Valentine's Day Part 3 (Hopefully the Last One)
As Valentine's Day approached, I just did not feel very creative. I have been distracted by a lot of things. I mentioned I try to remind my kids how much they are loved so they aren't hurt on this day. But as they get older, it gets harder and harder to do something special (without spending LOTS of money.) Almost gone are the days of love notes, stuffed animals, and candy. I don't think they will ever outgrow the love notes. The hard part is trying not to say the same thing every year. Also, I've always thought it important to NOT say the same thing to each child or it minimizes the meaning and thought. So how do you say "I love you, you're important/special to me, I appreciate you, 5 different ways, year-after-year, without repeating yourself???
While out shopping, I noticed these cute little stuffed animals. My 16 year old has always had a fondness of dogs. (Her room is still decorated in the 101 Dalmation theme.) These were small little dogs so I picked up 2. One for her and one for her younger sister. I figured the oldest 3 would definately not appreciate a stuffed animal, at least not from me. Of course I got Ethan one too.
As I packed Sarabeth and Hilary's lunches Valentine's morning, along with a note and candy, I stuffed these dogs in their lunch pails.
When it came time to pick them up from the bus stop, I grabbed some chocolate Valentine candy. Chocolate makes you feel good, right? I saw Sarabeth get off the bus carrying a rose and her stuffed dog. She was smiling. Hilary approached the car looking not so happy. Of the two girls who ride with us, one carried a rose too. Once inside the car, I passed out the bags of candy declaring, "we all need chocolate on Valentine's Day." Three of the kids excitedly thanked me, opened the candy and began eating. The fourth, Hilary, didn't respond. As I was pulling the car away from the school she finally blurted out, "is this all I get for Valentine's Day?" She then tossed the candy to the floor with "are you trying to make me fat?"
My first thought was to immediately address this ungrateful, snotty attitude. I am still learning as a parent, but one of my goals is to respond appropriately in a situation-not react emotionally. I am sure the other kids in the car were aghast at Hilary's rudeness, along with no reaction from me. I knew her day had obviously not gone well. It is no excuse to take it out on others, but at that point correcting the behavior of someone who is hurt and lashing out is wasting my effort.
Later we were finally able to talk. She had sent a singing telegram to a fellow student with her own money. Most of her friends had received flowers or telegrams. She hadn't received anything. (Last year I'd had each of the girls "secretly" send something to the other. I had decided not to repeat that. Should have done it anyway.) And to make matters worse, when she opened her lunch box, she said all of the kids laughed and made fun of her. She said the dog was ugly and it humiliated her. Ouch! (I am now nominated for the "Bad Mother Of The Year Award.") But, Grrrr...junior high kids make me mad. Why do they laugh and make fun of one another. And why does my child worry so much about what other people think? Could she not have ignored them and instead gushed that it was sweet and pretended like she enjoyed this? No, I guess that would be asking too much.
Sigh. Next year I am cancelling Valentine's Day at my house.
Monday, February 20, 2006
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Valentine's Day Part 2
Sorry I didn't return yesterday. Ethan's dental work took much longer than anticipated. He did not come out of the anesthesia well. (Or else he was in a lot of pain-he was unconsolable.) I have more to say about dentists and the likes but will save that for another post.
Another quick Valentine's Story.
When my oldest, Christina, went to junior high life certainly changed. This is the year that there are no more classroom parties, no mandatory giving of Valentine's Day cards to every student. Instead, the parties are replaced with the option of "buying your sweetie" something. Two weeks prior to the Lovefest Day, students have the option of purchasing items such as candy, flowers, singing telegrams, etc. from their student council. These items are then delivered only to those students who are very loved by fellow students.
As a side note. The Christian school some my kids attended had a different policy. It started in elementary school. The option that made it better was that parents could purchase a teddy bear, candy, flowers, etc. and have them delivered to their child. This option gave the greatest possibility that every child could feel loved and special.
But this was not an option for Christina that fateful Valentine's Day. When she arrived home her head hung down, her backpack looked like it must have weighed a ton the way she dragged herself in the door. This was my first clue she did not feel loved at school. Her little sister, Elisabeth, was happily singing at the kitchen table. She was carefully opening each of her Valentine's. She would read it in a sing-song voice and talk lovingly about each sender. Sitting beside the notes was a growing pile of candy.
"Look at this one!" She cried out. "Jonathon said he thinks I'm cute and he gave me TWO pieces of candy."
She turned towards Christina as she entered the room. "Look at all of my Valentine's! I got 25 and 2 from my teachers! How many Valentine's did you get????"
Christina stopped to get a drink of water without even looking. But Elisabeth was persistent.
"Well, how many Valentine's did you get? Look at all of my candy, did you get lots of candy?"
"No. I didn't get anything."
"Oh, I guess you don't have any friends." Elisabeth turned and went back to her singsong Valentine's, completely oblivious to what had just transpired.
We actually laugh about this now. Christina is 24. But I think Elisabeth is still mortified that at age 7, she just blurted out whatever she was thinking without a thought.
Sorry I didn't return yesterday. Ethan's dental work took much longer than anticipated. He did not come out of the anesthesia well. (Or else he was in a lot of pain-he was unconsolable.) I have more to say about dentists and the likes but will save that for another post.
Another quick Valentine's Story.
When my oldest, Christina, went to junior high life certainly changed. This is the year that there are no more classroom parties, no mandatory giving of Valentine's Day cards to every student. Instead, the parties are replaced with the option of "buying your sweetie" something. Two weeks prior to the Lovefest Day, students have the option of purchasing items such as candy, flowers, singing telegrams, etc. from their student council. These items are then delivered only to those students who are very loved by fellow students.
As a side note. The Christian school some my kids attended had a different policy. It started in elementary school. The option that made it better was that parents could purchase a teddy bear, candy, flowers, etc. and have them delivered to their child. This option gave the greatest possibility that every child could feel loved and special.
But this was not an option for Christina that fateful Valentine's Day. When she arrived home her head hung down, her backpack looked like it must have weighed a ton the way she dragged herself in the door. This was my first clue she did not feel loved at school. Her little sister, Elisabeth, was happily singing at the kitchen table. She was carefully opening each of her Valentine's. She would read it in a sing-song voice and talk lovingly about each sender. Sitting beside the notes was a growing pile of candy.
"Look at this one!" She cried out. "Jonathon said he thinks I'm cute and he gave me TWO pieces of candy."
She turned towards Christina as she entered the room. "Look at all of my Valentine's! I got 25 and 2 from my teachers! How many Valentine's did you get????"
Christina stopped to get a drink of water without even looking. But Elisabeth was persistent.
"Well, how many Valentine's did you get? Look at all of my candy, did you get lots of candy?"
"No. I didn't get anything."
"Oh, I guess you don't have any friends." Elisabeth turned and went back to her singsong Valentine's, completely oblivious to what had just transpired.
We actually laugh about this now. Christina is 24. But I think Elisabeth is still mortified that at age 7, she just blurted out whatever she was thinking without a thought.
These questions were on WonderWoman's blog, and I just had to answer them for her.
1. Can you use chopsticks?
No
2. How many times have you ever been stung by a bee-type creature?
Just once. That was enough. Got stung on my toe and the swelling went up my ankle.
3. Do you know what SNAFU stands for?
You mean, other than a ridiculous, blundering chaos? Like: Something Not Actually Funny/Unusual?
4. Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?
Hmm...Sponge Bob?
5. Free groceries for a year, or free gas?
Groceries for sure.
6. Where is the worst place to have a zit?
When you sit down and you are sitting on it.
7. Can you wiggle your ears without wiggling any other part of your face?
Of course I can.
8. If you had $5000 that you HAD to spend on plastic surgery, what would you have done?
Tummy Tuck.
9. How much guilt would you suffer over spending $5000 on plastic surgery?
Plenty.
10. Which is worse: a low droning noise that goes on and on or a piercing shriek that happens once?
Piercing shriek
11. What is a suitable punishment for someone who is the source of a low droning noise that goes on and on?
To have to continue to make that noise 24/7, until they are so tired of doing it they never want to do it again.
12. What is your response to a piercing shriek?
Send offender outside to shriek to their hearts delight, until they are hoarse and can no longer shriek.
13. What is generally your first clue that someone is a moron?
Hmmm...when they feel the need to comment on anything that is none of their business.
14. Is one loaf of bread enough to feed 11 hungry children?
Definately not.
15. Can I borrow a loaf of bread?
Anytime.
16. What is one holiday that you would like to see invented, and how much time off from work should we receive for this holiday?
Mother's Week. Every mom would get a week away to do as she wanted-no questions asked and come home to a clean home and happy family.
17. If you could give every person in the world a present, what would it be?
God's Love
18. What is the most charitable act you have done recently?
Does letting the dog out front count? He LOVES to not be penned up, (and if he ran away and never came back, dh would be oh so happy.)
19. Did you have to think far too long for a response to #18?
Nah, just thought about the last thing I did.
20. Which is cuter, a 4 week old puppy or a 5 month old human?
Uh, after the above response, you need to ask???? A 5 month old human for sure. (And when I'm finally free of pets, and if my home is not full of grandkids do NOT under any circumstances bring a cute little 4 week old puppy to my house. I might forget momentarily what it is like being a dog owner.)
1. Can you use chopsticks?
No
2. How many times have you ever been stung by a bee-type creature?
Just once. That was enough. Got stung on my toe and the swelling went up my ankle.
3. Do you know what SNAFU stands for?
You mean, other than a ridiculous, blundering chaos? Like: Something Not Actually Funny/Unusual?
4. Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?
Hmm...Sponge Bob?
5. Free groceries for a year, or free gas?
Groceries for sure.
6. Where is the worst place to have a zit?
When you sit down and you are sitting on it.
7. Can you wiggle your ears without wiggling any other part of your face?
Of course I can.
8. If you had $5000 that you HAD to spend on plastic surgery, what would you have done?
Tummy Tuck.
9. How much guilt would you suffer over spending $5000 on plastic surgery?
Plenty.
10. Which is worse: a low droning noise that goes on and on or a piercing shriek that happens once?
Piercing shriek
11. What is a suitable punishment for someone who is the source of a low droning noise that goes on and on?
To have to continue to make that noise 24/7, until they are so tired of doing it they never want to do it again.
12. What is your response to a piercing shriek?
Send offender outside to shriek to their hearts delight, until they are hoarse and can no longer shriek.
13. What is generally your first clue that someone is a moron?
Hmmm...when they feel the need to comment on anything that is none of their business.
14. Is one loaf of bread enough to feed 11 hungry children?
Definately not.
15. Can I borrow a loaf of bread?
Anytime.
16. What is one holiday that you would like to see invented, and how much time off from work should we receive for this holiday?
Mother's Week. Every mom would get a week away to do as she wanted-no questions asked and come home to a clean home and happy family.
17. If you could give every person in the world a present, what would it be?
God's Love
18. What is the most charitable act you have done recently?
Does letting the dog out front count? He LOVES to not be penned up, (and if he ran away and never came back, dh would be oh so happy.)
19. Did you have to think far too long for a response to #18?
Nah, just thought about the last thing I did.
20. Which is cuter, a 4 week old puppy or a 5 month old human?
Uh, after the above response, you need to ask???? A 5 month old human for sure. (And when I'm finally free of pets, and if my home is not full of grandkids do NOT under any circumstances bring a cute little 4 week old puppy to my house. I might forget momentarily what it is like being a dog owner.)
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Valentine's Part One
For a week I've wrestled with what to write for "Valentine's Day." Do I honor my dear sweetie in all his glorious romance? There are so many thoughts and emotions associated with this celebration. I've cursed it, romantically dreamt about it, planned for it, and anticipated with great excitement all this day might hold. I have much to say about this whole affair, far too much for one day's post.
A heads up for the men: Don't invite your sweetheart to lunch at the mall on Valentine's Day. It doesn't matter that you had your heart set on a gyro sandwich that you can't get anywhere else. If you do this, on the way home your sweetie will not be thanking you for the thoughtfulness in taking her to lunch. She will be distracted. She will be confused. When you mentioned the mall, she thought somehow all of her subtle and not-so-subtle hints about those cute earings penetrated your thoughts. She will imagine that you have decided to be totally out of character extravagant. (Yes, she did say that "she" would never spend that much on a pair of earrings, but has no problem with "you" spending that much.) When you exit right after eating something will be amiss. You will no longer look like the loving husband taking his darling out for lunch. You are now that guy who still believes his wife when she says things she really doesn't mean. (If you are really confused, you need to read this post by WonderWoman entitled "I heart you."
That's what I mean about Valentine's Day. Too often it can set a heart up for hurt and disappointment.
The school is a place that notoriously sets up the beginnings of Valentine heartbreaks. In Elementary school notes are sent home that if a child brings Valentine cards they must bring one for each student. But does anyone really check? Did you ever get a "Teacher" card from another student and realize he or she didn't actually hand-pick a valentine for you? Or did you receive a Valentine with someone else's name on it? Have another child walk by sneering, "I didn't get one for you," or worse, "I gave candy to everyone but you."
I have tried to be sensitive to my children on this day. I've spent time, money, emotion, prayers, and tears in trying to do something to make them feel lavishly loved. If they go to school after feeling extravagantly loved, any ill-shot cupid arrows won't penetrate their little puffed up hearts. Sadly, I haven't always been successful.
(Continued tomorrow, after Ethan's dental work which he will have to be put under general anesthesia.)
For a week I've wrestled with what to write for "Valentine's Day." Do I honor my dear sweetie in all his glorious romance? There are so many thoughts and emotions associated with this celebration. I've cursed it, romantically dreamt about it, planned for it, and anticipated with great excitement all this day might hold. I have much to say about this whole affair, far too much for one day's post.
A heads up for the men: Don't invite your sweetheart to lunch at the mall on Valentine's Day. It doesn't matter that you had your heart set on a gyro sandwich that you can't get anywhere else. If you do this, on the way home your sweetie will not be thanking you for the thoughtfulness in taking her to lunch. She will be distracted. She will be confused. When you mentioned the mall, she thought somehow all of her subtle and not-so-subtle hints about those cute earings penetrated your thoughts. She will imagine that you have decided to be totally out of character extravagant. (Yes, she did say that "she" would never spend that much on a pair of earrings, but has no problem with "you" spending that much.) When you exit right after eating something will be amiss. You will no longer look like the loving husband taking his darling out for lunch. You are now that guy who still believes his wife when she says things she really doesn't mean. (If you are really confused, you need to read this post by WonderWoman entitled "I heart you."
That's what I mean about Valentine's Day. Too often it can set a heart up for hurt and disappointment.
The school is a place that notoriously sets up the beginnings of Valentine heartbreaks. In Elementary school notes are sent home that if a child brings Valentine cards they must bring one for each student. But does anyone really check? Did you ever get a "Teacher" card from another student and realize he or she didn't actually hand-pick a valentine for you? Or did you receive a Valentine with someone else's name on it? Have another child walk by sneering, "I didn't get one for you," or worse, "I gave candy to everyone but you."
I have tried to be sensitive to my children on this day. I've spent time, money, emotion, prayers, and tears in trying to do something to make them feel lavishly loved. If they go to school after feeling extravagantly loved, any ill-shot cupid arrows won't penetrate their little puffed up hearts. Sadly, I haven't always been successful.
(Continued tomorrow, after Ethan's dental work which he will have to be put under general anesthesia.)
Saturday, February 11, 2006
My favorite 3 year old is here.
He was finally well this week after his bout with pneumonia. On Wednesday at preschool, his teacher said he was the only one in his class. Everyone, including his bus driver, had strep throat. Christina called his Dr. on Thursday because he'd hold his neck while playing. She didn't notice a fever, but the seizure meds he's on seem to lower his body temp. The Dr.'s office said she'd have to call Friday. They couldn't get him in Friday and said to call on Saturday. Today he got in. He has strep and an ear infection. The dr. said his throat looked like it REALLY was sore. Poor thing. So as soon as he is up from his nap, I'll spend the afternoon snuggling on the couch with him.
He was finally well this week after his bout with pneumonia. On Wednesday at preschool, his teacher said he was the only one in his class. Everyone, including his bus driver, had strep throat. Christina called his Dr. on Thursday because he'd hold his neck while playing. She didn't notice a fever, but the seizure meds he's on seem to lower his body temp. The Dr.'s office said she'd have to call Friday. They couldn't get him in Friday and said to call on Saturday. Today he got in. He has strep and an ear infection. The dr. said his throat looked like it REALLY was sore. Poor thing. So as soon as he is up from his nap, I'll spend the afternoon snuggling on the couch with him.
Hair Update
Paula asked how I was wearing my hair now. When she asked I was in the middle of wishing for that makeover. So here I am that day.
Yesterday I broke down and got someone else to touch up the color and cut it. (And for those who remember me posting about the waiter, who in reality was my hairdresser, no I wasn't up for the confrontation, so went to someone else.)
So here I am today.
Not sure if I'm going to wear it curly or straight. This is in between. The girl said she was only going to take an inch off, lol. Hairdressers. To think I used to be one.
Paula asked how I was wearing my hair now. When she asked I was in the middle of wishing for that makeover. So here I am that day.
Yesterday I broke down and got someone else to touch up the color and cut it. (And for those who remember me posting about the waiter, who in reality was my hairdresser, no I wasn't up for the confrontation, so went to someone else.)
So here I am today.
Not sure if I'm going to wear it curly or straight. This is in between. The girl said she was only going to take an inch off, lol. Hairdressers. To think I used to be one.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Locked Out
Last night as I started preparing and setting out the lunches for today, I realized there were no dessert items. I cannot in good conscience pack a kids lunch without giving them a dessert. It just seems unAmerican or something. So even though I was tired and would rather go to bed, I decided to make cookies.
I turned the oven on, softened the butter and then the frustration began. I could not find this:
For those of you with a Houdini toddler in the house, you may know what this is. For the others, I will explain. This is a very powerful magnet that sits on the side of my microwave oven. It is used to open magnetic cabinet locks. These are the only locks I have never seen a kid break into-ever! This sweet little knob never leaves its home, except when the flour/sugar cabinet needs to be opened. Then it is allowed to momentarily makes it presence known on the cabinet front and is sent immediately back to its lovely home. So where in the world was it???
I glanced around the countertop, in the sink, on the floor-all of the obvious places it might have come to rest if it had been knocked off. I would be blaming a dear little boy, but he hadn't been around for 4 days. So I called in the search team. After questioning each one as to whether or not they had possibly forgotten where this lil' knob lived and inadvertantly given him a new home, I had them searching. I even had them check their bedrooms on the off chance that someone was holding lil' knob and walked off with him. Nope! No where to be found.
My oven was more than preheated. It was already baking, just didn't have anything to bake. Poor hubby. He was called in and aided in the search. He finally got out a knife. What was he going to do? Saw into my cabinet? I should have more faith in him. He managed to slip it between the door and the lock, after a bit of trouble, and magically open the door. I was elated! And wouldn't you know it. There on the inside of that door sat mr. totlock. He somehow jumped from the microwave to the inside of the cabinet, thus locking himself inside the very cupboard he was designed to open. I would have never found him if it hadn't been for my very smart husband.
The cookies were made. The lunches were saved. Some kids had a very good lunch today. I just might have to remove not only Mr. Totlock, but his locking counterpart.
Last night as I started preparing and setting out the lunches for today, I realized there were no dessert items. I cannot in good conscience pack a kids lunch without giving them a dessert. It just seems unAmerican or something. So even though I was tired and would rather go to bed, I decided to make cookies.
I turned the oven on, softened the butter and then the frustration began. I could not find this:
For those of you with a Houdini toddler in the house, you may know what this is. For the others, I will explain. This is a very powerful magnet that sits on the side of my microwave oven. It is used to open magnetic cabinet locks. These are the only locks I have never seen a kid break into-ever! This sweet little knob never leaves its home, except when the flour/sugar cabinet needs to be opened. Then it is allowed to momentarily makes it presence known on the cabinet front and is sent immediately back to its lovely home. So where in the world was it???
I glanced around the countertop, in the sink, on the floor-all of the obvious places it might have come to rest if it had been knocked off. I would be blaming a dear little boy, but he hadn't been around for 4 days. So I called in the search team. After questioning each one as to whether or not they had possibly forgotten where this lil' knob lived and inadvertantly given him a new home, I had them searching. I even had them check their bedrooms on the off chance that someone was holding lil' knob and walked off with him. Nope! No where to be found.
My oven was more than preheated. It was already baking, just didn't have anything to bake. Poor hubby. He was called in and aided in the search. He finally got out a knife. What was he going to do? Saw into my cabinet? I should have more faith in him. He managed to slip it between the door and the lock, after a bit of trouble, and magically open the door. I was elated! And wouldn't you know it. There on the inside of that door sat mr. totlock. He somehow jumped from the microwave to the inside of the cabinet, thus locking himself inside the very cupboard he was designed to open. I would have never found him if it hadn't been for my very smart husband.
The cookies were made. The lunches were saved. Some kids had a very good lunch today. I just might have to remove not only Mr. Totlock, but his locking counterpart.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
I guess I'm going to have to make an appointment to have my hair cut.
A local radio station is having a contest. It is a Valentine's Heart 2 Heart Makeover contest. A devoted, loving man is supposed to nominate his sweetie for a makeover, wardrobe shopping with the experts, dinner, overnight at a posh hotel, etc. Would that not be a cool thing to win???
I mentioned it to hubby. I knew hinting would not get the job done. I told him the possible benefits of his actions: Free makeover for me, a FREE dinner and over night with me, he would get a free haircut, a very happy wife who he'd get to spend alone time with...
Figuring he probably didn't do it, I mentioned that I should just go ahead and make an appointment for this week to at least get a haircut. He laughed. "What do you think your chances are for winning this contest?" Well, he had a point. (Did I mention that you had to include a full length photo of you and your sweetie?) So are they looking for someone who "looks" like she desperately needs a makeover and wardrobe? Or someone who looks like a million bucks that they can make look frumpy in a before photo and then a knock-out in the after photos? Ok, so I would definately not make the latter category (except I can do a good frumpy.)
I reminded him that I did indeed win a contest of sorts. He honestly doesn't remember it at all. It was 20 years ago.
I was a young mom, pregnant with my 3rd child. Our marriage was at a tough point, I was still a new Christian desiring to be a perfect wife and mother (and feeling like a failure at both.) Finances were tight. I wore the same dress to church 3 times a week, and the same pair of shoes. In my desperation, I had the privilege of attending a Women's Advance at our church. (Same thing as a "retreat" but we like to think we are going forward, not running scared-hence the word "Advance.") It was a wonderful time of refreshing. For the cost, it meant more than a new dress or shoes that I could have bought. At the end of the Advance, they gave away prizes. All of them were lovely, but the grand prize was a free dinner and an overnight stay at the Marriott. Inside I so wanted to win something. It was a way to feel validated as a person. Receiving something special somehow spoke "you are valued and loved." I smiled, cheered, and rejoiced with each lady that won. As they were about to draw a name for the final prize, I caught myself hoping beyond hope. My heart was beating wildly. And then I caught myself.
I bowed my head and silently prayed, "Lord, please give this gift to someone who REALLY needs it. Amen." The leaders at the podium announced my name. I was in shock. If I hadn't been so pregnant, I would have jumped up and down. Still stunned I walked forward to collect my prize.
God, in His infinite mercy and grace, knew what this meant to me. It was His own special way of telling me that He did indeed love me and that I held value in His eyes. That was all that mattered.
I am not at a desperate place in life. My prayer once again is, "Lord, please give this prize to someone who REALLY needs it. Amen."
A local radio station is having a contest. It is a Valentine's Heart 2 Heart Makeover contest. A devoted, loving man is supposed to nominate his sweetie for a makeover, wardrobe shopping with the experts, dinner, overnight at a posh hotel, etc. Would that not be a cool thing to win???
I mentioned it to hubby. I knew hinting would not get the job done. I told him the possible benefits of his actions: Free makeover for me, a FREE dinner and over night with me, he would get a free haircut, a very happy wife who he'd get to spend alone time with...
Figuring he probably didn't do it, I mentioned that I should just go ahead and make an appointment for this week to at least get a haircut. He laughed. "What do you think your chances are for winning this contest?" Well, he had a point. (Did I mention that you had to include a full length photo of you and your sweetie?) So are they looking for someone who "looks" like she desperately needs a makeover and wardrobe? Or someone who looks like a million bucks that they can make look frumpy in a before photo and then a knock-out in the after photos? Ok, so I would definately not make the latter category (except I can do a good frumpy.)
I reminded him that I did indeed win a contest of sorts. He honestly doesn't remember it at all. It was 20 years ago.
I was a young mom, pregnant with my 3rd child. Our marriage was at a tough point, I was still a new Christian desiring to be a perfect wife and mother (and feeling like a failure at both.) Finances were tight. I wore the same dress to church 3 times a week, and the same pair of shoes. In my desperation, I had the privilege of attending a Women's Advance at our church. (Same thing as a "retreat" but we like to think we are going forward, not running scared-hence the word "Advance.") It was a wonderful time of refreshing. For the cost, it meant more than a new dress or shoes that I could have bought. At the end of the Advance, they gave away prizes. All of them were lovely, but the grand prize was a free dinner and an overnight stay at the Marriott. Inside I so wanted to win something. It was a way to feel validated as a person. Receiving something special somehow spoke "you are valued and loved." I smiled, cheered, and rejoiced with each lady that won. As they were about to draw a name for the final prize, I caught myself hoping beyond hope. My heart was beating wildly. And then I caught myself.
I bowed my head and silently prayed, "Lord, please give this gift to someone who REALLY needs it. Amen." The leaders at the podium announced my name. I was in shock. If I hadn't been so pregnant, I would have jumped up and down. Still stunned I walked forward to collect my prize.
God, in His infinite mercy and grace, knew what this meant to me. It was His own special way of telling me that He did indeed love me and that I held value in His eyes. That was all that mattered.
I am not at a desperate place in life. My prayer once again is, "Lord, please give this prize to someone who REALLY needs it. Amen."
Monday, February 06, 2006
Secrets
Do you keep secrets? I'm not asking whether or not you gossip, whether you hear it or speak it. I'm talking about keeping things from loved ones to spare them from what you perceive as "too stressful." Protecting them.
Here is an example: In the 11th week of my 4th pregnancy, we found out the baby had died. I was about to miscarry. We were devastated. The very same day we received this devastating news, my father-in-law was having heart surgery. When my mother-in-law phoned to tell us about how things went, I put on a cheerful voice and carried on as if everything was fine. I was thankful she didn't ask how I was feeling. I don't think I could have lied. But I still felt dishonest. I felt the same way talking with my sister-in-laws.
In the back of my mind, I imagined being in my mother-in-law's shoes. Her husband had undergone major heart surgery. If this was me, and one of my daughters happened to experience the loss of a child in utero, would I want to know? My answer? Absolutely! I would be heartbroken if my daughter had been afraid to tell me. But Michael thought it best to not tell his family at that time. I figured he knew them better than I did. I mentioned it to my own mom, who let me know that she would want to know and felt it was wrong of me to keep it from them.
I had my answer a few weeks later. When we finally shared the news that there would not be another grandbaby in 6 months, my mother-in-law thanked me for NOT telling her when it happened. So Michael was right. He knew his parents much better than I did.
I mentioned this to my children the other day. I figured I should let them know that in any situation that I could imagine, I did NOT want them keeping secrets from me. I told them I did not feel like anything would be too stressful. I would be disappointed if they did not share something that I could be praying for them. I would not get stressed about a situation, but I could certainly intercede with the Father for them. And I'd be hurt if they did not share what they were going through with me. My oldest, Christina said, "you mean, like when I didn't tell you right away that Ethan had pneuomonia?" Ouch!
Yes, that was exactly what I meant. I told her that I would have appreciated her telling me. If she was afraid I'd run down there to be with them, she could say, "I don't want you here, but you can be praying." She said that the reason she didn't tell me right away is because she DID need help. She was afraid she would tell me she really needed me to come down and that I would feel obligated and do it no matter what.
I let her know that I was capable of making critical decisions. That there was the chance I might have had to tell her "no, I can't come down to help right now." (yeah right) but that I would have appreciated being able to make that decision. So hopefully, I have that straight with my own children.
But I hate keeping secrets.
Friday, February 03, 2006
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Where's the Delete Key???
Have you ever wished you had a delete key for real life? Think of the immense possibilities that could bring. The next time something offensive slipped out of your mouth, you could back up, hit delete, engage your brain, then say something more intelligent. It wouldn't have to be saved to memory, just vanish.
What about people? Am I the only one who wishes I could hit delete on another person? (I know, it does not sound nice, nor very Christian.) I'm not talking about a family member who irriates me, nor the rude driver who just cut me off and thought it was somehow my fault. I'm talking about someone in your life that is a stumbling block: Someone who manages to steal your time, energy, or other resources. If I'm totally honest, stealing is not a very accurate term. Someone can't steal my time unless I allow it, but they can be very deceptive in their motives.
It could be the waiter at your favorite restaurant. You go there to enjoy the company of another individual and feast on your favorite cuisine. You don't go there for intrusive comments from this individual. Nor do you take kindly to their overt advances. A delete key would work nicely in this situation.
I don't mind confrontations. What I do mind is when I am so shocked by a person's free speech at I don't know how to respond. Sometimes I think a slap in the face seems appropriate for a lady, but I of course would never respond as such. The scenario is often played back in my head many times. Hours later I think of a snappy comeback or a word of truth that would have done the trick almost as well as the delete key. Some of your other options are:
1) To never go back to the restaurant and avoid the chance of it happening again.
2) Find out when that person works and only go on his days off.
3) Decide how and whom to confront about this person and do it.
4) Is delete still an option?
Maybe I'm not as confrontational as I thought I was. I wish I had a delete key in life. Even if it didn't permanently delete, but just stashed things in your recycle bin. At least then you could pull it out only when you felt like you were ready to deal with it. The rest of the time, it stays safely tucked in the bin.
Have you ever wished you had a delete key for real life? Think of the immense possibilities that could bring. The next time something offensive slipped out of your mouth, you could back up, hit delete, engage your brain, then say something more intelligent. It wouldn't have to be saved to memory, just vanish.
What about people? Am I the only one who wishes I could hit delete on another person? (I know, it does not sound nice, nor very Christian.) I'm not talking about a family member who irriates me, nor the rude driver who just cut me off and thought it was somehow my fault. I'm talking about someone in your life that is a stumbling block: Someone who manages to steal your time, energy, or other resources. If I'm totally honest, stealing is not a very accurate term. Someone can't steal my time unless I allow it, but they can be very deceptive in their motives.
It could be the waiter at your favorite restaurant. You go there to enjoy the company of another individual and feast on your favorite cuisine. You don't go there for intrusive comments from this individual. Nor do you take kindly to their overt advances. A delete key would work nicely in this situation.
I don't mind confrontations. What I do mind is when I am so shocked by a person's free speech at I don't know how to respond. Sometimes I think a slap in the face seems appropriate for a lady, but I of course would never respond as such. The scenario is often played back in my head many times. Hours later I think of a snappy comeback or a word of truth that would have done the trick almost as well as the delete key. Some of your other options are:
1) To never go back to the restaurant and avoid the chance of it happening again.
2) Find out when that person works and only go on his days off.
3) Decide how and whom to confront about this person and do it.
4) Is delete still an option?
Maybe I'm not as confrontational as I thought I was. I wish I had a delete key in life. Even if it didn't permanently delete, but just stashed things in your recycle bin. At least then you could pull it out only when you felt like you were ready to deal with it. The rest of the time, it stays safely tucked in the bin.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Song
I heard this song the other day and cried. It isn't brand new, but I had never heard it.
Artist Joe Nichols
"If Nobody Believed in You"
I watched him take the two strike call:
He hadn't tried to swing at all.
I guess he'd had all that he could take,
He walked away, for goodness sake.
His father's voice was loud an' mean:
"You won't amount to anything."
That little boy quit tryin',
He just walked away.
There were teardrops on his face.
Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.
That old man said: "One more try,
"I know I'm not too old to try.
"I promise, son, I'll do my best,
"This time, I'm gonna pass the test."
"Give me the keys, Dad, an' get in."
His father never drove again.
That old man quit tryin',
He just turned away.
An' there were teardrops on his face.
Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.
We take His name out of schools.
The lawyers say it breaks the rules.
Pledge of allegiance can't be writ,
An' under God, should not be said.
I wonder how He will take.
I just pray it's not too late.
What if God quit tryin',
He just turned away?
There were teardrops on his face?
Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.
Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.
I heard this song the other day and cried. It isn't brand new, but I had never heard it.
Artist Joe Nichols
"If Nobody Believed in You"
I watched him take the two strike call:
He hadn't tried to swing at all.
I guess he'd had all that he could take,
He walked away, for goodness sake.
His father's voice was loud an' mean:
"You won't amount to anything."
That little boy quit tryin',
He just walked away.
There were teardrops on his face.
Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.
That old man said: "One more try,
"I know I'm not too old to try.
"I promise, son, I'll do my best,
"This time, I'm gonna pass the test."
"Give me the keys, Dad, an' get in."
His father never drove again.
That old man quit tryin',
He just turned away.
An' there were teardrops on his face.
Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.
We take His name out of schools.
The lawyers say it breaks the rules.
Pledge of allegiance can't be writ,
An' under God, should not be said.
I wonder how He will take.
I just pray it's not too late.
What if God quit tryin',
He just turned away?
There were teardrops on his face?
Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.
Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
I had the best time meeting with Heth! She is every bit as real and sweet as she is on her blog. And that baby was just adorable. I think we could have chatted all day long and never run out of things to talk about. I found it very amusing that our dh's seemed to have a lot in common too. I am so thankful we had the chance to meet in person. She is a rare gem.
Friday, January 27, 2006
I couldn't sleep last night. Either it was the Starbucks I had at 4:30 or I was too excited about today. I think it was the latter, or both. You see, I'm going to do something today that I've never done before. I'm going to meet one of my online friends in person. She happens to be in town with her hubby, who is on a business trip. I have no idea what we will talk about, but I have a feeling we will find plenty of topics for conversation. Of course there is a tricky part to this whole situation.
I've always warned my children that there is no way I would let them meet someone online and in real life. I've drilled into them the dangers of weirdos lurking on the internet, waiting to deceive them into believing they are someone they are not. I've questioned them on any "new friends." How do you really know she is a 14 year old girl from Japan? It is probably a 40 year old man posing as a girl. When they argue that they've seen pictures, my response has been, "how do you know that is who they really are? They could use a niece's picture or anyones for that matter. Then your friend will all of the sudden find themselves visiting the U.S. and want to meet you somewhere. In reality, it is all a setup to meet this pervert."
So how do I tell them I'm going to meet this lovely lady, with children, at the hotel she is staying at-or a bakery across the street from her hotel? I'm not setting a very good example am I.
I am excited none-the-less, to meet a fellow blogger whom I've loved getting to know via bloglife and now to meet face-to-face.
I've always warned my children that there is no way I would let them meet someone online and in real life. I've drilled into them the dangers of weirdos lurking on the internet, waiting to deceive them into believing they are someone they are not. I've questioned them on any "new friends." How do you really know she is a 14 year old girl from Japan? It is probably a 40 year old man posing as a girl. When they argue that they've seen pictures, my response has been, "how do you know that is who they really are? They could use a niece's picture or anyones for that matter. Then your friend will all of the sudden find themselves visiting the U.S. and want to meet you somewhere. In reality, it is all a setup to meet this pervert."
So how do I tell them I'm going to meet this lovely lady, with children, at the hotel she is staying at-or a bakery across the street from her hotel? I'm not setting a very good example am I.
I am excited none-the-less, to meet a fellow blogger whom I've loved getting to know via bloglife and now to meet face-to-face.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
My Obsession
(I edited this post to add a pic of when I was in second grade to give you an idea of why I hated my hair.)
Okay, a confession to make. I have an obsession about my hair. For most of my life, I've always had short hair. Growing up, I yearned for long, silky hair like both of my sisters. But I was blessed with naturally curly hair (hated hearing that growing up) and because my mom didn't know what to do with it, she kept it pixie short.
I'll admit, we didn't have the hair products out there that we have now for taming wild locks, but surely something different could have been done. I think that was the beginning of my hair obsession.
When I was in 2nd grade, after a particularly bad haircut, I was walking on the playground. (Hmmm...that word sort of dates me, doesn't it? I have no idea if they are still called that.) A boy who was probably in 5th grade came up to me and asked, "are you a boy or girl?" I don't recall giving him an answer, just the feelings of being ugly and unfeminine.
Finally in 7th grade I convinced my mom to let my hair grow. When I finally got it past my shoulders, I went in to have it "shaped." Imagine my horror when the first cut the girl made was whacking it above my shoulders. I went home and cried, feeling ugly and wondering if I would ever feel attractive.
My senior year of high school, I went to cosmetology school. I learned to work with my hair and found I did like curly hair. I continued with short hair styles, but I did feel more feminine.
Three or 4 years ago, I had this crazy idea to let my hair grow long. (Maybe it was that whole getting close to 40 idea that it's now or never so if you're going to do it, better do it now.) It was ok. I think I have one absolutely awful picture of it. I finally cut off 4 inches and it seemed more manageable. Then a girlfriend talked me into trying it red. Michael had asked me for years to try it, but I just never thought it would look good on me. (I completely forgot that my Irish grandmother had beautiful auburn hair.) Michael loves red hair, and wants me to keep it that way. My mother hates it, says it is way too dark. (Well, it changes almost weekly, so if it is too dark, wait until next week or month.)
But seriously, I find my hair tends to dictate whether I am having a good day or bad. I know this sounds terribly shallow, but something I struggle with. Since high school, I wash and fix my hair every morning. Right away I know what kind of a day I will have. I do think it stems from the issues of feeling so unfeminine growing up. Now I'm debating about whether to post or put a link here of the hair pics I've taken more recently from the blonde/gray to burgundy red changes. It seems like such vanity, but it is an obsession of mine.
(I edited this post to add a pic of when I was in second grade to give you an idea of why I hated my hair.)
Okay, a confession to make. I have an obsession about my hair. For most of my life, I've always had short hair. Growing up, I yearned for long, silky hair like both of my sisters. But I was blessed with naturally curly hair (hated hearing that growing up) and because my mom didn't know what to do with it, she kept it pixie short.
I'll admit, we didn't have the hair products out there that we have now for taming wild locks, but surely something different could have been done. I think that was the beginning of my hair obsession.
When I was in 2nd grade, after a particularly bad haircut, I was walking on the playground. (Hmmm...that word sort of dates me, doesn't it? I have no idea if they are still called that.) A boy who was probably in 5th grade came up to me and asked, "are you a boy or girl?" I don't recall giving him an answer, just the feelings of being ugly and unfeminine.
Finally in 7th grade I convinced my mom to let my hair grow. When I finally got it past my shoulders, I went in to have it "shaped." Imagine my horror when the first cut the girl made was whacking it above my shoulders. I went home and cried, feeling ugly and wondering if I would ever feel attractive.
My senior year of high school, I went to cosmetology school. I learned to work with my hair and found I did like curly hair. I continued with short hair styles, but I did feel more feminine.
Three or 4 years ago, I had this crazy idea to let my hair grow long. (Maybe it was that whole getting close to 40 idea that it's now or never so if you're going to do it, better do it now.) It was ok. I think I have one absolutely awful picture of it. I finally cut off 4 inches and it seemed more manageable. Then a girlfriend talked me into trying it red. Michael had asked me for years to try it, but I just never thought it would look good on me. (I completely forgot that my Irish grandmother had beautiful auburn hair.) Michael loves red hair, and wants me to keep it that way. My mother hates it, says it is way too dark. (Well, it changes almost weekly, so if it is too dark, wait until next week or month.)
But seriously, I find my hair tends to dictate whether I am having a good day or bad. I know this sounds terribly shallow, but something I struggle with. Since high school, I wash and fix my hair every morning. Right away I know what kind of a day I will have. I do think it stems from the issues of feeling so unfeminine growing up. Now I'm debating about whether to post or put a link here of the hair pics I've taken more recently from the blonde/gray to burgundy red changes. It seems like such vanity, but it is an obsession of mine.
Out On The Boat
During our trip to Phoenix, Michael and I went out on my sister's boat. They live in a Lake Community. Seeing as how Phoenix is actually part of the desert, living on a lake seems the only option for surviving the Arizona heat in the summer. In the winter it is gorgeous! We had a lovely cruise around the lake looking at equisite and expensive homes. Here are some photos to give you an idea of what I am talking about. Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera, so had to take these with my phone, so the quality is poor.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Grandmother
I post on several message boards. On one of them, all the rage are these fancy "grandmother" signatures. I don't have a single really decent photo of Ethan from recently. (Mostly, because I can't get him to stay still long enough for them not to blur.) But I tried playing around with one from his first winter. I forgot how adorable he was as a baby.
After I got so hyped up about the Football game yesterday, I got to missing Ethan. Because we'd been out of town the weekend before, I hadn't seen him for nearly 14 days. And it would be another 5 at least before I'd see him. Plus, I talked to my daughter and he'd been at the Emergency Room on Thursday. He has pneumonia again. So instead of watching the game (good choice-guess who lost?) I drove 90 miles to see that sweet boy. He was so happy and just wanted to sit in my lap. Only got to stay a few hours before I had to get home, but I was so glad I had gone. I hated leaving. Ethan started crying and trying to pull me back to the couch to sit with him. I cried at least the first 20 miles home.
Oh, and here is a not too particularly good pic of Michael and I, but figured it was about time we started taking more pics together.
After I got so hyped up about the Football game yesterday, I got to missing Ethan. Because we'd been out of town the weekend before, I hadn't seen him for nearly 14 days. And it would be another 5 at least before I'd see him. Plus, I talked to my daughter and he'd been at the Emergency Room on Thursday. He has pneumonia again. So instead of watching the game (good choice-guess who lost?) I drove 90 miles to see that sweet boy. He was so happy and just wanted to sit in my lap. Only got to stay a few hours before I had to get home, but I was so glad I had gone. I hated leaving. Ethan started crying and trying to pull me back to the couch to sit with him. I cried at least the first 20 miles home.
Oh, and here is a not too particularly good pic of Michael and I, but figured it was about time we started taking more pics together.
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