Self Actualized and Sr. Joan

Last week my mom and I got a phone call from a nun, asking if we’d like some donated art stuff from the convent. Seriously, who would say no to that? Turns out that the nun was my fourth grade math teacher, Sr. Joan. Sr. Joan is as much of a character today as she was back in the late 70’s and I’m pretty sure if you looked up the word “spunk,” she’d be in its definition somewhere.

I introduced her to my daughter. Sr. Joan took one look at her and said, “So what are you good at, besides bugging your mother?” She winked and Lizzie laughed. Lizzie said sports and art and then when there was no response, she added, “and science.”

“AH, SCIENCE! Now that is good. Know why?” Lizzie shook her head, “Because for science, you need math!” Sr. Joan chuckled and jiggled her ring of keys (and I’m pretty sure it’s the same ring of keys from 30 years ago). Then she looked at me and said, “You know what the best thing about our progress reports back in your day?” I shook my head no, “SELF ACTUALIZED. We got a new principal after Joselma left and she asked us why we had that on the report card. Can you believe that?! If you aren’t self acutualized, what does the rest matter?! Yi, that lady didn’t last long.” She turned, jingling, and we followed her up the old convent elevator to choose which items we’d like.

I have been thinking about our meeting ever since and what it means to really be self actualized and I’m quite happy that it is something my teachers aimed for me to be. I’m also sure that you cannot measure it on a standardized test (but that will have to wait for an entire new blog post).

I realized today, at 6AM, while I was making pancakes for the four kids who were getting ready to head to Six Flags today, that one of the wonderful things about being forty years old is also being self actualized or at least being able to check the box “most of the time” or “exceeds expectations” on life’s report card.

I am not the same mother to Quinn that I was to baby Luke in 1996. In 1996, I had an idea of how to be a mother. I had shoulds and doubts and fears. I suppose I still have those, but today, nothing feels more natural than a baby wrapped around my hip, the smell of batter hitting the griddle, the sound of kids searching for their shoes. I am not a perfect mom. Many days, I suck at it. The difference is that I am comfortable in my mom skin now. I wish I could give all first time mom’s that feeling. It’s really the only advice I have to parents: Believe in them, but really believe in you.

Like Sr. said, if you don’t have that, the rest really does not matter.

Lizzie scored two giant old wooden palettes, my mom and her friend took art tables, chairs, file cabinets, and even a cool vintage rug (yay minivan). I walked away empty handed, but full.