Homespun Truth

What Do You Do In A Weekend?

2012-01-29T17:26:00.000-06:00

Friday
Got one kid finished at one school and ready to start at the next one.
One kid read the Pledge at school.
One kid had baseball practice.
Had family burgers & fries night.
Watched WWE with the boys.
Took The Teen shopping for jeans.
Took The Jock shopping for jeans.
Saturday
Gave time out to The Teen.
Required everyone to take a nap.
Family pizza & movie night--Real Steal
Wine, The Mr. & Fast Times at Ridgemont High
A very nice online chat with an old high school friend.
Pictures from long ago.
Homework.
Sunday
Lots of time outs.
Baseball practice.
Games between kids and The Mr.
Took The Diva shopping for her father/daughter dance outfit, sheesh.
Family Sunday Dinner.
Fireplace time.

In between we did all the regular stuff too, like sick kids and bed time issues. There were video games and outdoor play times. We read stories. We cleaned stuff. We watched TV. We yelled. We laughed. We prayed. We took pictures. I'd say we payed our bills and worked on our taxes, but in reality, The Mr. does that stuff. Me and math is a great big old joke. I did some writing, worked on my Bible study and read part of a book. Siblings have been siblings.

I'm sure there was plenty of other stuff, like our forgetful dog that went in and out about 12 times in an hour this morning. I swear she was having a moment of, "now why did I come out here again?" You should have seen the look on her little hound face.

So, here's the million dollar question.
What did you do this weekend??

Notes To Self

2012-01-18T09:50:00.000-06:00

My boy is a teenager and already stretching his independence wings. I'm surfing the net and reading, taking notes and making tip lists for how to do it "right". I know there is no "right" and we all do the best with what we have and what we know, but the trick is to keep advancing what we know and keep applying it, right? It's one thing to read a million parenting books and another to read one and apply it. Knowledge is wasted if not applied. My life keeps poking me with episodes that make me search and learn and leave myself a note and this is one of those notes.

I want to raise kids who are sure of themselves and ready to go be a solid part of the world they live in. I want to give them the training in the life skills they need and help them chase their passions. I want them to know how to make decisions and how to own the outcomes of those choices. I want them to be constant learners from other and from their own life experiences.

As the parent I want to be supportive in their successes and failings. I don't want to judge and guilt and condemn especially in the guise of expressing my own feelings. I want to make sure I'm doing that in the right channels. That's why there are peers and partners and therapists.

I want to be slow to speak and I am not. I am training myself to be. I've come to believe that maturity is thinking it, thinking all the way to the fall out of the words and then deciding whether or not to speak it, or email it, or tweet it, or blog it. It's a tough learning curve for a quick sharp tongue like mine. It's also a realizing that in the end if I'm trying to justify or explain myself, there is something bigger going on inside of me. Accountability and awareness isn't easy or pleasant very often, but necessary always.

I want to be quick to own my part in these two sided relationships. I want to respect them and their reality, knowing that shared experience and history doesn't equal the identical experience or history. Even now, at their relatively young ages, I see often that I saw something unfold one way and they experienced it in another.

It is only a few short years before I start handing over car keys and and watching them pack for college or whatever comes next in their lives. I want to have been able to give their independence over to them in bites so it's never a cold shock for either one of us. I want to have grown into it with them instead of them struggling to grow an independence under my thumb and then them struggling and fighting me to break free. I want it to be a mutual thing. I toss them into the air just as they jump for their flight, that way we both "win".

Maybe it's being naive or straight up arrogance, but I don't think it's going to be all that hard to do. Why? See it's like this. I like my kids. I like who they are. I like the people they are growing into. Yeah, there are already things about them that I think oh, maybe I could have shaped that differently or maybe I should strive to change that about them, but then I think, no, they are who they are.

Not clear. I know. It's OK. It doesn't have to be clear to you. These are the blogs to myself so later I can come back and reassure myself that I'm still on track. It's a memo to self so I can come back for tips and wisdom-not my own, but others.

So here's an article I was reading this morning, and yeah, I know, it says adult kids. Whatever. It applies as we're racing down this path from teen to adult. I'm tucking these things into my heart and dwelling on the thinking, quietly.

Tips

Today's Your Birthday!!

2012-01-16T12:35:00.002-06:00

Dear B-
Let me start with Happy Birthday, the obvious part of the day. May 21 be a ton of fun and a year of good in your world.
Now let me brag on you a little to the rest of the world, just because it's my blog and I can. Let me share a little of how you delight me and what a simple treasure your unfailing friendship has been to me. Let me paint a picture of a you that I know you don't see.

I love how startlingly green your eyes become the happier you are. I know you hate it, but I look for your dimple in your smile because I know it's a give away to a true happy moment.

I know often your laughter makes you an easy target for being made fun of, but trust me, it's a delight. That laughter is one of the best sounds around.

You have an amazing sense of humor. Dry and sharp and just right for who you are.

I have been impressed with you in this short friendship as I've watched you slowly and steadily gain ground. I've seen you tackle thing after thing in your life and find a way to overcome it or handle it. I've seen you learn that just because someone else would say it's a small potatoes issue in life doesn't mean it is meaningless in your life. I've seen you grow in the confidence to try being the person you believe you are created and designed to be. I've seen you decide to do things that are right for you despite the railing of the world around you shouting to do or be something else. I've watched you swallow fears and fight back tears and in the end win a certain part of yourself.

I've watched you work hard at things, achieve and accomplish much to your own surprise and then I've watched you begin to learn how to be proud of yourself. I've been watching you slowly find happy and find the ways to stay happy.

I delight that we have inside jokes built on shared experience, both good and bad. I love that you drag me along for the ride and refuse to let me be old. I like us and I wouldn't trade it, drama or not, decades differences or not, miles of distance or not, I'm planning to keep us.

So on your very special day, thanks for being you, just a straight up version of awesome amazing. I love every minute of it. Thanks!

I love you
-j

She's Having A Party!!!

2012-01-15T18:12:00.001-06:00

This is more of a PSA than a blog and it's going to hang up here for a week so yeah, cope.

Chicklet turns 21 tomorrow. She's pretty stinking amazing in my book and I like her a whole heck of a lot.

This weekend in our little burg we have a festival to help us make our way through a long boring winter. Friday night always caps off with sledding and fireworks at the park near my home. It's cold and dark and tons of fun.

After the fireworks we always have a little party at our place.

This year it's a joint thing. A party just because parties are fun and a party to celebrate Chicklet's birthday.

21 is a big deal after all.

Not really any details. If you've been before, come again. If you are friends with Chicklet, come wish her birthday blessings. If she's asked you, you're more than welcome. If no one asked you, come surprise us. Not getting asked doesn't mean you're not invited. It means I'm a lazy hostess. Get over it. If you're one of our long lost friends from way back, come back. It doesn't really matter. We'd love to see you, share a smile and a drink, make a memory.

Back to the lazy hostess part. Please bring something to share. A snack or a treat. It's mostly a BYOB party too. I'll have some eats and treats and drinks, but without knowing how many friends we'll be hanging out with or how long or what you all enjoy, I'm leaving it up to you to share your fun with the masses.

Please come and join us on Friday.

So Well Known, But I Love It

2012-01-10T18:09:00.001-06:00

THE STARFISH POEM

Once upon a time there was a wise man

who used to go to the ocean

to do his writing.

He had a habit of walking

on the beach

before he began his work.

One day he was walking along

the shore.

As he looked down the beach,

he saw a human

figure moving like a dancer.

He smiled to himself to think

of someone who would

dance to the day.

So he began to walk faster

to catch up.

As he got closer, he saw

that it was a young man

and the young man wasn't dancing,

but instead he was reaching

down to the shore,

picking up something

and very gently throwing it

into the ocean.

As he got closer he called out,

"Good morning! What are you doing?"

The young man paused,

looked up and replied,

"Throwing starfish in the ocean."

"I guess I should have asked,

why are you throwing starfish in the ocean?"

"The sun is up and the tide is going out.

And if I don't throw them in they'll die."

"But, young man, don't you realize that

there are miles and miles of beach

and starfish all along it.

You can't possibly make a difference!"

The young man listened politely.

Then bent down, picked up another starfish

and threw it into the sea,

past the breaking waves and said-

"It made a difference for that one."

Maybe There Is Good Bye After All

2012-01-06T21:39:00.000-06:00

The measure of a man? Of a life well lived? Of a well lived life?

Pretty much standing room only tonight at Bob's funeral.

As I looked around the crowded room, there were faces I sort of recognized and many that I didn't. There were a few that I did know. A hand full of the class of '89. (Thanks Kelly for helping me find my way in and not leaving me standing in the door.)

What I did see clearly in that room full of faces, was your beautiful soul.

I saw the lives you touched and the love you gave.

We heard it in the music. (Nathan, thanks is not enough.)

And driving home I knew how to say good by. You won't be forgotten, not with a room full of lives touched by yours.

All that love.

You loved all of us with an open hand, kept us and let us go as we needed.

And so in the same way, I let you go, not to be forgotten, but to give us both peace.

Is There A Way To Say Good Bye, Because I Don't Know It

2012-01-06T10:34:00.000-06:00

I seem to be stuck on a theme in life. If you've been here more than once, you know my never ending dwelling on life in the bittersweet and can I tell you, I'm there yet again.

Always right on the razor edge of the past and the future, the sweetness of love and the sharp cut of loss.

Tonight I'll go to the funeral. Now we call them celebrations of life. It's still a funeral. It's still a strange contrived attempt to put closure on something that doesn't make sense in the heart. The brain understands. We are mortal. Our bodies fail. We understand. And yet, the heart doesn't always get the message.

My heart is stuck a bit.

For some of you this is an odd post. You don't know me in real life, you didn't know Bob. But I did. And this is my blog, my space to clear my head.

I'm doing what I've done since I first knew Bob, processing my life, pen to paper, and today it's with Marillion blasting through my ears.

There's a small smile and nod from those of you who knew him.

I'm standing in a strange place today. I'll go and try to recapture and put to rest something I can't quite even put my finger on.

More than 20 years ago, Bob did something amazing.

He loved me. He gave me the opportunity to love him. He listened. He let me simply be me. He helped my find my way while I was lost. He gave me freedom when I asked for it.

In a way, we were just kids playing at love. In a way, though, love is always real.

My start at CHS was so much harder than I ever expected it to be. There was a small handful of kids who tried to help me through it. They became my safe place. Some how I never really figured it all out. Looking back, I have those thoughts like everyone does. I wonder what it would have been like if I....

But I didn't.

I am who I am partly because of Bob. He helped me find my voice and my dreams. From a distance over a lifetime, I watched him following his own dreams and it is a part of what has kept me walking along after my own. There was always a small back ground of if he hasn't given up yet, neither should I.

At CHS I couldn't find my place. I never built those connections I longed for. I have those what if's... What if Bob and I had stayed a couple? How long would it have lasted? Would I have ended up with the amazing circle of friends that he has?

All those years ago we turned away from each other. I went my own way, floundering and still searching.

I can easily say, I am jealous. I am reading all the memories and comments being left about Bob and I see what I've missed over the years. We never found a way to be more than casual friends after dating. High school is just like that.

One of the things Bob did for me all those years ago was to simply, without saying a word, fold me into his circle of friends. Somehow it was easy for him to just have me there being a part of whatever. It was never fake, I was just simply wrapped into it with him.

When he and I were over I didn't have the confidence in myself to try to stay in those circles of friends. I probably could have and I definitely should have tried, but I was too afraid. I'm watching now and see the closeness, those forever friendships that were cemented then. I know they were built long before I came onto the scene at CHS because small towns are like that, but I still see it.

I will come tonight with all the same old fears and feelings and hope for one last time that the magic will be there and I will again be folded in. My life is such that practicality means I will come alone, without the security blanket of The Mr.

I know there will be lots of people that I will "know" because we were classmates, but also that I will know no one. My connection to all of them was Bob. I never managed to do it myself. I'm hoping the memories will be enough to let me belong one more time.

It is a sharp day of bittersweet.

It is also the close of the break for Chicklet. For a month she's been underfoot and it's been good. We didn't do anything big or special. We fell right back into the easy familiar of life with her here. It's so hard to explain the way that it's always been just like she's always been here, always been a part of us and the smooth, easy way it just is. We did a whole lot of what besties do, make a memory out of nothing. The time was short, we lost a lot of it to her health. But that's ok.

It's like my kids say over and over, "you get what you get and you don't have a fit"

Damn good life advice if you ask me.

So today is filled with the last things to get done before she heads back up north to school. It's heavy with the things besties know about each other. 2 of the 3 of us have way too much on our hearts and minds and yet we'll stand together and walk it through in this season.

Right in front of us is potential and opportunity and possibility and hope.

And my dear sweet Peeps, love hopes. We three know it well. Love hopes. So we'll walk forward.

And tonight, I won't be saying good bye. I'm going to live in denial as I've often been accused of.

I'm going to let Bob live in my heart the way he has for 20 years.

A good man. A very good man.

A man who blessed me years ago by loving me and giving me a place and a voice and a comfortable, safe, easy place to rest in my quest to figure myself out.

A man who blessed me with the opportunity to love him.

And I did. I loved him as deep as I was able to in those years.

It's Human Nature, I Guess

2012-01-02T13:35:00.000-06:00

Business first, on the side bar is a link to the funeral information for Bob if you're here looking for that.

Now, on to the story of the day.

Humans like a romanticized version of life. It's why we like movies and TV and a good novel. I think we do it at work and at home, with our friends and our experiences. I do it myself. It's easier to live that way.

Living a sort of romanticized version of things helps to ease the burden of knowing the realities of our failings. We all make mistakes and hurt people, intentionally or not. We all find ways to deal with those mistakes, either directly with the people or situations where the mistakes or missteps or misunderstandings happened or we justify it all out in our minds. Either way, we do something about it.

I feel like we do it a lot in our Christian circles. We read a lot of "good Christian books" that give us little nuggets to think about but more than that, give us lots of little things we like to call encouragements.

I'm not always sure that they are. Sometimes an "encouragement" is more like a free pass to amnesia land.

Yeah, I'm cynical. You already knew that. I like to think that I'm not cynical so much as I'm a thinker, but whatever. You're more than entitled to judge away and have your opinions of me.

Disclaimer moment. I'm not saying our lives should be all darkness and legalistic and so on. I'm not saying we shouldn't give grace, both to others and ourselves.

I am saying, be cautious.

There are some of us that will always be far to generous with grace for others and will suffer for it by being taken advantage of and manipulated often. There are some of us that will be too far over on the side of no grace for ourselves and we will be merciless in finding our faults and trying to punish ourselves over and over, refusing to see the grace God gives us. That's where we fall into that place of saying, well, God, I know you say you forgive me, or have given me my consequence for my action, but I can't accept it. You can't be right, never mind that you're God and all, I know what I deserve or how bad I am.

I know I'm not being very clear this morning and in a minute I'll clear that up or at least give you my justification of why my writing is a little sub par right now.

We have a new little person living with us, Mr. Monkey. He's been here a few weeks now, and as we say in the system, the honeymoon is wearing off. He's a great kid, but he bears his baggage of his life experience. We all do. And that's not a bad or wrong thing. It simply is. I have my own. You have yours. It's a piece of the puzzle of who each one of us is and without it, blah, life would be damn dull.

Now, that's not a blanket, go ahead and abuse the smack out of your kid. Not. At. All. Trust me. As the foster mom that takes in those kids that already took that, no, don't go there if you can help it. It's not a good choice.

ahem

What I am saying though, is, especially as Christians, we love to play this crazy little amnesiac game of romancing over how great it used to be and how miraculously God will smooth it all over.

Truth Time

Yes. God does miracles. That's a different blog.

Yeah, there were those precious baby/toddler/child moment of "perfect" love. Our kids just loved us because they did. They over looked our mistakes and missteps.

There does come a time though, when that stops and they start to feel and remember the slights, the hurts, the mistakes that were never acknowledged and the forgiveness-es we never asked for. Don't ever read me as saying I'm some kind of great parent, I'm not. I'm the regular kind. It is a different time frame and scale for each and every kid.

Some kids get beaten physically as infants and that body memory lasts for a life time. Some kids get the glances, the looks or the words. Those make a mark too. Sometimes it's an attitude, sometimes it's the lack that leaves the mark.

As a foster mom, some of my "hardest" kids are the ones that were neglected, not the ones beaten with coat hangers. Some of the ones with the most challenges to overcome aren't the raped ones but the ones that listened to a constant stream of put downs and dismissals. It all counts.

I'm betting almost every abusive parent has those perfect love moment memories of their child. I bet every parent that's not perfect, every one of us that has made a mistake, even once,has some of those perfect love moments.

We like to say how perfect a child's love is. We paint over it in a pretty pile of words and pictures. We love to talk all about God's perfect love and His ultimate forgiveness for our sin.

It is perfect love. It is perfect forgiveness. It is also beyond our comprehension. We do ourselves a disservice by comparing it to something else human. We allow ourselves amnesia to say, perfect love, total forgiveness and yet ignore that as God is giving that love and forgiveness freely to us, He is still holding all of us in His hand.

God gives us that love, grace and forgiveness freely at the very same time holding full awareness and knowledge of our sin, failing and holding us accountable.

We prefer not to see this. We take the grace and love and leave off the part where God is giving it while simultaneously holding us accountable and being fully aware of ALL of who we really are and ALL we have really done or not done.

We all do it. I do it.

Writing this in between doing mega-parenting with Mr. Monkey, I've lost a little bit of the train of thought here, but it's a start to a train of thought, or at least it is to me.

Bob

2012-01-01T14:49:00.000-06:00

http://www.muellerfuneralhome.com/pages/show_content.php?siteid=28&menuitem=89&action=1&value=12&obi=&obituaries_action=2&obituaryid=111642

Hard To Believe It's Already Over

2011-12-31T11:15:00.001-06:00

I woke up this morning, New Years Eve Day, thinking of the future.

I rolled over and checked by phone to my "world."

As I was dreaming of a new year, new adventures, new starts, new people in my life, one of my oldest friends gave up his life.

His adventure is already over.

40 years feels too short.

Bob Poggenburg, March 14, 1971- December 31, 2011

Sometimes Good is Just Good

2011-12-25T21:34:00.000-06:00

Sometimes a holiday doesn't look like what you thought it would look like or what you've been conditioned and taught to believe a holiday should look like,

but...

that doesn't mean it's bad or less.

Maybe your location or setting was different than what you expected or planned. Maybe the gifts were all wrong or maybe they were too right. Maybe there were none or maybe it was gift overkill. Maybe you wanted a casual buffet kind of meal and instead you got a formal sit down with multiple forks and cloth napkins. Maybe you missed the one Christmas church service you wanted to be at or you missed the single showing of that one holiday movie that just makes the season for you. Maybe your tradition didn't happen and instead you gave a nod to someone else who meant more to you than the tradition. Maybe you expected crack of dawn excited kids and got sleeping in instead. Maybe it was a blanket of white snow or the perfect fire that didn't happen.

I could go on and on and on. You know I could. You could too. We all could. That's how it is.

Holidays are filled with expectations and disappointments.

The point is this though, just because it was different from what you thought it would be, doesn't mean it was something less than good.

"Sometimes good doesn't look like what we've been taught it should look like."

Sometimes good is just that. Good.

Merry Christmas.

Just Empty Words On A Page

2011-12-20T08:08:00.003-06:00

I'd like to tell you a story....

Once upon a time, a life time ago, there was a family. A pretty ordinary. They clothed themselves in the standard Christian clothing. Their closets held skeletons just like every other families does. Their bank accounts had holes, again, just like everyone else's does. Behind closed doors there was hurt and love just exactly like every other family.

There were kids and pets and laughter and drama.

I don't think I can paint a more clear picture of ordinary for you.

Somewhere in the ordinary, in the everyday, life began to make a slide for some of them. It began to creep, so slowly and subtly that no one saw.

There was a boy.

A pretty average ordinary boy. He had his boy dramas and teenage angst. He had his rebellions and piss off moments. Medical issues bothered his everyday, but nothing overly intense.

This boy was a listener. A sensitive soul even though he never seemed to be so.

He heard the words and felt the meanings of the unspoken.

Life is made of ups and downs in this family, the same as any other.

The intensity of his medical issues grew as he did, as does for most. Sometimes a person grows out of something, sometimes a person's issues grow bigger.

He experienced times of excruciating pain. The kind that forced tears to slip from the corners of his eyes at the slightest touch or movement.

He found his escapes. He had his eyes open too.

I know this man as an adult. I know only his side of life. And I know that life is exactly like the classic observation experiment. Every person that experiences something, like a car accident, will give a slightly different report of the "truth" of what happened. Each person is correct in their report.

As an adult, he's been accused of being a runner. A person who avoids his problems, refusing to confront and fix.

In a way he is.

Let me continue the story through his eyes.

As the years unwound, his family began to unwind. Or at least that's how it seemed in his eyes. To him, the problems grew and escalated in direct relation to him, his health, his personal ups and downs.

His love for his family pushed him to a different place. He pushed himself into a place that he hoped would cause less and less hurt and pain and problems for his family.

A quest began. One to deny and cover up and discount anything that might harm the family he loved so deeply. In order to stop their pain and problems, he stopped reaching out and began reaching in, except that over the years the reaching in took on it's own life. He found all the vices and tried them on for their escapes. Some helped, some didn't.

Some back fired on him and brought more harm and drama and unrest to those he loves.

He also began to deny who he was. He tried to become all the things and people who would please them, who would bring them joy and happiness and make them proud. He's still chasing that kite tail instead of being himself.

So now, he combines. He runs away and uses his preferred vices.

Never with the intent of harm for the family he loves more than his life, never with the intent of harming himself, but always with the intent of giving them a gift of peace.

It's the idea that pushes him to the place of thinking their lives would be better off without him in it.

Decades later, as an adult, he still clearly sees himself as only the source of drama and pain and problems in his family.

He runs furthest and pushes hardest against his dad, the one he loves the most, the one who loves him the most.

Why?

Remember, he's a listener, to the spoken and unspoken. He watched a lifetime of his dad slowly and steadily growing to believe more and more deeply by the day that he was a bad dad. A failure if you will, because as a dad, he couldn't protect his son. He couldn't heal his son. He couldn't fix all the hard parts of life.

Both hurt, dad and son, but neither are failures. Both do the best they can with the best intentions.

The man came to believe the only way to make his dad happy, was to pull away from him, further and further, because he alone was the sole source of the destruction of his dad's life. If his dad didn't feel so awful about all the broken pieces of his life, then his dad would be happy.

So now we see yet another twist in this tale. The man believes that his unsolvable issues, his medical stuff, is some how his own fault and is the biggest cause of pain in his dad's life.

There is another aspect to this story line.

The man doesn't believe he has the right to be sick or feel pain, because as so many well meaning, loving people have told him, over and over through the course of his life, it could be so much worse. He should be ever so grateful and thankful that he has a life as good as he does.

We've all said it at least once to someone when we really shouldn't have. We all have our junk in life to carry.

But now he's an adult, still wearing all the medical and emotional and life issues. He has given himself an added layer of failure and guilt though.

Life still happens to him and he still pushes in and pulls away instead of reaching out, still because he doesn't want to hurt the ones he loves.

He has learned to manage and control all his health issues, but life still happens. He takes calculated risks and sometimes the outcomes are bigger and "worse" than he expected. When the flares of his health issues pull him down for days on end, back to that place of excruciating pain, he adds on more, believing solidly he has no right to be sick, to feel the pain, to complain or be unhappy, simply because "it could be so much worse."

So what happens next in this story?

Well, I want to write it a happy ending. I want to tell you somehow the characters find a way back to each other. I want to have it be a magical love over comes all type of story.

I don't know that it is.

I want it to be.

But I don't know what will happen next.

I do know this is all our families.

This is the story of my sons and daughter. This is the story of myself. This is the story of my mother, my cousins, my brother. This is the story of my besties, of my "enemies".

We all see ourselves and our families in this tale.

In my own circles of life and reading I have been getting lots of "pushes" about love. What it really might be, how it might really act, the Christian cloud context of it all and who we really are as people. It's a lot to take in.

It's a lot to accept, our human failings and how profound those are. It's easy to sweep them away using all "the right words from the stories on the page". We know how to say all the platitudes and we toss them out quickly to soothe our own feelings at the recognition of how small we really are to "do it right".

I don't know that we, as humans, ever hit that spot of doing it mostly right most of the time. I know I don't and I won't.

This is where all of us Christians chime in about how great it is that we have the God we have and how perfect it is that He does what He does for us, and it is, but there is more too. Because that average, ordinary Christian clothed family from the start of the story is still in it's same place.

Yes, miracles happen and it could all be simply washed away and they could be completely "restored" to a "perfect" loving family, blah, blah, blah. It could.

Or it could do what it's done and stay what it has become.

Where do we go from here?

I don't know my friends. I really don't know.

I'd love to hear your thoughts.

And sometimes, a story is just a story.

Back In The Game

2011-12-19T19:58:00.002-06:00

That was my theme today as I ran around town. I'm getting ready to run around again tomorrow.

It's not just the whole holiday busy time.

Today I took one of our many to therapy. Then I back tracked and traded kids. I took that one off to Children's for the bi-annual check up. Tomorrow I'll head back for a round of Children's Court.

All three of these are about a mile apart or so. Maybe 2.

It's been a while since I've been on the run with the kids like this. We had a pretty dull stretch there for a while. But we're back to the "fun".

Meaning the crazy busy, on the run of a big-ish family.

So in reality, it's nothing.

4 kids in 3 schools.
Multiple sports.
Therapy.
Many Dr. appointments.
Court dates.
School shows.
Holiday stuff.

It's all normal. It's all good.

I Took A Test

2011-12-18T13:23:00.000-06:00

Today I took a test. It wasn't a hard test, although I did have to do some math.

It was a test geared to the Christian gifting, but it's really a sort of who are you test. Who are you and what or who were you created to be.

My answers never shock me. They've stayed relatively the same for a decade or so now. Some would say that means I'm not growing or changing. I might argue it just means I mostly know who I am and I've for the most part given up trying to be something or someone I"m not.

But, that doesn't mean that it's always easy to be me.

The majority of my gifting falls in relationship areas. Not a huge shock there to anyone, I'd guess.

The hard part though, is doing it "right."

Relationships are who I am and what I do to a large part. Sort of like telling stories is a part of my make up.

Relationships though, are hard. They are work. They are a small amount of guessing and a big amount of risk taking.

Relationships are about trust, but trust is by it's nature risky.

Sometimes the hardest parts of the relationships we're in are with ourselves. We get caught up in our minds of what we think we know about the other person, about what they believe about us. We have imaginary conversations in our heads. We let our hearts hurt about things that aren't really even real. We use our own pain to deny reality. We use our fears to stop us dead in our tracks and then the slights grow.

The hard parts of relationships for me are keeping the lines from encouraging and supporting and crosses over to meddling and interfering. It is hard to keep from getting in the middles of things. It's hard for me to keep from doing and just letting each person grow and experience at their own pace, no matter how much I may want to do and fix.

What do you find hardest about relationships?

Words vs. Stories

2011-12-17T19:13:00.002-06:00

Last night my girls and I had a night of games. We play games off and on all the time. Mostly word games and I play mostly because they ask me to. They are game players. I am learning to be one.

There was a lot of heckling lately about how I'm a writer but I don't do very well at word games.

There's a little difference between words and spelling and telling a story.

I'm not good at spelling or words.

I tell stories.

It's a tiny difference, but it makes all the difference.

And thanks girls, it was a wonderful night. I'm looking forward to the next one, as always.

Gift or Trash

2011-12-16T13:23:00.002-06:00

This month has been focused on gifts over at NaBloPoMo and up until now, I don't think I would have said that gifts were a sore spot for me, but now, I'm rethinking.

I think maybe they are for me.

We've written about gifts we gave that weren't well received. I've written about the ever present gift card and if it's good or bad. Today we're thinking about handmade gifts.

As I started thinking about the gifts I've made and given and how they've bombed over the years, it's a little depressing. Add that on to the gifts I've bought and given that bombed and I think I've come to realize something.

I'm just a bad gift giver.

I pick the wrong stuff. I give the wrong things. My choices are bad choices. All the way around, I pretty much just don't do the gift thing the right way.

It means I owe my friends and family decades of apology.

I give stupid dorky home made junk. I forget special events and miss significant dates. I wound with cheap cards and unwanted gift cards.

As I'm making this years home made disasters, I'm realizing I'm the queen of giving the gift that gets tossed into the trash can in the garage. I give those gifts that leave the trunk and go straight to the garbage bin. I'm sure a few have been kept for the envious white elephant party.

It's OK. I know I stink at this. I've always been the bad gift giver. As far back as I can remember, I've always picked the wrong stuff.

So this is my holiday, I'm sorry I've given you years of bad gifts. I'm sorry that I'll be giving you yet another bad gift in two weeks.

bah humbug

I'm A Bad Santa

2011-12-15T20:35:00.001-06:00

Well, I broke my streak last night, I fell asleep instead of finishing up my post.

It happens. I fall asleep a lot. At the end of the night. TV on. A little Pinterest skimming or YouTube browsing. Blog hopping. I drift off.

Sometimes I drift mid conversation. Chicklet especially loves that.

Today's blog prompt over at NaBloPoMo is "have you ever given a gift that wasn't well received?"

The short answer is yes.

The long answer is yes, all the time!

I am guilty of giving "bad" gifts all the time.

It's not that I hate the person or have bad taste. It's not that I'm a big jerk, although I get accused of that often.

Sometimes it's because I wait too long to go what I need to do. I guess that's the nice way to say I'm lazy.

Sometimes it's because I live a little too much inside my head. The gift seems like a great idea to me, and I'll have a big pile of reasons why but it doesn't translate. It can be that it is something significant to me or something that I believe will be significant to the receiver, but in reality it isn't. It's just a miss. Sometimes I think it's part of a shared memory or inside joke or an inside moment, but in reality it is something just being a big deal inside my own mind.

None of that probably makes sense outside of my head, but it's the longer answer to, yeah, I give lousy gifts all the time, even though I have good intentions and my heart in the right place.

What's the worst gift you ever gave?

Bleacher Butt

2011-12-13T21:40:00.000-06:00

I have been sitting on bleachers cheering on one kid or another in one sport or another since about April.

I have one more day of sitting for sport and then my butt gets a break until baseball gets started again. There will be, of course, the odd school production or music event, but overall, sports is almost ready to break for a few weeks.

My butt and my back are looking forward to it. My nose is too. Sports just stinks. No other way to say it. Sweaty boys stink. My washer is kind of excited too.

Today, one of my friends came to sit through wrestling with me and the other kids. She saw a side of me she didn't know.

It seems my sports mama whoops and yells and hollers a bit. Or maybe way more than a little bit.

I guess I am that mama.

What Would a "Real Biblical" Christmas Look Like?

2011-12-12T17:19:00.002-06:00

This is what I'm thinking about today.

What would it really look like?

This is the season, you know, much like Easter, where we Christians pull out our attitudes and platitudes. We're really great at putting on the charity and grace. We pull out all the right lingo and phrases, you know, "reason for the season" and all.

But I've been thinking. And wondering.

It began with the fat man in red. You know, Santa.

There is an endless debate of can you be a Christian and still have Santa or if you're a "real" Christian then your kids know the "truth" of Santa right up front or maybe you're a super Christian and you don't even have Santa as part of your traditions.

I got to thinking about this over the last few days. Santa. Lying. Christmas.

Christmas, American Christmas in the suburbs is about a lot of things. We have the Christian layer with it's hymns and advents and charity. We have our Bible stories and church services.

There is the layer of Christmas that is gifting and parties and holiday cards. There are movies and TV specials and secular songs and stories.

There is the layer of fantasy and magic. Flying reindeer, a single man who knows if every child is naughty or nice-aren't all kids both? Snowmen come to life. Elves. Heat Meiser. Jack Frost.

There is the layer of music. We have the holy music. The hymns. They feel holy. We have the "classic" Christmas songs. We have the new favorites. A huge chunk of them are a little raunchy though, a bit of a party endorsement. A cue to indulge.

So on to indulgence. Gifts galore. Over the top. Out of the budget. Food. Feasting really. And the choices? All the rich, sweet, decadent foods. The delights, the rare, the special. Drinks.

So what does our Bible say about it all?

I haven't read anything about lawn decor or theme trees in my Bible. I didn't find a favorite cookie list or best gifts for the season list. I didn't see anything about elves or snowmen or Santa.

I'm not being a giant cosmic kill joy, even though I loath holidays.

I'm just wondering.

I'm wondering what it would be like.

A real Christian Biblical Christmas.

I don't believe that God wants us to not have Christmas, to not have joy and fellowship with our friends and families. I don't believe that God wants us to not feast together or give gifts or sing songs.

But I wonder.

I really wonder.

If you could somehow drop Bible life into present modern day American Christmas, what would it look like?

Would we still have light up deer in our snow banks in our front yards? Would we still sing of chestnuts and silent nights and Santa Baby? Stockings? Candy canes? Spiked egg nog and tickets to the Christmas church services that blast your ear drums and give you seizures with their strobe light?

Would we still just be giving our change in the bucket at the sound of the bell and saying how now we know, "those aren't just empty words on a page"?

What would it really look like?

What do you think? What would a real Biblical Christian Christmas look like?

Would there, could there even be such a thing?

Mega Meme

2011-12-11T21:07:00.001-06:00

Some days I'm not creative. Some days I don't have a good idea of my own. Some days I'm really not Jen, by night I'm a zombie snow man. Some days I just borrow ideas from other people.

Today is some day. A some day that I'm borrowing from some one else. So today the fun comes from Sunday Stealing. This is longest, weirdest meme I think I've ever seen. Feel free to play along.

Sunday Stealing: The Blue Memory Meme,

Cheers to all of us thieves!

1) If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say?
Love each other.

2) If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?
As long as they're interesting and genuine, I don't care.

3) You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?
Vegas baby, Vegas.

4) What do you think about most?
People & food

5) You have the opportunity to spend a romantic night with the music celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?
I don't think there's a music celebrity I want to be romantic with.

6) You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?
It sounds cliche but I wouldn't change my past. It makes me who I am today.

7) What's your strangest talent?
I make up stories.

8) What would be a question you'd be afraid to tell the truth on?
If I'm afraid to tell the truth for the answer, why would I tell you what the question was?

9) Ever had a poem or song written about you?
Not that I'm aware of.

10) When is the last time you played the air guitar?
I don't know, but I have kids, so it couldn't have been long ago.

11) Do you have any strange phobias?
Yes. I am phobic about taxidermy animals and museums.

12) What's your religion?
Christian

13) What is your current desktop picture?
I don't have one.

14) When you are outside, what are you most likely doing?
Chasing a child.

15) What's the last song you listened to?
I'm not sure.

16) Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?
I haven't had a favorite in a while.

17) What was the last lie you told?
If I'm telling I lie, why would I tell you the lie, doesn't that defeat the point of lying?

18) Do you believe in karma?
Sort of.

19) What is a saying you say a lot?
Big kids help the little kids.

20) What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?
Weakness, I talk too much and listen too little. Strength, I like people.

21) Who is your celebrity crush?
I never really have celebrity crushes.

22) Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word: heart.
alive

23) How do you vent your anger?
I write

24) Do you have a collection of anything?
bunnies

25) What is your favorite word?

love

26) Are you happy with the person you've become?
yes

27) What's a sound you hate; sound you love?
Hate: my kids fighting, Love: my friends laughing

28) What's your biggest "what if"?
what if I ever had a best seller...

29) Do you believe in ghosts?
yes

30) How about aliens?
no

31) What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?
deciding not to be afraid

32) What's the worst place you have ever been to?
cannon falls mn

33) Can insanity bring on more creativity?
no

34) Most attractive actor of your opposite gender?
Johnny Depp

35) To you, what is the meaning of life?
to make life meaningful--hat tip to The Mr. & 1987

36) Define “Art”.
beautiful creation

37) Do you believe in luck?
sometimes

38) In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?
trust, grace, mercy, communication, love

39) What's a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?
I Wish You Peace

40) Where were you yesterday?
The grocery store

41) What's the worst injury you've ever had?
broken jaw

42) Do you have any obsessions right now?
no

43) What's up?
just the adults :)

44) Ever had a rumor spread about you?
of course, who hasn't?

45) Do you believe in real magic?
yes

46) Do you ever hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?
grudges? no, but I am careful to learn from my experiences and cautious going forward

47) What's your favorite (non-pet) animal?
giraffe

48) What is your secret weapon to get people to like you?
be generous, listen

49) Where is your best friend?
sitting next to me

50) What do you think is Satan's last name?
I think he's like Oprah, one name is enough

Sometimes The Grinch Eats

2011-12-10T09:26:00.001-06:00

I've been Grinchy, no doubt. I've been railing and ranting and whining all December. I probably will continue.

Today, though, I'll take a break from all my misunderstood words and ruffled feathers and bring you food, because who doesn't like food, right?

I haven't made this in a few years, but I have crazy good memories of this. It's an amazing Christmas morning breakfast.

Eggnog Pound Cake French Toast

First you need to make the Eggnog Pound Cake. You might actually want to make two cakes. It really is that good. Second, it's not really french toast, but I'm not sure what else you'd really call it. It's just tasty and delicious and everything that a Christmas morning breakfast should be. Real maple syrup is critical.

Eggnog Pound Cake

6T butter-real butter please
2/3 cup sliced almonds
1 pkg yellow cake mix
1 1/2 cups egg nog
2 eggs
1 tsp rum extract
1/8 tsp ground nutmeg

Butter the inside of a bundt pan; press almonds to sides. Melt remainder of butter. With a mixer, beat cake mix, eggnog, eggs, rum extract, nutmeg, and melted butter on low for 30 seconds or just moistened. Bet on medium for 2 minutes or until smooth. Pour into pan carefully.
Bake at 350 for 45 minutes or until a toothpick inserted near the center comes out clean. Cool 15 minutes then remove from pan.

Eggnog Pound Cake French Toast

Christmas morning, get coffee from the kitchen, watch kids open stockings and read part of Santa's letter. Next, have a second cup of coffee. Slice the cake into medium thick slices. Butter one side. Melt some butter in a pan. Place slices buttered side down in the pan and toast golden brown. While the buttered side is getting toasty, butter the side facing up in the pan. Flip and continue with the toasty goodness.

Serve on plates with real maple syrup.
Savor.
Drink another cup of coffee.
Finish reading Santa's letter.
Get the camera, another cup of coffee and head to the tree.
Watch the Christmas magic.

Let It Go

2011-12-09T09:15:00.001-06:00

I hate the mornings where I write 92 blogs and can't publish any of them.

I don't like this season.

I am a Grinch. I have been for years. I am cynical.

I try hard to play it right for the kids, cause no one wants their kids to have Grinch mama as their life long holiday memory.

The Christmas junk is out. The carols play.

But the day to day is wearing and grating.

The stuff I thought wouldn't happen, would maybe only be a worst case scenario, was just my pessimistic self at it's worst, has already happened. Day one. First night.

I want to rail and lecture on communication, on fear, on choices, on a million things. I want to lock some of us in a room and just say no one leaves until it's over and settled and whatever. I want to stomp my foot and take over and control and fix.

I'm going to let it go. I'm going to be quiet. I'm going to stay out of it.

I will shoot for "peace on earth, good will toward men" if I have to bite my own tongue off. I will make the choice to be an adult and have self control. I will put others first.

I let it go. All of it.

Welcome Home

2011-12-08T07:44:00.000-06:00

....may your homecoming be much more than bittersweet...may it be everything you dreamed and wished and hoped...may it be your Christmas miracle...i wish you peace

A Love Letter For My Peeps

2011-12-07T16:06:00.001-06:00

Well my friends, I've been meaning to stay on the dark side of the holiday scene for this month, just because there is such a wealth of topics to tackle. The thing is, real life happens to me too.

It's only Wednesday, but it's been a dang tough week. There's a couple of Peeps in my planet that mean the world to me. They've both been on rough paths for a while now.

I had high hopes.

I had hoped that somehow, if we all made it through to December, we'd find ourselves, maybe not in a happy place, but at least in a plateau. I was hoping for a space where we could shed some of the traumas and dramas for some peace and laughter. I hoped we would find a place, some magical place between us, where we could, just for a few, let it all disappear.

The hits keep coming. One wave washes over and ebbs, just as the next one crashes over us. Sometimes, the moment in the ebb, watching that wave grow and begin to crest, its worse. Knowing it's coming right for us.

The hardest part? Their waves are not the same, one crests and washes away, just as the other is catching their breath.

Someone is forever being swept under.

I don't foresee a calm in this ocean of our lives any time too soon.

Fear is ruling everything. I am no match for it.

Love is a life line, but it is only so much.

I doubt a person can hold love and fear at the same time.

Yes, you two, it's about both of you. It's about us.

Somehow we make it through this, we three. Our three generations of different life stuff all colliding. The slights, the wounds, the arms wrapped round, the tears-joy and pain. We will wear it well as we walk it through. And we will. We will walk this through and one day, there will be an other side, and we'll be standing there, together, we three, looking back, but not watching our backs.

This One's For You, For Us

Ugly Christmas

2011-12-06T08:06:00.001-06:00

Did you know?

Christmas can be ugly.

Just put ugly Christmas into Google and you'll find page after page of ugly. Ugly sweaters. Ugly decorations. Ugly lights.

Go to the store. The sales push is ugly. Greed is ugly. The parking lot and store is full of ugly attitudes.

Indulgence is ugly.

Decadence is ugly.

Expectations are ugly. Fear is ugly.

My attitude and words have been ugly. Sorry friends.

I like the ugly answer or the hard truth. I like it better than a lie or better than an avoidance.

Doing the right thing or the "noble" thing can feel ugly good.

I'm stuck on a Bible story lately.

Two women come before Solomon. They are both claiming a child as their own. They are both claiming to love the child. Solomon says something ugly. He says cut the child in half and give half to each woman. Ugly. One woman refuses the offer, one accepts. One woman wants the child divided to have her fair share, to prove herself right no matter the cost. One woman would rather see the child live and be unharmed in someone else's arms than her own.

They story has a "happy" ending. Solomon realizes the woman who would give up her child rather than slice him in two is really the mother and "awards" the child to her.

I don't know that real life is like that.

Sometimes love lets go, gives wings, sets free and is happy for the outcome.

Sometimes when our prayers are answered the answers feel ugly.

With each foster, I pray for their families to find ways to heal and fix themselves. I pray for families to find their ways back to each other, for homecomings.

I pray for homecomings.

I pray for healed and fixed families, fences mended.

I am going to look at these hard answers, not through my doubts, my fears, my petty feelings and see answered prayers.

I'm going to see ugly good answered prayers.

May it be a stunningly blessed season for you.

My Heart 3 Sizes Too Small

2011-12-05T21:35:00.001-06:00

In my Grinchy mood I will take a crack at myself tonight.

It seems I have a heart 3 sizes too small or some other kind of fatal flaw.

There are patterns in my life that I don't like. One of them is front and center again.

I don't know if it's my words or my heart. I don't know what exactly it is about me.

But this happens.

A long time ago now, I had a friend and we were super close, or at least in my head we were. She put herself in a position to basically start her life over on the other side of the country. It was a great chance for her.

I was the last to know and I found out by accident. When I swallowed my pride enough to ask why she never mentioned a new job, a new life, on the other side of the country, she simply said it was too hard to tell me that she was going.

It's a pattern that repeats in my life.

Something huge. Something meaningful. I guess it. I find it out by mistake. It simply happens.

Why are the people I love the most unwilling to say things to me?

I've been told over and over through the years how judgmental I am and how sharp and hurtful my words are, maybe that's enough. I don't feel like I judge but everyone thinks I do. I feel like I realize quickly if my words were too sharp and I'm quick to be sorry.

Maybe that's not enough.

maybe i'm not enough

Gifts

2011-12-05T12:13:00.001-06:00

Well my friends, today's first gift is Google. I searched and found.

Today, I'm borrowing a Christmas Meme from I Should Be Laughing, who in turn borrowed it from Tiger Chanter.

1. Egg nog or hot chocolate? I like a little hot cocoa mixed with some Bailey's or butterscotch schnapps or maybe a little Dr. to mint it up.

2. Letter to Santa? I ask all the kids, even Chicklet-almost 21, to write a special letter to Santa and leave it in their stocking.

3. Does Santa wrap presents or just set them under the tree? Santa wraps. He has his own paper.

4. Colored lights on your tree/house or white? White. Only white. And no blinking or chasing or flashing.

5. Do you hang mistletoe? Nope

6. When do you put your decorations up? As soon as the Thanksgiving mess is cleaned up, so Saturday or Sunday after.

7. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)? For dinner it's green bean casserole. Then salads that you don't normally make or eat by yourself. For snacks, savory dips.

8. Favorite holiday memory as a child? Going to Midnight Mass.

9. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? I'm not sure. I don't remember a year that I "knew". And there was a year as an adult or almost adult, that my family was sad and Santa came. Still to this day, no one will "fess up" to being Santa that year, but there were touches that made us all sort of pause for a minute and wonder if my grandma had been "back" just for a moment.

10. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? With my immediate family, Christmas Morning.

11. How do you decorate your Christmas tree? It has a strange and unusual collection of pre-kid ornaments and then a large collection of kid made ornaments.

12. Can you ice skate? If necessary.

13. Do you remember your favorite gift? Yup. They year my boy friend surprised me with my engagement ring.

14. What’s the most important thing about the holidays for you? Being with family and friends.
15. What is your favorite holiday dessert? I really don't have a dessert associated with the holiday.

16. What is your favorite holiday tradition? A glass of wine or two, fire in the fire place, snuggling in and watching It's a Wonderful Life.

17. What tops your tree? A star.

18. Which do you prefer, giving or receiving? Honestly, giving.

19. What is your favorite Christmas Song? For a year or two now it's been a rather non-Christmasy song. River by Sarah McLachlan

20. Candy Canes! Yuck or Yum? They're nice for stirring but not for eating.

I almost forgot the most important part! Do the meme on your blog and leave a link or answer up in the comments.

It Gets Better - I'm Christian, unless you're gay - Responses Video

2011-12-04T19:56:00.000-06:00

Go watch. Then go read. Finally, go do.

It's The Thought That Counts...Or Is It?

2011-12-04T15:44:00.001-06:00

Let's talk gift cards today.

They are a unique thing both loved and hated.

I have a long history with them myself.

I confess right up front to being the forgetful person who stops at the store on the way to an event and gets a gift card. Before gift cards, I was the person that stopped at the ATM and got cash and a bad grocery store greeting card.

I give gift cards a lot. Not always at the last second. Quite often I choose them on purpose as a gift and believe that a person will actually enjoy getting and using the gift card. On occasion I have been wrong.

One word.

Blockbuster.

It was a colossal fail.

Anyhow.

So here's the thing about gift cards. It's really just giving cash in the form of a piece of plastic. We used to as a culture/society sort of frown on giving cash for a gift. I'm not sure exactly why, but I suppose it has something to do with insecurity and whether the receiver will interpret the dollar amount as an indicator of worth in the givers life.

Really?

I remember as a little girl getting gifts off and on that weren't exactly fits for me or my life. None of them were bad gifts or things that terribly disappointed me, they were just things that were sort of ho-hum. Things that just weren't exactly me. Like a nice sweater in a color I would never have picked or a dress in a style that really wasn't all that much like my style. We always kept them and they always came with the words, "it's the thought that counts".

So you grow up with this idea that a gift can be good enough and everything will be OK, simply because "it's the thought that counts". You come to trust in the idea that even if you don't really know what a person would like or enjoy as a gift, if you just get close enough, it will be OK. If you just pick a gift that is "nice" it will all work out, because it's not about the gift, but the idea of the love behind the desire to buy a person a gift.

Right?

That's how that phrase works out isn't it? The gift doesn't matter because what really counts is the idea behind the idea of a gift and that's that a person cares about you or loves you. Now, this slips quickly into where we all live now, the land of gift exchanging out of obligation, expectation, guilt and fear. "I have to get a gift for Bob because he always has one for us. I just know that now that I am hanging out with Susan, I have to get her a gift, that's what friends do. Molly would never say anything if I didn't give her a gift, but she would feel bad, and she'll have something for me and I don't want to hurt her feelings or make her feel left out. How can I not get a gift for Dan? I have to. If I don't he'll make a big scene with the family, start all kinds of talk about me and it'll never end and I just have to because who knows what he'll do to me if I don't get him a gift!"

So how do gift cards fall into the thought that counts?

Some say you're thinking of the recipient because you pick a store you know they like and let them go pick out whatever they would like or whatever fits them. There's no issues of someone else knowing your size. What if you give those sort of generic gift cards like the VISA kind? Or cards to places like Target or Amazon, where you can pick out pretty much under the sun?

So then is it still really the thought? Here's some cash, take yourself to the store or log in and spend it on yourself however you like?

Don't misunderstand. I love gift cards. Giving and getting. I will continue to give them, even this year, but I think we probably should start coming up with some new catch phrase to go with it. I think it's a pretty hard sell to say "it's the thought that counts" with a gift card or an envelope full of old fashioned paper money. Honestly, I give those cards and cash all the time, no matter how much I love the person or even if I gave them intentionally instead of at the last minute, I have to say, there isn't much thought there on my part.

What do you think the gift card giving slogan should be?

Cards & Letters

2011-12-03T09:31:00.001-06:00

This is the season. Cards and letters fill up the mail box.

Or some people's mail boxes.

Ours stays empty. Deservedly so.

I only get on the Christmas card band wagon every 5 years or so. If you don't send them, you don't receive them.

Now before you get all flustered thinking I'm upset about this, I'm not.

In the "modern" world of constant connections and communications, I feel like, Christmas cards? Who needs 'em.

We are all so connected with each other these days thanks to social media, we know way more about each other than we really need too. Everyone can see every one's pictures of everything minutes after it happens. Plus, in case no one noticed, cards and postage aren't cheap anymore.

I do have to touch on Christmas letters though, especially after the question in Dear Abby this morning. The question was basically, I like to send the brag letter each year and this year I have a problem. Kid X is in jail due to complications with his addictions. How do I write my brag letter and say good things about my other kids, but not tell everyone our dirty laundry?

Really?

Dear Abby answers nicely, because she is nice and always answers nicely. That's her job. It's not mine.

I'm thinking, really? If you have to even ask, you shouldn't be writing the letter.

In a way, cause I have a weird sickness I guess, I enjoy those letters. Especially if I know the family well. I love to see the spin. I love to see how we weave a best case scenario story for the world. It's fun.

What's the most outrageous Holiday letter you've ever gotten? Care to share on your blog and leave a link in the comments? Share the best excerpts in comments?

What's It Gonna Be Today?

2011-12-02T19:53:00.001-06:00

Shopping. That's what.

I am a classic last minute shopper. I start out mid-year with good intentions in a strange fantasy sort of way.

Then all of a sudden it's November. I'm focused on two things. Words and turkey.

Next I wake up and realize I am that mom that sent the kids to school and forgot to have them open their Advent calendars to get the bite of chocolate first thing in the morning. I blame it on our staggered start times. Between 5:30 and 8:30 we have 6 different wake up times, shower times, leave the house times, and somewhere around 9:30 I find my way back for naps, showers, coffee, silence, words or whatever.

Somewhere around now I get cranky about the shopping.

Partly I'm cranky because I just don't like going to malls or stores. I did my time. Many long years of retail, back when sales women wore suits and high heels. Yup, 8 hour and 12 hour shifts in heels on concrete floors. I still feel it sometimes. I set up sales and tore them down. I set displays. I managed stores. I did my time.

I watched my pay checks slip right back into the stores. No better sales person than one who wears or uses the product they sell. Right.

When I remember all the fun of the mall life, I start thinking I'll shop online. That's where I fall into a new trap. The shipping fees and the time. Will it get here in time? Do I have to buy the most expensive shipping to get it here in time? The final dilemma for me is always when I have 15 tabs open and I'm trying to compare.

And here I waffle. I go back to thinking I'll make two or three wretched trips to the dang mall and get it over with.

That's when I realize. I don't really have a list. I don't have a plan. I don't even know who exactly I'm shopping for.

It seems my list of how and who changes each year and I don't pay very close attention to anything, in case you haven't noticed. I have the lump sum amount of how much I can spend for the gifting, but I haven't figured out how I'm breaking it down between the 20-30 people I buy for. Some of you reserve watching me to math as a spectator sport, need I say more?

The next issue? My list is really just a vague list of ideas. Sometimes for my immediate kids I have good solid specific ideas, but that's cause I cheat and read "the" letter. More often it's things like well, she's a girl so glittery pink stuff or he's a boy so wheels or sports are a theme. Translation? I'll be wandering the mall without a plan or a clue.

I end up here where I am right now. Close to having a plan. Roughly 20 days left to pull it off, less actually for some of the events we do. Trapped in a whole bunch of well heck I'm not smart enough to figure this out or have enough time or patience to figure it out, so I'll punt and hope. I'll get gifts that I hope will be good enough. I hope they will make the kids happy enough. I hope they will keep the fighting at a low level. Notice I don't have hopes of satisfaction, contentment or zero fighting.

I am cranky as all get out.

Add in bonus items like unplanned socials and court dates. School stuff and sports. It's always a triple bonus if you have a majority of the family come down with something so every one can have that extra added measure of edgy. Toss in fights with besties, kids and adults, bullies and elderly dogs. Then you have my kind of party!

What's your shopping issue? Prices? Coupons? Sales at stupid hours? Limited quantities? How about products that are so similar you can't figure out which ones you really should buy?

Honestly, some years, I really think can I just stop at the ATM and hand out cash? Please?

Holiday Blog Rant Party, You're Invited!

2011-12-01T12:04:00.001-06:00

December does not have to equal drama.

Heads up, right from the first words, there are about 932 of you in my world that are going to read this and get bent out of shape because your drama isn't a drama, but a situation. It's justified. It's unavoidable. It's not your fault. It's this or that or you have a reason, an excuse, a big fat whatever.

It's December 1st.

We have a long way to go yet folks. A. Long. Way.

Quite honestly, since Thanksgiving day or there about, there have been enough dramas in my world or the edges of it that I have simply lost count.

I'm not looking for apology or whatever comes to your mind as the fix or solution. I'm not saying don't go talking to or trusting your friends or families. I'm not saying your stuff isn't real. It is.

Every one's stuff is real.

But it's personal too. No two people see the same thing exactly the same way. Figure out, however you have to, to be able to see something other than your own perspective and hurt. I'm not saying don't feel it or discount it and say it never happened or it never hurt, but I am saying, set your crap down for a minute or two. Take a big breath. Count to ten. Look at the whole thing from another angle. Then do it again. And again. And however many times it takes you until you run out of ways to look at it. Then when you're all done getting some perspective, go ahead and pick up your pile of crap off the counter if you really want it back.

Holidays are dicey. They just are. Everyone comes down with something and feels a little less than themselves. Everyone comes over burdened with expectations and hope. Everyone bears their dashed hopes of holidays past. Everyone has those memories of loved ones passed on. Everyone wants the perfect holiday.

No one gets one.

Perfection doesn't exist.

Now, those two semi-cynical statements don't say you can't be happy.

You can. You just have to decide to be.

But, but, butt

Yeah, Butt.

Deciding to be happy isn't that easy. You're dang right. It isn't. It means you have to suck it up a little. You have to give up some of the chip on your shoulder or the grudge in your soul. You have to bite your tongue and smile in spite of the wild racing of your mind, yelling at your heart, "But she just said/did/looked!!!! Arghh!!!"

Yeah. Set it down and take another deep breath.

Again. I'm not saying that you get all lovey and over the top with the uncle that raped you or the sibling that belittles you at every turn. I'm not saying you suddenly look at a friend or relative that abuses you or takes advantage of you and say the past doesn't exist, it never happened, my truth isn't real or anything like that.

Not at all.

I'm just simply saying, if you want to have the whole holiday hoop-la, then be willing to pay the price. If you can't bear to be around a person, then don't do it. If you can do it, for whoever sake or whatever reason, then do it without all the drama and martyrdom.

Yeah, I'm like this.

I guess, I too am riddled with high expectations for people in my planet. I expect if you're an adult, you should act like one. I expect if you're a parent, you pull it together for the sake of your kid. I expect if you have a habit of hurting people or running them over, for a while you pull out the peace on earth, good will towards men card and try it on.

And no. I'm no angel here. I AM the Grinch. The month of December brings out more of my worst than any other.

I write this post more to myself than any single one of you in my life.

Can I just remind us all, that there is nothing wrong with making decisions in our lives? But when you do make a decision, own it.

So when you decide you're going to Susie's party even though you'd really rather sit home with cocoa and a blanket, own it, make the best of it for both you and Susie and her guests. The second part of that is, know why you decided to go. It seems like a minor thought, but it's not. Know why you make the choices you do.

Whether you decide to spend your holiday drenched in friends, family and social activities or snuggled up with your cup of cocoa, own it. Make the choices that are honestly best for you.

Making those kinds of choices means trusting those people in your world.

What? You thought it was just about you knowing what you could handle or not without self medicating to the extreme in whatever demon is your vice, um, no. It's not. It's about trust.

The first time you stretch your adult wings and say, I'm newly married, or have a new baby, or on my own and I want to spend the holiday at home, my home. You do so, out of trust, that your family of origin will continue to love you anyway. It's not the same, but the best example I can give is the person coming out to their family with the hope/expectation/trust that even though they are revealing who they have grown up to be to the people who supposedly know them the best in all the world, they will still be loved, even though maybe it's not what "everyone" wants or expects. The first year you say to all your social friends, this year, I need space, I need quiet, I need to pull back and be with just a few or alone, you do so out of trust. You trust that they will still love you and be your friends when the quiet time is over.

There is nothing wrong with "going off the grid" for the holiday season. To be honest, some of my happiest holiday memories, the most peaceful ones, are the ones I skipped as much as I possibly could and spent it quietly tucked into my own space.

The sad part is when you don't have that trust spot, you can't find it, and you make your choices and decisions out of fear. And that, in my very opinionated opinion, is not a way to live and not owning your choices, because they weren't yours. If you do something out of fear, there is a bully factor there.

Especially as adults, there should not be people in our lives that we are afraid of. If there are we need to fix that. Either stop being afraid, face it down or get that person or situation out of your life. Maybe not forever, but until you don't fear it anymore.

OK, so there you have it. Your highly cynical holiday buzz kill. And all for free, no waiting in line, one size fits all.

Personally, I like to think of myself as pessimistically optimistic, but that's because I like to see myself in the best light possible while still seeing as much of myself as I can stand to see in that mirror.

Go blog your own holiday rant and leave me a link in the comments.

Daily Dose

2011-11-30T12:59:00.001-06:00

The prompt today over at NaBloPoMo is a question about what you learned from blogging daily.

I've been in the habit of blogging daily for a while so I'm not sure that I learned anything in particular this month from doing it daily.

I do realize that I typically have a lot I want to say. I have a whole lot of opinions and observations about my own life experiences, but that's why this is blog is labeled in the subtitle as my life in my corner of the world.

I also realize that quite often what I want to say, shouldn't really be said, at least not out loud in the big public venue of the Internet.

Sometimes it's fun to play a meme or blog hop. Sometimes prompts are great for jogging a thought or getting a post printed. Sometimes they make you roll your eyes. Sometimes you write for your audience and sometimes you write for yourself.

Comments can be fun and encouraging or just down right nasty.

I am reminded how often I write a great blog in my head while I'm driving or showering and then when I finally get the minutes to sit down and pound them out, the idea is gone, or maybe the idea is still there but the turn of phrase, the great poignant moment I was creating is missing.

So what about you? What did you learn about yourself by writing daily? Is it a challenge you would ever take? Was it something you just ho-hummed and half-assed your way through this month just so you could say, whoo hoo, I did it, or did you really dig into yourself and find something?

Go Read This!!

2011-11-30T09:20:00.001-06:00

A week or so ago, I stuck some links on here to go read over at Single Dad Laughing, and get ready, I'm about to do it again. Single Dad, is a powerful writer and putting up some really amazing stuff these days. I would dare to say, that not a single person alive wouldn't benefit in some way from stopping by and giving these posts a real read.

Real read?

I mean, let your guard down for a minute, give these the time they're worth, look in the mirror for a second. I do when I read these.

Go read his latest series. Part One. Part Two. Part Three to come soon.

And yeah, I know, it's a kind of a "cop out" to copy links to someone else's blogs and call it a post. I have some ideas for today yet and they'll come, but for now, get your mug of hot steaming whatever, put your feet up and open up your heart.

Go Read!

So What's The Plan?

2011-11-29T14:42:00.001-06:00

This is about the time of year I start trying to figure out the plan.

You know, The Plan, the holiday plan.

There are so many people to account for and thus about an infinite amount of emotions to try to handle, both mine and theirs.

It exhausts me. It sucks my will to live.

Then there are the gifts. Then the events. The socials. The cards.

When I finally wake up from my denial that the whole thing is almost ready to crash down on my head, I realize that I'm way "behind" in the getting it all together and meeting all the expectations.

We all talk a good game about "Jesus is the reason for the season" and "it's the thought that counts" and all that other stuff, but truth is, we go right ahead and set our expectations and then judge away at the outcomes.

We lie to each other and we lie to ourselves.

There are plenty of things I "mess up" all over the place. From an outsider it would appear that I live the holiday season in a random way. I sort of do, actually.

There are years, not many, but there are years, when I'm really excited and jazzed up for the holiday to come. I have cards ready. Gifts, thoughtful, personal ones, handled. I have the outfits in order. The house is all decked out. The holiday cheer is rocking the house and on and on and on.

Then there are the rest of the years, the years when my Grinch reigns supreme.

What kind of holiday person are you? Christmas Angel or Grinch? Are you so into it you go right from Halloween to Christmas, letting Thanksgiving be a snack bar in between? Does Christmas just sneak up on you and bite you in the ass?

See you in the comments!

Hand Me Downs

2011-11-28T18:16:00.001-06:00

The prompt today at NaBloPoMo is about family heirlooms. Do you have one and what's it's significance?

I'm going to say no.

I do have a few things that have been handed down, but I don't know that I'd call them heirlooms. I'm not certain exactly why I wouldn't call them heirlooms, but I guess I just wouldn't. They have been handed down in a way, but not exactly something passed through generations.

I guess our families just aren't like that.

I have two sets of china. Both belonged to grandparents. One set, my grandparents, the other set The Mr.'s grandparents.

PS. They match beautifully.

We have a piano that came from a great grandparent.

A cedar chest.

An old doll.

That about covers it.

I think maybe an heirloom is something that holds a significant emotion to it.

I enjoy these things and I love the knowing of them, that they were grandma's or great grandpa's, but I have no memory of them before they were in my home and belonging to me.

Tell me about your heirlooms.

Thanksgiving Treats

2011-11-27T15:55:00.001-06:00

Today we've spent the day sort of in detox mode after Thanksgiving and all it's fun and people and junk food. We pulled out Christmas and it threw up in my dining room. We wore out our time out step. I've uploaded pictures until my brain fell out. All that is to say I have no blog idea of my own. My writing is in a deep dry spell. That's not a bad thing, it just is.

So I'm stealing today from Sunday 7Seven.

The question for today is to name 7 treats you enjoyed over Thanksgiving.

1. Apple Pie Shots
2. Pickle Bites
3. Green Bean Casserole
4. Artichoke Dip
5. Guacamole
6. French Silk Pie
7. Pomegranate Martinis

What were your 7 holiday treats?

Thanksgiving Part Two---The Out Takes

2011-11-26T18:40:00.001-06:00

Why are you sniffing that?
You brought your innocence to the wrong party.
It's not even 5PM yet!
She has poop! Nope, it's ice.
There is too much nudity in this Thanksgiving.
I might become violent with you.
Is 'eh' a word?
Where's my Bible?
God has ear wax.
I just peed myself.
When did that happen?
How do you know his light saber is purple?
Even when I'm this drunk you love me.
I had no idea it was me.
I have a story...
It's always been the charging rhino that wins until you threw plumbers crack at me!
Do not wake up another human being!
If I have to go down the steps again I'm going to puke.
That was the worst movie ever.
Don't leave me!!
18 eggs should be enough for 7 kids, huh? It wasn't?
I forgot to add the milk.
Fun size, Epic, The B.S.card.
Rule #1 No playing with your pants off.
Rule #2 Stay off the pole.
Rule #3 Keep your shirt down.
I found a green M&M in my cami this morning....

2011-11-25T13:22:00.001-06:00

No story today, just a day with my friends.

Enjoy your day!

I'm Full

2011-11-24T19:59:00.001-06:00

It was a full day.

My belly is full. There was tons of great foods and drinks. Apple Pie Shots and Cranberry Walnut Pie. Throw back 7 Layer Salad and Sweet Potato Casserole. Mmmm. Oh yeah, and turkey.

My ears are full. Lots of good conversations today.

My arms were full. Lots of hugs and kids to hold.

My heart is full. It's always good to see my family and love on them.

Tomorrow, we'll do it all over again with another part of our family.

Turkey part two.

Why yes, I will have seconds of Thanksgiving blessings.

Eagles - 'I Wish You Peace'

2011-11-23T17:28:00.000-06:00

I had this song picked for today long before I saw the NaBloPoMo prompt.

I don't know if it's so much a song that changed my life, as one that's stuck with me through 20+ years. Way back a couple of life times ago, near graduation, this song was played for a small group of us. Our fearless leader, Miles, played it as his farewell to the Jazz Band Seniors.

I'm not sure exactly what it says about me, but I've held onto it all these years. The sentiments say a lot and the music holds just the right feel for the lyrics.

I've "given" this song many times in many places for many reasons and today is yet another one of those moments.

So to You, in this moment, I give you this wish.

The ninth and final track from the Eagles' fourth album, One of These Nights, released in 1975.

LYRICS:

I wish you peace when the cold winds blow
Warmed by the fire's glow
I wish you comfort in the, the lonely time
And arms to hold you when you ache inside

I wish you hope when things are going bad
Kind words when times are sad
I wish you shelter from the, the raging wind
Cooling waters at the fever's end

I wish you peace when times are hard
The light to guide you through the dark
And when storms are high and your, your dreams are low

I wish you the strength to let love grow on,
I wish you the strength to let love flow,

I wish you peace when times are hard
A light to guide you through the dark
And when storms are high and your, you dreams are low
I wish you the strength to let let grown on,
I wish you the strength to let love flow,
I wish you the strength to let love glow on
I wish you the strength to let love go on.

Home For The Holidays - Michael Franti

2011-11-22T13:20:00.000-06:00

Each of you know why, right in this moment, this is so significant...parents are more than the physical creators of children...

Love Goes Viral

2011-11-21T20:02:00.001-06:00

Sometimes good things happen on the Internet. Sometimes very good things.

Something very good is happening over at Single Dad Laughing.

Take a look at these two posts. They are well worth every second you spend reading them.

This: http://www.danoah.com/2011/11/im-christian-unless-youre-gay.html

and this: http://www.danoah.com/2011/11/powerful-responses-to-im-christian-unless-youre-gay-blog.html

Love is not judgement, but grace.

I for one would rather stand in front of God at my judgment and plead my case for having loved too many without bounds.

Sunday Quotes

2011-11-20T20:16:00.001-06:00

"Don't believe everything you think."

"Don't ask for my opinion and get mad when I tell you the truth."

"You are never to old to set another goal or dream a new dream..." C.S. Lewis

"Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter." Martin Luther King, Jr.

"Just keep moving forward and don't give a shit about what anybody thinks. Do what you have to do for you." Johnny Depp

"in 3 words i can sum up everything i know about life, it goes on" Robert Frost

"there is nothing more badass than being who you are"

"Expectation is the root of all heartache." William Shakespeare

"Because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have."

"Don't think too much, you'll create a problem that wasn't even there in the first place."

"It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are." e.e.cummings

"What you do speaks so loud I cannot hear what you say." Ralph Waldo Emmerson

Social Media Is Not My Friend

2011-11-19T16:46:00.001-06:00

Social media is fun, but not always.

Sometimes it is bad.

Especially if you are like me and your words sometimes get away from you, or you think you are "unseen"

There is no place online that is unseen. If someone wants to find you or find something you have "said", they will.

And sometimes, you have to pull back.

I have recently said some things, here and elsewhere that were not in my opinion, dangerous, untrue, mean, or anything else like that, but clearly I did not think it through far enough.

I like to think that people who know me in life, know me well enough, to over look my flaws and love me anyway. That is not always the case.

Truth should not always be spoken. Opinions should be kept to ourselves it seems.

I like to believe that somehow, I can say what I think without hurting people or causing them problems.

It is not the case at all.

I have in the last week, deleted my memberships to several different social media sites in hopes of somehow making things better and cutting my chances of doing it again in the future.

I am debating pulling certain posts on here, but it feels wrong to censor what I want to write or what I feel I need to say because of someone else being offended. I feel horrible when someone else does it, when they can't write their own thoughts in their own spaces because of what everyone else in their "world" will say or think or gossip about. Judgement sucks.

Isn't that the same thing I blogged about in the prior post? What is it called when you can't say things without fear?

It will be a sad day when I decide it is easier to not write than to risk hurting someone or causing a problem. A sad day, but one that looms larger every day.

Be Kind

2011-11-19T14:09:00.001-06:00

Abuse is abuse. Period.

Abuse is all up in the news again these days. There are a pack of nasty adults doing the unthinkable to kids.

As Christians we talk a lot about how sin is sin. No sin is greater than the other. There is no sliding scale, even though we like to see it that way. It's our human nature it seems, to be bent on justification. We are forever saying to ourselves, well, sure, I did xyz wrong, but it's not as bad as him because he did abc.

An abuser is a bully and a bully is an abuser. It's all about power, no matter the "issue".

Maybe it's about race. Maybe it's about your social status. Maybe it's about your religion. Maybe it's about your politics. Maybe it's about your disease. Maybe it's because you are challenged or handicapped in some way. Maybe it's about your lover.

Abuse happens to adults and kids. Sometimes it's physical, sometimes it's not. Neglect counts. Words count. With holding love or support counts. Abuse can look like a lot of different things, but you know it when you feel it.

We cannot discount each others experiences. I cannot say to someone, well, your momma didn't beat you with an electric cord so you were never abused by the years of her saying you were stupid. I can't say to a person, oh well, you weren't raped in the locker room, so enduring years of being called names wasn't abuse. So what if your family didn't furniture or food because the money went to drugs or alcohol, that's not abuse because no one hit you and your body bears no physical scar.

Yes, they are different, but they are the same.

I don't want any of my kids to be bullied for any reason. Not because they're short or fat or wear glasses or want a same sex partner or want to practice a non-mainstream religion. I don't want them bullied because their eyes are slanted or their skin is brown or they are deaf. I don't want them abused because they are Autistic or walk with a limp or have birth parents in jail.

Just as each one of us is made of a million and one unique distinctions, that leaves us a million and one "reasons" to judge and bully.

Be kind to each other.

My Dreams

2011-11-18T20:50:00.001-06:00

There are those of you out there that for whatever reasons question me, my sanity, my wisdom, my decisions and so on. I can hear your words, the grains of truth and the heart behind it all. I hear your concerns and compassion.

But still I feel compelled to say, I do not make my choices lightly or on whims. OK, maybe I do when it comes to my hair or picking a bottle of wine but never when it comes to my family, my kids.

There is a part of my life that happens behind the scenes. Intentionally. When I pray or discuss with my private circle or cry over a decision I have to make, it is not taken lightly.

I do not ever take a child into my family on a whim. I do not wear blinders when it comes to The Little Mr.'s and Little Miss. I have not sacrificed them or compromised them or shorted them to benefit a strangers broken unwanted kid.

It isn't like that. It never was. It won't be. It can't be.

I take them in only when I believe that in the end, it will be OK.

Perfect?

No. Never. There is no such thing.

Am I some great mom? Something special? Out of the ordinary?

No. Not at all. I mess up big stuff all the time. I do the best I can with what I have and what I know, just the same as every one else in this parenting game.

I can tell you this, I have big dreams.

I have big dreams for all my kids. The forevers and the part timers. I have big dreams for them. I dream for them to chase their dreams.

I have big dreams for myself. I plan to have big dreams for myself until I am no longer able to dream them. I plan to chase them that long too. I may never get all the way to the realization, other things, life and people, may get "in the way" of those dreams, but they are the color in the life I live and I wouldn't want it any other way.

Bringing home Mr. Monkey tonight was, to say what I always say, bittersweet.

It was a bitter moment for me to be on the other side.

Almost exactly a year ago, I made a similar parking lot exchange of a little boy. The only difference was this time I was the chosen person. I was receiving the little boy instead of giving him away.

I stood in a cold, dark parking lot and hugged another mom, one I barely know, and cried with her. I promised her I would take good care of Mr. Monkey.

I know she cried all the way home.

I was the "lucky" mom who got to bring him home, and I cried all the way.

Tears of my loss last year, knowing it was the best thing possible for Little One, tears for her loss, knowing she will see Mr. Monkey again. Tears of plain frustration that we are passing a child back and forth in a parking lot like a drug deal.

Tears for these kids. There are so many.

I had to turn one down this week. I don't know where he will find a home, or if.

It's National Adoption Month. Saturday, 11/19 is National Adoption Day.

Foster to adopt is not a bad thing. But it is not an easy thing. Reality is, no adoption is an easy thing. It is loss clothed in joy. Forever bittersweet.

Consider opening your hearts, when you do, you will find room in your homes.

Fun and Games Friday

2011-11-18T09:43:00.001-06:00

I always have an opinion brewing, but every once in a while, wisdom takes over and I shut my mouth. So today, we're going to play along with our friends over at Friday Fill-Ins. Please add your fill-ins to the comments. Let's have a little Friday Fun and Games

1. As you can see _____. I really don't have a desire to write you a "real" blog today!

2. _____ soon! I have to go do some errands and chores...

3. I love to buy _____. nail polish, make up, jewelry, girly stuff, see yesterday's blog.

4. _____ gift(s). Silly gifts for no real reason are usually the best kind.

5. What's up with _____. all the attitude lately. Seriously now.

6. _____ fingertips. Everything is at your

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to _____, tomorrow my plans include _____ and Sunday, I want to _____

And as for the weekend, tonight I"m looking forward to a normal Friday night, tomorrow my plans include some house clutter gutting, and Sunday, I want to find a little peace and quiet.

Well, kids, that's it. Meet me in the comments with your Friday Fill-Ins.

Vanity Whore

2011-11-17T13:32:00.001-06:00

I'm 40.

And I confess it. I'm still a vanity whore. A girly girl. A whatever you want to call it.

Yup. I know I'm not some hott 20 something model. I know I'm rockin' a middle age-ish used mom body and all that. I know I'm more likely to have someone looking at my butt because there is a sticker stuck to it or something than because it's something to look at. I know I'm not in high school any more.

It's OK. I don't mind.

I still like to put on my make up and do my nails. I "dress" each day, meaning I pick out an outfit on purpose, I don't just throw something on. If you see me in junk clothes or sweats, you can bet I'm either in the middle of some big project or sicker than a dog. I love, love, love me some accessories. I am never without jewelry. I haul myself off to the salon and beg them to work their magic.

And in a way, it is a little magic.

Yes, I'll have coffee.
Yes, I'd love a neck wrap.
Of course you can give me a hand massage.

I like to see what's trendy and pick what parts I can use. I admit fully to having my own very quirky lack of style. Yeah, I'll wear heels on a Thursday when I'm staying home doing nothing, just because I can and they're cute.

Why shouldn't I?

This pile of "little" things I do for me, keep my attitude in a better place. If i make a point of caring about how I look, even when I'm the only one seeing myself, then I am more capable of caring about the things and people around me. When I feel like I look good and well taken care of, my attitude is positive and can do. I am more motivated to be the mom that goes the extra step. I'm more ready to bring my home up a notch or two on the clean it up scale. I'm a nicer wife and friend when I care about me.

When I like what I see in the mirror, I take better care of my body. I eat better and move more.

Was it always like this?

Nope. Not at all.

Back in the day, I was a vanity whore in an ever failing attempt to fit in. Those teens and 20's are rough business. I never did really figure out the secrets then, but I think I just might have it now.

For a long time, I forced myself into this place. I wanted to live in sweats and no make up. I didn't want to ever look in a mirror. I didn't care one bit what went into my mouth as long as it tasted good and dulled something.

But who can live that way for long?

I forced myself to dress nicer. I forced myself to put on some make up. I made myself put on some jewelry every day.

Little by little it became routine and little by little I started to feel better about myself and like myself in the mirror.

At first I thought it was about weight and size and money. About having just the right thing or look. Then I noticed something. Some of the hottest people I knew were none of those things. I knew some heavy curvy girls that rocked it like nobody's business. I knew some barely had a dollar to spare friends that had style pouring out of their pores.

How did that work?

They knew who they were and embraced it. That's the key, the secret. It's all in the knowing. You have to know yourself and like that person, then you can live in style however that might look, stick skinny or round S curves, designer label or thrift store, the look, the style comes from within.

Now? A lot of it, is a lot more fun for me. I call myself a vanity whore in the most positive laughing way possible. I have no delusions about the things I can't or shouldn't wear, but I know I have a strange style that I'm going to embrace anyway. It adds a little fun and life to the living when your bracelets jangle on your wrist or you find just the right shade of eye shadow. It's a little sweet spot in life to have that one pair of shoes you think is so crazy fab fun you smile in spite of the world every time you wear them. It's a moment in the sun to have that one outfit or pair of jeans or whatever it is to wear that you just know looks great on you and makes you stand a little taller, rock your walk a little more.

Life is a thing to grab a hold of and take a great big juicy bite out of.

Go find your inner vanity whore and rock your bad self one of these days. I guarantee it's worth it.

Adoption Pile On

2011-11-16T17:53:00.000-06:00

I don't typically blog more than once in a day, but I guess it's an exceptional day.

November is National Adoption Month. The goal being to make all of us more aware of the adoption needs within our country.

I usually ignore the activist month or day for whatever cause, no matter how good a cause it is or how much it touches my life. I'm just not a big shout if from the roof tops kind of gal.

However, there have been a number of things happening in my planet that bring it sharply into focus.

A wonderful family near and dear to us has been waiting far to long to adopt a very special sibling group. It is a classic example of a case getting lost in the foster care system. It is painful to watch. It is even more painful for them to live as they struggle month after month living in the uncertainty of what happens next. No child fully settles until there is permanency.

Another wonderful amazing family I am related to is going through a similar situation of almost to the adoption and then, in foster care land, yet another shoe drops. They are living faith every day.

Here in our house, Little Miss is a part of our forever family through adoption. At 5 we already walk some tricky paths of skin color and questions. Getting grounded or sent to time out brings out the words, "I want my other mama!" Her memories of her "other mama" are more imagined fantasy than reality, but they will always be.

It has come sharply into the foreground today. Life is simply happening.

Little Miss has to bring a special something to class tomorrow for a glorified show and tell. She picked the one possession she has from her birth mom. I felt compelled to write the teacher a note explaining some of the situation because I can only imagine how exactly Little Miss will explain this special item to her classmates. Where it came from and what it is and why exactly is it special to her. I'm not sure even she knows fully why it is so special to her.

And then I started thinking about Mr. Monkey. He moves in on Friday. He will come with the one possession he has from his birth mom. We have been asked to take care of it for him, which of course, we will. How could we not? It is his one, singular connection to a past he is actually old enough to carry memories of. His adoption is in our future.

As if all of that is not enough, I have been contacted by a fellow blogger to give an interview of sorts about adoption experiences and how they have shaped our family, our lives. I am undecided on that as yet.

If all of this did not have my attention, the phone call this afternoon certainly did.

It was the county. She said she knew we are moving Mr. Monkey in on Friday with adoption pending, but she had to call. She said she knew the timing was off. She said she knew it would be hard. She said, "we knew you wouldn't be afraid of his issues".

Then she said, will you take another, it's heading straight to adoption, or as straight as any foster care case goes, and will you take him. Will you take another?

So now we pray. We hold family meetings. We question. We pray. We try to collect the hints, the nudges, the signs and put them into something that makes sense. We listen for that Voice that tells us what to do.

We have what seems like mere moments to make a decision that effects lifetimes.

I open my email and see the note, Adopt Magazine has it's new issue out. There are so many kids, so great a need. At Crumbs From a Full Plate my friend talks about supporting a child and giving away what we so often think of as ours, in Thinking Outside My House. Another friend of mine blogged today at Live From Ninevah about seeing Jesus in the people all around us, in Jesus in Dirty Jeans.

The timing and coincidence of these things all at once is not at all lost on me.

So now? Pray and listen. If you are so moved, please pray for us, for this boy, the workers and family members involved, for all of us to be wise in this enormous decision.

Grow Up Already!

2011-11-16T08:48:00.001-06:00

NaBloPoMo is offering up a juicy one today!

The prompt is: What is the moment you leave childhood and enter adulthood?

This is such a great question, but I'm not sure where to start on it.

Where is the line is a topic that has come up lots of times in my life in different forms. It came up a ton in my own life, where did I stop being a kid and start being a grown up? Then as a parent you tackle it in trying to raise kids that will be "ready" to go live the life they were born for. As a girl friend and mentor it's come up as I've tried to nudge, encourage, heck, straight up shove someone into adulthood.

And every time, it's tricky. It's complicated because the shift is much more emotional than we give it credit for.

It would be easy if we could sit back on the adult side and say, oh here it is. As soon as you have a job and work X amount of hours per week, earn this kind of money, pay your own way, live on your own, blah, blah, blah, then, then you are an adult.

Those things, although very adult in nature, do not make an adult, it seems.

It seems the shift to adult happens somewhere in the mind, the heart. It's all rolled into experiences and feelings.

Making the leap from child to adult is, I think for many of us, not a singular moment, but a collection of them stretching across a space of time in our lives.

We come to realize our parents are simply human, just like us. We come to see that we have dreams and desires that are our own and not those of our parents. A person reaches the place where they realize a dream can in fact be chased after and caught. We realize the impact and influence of our parents, our families, our collective upbringing experiences and value them, but decide for ourselves how much of that we want to wear in our lives and what parts we simply want to learn from and not repeat or mirror as adults. Mistakes are many in this season, sometimes costly, but owned by the maker.

Sometimes a part of it is in the knowing that no matter how loved we are by our parents and families, we are standing on our own now. The things we do or don't do have their out comes and consequences and we have to take them whether we like them or not. There is no longer anyone there to hold our hand, clean up our messes after us, get us that special "pass" because we're young or inexperienced or whatever excuse our parents may have been willing to make for us.

For some of us these transitions from child to adult come easy. Our families set us up and our lives provided us with plenty of experience and confidence to slide seamlessly out of one and into the other. Some of us, were over protected or maybe not quite tuned in to our own lives and weren't as ready. Adulthood was more thrust upon us as an frustrating shock. We may have been unprepared for the reality of life, not being anything like what we imagined, simply because we spent to much time and energy imagining and pretending. Maybe we didn't have enough of those, life is just tough and unfair experiences, to be ready for the first time real life dumped on us while we were on our own.

Sometimes getting from childhood to adult requires a fight, sometimes even the fight of your life. Out of love and/or good intentions a well meaning family may hold on too tight, my not be willing to let go, may not be able to see their "baby" move on. This step into adulthood often comes with anger and resentment, fear and doubt. The joys in the transitions, the wins and successes are over shadowed by hurt, pain and guilt.

It's not an easy question to answer. It's not an easy one to "do right" and who really knows if there is a right way. We all have to eventually make our way from child to adult, because the alternative is disaster, right? We all know some of those people that are living adult lives, but in reality are not adults. Their lives are running them over and filled with chaos and pain. They are disappointed and frustrated. These are often people that believe, even when they think they don't, that life somehow owes them something, or that they are just destined to get the raw end of things. Sometimes it's even couched in the guise of religious beliefs, you know, the whole, my treasures are stored in heaven so I just have to grit my teeth and accept this hard, painful life, instead of thinking maybe your God just wants you to be more of an active partner in your own life.

I think in the end it's complicated. It's a book not an essay. It's a life snatched up and lived all in or a life missed while waiting for the magic to come.

What do you think?

...In Bed

2011-11-15T11:40:00.001-06:00

You know that game you play where after your read your fortune cookie fortune you add in bed to have some laughs? Well, that's my answer to today's NaBloPoMo prompt, describe a favorite place.

I'm pretty sure it's not a secret. My favorite place in the whole world to be is in my bed.

I love my bed.

I really do. It is truly my favorite place to be. It's big and beautiful and comfortable.

I love crawling into at night to finally go to sleep.

I love to hide in it when the world is overwhelming.

I love to lay in it and read.

It's the perfect day dreaming place.

It's great for coffee and news papers.

Or laptops and notebooks.

It's tranquility and comfort. It's the perfect nap on a sunny Sunday afternoon. It's the ultimate full moon through the open window place to be.

My favorite place to be is....in my bed.

Where's yours?

Fear

2011-11-14T08:45:00.001-06:00

NaBloPoMo asks a classic question this morning.

Have you faced fears and overcome them?

Oh. My. Where to start on a prompt like this?

I am a person who lived a long stretch of my life consumed by fear.

Fears of everything and anything. There was a part of my life where fear was almost constant. I was really afraid of almost all of my own life.

It was a hard way to live. It was sad and dark and depressing. It was exhausting. Spending that much energy being afraid and worried drains you in so many ways.

You are probably thinking to yourself, what could you possibly be afraid of?

I'll give you a partial list of things I was afraid of in this part of my life.

being alone
driving
making phone calls to people I didn't know, even to do basic things like set up a dentist appointment
that I would make mistakes on the job
traveling
school
that I would do something that would call attention to myself
to shop
to say no
any sort of interaction that was unfamiliar because I might do it wrong
to do anything that felt right to me, but was outside what I thought was the norm--like change a job or quit school or whatever
to cook
to start a fire

Over the years of my life, I've learned how to face a lot of these down. I've found the tools to be able to at least function through all these fears. There are a lot of those things I still don't like to take on or do, but I at least now know how to do them and handle myself through them. I am no longer stopped or stuck in my life because of fears.

Part of the way through it came from a friend pointing out to me a Biblical truth. She simply said, God tells us not to worry, not to be afraid. When you choose do be afraid or to worry over something, you are in open defiance to God. The she asked point blank, "Do you want to stand in defiance to God?"

That settled a lot of it right there for me.

I did have to dwell on it a lot and pray and study it to "get it". There are healthy and reasonable amounts of fear and worry that we need to have to live. Those are more in the vein of being aware of your circumstance and being proactive and prepared, not paralyzed in fear and worry.

The second thing that helped me to overcome fear and worry, was therapy. I did a few years in therapy. It was hard. It wasn't fun. It was however, probably one of the best things I've ever done for myself in my life. I worked through a lot of things I had carried for most of my life. I learned tools to make my way through life in the least self destructive ways, the most healthy ways possible for me, for my family. I learned how to make peace with myself, to like myself, to walk on even ground, as much as I can.

That was the long answer to a short question.

Yes. I've been afraid in my life. Yes. I've faced fears down. Therapy and God. We all get there eventually, that spot where we see ourselves living in fear, some of us quit, decide that 's just how life is, just how our life is and nothing can be done about it so oh well, poor me; some of us decide that that kind of life isn't enough, we want more and we're willing to put in the work, grit our teeth through the hard stuff and get to the other side.

I'd say the other side is life. Living.

But that's just me. Just my life. Facing down the fear and worry for me, meant finally having a life and living it.

What Counts

2011-11-13T20:50:00.001-06:00

I've been on a blog streak. 2 1/2 months without a miss.

Tonight's post is almost a miss. Last night's was too.

Sometimes blogging is therapy in a way, a sort of reflection and observation of life. Sometimes that life is just out there in the bigger circle. Sometimes that life is your immediate circle of friends and family.

Blogs are things that walk the line of too little and then in turn not interesting or too much and being like a train wreck.

For right now, the best I can say is transitions are tough. Compared to other kids we've taken in over the last 5+ years, Mr. Monkey is "old". It will be hard. It is hard.

So my time, my attention goes to the kids, to the family, to those relationships instead of here. Blog streaks are cool and fun but life right here under my roof and in my heart is what really counts.

With that, my apology for the "cheat" posts these last two days. Set your expectations, there may be more like this to come, or even a gap of posts.

Saturday Night

2011-11-12T14:50:00.001-06:00

I'm a mom.

I live in shirts with holes and mom jeans. I wear the same sweat shirt almost every day.

Tonight I have to put on a dress. Not just any dress. A black tie formal dress.

But it's OK. It's for a great cause and it's always a fun night.

Go ahead and check out St. Marcus School if you have the time.

#11 Magic & Wishes

2011-11-11T08:31:00.001-06:00

So today is 11/11/11. A sort of magical day if you're into that sort of stuff. Just like some of us always mark 11:11 day and night as a "magic moment". For me, it's not a wish moment, but just a small pause to think of a person I share it with. It's a silly little thing we share, just because.

But today is loaded, hee hee hee, because of it's numbers, and magical.

In a strange and odd way, it actually is.

A year ago yesterday, I wrote this about what we did on 11/9/10. I've been alternately looking back over it and intentionally ignoring it. It was hard then, even though it was the right thing to do, and it's still hard today.

My mail box is a couple of houses away from where I live, don't ask, but the weather was gross yesterday and I never got around to picking up the mail. This morning when I took a letter to the mailbox, I picked up yesterdays mail.

There was a thick envelope. Instantly recognizable to me. Court documents. We are foster parents. It's not an uncommon thing in our mailbox. I began opening the envelope while walking back to my house.

It was not at all what I expected.

It's court documents for the TPR of my soon to be son, Mr. Monkey. He hasn't even moved into our home yet. He's still on the respite rotation and yet in my hands I hold documents making it more forever than the settings already reflect.

The weight of this envelope is much more than the stack of papers folded and stuffed inside. This pile of papers, this mumbo jumbo of legal jargon tells a story. It tells a story I don't know, and it's the story of my son.

Yeah. He's mine. Yes. I agreed sort of sight unseen. Yes. I spent only a short hour or so with him before choosing forever. Yes. I just simply trust that it will be OK in the end.

He's a kid. He needs a family. He needs a chance. He needs love. He needs hope.

Today, I'll sift through this long string of sentences and try to strain out the legal cover your ass stuff to find the story line. Mixed into the party of this and the motion of that are the statements, the facts of my child's past.

He comes to me from a black hole. There are contacts and ties we will be blessed with, but there will be gaps, holes, forever in his beginnings. There will be only the most scant story of his first years.

Those baby years that you have cherished with your kids, taking note of every single first, photographing every little thing, I don't have with this precious child. He has a black hole. When he graduates high school or gets married, there will be no photo story board with baby pictures. I can't tell him the story of his birth or his first steps or his first words. Simply put, they don't exist. There aren't any pictures. There aren't any stories. No one noticed. No one remembered. No one saw.

This life is such a funny and difficult thing. It's hardness comes in the way time is unforgiving. When you lose a moment, when you lose time, there is no second chance. There is no way to just go back and have it again or have more later. It's just simply gone.

We can choose to toss our time away on sleeping in or watching TV or whatever our pleasure is, but when it's at the cost of time spent with people, it can't be gained back, it's just gone. Maybe it's being 40 that makes me see it so plainly these days. Maybe it's the deaths that are touching the fringes of my life. Maybe it's the way some kids get stuck in the system. Who knows what it is.

But a moment lost, is a moment lost forever. Even when we shake it off and say it's OK, another day, or there's always tomorrow, or I'll always be around, time ticks and we don't get it back. Life is short, even when it's lived out for many, many years, it's short and then it's gone.

And so I'm back around to this magical 11/11/11 day. What will happen? Probably nothing out of the ordinary and yet it is the ordinary that will make it extraordinary. I will go later to pick up Mr. Monkey to spend another weekend with us before it becomes forever.

I don't know that I'll be wishing today. I think I'll be wondering instead.

Wondering about this little boy plucked out of black hole and dropped into my heart.

Passion

2011-11-10T10:59:00.001-06:00

NaBloPoMo today is all about passions. The prompt is to have the writer tell about one of their secret or not so secret passions in life.

I'm a pretty open book person. It takes about a week on here to gather that I'm a nut about books and words and writing. People and kids and family are a big stinking deal to me. I'm pretty bent on trying to be as fully alive and present as possible in this life. I love good food and time spent in my kitchen. I love that I have the freedom to be creative in so many parts of my life. I'm pretty adamant that a little person doing a small thing can make a huge difference and you'll never fully see your impact in this life. I believe that all of life should come with some kind of sound track. I believe in laughter and tears and the fact that the best lives are bittersweet ones, lived right on the edge of in between perfect and heart ache.

I don't know if I'd call any of those passions, as much as they are simply a part of my core. They are pieces of the essence of who I am. I want to get to the end and know I lived all in, missteps and all.

What about you? What are your passions?

Our House

2011-11-09T17:30:00.002-06:00

So the question posed today is: When did you first realize that your home was different?

Well, I'm not so sure I really ever did.

All the way through my childhood and even through high school, I was pretty oblivious to the world around me. I was not a kid that got invited to things, so I never really spent much time at other people's houses. Thinking back I remember only a single time I went to a sleep over. I remember going to one birthday party in middle school and one party in high school. I never went to a sleep away camp or on a mission trip. My first real amount of time away from home was college.

As my "adult" years have unwound, there have been plenty of times however, where I've realized my home is very different.

In the start of my adult and married life, my home was different because we had more bills to pay than our friends. That was because most of our friends were couples where both people having degrees and higher paying professional careers. I never finished and worked jobs with lower payouts. Plus I went back to school.

Probably the next time I realized things were different was after I had kids. I was more lax about house keeping and organization than my friends. They were into decorating and having their houses look a certain way. I was more into cheap and kid friendly.

The next round was when we started trying to work with Autism in our lives through what went into our mouths and our environment. We got real careful about what we put on our plates and on our skin. My friends were going green and healthy but in a completely different angle.

Then we became foster parents and really had no friends besides my sister-in-laws amazing family, doing what we did. Again, we were different. Who has a family that sometimes has 2 kids, then 5, then 3, then 2 again? At the time we didn't know other families that were multi-color.

Our home is still different. In a way, we are always in a state of revolving door. In the last year, November to November, there have been 6 moves in and out of our house. Some of those ins and outs overlapped each other.

Our home is loud. It's messy. It's full. Full of stuff and people and noises and smells. It's warm. (I don't like cold.) I hope it's welcoming, even if you have to step over a matchbox car or a dog or small kid. I hope it's generous and giving of our stuff and time and attention. I hope it's bursting to overflowing with love, even when there are raised voices or sharp words in between music and dogs and games and kids.

Our home has love, and love hopes.

I Know This Will Shock You...

2011-11-08T09:51:00.001-06:00

But, I don't like the blog prompt at NaBloPoMo today.

The prompt is: Has anything traumatic ever happened to you? Describe the scenes.

And my first thought on this is um, No. Just. No. Stop. Don't write it.

Blogs should not be train wrecks. Even if our lives sometimes are, the blogs don't need to be.

I read the prompt, early today, they come to me on my Twitter, so I often see them before I even get out of bed. Yes. I am one of those people. My phone is my alarm and I shut it off then roll over and scan my emails, Tweets and the ever insane Facebook. And yes. I'm aware it's not good for me. Instant media over dosing and all of that. I am completely aware. But I am an adult and if I want that to be my cigarette, then so be it, there is no second hand smoke to poison you, so leave me be. The point here though, was that I get the prompt right away and begin thinking before I'm out of my bed.

This prompt brought a particularly strong reaction and made me take notice. I usually find them to be interesting, often thought provoking, which is good. It means they are doing their job. And quite frankly, making my blogging job just that much easier.

My second thought about this prompt, after NO, NO, NO, NO, NO.....was a very conscious decision that I was not going to be stopping over at BlogHer today to read these. I don't want to. This is not the kind of blogging I want to read.

There was a post at BlogHer and a blog I read yesterday about empathy and that is a powerful thing, a powerful way to let our blogging lives change us hopefully for the better, hopefully in a way that shrinks the world down into an actual community made up of people who can simply recognize the humanity in each other. Wow. That would go a long way, don't you think?

But what about this trauma prompt? Why am I having such an intense backlash to it?

I think it's this.

All lives have trauma. Each one of us defines it differently. But if we spend even a single writing day focused on it, a single day of reading page after page of it, we're going to come out tainted and jaded and dark. Most of us will write these stories of our lives and our traumas, with the writers or story tellers dramatic flair. We will dwell on the drama and the pain. We will one up each other in the very gore of our lives.

Very few of us will write tales of inspiration, courage, faith, determination or the will to overcome. These will not feel like stories that build us up and encourage us to push each other along in this life. They will be overwhelming stories of sadness, loss and destruction.

I don't say these things as a woman without trauma scenes to write about in my own life. I've had the baby in the NICU. I've had the accidents that literally changed my face forever. I've made choices that were devastatingly bad. I've walked away from a car wreck that was mind boggling. I've lost people in my life that I never thought I could let go of. I've been down the money path. I've had the health scare. I could go on and on and on.

But that's not the point.

We all have those laundry lists in our lives if we really stop to look for them. Everyone has trauma of some sort in their lives.

But who wants to read it?

That's where we lose the fine line between a blog and a personal journal. You all know exactly what I'm talking about. It's the same reason you hide some of your friends on your Facebook, because you can't stand to read one more day of drivel. It's not fun or interesting or challenging or value adding to read a whole day's worth of: "Guess what? I woke up, peed and showered." "Now, I'm having cereal with milk." "It's time to take a dump." "I need another cup of coffee." And on and on and on.

You know exactly what I'm talking about. You skip over those blogs too. The ones that are just a long personal journal of I did the laundry and we had fish sticks for dinner, the kids did their homework and watched TV, then we went to bed. Day after day after mind numbing day. You stop reading those. Even when it's your real life friend.

Now, for most bloggers, not the professional work blogs, just the average one, our lives absolutely bleed into our writing. Our lives are where all the thoughts begin. Experiences are what tweak our thoughts and opinions.

And that my friends, is what I like to read. It's what I like to write. I want to be a little challenged or up ended by someone's thoughts and opinions. I want you to be a little side stepped by mine.

I want to read a blog and think. I do not want to read them and have it simply be a train wreck experience of one up-ing drama that is so overwhelming I can't look away from it.

And maybe I'm completely wrong here. Maybe there will be a zillion new blog posts today filled with courage and inspiration and thoughts.

If you find some of those today, leave a link in the comments. We could all use to read those kinds of posts and it's always good to be corrected when I'm wrong.

Balancing or Prioritizing?

2011-11-07T14:43:00.000-06:00

So the question today is about how you balance work, family and writing, and at first I thought, this is a question that does not apply to me because I don't have a job.

Then I started thinking again.

I do have a job. It's just a job that I work 24/7 at home, so it doesn't look like a job. In a way it doesn't even feel like a job. I think if I intentionally thought of it and approached it as a job, I would do a very poor job of doing my job.

Foster Parenting is like that. It's a job that really starts with that first call from the county and ends with a court ruling of some sort. It might last a few short days or it could be years or even a lifetime. It looks a lot like regular parenting and we completely discount parenting as a job, but that's another blog.

So that left me thinking though, how do I balance my job, foster parent; my role as mom and wife to my family; and my writing time.

My first thought was that I really don't. They are all sort of intertwined and co mingled.

My family knows that I write. I write all the time in between everything else we do. Our foster kids quickly learn, that's what I do. They adapt quickly to understand that I sit at the computer and type.

The kids and the family things always come first.

Even if they have to wait a minute or two for me to finish a sentence or getting a thought down, they know they are first. So I think, at least for me, for us, it's not so much a question of balance as much as priority.

From November To November

2011-11-06T18:21:00.000-06:00

My internal clock is a little off and not just because today is the day we change our timing thanks to Day Light Savings. Most people make reflections and evaluations and resolutions about their lives in January or December, as one year ends and another begins. For me, though, that always seems to happen in November, the month focused on a singular moment of being thankful.

That build up to the Thankful meal, makes me look back over my year and see what I am or should be thankful for. The actual Thanksgiving meal is for me a thankful moment too. I am certain that any one who has ever joined us for our very insane family event, would not see me being thankful. It is loud and chaotic and busy and long. There is ridiculous amounts of foods and drinks and joy. My thankful moment is there though. There is always a moment when I separate myself from all that is happening, from all the motion and loudness and people, and stop.

In that moment, I can see it all. It's like being there but watching instead of participating and that is when I have those prayer moments, those I am thankful for each and every one of you and all that has taken us from the last gathering to this one.

But back to November as a whole. This is my month of reflection. It's intensely personal. It helps me form the picture of what comes next. It helps me see where I need to grow and change and correct.

Sometimes just the sheer volume of what has happened in a single years time is awesome. This year, from November to November has really been something. So today, a laundry list of my year.

we gave up Little One
I wrote a 50,000 word short novel
I was in a car wreck that destroyed our 12 passenger van
I bought a new 12 passenger van
Chicklet moved in
Little Mr. became a teenager
select baseball with Littlest Mr. and The Mr. coaching, one season complete, another begun
football--a full season, every practice, every game, NO ambulance or concussion
wrestling began, was finished and has begun again
Chicklet moved out
Little T came
Little T went home
we agreed to adopt Mr. Monkey and began the transition
we bought another car
we landscaped our yard
we spent Christmas and New Years at Disney (5 of us--thank you again Chicklet for watching the house and the dog)
The Mr. and I went to Vegas
I went to Mankato, twice
The Peeps and I made a million great memories
sigh, I turned 40 and the same wonderful Peeps from above "decorated" my yard and van for me
we decided to change churches
I'm again writing another 50,000 word novel
Packers won the Superbowl, some great party!
Brewers went to the playoffs, amazing memories with the family
we had 3 kids in 3 schools, including a middle school
Little Miss graduated preschool/Head Start/4K and started Kindergarten
Chicklet and I had a girls weekend in Chicago
the 3 kids had their first flights
The Mr.'s job changed completely, giving him new responsibilities
we attended 2 charity gala's with a 3rd black tie pending in a week
I became a blond and then a very very dark brunet!
I land marked my body, twice
we bought new furniture
we painted almost the whole inside of the house--(Thank you to The Drummer)
we moved the kids rooms around too many times to count
we killed another lap top
we switched to iPhone and have become corrupted to the was of Apple
I have blogged daily for 2 months and one week running

I'm sure there is more than that, but it's enough to give even me pause, and it's my own life. It makes me realize that in those moments when I think I'm not doing enough or not living enough, there it is, a list on paper.

When do you stop to evaluate and reflect? Is it the traditional New Years time? Your birthday? I'm curious, when?

Wish I Could Eat My Words

2011-11-05T09:27:00.000-06:00

Sometimes things are just hard.

This seems to be one of those kinds of weekends.

I wish I could chalk it all up to some great big horrible event, but it's just the pile up of the life we live. Some parts of it are hard.

Transitions are hard. Especially hard on kids. Sometimes there is grace and it all goes easy. Sometimes there are hard words and hurt hearts and it goes rough. None of my kids are easy ones. Sometimes all their hard hits the fan at the same time.

Some of it is just the new. Mr. Monkey is the oldest kid we've ever tried to transition into our lives, but he's also quite young and unexposed. He is truly learning how to be around people. That's a tremendous challenge to ask my "adjusted" kids to handle.

There are lots of other raw feelings around here and for me it's double hard. Those hurt feelings come from the outcome of the sharpness of my tongue. I spoke yesterday out of my own pain instead of my brain or thought for others and the cost was enormous.

Words are not always my friends.

How Do You Do What You Do?

2011-11-04T08:02:00.000-06:00

That's the question today from NaBloPoMo. How do you write, pen to paper or computer all the way?

I guess I'm a split personality writer.

For a long time, I was a bit of a purist and wrote only pen to paper. It was easy. Note books were cheap and unless you were a huge pen snob, pens were cheap. I was both. I had stacks of cheap, 3 for a buck notebooks and tons of ball points from everywhere and anywhere. Those were my staples. But I also had a weakness. I had some really fine journals. Amazing covers. Paper with just the right feel and texture. For the longest time I had an amazing ink pen. It wrote like a dream. The ink was messy and expensive, but it was killer. Right now, I'll confess to a total Sharpie Pen addiction.

Computers kept creeping into my life. First at work, then in life. Learning to use them carries a tremendous learning curve for me and often the stress of trying to use the technology was enough to push me back to the old familiar comfort of paper and pen. There is nothing complicated about flipping open a notebook and writing. It takes no time to start. Nothing disappears by accident. The scratched out bits show the rabbit hole of the mind.

Technology kept on rolling along, all enticing and supposedly getting easier and easier to use. I learned more, not necessarily because I wanted to, but because the requirements were there. I needed to be able to use the machines well to do my jobs. You can't be any one's executive secretary if you can't create documents and letters. I had debts. I needed those jobs. Sometimes you learn to do something because you have to do what you have to do to take care of those you are responsible for.

In school and in my writers dreams it got more and more necessary too, to be able to use a computer easily and productively. In the course of those years, it became a requirement to turn in your work done on computer. It became impossible to submit writing unless done on a computer. Then it evolved again and had to be done via electronic submissions.

So I have learned, sometimes kicking and screaming along the way, but I have adapted. There are many things out there somewhere in computer never-never land, sucked away and lost mid-thought. It's a steep learning curve. On the other hand, now I have novels saved off on flash drives.

I've gotten the hang of using this "new" writing medium. I'm not very sophisticated, but there are plenty of technology things now that delight me once I figure them out. I usually still have to have someone teach me unless I have hours and hours to sit and learn it on my own, but I have my Peeps who always help me out, when I'm too stupid and too impatient. I have kids. Technology has always been part of their lives so it's intuitive to them and they help me a lot too, complete with eye rolls, but it's OK.

Pretty honestly at this point I can say I like to write on my computer. I like the capacity to have other things open and going at the same time. It is a feature to me that I can have Pandora playing away, and Facebook open and Skype and my email all right there while I'm writing. I love the ability to switch windows and look up a thought. Google it, as we now all say. I've stumbled across things like Yarny that thrill me.

Now, all this technology embracing aside, I still write pen to paper. I don't like to travel with my laptop. I have never gotten comfortable with taking my machine and going to a coffee shop or whatever to write. That's not me. It's distracting. It freaks me out. Notebook, sure. Laptop? No thanks.

And there are some things worth paper. Personal journals have to be paper. Even if years later you burn them or shred them or just throw them away. Over the years I have destroyed lots of paper writing. Journals and stories and poetry and all kinds of things. Computers don't allow that privacy, that control. Everything always lurks out there somewhere, somehow, or at least that's what we're all told all the time and for some of us unable to figure it all out, we just believe that.

Letters are worth paper. Email is great, very immediate, but letters are something to hold. There are unwritten things to be gained in letters. The pen strokes, the curves or sharpness of the letters. The very paper chosen, how it's smooth or wrinkled, coffee stained or kids fingerprints. It can be a remembrance of things lost, things that can never be again. It's a shred of a life to hold, even if just for a moment.

So you can see clearly now, I'm a split writer. I use both to suit my whims. Technology lends me productivity, I only need to attack a task once or twice. Paper has a weight to it, a realness to it that comes with nothing else. I need them both.

Wrapped In Music

2011-11-03T09:56:00.000-06:00

Hat tip to NaBloPoMo today for their blog prompt. Can you listen to music and write? What was the last song you heard?

The short answer to the question is yes.

YES

Yes. I almost can't imagine writing in silence. It happens now and again, but it's exceptionally rare for me.

My whole life seems to be bathed in music. I write with music. Lots of music. All kinds of music. Usually very loud music.

I like loud. I am that person with the headphones that you can hear my music. And I don't care that you can hear it. I really don't.

And I don't care that you think my music choices are odd either. I have wide and varying listening capacities. There are lots and lots and lots of things I like to listen to.

I love when people "give" me music. You know, those go listen to this or that or here's a play list. I love it.

Inventions like Pandora delight me ridiculously.

Now, depending on what I'm working on for writing, I listen to different things.

When I'm blogging, I tend to be early in my day so the radio is still on in my house and I'm just listening to whatever station is on. It's usually a pop station, but sometimes country makes it way into my house, it's rare though, and lately almost never.

When I'm working on something big, like a novel, either writing or revision, it's one of two things. I either flip on the iPod and listen to one of the play lists I have or I head straight for Pandora. I have my favorites. I'd start listing, but it would just take way to long.

Silence is good. It has it's place and I spend time with it often enough, but the majority of my life is wrapped in music. I wouldn't want it any other way.

If I Knew...

2011-11-02T10:13:00.001-06:00

The prompt today over on the NaBloPoMo is "If you knew your next meal was your last, what would it be?"

So far the answers I've read on fellow bloggers blogs have been exactly what I expected. There is a lot of talk about savoring the food, being present in the moment, the company you would keep during this last meal and so on. None of those are bad. Not at all.

Quite honestly for myself, I think if I knew it was my last meal, I wouldn't be hungry.

I can't imagine myself looking ahead and seeing the moment of my own death looming and suddenly being focused on food.

It's not that I don't enjoy food. I do. I'm a bit of a junkie when it comes to cooking and food and so on.

There is a part of me that thinks I'd like to spend those last moments with the people I love, but then I start thinking, where is the cut off? Would it be my husband and kids? Would it include my parents and siblings? Sibling-in-laws? What about my besties? What about the rest of my family?

Then I start thinking, wait a minute, do I really want any of them there? Would I really want my people, my loves to see my last minutes? What would that do to them? That might be a horrible thing for them to be a part of. I might like it, but it might be awful for them and leave them in therapy for years! Especially my kids, that might not be good at all.

Maybe it could be just a quiet moment alone. I don't get many of those, quiet moments or moments alone, both together would be impressive in a way, but then again, after I'm dead, won't I have peace?

What if I spent those moments leaving messages for the people I love, letters or recorded messages or something? Except, that I know myself, and I know how deep my love is for these people and I realize there isn't enough words or time to say it all to each one, and who gets less? Who gets slighted and bears that for the rest of their lives? Nope. I don't want that either.

Wow, it seems what would you eat Wednesday turned into how morbid and depressing can you be!

Guess I should change my answer, I'll have red wine and home made pasta.

November, The Thankful Month

2011-11-01T08:42:00.001-06:00

Today is November 1. For most of you that means the count downs begin. The count down to Thanksgiving, to Christmas shopping, to cookie baking and candy making, to Advent, to Christmas itself.

To me November 1 is significant because it's the first day of a set of challenges, both the NaBloPoMo, now hosted on BlogHer and the NaNoWriMo. Big acronyms for crazy challenges. NaBloPoMo is the National Blog Post Month. November is the anniversary month of this event. It goes on monthly now, but it didn't always. NaNoWriMo is the National Novel Writing Month. 200,000+ people decide to spend the month of November putting their stories to paper and writing short novels 50,000 words or more.

So the writing prompt today from NaBloPoMo was, "What is your favorite part of writing?"

My favorite part of writing is that it is simply dreaming. For me, writing stories is simply about dreaming. I never gave up all those little girl fantasy dreams, all those hours of make believe, I've kept tucked away inside of me.

I went ahead and grew up, just like you're supposed to. I went to college, held jobs out there in the "real world", got married, had kids, adopted kids and so on. I've been living in this grown up real world, functioning and really living, sucking in the experiences as much as I can.

But at the same time, I've held on to the make believe of being a little girl.

When I was in grade school, maybe 7 or 8, I would play bunnies with another little girl. Every recess we would go off to a little part of the playground not much used by the other kids and we would begin our stories of make believe. We would gather little bundles of grass and those bundles were our bunnies. On the weekends, I would lay out my entire room including the closet with carpet squares and doll furniture. Barbie and her girls would have adventure after adventure. Through middle school and high school those classes I couldn't pay attention in, I was deep inside my own mind telling stories, sometimes the same scene or conversation over and over, editing in my mind, to get it just right, never writing them out because who wants to get caught in class.

Between high school and now, I've both kept the faith and lost it. I had seasons where I thought the answer was to go all in and write for my life, but I was young and didn't know what my stories were and I didn't have the courage to write them for real. I played at being a writing and oddly enough, it didn't work out. In another season, I decided to just be a for real grown up and forgo the make believe of writing dreams. Once again, oddly enough, that didn't work out either. I was not happy pretending the stories weren't in me trying to be told and I missed my time of pen to paper.

So now, it's yet another season in the journey of my life, the one where I decide that it's OK to write and tell stories. It's OK to write the stories that are mine to tell, from my make believe and stand fierce and brave in the face of judgements and misunderstandings. It's the season to see that there can be a balance between a real grown up life and the make believe story telling.

I'll be blogging daily again this month. One, because I like writing. Two, because it's a good warm up exercise, if you will, before I sit to do my story telling writing for the day. Three, because it's a challenge and it's out there to be done. I'll also this November, be putting in my efforts to write a draft of a book that's pressing on my brain to be told.

Maybe November isn't your time to write or writing isn't your challenge, but maybe it's time to find a challenge. I know people taking challenges to eat healthy-not diet, just eat healthy. I know some planning to read a book daily-not the Bible, just a book, any book. I know some who plan to break a sweat daily in exercise. I know some planning to pray daily. Because November is a "Thankful" month, it's also a good time to be challenged. 30 days. One challenge. No excuses. Try.

Halloween

2011-10-31T20:07:00.001-06:00

1 teenage vampire
1 foot ball player zombie
1 princess fairy vampire

2 hours of trick or treating
The Mr. got 2 adult treats! A full size candy bar and an adult beverage.

I gave away almost 6 of the 50+ piece bags of candy this year.

I only saw 2 Angry Bird costumes.
No costumes that actually scared me this year.
2 dogs in costume.

1 pizza before trick or treat
1 pizza after trick or treat

3 pillow cases of candy-enough to cover my kitchen table
1 bag of goodies donated to Chicklet

8 jack-o-lanterns

10 diaper wipes to remove all the make up

lots of kids so young I was nervous giving them candy---hope their parents are eating it and the babies aren't choking on it

almost every single kiddo said thank you, loud and clear

Tomorrow--3 kids in school with candy hang overs!

Between

2011-10-30T20:35:00.001-06:00

I live somewhere between i-everything and the Amish when it comes to technology.

I'm not very tech savey, in fact, I'd say I'm just about technology illiterate.

My adventure tonight involves photos, my phone and some photo web sites.

It's pretty simple, or so I'm told, to move the pictures from my phone to this web place so that myself and a few other people can check them out or print them out or whatever they want, but this is me, so simple it is not.

I'll putter around with it for a couple more hours I"m sure, but I don't like feeling dumb.

These are the times I miss "the old times" when pictures were on film and what you got back was a surprise instead of an instant, lets take and retake until we get a good shot then up load it to a zillion web sites and make a book and a poster and a mug and...yeah.

It's like the other day with the teachers and trying to get the information I need as the mom from them and being frustrated with the technology. That was the day I missed paper.

I'm one day away from the NaNoWriMo and I'll be typing my 50,000+ words on a micro lap top. It's nice to have any computer, so I"m not complaining, but at the same time, at the end of it, I know I'm going to be longing to write on paper for a while.

Where do you fall in the spectrum?

I Never Meant To Be A Mentor

2011-10-29T12:12:00.000-06:00

Mentor is a little word with a lot of weight.

It is defined as: A wise and trusted counselor or teacher, an influential senior sponsor or supporter.

That's a lot of pressure!! It's a responsibility.

We all wear a lot of labels in our lives and some of those thrust us into the position of mentor whether we mean to be there or not.

For a part of my life, I was almost intentional in a way about not being a mentor. I wanted to be about me. I didn't want to deal with the idea that someone else would be potentially watching me and in turn intentionally following my example.

Life kept going though, because that's what time does, and my labels changed. I became mom, special needs mom, home school mom, public school mom, foster mom, friend, writer and so on. In a way all these labels lend themselves to mentoring, whether that is your intent or not. Life just sort of puts you in that position.

I still don't like the label of mentor or the responsibility of it all. Just hearing someone use the word mentor with me makes me bristle.

But, I do understand.

If I could modify the definition to be a trusted supporter, I think I could find a way to be OK with it.

I think with my fellow foster moms, I'm not a mentor, but a been there, done something like that, stand by you and face the crazy. With my friends, it's more of a, I love you so I'll stand with you in your storms and rejoicing.

I never feel that confidence that I should be a "mentor". I don't think that much of myself. I'm just like everyone else, making their way through this life. I'm just like you.

It's Almost Here

2011-10-28T14:26:00.000-06:00

I'm excited.
Not prepared, but excited just the same.
NaNoWriMo is just a few short days away. I'm really excited to do it again. It was a challenge and a good experience.
And now that's it's been a year, my family might even say so too! I've been getting ready by doing a number of different things.
One of those was doing the NaBloPoMo for the last few months. I'm going to try to continue it in November while doing the NaNo.
I tried to do some of the more practical things for getting my family ready. I have the laundry up to date. I have a menu plan for the month of November. We built into the budget for the nights I forget about food and we have to eat take out. I have my book idea and my characters sketched out.
I had wanted to have an outline and plenty of details prepared, but I don't.I had wanted to fill my freezer with meals to make the food part of the month easier.

Between Christian and Hedonist

2011-10-27T18:39:00.000-06:00

Got your attention didn't I?

I'm wondering about something lately, and I don't have an answer on this so I guess, it's just a thing to think about kind of post. That said, I'd really love to hear what you all think about this.

Christians have a lot of rules. We have Bible rules and then others that we just sort of heap on ourselves because it kind of seems like the right thing to do or because those other people, who are really "good" Christians live like that.

Hedonists just do what makes them happy, generally. I mean, there seems to be a certain amount of morality there in most hedonists, but um, yeah. It's just kind of whatever makes you feel good.

Maybe they aren't opposites. Maybe one has nothing to do with the other.

I'm wondering though about something we as Christians do to ourselves.

We tend to spend a whole lot of our lives denying ourselves things and experiences. We put it under the cloud of being a good Christian, but I wonder if we have part of this wrong.

Now, I'm not saying ignore the Bible rules or have zero morality, but I am wondering about some things we do.

Tonight for example, I was talking with a friend and she wanted to have a drink or two, but won't because it "wouldn't be the right thing to do." Now, honestly there is no real reason why she should deny herself a drink or even two.

We do it to ourselves on a lot of small fronts. Now, we all know ourselves and for some of us two drinks is two too many. Or that romance novel is too much. Or a night out playing cards with the boys is over the line.

But.

Taking that into account, that we know ourselves and our limitations, why do we still routinely, daily, continuously and consistently deny ourselves things and experiences?

Thoughts?

I Have High Expectations and No Apology For It

2011-10-26T13:02:00.001-06:00

So let's talk about school. And teachers. And parents. And kids.

Yup, I'm gonna go there.

I've done home school and public school with my kids and both have their wins about them and both have their costs. Let's leave that part to the side.

My boys have been in the school system for a few years now. We have had very few issues and nothing I would consider all that challenging or out of the ordinary. We've had a few of the standard bully episodes and a hand full of "where is your work?" episodes. We've had to have the talk a few times, you know, pay attention, quiet down, work harder, etc.

Over all, my boys cooperate pretty well, play the school game with a pretty good attitude and generally step up when either we or their teachers ask them too.

Enter Little Miss.

She has had 2 years in Head Start and a full year of 4K. She knows her basics and learns fast. She was for those two years the "quiet, shy, delight to have in class" little girl.

She is now apparently the Poltergeist child complete with head spinning around and maniacal laughter.

Something tells me I should have known on that very first morning of kindergarten when she mysteriously wasn't in line with her class walking into the building after I had just helped her get in line. Perhaps I should have had a clue when she answered my questions daily about school saying she was doing nothing and learning nothing.

And now we're going to talk about the grown ups.

I have a lot of respect for teachers, don't misunderstand one bit of this post to say that I don't. They have a difficult job, few resources and not a lot of support. I get that.

But, I'm trying to understand how we got to where I am already.

We are two months into the school year and I think I'm only mildly overstating when I say Little Miss has complete control over her classroom and her teacher.

My daughter is no easy," walk in the park" kind of kid. But her teacher is no "inks still wet on my diploma" kind of teacher. She might actually be close to retirement. She's definitely been around the block more than once.

This is what I heard in conferences last night.

"well....she is a distraction, she disrupts class often"

How often?

"well....I'm stopping class 4-5 times a day to have a conversation with her about her behavior"

That's far too often.

"hmm, yeah, it really is, isn't it?"

Hello? Yes!

How are you handling this?

"well....I keep telling her if she doesn't stop I'm going to make her sit alone, but, insert laughing here, I've only done it once...I guess I have to follow through on my threats"

Hello? You've had a class room for how many years and you're just now asking me if you should be following through on your discipline?

In all seriousness, yes, my daughter is hard kid. She will challenge everything but that doesn't mean she should "win".

This whole conference left me all jazzed up. I'm thinking about a whole lot of things now in the context of teachers and parents and schools and how it all works and doesn't work.

I'm curious why a teacher would let a behavior issue continue in the classroom like this for weeks on end and only sort of half look for a solution. I'm curious why, even though the teacher sees me daily, she wouldn't say a word about this until the very end of the conference.

Why are teachers afraid of parents? Why are the teachers afraid to insist on being the adult in the classroom? Why am I as the parent not expected to be responsible for my child?

I am one of those parents that does indeed respect that it is the teacher's classroom and I need to stay out of it and let him or her teach and run it the way they see fit. I do believe that what happens in school should be overall dealt with at school by the powers that be.

That said, I'm also one of those parents, who are in my kids business. I hate Web Grader more than words, but I use it to know what's going on with missing assignments and grades. I check back packs and assignment notebooks. I quiz the kids and look at the papers that come home. I ask about school.

I may not be the room mom or know every last one of my kids friends, but I have a good handle on who they are as they build their independence and grow.

As much as I feel compelled to stay out of the classroom and let the school handle what it needs too, there is also a point where I have to be involved and we have to work as a team to pull this thing off. So I expect that if you tell me everything is fine with my child in the classroom it really is. I expect that if my child is has a constant issue that you are not finding a successful way to deal with, you will involve me, or at the very least contact me and make me aware that the issue exists.

Not telling me about an issue with a child does not help the child. None of us can help the child succeed if we don't know what we're trying to overcome.

I'm also not a big believer in the double punishment thing. I go along generally with the, whatever happened at school will have it's own consequence at school and I don't need to "pile on" so to speak. Sometimes though, a school issue is also a home issue or a life issue and needs to be dealt with on multiple fronts. Sometimes there really is no consequence for the school issue.

So with my daughter, her main school issue is also one of her main issues at home. We have been addressing it, but not in a front and center sort of way. Now that we are aware of how it is bleeding over into the classroom and effecting the entire class, you can bet on our side the parenting just jumped up a dozen levels! But what if the teacher had never gotten around to mentioning it at the end of our conversation? What would this class look like at the end of the year with my daughter controlling it with the whims of her behaviors? In this case it seems as though there really were no consequences and the school really wasn't handling this issue.

The teacher and I have a plan, but again, I wonder because it seems like the teacher is afraid to be the adult, the authority. I made the plan and already at the end of the conversation the teacher way trying to make the plan "less". She sort of "pooh poohed" it to my daughter and immediately washed all sense of seriousness off the issue.

I don't want to be a jerk parent or a mean mama, but my girl needs to understand that she is to respect and obey her teacher. She needs to understand that there is a certain expectation in the classroom and in life for her behaviors. Refusing to cooperate will only end up hurting herself in the long run. I believe as the parent it is my job to make every effort to help her pull herself together and behave in a healthy, appropriate way. But, if the teacher and I make a plan, and she turns around and makes light of the plan, the consequences and the importance of the issues, the entire thing is undermined.

We are right back to the place of this teacher is going to struggle to control this class for the full year. I am going to struggle to convince my child to show the expected level of respect and obedience to a teacher who not not expect it of her. I am now in a position of having to begin being that parent who is sticking her nose into the classroom business and how the teacher handles her room.

Why are we in a place where there is no balance? This doesn't help our teachers teach, our parents parent or worst of all, our kids learn. And I am not keeping learning in the small box of simple academics. I am talking the broader scope. I expect part of the learning process at a school to involve some of the unwritten lessons of life that usually get tossed under the umbrella of being "socialized".

Ahem.

Back to the idea that sometimes there are no consequences. I have one child that likes to just randomly skip assignments or not hand them in. He unfortunately understands the "game" of school a little too well. For example, in one of his classes practice time is required. There is a log they are supposed to track their time on and a parent is to sign that it was done. Well, he's not doing it and I'm not signing it. I'm not going to lie and said he did it. He's not going to do it no matter what consequence I throw at this. The only consequence for this is not being able to get an A in the class, oh excuse me, a 4. We wouldn't want to traumatize our kids with letter grades like A, B or F. Cause you know, grading them with numbers so gets them ready for college where an F is an F with no do over or second chance unless you pay the money and the time and retake that course. But that's another blog.

This is another episode where I think, OK as the parent how do I back up these teachers and this school. It is in my child's best interest to do his stupid homework. Even when it's busy work, repetition teaches, whether we like to admit it or not. Yup, it's dull. Yup, it's an insult in a way, but honestly after my own school years and now my kids years, with some things like grammar, spelling, math, geography and so on, there is simply no better way to learn something than by repetition.

Spelling words? Write them 5 times each, every day from Monday to Thursday and you get 100 on your Friday spelling test. It's not fun. It's not flashy. It's not quick. But it works. For most kids, most of the time.

And yeah. I get special needs kids. I have them. I get it. And I also get the truth that you can't force a child to learn if they don't want to, but most kids want to feel good about themselves through whatever successes they can find, including classrooms.

So parents, how do we back the school and the teacher when there is no consequence? So my kid frequently skips an assignment. The teacher tells him to finish it and hand it in. We tell him to finish it and hand it in. In the end, there is no consequence. Especially once you get past the days of recess. So in middle school you don't do an assignment or two every month. So what. The majority of your grade comes from your tests.

Light years ago when I was in school, if you didn't turn in all your work for a class, it didn't matter if you were passing all the tests and had passing grades on all the other homework, if you had incomplete work you failed the class. Maybe if you had one of the "easy" teachers you could get an incomplete in the class until you turned in the work or did summer school. But there was no way you would pass a class without doing all the work. But in those days you didn't pass on to another grade if you were failing classes in that grade either.

What do I know, I'm just a product of the system myself.

So how do you give a consequence at home for something that at school, "doesn't really matter"? How do I teach a child that even though at school you are learning that if you don't like a couple of assignments or don't feel like doing them, it's OK to just skip them and everything will still all be magically OK but in "real life" that isn't OK?

Right? We don't want our mechanic to change the oil on the car and leave the oil pan open because he didn't feel like grabbing that cover and putting it back on. We don't want the dentist to drill out the cavity and skip the filling. We don't want to order a Big Mac and get it to find they didn't feel like doing the burger piece.

So why are we letting our kids do 90% of the work and say good enough?

When did we decide that good enough was all we could expect of our kids, of our teachers, our schools, ourselves?

This is every part of life,our kids lives, our American society, our own personal adult lives, and yeah, I'm plenty guilty of being a sheep in this flock, but I can see it, and maybe I'm not, but I feel like I'm fighting against it, swimming up stream and expecting more, expecting a lot more, from myself and everyone else, because I sort of have this crazy belief that if we have high expectations for people, they will generally rise up to them, or at least a whole lot higher than they thought possible and that's a win for us all.

Let's hear it. What do you think about schools and teachers and expectations?

Text Me

2011-10-25T18:49:00.000-06:00

I like to text with people. I like being able to slow down the pace of conversation and take a little more time to think through the responses I give. I like to communicate by written word. I think I am more clear in print than in person.

One of my boys also loves to text.

We use it in a unique way.

After I tuck him in at night, the texts begin.

Sometimes it's a simple good night mom, I love you.

Sometimes, it's the opening line of a story.

We text back and forth, taking turns, creating the story until one of us brings it to it's end.

Secretly I think it's incredibly cool.

The other way this boy and I use texting is to review and study for tests.

I take his study guides and I text him questions. He texts back the answers. It's good study because its both reading and writing and it's low pressure because we don't have to be right on top of each other and doing the quiz thing.

How do you text with your kids?

Between The Slices--You Read Sheets Didn't You??

2011-10-24T17:41:00.000-06:00

Today the prompt is about sandwiches or what you like to eat between bread.

I go back and forth on sandwiches so I thought I'd share some of my favorites. A sandwich is something I really have to be in the mood for. I'll also share some of the weirder ones.

I really don't love sandwiches so I'm struggling to call these favorites, but they are sandwiches I like.

Grilled cheese with bacon, tomato and avocado
Left over cold chicken with mayo and lots of salt
club sandwich
Monte cristo
peanut butter, jelly and banana slices
peanut butter and hard salami
peanut butter, cheddar cheese and green apple slices on raisin bread

These are the weird ones. I will not confess to eating these or not. :)

Miracle Whip and white sugar on white bread
white bread buttered with Cheetoes

And there you have it. A short list.

I wanna know, what are your favorite sandwiches? Any weird ones?

Doing The Unthinkable

2011-10-23T14:59:00.000-06:00

Well, we're doing it again. The unthinkable.

This time it's just a bunk bed.

It's an equally unprobable situation.

All in the land of foster care.

Last time we thought we were going to be quickly adopting a sibling pack. 3 kids. 2 girls and a boy.

We bought "the cloud", our big white van. It seats 12.

We modified our home. Adding egress windows to our lower level to make it safer and more pleasant.

It's foster care-land, so everything changes. It sometimes goes exactly as you are told and sometimes it goes exactly the opposite way.

We never got the girls. The boy "went home" and had a happy ending. Honestly, it was.

This time we're only putting up bunk beds.

There are already enough bumps in this case to make me wonder of Mr. Monkey will stay forever as we've been told or not.

It's far to early to tell.

Hey You Two, I'm Proud of You!!

2011-10-22T20:20:00.000-06:00

I think tonight I'll just tell you there are some people in my life that I'm really crazy proud of these days. They are a whole lot stronger than they think they are. They keep on stepping up and doing the hard things even after they've been knocked down by life. They keep on facing the fears that threaten to stop them in their tracks.

They're pretty amazing people.

There isn't much more I can tell you about either of them without revealing too much of their stories and possibly embarrassing them. Fear usually makes us embarrassed. I never want to bring attention to a fear or a short fall in a way that makes it seem light.

Not all challenges are about fears. So it's not that these two are people living in fear, but they live in a way that makes me proud of them both. All the time.

Grace or Bitterness?

2011-10-21T09:57:00.000-06:00

What we do here in our family is a little unusual.

Being a foster family is not "normal".

Why it's not is a whole other blog. Whether it should be normal is yet another blog.

My forever family learns some interesting and hard lessons along the way in this journey.

We have just "given up" another child. It was another happy ending of sorts. A real reunification happened. He went home to the actual parent that had "lost" him.

Our family, adults included, learn lessons along this journey. Sometimes we learn the same lessons over and over.

Sometimes doing the right thing means doing the hard thing.
Sometimes doing the right thing hurts, a lot.
Sometimes our idea of a happy ending isn't the same as someone elses idea.
Sometimes there is no happy ending.
Sometimes the ending is down right ugly and unfair.
Life is unfair.

That's the big one.

Life is unfair.

I even posted a link to a sermon about this a few days ago. I really hope you listened to it. It was an amazing truth about fairness presented clearly by a great teacher.

I like to think that in a way, I'm doing my kids a favor in life by letting them have these experiences and learn these lessons young in life. These are hard, often painful lessons for us as adults and my kids are getting to walk through them with me.

The real thin line to walk in all of this is how to grow them up learning these lessons, growing forward with a sense of grace towards humanity and not take these hard lessons and grow bitter.

I think it would be easy to learn these lessons as a child and grow into an adult filled with bitterness.

Right? Wouldn't it be easier to grow up thinking life is just unfair and sucks. That good things hardly ever happen to good people. That happy endings are fairy tales and not really real.

So, does this challenging life we live in our house, lead to bitter adults?

I hope not. I'm praying they learn grace and love and to be thankful for their very lives. I'm trying hard to teach those lessons more through the live I'm living out in front of them than in the words I try to get right with them. Remember that whole idea of life is caught not taught?

I'm hoping that the lessons are in the loving, the leaving, the hurting and the growing.

So what do you think? How do we teach kids experiencing hard life lessons very early on to grow up without a chip of bitterness on their shoulders?

Can grace be taught or only given? And is it enough?

Little Miss Speaks

2011-10-20T12:38:00.000-06:00

Because I'm between good ideas, I will instead share with you some of what Little Miss has to say about kindergarten so far.

When I ask her if she likes it, she just says yeah, and rolls her eyes. She loves the kids and most of her day, but at the same time, it is boring to her.

"Art is mean because they make you stay in your area even when something interesting is happening someplace else."

"Today was cool mom, we had cup cakes and throw up!" How I wish you could have seen the look of awe on her face as she told me about this one.

Her latest came after a field trip to the petting farm/pumpkin patch. "We picked a pumpkin, petted a kitten, milked a cow, fed a goat and saw a donkey POOP!!!!"

Oh the high lights of kindergarten.

Today, she had to wear a shirt with a pattern on it for their pattern study unit in class. She didn' have any shirts with stripe patterns on them, so we raided the box of boy clothes for one. Thank goodness for older brothers! She, however, was miffed. She had been protesting since the night before that her teacher couldn't tell her what to wear and now we added on that the shirt was her brothers.

She came stomping down the steps in it and declared, "this shirt smells like throw up!"

I can only imagine what else she will say this year!

What crazy things have your kids said to you so far this school year?

Chili With Pumpkin

2011-10-19T16:46:00.000-06:00

Honestly, today, I'm not very motivated.

To tell you a story. To do my dishes or run my vacuum. To get dressed and leave my house.

I'm not motivated to do much of anything today.

I think it's the weather.

It's one of those disgusting fall days in Wisconsin. It's cold and wet and windy. I was going to say blustery, but that's an understatement lost on anyone not here right now.

It's windy enough and gross enough outside, that football practice got called off.

That. Never. Happens.

We all come home tonight with no homework. Chili has been doing it's bubble and mingle all day in the crock pot. Dry wood is piled up by the fireplace. Blankets are on the sofa and kids have been in pj's since 4. Disney moves playing in the VCR.

The wind howls and whips past the windows. The neighbors pumpkin blows bye.

I'm not motivated.

I am, however, blessed and content.

How will you settle in these dark, cold fall afternoons?

Premature Announcements

2011-10-18T10:27:00.000-06:00

In the land of foster care it is pretty much always premature to accept any information as something that is actually going to happen, but because it's my life, I'm going to anyway. I also recognize that this is not the best way to make "announcements" and such, but on the other hand, most of you who are connected to us in our live life actually do stop by here now and again to read up on what we're up to, so in a way, it's a good way to reach you all.

November didn't contain enough for me, it seems. I was planning to spend some time kind of thinking through last November and all that held for me. Little One left us, Chicklet came in. I wrote a book and wrecked my van. It was a lot to process.

I was also planning to write again this November. I had a much more ambitious novel planned for this time. Last year was a bit of a lets just see if I can do it effort, this year, I've been thinking. Hee hee hee.

It seems that this November we are going to expand our family again.

"It's a boy!!"

We have been doing some "visits" with a little guy I'm going to nick name Mr. Monkey. He is a delight and needs a forever home.

We have agreed to be that home.

If everything lines up in the strange world of foster care, he will move in here in mid November and become a part of our forever family.

And yeah, another boy.

I know, I know. The next ones after him have to be girls or Little Miss is going to be one major tom boy!!

It is what it is. A God planned family.

I am excited and hopeful and preparing for challenge. Mr. Monkey is like all the others. He comes with "stuff" and we're all going to have to work hard at this thing called love and family.

I'm also adjusting my expectations for November. I think I'll be doing a whole lot less quiet reflecting and a whole lot more hands on busy. I am still planning to take my best shot at writing this novel too.

What are your November plans???

So What Did Happen?

2011-10-17T13:47:00.000-06:00

I haven't talked about it much, but I'm still doing the NaBloPoMo and writing daily.

Today's prompt is: What happened between middle school and high school?

Well, the short answer is a whole lot of nothing.

Literally.

At the end of 8th grade my family moved yet again. We moved to a small burb outside of Milwaukee. I came with expectations.

I moved to a little city from a big one. My middle school had been 7th through 9th grade. In the new town middle school was 6th through 8th.

It didn't matter much to me at the time.

I had been in a big-ish city. My middle school had lots of kids in it. It ran like a high school We had regular lockers with locks on them. We moved class rooms every hour and had a home room. We had a newspaper and a football team and a pool. We had study halls and more than one cafeteria and so on. I wasn't afraid of high school. I figured it would be just like middle school.

Only better.

I was guessing because it was a small town, it would be easier to make friends and fit in. I learned it's actually the opposite. The bigger the better. Small towns seem to have things all set from early on, like preschool and it's hard to break into that set up.

But what happened in between? What happened in that summer between 8th grade and high school freshman?

Well, nothing.

I unpacked my room. I swam in the pool in my back yard. I listened to the radio and read a zillion library books. I wrote letters to my "old" friends and whined about missing them and being lonely. I got a killer tan. I bleached my hair.

Besides my own family that summer, I didn't talk to many people. The occasional stranger but pretty much, it was just me, music and books and memories that summer.

It was long sunny summer days of solitude by the pool.

In a way, it was the summer without friends.

I didn't see or hear from my "old" friends. Back in prehistoric times, before cell phones or Internet, you didn't just call long distance without reason. I wrote but at that age none of us were really letter writers.

Somehow in the new town, I never really grasped how to make friends and fit in. I mean, by the end of high school I had a few friends, a couple of groups that would tolerate me tagging along to things, but I never clicked. I never was part of any of the groups at school.

In a way, it's great. At the time, I never really realized how left out I was, now looking back I can see it clearly. It's amazing the perspective Facebook can give you. I look back at high school classmates, the photos from those days and I see now what I never saw then. I saw how deep their relationships were and how out of the circle I was. I see the photos now, the memories of all the good times, that I didn't even know were happening.

I could sit back now and wallow and grieve that I was never part of the group, always left out of the parties and the fun, but why? The high school memories I do have are good. I could have made different choices back then and gotten to know people better and inserted myself into their already made groups better, but I didn't. And that's OK. It turned out fine.

I think it now. About my current life. I could do a much better job of being in different social groups and getting to know more people and building those memories and taking those pictures for the future, or I can be content.

I am content. There are very few times when I realize that "everyone" has been to "so and so's" house for treats and fun and I've never been. Or "everyone" has been to this place or that or made that special connection with this person or that one, but it's silly in a way.

I don't need popularity to feel OK about me. Yeah, sometimes the slights sting, but they are almost never intentional and it's almost always directly related to the person I am.

I care about people and love them deeply, but I'm not a social wonder. I have trouble being the listener, asking the good questions, offering the right invitations and hosting the right events. I have trouble mustering up the care that I don't do those things. That level of social responsibility doesn't come naturally to me.

I "forget" that when you start getting initiated into a new social group-like a mommy circle or whatever, that you are supposed to do a certain amount of I called you now it's your turn to call me. You planned the last get together so now it's my turn to plan one.

In a way, perhaps born totally out of laziness, my life just sort of happens to me--at least this kind of stuff that seems like small stuff to me---just sort of happens. People with grace call me and say, hey do you wanna xyz and I say sure and participate. If after the 2nd or 3rd time the calls to come do something stop coming, I just assume they are busy like I am and don't worry about it or give it another thought, sometime later,like months or years later it dawns on me that perhaps it was just my turn to be the caller or planner or whatever it was.

It's a funny thing about me. I was fine alone. I still am quite OK with days on end of being by myself with quiet and solitude. I'm fine in a group too. i like people. I enjoy them. I enjoy doing things with them. But reality is, either one is good for me. In fact, I think I need a balance of both.

"Don't Shout Me Down When I'm Preachin' Good"

2011-10-16T17:19:00.000-06:00

http://lifechurchwi.com/media/videocasts/Operation_3_600PM_800.mp4

Go watch it. It's worth it.

It underscores one of my life mantras in a way I never could have.

Life isn't fair. The sooner you accept it as truth, the easier your life is.

Kids and Lions

2011-10-15T20:11:00.000-06:00

It was quite the day, just as I expected.

The house full of kids was up before I was. All except Little T. He knew something was up. He fought sleep last night with all he had and was still asleep this morning when it was time to have him up and dressed and ready to go. I woke him and dressed him. The Mr. took him out for the final time. The rest of us gave our hugs and kisses at the door. It was a whirlwind as always.

It was as it was for all my kids that have gotten to go home. It hits this late hour of the night and I start to think through the day.

We kept it busy and full of kids and chaos. There was soccer and football and cold weather.

Anyway, the busy and loud keeps me from thinking about all the things you would maybe let yourself think on with the "giving away" or "giving back" of the kiddos when it's time for them to go.

But we get to now, most of the kids are asleep. The settling down is happening. Reflections come at this time of the evening. Missing comes at this time.

I think back over the morning, getting him ready, saying good bye and I can't remember. I keep thinking and trying to bring it back, but I can't remember if I said the words.

We have always said "I love you" easily over here and even more so since our months of living with Chicklet. One of her greatest gifts to me was given unknowingly. My kids often say to each other, "I like you" or "I love you" with a special lilt to it that never was there before.

I think back over the morning and I can't remember if I said to Little T one last time, I love you. Then I think back a year to Little One. Yup, it's almost a year, 11 months right now, and I can't remember for him either.

I'm sure I must have. I'm certain they knew they were loved.

But did I say it that one last time?

I'll never know for certain.

And that's a part of why I kept today packed full, and it didn't disappoint.

Crack of early soccer in the frigid fall. Quick lunch and off to football. How a field ends up an entire game behind in scheduling, I'll never know. Off to the hard ware store for light fixtures and back to football. Finally we head off to return Mr. Monkey to his current placement, only to have a very ugly parking lot mishap. We're hoping Mr. Monkey didn't break his nose, but seeing that it was somehow connected with us, the answer is probably.

Sigh.

Late dinner and now a little Lion King for bed time. Probably not the best pick for a reunification date.

"I'm only brave when I have to be."
Mufasa

Good Bye Little T

2011-10-14T10:25:00.000-06:00

Tonight will be my own special favorite kind of life distraction. A house full of kids.

I'll have my 3 forever kids tonight. I'll have my Little T for his last night with us. I'll have Quiet Man for his first night with us. I'll have my friends 3 kids so they can have an adult night.

Little T seems to know. Last night was unusual. He stayed up past all the other kids. He took turns snuggling up with The Mr. and I, finally falling asleep in The Mr.'s arms. He gave lots of hugs and kisses. Not his typical night. He never sits on my lap or gives me kisses, but I got a ton last night. It was his gift, his goodbye.

Kids are cool like that. They know stuff.

And so tonight, The Mr. and I will fill the house with the sounds of little people instead of putting them all to bed and listening to the quiet of "the last night". It's the best medicine. Keeping busy and keeping the house full, keeping your heart full.

Life has cliche's because they ring true.

"Don't cry because it ended, rejoice because it happened."

It was a blessing to love you Little T, and we will miss you and always remember you.

I Am A Person

2011-10-13T15:17:00.000-06:00

Dear Friends,

I love you.

I am a person and therefore, I make mistakes. A lot of them.

I have no filter on my mouth. My intentions may be good and genuine but my words are sharp.   My heart is big and my capacity for details small.

I miss birthdays and forget to send cards. I mean to send gifts and don't get around to it. I plan to do the socially right things, like thank you notes and reciprocal invites and make sure I even up the babysitting and other favors and we all know what they say about good intentions. That's me.

It's not that I don't care or don't love you.   I do.

I like to think, and probably I'm wrong, but I like to imagine myself the kind of friend or family that would stop on a dime if you were in real trouble. You know, crashed your car, house on fire, kid dying, etc. I like to believe that in those crisis times, I'd be there for you, practical and emotional. The reality is, I'm probably not that at all.

I fall into the train of thought that I'm doing something else or something good enough to make the difference ok. So in my mind, I didn't send a gift on your birthday, but on those days when it's not anything special, I took you out for lunch and laughter.

Sometimes I give you more credit than you think you should get. I don't call you daily or hourly in the midst of your emotional crisis because I believe in you. I believe that you can handle this thing, whatever it is.  I want good things for you and sometimes in life, often times in life, my holding your hand isn't the good thing. It might feel good, but it isn't the best thing for you.

And yeah, you're right, I'm not God and I really have no ground to stand on to say what's best for you in your life. All I can do is make my best guess when I offer advice and I only remotely think you'll take my advice, after all, you didn't ask for it and you have a brain. I do expect and believe that you'll use your brain.

Sometimes I think my doing something is enough of a recognition of whatever holiday it is that I'm missing. You know, I didn't send a card or write it on your face book wall before 3PM, so it means I didn't care. It doesn't. I probably thought giving you a night without the kids or whatever I did was better than a card.

I am sorry that I didn't speak your language. I'm sorry that I spoke to you my love in my language and not yours. I guess a "real" friend or a "true" friend would have paid better attention or been more tuned in or more aware of you and what you needed and met you in that place.

So my friends, this is my apology for being a sucky friend, for being that friend that seems like she's always the taker, that one that always is too harsh, always moving too fast, always thinking she knows it all. The one that always gives advice and never takes it. The one that talks too much and listens too little. The one that steps on toes and pushes back.

I'm sorry.

And in spite of myself, I value you. I value us. Your friendship is a big deal to me, even when I treat it like it isn't. When I screw it up and hurt you, it kills me.

So yeah, in my imperfect sucky way, I love you friend. Do with it what you will.

It's Almost November

2011-10-12T07:44:00.000-06:00

If you had asked me last November if I'd ever look forward to another one, I would have said no, not at all. I would have told you that November was going to be something I'd endure and work my way through, and yet here we are, just days away and I'm looking forward to it.

Not because the crap of my life is suddenly gone and I"m all that and figured out how to work through all my baggage and have a good handle on stuff. Nope. I'm just looking forward to the excuse.

What?

Much like last November, I'm going to write. I'll take my turn at the NaNoWriMo again. I'm sure I've got 50,000+ words of nonsense in me dying to make their way to a flash drive.

The good part of that is it gives me focus and purpose. It takes up my time and takes my brain off me and my life. It gives me reason to shut off the phone and the face book and the blog. It gives me justification to say I'm busy and can't be social. It buys me silence.

And as much as I love people and the people in my life, solitude is precious too. You know what they say, silence is golden.

A closed off November also gives me time to lick my wounds in private.

Last November I moved a kiddo out of my life that I thought would be mine forever, or at least as much as we ever get to have another person forever. I had him almost from the start of his life. I was there for all the firsts of the first years. I was his mama, hands down. I held on to dreams of his beautiful sisters.

On a beautiful amazing November afternoon, I gave him away. I bit my lip and drove away. Other than those few weeks in November I have not looked back. I've avoided the questions and conversations. I've lived with the reality that the one email that said, yeah, he's adjusted and ok is all I'm ever going to know.

I faced my own mortality with a stupid and dramatic car wreck. I let it change me and at the same time, I ignored it.

I finished the first "book" to prove something to myself.

Lots of things colored that November.

In August we shifted our "family" around yet again. People moved out and in. Like I say over and over, broken record style, it was bittersweet.

Little T has been the one to bring us back into official foster care after "My November". I have 2 days left with him.

On Saturday morning in the middle of the chaos of a large family on a busy morning, his ride will come. He will be excited about going home and going to mama. He will burst out the front door, run down the hill of my front yard, climb into the transport car and be gone forever.

Just like that.

Gone.

The first of November right around the corner.

Time to shut the door.

I Want Peace

2011-10-11T10:58:00.000-06:00

We humans are a funny breed. The brains we have set us apart from all the other living things in creation and yet it is our very brains that make us unhappy.

We live in a state of want. It doesn't matter how our lives are going or what faith we're claiming or our social status or our check book balance, we live in want. (Yes, I know the Biblical, we're fallen and so on, thank you very much. That point aside.)

We spend a lot of time trying to find happy. We spend a lot of energy on trying to fix or change life as it's happening to us. We spend enormous amounts of emotions on things we can't control or impact or will ever have all that much say in.

I'm not saying our feelings are bad or wrong or shouldn't be. I have them too. There are plenty of things that rock my world and knock me on my butt.

There is a way to live through it though and not have living life be the most horrible experience possible.

But I wonder why we fight it so hard? I wonder what about us---I know, the fallen thing, I get it---makes us so difficult. When we just accept life, it's easier.

Life is uncertain.
Life is unfair.
Life is hard.
People are mean.
People judge unfairly.
It's hard to guess what to do next.
We can't see or know the future.
We can barely predict the weather, we can't predict outcomes of life that involve live people.
Love isn't easy, but you can't live without it.
Love is the ultimate in compromise.
Love is complicated.
Friends are hard to make and harder to keep. They take work and grace and time--like years, not weeks.

To accept these "truths" and others about life brings a certain amount of peace.

Peace is a good place to live.

Even without all the answers.

Yeah, you can (and probably should) plan to a certain degree for the what if's of life. Yeah, it's good and right to think ahead to this could happen or that may happen, but not to fixate on the worst or the best.

I think we fight that list up above because we want life to turn out to be the fairy tale perfection we were dreaming of when we were 9 or 13 or what ever age, when we still believed that everyone at their core in some way played fair and life was some kind of even playing ground.

It's not. Bad junk happens to good people. All the time. Mean people exist all over the place. Mistakes happen. Hurts happen.

But what happens after? Do you keep going or do you just quit cause it wasn't fair and someone skipped you in line and took your turn? Do you crawl under your bed cause someone said your dress looked stupid and you had a bad hair cut? Do you give up on everyone else in your life cause your spouse died unfairly? Do you have a rage because it didn't go the way you believe with all your heart and soul to be the "right" way? The Bible way?

You can. But it hurts to live that way. It's exhausting. It's isolating. It's just plain hard to keep up that much energy into being ultimately angry. And who are you really angry at anyway?

Or you can have a peace to live in. I know, it's a strange sort of peace, but it's still better-at least to me-to live in that place. The one that accepts the bad junk that comes your way and just decides to keep moving, to keep looking for the good, the smile, the small ray of sunshine peaking through the thunderstorm.

It's all those old, worn cliches.

"Don't cry because it ended, smile because it was."

That's where I live. After 40 years of learning journey, that's where I decide to live daily, and yeah, I do have a lot of days where I have to make that choice minute by minute. I don't dismiss the hard and painful that is in my life, cause you better believe, I have plenty of it, I just want to see the smile instead of the tears. I want to see that moment of joy, even if it's only a moment, before the black closes back in again.

You decide to take your life however you want, but don't fault me for living mine my way.

I guess it's a simple agree to disagree.

To me, it looks like excuses, to you it looks like I'm stubborn and not understanding. And that's perfectly OK. You're going to say, but it's not that easy. I can't just decide to see my life differently and act differently and feel differently, I can't.

Well, maybe you can't.....

but maybe you can.

Where I Am and Where I Want To/Should Be

2011-10-10T13:22:00.000-06:00

I am standing between the point of ready, set, go and why bother.

There are a lot of places in my life right now where that is where my feet are planted.

Novel. I have an idea, I'm excited, go and yeah, don't have anything ready and organized ahead that I wanted to have done so why bother, by December I'll be way behind and frustrated in a whole pile of areas.

Friends. I love them, I listen(and give way too much advice), go and why bother. I can't help. I can't fix it. I seem to be more stumbling block and anchor than wings to fly.

Kids. They seem like they have it pulled together, they seem happy, go and oh wait, every one's in tears again and transitions suck and whoa, why do we do this again?

Foster Kids. We love him, we love him hard, go and 4 more days and he's gone forever. Let's find all "his" stuff around our house and toss it in a box or two for a Monday pick up. Let's focus on who might come next.

General Stuff. We're making healthy eating progress, we're keeping our chores up to date, go and we just ate out again and just had junk for dinner and the house is a pit again and forget it, we're going to watch TV.

What stuff in your life are you between?

Betweens

2011-10-09T20:17:00.000-06:00

Life is filled with transitions. We are always moving from one thing to another, or at least we should be. If our lives are stagnant and unchanging, I believe we should be very afraid, because when change comes, it will hit like a truck. If we live in cycles and refuse to see them or change them, we let ourselves live in a horrible place. We learn to thrive on garbage instead of life.

We should be ever learning, ever growing. We should be dreaming and planning and constantly evaluating where we are in our lives and where we think we want to end up.

We should recognize and give ourselves grace over the fact that life doesn't follow a straight path. Our dreams and goals change and grow as we do.

Often we get to what we thought we wanted and realize, it's not the thing at all.

What happens next is what counts.

Do we stop, paralyzed with all the what if's and what does it mean that I feel like my dream or goal changed? Do we wander in fear over what some person might think or how we believe they are going to judge us?

Or do we realize there is probably a reason why our dreams shifted, try to sort it out a bit and keep going forward, whatever the new direction of forward towards that dream is? Do we stop dead in our tracks over how someone else might judge us or do we realize the only one to truly judge us is HIM and the judgement for doing nothing when HE has asked something of us is way harsher than any mortal slap in the face from some judgemental busy body, or even a loved one who means well.

Life is a between.

Every choice could be a right or wrong one. There is no absolute certain way to know that if you do x then for certain y will be the outcome and if we choose z we will certainly feel h. That's where that whole crazy trust God thing comes in to play.

But you know what, I'm real good and handing it all out and I know I'm real bad at taking my own "advice". It's in quotes cause we all know what kind of advice I hand out. And I know I'm real bad at taking my own advice because I get told it all the time.

But it's a blog folks, a magical, fantastical cross over of life, skewed reality, truth and fiction.

Good night Sunday, it's almost Monday.

Between Friends

2011-10-08T19:35:00.000-06:00

A lot happens between friends. Good stuff. Hard stuff. Stuff you never forget and stuff you never live down.

I have a little group of "besties" that I like to call the Peeps. And yeah, there are inside jokes to all that stuff, but again, it's part of what happens between friends.

Between us, we cover 3 different generations, with one in her 20's, one in her 30's and me, a little older than all that. Yeah, that means I'm in my 40's. Get over it. I have. It's a strange and unusual thing for the three of us to be so super close and yet, it's utterly perfect.

I met Miss Gigi way back when both of us were working with high school ministry. We went on some training retreat and I was one of the drivers. Miss Gigi ended up in my van and rode a long way listening to me "bash" young 30-somethings. Yeah, genius I am not. But somehow, she survived the ride and we even ended up rooming together for the weekend. Somewhere along the way, we bonded, like for life.

Our journeys have overlapped in a way that we could never have planned or understood. We have days like today where we endure a long day of horrible training simply by dishing up the laughter. Then spur of the moment, dropping me off, she grabs my kids and keeps them for the overnight. She gifts me with a wonderful date night and in turn the ideas for my next book.

As if that wasn't enough, she gifted me with something else. Little Miss is a great amazing kid. But she's a hard kid too. She comes from the hard place in life and she acts like it too sometimes. Miss Gigi sent me messages tonight that helped me see her through her eyes. That's a gift.

"I love Little Miss! She cracks me up! Just by being herself and I love it! She is fun and sassy. When she is with my daughter I don't think she is different then how we are when we're together. She loves her and teases her and is completely loyal."

There is no follow up comment to that.

The youngest Peep, Chicklet, is someone I met in an equally unusual way. She took care of my kids in the child care at church, but quite honestly, she scared the snot out of me. She was dark and sort of pulled back, shy maybe and, get scared here, pierced and tattooed. Yeah, I know. Get over it. I did.

Here's the thing, I'm standing there one day talking to her about I don't even know what, and I hear myself asking her out to lunch. We went to Panera. I think I was late because I got lost. I'm always lost. It was awkward and weird and then I'm pretty sure I asked her to do it again.

Somehow, Chicklet and I, 20 years difference between us, have become tight. It's a thing I don't understand, our friendship, but it's something I would never change or give up either.

I was in a place in my life between close friends and none. These two amazing women came in somewhere in that time and became more than I could have imagined.

Between you and me, they're the best friends a woman could ever hope for.

10 Things You Need To Be A Foster Parent

2011-10-07T13:42:00.000-06:00

1. Humility
2. Faith
3. Teachable
4. Patience
5. Family & Friends
6. Organization & Discipline
7. Spontaneity
8. Love
9. Thick Skin
10. Humor
* Balance

So that's the quick and dirty list, now I'll break it down for you a little bit.

Humility. I believe you cannot be a foster parent without humility. Any kid will humble their parent at one time or another, but a foster kid, will do it like no other. They will put you in your place more than once in the course of their case. And so will their birth parents. And your case workers. And the therapists. And the DA, the GAL and the Judge. We spend a lot of time realizing we're on our side of the case simply by the grace of God.

Faith. Honestly, without faith, I have no idea how you even attempt to do this. When it all comes unglued and everything goes exactly the way you think it shouldn't, you have to have faith to lean on that someone bigger and better than you has this whole crazy thing in hand better than you ever could. you suddenly realize how little you are on this earth and in this life and how big HE is.

Teachable. One, because it's required. A foster license is just like a teaching license. You need a certain amount of continuing education hours each year to keep it. Second, because if you don't learn from life lived with these kids, they will run you over and it will be a fail for both of you. Yes, it's unstructured and unwritten learning on the fly as life with these special kids unravels, but it's the best lessons of life. You learn in brilliant colors what really matters in this life better than any book or verse will ever teach you.

Patience. Almost nothing in the system goes according to the plan and everything takes weeks and months and years longer than it should. People get more chances to try again than seems worth while. This is a system that puts the phrase, "hurry up and wait" in a whole new light. Then on top of all that, you need extra patience, because you have to keep yourself in check because of the little people you're now loving with all your heart and soul.

Family & Friends. No, they'll never "get it" but if they are the kind that support you, it counts. Even another family or friend that does foster parenting will not share your exact experience, each case is way to unique for that, but the support and love of someone that knows your heart for these little people is worth more than they know.

Organization & Discipline. Yeah, I know, me saying that...but it's true. You have to stay organized enough to keep track of all the paperwork in foster care, and there is a ton. You have to keep organized to deal with all the moving parts of the case, workers,therapists, schools, judges, birth parents, and so on. Discipline? Well, it's the discipline to keep things moving forward, even when you want to chuck it all. It's the discipline to stand up and be the adult when no one else is willing to. It's the discipline to stay committed to a case and follow it through to what ever end it comes to and then the discipline to be mature about it, no matter how it feels, to see the bigger picture, the hand of God in it all, while still feeling what you feel about it. It's being able to hold both at the same time.

Spontaneity. In the midst of all the above organization, keeping track of all the zillion commitments for each case and child, you still have to be able to seize the moments and capture them for all they're worth. You have to know when to set aside the "rules" and head outside for fresh air or ditch dinner for ice cream sundaes. You have to catch the heart of the child and know when the moment calls for stern adherence to the rules and when it calls for the come sit on my lap for a minute moments. You have to know what days to say to the teacher, we simply couldn't do/be that today and when to seal those joy moments in their little hearts for life.

Love. A foster parent needs to love. Whole heart, all in, with total abandon, every time. You have to love the child, literally as if they were your own.

Thick Skin. You will be that family. Everyone will look. Everyone will talk. Everyone will comment and judge. Everyone will give you advice. Your family will be the one with those kids, the ones that make a huge spectacle of themselves, or pitch a tantrum unparallelled by others or break stuff or cuss in church or whatever is your personal nightmare. It will happen. And then it will happen again.

Humor. Without it, you will fail. If you can't laugh in those thick skin moments, you've lost ground with the kids. If you can't laugh at yourself or a situation, you can't teach a kid to overcome an obstacle. If you can't find laughter and humor in foster parenting, it will drain the life out of all of you. A home with no joy and no laughter isn't a home at all.

*Balance. Balance is the star bullet point. It's the star because all of these things need to balance with the others. They need to balance with the practical, the common sense, the physical of everyday life. The balance has to be there for the present on this earth and the eternal. When the balance tips, we all get in trouble.

Shelley for the idea today.

PS, follow the link and go read Shelley, she's pretty darn amazing herself.

A Healing House

2011-10-06T11:59:00.000-06:00

There is a place between broken and whole, hurt and healed.
My home is the in between.
My home is the healing space.
For years now we have taken in the broken and waited and loved. Some go home, some stay.
I have just taken the call, Little T is on his way home.
We don't work miracles here, that's God's gig.
We do the simple. We love and wait along side for the healing to come. Often that healing wears the mark of an ugly scar, inside or out, but that's ok.
We do the practical. We wash, we feed. We take them to the care they need, whatever kind of doctor that may be or even a team of them is that's what they need.
We pray.
We love.
We let go.

Life In the In Between

2011-10-05T12:01:00.000-06:00

Right now I'm living in the In Between.

I'm in the place between who I know my God to be and what I know the world to be.

We all know the song, and I am feeling like I am that tree bent over in the hurricane.

I know the promises He made. I know the love and mercy and grace. I know the healing and comfort to be found.

I am walking with far too many friends bending in the weight of the pain and fear of this world.

It's a hard place to stand, my friends, no one would deny it.

But please don't just stand, the victory comes when we keep going, one step after another, forward into something we can't see.

It's a hard place to stand next to you, as a wordy girl, suddenly and completely without any right words to say.

Each of you standing in your own personal hurricane knows who you are and what you mean to me. Know in the days ahead, I am loving you and praying for you and your world, even if you can't see how that could be.

Between Ideas

2011-10-04T16:31:00.000-06:00

I'm between blog ideas, so today you get what I'm making for dinner. This is as close to a solid recipe as I make so, just try. Thanks to my friend, Lori, I had some great ideas to make this a whole lot healthier.

Cheesy Broccoli Soup With Ham

I chopped up a Vidalia onion and cooked it down in some olive oil. I added just a tiny bit of butter to get that butter flavor, but I'm thinking you could really leave it out and be OK. Next I added flax seed meal and almond flour to make the roux. Next add in a carton of organic chicken broth and half a box of unsweetened, unflavored almond milk. Salt, pepper and garlic powder to taste. I add lots of pepper. I let it simmer for a while. Then I added some left over ham--the not so healthy part--I cut it up small like bacon crumble size. I also put in one bag of chopped broccoli. I let it thaw out before I threw it in the soup. As it simmers I mush it up. I don't love big huge chunks of broccoli in my soup. I added about 2 1/2 cups of low fat sharp cheddar.

There you go. That simple. Soup for dinner.

Clean Enough

2011-10-03T14:39:00.000-06:00

Clean enough is the place between clean that brings you joy and dirty that makes to sullen.

I'm content in the clean enough. I really am, and in a way that seems like a very bad thing. I like things picked up. I like the floors swept and carpets vacuumed. I like the laundry mostly done and put away(who can ever get it all done?) I like my kitchen sink empty, although it rarely is except for a couple hours a day.

I can live with a pretty healthy amount of clutter around. Paper on flat surfaces. Things not quite put away. That one last game piece. A pencil not quite in the pencil can. The newspaper left on the table. The chair left pulled out.

Here's the rub though, when something happens or is going to happen and I really get cleaning down deep for real, I love the result. I even love the effort.

What?

So today I got on with the job of cleaning my fridge. It's a job I don't love, who does? Those smelly leftovers that everyone said they were going to eat last week and so on. I do clean out the "junk" pretty often so it's not horrible and totally gross, but it does every once in a while reach that point, you know the one, where you think I just have to do it. I have to buck up and do the dirty job.

It doesn't take long for me to have the shelves out and suds everywhere and the inside getting scrubbed down.

I end up loving even the cleaning. There is something so utterly satisfying in taking something dirty and washing it clean. I'll spend the rest of today and probably even part of tomorrow opening up the door just to look inside at my clean shelves and drawers.

When I was done, I asked my friend, how come I slide into that in between of clean enough? Why can't I stay on the "high" that comes after a deep clean and keep it that clean all the time? Why do I let myself slide into the "easy" clean enough-you know the one that grabs and tosses that single yucky thing and gives the shelf a quick Clorox wipe wipe-down instead of yank the shelves out and scrub it down?

Where are you on the clean it up scale? Are you a "super cleaner" always going in for the deep clean? Are you a slider like me, do the deep clean and slip slowly into clean enough? Or are you a "dirty girl" and you just don't care if your fridge is coated in that "black stuff" or your bathroom is kind of "fuzzy"?

Spill the "dirt" in the comments, will ya?

2011-10-02T19:08:00.000-06:00

I'm looking and thinking about blog topics to stay with the Between theme and my son says:

What's the difference between a double bubble blowing baby and double bubble gum?

Then he said, "How many elephants can you fit between a car and the ocean?

Yup. That's what life is like around here. Lots of random thoughts.

We've been busy today. Lots of sports and activities. Lots of study time and hair do's. We spent a part of our day at another home. It's our home too, though. Our families run together. There is so much that goes back and forth between us. Kids, movies and meals. Coffee, compassion and sports. Faith and fun and football.

And I am thankful to share the between with them.

In Betweens

2011-10-01T16:20:00.000-06:00

Some of the In Betweens in my life right now.

The insane weather. I like it here in Wisconsin, believe it or not. I don't love to shovel, but there is an odd peace even in that. I do like that it changes with the seasons and even daily. What I don't enjoy is this sort of menopausal weather we have right now. It swings in the course of a day from very cool 30's to mid 60's, even higher sometimes, then back into the low numbers. Add in a split personality version of pouring rain combined with bright sunlight and you have the weather right now. It's not my favorite simply because it's so In Between.

The Little Mr. He's 13. What else is there to say. He lives in the In Between right now. He's a kid. He's a teen. He's too cool for that. He still wants to play with this. Soon enough we'll be on the other side of this In Between but then we'll be beginning it with the next child in line.

Little T is In Between. He's part time with us and part time at home. It's very much like a split custody from a divorce. He's a really sweet little guy and we all love having him around.

We as a family are In Between with kids. It seems like another little person may start joining us soon. It'll be very much like Little T but the opposite. He'll be with us on the weekends for a while.

I am In Between pants sizes. A nice thing as it's going a size down, but a drag to always be hiking them up.

Our school weeks are busy and our weekends In Between are often just as busy. Sometimes even more so.

Our dog seems as though she may be getting closer to being In Between this life and the next.

I am In Between the planning of the next novel and the starting of the actual writing. My ideas are fermenting. Yeah, I know, it should probably be something nicer like incubating or germinating or percolating, but with me, it's a lot more like spawning or mutating. Ah well, fun is fun!

What are you In Between these days?

A Last Return

2011-09-30T09:34:00.000-06:00

In reality, I got nothing for you today. I really don't. Sometimes it's like that in writer land. I got nothing to say.

The sun has finally come back.

Find your inner rebel. Find your favorite tunes. Turn 'em up.

Say good bye to September and summer.

Put one foot in front of the other, in your hottest shoes, and walk,

walk like you own the world,

like you own your life

and you want to live it.

My Hair

2011-09-29T16:19:00.000-06:00

Yeah, I'm actually going to write about my hair. It's a nice fluffy non-issue to blog about on a seriously blustery day and there are only two more days left in the September NaBloPoMo challenge. Frankly, I'm tired of the theme, but it's because I have a seriously short attention span.

So anyway, about the hair.

I have a flip attitude about hair and apparently some form of hair ADD. I'm blessed with hair that is healthy and grows like crazy, therefore, I am very flip about hair and hair styles and generally all things hair. I am able to just say go for it, because after all, it's hair. It's not a big deal in life and it grows back, so who cares! Live a little and have some fun. Add to the flip attitude the fact that I get bored easily and you have the making of hair ADD. I just enjoy changing it up. It's fun to reinvent your look.

People are funny about it though. They say things that make you wonder about their honest opinions and it makes me laugh on the inside. A lot.

I'll admit. I made a drastic change today. I went from summer's light,light blond to a deep dark reddish black. I'd call it Goth, but I hear that's not a thing anymore, plus it would reveal my inner '80's girl. Hee hee. It's dark. It's edgy. I love it. My kids love it.

Take a look and judge for yourself. Maybe you'll react like one of my friends. She said, "Wow, so, are you happy with how it came out?" with a nice air of disbelief. It made me laugh. I like her a lot and she meant nothing mean by it, but her shock was showing!

Before--the "summer" look.

After--the "dark, edgy" look.

See you in the comments!

Don't Want To Miss A Day

2011-09-28T11:08:00.000-06:00

But...
I don't want to miss a day being so very close to the end of the daily blog challenge and yet, real life comes first.

There is something happening right now that requires and demands my real life attention.

If you're a praying person, go there now.