3 Little Snaps

If the Fates Allow

2011-12-22T19:10:00.000-08:00

I heard a Christmas song with the line "If the fates allow" sandwiched somewhere in the middle of a bunch of other jolly words. It was a song I have heard a thousand times over many years..a classic. Yet this is the first time I have ever heard that line. I don't know if in past years I was too busy worrying about all the holiday stress or if I just wasn't listening. But this year I heard it and I can't stop hearing it. It seems profound and rather thought provoking.

As much as I want to appear level headed and well anchored to the daily grind I can't deny that I do believe in fate. The fact that I know in my heart of hearts there is a pull from somewhere that is providing the road map for our lives. That somehow we are all destined to be who we end up being. The choices we make could make the journey shorter or longer or maybe less painful but all in all we we will end up where we are supposed to be. The really hard part is that there

is no fortune teller or instruction book that tells us what is coming next. How tomorrow will turn out. We have to live it to know it. Things that we hope are meant to be may end up as temporary.

I think when I replay that song over and over again in my head I am beginning to realize what it means. Take the chance now to be with those you love. Don't fret about who is going to sit next to Aunt Jane or if everyone will enjoy your new recipe. Order a pizza and let people chose their own seat. Don't obsess about calories or the crumbs on your floor. Lick the frosting off your fingers and brush the crumbs under the rug. Relish in today and this holiday with those important to you IF the fates allow....

** My 13 year old relishing spending quality time out to lunch with her family**

They Surround Me

2011-11-29T15:49:00.000-08:00

Super powers are over rated. At least the ones in the cartoons. Those unfathomable unattainable things that seem to signal a hero. Running faster than a speeding bullet or leaping a building in a single bound really only matter to damsels in distress anyway. The true hero's, at least the ones I know, have much more important special powers.

In my book, if I had one, the hero's would be every day women who have extreme strength. not the muscle bursting out of your shirt kind but the kind inside. The strength that makes it possible to stand back up after being knocked down and keep on walking. The kind that helps you make the strong sometimes stand alone decisions that are not the easiest but are by far the bravest.

My hero's admit weakness and accept help. They do not accept defeat though no matter how many times it seems to chase them. My hero's are real people. People I learn from every minute of every day. People I want to be when I grow up. Real people.

Making Lemonade Makes Me Laugh.

2011-11-16T10:39:00.000-08:00

So much of life is a joke. OR the only way to get through most of life is to think of it that way. Laughter usually makes things bearable. Lemons can seem more like lemonade if sprinkled with a giggle or two.

Like you know when you open the umbrella in the pouring rain and it is ripped down the middle. The rain gushes in soaking you but do you cry and add more wetness? or laugh and start singing (in the rain I might add)?

You drive thru the expensive coffee place for your weekly treat. The barista hands it to you and the heavenly steamy smell fills the car. You place it in the cup holder and pull away hitting a bump that sends the cup flying along with your dream of deliciousness and your 6$! Do you cuss and give in to the pain of the burns on your feet?? Nope not me. I laugh...and swing back through to buy another with the change I manage to dig out.

When you realize your kid has been crunching up crackers in her room to feed her elf and shoving them under a book for a week do you yell and tear the arm off the poor unsuspecting elf? NO. You giggle as you sweep up the cracker crumbs and ants and you write a note from the elf thanking the kid for feeding him.

Like when you call the Dr.'s office to see if they have any flu mist left and they tell you they only have ONE and you really need three....so you talk to the receptionist for 10 minutes trying to rationalize enough to choose one kid over the others for the mist instead of the needle. Only to start to giggle. Loud and uncontrollably. Into the phone. And end up not making an appointment for anything at all.

Or when you order your teenage daughter jeans online and can't face the fact that her legs are as long as yours even though she tries to tell you. You order what size you wish she still was. She tries the jeans on and they are half way up her calf and look ridiculous yet while trying to keep a straight face you try to get her to keep them and wear them with boots so you don't have to admit defeat.

When my husband complains about my coffee breath do I stop drinking coffee?? of course not! I make him a cup with half a container of creamer and a dash of coffee and serve it with a smile. He feels like he has become a coffee drinker too. It is a win win situation. He doesn't notice my breath anymore and he buys me the good kind of creamer.

I figure laughing so hard you cry burns lots more calories then just crying. I choose laughter.

Rough Edges Are Pretty Too

2011-11-07T10:46:00.000-08:00

November. Already. I like the idea of being thankful all year for things not just one day or one month. Because I am... you know...thankful. But to clear up exactly what I really cherish I wanted to say a few things. Things that I have just recently figured out. I am slow I know but sometimes things that are most important take time to realize.

To me the things that I find to be the most important in my life are not things at all. Nothing you can really touch or see but things you can feel. Finding that peace in your own life where you aren't trying to make things perfect anymore. Accepting what you love warts and all, no more trying to smooth the rough edges to a slippery pristine perfect. Realizing how important it is to love who I am when I am with someone... as important as how much I love that person. Why surround myself with people that I can't be myself with and enjoy myself with? I won't. Not anymore.

Tangible gifts are nice for sure but giving the gift of time to someone is more important. Taking the time to really know someone and experience memory making together. Reading a story or jumping in a pile of leaves makes more of an impact then a brightly colored package arriving in the mail. One hundred thousand presents don't equal the same as making a lopsided cake together or licking the spoon afterward. A pocket full of things doesn't make you a better mother, father, friend or grandparent...not with out the time investment.

Lastly I am grateful that I can lend an empathetic ear to those who need it. I pride myself on being able to listen and feel for but not judge those who confide in me. Real empathy takes becoming the other person and not reacting with approval or disapproval. It means listening and reacting in a calming, soothing, bridge-building way. Without having true empathy I don't really think it is possible to develop any relationship past superficial.

So those are the things that come to mind when I am asked what I am thankful for. Also the things I hope my kids can someday say they are grateful for.

Like Fine Wine

2011-10-12T16:36:00.000-07:00

It feels like it has all been leading up to this moment. My life I mean. Traveling all the way up that proverbial hill and teetering right there at the top. Ready to start slow on the way down and pick up speed finally crashing into a pile of wrinkles and gray hair.

Giggle.

I have to laugh at that analogy of being over the hill at 40. The trite crap you read on birthday cards. Real life tells a different story.

Saying goodbye to my 30's is surprisingly easy. I feel stronger now then then. I feel like the first 40 years were like studying for the test and the next 40 will be taking it. It is like I have put all the outside edge pieces of my puzzle together and now I am ready to start on the more complex, meatier inside pieces. That can be really hard when you don't have that all important picture on the box top to peek at. But maybe such a defined picture wouldn't really help me since I am making it up as I go along. Maybe some of those pieces have pictures of me doing a triathlon or a marathon. Maybe there are some of me in a bikini on a far away beach or sitting in a college classroom. The possibilities are endless really.

So on Tuesday when it is official don't feel any sympathy. No walkers or putrid black icing for this girl. Fine chocolate and expensive red wine, please. Let's celebrate! Besides isn't it success when you reach an important birthday and you find that you are exactly the same as you were the day before?

Frayed Apron Strings

2011-09-29T08:23:00.000-07:00

I feel like I am on the verge of the time when the kids decide they don't want me in the examining room at the doctors office any more. The time where if they forget their lunch money they don't call home but figure out a solution all on their own. When they choose their own science fair project and do all the research themselves and don't ask for input. You know the time when friends and the mall are chosen over family gatherings and diaries are really kept locked and hidden away. When their bodies are growing so fast their brains can't quite catch up.

I can't decide how I feel about it all. On one hand I feel glorious and victorious that we have done our job as parents so far. That they can find that independence and ability. But it is hard to know that things are changing and that I am not needed in the same way I once was. If only I had known all those years ago when I was up at 2am holding a crying baby while crying myself wishing I could just get her to sleep how things would change. I might have enjoyed it more then. As torturous as those tearful drop offs at preschool were I selfishly sometimes wonder if I should have gone in and sat down in one of the tiny kid chairs for circle and snack. But I didn't. I couldn't because it would have been all for me and would not have fostered any sort of independence.

My hope is that I am still the one they will come to for advice. That I am the one they know will set the boundaries that they can't cross but if they do will still love them no matter what. That when something is too hard or too unknown they feel they can confide in me not only because I am their mom but because they trust me to have their back. I want them to know mistakes happen and perfection is a fairy tale.

This parenting thing is a scary tightrope walk but at least there is a net below to help us bounce back up and try the walk again.

The Main Dish

2011-09-21T07:52:00.000-07:00

The fall is always busy. School and sports and birthdays and friends. This fall is over the top. There isn't one night during the week we are all home at the same time for dinner. We eat in shifts. Mostly sandwiches or cereal. Late. Then after that there is homework and showers and bed. No time to be a family. I miss that.

I miss the 20 minutes sitting together to eat. Where we are all turned toward each other and really talking. No phones or iPods or TV. The mismatched dishes and the thrown together meals add to the relaxed conversation. Everyone has something to say to contribute to the chatter. Questions are asked, days are talked about all around that table. Walls are down and problems are solvedall around that table. That time equals family and home. I miss that. I think we all do.

Last weekend we found our selves all home for dinner. The kids set the table and lingered long after the pizza box was empty. They had so much to say. So much encouragement to give each other and themselves. That table is helping to build confidence and empathy. It is opening ears and silencing fears. It is about being a part of something. Always having someone to listen and really hear. I love that table.

As the temperatures start to plummet and the darkness comes earlier dinner will be back on the table every night. It won't be fancy but we will once again congregate and connect. That table and everyone around it help me keep a finger on the pulse of what makes life positive. It makes me remember that my kids are becoming such individuals with opinions and humor all their own. All adding a different ingredient to the main dish: Family.

The Paper Trail

2011-09-08T11:30:00.000-07:00

I have never been much of a newspaper reader. The headlines maybe but never the stories. The one thing I have always been able to stomach are the vital statistics. Around the time I got married years ago I started looking at the marriage licenses every single day. I would pour over them finding names that I recognized and ages so close to mine. I would imagine how their wedding would be like mine. I would want them to be in as much in love as me. I found myself wondering about their story.Years later after my own wedding had passed and we began to plan for a family I flipped the page to the birth statistics. I saw names I knew often and eventually my own three times.That was a time of lots of laughter and tears...mine and the babies. It was a whirlwind. It seemed to go slowly but when I look back now it passed in a moment. Sometimes I wish I could have read those baby announcements a little longer.

But you have to go forward. I flipped quickly through the next section. But as fast as I went I still saw names I knew in the divorce section. I wondered about the stories behind those names too. Why some marriages make it and others just don't. What happens to those families after the papers are signed.

The last section is still foreign to me. I know I will have to turn the page eventually and read their final story. I know I will start to recognize names as time goes on. I don't want to identify with them. I don't want to recognize names and read those stories but I know I will have to. Some day.

In My Own Defense.

2011-09-06T11:40:00.000-07:00

In my own defense.....

...I forgot the window was down and other people could hear me singing to the teen station at the stop light...

...the shaving cream can is the same exact color as the hair spray.....

...I couldn't find my glasses because I didn't have them on...

...I forgot to take into account that the bank would be closed for the holiday...

...I never asked to drive a car so big ...or so um wide....

...someone has to be the official cheerleader at the girl's soccer games, why not me?

...it just felt wrong to leave one lonely glass worth left in the bottle...

...that text was meant for someone else ...

...the kids like frosted animal crackers too ...

...the butter made my phone very slippery...

In my own defense.

Truth Be Told.

2011-08-30T11:00:00.000-07:00

I have found myself telling my 13 year old more then once in the past few weeks that middle school doesn't really matter in the grand scheme. That she won't remember who sat at her lunch table or which girls stared sideways at her once her real life starts. That the fears and tears will melt away and won't be important. I want this to be true. I wish it could be true but I know in reality all those things really help to make us who we are. I don't remember the details of the miseries of middle school but I know there were a lot. Each one of those small things helped to make me who I am. The real truth is I appreciate some of the gruesome stuff because it made me more empathetic. I know the uncomfortable feeling of not being one of THE crowd. The one who didn't have the right shoes or the flirty attitude. The one with the zit on her chin

I survived though and I continued on to high school and college and marriage and motherhood and happiness. We all want our kid to make the team or get invited to the sleepover. We want for them what we know to be the easy way. The rough stuff makes us as parents get that pit in our stomach and the lump in our throats. It makes us remember. Sometimes it is more beneficial to deal with the rough stuff though. It makes us better people. I know it did for me. It made me an individual who can stand on my own now. As much as I want to make life easier for my kids I know that with out living through their own experiences and learning along the way they will never be the real them. Truth be told.

Note To Self:

2011-07-30T18:51:00.000-07:00

Always be sure to check the cats mouth for mice, birds or well anything alive or formerly alive before letting him inside.

Never focus attention on one kid when all three are sitting there clambering for attention. You will end up with mucho eye rolls, tears and a migraine.

Leaving a glass of water on your nightstand right next to your cell phone and laptop is never a good idea. NEVER.

You really do learn something new every single day. Sometimes it is as small as finding a new flavor of gum and sometimes it is as big as realizing how wrong you were about something.

Starbucks really can turn a frown upside down even if it is ridiculously overpriced.

Not all people have good intentions. Sometimes they want something and will do whatever it takes to get it...over and over again.

Cute shoes are most often painful as are cute underware and sometimes even cute seven year olds.

Eating 2 bowls of Lucky Charms at 10pm makes you have dreams about little green men, rainbows and sparkling pots of gold.

Never use your teeth to try and fix the dryer-bent clasps on your favorite bra. It could end in a cut on your tongue, a scratch on your chin or worst case both.

Laziness equals 10 pair of identical denim shorts and 10 white tank tops. Buying new is easier then trying to dig through the mess of your closet.

Playing in the Puddles

2011-07-25T05:39:00.000-07:00

Life gets complicated. Schedules and budgets. Jobs and kids. It isn't easy to just smile and enjoy much when you are trying to be a responsible adult. The stress gets extreme and we do things because we have too not because we want too. Everything becomes a chore. A to do list that has to be checked off no matter what the cost.

Maybe it is important to not always be responsible or act like an adult. When I was riding in front of my daughter on a bike the other day and we approached a big puddle I felt my jaw clench and as the water hit my legs and mud sprinkled my back I was less then happy. Well I was until I heard her behind me squealing with delight and laughing a deep belly giggle. I actually circled around and went through the water a second time. Opened my eyes wide and felt the cool sprinkle of water cool my legs. I let myself like it. I almost felt young again myself for a fleeting moment. I felt myself surrender again ,later, when I dragged myself to my tub to soak away the day and discovered brightly colored plastic "scuba" gear strewn across the bottom. Initially I wanted to be mad but instead I filled the tub and gave the goggles a try. Things were quiet under there and everything serene. Everything slow and moving at its own pace. I even sipped a cherry Icee the other day instead of my usual boring iced tea. It was like a party in my mouth that made me think of summers from years ago. Those summers when I played outside from sun up to sun down without a care in the world. Imagining without the burden of reality.

I am only weeks away from hitting that forever-forbidden-milestone-at-the-top-of-the-hill AKA: the big 4-0. Instead of feeling older I am feeling wiser. I feel like I am slowly learning to capture those simple moments..the ones that block out the chaos and slow down the clock. The moments that make life worth living.

Where is My Tiara?

2011-07-10T08:15:00.000-07:00

I feel pretty today. It could be because I actually washed my hair and took the time to blow it dry. It could be because Chris told me that he thinks I look pretty this morning. Personally I think it is more about what is going on the inside rather than the outside though. I am really beginning to like me. It has taken practically 40 years of self doubt and body hate to get here. It has taken many tears of why me and anguished sobs of why not me too. Lots of energy spent worrying about what people think instead of what I think. What is important to me and even more specifically why I am important.

So here I am with a spring in my step and my shoulders held back (with freshly washed hair I might add). More concerned about how I pay it all forward then what people perceive about me. Focused on why I make the choices I do rather than what I get for making those choices. Not leaving room for regret because it is not worth wasting precious time on that. Consciously embedding empathy into my reactions and advice. Hopefully being the best daughter, wife, mother, sister, friend and neighbor I can possibly be.

I kind of feel like I have won a beauty pageant of sorts. OR at least first runner up. Where is my tiara??

Like a Piece of Toilet Paper Stuck to My Shoe

2011-06-27T16:04:00.000-07:00

Now I remember what I felt like back then. Back when I took my newborn and my toddler to Target alone for the first time. Both in the cart crying and needing something different. The baby wanting to be fed or changed and the toddler wanting a snack or to use the bathroom. Me hardly holding it together with my spit up stained shirt tucked into my under ware , my hair unbrushed and a piece of toilet paper hanging off my shoe. Goldfish crackers periodically hitting me in the face as I ward off stares of women wondering what I was doing to that baby to make it cry so hard. Tossing random items into the cart but forgetting the diapers and wipes so necessary to survive. Signing the credit card slip without even bothering to look at the total and walking with clenched teeth to the parking lot where it has started to pour big wet drops. Strapping the kids in and dumping the bags in the back. Making it to the drivers seat before the tears start to come. Looking in the mirror and hearing myself gasp. Then instead of more tears a few giggles come from somewhere deep down. I realize I am doing the best I can. I am being all I can be at this very moment. No one can ask for more.

Drawing Lines in the Sandbox

2011-06-13T17:43:00.000-07:00

I am one of those parents that believes you can't be friends with your kids while you are raising them. I just don't feel like that is part of the job description. To me when you have kids you automatically vow to teach them to be independent, responsible people with morals. This doesn't happen if you are pals. It only happens if you are the one in charge. The one who sets the rules and punishments. The one who follows through with those rules and punishments.

I never quite get it when moms are so proud when their daughters say "my mom is my very best friend." Love? Yes. Respect? For sure. Trust? I would hope so. But... friendship? No. When you start to be best buddies with your kids there is a shift of sorts. Children begin to take on the burden of knowing the kinds of details friends tell each other about their own parents. In a sense they become the parent. Their focus goes from learning to being a confidante. Letting your children be your equal backfires in a big way. They begin to issue the rules and the punishments. The power is owned by them and the parents lose that all important gentle but persuasive guiding hand they use to help raise a contributing adult.

I love my kids but I take my job very seriously. I hope some day to be friends with them. Probably might happen around the time they have kids of their own. By then my job will be done.

That Mom

2011-05-27T09:54:00.000-07:00

This summer I will be that mom...

...who invests in noise canceling headphones that can easily be hidden under a hat

....who finds a way to remove green from three chlorine ridden blond heads

...who stocks up on water proof band aids, poison ivy cream , bug spray,sunscreen and WINE

...who serves potato chips for breakfast and ice cream for lunch

...who insists on bike helmets and seat belts but is ok with unbrushed hair and grass stained knees.

...who has room for three in How to Wash Your Own Clothes 101 **extra credit for folding and putting away

...who would rather listen to the kids fight then let them watch TV all day ((at least for the first week))

...who still gets up before the sun to enjoy a cup of tea and a few minutes alone

...who uses the hose to kill bees and get the ball out of the tree but forgets to water my plants

...who dives in the pool over and over no matter how silly I look

...who spends a half hour slathering the kids with sunscreen but ends up

with a burn.

...who makes Target and the Grocery seem really boring just so I can go alone

..who can't quite believe I will have a 2nd, 5th and 7th grader in August

..who has a calendar with big red X's counting down to the first day of school

YEP that's ME!

That Flimsy House

2011-05-23T10:20:00.000-07:00

Building a house of cards is a rough gig. Taking those flimsy cards and precariously placing them one of top of the other so that they form a structure. As the house gets bigger each card takes an extra careful strong but tender hand. One that doesn't waiver or tremor. One wrong move and the whole thing goes down. Everything you have built upon to make the thing bigger and better is gone in an instant. There is nothing left. The only thing left to do is start again with one card and then another.

I have thought of this house of cards a lot lately. I keep thinking of how many months and really years I have put into running. How I started with a mile and added on until I got to where I am now. I think of the hours and hours of pounding the pavement that brought me to happiness and fulfillment. How I transformed from a novice to a real athlete. One thing built on another. Up and up. Faster and faster until I was at the top of my game. Then a tremor-y hand and everything came crashing down. An injury. A stress fracture. No running. No exercising. Back down to the beginning. It's sad. It's hard to handle. But I am here. I am gaining perspective. I will be ok and I can run again. I keep remembering that I am lucky. Lucky that I am not one of those families that has had to deal with the horrific tornadoes or the extreme flooding in the past few months. I have not literally lost my house of cards to the wind or the water. I have not lost my life or the lives of my loved ones. My house will be easier to re-build. I am lucky.

European Cuisine

2011-05-18T10:38:00.000-07:00

The nearness of summer always brings about feelings of remembrance of a time before...before I had the responsibility of kids in summer camps and chore charts hung on the fridge. A time when my only job was to be a teenager. The brightest summer was the one that I lived between 8th and 9th grade. The year that defined then and now for me really. I went on a trip that summer with a student group. A few kids from my school but mostly made up of kids from other schools. We traveled to Europe for a 10 day tour of museums and canals. The trip started with me being isolated and alone but quickly turned to a time of discovery. There was a boy of course. One that I desperately wanted to notice me. There was a new girl who I began a friendship with that would eventually lead me to all that is good in my life. There were new foods , lots of Independence and hardly any rules.

We spent that week traveling on a bus from place to place all over Europe. Don't ask me exactly where because I could not tell you. I could tell you what games we played and how many times he winked at me. I can remember that heart to heart I had with my new friend and how we promised to stay in touch even though we would not go to the same high school. I remember the wishes I made word for word as I threw coins in the wishing well. When I look back through the pictures I took on that trip they are all of silly faces and obscure sights. There isn't one of a monument or a palace. Those just didn't matter. That wasn't what the trip was about.

It was about beginning to realize there is more in life to put on your plate than bread and rice. Sampling new things can be exciting and breathtaking. Taking a chance can lead to so much.

So when you send your kid off to that 8th grade trip remember that the education comes in many forms. All important. All worth the money.

A Cold Sweat

2011-05-04T10:49:00.000-07:00

Sometimes memories come back in snippets, sometimes they come in a huge flood with one leading to another. Most often something happens to jump start the process. Last week a boy around my 12 year old's age committed suicide. He was a boy we didn't know but one that went to a neighboring middle school and had many connections once removed. Just the thought of a kid that young being so tormented whether by himself or others to actually end his own life makes me sick to my stomach. BUT the more I woke up at night in a cold sweat thinking about it the more I realized what kinds of horrible secrets lie within kinds at that age. That's when the memories started. Those things I had hidden away from myself from when I was 12 and 13 and 14. When I was at that awkward stage where things just don't feel comfortable. Where your feet are too big and your skin is too oily. Where your hair can't be perfect enough and your clothes are way too babyish. That time where your inside and outside don't coincide and no one understands how you feel especially yourself. When you want your mom to hug you but you can't stand being touched. When you want to say daddy but it comes out as father.

My wave of memory was a vivid picture of me trying to halt myself from being embarrassing. By embarrassing I mean sweat. I had this thing with sweating. I wore deodorant but it didn't stop the horrible prepubescent sweat. I started to only wear white and when that even stopped working (in my 12 year old mind) I devised another plan. I started to layer a too small leotard under whatever clothes I wore so that I wouldn't sweat through. Did I consider the fact that two layers would actually cause more sweat?? Did I realize that the leotard was black and other people could probably see it through my clothes? NO because I was 12. The sweat was my nemesis. I channeled all my preteen angst straight into controlling that perspiration.

Eventually my hormones must have regulated and the sweat calmed down and all was dry but I don't remember any of that with clarity. I only remember hiding the leotard under

my clothes and hoping no one caught a glimpse and questioned me. No one ever did. That secret went undiscovered and got neatly folded up and placed in my memory for a later purpose. When I began to remember last week all the feels came back. I remembered that horrible awkwardness. I need to remember it bright and uncluttered. I want to take it and use it. You see I have three girls and they will have their "sweat". They will be uncomfortable in their own skin. It isn't a negotiation it just IS. It will happen. Whether it is sweat or zits or bullies or height or weight it will happen. I want to be empathetic. I don't want to tell them to suck it up. I want to put my foot in their pink converse. I don't want them to feel alone. I want to help them get to a place where they can fold up their memory and put it away to use when they have kids.

Open Auditions

2011-04-26T10:10:00.000-07:00

We all have our favorite TV shows we like to tune into every week or watch in re-runs for years after they end. We find characters we identify with or ones that make us laugh or cry. Those characters become embossed in our minds. They become real to us. When we see that same actor in a different role it is impossible to take them seriously. As much as you try and picture them as the new character the other, old one keeps surfacing. Forever typecast.

Much like real life. When you meet someone and get to know them they become a certain character in your story. They fit into a mold in your head. When you see them or their name is mentioned a certain feeling comes to mind. It is like they fill a "job" in your life. Maybe they become your comic relief or they are a good listener or fun to go out with. Typecast. The hard part is when they break that mold and start to resemble a new character. We look at them and see the old role. The part they played before. No matter how many auditions they do we just can't fathom that they could fill any new part in our lives.

But what if we opened our minds? We might really like the new character. We might love the new show. We might enjoy their new role in our story.

Shattered

2011-04-15T07:11:00.000-07:00

I took an axe and split my soapbox in two. I have decided that standing up there ranting on about what I think is silly. First of all I am not an expert on anything. Second I think a lot of what I say can certainly be thrown back at me as being hypocritical. I try to practice what I preach I really do but I am human and that often means reactions change with time and experience. I may have said I would never let my kids have a cell phone before high school and that I would never be that mom that said "because I say so." Guess What? My 12 year old has a cell phone. I say "because I say so" all the time. The plan we have in our head doesn't always stay true to itself. Which is fine if I am not up spouting off to others about my convictions. I think putting too many stipulations on ourselves generally causes us to become liars. I hear so many moms out there saying "I don't let my kids watch T "or "we don't eat sugar" or " I am homeschooling because it is the best education my kids can get". These are such broad statements that often end up making them have to recant.

Getting up on that box and talking about how you want to live your own life is only part of the issue. The other part is that by doing that it ends up pointing out other people's faults or weaknesses immediately and as obtrusively as a well manicured finger shoved in your face. It makes them want to find the cracks in your theory. You start to be put under the microscope and called on your own words. That special treat of sugary ice cream just this once becomes a thorn in the word never. Never is too big a word and a very very long time. When those stones hit your own house it will shatter and the glass is pretty sharp. I certainly would not want to have to backpedal across it...

The Mud Has Been Slung

2011-04-12T11:09:00.000-07:00

So Spring has sprung around here. Sure the birds are singing perky little songs before the sun comes all the way up. Yes flowers are beginning to tentatively poke their heads out of the soft newly green grass. It doesn't get dark until after 8:30 and there is even a rain tinged breeze whispering through the newly opened windows. All those things are true yet that is not what I am talking about. I am talking about the sudden onset of multiple activities. Concerts and soccer and plays OH my. I am talking about the muddy ground that is partially still outside but mostly inside on my floor and on my kid's suddenly too short pants and too tight shoes. I am talking about the scramble to set up entertainment for the summer before it is too late. I am talking about the sudden need to yell at the kids to be quiet because the windows are open and the neighbors can hear the screeching and screaming that was so nicely hidden during the winter. I am talking about the 100's of geese that have made themselves at home in the neighborhood. You know the big ones from Canada that like to use my car as their bathroom. Ah yes spring in Ohio.. it has sprung. That line between love and hate is so close together I can hardly tell the difference.

I Take it ALL Back

2011-04-04T08:12:00.000-07:00

So I have decided to just come out and admit I am wrong.

I am taking it all back. The

advice, the teaching, the modeling, the punishments. All of it back. Who cares that I am 39 years old and a former teacher and their MOTHER. I am obviously incorrect. My children tell me every day. They argue with every word that comes out of my mouth. Lets face the truth...I do not know best.

Maybe reverse psychology will work?

Never ever clean up after yourself. Just let it all pile up and who cares when you have absolutely no clean underware and have to turn some inside out?? Don't worry! No one will know and if you get in an accident and have to go to the hospital with dirty undies and holey socks.

Stay up all night. No really ALL night. It won't matter when your alarm goes off at 6:30. You will be able to drag yourself out of bed and make your breakfast and straighten your hair and be out the door with NO sleep. You ARE right...I am mean when I say 10pm is when you should be in bed lights out..that is just way to early for a 12 year old!

When I tell you it is going to snow and be cold IGNORE me. I am wrong way more then the weather man. Go ahead wear flip flops and a skirt. OH and be sure to leave your jacket in a pile on the floor. You won't get cold.

Packing three different forms of fruit snacks is a perfectly acceptable lunch especially if you add in some chocolate milk and maybe a cookie. That will keep you full all day and I know it will make you ace that spelling test you have in the afternoon.

OH sure let me shell out 80$ for those awesome shoes you want. I mean it isn't like you are going to grow out of them in the next few months or anything. HEY maybe I should add in a new purse and a pair of designer sunglasses while I am at it. YOU know I am made of money and think it will make you a better person if I give you every single thing you desire in life.

Is that outfit clean?? oh I forgot to go in your room and dig through all the piles to find the dirty clothes and then wash them so they were prepared for you this morning. I am so sorry.. will you ever forgive me for being so careless?? Oh and don't worry that there is a dried mustard stain on that shirt...we can just toss it and buy a new one. As a matter of fact let me run out and do that today because as you like to inform me I have absolutely NOTHING going on.

HER mom pays for A's on report cards?? OH WELL what a fabulous idea...let me give you 10$ for each A...oh and HER mom goes to get ice cream?? well lets do that as well...and HIS mom lets him get a new Wii game...how fabulous!

I would LOVE to paint your nails at 9pm! YES let me braid your hair too... AND study for that spelling test...I am certainly NOT in the middle of a show and who cares that I asked you hours ago if you needed help with anything. At your beck and call my sweet angels!

Whats that you say?? You don't feel like playing in the soccer game today?? It is too cold? OH OK you stay in bed while your dad goes to the game and coaches it...I wouldn't want you to have to run or kick the ball especially when you are so delicate and all....I mean wrestling with your sister and jumping from couch to couch should be enough exercise for you today.

Just So You Know.

2011-03-18T16:21:00.000-07:00

Just so you know....

I secretly love it when my youngest climbs into my bed in the middle of the middle of the night and snuggles in while letting out a little sigh..like all is ok now.

My eyes tear up every time I walk in my bathroom and see one toothbrush in the holder next to the sink. A visual reminder of another night alone.

Humor is sometimes my band aid for pain.

I used to hate to sweat. I used to think it showed weakness somehow. Now sweat represents power and being in control. I run to sweat.
I love to sweat.

There is a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. One is nice and sweet the other is uncontrollably all consuming.

Cinnamon rolls make me happy.

Labels are good for food boxes and medicine bottles but not for children.

Politicians are people too. They have families and lives and hobbies and favorite foods. Disagreeing with them on issues is one thing but spewing hate about them as a person is another.

If you are going to talk the talk you better be willing to walk the walk or it is completely meaningless.

Perfection is impossible in real life. No one lives in a fairy tale.

Just so you know.

Magical List

2011-03-15T18:41:00.000-07:00

I am not one to make lists. I am not that organized. As a matter of fact I am downright disorganized.. In my head I have lists but they never make it on paper and most of the time they don't ever manage to get things crossed off of them. I have been that way as long as I can remember. It is part of what makes me me. Disheveled and cluttered but still marginally lovable.

We are going on vacation to Disney with some friends of ours. They make lots of lists and even manage to cross things off. They are very organized. I love that about them. BUT I hate it at the same time because it makes me feel like that lady.. you know the one you see with her shirt untucked and her hair frazzled with toilet paper stuck to her heel, running around with her head cut off carrying a screaming baby with only a diaper on.

So in the spirit of trying to be organized and to head off being THAT lady I was inspired to make a list for vacation...I hope I can cross everything off this list..I really do.

My List

Skin ready to be warmed by the sun and hugged by Mickey, Donald and Goofy.

Hands open and ready to hold smaller hands so they don't get lost.

A mouth ready to smile and laugh. A lot.

Taste buds prepared for the delight of vacation only food and drink.

Happy rested feet ready to skip about the happiest place on earth.

The ability to let my worries go and focus on family and fun.

Eyes, wide open, ready to capture memories to treasure for years to come.

Love Exactly.

2011-02-12T10:55:00.000-08:00

**Warning: sappy Valentine's post below**

Love, to me, morphs over the years. It begins with the fireworks. The flowers and candy and hand holding stuff. The proclamations out loud of "I love you". Later it becomes more..because words aren't always reality. The longer it lasts the more it changes and deepens.

It is about learning how to be true to yourself yet being able to belong to someone else. He knows me as I know myself and I know him better. We accept each others faults because they are so much a part of who we are as a whole. When he looks at me he sees past my expression to what I am really feeling. His eyes to mine..soul to soul. Always as if we are the only two in the world.

Laughter and tears often intermingle with us. One first then the other. Picking each other up when we stumble. Learning as we go....leaning on each other. Everything swirling around us and nothing for certain except you are for me and I am for you. Exactly love.

The Treehouse Club

2011-02-09T10:41:00.000-08:00

Apparently I am never right. Everything I say is debated and contradicted and naysay-ed. There are a gang of girls that simply find fault in all that I do and say. three blond girls that look a lot like me. The ones I feed and clothe and hug. My Children.

Sometime when I wasn't looking they took a time out form sibling rivalry and came together to form club called Mom is wrong and we can't let her get away with it. Here is one conversation that pretty much sums up the whole motto of the club in a nutshell.

The 12 year old: "Mom, why didn't we ever have a tree house??? You know, like Arthur (the AARDVARK) and Franklin (the TURTLE)...they had awesome tree houses. I have always wanted a tree house."

The 6 year old chiming in: "OH YES! Little Bear had one too AND the Bernstein Bears actually lived inside a big tree house."

ME: "Well we don't actually have a tree big enough in our yard to put a tree house in...and umm well you guys are not fictional animals that talk."

12 year old: "Well Mother their tree houses were always out in a forest in the very biggest tree with the greenest leaves and the best berries."

ME: "So are you saying that you want ME to go out in a forest and find the best tree and build you a tree house ???"

All 3 girls: " YES if you loved us YOU would!"

The 10 year old: "BUT she won't. She never does anything we want her to do...SIGH"

ALL nodding in agreement ((..while they sat in their warm house, eating a home cooked meal, watching cartoons, wearing their Uggs )).

If I hadn't been so amused by the absurdity of the conversation I might have been a little hurt.

If You Play in the Big Leagues...

2011-02-03T19:00:00.000-08:00

I remember playing dress up as a kid. I would put on a lacy white gown and a veil and it would be my wedding. It was either that or I would play mommy. I would have baby dolls cradled in my arms or in the plastic carriage. I would feed them and change them and love them. I was always one scenario or the other ... sometimes I would still be in my wedding gown and move on to the mommy part. It was all I ever wanted. Love. Babies. White picket fence. The Big League.

The problem is that those absolutely wonderful things come with a lot of pesky details. There are jobs and mortgages. Children that aren't plastic. That have real cries and real poop along with distinctive personalities and opinions. Responsibilities galore. Fights and dates. Crying and laughing. Good and bad but all details. They take energy and time. Sometimes the details muck up the big picture. The important parts. The only parts that matter in the end. Love. Commitment. Respect.

Sometimes those details become too much and start to make you feel like the weight of your world is set square on your shoulders. Whether you crumble under that weight depends on so many things. It depends on being able to wade through all those details to get to the life stands still moments. The moments where time seems to freeze and you remember why you wanted all this stuff in the first place. When your child reads a book to you for the first time. When your husband holds your hand a little tighter and tells you that you are his forever. The days that your child demonstrates all those qualities that you painstakingly tried to teach them. Those moments that become an imprint in your memory. A testament to being a family. Which to me simply means having someone you love as your partner and raising children to be respectful, happy people.

What I have learned in all those years since I used to dress up in that over sized white gown and play family with such ease is that it certainly isn't...easy. In fact being a family is anything but easy. It takes lots of perseverance and work. It is hard and intimidating but anything worth having is worth working hard for.

The Hidden Bully

2011-01-25T06:10:00.000-08:00

When you hear about bullies these days it often pertains to emotional bullying. Words. Meanness through words. Texting and Face Book contribute to the popularity of this type of bullying. Well that and the fact that the girl bullies don't want to mess up their perfectly flat ironed hair or chip their manicures. One face is beautiful and the number two face is twisted up and grotesque. Hard to swallow at any age but especially at that age when you aren't at all sure of your own place in the world.

Way back when there was a different kind of bullying. The kind you read about in a novel or see in a movie. The kid towering over another that uses physical strength to cause harm. I remember a girl that used to live up the street. She was mean. She needed attention and didn't care if it was negative or positive attention. She used to get off the bus and follow me and a friend as we walked home. She constantly screamed the song "oh Mickey, your so fine..." in our ears and kicked our heels as we walked. She liked to make us cry and then she would laugh. The harder we would cry the harder she would laugh. It was what fueled her fire. Everyone knew her as the bully and she liked that. She took lunch money and lunches. She stole Halloween candy and shoved boys and girls alike. She ended up just where you would think she might. Alone. Uneducated. Jail.

The interesting thing is that the girl that is that bully today blends in well. She wears the Aeropsotle T's and sparkly eye makeup. She has a cell phone and lots of friends. She craves popularity and surrounds herself with the "ones". She knows just how to push girls down to be the one on the top. She knows what to say to make others shrink away. No need for punching or kicking. The new quiet manipulation causes less ripples and a much more efficient effect. This bully is harder to pinpoint. Harder to stop. Eventually this bully will be a lawyer or a mom or a teacher. I think I might like the old school bully more. At least those bullies are not hiding in every clique.

The Flutophone Chronicles

2011-01-13T10:37:00.000-08:00

My 4th grader came home last week with a snazzy blue case and a big smile. When she carefully unzipped it and tenderly removed her shiny new flutophone (or recorder as they call them now) I cringed. Some memories from when I was her age involving a not so favorable incident with a flutophone swept across my mind. She was so excited that I pushed the memory away and watched her attach the instrument to her neck strap and begin to screech out a few notes. After a few minutes she stopped and took her special cleaning cloth out and wiped it down and placed it back in her case just as precisely as she had taken it out. Her happiness lasted about a week. Last weekend she started to resent the plastic screamer. She couldn't quite get the notes right and told me that the teacher pointed her out and only her and told her she was holding it wrong. She didn't come over and show her how to hold it. She didn't tell her anything good she was doing. She just sternly chastised her in front of the whole class. That vision made my old instrument incident come flooding back like an out of control tsunami.

When I was in third grade I had a teacher who was known as the mean one. She yelled. Her voice was gruff. She had no sympathy for shyness or quietness. She disliked it as a matter of fact. I cried more then once in her class and she would tell me to suck it up, act my age, stop being a baby. That only made me cry harder. By spring I was holding it together more and had made a few friends in the class. We had just started a new unit in music and everyone was all a twitter. It was the flutophone unit! It was the first day and we were all excited to get our hands on them. It was loud and chaotic. Lots of squeaking and screeching. At that time there was not a separate music teacher, the classroom teacher was the one to teach the notes and blowing technique. When she had passed out one to each student she abruptly told everyone to shut up and sit down. Everyone did but there were a few squeaks here and there that interrupted her as she began the lesson. Again she told everyone to be quiet and threatened that the next sound she heard would result in a major punishment. There was absolute and complete quiet. Not one sound. No one wanted to endure one of her punishments. As she started to talk my friend, who was sitting next to me, made a funny face at me and I tried to contain a giggle. All would have been ok IF I hadn't had the flutophone up next to my mouth. You see I stopped the sound of the giggle but the air escaped out of my mouth and traveled through the mouth piece and created a loud squeak. Everyone looked at me, jaws to the ground. I could feel the red hot traveling across my face and the tears well up in my eyes. The teacher immediately walked over to me and grabbed the instrument out of my hands she told me to get up and that I could no longer be a part of the learning today. She led me out into the hall and made me turn toward the wall and put my nose up to it. She said I was a disappointment and turned around walked into the class room and slammed the door. I stood there for what seems like hours, crying quietly and feeling like a loser as other classes passed by me staring and whispering. I honestly don't know how long I was out there and I don't remember what happened afterwards. I do know that teacher should not have been there teaching young kids. After that day I would never ever look at another instrument. It ruined it for me.

When I started to tell my mom the other day about the incident she told me I had never told her before. In all honesty I think it went into the box in my brain full of those things that you just never want to have a memory of...things you would rather forget. My parents had something about that teacher that they put in that box in their heads years ago too. At a parent teacher conference that pivotal year that teacher told my mom and dad that I would certainly never go to college. She told them I would slide by and get through but had no potential for higher education. They told me that years later at my college graduation where I graduated magna cum laude with a degree in education.

Teacher do shape us in our lives. The academics are very important but so is the positive feedback and the ability to see potential even when it might seem there isn't any.

One Foot on the Banana Peel

2011-01-11T17:11:00.000-08:00

Some things drive make me bonkers, bananas and as mad as a hatter. Some things absolutely make me teeter on the brink of insanity. Some things like these things...

Forgetting my purse and not realizing it until I am in the checkout line at the store

Cat throw up

People who see the world in black and white and refuse to even consider gray as an option

Spongebob

Coats and backpacks strewn about

People who use guns to try and solve problems

12 year olds

Snow/ snow days/ cold temperatures

Not being able to run outside (see above ^^^)

Thong underwear

People who use religion/politics/being a crunchy mom as a reason for talking down to others

Poor grammar

My closet

Faster than a Speeding Bullet.

2011-01-05T09:56:00.000-08:00

Last year was heavy. Lot of things were hard to swallow and even harder to understand. Things that looked real and for sure, ended up being disposable and fleeting. In other words if something seemed to good to be true it probably was... those visions of perfection make the flaws even harder to accept and almost impossible to forgive.

When bad things start happening to good people it makes you want to grab on to some sort of unreachable faith. To try and find answers to those questions of why people who live their life in nothing but honesty and goodness sometimes have to face challenges beyond the realm of the heaven bound entrance exam. Why live in the light of what is right if there is no assurance of it bringing happiness?

I have decided that I was focusing on the wrong thing. There really might be no answer as to why horrendous things happen to those that don't deserve it..as much as you want a definitive reason why things in life happen chances are you won't get one. The badness and goodness of people is totally independent of the badness and goodness that happens to them. I can't change any of that.

I can however turn the focus inward. I can realize my own contentment. What brings me joy and delight. I can find a way to change my own circumstance. To enjoy the minutes and seconds while they are here instead of worrying about when they might not be. Remembering the things that can't be bought at the store or won in the rat race. Time can't stand still, in fact it seems to be moving faster every minute. Faster than a speeding bullet.

Que Sera, Sera

2010-12-27T17:55:00.000-08:00

We all want to start anew on January one. Making resolutions for change. The problem is that life didn't get that memo. Change happens when we are waiting for January one to get here. Sometimes the change is good, sometimes bad but all the time new. New means different. Different is hard for me. I like the same and the boring. Anything that rocks the boat makes me extremely sea sick. The thing I am beginning to realize is that once the waters calm the unexpected change can equal something important.

It has taken me 39 years but I am beginning to catch on to a few key things. People are who they are. My job isn't to change them to be what I want them to be. Another thing that is hard to swallow is that things that happen just do... umm...well happen. We can't wish them away or pray them away. If they are going to happen they will no matter how we fight for them to not. As much as we want our resolutions to change the way our life goes most often they don't.

This year I won't make that list of things I want to change. I won't waste precious time trying to make things different. What I will do is focus on having a new year filled with positive thoughts and acceptance of the changes that happen. I will find peace in loving the people in my life for who they are without making them into something they are not. I will also try to love myself for who I am...quirks and all.

Inside the Snow Globe

2010-12-08T10:22:00.000-08:00

When this time of year rolls around I can see the sparkle of excitement in my kid's eyes. Everything is special for them. The baking and decorating. The carols and secrets. They take it all in and embrace it with vigor. Our job as parents is to create and perpetuate these things in the form of tradition and magic. Even when we have to pretend.

This year I have been searching every where for that inspiration. I have looked in the bottom of the hot cocoa cup and under the sparkly ornaments. All I had been able to find until yesterday was stress and forced smiles. I was just going through the motions this year. Play acting the part of the holidays. As much as I wanted to let the swirling enthusiasm take hold and bring me to that place where snowmen talk and reindeer fly I just couldn't let it happen. I was too focused on what I usually get hung up on. Reality.

Then I heard some news that made me sad. News that instantly made me see that each moment is fleeting. News that made me sure that a lopsided tree or presents without bows don't matter. A girl I knew from High School lost her battle with cancer. She was never anything but good and sweet. She deserved nothing but a life full of love and happiness. Her three children and her husband deserved every holiday with her. Senseless tragedy and yet to me it was like a stinging slap in the face. All those unimportant things need to disappear. Finding the peace, joy and celebration with my friends and family is what is on my holiday plate. Giving what I can of myself whether that be through humor or compassion or simply gratitude for all that I have.

Hearing the Cricket

2010-12-01T10:09:00.000-08:00

Watching my kids I see the struggles I must have faced at their ages. Then I didn't know what it was but now i see it. That voice that starts out as a Jiminy Cricket whisper inside telling you right from wrong. The one that helps you realize the right thing to do. I remember the voice and how easy it was at first to ignore it and do what made me happy every time. But the voice got louder and I started to hear what it was saying loud and clear. Sometimes the choice isn't about our own feelings at all but about other people and how the choices I make effects them. That voice is like an internal moral compass. It helps us figure out right from wrong.

Things like walking and talking are based on instinct but conscience not so much. It is a learned behavior. We as parents have to set the standards for what is allowed and what is not allowed. We have to be aware that what we say and do is teaching our children whether or not to listen to that voice. We have to teach by example. We are the ones who must instill the morality that makes some behaviors not an option for our kids. All those things we see in the news day after day such as bullying, drug abuse, and violence are not necessarily because kids are bad but more because they have the inability to see right from wrong: no conscience.

That voice has always been a good friend to me. It has helped me to feel like a good person. It has helped me to know when to put others feelings before my own. The problem is it isn't always easy, especially when you are a kid, to see the bigger picture. Instant gratification is sometimes more important then doing what is right. Cheating to get a good grade or putting down a friend for a laugh seems like the only way to go to be liked. The most telling thing is tracing the kids who act with total disregard back to their parents. Then you find out exactly who is to blame.

Not Me! Monday

2010-11-29T09:56:00.000-08:00

The Monday after a holiday weekend is rough. So rough, in fact, it is forcing me to bring back an old favorite: Not Me! Monday. Are you feeling silly that you couldn't remember your own phone number when asked by your child's teacher? Embarrassed by tearing up over a Christmas song by a bunch of Chipmunks?? Well don't be! Join in with this little outlet that helps me admit some of my many imperfections and makes me reveal a few moments I might rather forget. You might find it as therapeutic as I do!

I'll go first!

There is no possible way I went into a school conference with boxing gloves on (in a figurative sense of course..ahem...or at least hidden in my large purse) and a page of notes ready for a throw down only to be informed that my child is exceeding all expectations..NOT me! I certainly wasn't so shocked that I stared blankly at a form when asked to make sure the address and phone number were correct..no WAY.

I could never have bought my six year old a stuffed Rudolph because I thought he was soft and adorable and I certainly didn't hold him on my lap while I watched TV and I was NOT a little sad when she asked for him back..nope not me!

I did NOT get up at 5am on Thanksgiving to go shop for bargains and I could never have enjoyed every minute of it. NONE of my crazy friends went with me, they would never get up that early:)

After saying I would never ever go out on Black Friday I could never have decided at the last minute to give it a whirl. I certainly did NOT skip a run to shop and there is no way that I ate hot Krispy Kremes two at a time...nope NOT me!

When I saw there was an Everyone Loves Raymond marathon on I certainly did not giggle to myself and settle in for an evening of viewing pleasure blocking out all the laundry and dishes I had to do.

There is no way I crossed my arms and cussed a few times inside my head when someone threw down a 76 point word in our iPhone Scrabble match. I could never have waited hours before I could bring myself to make my move all the while contemplating forfeiting the game..that would have been childish and silly!

NOT ME!

unTraditional

2010-11-18T09:54:00.001-08:00

Every single year the holiday season seems to get here faster and faster. As a matter of fact everything seems to be traveling at warp speed these days. When I stop for a second and turn around and look I realize I don't have babies anymore. Which is probably good because I never completed baby books for any of them. If you know me at all you know I am not a baby book kind of gal. I can't be that organized. Pictures in chronological order with cute little sayings are beyond me. That doesn't mean I don't want to make memories with my children though. I like the kinds of memories you build year after year. The kind you start before they can talk and continue for so many years that they begin to preempt you by asking when they are going to happen. The kind of memories that create tradition.

To me tradition trumps tangible memories. But that is just me. I find no worth in framed elaborate family trees with the names of people I never knew on them or written recipes of great great great Aunt Sarah's pecan pie on the original smudged paper. On the other hand taking that recipe and using it with my kids year after year to shop for the ingredients and then bake the pie together is something that brings joy to my heart. Those are the kinds of things I hope to pass on to my kids. Those kinds of memories that live in the mind and soul. The kind that keep you going during your very first quarter at college until that long awaited holiday break. The ones that replace the sugar plums dancing in your head. The things that matter beyond wrapped gifts and glittery decorations.

Magic

2010-11-11T11:22:00.000-08:00

Trends are usually things that don't actually conjure up emotions for me. Sometimes I follow them sometimes I don't but they certainly don't get under my skin and make me take a stance. Yesterday I read about a trend that infuriated me. One that I think messes with childhood magic and family tradition. The NO SANTA trend. Many people just starting their families are making a conscious effort to raise their children without the Santa Claus story. Without the traditions of the chimney and the reindeer and the stockings hung on the fireplace. They are choosing to tell their children Santa is a fake made-up story and the only real story is the one of Jesus. I take offense at this. I certainly would never tell someone who believes in the story in the bible about how Christmas came to be that it was a fake. I think the two are very different, very separate stories. One does not make the other smaller or less significant.

To me Santa is a gateway to all the things that are sweet and innocent about childhood. Letting your child believe in something that they can't make logical sense of fosters their imagination. I for one want my children to have faith in things that might be. I want them to feel the tradition that I felt as a kid. I want them to simply be children. To believe, sight unseen. It only lasts for such a short time and stripping Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy from them could be as detrimental as any other childhood trauma that causes them to lose their innocence. I don't remember the exact day I found out Santa wasn't real so it must not have caused too much pain. As a matter of fact there is a little piece of me that still believes in the fantastic magic of Santa because he encompasses the spirit of Christmas....and after all that is the spirit that parenting is all about.

Sweet Ride

2010-11-04T10:15:00.000-07:00

Last time I got in my car I noticed the melted crayon on the console and the wrappers on the floor. I saw the rip in the back of the seat and the crumbs permanently ground into the carpet. The van that I fervently fought getting 8 years ago. The one I was sure I wasn't old enough to own. The one that blended into the family as easily a much wanted new puppy.

When I drove that car off the lot I promised myself I would hold it at arms length and not let it become a part of us. The van had other ideas. It became a second house. It came with us to preschool and play dates. It weathered vacations and vomit. It affectionately became the red mommy bus and the M van. It provided diversions of movies and music. It kept the kids far enough apart that spats were short lived yet close enough to be able to play games and read together.

The minute it was paid off I started to imagine myself driving something much hipper. I saw myself in something new and shiny without the sliding doors and wiggles music. I would think of myself driving my new wheels with the breeze in my hair and a smile on my face. The last time I caught a glimpse of the war torn insides I realized a few things. The grass is always greener. That van encompasses my girls' childhood that is quickly slipping away. It is a scrapbook on wheels. As much as I want to pretend I am done with my minivan days I think I might hold on to it for a year ...or maybe two.

The Fantasy Ticket

2010-11-02T09:50:00.000-07:00

The election brings out so many wolves in sheep's clothing. The candidates promise rainbows and butterflies. They assure everyone of their moral and ethical quality. They all make promises that are impossible to keep. They want to present an ideal that we can't say no to no matter how much of it is hogwash and bullshit. Finding someone in the world of politics that is honest and straightforward is nearly impossible at least on the winning side. Americans want it all. They want their cake and to eat it too... with extra icing even. We buy into what we see as the perfect scenario. The problem is there is no perfection. Everyone has faults and over estimations and mistakes. Politicians are people. They sleep and eat and poop just like everyone else. They have wives and husbands and children who miss curfew. They get speeding tickets and forget to mow their grass. Human.

No one person can fix the problems in our country and no one person can cause the problems. There is enough blame to be distributed evenly over all parties. The fantasy I have is that everyone stops throwing blame onto other people and begins to really listen and work together. We all want things to be better. We all want the troops home and the economy to recover. Shut up about why you are better then him. Play nice in the sand box and build an America we can all be proud of.

Monsters in the Closet

2010-10-25T09:17:00.000-07:00

When you are a little kid goblins and ghosts come readily in your sleep. They represent the childhood fears lurking everywhere. Separation anxiety and darkness conjure up all kinds of scary thoughts that manifest into monsters. Growing up and becoming more aware of fiction versus reality helps the monsters fade into the woodwork. Nightlights are turned off and monster spray is discarded.

But...

Growing up even more and becoming a parent brings back a lot of fear. At night the thoughts of bullying or disease wake you in the dark with a start. Tears of what if fill your eyes and catch in your throat. Monsters take a different form but are no less scary. What if my child doesn't have friends? What if my child can't learn to ride a bike or drive a car? Why is she squinting? Why is she sleepwalking? Being a parent is scary. Sometimes like a nightmare.

But...

Fear is necessary when you love someone the way you love your child. Worry is the nature of the monster. You want the best. You want complete happiness. You accept the fear for them so they can focus on the important things. The things that make childhood memories. Birthday parties and sleepover. Cookies after school and laughter in the dark.

Annoyance: The Fabric of My Life

2010-10-20T10:06:00.001-07:00

I am just an average girl going through life trying to grin and bear all the every day irritations that pop up. Mostly I just bite my lip and tuck the annoyance away in a sound proof cell in my head. Sometimes though the file just gets too full and everything just pours out. That is the point where I can not continue to be nice (even if it is in a rude way). That is the point where I want to scream. Must relieve the pressure....these are some things that irritate the life out of me:

First grade math that is so hard I have to actually spend time thinking about it.

Salespeople who pounce like hungry lions...drool and all.

Girl drama...can't we all just get along?

Pink eye(s)

Business travel lasting more then three days especially when sick kids are involved.

Food critics who don't cook.

Cleanliness critics that have maids.

Facebook depression.

Political calls from the other side that refuse to take a polite no for an answer and continue to call back until overt rude becomes the only response.

Silly Bands. They clog the vacuum AND the garbage disposal.

Socks. Finding matching socks for three children and myself is surely going to drive me insane.

Mulch. On the floor. On the couch. In the sink. In my bed.

Closet Car Texters. Don't admonish me for texting at a red light or checking Facebook in the parking lot. YOU do it too....don't pretend.

Allergies. Sinus pressure. Snot. Itchy eyes. Yuck.

ANNOYING.

Cultivating the Fairy Garden

2010-10-11T11:38:00.000-07:00

From the minute I could listen my dad told my sister and brother and I stories. We would sit on his lap and hear about the little people that lived in the backyard or about where Mr. Rogers went when he left his show to go home. As we got older we would get a chance to add to the story. The more outlandish the better. We would take turns adding details and giggling at the shape the story would take. We grew up with rules but there was always room for imagination. We were encouraged to express ourselves. I loved having a license to push the limits of reality. It made me grow into someone with lots of layers and the ability to draw humor from peculiar places. It made me more empathetic and more sympathetic. Imagination helps provide meaning to experience and understanding to knowledge. So much of what we experience in life begins with imaginary play. It is almost like a dress rehearsal.

When I had children of my own cultivating imagination was right up there on the list somewhere between learning to walk and potty training. What I didn't realize is that my kids came with built in unique fantastic imaginations all there own. I didn't need to inspire them to love to pretend or spin fabulous tales. They came to me with that ability.

The older I get the more I become embroiled in the rules and laws that govern everything we do. It seems easier to just stay on the well worn path that everyone seems to be content following. Then I see my girls playing in their fairy town in the backyard or dressing up as doctors or brides and I remember. I remember how important it is to pretend and create. How important it is to step into the shoes of someone else and experience something new. Sometimes it is important to bypass the cookie cutter behavior. Sometimes it is important to remember that rules in imagination are non existent.

Quirks are Cute.

2010-10-05T11:05:00.000-07:00

Recently I was cornered by a couple of friends and pronounced weird for all my oddities. I prefer to think of it as quirky. It sounds so much cooler. I am choosing to take it as a compliment. I am not humdrum or ordinary or boring. Regardless of what you call it they are right. Absolutely. I am weird. But aren't we all? I mean each of us is like a snowflake. Different and beautiful with our own set of strange. I thought I would share a few of my best quirks. I bet I am not the only one.

* I freak out over having drop in guests. My house is just not a drop in house. I don't just have hors d'oeuvres ready to serve and fresh hand towels ready to hang.

* Public displays of affection are not my friend. I don't enjoy hugs or kisses. I don't like proclamations of love. Don't really like tears either.

* I hate surprises of all kinds. They make me want to scream. I like to know what is coming. Presents, parties, life in general.

*I can't stand fish. To eat or really to look at...they stink and taste gross. But weirdly enough I love the ocean...

*When I read books I skip words and even sentences. I get the gist of the story but sometimes I miss details. No wonder I read at warp speed.

* I love pretty, expensive jewelry. I have a ton of it. I never wear it.

* I sleep in the fetal position on my right side. Knees pulled up to chest. Can't stand sleeping with anyone touching me.

*I don't drink milk or look at it. Seeing someone else drink it makes me gag.

* I am musically challenged. I never really listen closely enough to hear the words. Instead I make up lyrics.

* I can't draw a straight line to save my life or cut one for that matter.

* I am way to literal for math.

* I name inanimate objects.

OK I shared. How about you? What makes you you?

Chatter From the Sidelines

2010-09-28T10:00:00.000-07:00

Anyone who knows me knows that I am happy to sit back and watch. I would rather not participate. I like my comfy chair and my warm and safe place off to the side. I let others take the lead and I just watch and follow. I don't like to ruffle feathers. I am a people pleaser and people are usually more pleased when they are right. Lately though I have been thinking about standing up. I am thinking about leaving warm and comfortable for the unknown. The future depends on it. My child's future.

I am over the education system ignoring anyone who isn't making the grade. Anyone who might need extra support or specialized education. Throwing anyone who doesn't score above the national average on the tests under the bus. I don't think they know best. As a matter of fact I think educators need a crash course in individualizing education. Every kid deserves to be treated as an individual not a test score. Every single child. No pretending. No wool proverbially pulled over eyes. No empathetic nods and fictional stories to even the playing field. Nope. I can not be pushed back into my chair and given popcorn to shut me up.

If it sounds like my panties are in a bunch that is probably because they are. I am so tired of being told that this is just the way things are done. WHY is this the way they are done if they are not working?? Time is wasted, years are wasted. I vote for the schools every time. I support public education. I want to believe in our school systems and trust that they are able to follow through on their promises. At the moment I don't buy it. I have questions and I want them answered. I want to ruffle some feathers and I want to rock the boat.

Humble Pizza Pie

2010-09-22T09:31:00.000-07:00

I think about where I came from all the time. I seem to look over my shoulder more then I look ahead. Actually I think looking back helps me get a grip on the future. Somehow involving our past in our present seems imperative to remaining humble.

When I was a little kid I remember lots of things. I remember my flowered wallpaper and I remember my bicycle with the banana seat. I remember our old green VW bus and I remember the pizza. We used to save money by making homemade pizza with hot dog cut up on it instead of pepperoni. I loved that pizza. It reminds me of my Dad and Friday nights. To this day he will still make me that pizza on occasion. I am sure it isn't as wonderful tasting as conventional pizza but it is wonderful none the less. Even more importantly it is something that helps me remember that memories and love don't come from money and pepperoni.

No matter what ladder I am climbing or how far away I go I won't forget those days. They shaped me and prepared me to make the choices I make every day. Choices for myself and decisions about raising my own children. I want them to have the same anchor of humility. To remember the ones that matter and not the things. I need them to remember that sometimes we have to go more then half way to meet the needs and wants of others.

Lately I notice so many people are forgetting where they came from. Forgetting the people that were there when...that made those memories and supported their dreams. It is like they are standing on a podium looking out over their adoring fans but can only see blank faces...one the same as the next. They are unable to see the real important people in the crowd. Family and friends that remember when.

Popularity is Not Something You Do in Your Spare Time

2010-09-15T11:03:00.001-07:00

Its funny how things stay the same year after year in the world of popularity. I noticed it last year when my oldest was in 5th grade and even more this year with the whole middle school crowd. It is so easy to see the girls that are the self appointed heads of the "social committee". The girls who put themselves in the spotlight and want to not only be seen but also followed by all. The ones that are the first to date an older guy and the first to taste a beer and the first to tell everyone about it. The girls that can make you feel like you belong in the corner red faced and blubbering because you aren't them. Being popular is like treading water, to get to the top you have to push everyone else down. Who is teaching these kids to be such proficient swimmers?? Their parents of course....

Don't get me wrong being popular isn't an easy job. It is all consuming to have to put forth that kind of effort. Those years of middle and high school are topsy turvy and almost an out of body experience. and not just for the kids feeling ostracized....like any war, it's damaging even to the winners. Sometimes though what might seem like the winner ends up being the one that falls flat on their face. Being all that to that many people can't last forever. Most times these kids peak in high school and hit a slippery slope down with nothing to look forward too. They have already experienced so many things on fast forward that when real life hits they are bored. They figure out that the friends they thought they had latched on to them to climb the social ladder. They realize that the boy that they thought loved them for forever just used them as a trophy. After graduation all bets are off.

Yet as I look at the parent's of the kids that I would consider the popular ones I see that the circle continues. The parents are what their kids will be in 35 years. Still high and mighty but now maybe a little sad.

AND yes (before someone points this out) a close runner up for the title of this post is: Yep I Am Bitter

Her Life...With a Twist of Me

2010-09-10T12:10:00.001-07:00

Sometimes things happen like in a movie. The scene when the key fits in a lock and the meaning is revealed. One of those moments that your whole life has been leading up to. The important place in the story where everything finally makes sense. Those moments are brilliant and scarce.

My moment came out of nowhere but certainly changed my opinion of myself. My middle daughter began having difficulty in school last year and was eventually (after lots of red tape and hours of begging) diagnosed with a processing disorder called Dyslexia. My first response was to immerse myself into any and all information I could find. Initially what I was finding was scary and hard to swallow but as I continued to dig deeper and find more detail I began to realize something. The characteristics within all of the articles accurately described my child. All of those things that had led me to use words like unique or eccentric in conjunction with her where in bold print right in front of me. All those things that make up her beautiful personality. That make her her.

Then I began to realize something even more amazing. Some of my own quirks that I had always tried to hide or suppress over the years seemed to fit too. People always thought I was stand offish when in reality I was just busy trying to navigate my road less traveled. I could never follow the worn path to reach the answers, instead I would wind around the forest for hours and eventually get to the correct end. Academics were hard but socializing was harder. I could never just look at the surface when I met new people. I couldn't focus on the niceties. I wanted to know the story and the details behind the smiles and designer jeans. Fake was not who I was or who I am. I see things in a different way. It is hard to be different especially when you are a kid but I like it now. It gives me a perspective that no one else has but that everyone can relate too.

Someday I hope that Olivia likes it too. She will learn to navigate the choppy waves and rise above the murky water and see everything with a new sort of clarity.... with a little twist.

Me, Myself, and I

2010-09-01T10:55:00.000-07:00

I have been thinking a lot about trust lately. How we absently put our trust into people even without them earning it. Those in authority positions just get the trust. Teachers and doctors and lawyers. We want them to have the answers and be in charge. We go to them for what we don't know and want them to spit out a solution. We have faith that they know. We are taught to trust them. We want to trust them. For all my life I have. I am beginning to feel like I should question that authority. I want be able to expose my vulnerabilities with the unspoken security that they won't be taken advantage of. At this point it seems like instead of feeling trust and reliance I am feeling a sense of being blindly led. Almost like the pied piper. The fog is starting to clear though. I can disagree. I can find my own answers. Questioning my trust in authority is actually about being able to find trust in myself. I like that. I need that. Before I can find trust in other people I have to find self confidence in myself.

Gotta Take the Good with the Bad and Smile with the Sad

2010-08-25T16:04:00.001-07:00

It is so easy as a parent to look at our kids and marvel in all the things we see that are beautiful. All the things that we helped to create. We see the dimple from Uncle Bob and the blue eyes from Grandma. We embrace the giggle we hear that echos our own and fall in love all over again when we see the smallest expression that resembles their Daddy's. Seeing all that is good fills you with a warm liquid sunshiny feeling from head to toes. It is beautiful and wonderful and entirely engulfing. The connection created between two people is a living breathing person all on their own.

The hard part comes when you realize you must also deal with those things that might not be so beautiful. Through tears we see our kids face things that they shouldn't have to. Things that we blame ourselves for and question ourselves about. Glitches that seemingly appear out of no where. Crooked teeth or allergies. Illnesses or difficulties in school. Obscure personality traits that can be traced straight back to ourselves. Was there something that we did to cause these things or something we could have done to prevent them? Those questions replay in our minds over and over and there is never a real answer. Simply the empty feeling of if only.

The fact is there is no magic petri dish we can spin around and separate the good of us from the bad when having a child. We are who we are, both the best things and the worst. In the end those things fade into each other and everything blends together into one unique individual. There is no strength without weakness just as there is no happiness without sadness.

I Got You Babe

2010-08-20T04:30:00.001-07:00

Sixteen years. That's a really long time. Long enough to realize when you have a good thing. To be able to ignore the snoring and the cold feet and embrace the secret looks and the private jokes. I look at our three children and see all the good things we see in each other. They represent why we fell in love in the first place and how we got so far still feeling that love. Even more then love I think respect and friendship are what seal the deal for us. We are a whole package and that is rare in the relationship world. When we are together I feel like the puzzle is complete but when we are apart I am lost. Sometimes I sit and wonder where I would be if our paths had never crossed. Probably still searching and hoping. Wondering what true love really felt like.The one thing I know for sure is that when we got married and the minister said husband and wife..I knew that would be what we would be forever. No question.
By the way sweetiepie this is your Anniversary card you know I don't like to waste money buying those pre-written kind :)

Holiday Road

2010-08-15T16:50:00.000-07:00

My husband and I have been taking vacations together for so long we have almost looped the long road of travels. Chris took his first ever family vacation with my family when we were dating in high school. He traveled to South Carolina with us in the back of a sedan. Me, my sister, and my parents all shoved together in a hot car for 12 hours. He embraced all the things that come with a family vacation. Both the bad and the good. The memories all started there and the minute we had our first child he vowed to make those memories last forever. What started out as he and I first married and spending the long rides talking about what we would name our first child turned into calming a crying baby in the back with a pacifier or a bottle. Holding hands over the stick shift singing love songs turned into reciting the wiggles music while making faces in the mirror. Our small car swiftly turned into a station wagon then a mini van. We traveled through diapers and play pens. We survived bottles and naps. Some years I needed a vacation from my vacation and other years I never wanted to come home.

The kids are older this year but the challenges are still there. The whining and fighting is almost as bad as them crying as babies. The hotel rooms seem to be getting smaller and the food costs higher. Chris still tries to attempt stops at Griswald type attractions but it is getting harder and harder to talk the girls into it. They will do it just for their dad but not without lots of eye rolls and complaints. I know that soon nothing will seem to be worthwhile without friends and then boyfriends. I am totally aware that we may have to force our fun on them. I remember when my parents did that to me. I hated some of it then but I love that they did it now. The vacation memories are integral to my childhood. The baby oil sunburns and the miniature golf are a part of me. Forever.

Be Prepared.

2010-08-02T17:03:00.000-07:00

I remember that August day 22 years ago. It was sunny and humid but there was a slight breeze that made it bearable. The moment I walked up the hill at the rose garden my attention turned to all the American flags lining the small stage. I knew that those flags were there to represent the importance of what was going to happen there that day. Chris was becoming an Eagle Scout. He was receiving the highest rank obtainable in the Boy Scouts. His whole family was there and all of his friends. The clergy that eventually married us was there. He was wearing his freshly ironed uniform that was filled with merit badges and medals. The head Scoutmaster was the one who presented the sought after award. He talked a ton about who is worthy of becoming an Eagle. Only those that demonstrate the Scout Spirit by following the Boy Scout Oath. Then he read the oath. Most of it was just a bunch of jumbled words to me but the line being morally straight made me stifle a something between a gasp and a laugh. At that moment I was sure everyone was looking at me and could see what had happened only 12 hours earlier that would have earned a very important life merit badge.

The night before started out like most others in our young romance. We took a walk hand in hand and talked for hours naming our kids and discussing our white picket fence. We had already proclaimed our love through promise rings and endless kisses. There was no pressure but everything just seemed right for us to take the next step in our relationship. We had read that was what happened next. We had been told by friends it was time. We were prepared. One locked door and some awkward fumbling later it was in the books and we moved on to the next page.

The funniest part is that the details have all faded and neither of us remembers most of it. All I really know is that I am glad it was him. I do remember seeing everyone shake his hand after the ceremony and blushing bright hot red because it just seemed so ironic that people were congratulating him.

I have been married 16 years and have 3 children and I still get embarrassed when I see a boyscout in uniform....

True or False?

2010-07-21T17:06:00.000-07:00

True or False?

I have never gotten a traffic ticket.

True or False?

I met one of my closest friends on a Mom's site online and she lives 100's of miles away.

True or False?

I have never broken a bone.

True or False?

I hate having pedicures because I don't like people touching my feet. I have never had a massage for the same reason.

True or False?

I met my husband when I was 15. My parents met when they were 15 as well.

True or False?

I could never teach again.

True or False?

I loved college but hated school with a passion before that.

True or False?

I am tone deaf and had to lip sync during choir in high school.

True or False?

I would love to have a fourth child if I knew for sure it would be a boy.

True or False?

I learned to drive on a stick shift and actually prefer them over automatics.

True or False?

I desperately want a tattoo.

True or False?

I enjoy being a kept woman. I have no desire to wear the pants in the family.

True or False?

I have never mowed the lawn.

True or False?

I wore my mom's wedding dress when I got married.

True or False?

I never had more then a few sips of wine before I hit my late 20's.

True or False?

I hate movies, concerts and traveling.

True or False?

I love ice cream, flea markets and running.

True or False?

I have had a cup of hot tea every morning since I started high school.

True or False?

I am obsessed with true crime, home improvement shows and my iPhone.

True or False?

I once tried on all the shoes of the wealthy woman I nannied for and used all of her expensive self tanner.

True or False?

I still have a shirt tucked away that was my grandma's as a memory.

True or False?

I have to sleep in a king sized bed all the way over on the edge with no one touching me.

True or False?

I believe in fate, karma and true love.

True.

Everything on this list.

Greeting Cards Do Not Equal Love.

2010-07-20T17:36:00.000-07:00

I have never been a greeting card person. I don't see cards at the store and think of someone and and I certainly don't buy cards and send them for every occasion. To me cards are brightly colored paper with someone elses words written on them. I can easily write a whole page of my own words to express my thoughts and feelings for special people and sometimes I do. Chris and I have even made a private joke of my distaste for cards. He buys me cards and purposely doesn't sign them. I do the same for him. We keep them in a giant box and, on occasion, reuse them for other people.

My in-laws are definately greeting card people. They religiously send cards for birthdays complete with the date and signature. Most of the time they get the right general time of their only three grandchildren's birthdays. Most of the time they put the right name on the front of the envelope. You might say what is so noteworthy of a grandparent sending a card? Well it wouldn't be and really it shouldn't be but unfortunately it is. It is so noteworthy because the card is basically it. There are no phone call's on the special day. No visit complete with a hug and a present. Nothing. Just a card within a few days of their birthday's. They live close. By close I mean 15 minutes away. My husband is an only child. There are no excuses.

Sometimes a situation plays out over so many years that the emotions that were so clear and extreme have faded into an expected numbness. They manage to see the kids 3 or 4 times a year. Mostly over the holidays mixed with other relatives and lots of fanfare filled with gifts and celebration. Never time for a conversation to find out the kids interests or personalities. Never a moment to realize the girls are growing up and have become such individuals. Never any desire for that. In the beginning I made an effort but it was so one sided that I eventually gave up. There is simply no way to force someone to be involved in your children's life. Honestly why should you have too anyway? Someday soon when they blink and realize that the girls are learning to drive and graduating from high school and even getting married they might realize what they have missed overthe years. I doubt they will though. I think they will just buy an ever so appropriate greeting card and send it on it's way.

Deciding to Care

2010-07-14T11:32:00.000-07:00

When I graduated from college and made the choice to take a teaching job 45 minutes away in a small community I got a lot of raised eyebrows. Why was I choosing to drive so far to work in a podunk town where nepotism and farms were the cornerstone? Why did I decide to accept a job in a falling down school building making a minor pittance compared to what I could have made in some other districts? People just didn't get it. Surprisingly the decision was not hard at all. The minute I stepped foot in the school and talked to the warm empathetic principal I made my choice. He knew all the kids who would be in my class and their parents personally. As a matter of fact the week after I accepted the job we actually drove to each house in his pick up truck and visited the students so that they would feel more at ease with a new teacher. On the ride to each house the principal described each child's strengths and their weaknesses. He really cared.

There were never enough supplies and I often had to scour garage sales to cover my lessons. I had a student that lived in a one room apartment with his mom and 4 brothers (yes ONE room). Some of the kids would come to school in the morning with their stomach's growling because they hadn't eaten since lunch the day before. One boy refused to walk and we finally figured out why. It was because he was wearing shoes that were two sizes too small because those were all he had. As difficult as it was to teach in sub par conditions and see some of the hardships I saw I would do it all again. It has made me a better person. A better mother. A better friend. I know that I made a difference in the kid's education and even more importantly their lives. I cared.

When I look at the schools today I see less and less of the caring mentality and more and more of the only thing that matters is test score mentality. Don't get me wrong I want my children to learn and get good grades but I also want them to feel the warmth that goes along with that. When a child is at school they are more then just a name on a roster. They have hobbies and siblings and in some cases scary things affecting their lives and learning. They are kids and can't block out tears and laughter to focus on reading and arithmetic. It is a mistake to phase out sympathy and empathy from the classroom. Turning hugs into high fives might not be the way to go. Unless of course we want to create a bunch of cold hearted Harvard grads. Personally I would rather see community college bound good, empathetic people instead.

Not ME Monday!

2010-07-11T18:03:00.000-07:00

Join along with me and Mckmama at My Charming Kids in admitting some imperfections and revealing some moments that you would rather forget. Come on you know you want too! It is super therapeutic and sometimes pretty funny! Enjoy!
I could never have gotten a tad bit giddy when I noticed the school supplies going back on the shelves at Target...no way!
I certainly did NOT wear my new running shorts backwards during a 7 mile run and there is no way that I laughed for a full 5 minutes when I realized it later.
My husband did not leave for an entire week in glorious Europe while I sat at home with three bored fighting kids..that would have been unfair and unjust.
I could never have challenged myself to avoid the grocery store at all costs this week just to see what I could make out of the stuff I had in the freezer and pantry NOR did my children say that they might die if I didn't buy snacks and treats for a whole week (( and I really DID make it the whole week)).
My oldest baby could not be turning 12 on Wednesday. Absolutely NOT. That would make me way too old. SO old that I DID not climb on a bike and ride around for the first time in YEARS.
I didn't resort to using slushies to bribe the kids on more then one occasion this week and I certainly didn't sit in the car playing on Facebook while they went into Speedway to get them...nope NOT me!
I could not have started researching going back to school to become a child psychologist just to get some inside tricks on how to deal with the idiosyncrasies of my own children..that would have been overkill...well probably...maybe
I definitely didn't avoid using the word definitely in this post because I misspell it every time I write it...nope definitely NOT!

Twenty Years of Perspective Makes You Brave

2010-07-06T18:30:00.000-07:00

Twenty years ago I remember being someone else. I was a kid then with everything before me. I was quiet and reserved with a stifled sense of humor (that was only funny in my own head). I thought that might just be who I was destined to be forever. Now, years later, I have certainly become someone that didn't exist then. The best part is that everyone in high school has become someone else too. The playing field was totally leveled the minute we moved that tassel. No more class clowns or prom queens. No more varsity cheerleaders or star quarterbacks. Those four years became a memory that actually had no impact on who we all are now.

Yet when I think about attending my reunion in a few weeks I still have trepidations about being around people who knew me back then. With the flashes of memories from all those years ago comes the flooding feelings of insignificance. People who put me in a category just like I did to them. I don't want to climb back into my wallflower anymore than I want to dig out my acid wash jeans. I hope that those labels that we all had will be as faded as those of a well washed pair of twenty year old jeans. We should all be able to come together with an open mind. To see how far we have all traveled in the work in progress that is our lives. Wrinkles and extra pounds are certainly not choosy and everyone has succumbed to them. The stories that once centered around school pranks and football games will turn to jobs and children now. The skirts will be longer or at least they should be) and the hair grayer. Twenty years can do a lot to alter a pimply brace face. What people see inside is what I care about now though. I want to shine through as the person who I have become or maybe who I always was deep below the insecurity and teen angst. Lets face it, some people that were once immature, self-centered teenagers might have grown into much improved grownups. I know I have.

What I want to gain from attending the reunion is the ability to sneak a boy back into my house just like I tried to to back then. This time I actually don't think it will be an issue....I think I will bring boys and girls alike home with me. This time in the form of a memory.

A Child is a Curly Dimpled Lunatic **Ralph Waldo Emerson

2010-06-22T19:25:00.000-07:00

As a first time mom I remember scouring the shelves of the bookstore for parenting advice. Books that would tell me what to do...how to parent. Books written by experts who knew the answers to my many questions. I just knew that I could find someone who would make me the best parent out there. The truth is that all those authors of all those books can go stick their respective heads in doo doo. I remember reading book after book and trying all the different ideas and nothing worked. The truth is parenting is not something that you can read about in a book or learn about from a friend. Good parenting comes with trial and error. Many many errors. The worst part is that you think you are good to go with a second or third kid after you have a first but that is just not true. Parenting is not a blanket. It doesn't cover every type of kid. Some need quilts others need comforters and still others sleep with no blanket at all. There is no expert out there who can dictate a sure fire way to solve all those hurdles we come upon while trying to raise our kids. There is not text book tantrum or perfect punishment. No one can translate their parenting into what works for me or you. Just as no one should judge the way a person chooses to parent their own child. We are all learning and facing new challenges every single day.

This summer is bringing many new opportunities to practice different parenting techniques. Most of the time I feel like I am running around smashing knuckles with my husband saying "wonder twin powers activate in the form of a good parent!!"( OK I know I am dating my self here :) Trying to find the right super power to tackle each diverse issue that a 12, 9 and 6 year old can bestow upon us. Each super power we transform into might work for one child but never for another. Thank goodness we are a dynamic duo and can usually come together to thwart evil and teach a lesson.

Why Can't Liar's Pants Really Catch on Fire?

2010-06-17T12:45:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it seems like I am wasting my time. I am spending day after day focusing on the truth and respect and rules and laws. Teaching my children right from wrong by giving them a good example. But every way you turn someone is getting ahead in life by lying or cheating. They do what they have too to do to put themselves ahead. They seem to be able to somehow rationalize their life choices and be able to love themselves despite how they live. The outrageous part is that it tempts me to just throw in the towel and join the forces. Maybe I should stop trying to do what I know is right and begin to do what is right now. Stop worrying about how my actions will affect other people. Think about what makes me happiest no matter who gets stepped on. It isn't like there is someone sitting there in judgement with a tally board keeping track of everything. In fact most of the questionable things people do to get ahead go unnoticed by most. The real problem in this whole plan is that I care too much. I can't throw all those things I know to be right out the window. I don't want my kids to be those people who are out for their own happiness above all else. I need them to have empathy and truth in their lives. Even if it is just for themselves in the end. The hardest part to stomach is that as much as no one notices the lies people tell to get ahead even more people don't see the people who live their life with truth, empathy and respect.

Mud Pies and Snickerdoodles

2010-06-14T10:33:00.000-07:00

As we get older I think we sometimes forget where we came from. We forget the things that were so important in forming who we are and what we believe. The things we experienced during our childhood years mean more then we could ever really know. The people that knew us back when are the ones who know us well for better and worse.

The other day I saw some childhood friends and one of them said something that got me thinking. She said that she didn't want to get mushy or anything but that she wanted me to know how much we (my family) meant to her..how important we all were in her childhood. She is so right and it went both ways.

The day the two sisters moved into the red barn house across the street from my house my sister and I were so excited. We saw the moving truck unloading a pink bike with training wheels and we knew that there were little girls moving in. From that moment on we made memory after memory together. We spent the summers joined at the hip. The moment we woke up we would meet in my backyard. The grass was still wet with dew and the sun was hardly up. We would make mud pies and hang out in the club house in the mulberry tree. We would hardly stop to have lunch and be back out there playing. No TVs or computers just good old fashioned fun. When school time would come back around we would peel away from each other but always end up back together in the afternoons and on weekends. We played barbies for years and so much more. I think they saw in us a stable family with a mom and a dad. Someone was always home after school and there was always a plate of fresh baked cookies. I think we saw in them the mystery of a single parent household. Their mom worked full time and they spent time alone. We envied that. We saw their dad show up every other Friday in his little sporty car and shuttle them to his house with a pool miles away. It was almost like a soap opera to us. One we couldn't' stop watching.

As we got older things got more complicated as they always do. We had different interests and different friends. The summers got clogged with boyfriends and jobs and the closeness wavered. An uncomfortable smile or a nod would be all we could muster for each other. By then their mom moved from the red barn house. We all went off to college and found our groove. We married and had babies and carved out lives. We have found each other again. A little older and wiser. We all have kids the age that we were when we met across that street all those years ago. Seeing our kids running around playing together brought back the things all those memories and that unstoppable connection. The connection made of mud pies and Snickerdoodles.

Heroes Aren't So Super

2010-06-11T12:11:00.000-07:00

I have dreams a lot. They are always the same. I am a superhero. I have the answer to every one's problems and I rush around fixing everything. I leave a trail of smiles and laughter everywhere that I go. Then things turn dark and foreboding. I turn around and look at my own issues and I can't fix them. Typical superhero life. Focused on others and unable to focus on yourself. That is why sometimes hero's aren't as strong and unwavering as you think they are. Behind those capes they have hearts and emotions. They also make mistakes and don't always walk the straight and narrow. As kids we are always asked who our hero's are. Sometimes I think this is a bad approach. A hero is something out of a story. There is no such thing as someone who can sacrifice their own being to do for others. No one who is perfect. No one who can erase evil and do eternal good. Building someone up to be something that they aren't makes them fall farther and harder.

A Clean Slate

2010-06-06T13:38:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I wish I could join the witness protection program (although I am not sure you can actually chose to join). You know just wipe the slate clean and start over. No baggage. No drama. No complications. I could choose a new name and a new place to start over. I would be nicer and not yell so much. I would dress my kids in matching outfits and have a white picket fence. I would have a floor so clean that we could eat straight off of it and trees perfectly grown and manicured. I would be self assured and confident. I would do the grocery shopping and try clothes on before buying them. I would enjoy pedicures and wear a bikini. I would cry when I was sad.

I might be able to do this a week then I would be who I am again.

New drama would appear and complicated relationships would begin. There is no escaping the fact that we are all human and nothing can stay at the surface for long. Everything becomes complicated and detailed. That is what makes life so challenging yet so empowering. We can't forget our faults anymore then we can forget our identity. We all have things we want to be but don't quite have that courage to reach beyond the comfort we have created. Our identity encompasses the good the bad and the ugly all wrapped up in the past, now and the future. Our pasts follow us forever but our futures are yet to be determined. We can be who we want to be to a certain extent but not without knowing who we were before.

The Harder You Laugh the Harder You Cry.

2010-06-01T10:46:00.000-07:00

I remember my first real friend. She lived down the street and was a real spitfire. She was everything I wasn't but wanted to be. I saw in her things I admired and wanted for myself and I think that is why our friendship blossomed. She moved when we were 5 but I will always remember her. Although that friendship was primitive and simple it really held the basis for all friend based relationships to follow. I am one of those people that prefers quality friends over quantity. The few that I consider friends are important to me. I am drawn to people who I see things in that I admire. Things I aspire too. Investing yourself into someone else is one of the hardest most heart wrenching, soul fulfilling things that a person can do. Letting yourself be found out flaws and all is part of the friendship pact. Another part is accepting those faults but instead dwelling on those things that brought you together in the first place. Sometimes it is hard to move back to that primitive beginning but it often reminds you of what was important and what began the bond. Just like every relationship, friendship grows and changes through the years. Growing pains are hard but the end result is something that is bigger and stronger. Pain always causes tears and they do sting but remember the harder you cry together the harder you laugh together.

Growing Pains

2010-05-28T13:39:00.001-07:00

I am the first to admit that I am not a good memory keeper. I don't have scrapbooks overflowing with hundreds of pictures or baby books with every detail of my kid's first year of their lives. I always vow to try and be better about taking pictures and labeling them and keeping them safe but it just doesn't happen. This is not to say that I don't have the memories in my mind though..I do and I cherish them.

The other day I was moving furniture around trying to find a bouncy ball

one of the kids lost and I found a picture. It was dogeared and folded and hard to see clearly. I looked at it for a few minutes and realized it was a picture of my oldest daughter when she was about 5. She had lost her first tooth and I had snapped the picture commemorate the momentous occasion. I sat and stared at it as the whole experience of that time in my life flooded back to me. The surprised look on her face when the tooth fell out. The tears over the drops of blood and the big smile that came next over the realization that the tooth fairy would have to find our house for the first time. That picture really is worth a 1000 words and feelings.

Another thing that the picture symbolized to me was how fast the time is going. Caroline will be done with elementary school in a few days and graduate to middle school. Then high school. Then college. Then marriage. Then grandchildren. That story behind the picture feels like it happened yesterday to me but to her is was a lifetime ago. To me the details are clear and almost tangible. My heart remembers as well as my mind....maybe better.

Her thoughts are going forward to more independence and new adventures while mine are relishing the sweet years behind us. The braces and training bras are bittersweet to me but exciting and new to her. She can't wait to be able to date and drive and be who she is going to be someday. Growing up is such a hard and tenuous process for kids but sometimes it is harder on Moms and Dads.

Lessons in Losing

2010-05-23T03:47:00.000-07:00

Soccer season came to an abrupt end over the weekend for my 3rd grader. Actually a sort of crash and burn. We went into the game undefeated. Full of confidence.. actually over confident. We lost. Faces all flushed and sweaty were now filled with tears and blame. Besides being defeated on the field the kids felt defeated inside. Finding a way to make children understand that losing is an inevitable part of life is almost an impossible feat. Almost as impossible as it is to get them to understand that there actually is a positive side to losing.

Being a winner obviously has better connotations that being a loser. When you win you hear cheers and you get hoisted up on people's shoulders. You feel bigger, stronger and faster. When you lose you get a lump in your throat and want to hide under a rock. In that moment of the thrill of victory or the agony of defeat it is impossible to step back and realize what exactly you learn from your experience. You just want the title of winner. Sometimes being the loser is actually winning in a backwards sort of way. Digging deep and seeing the mistakes we make can strengthen our minds and our attitudes. Learning why we lost and what we can do different is one of those things you can't take a way from a victory.

Losing is like an invaluable window into a person's character development. It means facing humility straight on without letting it define your identity. It means no excuses, no blaming, no self-pity. It means being able to say congratulations in a sincere way. It means understanding that the outcome can not be changed but that that doesn't have to hold you back from future endeavors. Being able to pick up the pieces and push forward is a vital lesson that can be applied to so many parts of life. Practice makes perfect even when it comes to losing.

All About the Editing

2010-05-13T06:13:00.000-07:00

I wish everyone else had the copy of my life story that I have inside my head. It is written and illustrated with beautiful shiny bright pictures. It has the words "the end" on the final page. I have it memorized page by page and I embrace it. Too bad no one else can see it and keeps adding new material. I hate not having the certainty that I want to have for smooth and easy. I don't want a chapter added on the veins in my legs or the wrinkles around my eyes. I could do without that chapter about the glasses and braces and school frustration my girls have to muddle through. I didn't put that in the book and I wish I could make it go away. I want happy and fun and easy. I know that would make such a boring book but honestly I would take boring.

I am beginning to see that the truth is that we can't write that story. It has to write itself day by day through every trial and tribulation...every up and every down. There is no smooth and easy. The sun can't shine as bright without the storm that comes before. We all have to have chapters that aren't so easy to read to get to those that are full of excitement and true joy. Some days I want to skip ahead to the parts that aren't so hard to read but I think that would ruin the story. As hard as it is for my heart to accept some parts of my story I can see that it is what makes me me and mine mine.

As I forge forward I still have hope that the last chapter holds some truth no matter how twisted the path is to get there. That my life meant something to the characters in my story no matter how much editing was involved. That I make a mark that holds true to who I am and what I believe. That my children can read my story and know that I loved them and felt their pain as well as their happiness. That their impact on me was as much as my impact on them. Mostly I hope they can feel inspiration through me and my story.

Stuck in a Muddle

2010-05-04T09:41:00.000-07:00

Those first few minutes you hold your child are magical. They are smooth and fresh and unaffected. You see yourself mixed with your husband. You smell their fuzzy forehead and feel the extreme awe of all that is before you. Everything begins to hit you and you get sucked right in. You want everything for your child. Prom queen, valedictorian and sports star all in one. Mostly you want success for them. Success and happiness. Society puts the definition of success out there as following the herd and measuring up to the norm. If you don't fit into that mold you become different and lets face it, different is never easy. Fear and struggle plague those that see things from a unique angle...especially when it is a child. Especially when it is my child.

Imagine the frustration of looking at letters that are supposed to make up words and see jumbled out of focus blobs. Imagine your teachers and parents saying try harder or be more careful. Confusion and heartache over understanding that you aren't able to do the same thing everyone else is able to do. Seeing classmates getting patted on the back while you just can't quite get it. The extreme exhaustion of working twice as hard as everyone else to cover the same distance. Just feeling you are stuck in a muddle all the time. Then come the labels. Dyslexia, Specific Learning Disability, intervention. How do I make all this OK for my child? How do we change the measure of success for her in this world?

Revamping that measure of what makes success is hard. Having to prove that she is smart and talented in her own perception of the world becomes the focus.

Understanding the need to facilitate her ability to succeed is the most important thing. Remembering that she is blessed with a certain edge that other children don't have. Maybe it is a creative talent. Maybe it is lively imagination or a quick wit. But it is there, and it's something the rest of us don't have.

Stream of Consciousness

2010-05-02T19:03:00.000-07:00

The rain last night really stunk. I had 2 cats, a scared 6 year old and a loudly snoring husband all squished in my bed. Not a good thing since I ran 13.1 miles yesterday in the rain and all I wanted to do was sleep. Backed out of my drive early this morning and skimmed my husbands car on the way out. Just a little red paint on his black truck. Maybe he won't notice. Went on a family grocery shopping trip. Not fun. Lots of whining and everyone throwing things in the cart. Spent the rest of the day doing laundry and sorting through the never ending piles of papers that end up on my counter every week. Mostly kid's papers and flyers from the school asking for donations or volunteers. Kept 3 out of 134. Had delicious wine and cheese at 4:30 and made a huge dinner. Strawberries with whipped cream for dessert. Lots of yelling and sibling rivalry around this weekend. Everyone lobbying for position and correctness. Vacuuming was actually fun today because I could drown it all out. A slammed door with a head in it sure makes for a lot of crying and more yelling and bruises. Ice cream is the perfect medicine. Well that and a magic ointment made from Jergen's and baby powder. The wind is blowing again and I think I see lightening. I hope not. I need to sleep tonight. This week will be busy. Soccer and soccer and soccer again. Swimming too. Throw in the dentist and a 5th grade strings concert and that looks about right. Trying to gather thoughts to finish a few posts I have started. Can't quite get there. Some things are just harder to say. Or harder for people to hear. Finishing my show and heading to bed. Hoping for no snoring. Maybe I should take some Tylenol PM or get some earplugs.

Once Upon a Time

2010-04-27T09:37:00.001-07:00

The other day I did a cartwheel. Jaws dropped, eyes open wide and amazed gasps filled the air. Then I did another just to cement the fact that I could, turning and lifting my hands with a loud tah dah to my skeptics. We have all been subjected to those super surprised looks our kids give us when they see us do something that is beyond what they think our playbook holds. They are used to seeing us in the mother light. Fixing dinner and mopping the floor. They see us nurse them when they are sick and wipe their bums when they need us too. We discipline them for talking back or using naughty words but what they don't realize is that we have used those words and talked back ourselves. We actually had a life before they showed up. We went to school and had friends and braces and drama. We fought with our moms and missed curfew. We danced and played kick ball with our friends at recess. We cried over grades and learned to drive on a stick shift. As hard as it is for them to see past the mini vans and mommy jeans there is so much more.

My resume says more then wife and mother. The skills listed are many and detailed. The important thing is that my kids realize that we are whole people with loves and interests that are older then they are. Those skills from before shaped who we became as a mother. Hopefully when I am 70 and do a cartwheel they won't be surprised. Hopefully they will be totally aware that I have a lot of tricks up my sleeve.

Mean Girls

2010-04-23T07:53:00.000-07:00

As the mom to three girls I worry a lot about them developing a positive self image. I try to model by example nutrition and exercise. I want them to want to be healthy. I need them to feel good about their bodies and their appearance because I know if promotes self confidence and leadership skills. My whole life I have felt big. I can remember in the 5th grade being taller and bigger then everyone else. I was shy to begin with and that just made me withdraw deeper into the wallpaper. I never tried out for a team or joined a group. I preferred to just stand on the sidelines. People whispered in hushed but audible tones about how big I was or how red my face was or whatever else they could think of to rattle me. My skin was so thin and my confidence so shaky that I wasn't able to power past the meanness. Instead I let it over take me and guide me through my entire education. I know now that I could not control what other people said or did but I could have faced the adversity in a different way. I could have embraced my uniqueness and found my place inside the gym or on the stage. My most important goal and message for my girls is to make them see themselves in a magic light with all their positive features shining through to the top of the list. The good always beats the bad in my book. You are taller then everyone?? So what you can also write a wonderful story or create a beautiful piece of artwork! You have pimples and braces?? SO what you have gorgeous hair and long strong legs!! Let all those things that might be holding you back fall away and focus on what you are proud of and can accomplish. Showing what you can do helps to develop thick skin that will bounce off the people who try to showcase the unflattering things. Most of the time those kids that point out flaws are so jealous of something they see in the you that they have to try to squish you down so you don't find your happiness. As a parent it is heartbreaking to see your child come home from school crying about someone else's words or actions. The thing that is important is how we teach them to deal with these meanies and also how to think about what you are saying to others so you aren't a meanie yourself! Surrounding yourself with friends who take in stride everything you have to offer including the good, the bad and the different is the true way to find the place you are looking for.

Trending on Caring

2010-04-21T18:31:00.000-07:00

Lately I have noticed an odd trend in many of the blogs I read religiously. Apparently the new thing to do is to simplify your life by giving away half your belongings, move your family into a smaller house and then stand up on a high horse and talk about all the good things you are teaching your children by doing this. I honestly don't get it. I am a compassionate person who does my part in this world to make a difference. I hope that I am showing my children how to be good, caring people who someday will make a difference too. BUT I am not a hypocrite. I want to be allowed to enjoy things in life without feeling like it makes me less of a person. Sometimes I drive through Starbucks and buy myself a 5$ coffee. Sometimes I let my kids pick a toy out at the store and sometimes I even choose the name brand over the store brand. I don't understand how my life following a normal ordinary path of enjoyment and compassion quietly makes my mark on the earth any less important or true then those that talk about it all the time. The purest form of giving is silent. Think about all the people that spend their whole lives giving of themselves and their time and talents but it is never known until their funeral. It is who they are not what they want others to see. What is behind the scenes is so much more important then the performance on stage. The biggest imprint on society is made by people who aren't using their compassion as a commercial to endorse their righteousness.

My Lovey

2010-04-19T14:55:00.000-07:00

All three of my girls had a special security lovey when they were small. My oldest sucked her thumb. She did it when she was sad or tired or happy. The first time we locked eyes after she was born she was sucking her thumb. It was so cute to watch her chubby baby fingers in her mouth. My middle girl had a crocheted blanket. It was an old blanket that was my husbands when he was a baby. Somehow it ended up in her nursery and it was the only thing that would quiet her. She would take the blanket and stick it between her lips and suck on it. It was really gross but also rather endearing all at the same time. My youngest had a small square fleece blanket that had different silky ribbons sewn around the entire edge. She carried "taggie bird" every where and would stroke the ribbons along the ridge of her nose. When you are so little in such a huge scary world you need something to grab onto that makes you feel safe and enveloped in warmth and security. Something that helps you realize that there is a constant in your life that you can forever count on to make you feel loved and happy. Actually we could all use something to make us feel that way in this world. Twenty-two years ago today I found that something. It was the day that Chris and I went on our first official date. We were both sixteen and less then experienced with all the scary details of love and life. Yet from that moment on we both grabbed on to the security and support we saw in each other. Year after year through babies and jobs and houses we both manage to find solace in the warmth and security we have been able to offer each other. His presence offers me the familiarity and comfort to be who I am. I never have to look back to see if he is behind me or forward to see if he is ahead. All I have to do is look next too me and he is there, hand out, ready to walk together.

STOP this Run...I Want to Walk!

2010-04-15T10:59:00.000-07:00

Sometimes realizations come all at once but often they come through a slow evolution of events and feelings. Things that are set up as goals get in the way of the path it takes to get there. The hardest part for me to embrace is that the trip is sometimes more important then the actual destination. I can't begin to put into words what the last year of running has meant to me. I have accomplished every goal I have flung out there for myself and am proud of that. The thing that makes me the most tingly inside though is what I have gained along with my goals or maybe even in spite of my goals.

I have found solace in the early morning with the quiet darkness and cool breezes. I have gained a knowledge of the fact that I do need time to do something for me. Something that makes me a happier, better mom and wife.

Most importantly, I have formed a sisterhood with woman that I identify with and respect. Our lives are becoming tightly intertwined and it is forming a web of support through rough roads and valleys but also a cheering section for celebrations and milestones. We talk about not only our hopes and dreams but our fears and disappointments. Judgement loses out to the ability to step into each others jogging shoes. If one of us falls flat on our face we all stop and help them up and dust them off and we begin again, together. I like to call it the Sisterhood of it could have been me. We so closely parallel each other that it is easy to see ourselves facing the same challenges.

Somewhere along the line the simple goal of running a half marathon has faded into the woodwork and the important stuff has crossed the finish line. I love running but I love what it has given me more. I can clearly see what I have gained in the journey instead of focusing on how far I still have left to travel. Eventually wrinkles will overtake us, our joints will ache and our hair will turn white but even then I will still find myself feeling the support and respect. Maybe we won't be running but walking and talking and laughing...always laughing.

Beth's Affirmations.

2010-04-08T06:12:00.000-07:00

We all go through times when a million things are happening at once. Stuff that causes the stress level to rise and the patience level to plummet. Feelings of fear of the unknown cause the need to shut yourself in a room and cover your ears and scream like a horror movie star or sit in the corner and grasp your knees and rock in the fetal position. When all this stuff creeps in I have found a revolutionary method to counter act it. I have decided to dig deep and remember why I am a good person. What makes me value myself in life. Things that make me happy and that I do to make other people happy.

I am eternally loyal. NOT exactly like a dog since I don't stick my tongue out and wag my tail but pretty darn close. I like being someone my friends and family can count on and trust. I enjoy being the one they can come to for help or celebration. It makes me feel loved.

Seeing my children using the tools I have taught them puts a smile on my face. I hear them say please or thank you or see them show empathy toward another and my heart just soars. I am not that horrible of a parent! They are learning and internalizing the things that are important.

Laughing. Sometimes at myself sometimes at other people. Finding humor in almost anything makes it more bareable. I try, through writing, to inspire humor and laughter.

Acceptance of diversity. I am proud of my ability to find inspiration in differences. I like it when people disagree with me or show me a different angle. It makes me reshape my original position and understand where others are coming on.

The relationship I have with my husband. Trust without speaking it, understanding through actions and high impact support. I see our past and our future and it makes me smile.

In the end I hope remembering these things about myself helps me appreciate my life and who I am. I know there is a another list probably twice as long someplace listing the stuff that makes me not so great but for now I am trying to turn my pessimistic ways around and focus on the positive. I am good enough (for now), I am smart enough (for today) and doggone people like me (at least I pretend they do).

To All Those Flat Stanley's Out There.

2010-04-05T06:22:00.001-07:00

We all know first impressions really do mean something. We try hard to pretend they don't matter but we are human and they do. When you meet someone you do notice what they are wearing and how their hair is styled. You do see some things that might strike you on first glance as imperfections. Maybe they have a squeakier then normal voice or their nose doesn't really fit their face. Maybe they have crooked teeth or large feet. Something will stand out to you in that first meeting and when you hear that persons name the next time that is what will pop into your mind. If you start to really get to know the person as a whole those first impressions begin to fade and become one with the rest of who the person is. You start to see past whatever that physical thing was and move on to the entire package. The next time you hear that persons name or see them you think all of them as a whole. All the things that make them who they are get so intertwined that it is impossible to separate all the mild idiosyncrasies. Realizing we all have our unique characteristics makes life interesting and I, for one, enjoy knowing as many different types of people as possible. This goes beyond the physical things and onto the stuff inside too. It bores me to sit and talk to people who constantly agree with every word I say and every view I have. I don't want to be placated or lied too. I want to hear new and different things and be heard by people who believe things I don't agree with. It widens my eyes and mind and makes me think past what I think I believe. What really gets me is when other people refuse to widen their narrowness. They don't want to try and understand what makes the world so interesting. They decide that I am too liberal or don't attend church and that first impression leads them to drop me like a lead weight. They have no use for me and turn back toward their internal group of people who feel the exact same way as them. They live without challenge or growth and judge me by the cover before finding out how interesting the book really is. It makes me sad for them but sad for myself too because I have all the confidence in the world that if they gave me a chance they would realize that I am not what they might think at first. I am more then just a political viewpoint or a religious view. I am a real live human being with the ability to listen and debate and change my mind. Being pious and one sided makes you a flat person without depth and hardly any acceptance. Agreeing to disagree doesn't take away from your conviction but speaks to the goodness of your character and the openness of your mind and heart.

Hey Bunny! Don't Put All Those Eggs in ONE Basket!

2010-04-01T11:32:00.000-07:00

It is so obvious that as a child you are learning new things every day. As a baby you learn all the basics like walking and talking. When you get in school you learn academic lessons and lots of social and emotional things too as you pass through each new age. When you graduate from college and get a job you kind of settle into a new sort of mentality. A sort of state where you have learned what you need to know and now on with the rest of your life. The hard thing to realize is that the learning doesn't stop there. As a matter of fact the lessons just get bigger and harder as we get older.

One of my big lessons lately seems to be to keep my options open. There is no end all be all goal for life. You have to be flexible with everything that you do. Curve balls come fast and out of left field and sometimes they hit that basket that has all your eggs in it. I am learning slowly but surely the importance of having lots of different achievable goals spread out in lots of different baskets. What I am coming to realize is that by having a stair step of goals, frustration and disappointment aren't as prevalent. Attaining each small goal brings a feeling of accomplishment and fuels me toward the next reachable success. It is so important to take the time to recognize progress and take pride in accomplishments, no matter the size or shape.

Preaching What You Practice

2010-03-29T12:43:00.000-07:00

We all remember that one time we are our shopping with our kids focusing on what to buy for dinner when all of a sudden horror and embarrassment strike. Our child notices a shopper who might be heavier or taller or darker or lighter then most and they say so, LOUD. They might notice someone in a wheel chair or someone with a mohawk and want to know WHY. They see them as different and their innocence allows them to question that instead of immediately turning away. Usually we shush them and whisper a few choice words about God's fabric being made up of all different kids of people or whatever crapola we can think of at the moment then walk away as quickly as possible. We might take the time later to talk about how differences are great and how they make the world go around. If the child doesn't bring it up again we sigh with great relief that we don't have to face discussing things that make us uncomfortable. What we want them to believe is that we embrace diversity and they should too. The real problem is that we all talk the talk (because we know we should) but forget to walk the walk. We want sameness. We crave it actually. We end up surrounding ourselves with people just like us. We take the easy route. Oh so easy but also bland. The idea of things or people different then us is scary. Of course scary doesn't have to equal bad. Scary can be inspiring and educational. Knowing new and different kinds of people can be the way to become a better person yourself. More importantly immersing yourself in diversity makes it less scary and more approachable for your child. It not only opens lots of doors in life but windows too.

Fab Five Friday

2010-03-26T05:53:00.001-07:00

We all know things are not the most important thing in life. Lets face it though there are some tangible things out there that you just fall in love with....some things that make you happy to get up in the morning. Things that make life a little easier. I am going to list the fabulous five things that have helped me through this spring break-while-my-husband-was-traveling week.

1) Wendy's new mid-sized pecan apple salad. It is just the right mix of lettuce, apples, candied pecans and cheese. Just the right mix of yum. It is so helpful when my husband is out of town and the kids want a kids meal. I don't have to give in to fries and a burger yet I still feel like I am getting a treat!

2) My new Saucony running shoes. So cushiony and soft that I feel like I am running on air. They are bright and shiny new and ready to hit the pavement for a few hundred miles. They make it easier to get up in the early morning dark and remind me that I have a few big runs coming soon.

3) Cadbury mini eggs. The pretty pastel colors remind me of spring even though we have a few inches of new snow on the ground. A handful here and there give my mind a little boost along with my taste buds. They remind me Easter is around the corner. They are my favorite reason for March to arrive!

4) Exact eyelights Covergirl mascara. Just a little swipe of this stuff makes me feel more like a model and less like a soccer mom. It has a hint of color and really lengthens my lashes. Easy and the best part is it is under 10 bucks.

5) My Kohl's 30% off coupon. Now we all know Kohl's likes to have sales. They always have sales and I refuse to purchase anything from there unless I have a coupon of some kind. Imagine my surprise when i actually got the coveted 30% your entire purchase in the mail! The girls and I took a little field trip there and had a fun time browsing and shopping PLUS we used it as a math lesson. Figuring out 30% off on every item we bought :) I also LOVE sharing the coupon with as many friends and family as I can so they can get a bargain too!

2010-03-26T05:14:00.000-07:00

A Good Friend is Cheaper then Therapy

2010-03-23T11:37:00.001-07:00

Sometimes things happen that make you stop dead in your tracks and sit for a while. Life is going at full speed with plans and schedules coming out the wazoo and then it happens. A blinding, numbing thing that can't be swept away or told to hold on a minute. Something that is meant to make you breathe a little slower, think a little harder and love a little more. Even as your face is still stinging from the slap life has given you and you are trying to sort out how to deal with the effects you begin to realize who is in your corner.

Family is of course there to give love and support but often they are so effected by the crisis themselves they can't pull you out of the water before you go under. Friends can be just the pillar you need to make it through. They provide a different level of communication and support then family. Lets face it a true friend is one who thinks you are a good egg even if you are half-cracked. They aren't afraid to tell you things you don't want to tell yourself but that you need to hear. On the other hand if you just sit together in silence it can be one of the best, most supportive conversations you ever have with anyone. No judgement just open ears and a water proof shoulder. After all that's what friends are for.

The Worst Mom Ever

2010-03-18T11:31:00.000-07:00

It is funny how mom's fall from grace around the time kids reach the age of 5. Before then we are the magical being who can do no wrong. Something sinister happens around kindergarten that changes the mom from a queen to an evil witch. That is also the time kids begin to emerge from their needy, dependent baby faces into opinionated, questioning monsters. Mothers that used to receive kisses and hugs for their efforts now receive eye rolls and hair tosses.

Dinner is never right and the chores are too many and too hard. The shirts you wear are too weird and why is your hair so short. Please don't wear those shoes and I might just die of embarrassment if you talk to me at the bus stop. You love my sister more then me and why does she have so many more sprinkles on her cupcake? You should have known I would forget my lunch money and library book and you should have told me to remember them before I left for school.

Apparently I suck. I am choosing to accept this as the circle of life. Maybe someday my kids will remember that I carried them in my own body for nine months and changed their diapers. Maybe they will realize that I still see them as my babies no matter how old they get. Maybe they will have an epiphany on their wedding day. Maybe they will understand when they have kids of their own. Doubtful but maybe.

Glue on that Happy Face

2010-03-16T10:07:00.000-07:00

I can't decide if I am a complex person or if others are just good at hiding their true selves. For me, no matter how happy people seem there is struggle brewing beneath the surface. As a matter of fact some of the people that smile the widest and laugh the loudest are fighting the most inside. Our lives are all about problem solving things that get thrown our way. No matter how controllable our immediate future seems it can change quickly with the influence of outside forces. We can't control that car speeding at us down the road anymore then we can change the course of the tornado heading toward our town. What we can control is our reaction and ability to find a solution that is the best one for us. Those solutions don't come easily or quickly in most cases and sometimes take trial and error to arrive. No matter how fleeting the moments of joy might be during the journey it is important to try and enjoy every one. By relishing those serene times, no matter how small or far between, it helps to build optimism toward what will be again. Finding it in ourselves to use the challenging times to consider the outcome is also important. Reflection builds endurance and strength to face what is yet to come. Constant smooth sailing is an impossibility on such choppy waters.

Down the Hatch

2010-03-11T12:30:00.000-08:00

I am a wine drinker. I like the look of the glasses and the pop of the corks. I enjoy how the flavor melds with certain meals and makes it taste better. I love the clink of of the toasts that you hear during a night out with friends. Wine makes me feel happy. When I say happy I don't mean drunk happy but happy that wine exists. Honestly it took until I was around 30 to feel like I was old enough to drink alcohol. Before that I always felt like a little kid sneaking candy. Then I gradually started sampling wine and teaching my tongue to decipher between two buck chuck and twenty dollar nectar. Becoming a lover of wine takes time and that is OK because lovers of wine are usually people that don't mind investing that time.

In contrast I remember the first time I snuck next to my dad's chair and took a swig from his beer can. I was probably 8 or 9 when I built up the courage to see what mystery sloshed inside that shiny can my dad always popped open and savored through the evening. The same minute the bubbly yellow liquid hit my tongue the bitter smell hit my nose. Both made me cringe and involuntarily open my mouth so the beer dripped down my chin and onto the carpet. Luckily scooting the chair over a few inches hid the stain That one mini sip scared me away from alcohol in a big way. Especially beer. Beer drinkers etched out a certain image in my mind. Men. Big men that obviously had absolutely no taste buds in their mouths. Remember I was 9!

As the years went on and people around me started drinking beer I started wondering if that one time I had tried it was a mirage. Maybe I was missing out on something important

in my life. So I tried beer again. Still underage mind you. I had a few more sips then the first time. Every swallow was excruciating. I tried I really did but I just couldn't hack it. The people around me obviously didn't even notice the flavor after a few cans just the effect. A light bulb moment! Alcohol was not necessarily about the taste! That ah-ha moment was then followed by the usual college parties of experimenting with the effect instead of the taste.

Once real life started and being a grown up with responsibilities began I realized I had come full circle in my alcohol journey. Taste really is what is important. I don't enjoy wasting hard earned money on a vats of beer or wine. I would prefer to have less but enjoy it more. Sometimes quality is better then quantity in life.

Invincible

2010-03-07T16:44:00.000-08:00

The only time I ever really spanked any of my kids was when there was an issue of danger involved. I remember once, as a toddler, one of them slipped from my grasp and ran in a parking lot squealing and laughing. She ran toward our parked car in the middle of traffic. I was running behind holding a squirming baby yelling desperately for her to stop. Goosebumps popped up on my arms as cars screeched to a halt to avoid pounding in to her. My fear was palpable yet she continued to smile and run from me. She had no idea of the danger she was in or the terror I felt. She was invincible in her own eyes. No realization of the fragility of life.

Similarly I remember being a teenager and taking risks that were big. Thinking that nothing bad could happen to me. Seat belts? Why? I would be OK no matter what.

Now I see that the only thing that can make you see that life is not invincible is life itself. Experiencing the tragedies and hardships of life are the best teachers out there. Seeing things with your own eyes tends to ingrain fear and reserve into your thinking. Realizing there are no super hero's out there who can protect you from the evils of the world does so much to melt away the naivety we all possess as children. The real problem that comes with realizing the reality of our own mortality though is that we become jaded and weary. Sometimes willing to accept whatever is coming without any fight or any joy. At least as a child we could find the joy in life with no fear. Sometimes growing up sucks.

From the Other Side

2010-03-03T16:26:00.000-08:00

When I was in college I switched majors over and over again....and even transferred colleges three times. I had a hard time pinning down what my passion was. What I felt drawn to do as my profession. I sort of fell into the major of education and more specifically special education. I had a lot of credits that fit into the major and I liked the schedule of being a teacher so I figured I would go for it. I didn't realize all I would learn from the field work I did in college or those few years as a teacher. I saw so many kids who had challenges and unique ways of learning. No matter how different those kids were they all wanted the same basic things as all kids do. They wanted to be able to find a way to make everyone proud of them, especially their parents. They wanted to accomplish something. Whether that something was algebra or writing their name. As a teacher the hardest part of my job was making the parents understand. To make them cheer every accomplishment as a success no matter how small. To help them realize that every child learns in their own way and at their own pace. I remember wanting to scream at the parents who couldn't take off their rose colored glasses long enough to see the greatness in their child. I couldn't understand why those parents didn't want to see their child do well even if it meant lowering expectations and possibly making their child seem different. The parents were by far the hardest part of teaching for me. I could not understand.

Time really does change everything. Now almost 12 years later I have come full circle. I do understand. I am no longer the teacher but the parent. I am on the other side of the desk. I am facing the hard realization that learning is pliable. It is based on more then just a curriculum or a lesson plan. Not every kid fits the mold that society has set up for them. Some need an alternative way to find their success. My own words keep echoing in my head from all those years ago. I feel the frustration of giving up an ideal to accept something new. My experience is telling me that new can be scary but it can also be eye opening and extraordinary.

Laundry is My Life

2010-02-27T11:34:00.000-08:00

When I tripped over a pile of dirty laundry yesterday I had an epiphany. I realized that the amount of out of control dirty laundry I have spilling out of baskets and bins and piling up on the floor is beginning to really parallel my life at the moment. Totally out of control. As usual life has hills and valleys and ups and downs and I know that. Right now it is like so many things are getting tossed my way I can't really focus on any of it. Some of it good and some of it bad but all of it stressful. Like the laundry, things are piling up and really starting to stink. Even when I struggle to tackle one pile it doesn't look like a thing has been accomplished. It is like a huge plate of spaghetti, you eat it and eat it but it never looks like any of it is gone. Certainly I want to take control and start sorting the laundry and loading it in to be washed and dried but somehow it is easier to let it pile up in the corner. Easier to turn a blind eye to making decisions and choices that will possibly be wrong. Glossing over the emotions just under the surface and muddling through all the piles trying not to fall. Putting all the energy on keeping the day to day home fires burning and the family calendar obligations filled. No time or desire to focus on the important things like matching socks and clean underwear.

Outside the Box

2010-02-24T08:17:00.000-08:00

I am often drawn to differences. I like to make choices that are out of the norm. I find it makes me happy to be who I am even if it might not make others feel that way. It has taken me 38 years to get to the point where I feel this way. Even now making the choices and being looked at as different feels rotten. I read a book (that happened to come from the fifth grade book fair) the other day that made me really start thinking about the way kids view each other around that really awkward few years between being a cute little kid and being a independent almost adult. I guess they call them the tween years these days. The years where the body changes are fervent and the friend selections are brutal. Those are the few years where the differences kids have are spotlighted and put under the microscope. Things as small as wearing glasses or what kind of lunch box you have have make or break you. It is so easy for kids to get lost in the fight to be just like everyone else that they forget what it might be like to be really different. The book, Out Of My Mind by Sharon Draper, really helped to take me inside the mind of difference. The book is told from the mind of an 11 year old that was born with severe cerebral palsy. She is bound to a wheel chair and is unable to talk or communicate in any way except the most primitive. She drools and can't feed herself. Her mind is perfect though. More then perfect as a mater of fact she is brilliant. It details her story from inside her head. The way her differences make the other kids see her. How the hurt spills onto her over and over again. She finds a way to communicate and gets what she thought she wanted but in the end she could not over come the way the others saw her but it did change how she saw herself. I wanted so badly for the end to wrap everything up in a bow and for her to be happy and accepted. Even though that didn't happen I think the book showed some more important things about differences. It showed that by being different you sometimes have to dig deep to find what is truly important. Judging people by who they appear to be is never a good idea because under the surface there is always something deeper and more revealing. Just like when you go to the library and choose a book solely on the cover you might miss a very touching, life affirming story. I highly recommend this book to anyone who works with children and to everyone entering into that stage where you are faced with being judged or judging by first impression. Really I think that reading this book would benefit everyone out there who needs to be reminded of just how important it is to open your mind and your heart to new and different things.

Judge Mommy on the Case

2010-02-21T19:00:00.001-08:00

Why is it that when a woman becomes a mom she feels she has earned the right to judge other moms? It seems like moms start making judgements about other moms making "bad" choices from the minute you hit the baby Gymboree class. When I say bad choices I am not talking about dangerous choices but things like whether to breastfeed or whether to let your child watch television before the age of two. Things like whether to put your child in daycare or to sign them up for tons of activities. You name it and there is certainly another mom out there ready to shame you for your choices. The judgement comes in many forms. Sometimes straightforward in a comment or a suggestion. Other times their distaste is easy to see by their frown or narrowed eyes. Often they whisper to a fellow judge as if you aren't even sitting there. If you work you should stay home. If you stay home ..what do you do all day?? why aren't you volunteering or why isn't your house as perfectly manicured as your nails?

I am certainly not an innocent party in all of this. I judge too. I try to contain my judgement but to sometimes it is impossible. I like to think my judgement is directed toward those who complain about situations they have gotten themselves into and that they do nothing to fix. Things like complaining about being dead tired yet doing nothing to lessen the amount of times their co-sleeping toddler wakes at night to nurse. We didn't co-sleep or for that matter nurse at my house but I have nothing against either one if it works. BUT if you are falling down tired and refuse to try some other parenting options I really don't want to hear about you being tired. I end up judging them for their choices.

What I find the most interesting is that the judgement comes from people outside my group of friends who know me best. We are able to share information and swap parenting ideas without feeling judged. Which is why I suppose we became friends in the first place. The real harsh judgement comes from those moms on the outside looking in who don't even know much of anything about me except what they see on the outside. They see what they want to see and form opinions and rock solid judgements in their heads.

Ultimately what is most important is that the kids are happy and healthy and loved. If they eat candy every day or stay up past 8 it won't make a life long dent in their ability to be a good person. What works for one family might not work for another family but that doesn't mean it is a wrong choice just a different one. Being a parent is hard work but judging is the easy way out.

All You Need is Love...Love is All You Need

2010-02-18T16:01:00.000-08:00

Over Valentines Day I starting thinking about a February 14 years ago when I got engaged. Then I began to think about how young I was when I got married and how sometimes I feel like I want a do over. I was so young when I got married that I really didn't think about any of the specifics of the actual wedding but instead I just wanted to be together and saw that as the most permanent way. At 22 I was hardly old enough to sip champagne or wear high heels let alone make choices that were supposed to create life long memories. Now 15 years wiser I can see some things that really could use a major do over.

-First of all I wish I would have hired a real photographer. I would not have let a teddy bear backpack carrying, propeller hat wearing Aunt of the groom convince us she was a talented picture taker. I would not have accepted her offer to take the pictures for free. Now I have no pictures. Only snapshots from the guests. Maybe I should dig out my wedding dress and get my photographer friend, Liz, to take some pictures. I might still be able to fit in it (with the help of my Spanx) and I know my hair is way better now. Too bad the groom doesn't have any hair at all these days.

-The bridesmaid dresses. We ordered them from a Chadwick's catalog. There was only one color choice so that became the wedding "color" whether I liked it or not. There were also a floral pattern and sort of flowy which didn't exactly work with all the heights of my maids.

-The outside location seemed perfectly picturesque at the time. I hate that they tore down the flower covered gazebo and replaced it with a Kentucky fried Taco Bell. Every time I order my bean burrito and my extra crunchy bucket I think about my vows for lifelong love.

-I would love to be able to have some of the people I have met since my wedding share that day with me. I have met some incredible people that are extremely special to me that I would like to be in those pictures...err ummm wait I don't have those...I would love them to be in the memories.

-My honeymoon. Myrtle Beach. A 12 hour drive to a cheap hotel with paper thin sheets and a broken AC. Big trucks cruising the strip booming with loud music at all hours. Gourmet Godfather's Pizza and sweet iced tea.

In the end I know all these things are material. The most important thing is that I love the person I married and that we have built a life together. Hind sight is 20/20 and once all those incidental memories melt away I remember the really important things that happened that day. I remember driving to the wedding with my dad alone and what we talked about. I remember feeling like a princess as my sister in law applied my makeup and my bridesmaids helped me get into my dress. I remember the moment I walked down the aisle and how I felt like I was sitting above watching the whole thing happen. I remember locking eyes with Chris and I remember realizing that we would be together forever.

Righteous Dude

2010-02-16T17:42:00.000-08:00

I am finding myself frustrated in the fact that so many people judge me on my faith. Really that people in general make a decision about a person's goodness based on how much they love God or if they regard the Bible as the holy grail. What I think is the most interesting is that the Bible is packed full of advice and counsel on accepting others, yet those people that hold the book closest to their heart judge those that aren't as outwardly faithful as lesser beings. The fact is that every person has the potential to offer wisdom and strength no matter what their thoughts or beliefs are regarding God. Church and praying do not make one person better or stronger over another. Those things are like accessories to the real faith that is out there. Accessories are important fashion statements that enhance the overall outfit but are not completely necessary. I want people to find what they need to be strong and if that means worshiping a God in a church then perfect for them. But there are other ways to be a good person. There are other ways to have faith in the future and the past. There are other ways to figure out how to make it through the hardships and how to enjoy the goodness life has to offer. Before taking the time and energy to see people in a lesser way because they haven't found faith in the same way you have remember faith is in the eye of the beholder.

Making a Comeback

2010-02-12T09:52:00.000-08:00

Some things that make a comeback should really stay in the past. Things like leg warmers and neon pink mini skirts should just stay in the back of the closet. Big hair and Pac Man should be put in a locked box and the key should be tossed out to sea. One thing I think really needs to make a smashing comeback though is me. When I was a little kid I always felt like I was climbing a mountain inside. Struggling up each rock scraping my knees on the way. I was shy. Terrifyingly so. I worked hard to have friends and even harder to build some self confidence. Although I slowly gained some leverage and slowly kept climbing I never really felt comfortable in my own skin. When I hit college I began to real figure out who I was. My grades soared and I felt independent and like I could make a difference. I graduated and found a job doing work that was important both to me and to the children I was teaching. I got married and we bought a house and it was all new and the beginning. It was like I was on stage singing a hit single. When I had kids that was wonderful and also a beginning. What I didn't realize was that when I had my kids I would put myself backstage. I would willingly give them my best parts and in the process come to a stand still on my own climb. The past 12 years have been about them. I have poured everything I could into them and I see it every day. I am proud of what they are becoming and I love each of them for who they are because of me. Yet I am beginning to feel uncertain in my skin again and feel like I need to make a comeback. I want to start where I left off and begin that up hill battle again. Not to say I am done being a parent to my children but in fact exactly the opposite. I feel like it is time for them to see me in a new light. Someone who has confidence and isn't scared to be in the spotlight in the middle of the stage.

All Views Accepted Here

2010-02-09T07:49:00.000-08:00

I am at a loss for words (but I'm NOT) over the lack of diversity in people. I am probably a little naive in the respect that I thought it was good to surround yourself with people that are different then yourself. To gather different perspectives and reflect on unique and varying views on topics. To teach our children that differences make the world go around. Differences of opinion are a part of life and everyone is entitled to their own. The hard part is finding it in yourself to respect other people regardless of varied viewpoints.

I myself would never drop anyone as a friend on Facebook because they are a fan of Sarah Palin even though I think she is an imbecile. Instead I like to hear why people are attracted to her and what they see in her. I embrace the opportunity to listen to different sides of every story. Disagree and dislike are certainly two different words and concepts. Just because I disagree with someone does not automatically mean I dislike them. So what that I 100% support the fact that two consenting adults should be allowed to legally marry regardless of their sexual orientation...that doesn't make me want to shelter myself from others who might think differently. It also doesn't make me want to censor my own views and opinions just to avoid discussion.

I actually enjoy having friends who have different beliefs then I do. Variety is the spice of life. How boring it would be if we all wore the same color clothes or if we only ate one food day in and day out?? Really boring. It is so sad that people like to put themselves in a tiny box and refuse to, even for a minute, think of what could be waiting for them outside those four brown cardboard walls. If everyone wasn't so interested in following the herd think of all the diversity we could expose ourselves and our children to. Think of all the things we might have a chance to learn.

The Colander Effect

2010-02-06T10:08:00.000-08:00

Through the years we all come into contact with hundreds of people. We meet new people through all sorts of daily activities. We casually interact with people at work, during church and at our kid's schools. We move to neighborhoods and immerse ourselves in an environment with people in our own general place in life. Most of those people end up being casual acquaintances or one time hellos. As all these people are sifted through the colander a few are too important to fall through the holes. These people are the ones that for some important reason end up being more then just passers by. They are the people that we are drawn to and end up finding a connection to. The people we want to keep close to us and feel an intense need to integrate them into our lives. The people who you want to dance with at your wedding and hope will speak at your funeral. The reasons behind why these people are the ones we are drawn to over the others is unclear. There is a sort of unspoken mystery that connects us with those certain people. The kind of connection that can't be broken.

Top Ten Reasons I Hate Snow

2010-02-05T08:20:00.000-08:00

Top Ten Reasons I Hate Snow

10) Snow is bitter, cold and wet. Even if you have to go out in it for a minute or two your eyes water and your nose runs. It is miserable and annoying. Not to mention the whole process to get dressed appropriately and you have to actually wear a coat, hat and gloves. A snowball in the face? Worse then a punch as far as I am concerned.

9) Snow is hard to drive on. Driving is dangerous enough when you have the best weather conditions. Now you have to drive on a slippery white substance spread across the road. No one can drive on the snow either. A few flakes drop and everyone turns into an idiot. They either turn into old lady drivers and drive 20 on the freeway or continue their normal speed of 80 in the 60 mile an hour speed zone. Either way the snow creates anxiety and frustration on the roads.

8) Playing in the snow. The kids think they want to go outside and play in it for hours. First I have to locate the snow clothes that are packed away. Then I bundle them up in layer after layer and head outside only to be back inside before 10 minutes are up. They are all wet and whiney. They want hot chocolate and dry gloves to go back out for another 10 minutes. They drag wet snow in and it melts everywhere. I walk in it in my socks and get mad.

7) Snow makes you gain weight. Not the snow exactly but a side effect of the white fluffy crap. When it snows a lot you can't get out of your house. It is bitter cold. You basically sit in your house bundled up in a Snuggie, craving warm savory meals dripping in butter and sauces. Yummy freshly baked cookies and bread. Heck since you can't go anywhere in the snow you might as well try some new recipes. The snow forces you to pack on at least 10 pounds every winter.

6) Walking outside to get the paper or mail. It is like an ice rink out there. I slip and slide and eventually fall on my butt. My clothes get wet and I have a bruised butt and worse yet a bruised ego especially if a neighbor happened to be driving by.

5) Hat head and a red nose. I look more like a clown then usual.

4) Snow Blower Envy. I live on a corner and have more sidewalk to shovel then anybody else. All of my neighbors have snow blowers and I have envy every time it snow. Shoveling snow just sucks but so does paying several hundred dollars for a piece of equipment I (or more accurately my husband) only use two or three times a year.

3) Dirty Snow. For the first few minutes after it stops snowing it looks beautiful, then a car drives by and you have dirty snow. Dirty snow is just ugly.

2) Power outages, high gas bills and potholes OH MY.

And my number ONE reason I HATE snow!

1) Snow days. School gets cancelled and the kids wake up earlier then they would normally. They sit around the house and tell me how bored they are. If they miss more then 3 days for snow then they have to make them up at the end of the school year when the grades are already turned in and the summer has already started in their minds. I bet if I piled my kids on a sled, put on my snow shoes and bundled up I could get them the mile and a half to school in a jiffy.

Experience is Key

2010-02-03T16:23:00.001-08:00

It always amazes me how history tends to repeat itself. Sometimes in different forms but always with the same message. The girls have had chores for years. Simple stuff like feeding the cats or unloading the dishwasher. In the last few months we have given them some more complex things to do. For some reason I caught myself redoing the things that they had done because they weren't done right all the while grumbling about having to do everything myself. By right I mean the way I do them. That realization made me cringe. It made me remember another time when I felt my way was the right way. When we had our first baby eleven and a half years ago I used to literally walk behind Chris and redo everything he tried to do. I would re-wash, re-diaper and re-feed Caroline. He could do nothing right no matter how hard he tried. I dismissed him and his efforts outwardly while inwardly tearing my hair out over all my responsibility. The closer I got to having a complete mental breakdown the harder my grip became on the control of how things had to be. After I got some sleep and Caroline got a little older I did loosen my hold a little and with each baby after that I let Chris do more. I remember having to consciously remove myself from the room and let him take some of the control. He might not have done things the way I would have done them. He might not have done them the right way. The kids were always happy and warm and safe. They had the love and attention of their Daddy. He had the time to gain experience and learn. I had time to sleep or read or bathe. It really was a win-win situation. Back to now and the chores. The memory of me back then was like a slap in the face. I know that the girls are doing the work. They are being responsible and doing it without being asked. They might not be doing it exactly right but it is getting done and I don't have to do it, again a win-win situation. Experience is the best teacher. They are learning and so am I.

Weighing In.

2010-02-01T12:10:00.000-08:00

I realized this morning that I have been having a fight with someone who lives in my bathroom for as long as I can remember. Someone who taunts me with his cold metal and flashing digital lights. No matter what numbers pop up on Mr. Scale, I want to pick him up claw off the numbers and toss him out the window. The fact that I am 25 lbs lighter this year then I was last really doesn't seem to matter. The numbers are never small enough. As women we see thinness as a badge that signifies something better then what we are. When we see someone thin we see that as a sign that they are happy and that their life is easy. The ability to be skinny signifies to us or maybe just to me that a person is able to have self control and therefore every aspect in their lives is under control. When I sit and think about this I realize that it is bizarre and ignorant. The size that you are has no bearing on what kind of life you lead. As a matter of fact people who look like they have it all together are very likely the one with things spinning out of control. Somehow society has managed to blind us to logic though and judging a person by their physical appearance happens. The story about 23 year old actress Heidi Montag that has been in the news due to the many plastic surgeries she has had over the last year is a great example. She had 10 0r 11 different procedures done all at the same time. All to change things about herself that she didn't like. Her chin and her nose and her boobs. She pinned her ears back so she could look good with her hair up when she walks on the red carpet. She even said something to the effect of she is just starting out and no where near done with the cosmetic work she wants to have done. She has control over all these alterations. She can create whatever face she can afford. She was a pretty, young, thin girl before any of the surgeries but she obviously could not see that when she looked in the mirror. I just wonder if what is going on inside that she can't control will ever be addressed. The things that make her want to change herself into someone that her old self wouldn't even recognize. Come to think of it why would any of us want to do that?

Constructive or Destructive?

2010-01-27T17:03:00.000-08:00

We all want reassurance in our lives. Everyone likes to hear someone tell them what a great job they have done or how fantastic they are. So we ask opinions. We say we want want to know honest reactions. The problem is when you put yourself out there for judgement the reaction can never be all positive. No matter how constructive criticism is it is still finding flaws in whatever it is you are doing. Criticism of any kind can be destructive if you let it overcome you. On the other hand finding the constructive part within the critical part can open a whole new door into what you can achieve. Once you wallow past the initial embarrassment and irritation of someone finding negative parts to your work you can let yourself digest the advice and use it to better yourself and your craft. People who are unable to do this often fail to reach for new and different goals. The hardest part for me is facing the person who gives me harsh, constant criticism. The person that forgets to add the constructive part or if they do it is so far hidden I can't seem to find it no matter how hard I search. Me.

Words are Worse then Sticks and Stones.

2010-01-25T16:39:00.000-08:00

You know those moments in time that seem to form who you are?? The ones that make you who you are and help explain what you are about. One of those moments in time that you can trace back years or decades that made you face something about yourself that was lurking below the surface. I remember so clearly when that happened to me. It was the summer before high school started. I had all the high hopes and popular dreams that most girls that age have. Going to a new school, starting fresh with no preconceived notions hanging over your head. You could be who and what you wanted. I was taking a walk with a friend and we were fantasizing about how great and exciting the school year would be. We were walking along , our heads in the clouds, when a old rusty clunker bumped by with the horn honking. We both turned and looked and saw a car full of high school boys. They slowed down and circled around and came back toward us. They clearly pointed at my friend and hooted and hollered. They whistled and yelled about her cute butt and her flowing hair. Then they turned to me and started laughing. They yelled and pointed at me too. Instead of saying things that were complimentary they told me I was fat and over sized. That I walked like a horse and my hair was too short. They were out of sight before the sound of their voices echoing left my ears. Their words would never leave my head. Not when I walked into school the first day. Not when I attempted to try out for volleyball. Not when I met new people. Those things they said were just words to them but to me they spurred an insecurity that has been my soul mate all my life. Every time I look in the mirror I think of their words. Every time I get my hair cut I remember what they said. I am sure everyone has heard the childhood rhyme.. " Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me." It is WRONG. It is a lie. Words do hurt. They are so powerful. They can tear people down or they can build them up. They can cure someone or curse them. Choosing words carefully has become an important way of life for me. I watch what I say so I don't inflict pain. I want my kids to think before they speak as well. Words are a tool. They can build things or they can tear things down.

Out of the Rubble

2010-01-20T18:05:00.000-08:00

Seeing all the horrific images in Haiti this week has really made me start thinking about what matters. We stress about money, either having it or not having it. We worry about being thinner and faster and smarter. The details seem to litter the path to what really matters. Those people in the earthquake that lost their lifetime in a matter of seconds probably wish they had focused on the things that they know matter now.

We seem to let all the stuff like apathy, pride, embarrassment, insecurity, fear, get in the way of the things that really matter; people-loved ones, friends and family. We let our own things get in the way of telling those that matter how we feel and what they mean to us. Why do we as humans wait for tragedy, sickness or even death before we begin to realize what really matters? We rationalize and justify our behavior in every day life and it becomes an accepted practice. We bury all our emotions as far down as possible and only let them out when faced with finality. I am wondering why I am investing so much time and energy into things that don't matter and neglecting the things that do. It is time to start sifting through the rubble and unearthing the important stuff. I need to figure out what and who matter and what I am going to do about it. How about you?