, the answers vary. So far on the list: veterinarian interpreter (french or sign) inventor teacher musician artist writer The list goes on. What did you want to be when you grew up? I wanted to be a waitress. I really wanted to be a waitress. The idea has stayed with me all these years - so much so that every time I eat at the Woodside Deli, I want to get up and take orders (no, I don't do it). I also wanted to be a make up artist. I thought I'd be good at that (and still maintain that I would have been good at it). I wasn't allowed to go to vo-tech school, though, so that