An Arguement for Human Cloning

This past weekend was packed full of activities for our family. It is nice to be busy, but it is not great to have to chose who is going to what events. Especially when it is choosing between two really fun and meaningful events. This is why human cloning really needs to happen. (Human cloning does not need to happen for meetings or appointments, just for fun stuff). This past weekend was my daughter's first marching band competition of the season. It was also my adorable niece's 3rd birthday (She lives 3 hours away with my fabulous sister & charming brother-in-law. They are some of my favorite people of all time.) I am not being even slightly dramatic when I say it was a "Sophie's Choice" moment trying to decide what to do. Once again the "divide & conquer" strategy had to be employed. I went with my son to the birthday party. My husband went with my daughter to the marching band competition.  And we all reconnected Sunday afternoon. We shared all the funny and silly things that happened at each of the events.

I would like to say this was just perfect, and we were all thrilled. The truth is we all enjoyed our weekend activities, but we all lost out on being together as a family. If we each had a clone, we could have done it all, TOGETHER. All of us could have arrived at the birthday party and laughed at the antics of a three year old, sang songs with her, and enjoyed the family fun. AND...All of us could have gone to the marching competition and watch the band take first place in there division. We would not have to divide & conquer, we could clone & go.

I am currently ignoring the downside of having a clone (i.e. having to clean up after myself and my clone. My clone borrowing my shoes, when my daughter already does...And what if her clone borrows my shoes too??? Oh the humanity!!!) There would probably be more problems caused by having a spare husband, son, daughter, and self. It would probably end poorly. However, maybe for one weekend I would not feel so out of the loop on one side of my life, and yet so thrilled that I got to have a sing-along with my niece & son. I want it all. (and I kind of want a clone too)

Walking on the Wildside

We had a deer in our fenced, suburban backyard this morning. It was the strangest thing that has happened all week  month. I am not completely surprised that the deer found its way into our yard. Deer are good jumpers. I also saw a deer wandering the neighborhood last week. It was walking in the street (which I did think was odd. Deer should not walk on pavement). Anyway, at 6:15am I went to let Ninja (the greyhound) outside and she immediately took off toward the pine tree. Any other day, a rabbit springs out from under the tree, the dog chases the rabbit around the yard, snatches the rabbit in her mouth, snaps its neck, drops the rabbit, and proceeds to go potty before returning to the house for her breakfast of kibble. Honestly, this is what happens. I pick up and dispose of dead rabbits on the regular. I used to get upset and plead with Ninja to not chase and kill rabbits. First of all, dogs are a lot of great things, but reasonable listeners...not a strength. If it moves, Ninja will chase it. So I let her follow her natural urge to kill at the expense of the rabbit population, which seems to be doing well in spite of Ninja's frequent reduction efforts.

Now the deer, which is considerably larger that Ninja, was a different story. Yes, she chased it. However, the deer stopped. Ninja did not. She plowed into the side of the deer. This scared my sweet little rabbit murderess. So much that she returned to the house, not stopping to potty. Nope, she ran into the house, and curled up into a dog ball and did not move for 15 minutes. She who kills rabbits on the regular, was reduced to a quivering dog ball by a deer. So much for being the apex predator of the backyard. It seem now the local hoofed herbivores own the place.

Not being one to over react, I called 911 and clearly said, "I am not sure if this qualifies as a real emergency".

The dispatcher did not even ask me anything, she just said, "I am transferring you to the non-emergency line."

It would have been nice if she could have helped me sort it out, just a little. I had a traumatized dog in my house, and a deer in my fenced in backyard. That felt like an emergency to me. If not a full blown emergency, it is at least an extreme oddity for this suburban community. None the less, I was transferred to a desk police officer. I explained my extraordinary circumstances. He was unimpressed. Or should I say the tone in his voice said he was unimpressed. Honestly, I am not sure what is going on in this town that makes deer hanging out in backyards seem "normal". It is not. I live a well-populated, developed neighborhood. The extent of creatures, up until one week ago (the initial deer sighting) are as follows: birds, squirrels, chipmunks, skunks, rabbits, occasional ducks & Canadian geese, toads, snakes, and bugs. Some evidence of raccoons has been noted, but I have never actually seen the offending raccoon, it could just be some over zealous skunks. Deer, no. Not normal. Very out of the ordinary. However the local law enforcement, unimpressed.

Here is how the call went down:
(I was standing on my deck staring at the deer the entire call. Why? I am not completely sure.)

Officer: Police. How can I help?

Me: There is a deer in my fenced in backyard. It has terrified my dog. How can get it out?

Officer: Is the deer alive.

Me: Very much so.

Officer: Is the deer injured? Does it appear it has been struck by a car?

Me: Not at all. It seems quite healthy.

Officer: Well, then it will jump the fence and leave when it feels like it.

Me: My dog is terrified.

Officer: Ma'am, keep the dog in the house until the deer exits your yard.

Me: That is all???

Officer: Yes. Have a good day.

Me: Uhhh. Thanks? Good-bye.

Now I can not be sure what types of calls that the local fuzz generally receive, but clearly wildlife emergencies are not cause for great alarm. Perhaps he wakes up to herds of deer in his yard. I have never experienced such a thing in the metro area. Who knows, maybe my slightly panicked call this morning is now station house fodder. Maybe I am the crazy lady that called before 7am with a non-emergency emergency. I honestly do not care. I find the cavalier attitude towards large woodland creatures in fenced backyards disturbing. And the lack of caring toward my traumatized dog? Well that is just plain insensitive.

Here is to living in the Wild West(ern) Suburbs!

Note: The deer jumped into the neighbors yard after I started taking pictures. I was hoping it would neatly eat the grass over there to a respectable length, and perhaps trim up around the trees and fence line. That did not happen.

Consciously Annoyed

Have you ever wondered how much further Gwenyth Paltrow can get up her own ass? She will certainly find any polyps on her own colon. I have done a great job of ignoring her "lifestyle" website, and generally ridiculous life choices (i.e. naming a child "Apple"). However, recently she has pulled two very public displays of cluelessness that have shaken me from my silence.

1. Her desire to call her divorce from Chris Martin a "conscious uncoupling" is the limit. You can call things whatever you want in your little special world, but I am pretty sure if you want your "conscious uncoupling" to be legal, you will need to sign a decree of divorce. No matter what you call it, your kids are still probably not happy that mom & dad are not together. I have no opposition to divorce, or interest in telling people how to live their lives. I do have a problem with people making up kinder, gentler, fuzzy terms for things that are not. Divorce is real. It happens to half of people who get married. People handle the dissolution of their unions in many ways. If Gwennie and Chris want to keep their divorce friendly, great. That is the best choice for your kids and for your state of mind. However, making up new, happy words for something does not make it any more clear for your kids. Along with having wedgie inducing names, now they can sound pretentious saying, "My mum and dad are consciously uncoupled". It is silly. It is pretentious. Using such ridiculous terms makes the general public "involuntarily regurgitate in our oral cavities, a little"
2. Gwenyth also seems to believe being an actress is so much more difficult that being a mom who works a regular 9-5 job. Click here to read the wonderful Open Letter to Ms. Paltrow about how completely horrific her working conditions must be. All of America, no, all of the world feels your pain. It must be difficult having homes on different continents and managing a staff of nannies and assistants. We feel your pain. We all shake our heads and wonder how you manage. Poor thing, and all while going through a conscious uncoupling.

Perhaps we should have a telethon to raise money for a cure for Chronic Cranium Rectumitis? There is clearly a very fine celebrity sufferer that can be the poster girl for the cause.  

I Admire You

I do not use the word "admire" very often.  Correction, I use the word "admire" often, but generally in a sarcastic and snarky way where it pretty much means the opposite.  However today, I am talking true admiration for a special group of people.  People I really did not know existed. A very rare breed of people.  These people are divorced people that co-parent and treat each other with respect, kindness, and a genuine caring. One former couple that I know does this amazingly well.  We have same aged kids in activities together so we encounter each other often.  I knew this couple divorced several years ago.  My husband did not realize they were divorced until a few weeks ago when their child said something about "at my dad's house" in front of my beloved.  This prompted some questions later to clear up his confusion.  Here are the reasons he believed them to be married...

• They sit by each other at events
• They talk and laugh with each other
• Their kids are good and well adjusted (this is based on observation, they could be monsters at home, but he has never seen it)
• They speak kindly about each other

(Okay, maybe the above does not seem like remarkable stuff, but my beloved and I really love each other and often just sit in silence with each other at public events (and on our own couch).  It is not an uncomfortable silence.  We just do not feel like talking.)

I have always believed this un-couple was just a anomaly, pretty much two peace doves in the the world of divorce that has so many acrimonious vultures.  I admire them.  I do not admire that they are not together anymore, but the fact that they have risen above whatever caused them to divorce to be parents to their kids first, is beautiful.

Just a few days ago I found out another one of my daughter's friends has peacefully divorced parents as well. I would have never guessed they were not together, for pretty much the same reasons my beloved listed above for the other super un-couple.  Kindness, respect, and genuine caring can be felt around these co-parents.  How did these people learn to put the resentment and other broken relationship garbage away?  It is so unselfish.  It is so admirable.

I am not sure if I could be that kind and respectful if I were divorced from my beloved.  The very ugly truth about me is, I like to be right, and I like to win.  I fight with these truths about myself.  Constantly asking myself;  is "being right" is worth the fight?  No, is generally the correct answer.  However, when I am hurt or feeling insecure (the type of feelings very present in a broken relationship), it is challenging for me to not fall back into "being right" and "win at all costs" mode.  Human nature is real jerk sometimes.

I admire those people who have decided (I honestly believe they have made a very deliberate choice) to be friendly with their ex-spouse.  Whether their kids know it now, or maybe will only realize it much later, their mom and dad put them first.  These co-parents put aside their brokenness in favor of their kids' completeness.  This is something I can truly admire.

Mistakes & Myths

A life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing. --George Bernard Shaw

Does anyone else subscribe to the Oprah Magazine daily e-mail?  Please say you do, I need to feel some community in my in-adequateness.  I subscribed years ago, when Oprah still had her talk show.  I was an occasional watcher.  I like her interview style, and she really does like a lot of cool stuff, so the "Favorite Things" shows always sucked me in hard.  Anyway, each day I get an e-mail about "Living My Best Life", no harm in trying to be the best me I can be, right?  Life coaching and guidance through the inbox.  Good stuff.  Lately most of the titles contain the word "mistakes" or "myths".

The Six  Hair Mistakes (hint: quit talking to your hairdresser, you are compromising your hairstyle)

The Ten Biggest Relationship Mistakes (oddly sharing to many common interests, and not sharing common interests are both no-nos)

The Biggest Mistakes Women Make When Dieting (Creating too much of a calorie deficit through under eating and over exercising.)

5 Diet Myths Making You Gain Weights (as told by Dr. Oz...do not even get me started) He restates the above "diet mistake" and you need to quit diet soda.

4 Myths About Anti-Depressants (also by Oz) (they are not "happy pills")

So this is the stuff that greets me every morning in my inbox.  All the myths I am believing and mistakes I am making.  It becomes a game to see what I am doing right.  In reading all the myths and mistakes, which are meant to help guide one to being better, or making better choices, a person can, at the least, get rather confused, and at the worst, start feeling like a colossal hot mess.

Lately, I have started to think making mistakes is fine. Is it really so bad to believe in myths?  As a kid I pretty damn happy believing in Santa and the Tooth-fairy.  Loot rolled in.  Life was good.  Granted, the Santa myth is rather harmless, and harboring other false beliefs can be more dangerous.  I guess the whole thing with "Myth Lists" is you sometimes feel like a dummy for not realizing you were off the mark.  However, mistakes are not bad.  Mistakes are some of life's best teachers.

Do not fear mistakes. You will know failure. Continue to reach out. --Benjamin Franklin

 As a mother of a teen daughter I am very guilty of trying to keep her from making mistakes.  (I admit I am a huge hypocrite, and she knows it)  Sure, there are some things that  through sharing stories can help teach and mold.  I certainly do not want her to learn not to drink and drive by getting in a horrific crash.  I do not want her to OD and go to rehab to learn that drugs are dangerous.  The big mistakes I am perfectly willing to share news articles, and other sources to help impress that these are mistakes she does not even want to dabble with.  It is the smaller, but still painful, stuff  that I struggle to not lecture upon.  Most of this involves relationships. Things like, putting to much caring and trust in people that will not reciprocate.  Liking someone who does not even have a inkling of clue how awesome she is as a person.  Believing the myths someone tells to get what they want.  Believing the myth that it does not matter. I never want her to have her heart broken.  I want her to never make mistakes that will hurt.  When I write that I see how absurd it sounds.  Mistakes do hurt.  Some hurt worse than others.  Some myths, like Santa, are harmless, and some are far more insidious.
 
I mock the Oprah Magazine site for sending me lists of mistakes not to make, and myths not to believe so I can I have my "best life".  As if you can really "learn life" from reading an article, or attending a lecture. All the while, I am doing the same thing.  I want to lecture and curate the perfect easy, breezy high school experience for my daughter.  Perhaps that is the big myth I need dispelled.  High school is neither easy, or breezy.  It is a bunch of confused half-adult, half-children wandering about trying to figure out what the heck is happening to them. I just happen to have a very serious interest in only one of these half & half creatures.  I want to send her a list of mistakes not make, and myths to disregard.  I want her to read each bit of information and wisdom as if it were heaven sent.  It is not.  It is just from a person was there, made mistakes, got hurt, got up, and did better the next time.  I would not give up any of it because it helped me become wise.  However, now I have to watch one of the most important people in my life make mistakes, get hurt, get up, and do better the next time.  I need to let her become wise.  You can not give wisdom, you have to earn it.

And no lists or articles in the world could have ever, even remotely, prepared me for this.  

The Name Game

One thing that brings me great pride is my ability to remember people's names.  How I do it?  I am not sure.  My memory is pretty solid when it comes to recalling information specific to people.  I can not remember phone numbers, mathematical formulas, or where my car keys are located.  However, names and faces lock in really well.  Okay, until yesterday.  I was at a meeting for an upcoming marching band competition that is being hosted at my daughter's school.  It was a meeting of all the volunteers.  Meetings and I have a rocky relationship.  I tend to only listen for what I may need to know for my specific position, and ignore the rest.  The game I chose to play last night to keep my facial expressions looking engaged and attentive was, Match the Kid and Parent.  It is fun game.  The kids were all out practicing, so it was more challenging.  Glancing around the room, there were actually many parents I had not met, but not letting that deter me, I studied features and decided who the offspring may be.  (I can not be 100% sure how I scored on the match game since the meeting dismissed before practice and some of the parents escaped).  However, I became distressed when it came to another freshman parent, I know we have been introduced.  I remembered the child's name, and the wife's name (she was not even at the meeting), but the dad's name was gone.  No where could I recall it.  It fell out of my brain. Very frustrating for a person that considers them self a name recalling savant.  I should have been able to shrug this off, but then a sign-up sheet came around and I needed to pass it to "the forgotten-name dad", and he was looking the other direction and did not see the sheet next to him.  Such panic for me. What do I do???

Do I call him Mr. (and the last name which I do remember)?  No, that sounds so teacher-like and not something you do unless your kid is right next to you.

Do I poke him in the arm with a sheet of paper?  No, that is weird.

Do I wait for him to turn around? No, the paper will stop circulating (I like progress to much)

No, I went for the cheap cop out, "Psst...Jack's* Dad".  It worked.  The paper continued to circulate.  However, I am now "that person".  The person who calls people, publicly, by their children's name.

I am not sure if any offense was taken.  Personally, it does not bother me when people call me by my child's name followed by "mom".  I am proud to be their mom. It is an honor.  Frankly, there are so many worse things to be called.  However, I am not sure everyone feels the same.

Being a name recalling savant (up until yesterday), I am not sure how to proceed to relearn this person's name.  I know people I have met several times still ask me my name.  It is annoying for me, but I know many people do not have name recall, so I reintroduce myself (sometimes several times).  It hurts to be so utterly forgettable (not really).  The hardest thing for me is admitting that sometimes my memory for names is fallible.  Ouch, that hurt to write.  Name recall is one of my major functions in my relationship with my beloved.  He is okay with names, but pales in comparison to his name-recall genius wife.  Driving to social engagements it is my job to give him a refresher on who is who.  Pairing the spouses, naming the kids, telling professions...all that stuff.  My beloved is sometimes baffled at how I can spout all of this information, yet forget to buy peanut butter at the grocery, or balance my checkbook (Honestly, I have no idea either, it is just the stuff that sticks in my brain).  We have a great system where I will greet people with their names at events so he can always appear to know who is who. (I share the genius)

Example:
Me: Oh Mary! Great to see you.  Is Bill with you tonight? (best way to pair and locate a partner, who also my have found the open bar. Priorities)
My Beloved: Nice to see you, Mary.  I am going to see Bill.

This is generally a foolproof system, unless Mary and Bill have just filed for divorce.  In which case, I sort of step in it on occasion.  At least I am not poking them in the arm with paper, or asking for their name for the 10th time.

I am going to have to suck it up and ask for re-introduction, or insist my daughter quit the marching band to spare me the shame.  I am going to be so annoyed with myself if it turns out I forgot a name like Mike, Jim, Dan, Tom, Bob, or Dave. (Those are my top six  guessing names)  I am not sure if anyone else on the planet even has "guessing names".  Most people just say, "Sorry, I can not recall your name".  Perhaps no one else has elevated names to an actual game.  



*Name changed.  I do not use the real names of minors, even my own kids on this blog. Ever.

Under Construction: the teen years

Betsy, my sister, and I were recently having a conversation, and then an e-mail exchange about a teen situation with my daughter.  My maternal confidentiality code keeps me from elaborating too much, but it is a typical teen thing.  Nothing dangerous.  Nothing that a few years, some red wine (for me, not my child), and many more sister talks will not remedy.  One of my responses to my very wise social worker sister, was that it seems my daughter is under construction right now.  Everything is messy, loud, and the dust gets kicked up, but when the construction is done, she is going to be really something magnificent.  However, right now I am living in a construction zone.  And the contractor is taking His sweet time getting the project done.  Okay, I know everything good is worth the wait.  I am not wishing time away.  I am not.  It just gets tough living with a teen.  They are irritable, hormonal, and often confrontational.  They can also be sweet, generous, kind, and compassionate.  The trick is figuring out who is coming out of that ransacked room on any given morning.  Or who will walk back in the front door after school.  It is impossible to know.  It could be an angel, or it could be the anti-Christ.  (I exaggerate, because I can, and the other "a" word I was thinking of was not much better).  Either way she is my child and I love her.

I love her smile, and her frown.
I love her hopefulness, and her despair.
I love her laughter, and her tears.
I love her joyful shouts, and her angry rants.

Some say I have to because I am her mother, it is my job.  Even on the days when it feels like I am parenting two of her, the "good one" and the Incredible Hulk.  It will all pass.  She is learning how to navigate the world with more independence.  Sometimes it is awesome, sometimes it is awesomely frustrating.  I get it.  I have been there.  In many ways I am just as frustrated.  I want to have bouts of tears, and yell too.  I want to fix the problems. I want to tell her how to do everything so it will work out.  I can't,  because then she will never figure out that she has the solution to problems, the big ones and the small ones.  It is my job to keep my cool, and drop casual advice (like clues for a scavenger hunt, just enough to get her in the right direction, but not solving the riddles completely)   When dealing with teens it is best to stay calm, even if it is a false calm at times.  Many days are "fake it 'til you make it" around here.

It would be cruel to use the words "hot mess" to describe this phase of human development, but sometimes the truth hurts.  Most of us grow out our hot messiness.  Sure, there are some people that are still living the drama of the hot mess life, I am not going let my daughter be that person.  I will tolerate her dust, and the commotion caused by her growing into who she is meant to be.  I will also appreciate and celebrate all of the beautiful milestones and achievements the next few years will bring.  Taking the good with the bad.

She is under construction, pardon the dust.

Marching Band Rules

My very musically gifted daughter has joined her high school's marching band.  Okay, she pretty much joined it back in June, that is how long the band has been meeting and practicing.  They practice a lot.  A LOT.  Long practices.  Frequent practices.  Many, many, many practices.  They went away to camp, the whole lot of them, and practiced playing and marching and moving.  They are pretty good.  I say this with a completely untrained eye and ear.  I never marched.  I attempted to play musical instruments, with little success, even though I was stationary in a chair the entire time.  I am not musical.  I am creative, and gifted in other ways.  I can make up alternate lyrics to almost any song (the pitch of the signing is sketchy).  I can write simple poems.  I write this blog (although I am not sure if that qualifies as "being creative", but I write and people understand what I write.  The word on the street is, not everyone can write in a way people understand their message.).   Non-musical mom says this marching band is pretty good.  Mom who is rather sick of driving back and forth says, "They better be good for all the practicing they do.  For all the practicing, they should be marching down the streets of Pasadena on New Year's Day in the blessed Rose Bowl Parade".  Sick of driving mom is pretty grouchy, but she has a solid point.

Marching Band, from my rookie marching parent perspective, seems to have a set of rules.  Not necessarily written rules, but rules like prison.  Unwritten, sometimes unspoken rules, that you must figure out to move seamlessly among the other inmates marching parents.  I am not sure if a veteran marching parent will shiv you for messing up, or breaking a rule, but they may shun you or talk behind your back.  (I am a direct kind of girl.  I may prefer a shiv between the shoulder blades).  Anyway, here are the rules I have surmised thus far:

Marching Band Rules

1. The band will compete in competitions.  When you ask what exactly marching band competitions are,  you will be told, "Competitions are so much fun".  When you try to get beyond "the fun" aspects, you will be asked to drive several marchers to the competition, and help haul props out on the field for performances.  That sounds like work, I am not sure where any fun will be had . 
2. Practice begins fifteen minutes before the stated time. 
3. Practice ends ten to fifteen minutes later than the stated time. 
4. The drums are always playing.  Percussionist do not care, they never did.  I am curious to see what the walls must look like in a drummer's home.  God bless those parents.
5. The Marching Band will always be doing some type of fundraiser. I could go on a preach on how the Arts are underfunded, and it is a shame.  I could tell you how playing an instrument is connected with higher achievement in math.  I won't.  I will just try to sell you some festive holiday greenery, or flowers in the spring.
6. To be in band your student must purchase shirts indicating their class, their section, and the show they are performing this season in the band.  The student will hit up the parents for the money.
7. Band Parents are to wear shirts indicating they are part of the marching band.
8. Band Parents sit near the band at football games.
9. Your marcher will be tired all the time, but still want to attend the frequent, long practices
10. You will ALWAYS be able to see your marcher (and they will look the best) even though the goal is for the whole band to blend together as a single moving force.

I know this much to be true of marching band.  I alternately hate and love the marching band.  When viewing the family calendar and seeing how many days it takes up, or having to go on vacation without my daughter because she was at band camp during the summer, or seeing her blistered feet that she will continue to march upon...I hate it.  However, when I hear her talk about the new friendships she has made, and sit in the stands on a Friday night, under the lights and see her take the field playing and moving forward, backward, and side to side whilst playing her clarinet...well, then I really love the marching band.  She is learning to use her time wisely, work hard, and be a team player.  All of those things will serve her well academically and socially.  Sure, I still have to figure out all the marching band rules.  I will have to do fundraisers.  I will drive the wheels off my car.  But maybe, just maybe, someday I will say, Marching Band, RULES!!! 

(maybe) 

Busy Rebelling

This week I have been too busy, not that I like it, or I am proud of it.  I am not.  Busy is like a disease sometimes.  If you do not do anything to stop it, it just gets worse.  The more you do, the more people ask you to do, the more you agree to do, and if you are highly competent you can plan on having plans everyday for eternity (okay, I exaggerate a bit). In general Americans seem very proud to be overly busy.  I have friends (and I love them dearly) that will open up their calendar or their calendar app, and show how insanely packed their days and weekends are for the next month or two months.  At times I feel as if they are challenging me to a "busy off".  I am not taking the bait.  I am not proud when my time is double and triple booked.  I do not like to have to serve my family convenience foods, with crappy nutrition because I have spent my day running about, in meetings, or other busy tasks.  I want to enjoy my life.  I want to enjoy my kids.  I want to enjoy my husband.  And I do not want to schedule time to enjoy them.  How hurtful it must be to have your beloved say, "Get out your calendar and let us schedule time for a date night".

How about just spending time together, and paring down on all the extra stuff?  How about asking yourself what your priorities are, and being honest about it?  If something is a priority YOU WILL MAKE TIME FOR IT.  Your partner should not be made to feel like a dentist appointment that needs to be scheduled.  Being busy is just a very good excuse.  It is socially acceptable to be insanely busy.  The chronically busy are lauded as great, productive, and helpful people.  Yes, they are.  However, let us ask ourselves, at what cost?  Probably at the cost of their family, and their own inner peace.

I am not claiming to have it all figured out, but I am telling you, I am no longer proud to be busy.  "Busy-Bee" is not a badge of honor I want to wear.  I would rather be known for how many games I played with my kids, how many books I have read, how many lunches I have had with friends, how many inside jokes my beloved and I have, and a thousand other things that really matter.  I am starting my rebellion against being busy.

Precious Cargo

Okay...today I must give credit to old friend from high school for the topic. (Thanks Chris)  I was scrambling for something solid to write about, and nothing on my idea list was producing much inspiration (oddly, on another day I may fight over competing ideas...that is how it goes).  My solution was to ask for ideas from my FaceBook connections.  And BOOM, the perfect idea, a very common problem that most parents face either daily, or if they are lucky only on an occasion or two...THE SCHOOL PARKING LOT.

I am of the opinion that children are the future, and though I do earnestly believe my kids are the smartest, kindest, wittiest, and most precious of all the children on the planet, ALL CHILDREN ARE PRECIOUS AND SPECIAL.  However, I am forced to believe that not all parents hold the view that all children are precious. Why would I think that?  Because some parents drive like absolute fools in the parking lots of their children's school. Parents that drive with no regard for the little people walking around.  Parents with no regard for the safety of the other parents in lot.  Parents that are in such a hurry to get their kid to school and get to work, nothing else seems to matter.   I know school parking lots, and drop-off loops get rather congested and move slowly at drop off and pick up time.  But guess what?  Children move rather slowly when weighed down by backpacks, boots, snow-pants  and the posters of the solar-system.  At pick-up time, children get confused as to which vehicle belongs to their parent (all vehicles with three rows of seating do look similar).  And yes, children wander where they probably should not.  They are children, and they will learn.  Almost hitting them with your car, or honking will not speed this learning process.  School children are confused, but they are precious and special.  For those of you who believe that the middle school and high school parking lots will be better to manage, let go of this notion.  The same parents that drove like fools in the elementary parking lots will be driving like fools in the secondary school parking lots.  Not to mention, if you thought young children were confused; texting, hormonal teens are confused and conflicted.  Yes, I get frustrated in the parking lots at my children's schools, but unlike many, I am fine with driving slowly and watching for kids (because they are precious and special).  Call me crazy, but I think that all parents should do same thing.  Both of the schools that my kids attend send out letters and maps at the beginning of the school year that indicate traffic flow patterns, drop-off zones, and parent parking.  I find it helpful to follow these guides as if they were enforceable by law (they are not, but it keeps me honest, even when I am in a hurry).

Here are some helpful thoughts and guidelines for dealing with school parking lots.

1. Follow the recommended traffic and parking patterns.  If it does not make sense and you have a better idea that would improve traffic flow, write it up and propose it to the principal.  I am sure he/she would take it under consideration for the next school year.
2.  Drive slowly.  I have seen so many parents just gun the engine as soon as their child is out of vehicle and on the side walk.  Yes, it is now your time to get out of lot, and get on with your day, but other children are still in the lot.  It is a parking lot, not a drag strip.
3. Walk your really young ones to the building.  Kindergartners and first graders generally need parental guidance to get to the school building.  I have walked other people's young children to their entrance doors on several occasions because their parents dropped them off, pulled away, and never realized their child was uncertain of where to go.  Kids get confused sometimes.   
4. No swearing or gesturing.  I am not known for having the cleanest language on the planet, but even I can get in and out of a school parking lot without swearing out loud (I keep it all on the inside, with a pretty smile on my face).  Gestures are right out, completely unacceptable.  For the children, keep your road rage in check.
5. We all have somewhere else to go. No one wants to be jammed in the school lot.  Your job is no more important than other persons.  Leave your house earlier if you are in a time crunch.  Otherwise deal with it.
6. All of our kids are the most precious and special people in the world.  Watch out for all of them and keep them safe.

**There was no really good way to tie this personal account of the confused & conflicted teen in the post.  So here it is as a funny aside.  I was parked, in a parking space in my mini-van, at my daughter's school and a kid that was texting walked right into the side of van.  Not just at the front bumper, right into the side where passenger door is.  He looked up and saw me in the driver seat staring at him, and I was giggling (because it was hilarious).  He turned, walked away, and then tripped over one of those cement bumper things in the parking lot.  It was truly precious and special.  I fear natural selection may get that young fellow. 

Not Yet

Life moves pretty fast.  If you do not stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it. -Ferris Bueller

Do you ever have that moment when you realize time has flown by?  Recently I have had two situations that have caused the startling realization that time just zips by...pow...that fast.  When I was young it seems like time crawled.  The school day stretched endlessly (not in a good way).  It seemed like I was always waiting for something to end, and something else to begin, and the wait was torturous.  Time seemed to creep backward, if that was possible.  In my youth I truly believed that time was my slow moving enemy keeping from my future.  I am on record stating that I WAS WRONG.  Time is still my enemy, but because it is moving so damn fast.  I want to hit pause I so many things now.  A hug with my kids or my beloved (pause...make it last).  The silly times with friends over lunch or cup of coffee (pause...savor the moment).  It is the little things that are so precious.

Yoda in November 2012

Recently I had to put down my cat, Yoda.  She was seventeen years old, she had kidney disease, she was deaf, her eyesight was poor, she had a heart murmur...she was very old for a cat.  In the human equivalent to her 17 cat years is 96 years old.  Logically, it was time.  She was in pain.  She needed to be carried to her litter box.  We had to coax her to eat, unless it was her treats...she begged for those until the very end.  No matter how many people tell me that 17 years is a long time to have the same cat, I still do not believe it in my heart.  Seventeen years flew by with Yoda.  She was our first pet.  She outlasted two dogs.  She helped raise two kids.  Yoda was at my side for every late night feeding with both kids.  My beloved would be fast asleep while Yoda and I tended to the baby.  Yoda would lay sleeping on my lap watching infomercials when insomnia was not going to let me sleep. (Cats seldom suffer from insomnia)  Seventeen years pretty much just flew by.  I have made a photo book of Yoda, and it has so many great memories.  I can see how time advanced through changing paint colors, furniture, fashion, hair cuts, hair colors, and of course the growth of my kids.  I am glad I have all the picture memories, but I still wish I had her actually here.  At any single moment, I am not sure that I would have said that time was moving too fast...but as I look back it clearly has been. 

The second event that has triggered the realization that time is flying is a high school open house.  My beautiful 13 year old daughter is currently living in the time-space continuum that I had in my youth.  Nothing can happen fast enough and the world is moving at a turtle's pace. (Ironically, the pet she wants to "replace" Yoda is a turtle)  Tonight we need to go to the high school she will be attending in the September for a tour and informational meeting.  We are approaching this from two very differing perspectives.  

Her perspective: This is awesome.  I can not wait!!!

My perspective: WTH? When did she get old enough to go to high school? How can I stop this crazy train?

Such is life, I suppose.  Perhaps my mother felt the same way, but because she is a reserved, classy lady she never let me see her sweat this kind of stuff.  I am more of a force of nature. ("Subtle, like a sledge hammer", my father has said about me, more than once)  I am not holding in my feelings. My daughter knows that I am full of angst over her growing up.  No one is trying to keep her a child.  We have conversations about the current issues that face teens and young adults (I am not a moron)  I just do not like how fast time has flown by.  Can't we pause and have just a wee bit more time?  I also realize I have been amazing blessed to be a stay at home mom for  my daughter for most of her life, and all of my son's life.  It seems rather Peter Pan-like for me to want to keep my kids at their present ages, but at this moment they are just right.  I suppose I would have said the same thing at every age (after they were potty trained...momma never loved the diapers)

The point is (as if I really care if I have a "point")...time flies, and sometimes that notion catches up with you and it sucks, and at the same time it is beautiful because you see some amazing growth.  Sometimes we really do not like that time keeps marching on, but it does.  We just have to remember to stop, look around, and enjoy the moments...no matter how fast they are moving.   

Monday Funday: Presidential Edition

Today my kids have the day off school.  Thus it is a Monday Funday, by default...even if the most fun thing we did was eat Taco Bell for lunch, and get our eyebrows threaded (for the record 2 of us threaded, my son waited and rolled his eyes...his future wife will thank me for the training.)  I am glad the kids had a free day because I could make them watch the Presidential Inauguration   I watch the Inauguration no matter who is elected, whether I voted for them or not, I will watch them sworn into office.  It makes it official.  My kids need to know that we are truly fortunate to live in a nation that leaders are elected and placed into office in a peaceful ceremony.  Obviously, this year the same president and vice president were sworn in that already held the job, so seamlessness is somewhat insured.  However, even when a new person takes office it is a changing of the guard that is not full of tumult and drama for the nation.  It makes the United States rather special.  Yes, I am hardly objective in my view of my country.  I am very proud.  I also hold the leadership of our nation in high regard.  The President of the United States deserves our respect because he is the President.  Regardless of party affiliation or any particular stance on any issue.  The office deserves respect, and the person sitting in that office deserves respect for all he (and someday, she) sacrifices to lead our nation.  I would never want to be POTUS.  I said exactly this to my daughter this morning as we were preparing for the Inauguration ceremony.
(She had a worksheet she needed to complete as she watched the ceremony.  So, I really could force her to watch with me and listen to my ramblings about how beautiful the Capitol building looked and how much I love the monuments in Washington DC.  Thank you Ms. Hubacher for the Social Studies assignment, it gave me a captive audience.)
My daughter asked me why I would not want to be POTUS .
(She lives under the assumption that I would love to boss the free world around as much as enjoy bossing her around.  The free world would probably follow my authority more willingly than my 13 year old daughter.)
I told her reason number one is I like my privacy.  I do not want my life scrutinized, my outfits criticized, my words & gestures analyzed, and most of all, my family put out for public consumption and ridicule.  I am tough, but I am not that tough.  I am also a major league Mama Bear, and if someone criticized one of my kids or my beloved it would get ugly...fast.  Being POTUS is no walk in the park.  It is not for the weak, scared, or timid.  The decision to put yourself into public office comes at such a huge personal cost.  I would not be willing to pay that price.  So I instill respecting our leaders. Strong leaders are needed.  I do not discourage public leadership as a goal for anyone.  If someday one of my children wants to be a public official, I will campaign my ass off for them.  I will write stump speeches, hang signs, make phone calls, shake hands, and not swear in public, just for my kid.  I will do whatever it takes to get them elected.  I will also admire how brave they are for giving up so much personal freedom and privacy for the greater good.  I could never do it, but I am amazing grateful to, and respectful of, all of those that do.

First World Problems

Do you ever stop and think about the things you consider "problems" in your life?  Since I am an analytic type person, I do often classify my problems.  Or what I think are problems.  Not being able to find my mobile phone, is not really a problem.  The frothing machine being on the fritz at you local coffee haunt causing you not to get a latte, not really a problem.  Pants not fitting properly, frustrating, but not a real problem.  A crabby kid not wanting to go to school; annoying, yes, an actual problem???  Umm, NO.  Pretty much all of my problems are first world problems. Problems that exist living in a nation of abundance.  Yes, there are Americans that struggle with real issues of hunger, illness, lack of housing, and many more really serious issues.  However, most of us are sitting rather pretty, with plenty of everything and failing to fully regard, and be grateful for our abundance.  We as a population seem too focused on what we do not have instead of noticing how insanely blessed we all are.

This past summer my good friend and her family traveled to Tanzania.  While in Tanzania they did take a safari, as that is a major tourist draw in that nation.  However, prior to their safari, they spent time touring hospitals, schools, and learning about what life is like for Tanzanians.  The short version of what Tanzanian life is like, HARD.  My friend informed me that although daily life is hard, filled with real problems & struggles, the people are happy and generous.  My friend's children, both teens, learned that education is valued, and not provide by the government.  Families save, and sacrifice, and often have to send their children hours away to get a good education.  My daughter whines about how early the bus comes, but every night she gets to spend the night with her family.  Tanzanian students often have to take years off of school to work and help their families save money before they can continue.  Early bus rides, clearly a first world problem.  My friend said the most striking part of Tanzanian life is how much of it is centered around just getting water.  It is a daily concern, and large chore, and during the dry season an overwhelming problem if a well goes dry.  In comparison, we fill pools with water and splash in them.  We run through sprinklers.  We complain if our local governments put watering restrictions on our lawn and garden irrigation in the hot summer months.  Very first world problems.  I can not imagine having to carry water from a well through a village so I could cook or clean.  Face it, when the power goes out I turn very whiny and sissy.  I am such a first world problem diva.  

I am not advocating that we all give up our creature comforts.  This creature LOVES her comforts.  I am more reminding myself that in the very grand scheme of things, I have no problems.  If I get sick or if one of my loved ones gets sick we have access to medical care.  We have more than plenty food, in fact we need to be more mindful of what we waste.  I am writing this to remind myself to be grateful, and to look outside my pretty little first world life and see real need and real problems.  Please do not think I am going on a preach, well maybe I am a little bit, but the preach is focused at myself.  If it applies to you in any way, just know you are not alone.  We all have our first world problems, but when we put them in perspective, we just have some minor glitches in our rather awesome, over abundant lives.  No problems.

Hello my neglected readers.  Now you have a glimpse of how the family goldfish feels.  I hope you were feeding yourselves and reading other things.  I would hate to think anyone became illiterate whilst I was on my hiatus.  I also hate to think reading what I write makes you highly literate, or even remotely well read. That would be extreme hubris on my part, and I will have none of it.  On this day I will catch you up on what I have been doing, and observing while I was not writing here.

1. Relay for Life.  This will be my second year participating in my local Relay for Life, which benefits the American Cancer Society.  ACS provides education, awareness, and support for people with all types of cancer.  It is an event that I do with some of my friends from church.  We are decorating our tent around the theme Alice In Wonderland .  I have been dreaming the plan, and now need to revise it a bit, since the goal is to raise money for cancer, not to go broke decorating a tent.  Please feel free to support the cause by clicking on the following link and making a donation.  Thank you. http://relay.acsevents.org/site/TR/RelayForLife/RFLFY12National?px=20597074&pg=personal&fr_id=38367
2. Anacondas.  My sweetman (the 2nd grader) just completed a Talking Zoo project at his school.  He researched the Anaconda, made a great poster, wrote a paper, and then dressed up as an Anaconda and gave a brief speech about his animal for parents and other kids at his school.  As you may have guessed, a seven year old can not make a costume...so his sewing challenged mother made the costume for him.  I will post the pictures on a later post, since I do not have the pictures uploaded to this computer.  It turned out well.  It was a long process (16 feet long to be exact).  No tears were shed, but some red wine consumed in the process.  (by me, not my son).  If you need a 16 foot stuffed Anaconda, please let me know.  
3. Yards of Yard.  We have a large lot for people living in the suburbs.  Often guests at our home comment on the large backyard.  I hear people talk about how they love to garden and do yard work.  Those people should have bought our house.  My beloved hates yard work.  I am allergic to grass, yet still mow the lawn.  I see the yard as a bit of torture.  None the less, I have been doing the clean up of the property.  It is wonderful to see when it is complete, but the process is time consuming and awful.  My parents love to garden and care for their lawn.  Sadly, the gardening gene did not get passed on to me.  So I have been very grouchy about the lawn care.  Good news, my son said he would like to mow lawn.  So in a couple years I may have partner on grounds keeping detail.
4. Show Some Pride America.  Here is my meany observation of the week.  People have become too casual about how they dress in public.  Monday I was at the grocery store and I saw numerous people dressed in baggy sweats and pajama pants out in public.  It was early afternoon and these people were grocery shopping in what appears to be the same clothes they slept in the night before.  I am not asking everyone to be a style star.  I just want people to stop wearing pajamas and sloppy sweat pants out in public.  People have to see you, and you look really hideous.  Yes, the grocery store is a dull, but necessary place.  We all have to go the grocery.  Let us be civil to others by trying a little bit.  Quit wearing sleepwear outside your home.  Make it a matter of personal pride to get dressed EVERYDAY. No matter what.  Please. 

That, in a nutshell, covers what my April has been like.  I will now go put on proper day clothing, and start my campaign to keep the jammies at home.

Happy Weekend!

Writing by Force

Okay, so I have been slacking this week.  In truth I have just had a lot of little things that needed to get done.  It is funny how little things can add up and take a little longer than you thought and then suddenly...it is Thursday and you have not written a blog post all week.  That is how it goes sometimes.  However, I am writing this because a friend, who is a faithful reader, pointed out my blog neglect.  This friend also happens to be going through a bunch of changes and challenges right now.  Here is a sneaky peek...she is changing jobs (which is great) and the house she is living in with her spouse and two kids has a septic tank issue that the landlord is refusing to fix.  So now with a job change, she faces finding a house (in the same school district) before the sh** hits the fan.  Okay the sh** likely will not hit the fan, but it may well back up all over the floor...which is just as bad.  This makes my piddly little stuff look like child's play.  However, we all have sh**, not all of us have it literally, like my friend, but we all have it.

So I write by force today, because she looks forward to reading my crazy musings.  Too bad for her, it is her struggles that have made me realize that I have just a million little things, while she faces actual sh**.  This is the time when I wish I could have a village of all the people I love, that have touched my life, that mean the world to me all centralized.  My friend lives in Florida, so from Michigan all I can do is pray that everything will come together and work out...FAST.  I hate thinking that people I care about are struggling.  Even while I struggle.  We all struggle.  I just do not like people I care about to have anything but good things.  Yes, that is a fully impossible thought.  We can not only have the good and easy life.  Frankly, if life was only good and easy we would be miserable with it.  Seriously.  How would we know the good and easy times without the struggles & challenges?  It used to make me crazy when I would hear people say, life's challenges & struggles are the times when we, as humans, grow and build character.  Time, and this statement proving true, over and over again, has made me not only accept this statement, but somewhat embrace it.  Reflecting on past personal challenges that caused struggle and discomfort, and often extreme frustration...then great personal growth, makes me a little thankful for the challenge.  In the midst of any personal crisis, I know that it will somehow work out and I will have learned a thing or two.

I am praying for my friend's current struggle will come to a good resolution...soon.  I know that she is a smart woman, she is resourceful, and she is a fighter.  I am still sad that she and her family have this struggle, but I know that everything will work out for them...hopefully sooner rather than later.  And I thank her for making me write by force, because my own words have helped me put some perspective on my own life.  Thank you, my friend.