I was born in March, which is really very fitting.  March and I have a great deal in common.

We both tend to swing between lion and lamb, rain and sun, sweet and wicked.

Like March, I am often blustery.  Just mention the word “politics” and I will get my windy self all worked up.  I can blow and puff and push things around as well as the best March morning.

March is full of dark and glowering clouds that seem to linger for days; as I head out into each gray dawn lately, I find myself glowering at the other commuters, my hapless coworkers and even, alas, my students.

But like the month of my birth, I try to work towards a sunnier and warmer personality, and once in a while I succeed. As I speed down the highway, my eye is drawn to the soft pink that is just beginning to appear at the tips of the maple branches and my mood lifts.  As I line the kids up for recess, I let myself be drawn into a silly discussion about pie, and we all laugh together as we tromp down the stairs.

Like March, I am quick to change, too, swinging in one day from teary to joyful. The dogs make me laugh; a picture of my children makes me cry.

March and I want to give you spring, but we struggle with those icy patches that hide under the dark trees, refusing to thaw and reminding us both of the cold.

This week was a typical March week for me. It started with my birthday party, a day spent with all three of my kids plus one significant other. It was everything I had wished and waited and yearned for, especially when my “baby” Tim came in the door and I hugged him so hard that I couldn’t breathe.  He spent the night with us, which I love so much. There is something completely fulfilling and affirming for me when I wake up in the night and know that he is here. He left on Sunday to spend the week with his brother, a choice that makes me proud, happy, jealous and sad all in one big lump.

The week itself was up and down; small conflicts with a colleague, behavior issues with some of my class, a wonderful field trip, a sweet visit with my Mom, a backache and too many errands to run. Up, down, up, down. Blustery and calm; stormy and sunny.  Typical March. Typical me.

Yesterday was my Mom’s birthday; most of my siblings and many of my nieces and nephews gathered at her house for food and wine and gifts and green cake. The sunshine was the pleasure of seeing everyone in one place; the rain was the absence of my Dad. And today is the end of Tim’s spring break, and I am spending the precious hours of the day cooking for him, helping him wash his clothes, walking the dogs through the marshy woods behind the house.  March today is warm, sunny and calm.  I am, too.   But later today, Tim’s friend will pull into the driveway and he will pack up his groceries, his clothes, and his books. He will hug me, kiss my cheek and wave goodbye.  He will head back into his life, and I will head back into the house.

Tonight, I suspect, March will bring us a steady, quiet rain.