Coffee Anyone?

It's funny the things that stick with you and even more interesting the influence one person might have on a child.  We were sitting at dinner the other night and as dinner was wrapping up, my husband and I were giving out instructions for cleaning up for the evening, showers after, etc.  Our oldest, who never seems to know when the proper time to stop questioning "why" or injecting "buts" was doing the usual; complaining about having to do dishes, going on about how unfair it was, and basically exaggerating the situation to the point where you'd think she was working in a sweat shop.  She kept pushing the envelope in the usual teen way, and right before I was about to go into a parental lecture, my middle daughter said one word to her sister.  "Filter."  "Filter, Jessica", she said.

All four of the rest of us just stopped dead in our tracks, slack-jawed and staring at Sarah in her simplistic wisdom that was delivered so succinctly, so calmly and precisely.  Even Jessica stopped talking - a miracle in itself. 

I told Sarah that summed it up perfectly.  Jessica needed to learn to filter what went on between the thoughts swirling around in her head and the words that came out of her mouth.  It is such a simple concept, one that people of all ages of reason should practice and I wondered where on earth my ten-year-old had suddenly come up with this terminology that sounded like it had come out of a psych 101 class.  So I asked her. "Sarah, that is a wonderful way to describe it and something we can all practice.  Where did you learn that?" 

Now beaming, and obviously proud of herself, she told me a teacher she had two years before had told her class about filtering.  That filtering was going through your thoughts before saying anything and thinking through the consequences of what delivering them aloud would be.  Hence: filtering! 

So, for two years, my daughter had carried this around in the back of her mind and then when she saw a moment when it applied, it came to the forefront.  That teacher had left an imprint, one she probably doesn't even know about.  One that I thank her for now.  Of course, Sarah could practice filtering at times herself.  We all could.  And that's why I chose this as my topic today.

Think about it as a coffee filter.  You put the coffee grounds in the top of the coffee maker in a filter.  The filter keeps all the icky grounds out of the coffee letting only the water through, giving us a pure cup of coffee. Our mind is full of coffee grounds.  Mixed up thoughts.  Some that aren't so nice.  Some might be hurtful, spiteful, or disobedient.  Now, imagine a filter lining our brain.  The filter is us taking a pause, a breath to think about the consequences of what words we allow to escape our mouths.  That pause, that filter can allow only the good, necessary words to get through and keep all those "coffee ground" thoughts up behind the filter where they belong. 

Sure, there are always some things that need to be addressed, some things that might not be pleasant.  There are times where you might need to take a stand or stand up for yourself.  There are moments where you might have to speak a truth that's harsh, but someone needs to hear for a greater good.  But, think it through first.  Who are you saying it for and why? 

So my brief message today is "filter" and the credit goes to my daughter "Sarah" and her former third-grade teacher.

Oprah and Superman

Oprah Winfrey has been someone I have always admired.  She is a person who has taken her fame and done wonderful things to bring about positive change in the world.  I often miss her show because I am busy with the tedious tasks of every day life, but being this is her last season and I have pretty much grown up watching her show, I have been trying to tune in each day while I tend to my other tasks.

Today, I was glad I did and she had my full attention.  Her show focused on a documentary that is coming out within the next month called "Waiting for Superman".  This documentary is to focus on the serious flaws that we have in our American public education system.

As a mom, and a former teacher, I was very impassioned by this show.  Anything to do with children, especially when it is something that leaves children vulnerable when they have no power to act on their behalf, brings out the mama bear in me.

I felt the need to get the word out in my own neighborhood about this film and urge educators in my own system to not only see it, but walk away from it with ideas they are ready to implement to better our school systems.  They will most likely file my email in their spam or junk mail bin.  Some might read it and then click delete.  But if even one educator reads it and takes it to heart, I hope it makes at least a little bit of a difference.

I have felt for years that our school systems were flawed and had pinned high hopes on the first George Bush to change our educational system with his promises of school vouchers, something I had been preaching for in school reports way back in my college days.  Well, former President Bush let me down.  School vouchers never came to fruition.

The current President, well, let's just say I am not a fan.  He doesn't seem to have any interests outside of pointing the finger to blame someone else when something goes wrong.  Other than that, he seems to stand for nothing.  When he ran for election, we heard all about change.  Well, the economy tanked, so I guess we got change.  But, I digress.  This is not meant to be a political debate.

Back to the Oprah show.  I was so inspired by the show, I immediately set off to contact every member of the school board, superintendent, principal of my kids' schools, and all other school administrators I could find.

It is not an earth-shattering, monumental step, but everyone has to start somewhere, so this was my first step.  Maybe if something comes of it, I can take another step and get a ball rolling with other people interested in change.

Anyway, I thought for today's blog, I would share my letter with you. I did change the names in case they wouldn't want to be identified, though the principal should be.  He is one of the best I have seen in years.

Dear interim superintendent, members of the school board and administration, and Principal xxxxxx,

I am contacting all of you because I strongly believe it would be very beneficial if every teacher, school administrator, school board member, principal, and superintendent would go to see the documentary "Waiting for Superman" that will be opening in theaters in October 2010.  This documentary addresses many of the issues that plague our school systems here in America today. 

I whole-heartedly agree with this film that there are many teachers out there that are hiding comfortably under a blanket of tenure; that our schools are teaching to tests and yet many children don't learn that way.  I think teachers need to be more accountable for their students' performance and that learning needs to be more hands-on.  I feel that we have become so focused on test scores and overall statistics that individual students are no longer seen.  I believe that our educational system is seriously broken and this film brings to light a lot of serious issues that need to be addressed.

We at ABC Elementary school have a principal that I personally feel is on the right track.  We need more teachers and administrators like him.  He knows every student in his school.  He wants every parent involved and is implementing ways to get them there.  It is a step in the right direction.  I also know there is only so much he can do on his own. 

I have seen teachers that are burned out and should not be in the classroom anymore.  I have personally observed a teacher just a few years ago in our own school system that was so disorganized I didn't know how my daughter learned anything in her class.  Yet these teachers remain in our schools year after year.  Instead of focusing on children's test scores, why aren't we requiring teachers to take a certain number of continuing education classes over a specified amount of time to keep their teaching methods current and fresh; classes that might inspire them?  Why is the pressure to do better on the kids and not on the teachers and administrators?  Isn't it our job, as parents and educators to help our children?  Isn't it our job to help them shine and be the best they can be?  I think it is.  It is our job to show our children the way.  It's our job to give our children every opportunity to succeed.  

I urge this film be shown across all schools across our county - if not across America.  We can quote a "no child left behind" policy all we want, but the fact is, children are still being left behind.  The fact is, in some areas, things are getting worse.  Please require all educators to see this film. Thank you for taking the time to read what I have to say.

With deepest sincerity,

Gianna xxxxxxxx

Tick Tock

As summer has flown by and I wonder where it all went so quickly, I wish I had more time.  More time to vacation, more time to spend with the kids, more time to relax, more time to be silly and have fun. 

Not long ago, my daughter and I were discussing a website she wanted to join.  I told her I felt she already spent enough time on the computer and joining this new site would just add to that time.  I tried to point out that there is little more than a month left to her summer vacation and soon she would be back in school, without the luxury of deciding when to go out and play, when she would have to be on the computer doing homework.  That the days would grow shorter and the weather colder and she would find herself longing for these summer days again. 

What my daughter wasn't understanding, what I was trying to explain to her, is that each moment, every second we breathe, is our life.  There are no do-overs.  If there is something we want to do, now is the time.  No one is guaranteed a tomorrow.  If there is an interest she wants to pursue, the time is now.  As a kid, this is her time to have fun, be silly, play games, imagine, explore, try new things, and broaden her horizons.  And I think she would be sad if she looked back on it and saw that all she did was spend all her time on the computer and missed out on other things.  As a parent, I limit that computer time.  Sure, it makes me unpopular, but it forces her to pursue her other interests and encourages her to imagine other possibilities.

Parents don't get do-overs either.  We have one shot with our kids.  We don't get to redo their childhoods when we realize one day that we wish we had spent more time with them.  Now is the time to put the computer aside and color that page with your child or let the laundry linger a little longer and go fishing together.  This is the time to leave work on time and gather around a campfire in the backyard.  Kids won't care that you worked overtime to bring in a few extra dollars.  What they will remember, what they will cherish is that you went sledding with them when you had that big snowstorm.  Or that you used to cook hotdogs over the firepit in the backyard and then tell scary stories.  They'll remember movie nights, game nights, and extra cuddles. 

Life is this moment.  It's not tomorrow.  It's not yesterday.  It's this moment.  And what you choose to do with this moment will define how your life will be.  Will you be kind to others?  Will you choose to be happy with what you have or spend your time always wanting more?  Will you love your family or hurt them?  Will you comfort someone in need or turn away because you don't want to get involved?  Will you love with all your heart?  How will you spend this moment? How will you live life? Whatever you choose to do, your child will learn from it. How do you want them to live their lives?

Hidden Truths

     It's been awhile since I last blogged.  Life got busy and apparently one of my blogs hit a nerve with a reader.  My blogs come straight from my life, but let me be clear that I was speaking the truth when I said that true names would never be stated.  I also speak the truth when I tell you, my readers, however many or few of you there may be, that I stand by every word I post 100%.

     We find ourselves in a new era, unchartered territory for many.  Information becomes public with the click of a button.  And once out there, there is no getting it back.  It can be helpful, and it can be risky, dangerous even.

     If a reader finds themselves reading a blog and reflecting inwardly, whether or not it was meant for them, then I think that's a good thing.  It got people thinking.  Hopefully it brings about positive change.  Sometimes we come across a situation, book, or article that leaves us, myself included, facing hidden truths within ourselves we would rather not see.  Things we know about ourselves but don't like to admit.

     I myself had to face some of these truths in recent months and have gained some pretty wonderful things because of it.  I have better relationships with people in my life that I didn't have before and I am a happier person for it.  Unfortunately, I am still waiting for some others to catch on.  Maybe in time they will come around, maybe they won't.  One thing I have learned, is that it is out of my control.  It is a decision and a step that those people must make.

     I was going to stop blogging, but I think I have some important things to say.  I think some of them might be helpful to other moms out there... and not necessarily just moms, but all people, like me, living through the joys and challenges of each day.  So, I am back to blogging.  No offense is intended to anyone in particular in any of these articles.  These articles are about me, my parenting, and day-to-day life.  Anything more a reader relates to these events is purely coincidental.

Snow Days

When I sit back and think really hard, I can remember the days "way back when" I was a child and a new snowfall brought on squeals of delight from me and my siblings.  It meant no school, sledding, snowball battles, snow angels, and fun.  But now I almost cringe at the mention of the "S" word.  Snow.  That white stuff turns walking down the driveway to the mailbox into an extreme sport for the clumsy person that I am, let alone navigating sidewalks and parking lots. Snow means aching bones, scraping snow and ice off the car windows, treacherous roads, school closings, long lines at the grocery store, and loss of electricity. 

As I am currently smack-dab in the middle of our third big snowfall this winter, I have limited my outdoor time to shaking the snow off of our young evergreens so the branches don't break. Indoors, I spend my time working (thank goodness I don't have to commute!), doing the laundry and spending time with the kids when they choose to come in from the cold to defrost. 

Snow really throws our state off the track, with the federal government and schools closing and everyone running to the grocery store to "stock up".  This is a concept I can't fully grasp.  Every time the weatherman mentions the "S" word, hoards of people stampede to the grocery stores, clambering for milk, eggs, butter, bread, and bottled water.  How long do they think we are going to be "trapped" indoors?  Will they really run out of food if they can't get to the store for two or three days?  Are their cupboards bare, fridges empty?  I look at the food I have in my house on any given day and I think outside of immediate perishables, we could probably live for a month on what is already in the house.  Sure, it might be pickles and baked beans for dinner, but we definitely wouldn't starve. 

Cars take on a mind of their own in the snow as well.  Drivers helplessly gawk out the windshield, eyes the size of dinner plates, as their cars start randomly running into ditches, poles, and even other cars.  All previous driver's ed goes completely out the window as human instinct takes over and drivers just throw up their hands.

But, even though I don't enjoy the cold and snow as a general rule and dream of the day when I retire somewhere with the three good "S's" - sun, sand, and surf, I am still able to find some enjoyment in it all.

The first night of the snowfall is so quiet and peaceful - as if the blanket of snow is covering the sleeping city, bringing it to a hush. The next day, by contrast, is excitement - from the kids, of course.  They bundle up and run outside, frolicking in the snow, sledding, building snowmen and having a blast.  An hour later, they come in, change into dry clothes, and have some hot cocoa.  After that, they bundle up and go back out again.  When they come in an hour later, they change into more dry clothes, (yes, I have already said that) and my work begins trying to stay ahead of the laundry.  After three changes of clothes, the snow scrooge in me finally declares there will be no more wardrobe changes.  If you're in, you're in for good, if not, then sit by the fire and dry off!

There is something about the snowfall and school closings that I enjoy though and that is extra quality time with my family.  We forget about bedtimes, we play games, watch movies and read to each other all day long.  When we lost power in our recent snowstorm, the kids were "unplugged" and had to resort to non-electronic board games, card games and dice games.  And, even though there was moaning at the first moment of the power outage, the children actually learned that they could still have fun without all the laptops, tv shows, and telephones.  When we are snowed-in, we throw caution to the wind and make breakfast for dinner - a fun breakfast with chocolate chip pancakes topped with bananas, and your choice of syrup, whipped cream or both.  It's a day when Brad and I can forget about the daily responsibilities of work and enjoy our family. It's a time when we move the coffee table out of the way and "camp out" in front of the fire in the family room and sleep on sleeping bags on the couch and floor as we watch a movie together. 

Snow or no snow, try to make the most of any given situation.  As the saying goes, "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade."  Well, in this case "when life gives you snow, make hot cocoa".

Resolutions

I am not big on New Year's resolutions.  I feel like if we are vowing to do something for the new year, then it's probably something we should have been doing all along - eating healthy, exercising, etc.  For instance, how many people join a gym with the full intent of getting fit enough by summertime to finally fit into that bikini in the closet, only to quit going a month later when the familiar routines take hold?  Then summer rolls in and they find themselves buying a one-piece suit in a bigger size.  But this year, I decided to make a resolution.  And yes, one that I should be living by already and one that will set an example for my children as well as providing me more peace.

How many times, when our children get into a disagreement or scuffle have we made the guilty party apologize, only to get the oh-so-heartfelt eye-roll followed by a sigh and a mumbled "Sor-ry"?  We are trying to teach our children that it is important to make amends.  I also add in that the receiver of the apology needs to then say "I forgive you".  Each party needs to recognize their part in the situation and learn to admit when they were wrong and be able to forgive people because, it turns out, we are all human. But the best way to teach my children forgiveness is to practice it myself; let them see forgiveness in action, and hope they learn by example rather than by rote.

I really do do my very best to forgive.  As a matter of fact, I sometimes felt like I have had the word "doormat" tattooed across my forehead from letting people walk over me just to keep the peace.  So when I was wronged for the umpteenth time by a family member this summer, I had decided enough was enough.  This time, I would take a stand.  I was not going to keep jumping through hoops for this person only to be knocked down again and again.  I had tried all sorts of tactics to please this person for years, but it was all up to whether the other individual was in the right mood whether or not they worked.  I mean, this person can hold a grudge like Billy Mays can sell Oxy-Clean!  At the age of 40, I had decided I was tired of the constant mind games and was closing the door on that relationship - this time for good. 

But after seeing this individual over the holidays, the tension and awkwardness that hung in the air made for a very unpleasant visit. We were civil, and there were other guests around for each of us to focus on, but barely a word was spoken between the two of us.

When I couldn't sleep that night, I was doing a lot of self-reflection and feeling guilty for having handled the situation poorly.  No, no fight had ensued or anything like that, but I had just done my best to avoid interaction with the individual in order to avoid further conflict and to silently let this person know that the relationship was still marred by the happenings of the summer.  I was still stinging from things that had been said months ago as well as a long family history behind that. 

Why can it be so hard for us to forgive others?  Sometimes it might be that the other person has spoken a truth that we did not want to hear or have been denying and when we are confronted with it, we take the defensive, unwilling to look at ourselves in an unflattering light. Or maybe we have been legitimately hurt in one form or another and we need time to lick our wounds.  But mostly, I think that it is difficult at times to forgive because in forgiveness we must acknowledge that the other person is just like ourselves, human.  All of us make mistakes and when we forgive we are verifying that we, ourselves, are included in that group of mistake-makers.

Forgiving doesn't mean that you have to be best friends with that person or even like them.  It is a conscious effort to get past the point of contention between the two parties.  By taking small steps and "practicing" forgiveness, we can eventually come to a cordial, or possibly a friendly or loving relationship.

I remember back when my husband and I were taking our marriage preparation classes that the Catholic church requires.  One of the couples teaching the class said that sometimes there would be days when we would have to purposefully decide that we loved our spouses.  That it doesn't always come easy; it sometimes take effort.  I think the same applies to all of the people in our lives. 

Forgiveness doesn't need to be announced.  In fact, I know if I walked up to the person I had a conflict with and said "I forgive you", she would say she didn't do anything to need my forgiveness.  No, forgiveness is internal, first in our head and then our heart.  It doesn't happen easily.  You have to take the first step by just saying to yourself  "I forgive them".  You need to practice it daily in your mind. Then you work on getting your brain to tell your heart.  When your brain and heart are finally in sync you will feel more at peace.

Sometimes the toughest person to forgive is ourselves. We are so hard on ourselves sometimes, always striving for perfection.  But when we realize our own imperfections and secret self-disappointments, we need to tell ourselves that we are doing the best we can on any given day in any given moment.  We need to embrace our human imperfections.  In doing so, we can gain greater self-acceptance and be more capable of forgiving others for their imperfections too.  When we learn that we are just as capable of the next person of causing disappointment, speaking harsh words, or striking out in other ways when we are angry, frustrated, hurt, stressed or upset, then we can be more forgiving of ourselves and others.  And that is what I have come to realize.  It's not only other people that can cause distress.  I am just as capable of doing so as the next person: if I can't forgive, then I am not recognizing that I am as flawed as the rest of humanity. So I have told myself that I handled things with the person of contention the best way I could on that given day and had to forgive myself for not really making more of an effort with them. I also realized that in doing so, I had to forgive the other person for the very same reason.  So I started in my mind, telling myself "I forgive her" over and over. And now my heart is starting to soften at the idea. And with that, I feel an inner peace that wasn't there before.

Forgiveness requires us to open our hearts to the suffering of others and extend compassion. 
By letting go of old grudges, we can feel a greater sense of freedom, healing and peace.  And by practicing forgiveness myself, I hope that I can pass that on to my children so that they may never be burdened with guilt, self-loathing, or grudges.  That they can live life with a lighter, happier heart and less worry.

So forgiveness is my resolution. And not one that will only last this year, but one that I plan on making a life-time practice.

I will leave you with a quote that I feel sums all of this up perfectly:

"Forgiveness is not forgetting an injustice done; it is the understanding that allows us to set aside the emotional impact of that injustice pertaining to ourselves.  When we no longer hold those emotions, and have understanding for the person, we have forgiven them. " - MoonSinger

Happy new year!

Christmas Spirit

For the past several weeks I have been frantically trying to clean the house, decorate inside and out, finish my Christmas shopping, wrap gifts, bake cookies.... wait, where was I?  Oh yes, losing my mind!  Let me know if you find it. 
 
In the meantime, I was getting more stressed out and starting to dread the big day - not as a celebration, but as a deadline. It was a deadline in which all the gifts had to be wrapped, the packing for traveling done, the big dinner prepared, and the shopping completed.  From under a mountain of rolls of wrapping paper, I realized I had to have everything done by December 25th and the day was speeding toward me like a freight train with no intention of stopping.  

But tonight, as we attended mass at our church, all the stress and anxiety melted away.  As I sat in church with my family at my side, the church decorated with lit trees and colorful poinsettias, I felt everything else slip away and was able to focus on the true meaning of the holiday.  Before mass began, I sat admiring the nativity scene and thought on a quiet night, thousands of years ago, a young mother was having a very special baby in a stable. Jesus was born.

The service continued with song and prayer and with each passing minute, I could feel the Christmas spirit flowing through me again.  I became at peace. I glanced  at my husband, smiled at my children, and realized that everything I need in the whole world was in that building right then and there.  I had God and my family.

On the way home in the car, even the children talked about how much they liked the priest that presided over the service and what a nice homily he delivered.  They marveled over the lights all over the Christmas trees and the huge star that hung over the manger. I told the children that it was in church that it started to feel like Christmas for me.  They, of course, said they have felt it all along since we started decorating right after Thanksgiving,  But then again, they weren't doing all the work!

This time of year really is a magical time of year.  At night everything falls quiet. I sit in the silence, which seems more profound on Christmas Eve, like the whole world is holding its breath anticipating the big event, the birth of our Lord.  And as I sit in silence, I really am reminded that it's not the presents or the decorations that make it Christmas.  For me, it is the time to reflect and be thankful for all the happy, healthy family I have, for good friends, and the faith we share that carries us through the difficult times.

My wish for you, my readers, is that you find that same sense of inner peace and appreciate the wonderful things that are already in your life and slow down a bit to savor each and every one.

Have a very merry Christmas and a blessed New Year! 

Family Traditions

I think one of the things that knits families closer together are family traditions.  We have many; some that we do every day (like reading together at night) and some that we carry out through the holidays.  It's the holiday ones I am addressing today. 

I often complain about putting our Christmas tree together.  It is so time-consuming and hard on the hands; and don't even get me started on stringing the lights!  Every year I say "Next year we are getting a pre-lit tree", but once our tree is up, I can't help but fall in love with it all over again. Due to my hubby's allergies, we have an artificial tree, but I have to say it is the most realistic-looking artificial tree I have ever seen.  I spotted it in a Hechinger's hardware store when my husband and I had our first apartment 17 years ago.  The store was right across the street from our apartment complex. While I was there one night looking for a gift for my husband, I saw that tree.  It was so full and pretty, I just had to get it.  Problem was, I was driving a Ford Escort at the time (the old, old ones) and the tree wouldn't fit on the roof, let alone the trunk.  So, I drove home, walked across the street to the store, bought the tree and wheeled it home on one of their large, flatbed carts!  Once there, I pushed it up the steps to the building and then pushed it down the stairs to our own apartment.  (Yes, I did take the cart back across the street to the store.) 

"Way back then" they didn't have pre-lit Christmas trees and we had very little to put on it; just a couple of boxes of red and gold ornaments, white lights and baby's breath with an angel on the top.  Our first "special" ornaments were put on the tree that year.  One was a personalized bride and groom ornament made from dough.  The other was a photo frame for our first Christmas together in which we put our photo.  Every year since, I have added an ornament or two that symbolizes what significant changes came our way that  year, or things we did together that year.  The second year, we had added a dog to the family and had purchased our first home.  So I bought an ornament that looked like our dog and another ornament that I painted to look like our house.  The year we had our first baby, we added several ornaments to the tree since we bought her a first Christmas ornament and about three other people bought them for her too.  When we went to Bolivia to live for two years, I acquired several ornaments that represented our time there as well as the culture.  We also have ornaments from Paris, Germany, Switzerland, and Australia - all places we have traveled to during my husband's career.  With each new baby came a new ornament.  And even when they were very young, they started making their own ornaments to put on the tree.  The first ones were made when my children were 4 years, 2 years, and 6 months old.  I took them to a local ceramic shop and let them choose an ornament to paint and they painted them all by themselves.  For my son, being too young to hold a paintbrush (he would probably have eaten it), I painted his feet and pressed them onto a plate with his name and the date since it would be his first Christmas.  Those ornaments along with the many others, still hang on our tree. 

One of our traditions is that the kids and I go to the craft store and choose one ornament to paint or decorate.  Then we sit around the table and paint them together.  Once dry, they go on the tree (name and date on back).  Each child has their own "section" of the tree where they place their ornaments themselves.  They lay claim to their own sections.  And I still continue to add ornaments that signify events that took place each year.... our next new house, our new dogs, a little wheelbarrow with gardening items in it to signify all the hard work we did landscaping outside that year, etc. 

And when we are done decorating our tree, I sit in awe of it.  No, not because it is the most beautiful tree you will ever lay eyes on.  I am sure there are some really beautiful designer trees out there and I could have one if I chose to decorate it that way.  But I don't.  When I look at our Christmas tree, it tells a story - the story of our family over the years.  I even found an ornament with a broken arm and leg on it to signify my physical struggles over two holidays!  This year, we started the summer tradition of cookouts around our new fire pit.  We would roast hot dogs over the fire and make s'mores for dessert.  It took some searching, but I managed to find a s'more ornament and a campfire ornament to recognize that new summer tradition.

The tree is chalk-fill of ornaments and I love it!  And the kids enjoy it too because they can see how they have changed both in photo ornaments and their skill level in making their ornaments.

Our other tradition started when my first baby, Jessica, was just three weeks old.  I had gotten a free stuffed snowman at a store and brought it home and thought it was bigger than she was.  So I sat her on the floor with daddy's hand supporting her and took her photo next to the snowman to show the size comparison.  It turned out to be something we do every year.  The children love looking at the photos of themselves next to "Frosty" - how small they were next to him first and now how tall they are beside him. 

We also have many other family traditions like opening one gift on Christmas Eve, something my father did with us when I was a youngster.  Every year "Santa" would make a personal appearance at our house and give us a gift.  I remember thinking how strange it was that daddy always missed Santa's visit for some reason.  Then, one year, I noticed Santa's shoes looked just like daddy's shoes!  Why was Santa wearing daddy's shoes?  Now this is a tradition we do every year, though without the Santa suit.  Our other traditions at the holiday are going to church, of course, and leaving cookies and milk for Santa and fruit and water in a bowl for the reindeer!  Then the day after Christmas we make the long drive in the "old family truckster" to see our extended family in our hometowns. 

Those traditions are the things I hope my children carry with them and look back on with fondness once they are all grown.  And maybe they'll continue the traditions with their own families along with the ones they will create for themselves.   

It is a hectic time of year, no doubt, and I won't deny that there are days when I want to pull my hair out if I have to drive around the lot even one more time to find any parking space or wait in one more line to pay for gifts or decorations; but when I come home to my family it all melts away when I get to spend that extra special time with them.

Official Mother of a Teenager

I can't believe it, but all of a sudden my first baby turned 13.  I am officially the mother of a teenager.  A teenager! Where did all the time go?  I look in the mirror at the roots that have grown back in my hair and they are gray!  How can that be?  I don't feel old enough to be going gray or have a teenage daughter.  But I am and I do.  Would I change anything though?  Not in a million years!

My daughter did a lot of debating over what she wanted her party to be like this year.  She said the roller skating rink was out - given my past history - even though I promised not to go near a pair of skates.  Then she thought maybe a party at the bowling alley, but ultimately decided on a slumber party with a group of her closest friends. 

I have to say, I really like having birthday parties out somewhere.  When you have a party at your house, you have all the food preparations, the baking, the chaos of other people's children running through your house and then, the mess to clean up after.  A party at a venue, on the other hand, is worry-free.  Other people set up, make the food, decorate, and clean up the mess afterward.  (Thus the concept of Chuck E. Cheese was born.  I have done no research, but I feel sure that the idea for that restaurant came after some parents' nervous breakdown after a party for kids in their own home!)  So, I was keeping my fingers crossed for the bowling allley - especially considering the fact that the party was just days before Thanksgiving.  But, she decided to have it at home and I went along with it.  Thankfully, she is not that all into decorations like crepe paper and balloons anymore.  But, you can't placate a group of 12- and 13-year-olds with games like pin the tail on the donkey.  So, we had to come up with a party activity and Jessica decided she wanted to tie-dye shirts with her friends.  Now keep in mind, we live in Virginia, so it is not warm enough to undertake this activity outdoors; especially when it is a sleepover and the party started at 6 p.m. after it was already dark.  Against my better judgment, I agreed and we went out and got the supplies.  To my surprise, it actually went well and there was very little mess.  A plastic table cloth covered the table and the dyes have come a long way since I oversaw the activity with girl scouts back in my college years.  Back then, there was vinegar involved, buckets of dye, letting shirts soak longer for darker colors, etc. etc. etc.  Now though, the dye companies have come a long way.  You simply mix the powder dye that is already in its own bottle with warm water and each child can wrap their shirt in rubber bands and then squeeze the dye onto the shirts section by section.  Very little mess was made and what there was wiped right off the party tablecloth. They all loved the activity and couldn't wait to see the results the next morning. 

The best part of the party for me, and I am sure I can speak for my daughter when I say it was the best part for her too, came when it was time to open gifts.  I was so excited about what we got her, I could hardly wait for present-opening time! 

My daughter has been begging for a cell phone for well over a year now.  I told her she really didn't need a cell phone and I didn't think she was old enough at 12 years of age to be responsible with it.  (In terms of loss, that is.)  She tried to make a case that she could call her friends, but I told her she could use our land line.  Then she said she could call to check in with me when they were out playing to see if it was time to come home or if she needed to ask me something.  I told her she could do that like we did in the "olden days" and use her little legs to walk the 50 yards between our house and those houses of her friends.  Behind the scenes though, as her birthday approached, my husband and I discussed the cell phone.  It was a nominal additional cost to the plan we already have, the phone was free with a two year renewal of our contract, and now she was turning 13 years old and was proving herself to be more responsible.  She earns straight A's in school and is very trustworthy.  So, we secretly ordered the phone for her birthday.... call it a right of passage for her move into "teendom".  Then I went out and bought the decoy present.  I wanted this moment to be big - one she would remember.

I was out shopping without her one day and bought a purse I thought she would like that suits her age along with an umbrella.  Her umbrella had recently broken, so I thought she might like to have a new one.  (I chuckle.)  When I got home, I charged her new cell phone in my bedroom with a pillow over it so she wouldn't see, set it all up, and then zippered it inside the front section of the purse.  I wrapped the purse-holding cell phone and umbrella in a shirt box.  My husband and I made a plan to call the phone after she opened the box and saw the purse and umbrella.  I couldn't wait for her to open it because I knew how thrilled she would be once she found her "real" gift. 

Finally the moment arrived.  With her friends gathered around her, she opened each gift and read each card.  Then she got to our gift and was sure it was clothes.  You could almost read the word disappointment on her face when she first opened the box.  But she played it well and said how nice it was and thanked us.  Brad had the video camera and I had the still camera to catch it all on film.  While she was looking at the umbrella with the purse still in the box, the purse started to ring - well sing, being that the ring tone sounded more like a song than a ring. 

It was hysterical watching the faces turn from disappointment to bewilderment to hopeful to sheer joy!  You could see it like a wave.  Her friend nearest her heard it first and kind of cocked her head, wondering if she was hearing something or not.  Then her other friend heard it and everyone started shushing everyone else.  When it was really quiet, Jessica heard it and started to search for the source of the noise.  She looked in the purse's main compartment and pulled out.... paper stuffing.  Then she looked in the zippered compartment and pulled out.... a cell phone!  You have never heard shrieks and squeals like the ones that hit the airwaves that day. Every dog in the neighborhood probably ended up with a migraine due to how high-pitched and loud they were!  She practically flew out of her seat to hug me and her father and seven teenagers were literally jumping up and down in the living room.  Even her friends hugged me and thanked me because they could finally call and text Jessica, who had been the last living girl in the county without a cell phone.

Immediately they started texting each other - though they were all sitting right there together, so I guess that's a generational gap that I will never understand, and entering each other's phone numbers and contacts.  I made it to #3 on her speed dial.  Number three?  I would think that the gift alone would have warranted me the top spot of #2!  (Number one dials voice mail.)  But alas, I came second on the list.  I would probably have been fifth if she could call her two dogs!  Thanks goodness they don't have cell phones!

The rest of the evening was work-free.  They all went off to the basement to text, chat, paint nails and slumber.  Turned out to be a pretty easy party after all, and a lot of fun. 

The best part though was her reaction to her gift.  That's why I enjoy gift giving so much; seeing the joy on the face of someone I love and care for.  That is something that is truly priceless.  And for a moment I forgot about my graying hair and aching bones and the number of my age (no, I won't tell) and just relished in the moment. 

Break a leg!

Break a leg.... I don't see how that expression is meant to mean good luck.  It sure isn't me.  Now that the holidays are upon us, it's time to break out the decorations, participate in family traditions, and celebrate the joy of the season.  Well, so far I am batting two out of three.  Well, I broke out the decorations, but also broke my ankle.  Like all our neighbors this weekend, we got out our decorations and took advantage of the nice weather to put up our outdoor lights.  Who knew it would turn out to be an extreme sport?  After trimming our Carolina Sapphire pine tree to dress it up for Christmas, I strung the lights on.  As luck would have it this year, all four sets actually lit on the first try.  With the added glee from not having to find the bad bulb in a string of 400 lights, I then moved on to the lawn ornaments.  This year I finally bought the two lit wicker reindeer and one lit wicker snowman that we have been wanting for a long time.  I couldn't wait to get them up.  Unpacking them was a feat in itself, but after unpacking and assembling the first one, I thought I had it figured out and moved on to the next.  After a little struggle with the legs on that deer, I finally got it staked into the ground.  Everyting was coming together nicely.

As daylight dwindled, I called my hubby up from his project in the basement to help with coordinating all the extension cords, timer, and circuits.  Everything was fine until I went to clean up the boxes, scissors, and cable ties from the front yard.  While simply walking, just walking - with one foot in front of the other - I somehow mis-stepped and twisted my ankle outward so hard that I heard a crack and went tumbling to the ground.  My foot had turned under, spinning me around backwards and landing me flat on my back in the front yard.  Searing pain immediately coursed through my ankle.  My husband, having also heard the crack in my bone from his position on the front stoop, rushed to my side and I told him I thought my ankle was broken.  After he helped me up and got me to the sidewalk, I tried walking on it but quickly discovered that was not going to happen.  I had been hoping that it was just a bad sprain, but when I couldn't walk on it and a large egg started to appear where my ankle bone used to be, we knew a trip to the ER was imminent. 

The neighborhood kids had witnessed my graceful sprawl to the ground and ran to tell their parents.  Thanks goodness for great neighbors, who immediately offered to take our children and watch them and feed them dinner while my husband and I made our way to the ER.  At the hospital, the nurse asked if I broke my ankle putting up Christmas lights... apparently she sees enough of this sort of accident during the holiday season to assume.  I told her yes, though she thought I fell from a ladder or rooftop trying to put lights on the house.  I was almost embarrassed to say that I was already on the ground and walking on a relatively flat surface when I did this.  I should have told her I was sky-diving that day and had a rough landing or fell from a tree after trying to rescue a kitten.  At least then I would have sounded adventurous or heroic instead of just clumsy!  I was even more embarrassed when the nurse remembered me from crushing both wrists last year.  (Even more embarrassing!) Several hours later, I returned home with painkillers and a large plaster splint around my leg from my toes almost to my knee. 

This accident, unfortunately seems to be part of our family traditions with me.  Every autumn for the past four years, I have managed to land myself in the hospital for one thing or another.  I have even made two birthday parties more interesting with injuries.  For 36 years I managed to walk the earth with nary a broken bone.  I guess it was bound to catch up with me.  But given the last four years, even my children are suggesting I wear bubble wrap as part of my every day ensemble!  Last year I crushed both wrists at my oldest daughter's birthday party.  It had been one month after having my cancerous thyroid removed, I decided it was time for a little fun to lighten my mood.  So for the first time in my life, I donned a pair of roller skates at the skating rink during Jessica's 12th birthday party.  All went well until it was time to eat.  I managed to exit the rink gracefully and was feeling quite proud of my accomplishment.  But as I walked on my skates across the carpet to the party area, one wheeled foot got ahead of me, sending me into a backward fall.  Being that I had had two back surgeries for a ruptured disc and pinched nerves, my first thought as I started to go down was to protect my back.  So, I threw my arms down to break my fall and immediately regretted the decision when I heard and felt them break. Maybe I should start skipping the holidays - or autumn in general for that matter. 

This latest tradition of broken bones and surgeries I can live without.  But, even in these difficult times, I will be able to look back and remember how I was able to come through those tough times and still manage to celebrate the season and give thanks to all the things we do have - not just material things, but a happy family, healthy children, and good friends.  The difficult moments will be a speck on the map of our family's history and they also remind me that I have an inner strength that I forget about sometimes.  It goes with my belief that everything does happen for a reason.  Sometimes we have to live through the bad to appreciate the good... an example I hope I am setting for my children by mustering up enough effort to keep things as normal as possible.

Now, before I start the celebrating can I add bubble wrap to my Christmas gifts wish list?  Or maybe a large hazard sign to warn others  approaching me that I am a walking disaster! I think they should be the new mainstay in my wardrobe!

Black Friday

I was in the store the other day starting to do a little Christmas shopping and after waiting in a line of three people deep with carts full of items, I finally got to place my few things on the conveyor belt.  When I moved up toward the clerk at the check-out, she remarked it looked like I was doing some Christmas shopping.  I confirmed her guess and then she said something I did not need to hear. "Just 49 more days until Christmas!"

"Really?", I asked.  I thought, how does she know, did she count it down already?  Yes, in fact, she had!

Oh no!  That knot settled into my stomach.  The one that you get when you know you have a ton of things to do and very little time in which to do them.  My day was going wonderfully until the clerk said that.  She was chipper about it, too chipper in my opinion.  I, on the other hand, was not as amused. 49 days?!  Just 49 more days?  You mean in the next 49 days, besides working, doing my volunteer work, running kids to and fro, and my other daily activities, I have to shop for everyone on my list, wrap all those presents, bake cookies, host Thanksgiving for family, decorate the house, and oh - fit in a 13th birthday party for my oldest daughter.  As I started to hyperventilate, the wickedly cheery clerk handed me my receipt and told me to have a nice day.  Well not anymore, thank you!

Every year the holidays seem to sneak up on me.  One day it's summer and we are swimming and having campfires, the next it's Halloween.  I barely recover from that holiday and all of a sudden Christmas comes barreling toward me like a big freight train.

Don't get me wrong, I love Christmas.  It's the preparation for it I could do without.

Let's look at the shopping.  If I start too early by buying a few things here and there in the summer and accrue them until the big day, I forget where I stashed the presents to keep them from the snooping eyes of my three little spies.  Sad, but true.  If I start too late, then I face the busy stores, packed parking lots, long lines, and "Black Friday".  Now that's a day I will never understand.  It seems to be known nation-wide: "Black Friday", the day after Thanksgiving when department stores open early promising one-time-only, super-special bargains that people trample each other to get to.

Black Friday was an annual tradition when I was a kid.  Every year my mother would get up and go shopping on this unofficial holiday to get those sales. (She still does.)  So, when I grew up, I followed the tradition and did the same thing;  for awhile.  It used to be a little fun, kind of like a scavenger hunt or looking for buried treasure, finding those great deals. The fun would start by stalking people coming out of the stores to follow them to their parking space since all the lots were full, continue with snaking my way through the aisles and stealthily grabbing that last item on the shelf, pausing for brief nourishment breaks at the food courts, and ending when I collapsed on the couch at home with all my packages at days end. Of course, that was when I didn't have kids to take with me and before the insanity started in the retail world.
I don't know when it started or who started it, but all of a sudden, Black Friday took an ominous turn.  Stores didn't open at 8 a.m. anymore and offer their sale prices all day.  No, they moved it back to 6 a.m. And to make matters worse, they offered early-bird specials.  So if you wanted the great sale prices, you had to arrive at the store during a few precious hours or you'd miss out.  Six in the morning?!  I am not a morning person and now if I want to save 50% off that "Tickle Me Elmo" I have to trudge out of my cozy house, bed-headed and bleary-eyed  to get to the store at six?  No, it's even worse.  As I learned, if I wanted to actually get into the store when they first opened the doors, I had to arrive at least an hour early to stand in the line from the store that was already two blocks long.  Then, by the time I finally made it into the store, everything was gone, the shelves empty, like a pack of hyenas had just gutted the store and I was there to pick at the left-overs.  The next year, feeling wiser and more prepared, I showed up at one store to get in said line at oh-dark-thirty only to get into the store and then find myself being shoved and stepped-on at every turn.  Boxes were dropping on heads from high shelves, people were trampling each other to get to the electronics department, and I fleeing for safety, ran out of the store empty-handed, but feeling lucky to have made it out alive.  I don't know where everyone's Christmas spirit goes on Black Friday, but holly-jolly gets thrown overboard and it's every man, woman or child for themselves.

The following year, the stores made it easy on me.  They opened even earlier.  Now, there is only so far I will go to save a few dollars; and getting up in the wee hours of the morning to stand in the freezing cold temperatures to deal with rude mobs of people is where I draw the line.  When the first store decided that one year they were going to open at 6 a.m., their competition decided the next year that they would open at five.  And the year after that, other stores decided to get a jump on their competition by opening at four! 

Why? Why, oh why do they want us all there at the same time?  Why must we arrive at such an unholy hour to get a special price?  Why do I have to pay more for my items if I show up one minute past the early-bird time?  Did the items suddenly become more valuable?  Is it that they want to see how many people it actually takes to fill a Wal-Mart to capacity?  Is the government running some secret psychological tests on the effects that  overcrowding, hot stores, and long lines have on people's personalities?  I'll probably never know.  But I do know that I will no longer be a participant.  Now, while everyone else is out standing in line freezing their noses off waiting for the stores to open, I am tucked snug in my bed, happily sleeping.  While everyone else is waiting in long lines to purchase their goodies, I am on the internet buying mine... with the computer I nabbed at that last early-bird sale.

Trick or Treat!

A hobo, Raggedy Ann, Casper, and a two-headed monster; those were some of the costumes I wore as a kid to trick-or-treat in.  The two-headed monster I will never forget and don't recommend, not even to the best of friends and especially not to married couples!  What a disaster that would be:  one of the heads would definitely end up sleeping on the couch by the end of the evening.  My sister and I did the two-headed monster when I was in junior high and we fought all night about who wasn't keeping step, who stepped on whose toes, who was walking too fast, who was walking too slow; you get the picture.  And our mother!  What was she thinking - letting us attempt that in the first place?!  She deserved to hear every bit of bickering that went on between my sister and I that night.  Yeah!  It was her fault.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it!

Halloween is a favorite holiday among many kids from 1 to 92, mine included, second only to Christmas.  What is it about this holiday that gets kids, and even some grown-ups so excited?  Is it the candy?  I mean, you can buy candy at any store, any time of year, so what makes it so special on October 31st?  I guess part of the excitement of candy on the hallowed night is that you get it in such large quantities and it's all for you!  Well, what's left of it that is, after the parents rummage through it taking out what they deem "unsafe" for one reason or another: homemade treat, could be drugged; and we all know about the dangers of apples and razor blades, right?  And then there's the candy that's just unsafe, well, because let's face it, it's our favorite kind (yes, I am talking about us parents) and we couldn't possibly subject our children to the dangers of what might be lurking in that kind of candy so, oh look!  There's a tiny hole in the wrapper of that one.  And that one looks a little suspicious too - a bit smashed, they might have been tampered with; better take those out for safety reasons.  (Little do they know that we munch on these delightful tidbits later on whilst they slumber.  But, what's a few pieces out of a thousand, right? And what they don't know can't hurt them.  And we're thinking of their overall health.  Too much candy is not good for those growing bodies, not to mention their teeth.  Yeah, that will justify it.  Keep munching!)

Decorations have become much more elaborate for Halloween than they used to be.  I remember when I was a kid, we were lucky if we hung some paper decorations on the front door.  Now we walk by yards with fog machines, lawns of graveyards made with store-bought tombstones, black-lights, shrubbery covered in fake cobwebs, talking skeletons hanging from trees, and even DJs out on the street with karaoke for the kids to sing for their candy!  It used to be if you turned your porch light on, it meant you were open for business.  Now if you don't have at least one Mr. Skullybones somewhere on your front lawn, people pass on by.  Apparently, if you can't afford or bother to put a couple of tombstones out there, then your candy must not be worth the effort of walking all the way to the front door for!

Maybe what really makes Halloween so special is the costumes.  Though I will admit that there are a few teens that come to my door who don't  even  bother to put forth even a tiny bit of effort and just show up as themselves.  They hold out a pillowcase for candy, barely mumbling the words "trick-or-treat",  and expect me to reward them for this lack of imagination.  On the other hand, if I don't give them anything, I may find my house egged or toilet-papered the next morning, right?  But really, I should be the one toilet-papering them for not putting on a costume if they are going to have the nerve to go around asking the neighbors for free candy!  At least then they'd have costumes.  They would all look like mummies!

But really, I think it is the costumes; The chance to be anonymous;  The opportunity to be someone else for a day - a movie star, the president, or something fun, something that tells a little about the hidden side of you. My kids started thinking about what they wanted to be for Halloween this year the day after Halloween last year. They changed their minds about 200 times between then and now, but about two months before the big day, they had it narrowed down to one or two and that's what we went in search of.  Christopher was set on Venom, Spider-man's arch enemy.  It was looking grim for awhile whether or not we would find the outfit, but managed one at the 11th hour.  Sara chose a hippie-chick and I have to say the outfit suits her well.  She could almost pull it off as a new fashion trend.  It just fits her personality.  Jessica waffled a bit more, but finally decided on a witch... correction, as I have been told again and again - a graveyard fairy.  There are no fairy wings on the costume and I don't know of any fairies that typically hang out in graveyards, but then again, I don't really know any fairies, so call it what she wants.  They are all happy now and looking forward to the big night.   

I dress up every year, whether I am the one at home handing out the candy each time the door bell rings or the one walking the neighborhood with the kids as they go door-to-door.  Not only is it a bit of fun for me, but it shows the kids that no matter how old I am (so far) I still have a sense of humor and can have fun with them too.  Of course, sometimes my kids don't quite appreciate my sense of humor or costume style.  They all want to go for the glitz and glamour of the fancy costume shop outfits.  I, on the other hand, appreciate the thought behind the costume.  For example, one year in college I dressed all in green, made the letter "P" on my shirt with masking tape and used black eyeliner to give myself a big shiner and went as a - (have you guessed it yet) black-eyed pea!  Another year, right after my husband and I were married, we threw a Halloween party and the theme was a play on words.  I was "Holy Cow!".  I took a white sweat suit, cut out and glued on black spots all over it and wore a wing and halo set that I bought at the store.  Coming up with the idea is as much of the fun for me as wearing the outfit itself.  Sadly, this concept has gotten lost on my children.  When I suggest costume ideas like serial killer to them where they cut the fronts off of their cereal boxes and pin it to their clothes, carry a plastic ax and put on some scary face paint, they give me that look like the orderlies in movies do right before they are ready to put the patient into the straight jacket!  Alas!  I guess I will get to use all the good ideas on myself.

This year, I added some sarcasm into my costume.  My husband Brad appreciated my costume immensely.  We both laughed out loud, heartily, I might add, when we saw the children's expression at my outfit this year.  I decided to go as a referee.  The sarcasm was not lost on our children and though they tried to hide it, snickering was heard and mouths were covered to hide smiles.  They got the joke, even if it was on them.  I found the outfit quite appropriate as I have had to play that role during several tiffs recently between my children and the many neighborhood children that almost live at our house from time to time.  (The neighbor kids are over here so often that it really gets to be like a bit of sibling rivalry at times.)  I got the shirt, the hat, even the whistle.  Ah!  The whistle!  I reminded my kids of the movie "Kindergarten Cop" when Arnold Schwarzenegger gets the whistle out to get the class of unruly five-year-olds under control and my eyes gleemed as the whistle glistened in the afternoon light.  I even broke into my best Arnold impression.  That really had them laughing.   I told them I was already getting ideas of how this whistle might come in handy.  The power!  Think of it:  A lifeguard whistles and everyone stops and listens or gets out of the pool, a referee at a game whistles and everyone stops to listen to what he has to say.  Now I, Gianna, aka Mommy, have a whistle of my very own.  They shuddered at the thought.  I told them how I chose my costume this year based on what I have had to do so much of in recent weeks and I thought I would just go with it.  And now that I have the tools on hand, I might just pull them out and use them once in awhile. I wonder if it would be too much to learn and use the hand signals too?

'Tis the Season

It's that time of year again: the season of giving.  No, not Christmas. I speak of different gifts that others are sharing earlier this season than others it seems.  Unfortunately, this gift is one that no store will take back - with or without a receipt.  There are no refunds.  You can't even re-gift it.  No one wants it.  It will make any recipient recoil in horror and send them running for the nearest hand sanitizer and disinfectant to spray your way to repel you. It is one size fits all - a little invisible, creepy, crawly gift that I would much rather the giver keep for themselves.  It is the flu bug.  ♫'Tis the season for the flu bug, fa-la-la-la- blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.♫

It's amazing how generous others can be with this gift.  There are moments where I can not get anyone to give me a minute of their time, lend me an ear, or give me a hand, yet no one hesitates to pass on the flu.

As I shivered in bed the other night under the covers with my Nyquil and hot tea after receiving this lovely gift of the flu from an anonymous giver, I watched as an anchorman on the news reported that over 250 students at a local college were absent from classes due to the "swine flu".  Even pigs, apparently have gotten in on the gift giving; who would have thought?  And now, because those little farm dwellers have gotten in on the act and have mutated this germy gift into a particularly contagious version of "pass it on", the flu is now headline news. By then the Nyquil kicked in and sleep overcame me. I dreamt of little pigs in Santa hats delivering virulent, moldy green packages underneath Christmas trees and stealing cookies that had been left for Santa.  By morning, I switched to Dayquil. Delerious visions of crazed Santa-pigs would not help get me through my day. 

I decided that while I had this flu, I would do my best to keep this gift all to myself. Normally I am not so selfish, but in this case, I thought it would be appreciated.  I quarantined myself off, for the most part, in my bedroom.  When the kids wanted to kiss me goodbye, I told them to blow me kisses, and I "blew" them kisses back.  Homework help was done at as much a distance apart as possible, with my son reading what was on his worksheet to me since I could not see it from across the room and then me telling him what that problem meant so that he could solve it.  Binoculars aided in checking whether it was correct or not once completed. School photo order forms were slipped under the door for me to sign and the slipped back out again once completed to be placed in each child's backpack.  I was determined to keep this flu away from my family. 

Then it occured to me that even with all my extra precautions, I still send my children out the door each day to a world full of invisible, creepy, crawly things that live on the surfaces of every thing they touch and float in the very air they breathe.  They will come into contact with hundreds of kids between the school bus, their classes, and the cafeteria at school.  And all those kids are constantly, silently sending out little "gifts".  Some of those gifts my children will end up keeping, whether they want them or not, and some may turn into one form of bug or another.  But at least this time, I will know they didn't get it from me.

The Assignment

My son Christopher had an assignment his first day of school.  He got to make a "Me bag".  In the bag, he was to include five things that told something about who he was and what he liked.  My son was very excited about his assignment.  Though it was a Tuesday and the assignment was not due until Friday, he set to work right away, gathering things that he thought would tell his teacher and classmates a little bit about himself. 

The first thing he chose was the bag itself.  He picked a blue reusable grocery bag because he decided this week his favorite color was blue (for the other eight years of his life it has been orange and red, but hey, everyone is entitled to change their mind). 

He then commenced his search for the items to put in the bag.  First in were some matchbox cars.  These went into the bag to reflect his love of watching racing and playing with his cars.  Next in the bag: his plush golden retriever and maltese puppy dogs.  These dogs look just like his dogs in real-life and were the next best things to actually being able to take man's best friends to school.  He loves his dogs and wanted to show the class what they looked like more than just taking a photo.  His next choice for the "me bag" was a Pittsburgh Steelers keychain.  He shares his daddy's love of our 'hometown' football team and will watch the games with his dad (for as long as each one holds his interest), so the keychain represented that.  Last, but not least, he put in my rock collection because he likes to collect cool rocks for me.

I say "my rock collection" because these are rocks that my son started bringing me as soon as he was old enough to walk.  It was when we lived in Switzerland and would take walks along the Aare River that he became interested in rocks.  The rocks there had particularly beautiful patterns on them and he loved playing with them.  One day, he brought me a rock to keep.  Then, months later, he found another he liked and gave it to me to add to the first on my desk.  Awhile later, there was another, and before I knew it, I had a collection of rocks from all over the world.  Some kids bring their moms little flowers they pick from the yard; my son brings me rocks. It makes me smile when he comes home from a walk or from school and hands me a little rock.  I smile because that little gesture lets me know that at one point during the day, he picked up that rock and thought of me.  (One day I even found I had one in my coat pocket and it made me think of him and chuckle because I had a rock in my pocket, but I digress.)

So, his bag was all packed for school.  I suggested he take it to school the next day so it would be there for Friday and he wouldn't forget it, but he wanted to wait so everyone would be surprised.  All week long, the "me bag" sat by the door.  Each day I would ask him if he wanted to take it and each day he said he would wait.  Finally the big day came.  It was Friday, time to take the "me bag" to school!  I kissed him good-bye and told him not to forget his bag, then kissed his sister good-bye, and turned to hold on to the dogs to keep them from going outside.  The bus came and went and when I turned to go upstairs, what did my eyes spot sitting near the door where my son exited just moments earlier?  His "ME BAG"!  My last words to him after "I love you" were "don't forget your me bag".  How he managed to still leave it sitting there remains a mystery.  But, he did. 

So, there I am, standing in disbelief looking at this bag that was so thoughtfully put together with such excitement, faced with a decision.  Do I pick up my keys and get in the car and drive the bag to the school for my son or do I leave the bag sit in its spot on the floor to teach my son to be more responsible and that there are consequences to his actions?  With an audible sigh, I took the keys off the hook by the door, picked up the bag, and... and put it back down again and placed the keys back on the hook.  Why?

The very fact that that bag was left sitting, forgotten, at the door, even though I reminded my son to take it with him just moments before he left for school that day reflected a part of who he is.  It was actually a part of the "me bag"! 

Christopher can go on a mission from one room to another and forget what the mission was halfway there and not be seen again for hours unless we send out a search party. Remember that attention span I spoke of in my intro of our family - the one of the gnat?  There it is.  Bless his little heart.  So, I had to let that part of him show that day, regardless of the consequences, so that he would learn from his mistake.

It was a tough decision, not bailing him out, and the "me bag" guilted me a bit sitting there all day, so I tossed a blanket over it.  (Out of sight, out of mind did help with the guilt.) 

When my son got home that day, I asked him how school went and what his teacher said when he didn't have his "me bag".  Turns out the teacher was OK with it.  She said to just bring it on Monday since other kids could talk about theirs that day.  (OK, so teacher didn't help with the responsibility lesson.)  So, I told Christopher that he wouldn't always be so lucky and he would have to be more responsible and learn to remember things and focus better.  I asked him how we might be able to do this.  He said maybe he could write notes.  I told him that was a great idea.  So, we have some post-it notes that he is going to use to write on and stick on his bedroom door to remember important things.  He is also going to try to stay more focused on one task at a time and not get distracted by other things.  It will take time, but it will come to him. 

Monday came and he remembered to take his "me bag" to school.  He got to tell the class about all the items in his bag along with why he chose the bag itself.  And getting to chat about the items in his bag is also a big part of who he is.

The Chatterbox

My oldest daughter takes after her father.  She likes to talk... A LOT.  In the right social setting, this can be a gift; one I often wish I was blessed with.  But in other places, left unchecked, it can be inappropriate.  One of those places is in the classroom at school. 

During her fifth grade year, my daughter's motor mouth landed her in the sights of her teacher's radar early on in the school year and from then on, she was constantly targeted for talking in class.  Every day, her clip was being moved out of the "green zone" on the behavioral stop light and into the "yellow" for her constant chatting.  If it made it to "red", it was principal time and eventually went on to her permanent record to follow her wherever she went.  She never made it that far because I decided it was time to intervene. 

Jessica's father and I had talked with our daughter and told her there were appropriate times to talk at school, such as lunch, recess, etc.  We had previously grounded her for getting in trouble for talking, only to have her do it again a few days later.  Our daughter explained at one point that other kids were talking when she was and they didn't get in trouble, but we told her that the point is, they should not have been talking either and that just because others were doing something, doesn't make it OK for her to do it. (Insert your best "if your friends jumped off a cliff would you do it" here.)  And besides that, she had made a target of herself early on and now she had to deal with the consequences of that. 

The problem went on until one day I told my daughter that if she got into trouble for talking one more time, I was going to go to school with her and babysit her in class since she didn't seem to be able to handle it on her own.  I told her I may or may not go dressed in my pajamas, depending on my mood that day.  I told her I would sit in her classroom, follow her to lunch, etc. until talking was a problem no more. 

Now, my children know me.  They know when I say something, I follow through; so even if there was an inkling of doubt in my daughter's mind, it must have been enough to keep her on the quiet path for awhile because she did quite well for about two weeks.  But then it happened one Friday.  She just couldn't hold it in any longer.  All that chatter that she had been holding inside of her for the last two weeks just couldn't be held in anymore and came bursting out of her like lava from a volcano.  Her clip made it into the "yellow zone" once more and it was the moment of truth.  She begged and pleaded for me to give her one more chance.  I explained I gave her plenty of chances already and that I didn't know of any other way to make this clear to her: that when she talks during class, it interrupts learning and is disrespectful to the teacher.  I informed her that come Monday morning, mother and daughter would attend school together.  She was quite upset and asked if I would be wearing my pajamas.  (This, apparently, was an even bigger concern than me being at school - what I would be wearing.  Oh the embarrassment!)  I told her I would see how tired I felt on Monday, whether or not I felt like getting dressed or just throwing on my robe and slippers.  I called her teacher and informed her of my plan and the arrangements were made.

What a long weekend that must have been for her! The agony and worry that she must have suffered that weekend alone was probably worse than the punishment itself! 

Monday arrived, the big day.  I decided to minimize her embarrassment (and the distraction my pj's would cause in the classroom) and get casually dressed.  I sat in the back of the room close to my daughter's desk and watched over her all day. I went to lunch with my daughter and chatted with her and her friends during lunch.  My daughter, oddly enough, was very quiet during this time.  Then back to class we went where I finished sitting watch over my little chatterbox. (I also observed the teacher and noticed that there was a good bit of disorganization, especially during transitional times, in which there were a lot of children talking. If this were more organized, chatting and moving about the room could be cut down in general.  She was a younger, inexperienced teacher and did not have a good command of her classroom.  I brought that point to the principal later, who said she was aware of that and was having a mentor teacher work with her.)

It was a looong day for both of us, but an important one.  My daughter learned that I dared and cared enough to follow through on my word. And I learned why she talked in class when she talked, though I was not excusing her for it.  I had spent a day in her shoes and had seen what the classroom dynamics were. 

When the day was over, I asked her if I needed to go to school with her the next day or if she thought she could handle things on her own from now on.  She insisted she could contain her chatter and no longer needed me to watch over her at school.  I told her I would give her a chance to prove herself then, but if I had to go back, it would be every day for a week and this time I would wear my robe and slippers and might not comb my hair. 

But, she was right.  From that day on (two years now - I should give her some kind of pin), she remained in the "green zone", apparently so mortified that I might show up in her classroom again one day that she kept her chatter to herself until it was the right time to socialize.