Do Your Children Truly Get Veteran's Day? Do You?

“Veterans Day: A celebration to honor America’s veterans for their patriotism, love of country, and willingness to serve and sacrifice for the common good.”

Happy Veteran’s Day! Or perhaps, Thankful For Our Veteran’s Day! However you want to say it, the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month has been a significant day in United States history since 1918, which marked the armistice ending the fighting in “the war to end all wars”, World War I. November 11, 1919 was the first Armistice Day, and in the words of President Woodrow Wilson, ”To us in America, the reflections of Armistice Day will be filled with solemn pride in the heroism of those who died in the country’s service and with gratitude for the victory, both because of the thing from which it has freed us and because of the opportunity it has given America to show her sympathy with peace and justice in the councils of the nations…”

Over the course of our history, after other treacherous wars were fought by so many service men and women to preserve and enhance our free nation, this day became known as Veteran’s Day. Legislation was passed on June 1, 1954 to make November 11th a day to honor American veterans of all wars, then on October 8th of that same year President Dwight D. Eisenhower issued the first Veteran’s Day proclamation which stated, “In order to insure proper and widespread observance of this anniversary, all veterans, all veterans’ organizations, and the entire citizenry will wish to join hands in the common purpose.” He then designated the offices and personnel that would coordinate and organize proper observance on a national level.

On June 28, 1968 the Uniform Holiday Bill was passed, and it was designed to ensure three day weekends for federal employees for four national holidays, Veteran’s Day being one of those. It was thought that these long weekends would encourage travel and spending, therefor boosting the nation’s economy. However, some states did not agree, and thus continued to celebrate those four holidays on their originally appointed date. So in 1978 it was decided that the observance of Veteran’s Day would be restored to November 11, preserving it’s historical significance, and reiterating it’s important purpose- to honor American veteran’s for their patriotism, love of country, and willingness to serve and sacrifice for the common good.

Today’s history lesson is brought to you by me, to serve as a reminder to all of how this holiday began, what it means, and why we should be honoring all men and women who have served and are currently serving our great nation. You see, whether our veterans served in battle, trained military personnel, or served in other capacities to enhance our military and provide for our country, they all signed up to serve and protect, no matter the cost. They were willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for their country, our country. In these trying times in the United States of America, during times of such division and turmoil, it is so important to remember that we as a nation have fought long and hard to enjoy the freedoms we enjoy. And it’s even more important to honor those who have volunteered to be on the front lines standing up for this country we love, and for the ideals we as a christian based nation were founded on.

So let me ask. Do your children truly understand the meaning and historical significance of Veteran’s Day? Can anyone explain to me why our children devote so much time to learning about a historical figure such as Martin Luther King but spend no time honoring our veterans? They actually have Martin Luther King Day off of school, but not President’s Day, or Veteran’s Day. Am I the only one who has an issue with that? Not that I want them to be off school another day, but how is it decided which federal holidays and which historical figures deserve observance with suspending learning entirely after a month long celebration and education, and which ones are briefly mentioned in passing? The original concept for Veteran’s Day was a day of parades and public meetings, and a brief suspension of business at 11:00am. In 1926 Congress passed a concurrent resolution with these words (just a partial clip) “…inviting the people of the United States to observe the day in schools and churches, or other suitable places, with appropriate ceremonies of friendly relations with all other peoples.” Maybe I’m way off base here, but I just feel Veteran’s Day is of significant importance to the entire foundation of our nation, and should be honored as such.

Last year Bella’s school did a wonderful program honoring veteran’s in general, and encouraging the student’s pride in their families’ veterans. The kids gathered the names, branches, and ranks of family members who had served or are currently serving and were introduced with them, if possible, and some of the parent veteran’s stood up and spoke to the children about their service. It was a wonderful tribute. This year they eliminated the program all together. They did have the students turn in the names of veterans and active military personnel in their families so they could honor them on a wall dedicated to Veteran’s Day. But I suppose an hour of the “common core curriculum” learning time just couldn’t be afforded. After all, how will these 5-10 year old children ever be ready for the rigorous academics of the universities if they give up their math and reading time for such minutia as honoring fellow humans who have paved the way for their futures?

On that note, let me close with a heartfelt thank you to my husband, my grandfather, my cousin, and my other family members and friends who have shown their love of country and willingness to sacrifice by serving in the military of the United States of America!

Do Your Children Truly Get Veteran's Day? Do You?

Be Kind. That Is All

Ever have one of those moments where a life lesson your mom taught you from early on jumps right in your face to remind you of it’s importance? Yep, that’s what happened this morning. I was reminded that you never know what people have going on, and that their “transgression” against you (real or perceived) may have a huge story behind it that you don’t even know. I was reminded to be kind and smile, because that may be just what someone needs to brighten their day. Or at least to not make their day even more difficult.

So a friend’s (maybe acquaintance’s) little girl’s heart was broken by the way an adult spoke to her (which is enough to make even the calmest of us go all momma bear on someone), she talked to her parents, and the mom had a bit of a meltdown telling me the story, and explaining to me some of what is going on in their family right now. Looking at this family from the outside you would have no idea they have anything going on at all. They are always put together, very social, always on time, and just really nice and easy going people. They never have a complaint, and their children are so well behaved and so well mannered. Though recently I’ve seen just a few little hints that there may be an excess of stress, but only tiny, seemingly unimportant signs.

So all morning at home I’ve been distracted thinking about this family, the mom who is carrying so much weight on her shoulders, and her sweet little girl whose tiny (and I mean minute!) innocent “mistake” has her feeling so bad, and her already stressed parents feeling more frustration. I’ve been so distracted in fact that I overcooked my hubby’s breakfast and I started a hundred things and have yet to finish one. I’ve been wishing I could see this sweet little girl and tell her it’s ok. I want to tell her I’m sorry her feelings were hurt, and I’m sorry that grown ups sometimes get a little carried away and say things they shouldn’t to kids. While I am not the one that hurt her, I want to be a grown up that shows her she deserves kindness and respect.

As my husband and I finished our walk (which is where we encountered this mom friend) I just kept replaying our conversation in my head, and it just stuck out in my mind that this is such an obvious example of how important it is to just be kind, to listen, and to not judge because you just don’t know what’s going on behind closed doors. When I heard the story, it made the little mistakes and forgotten things that were already so minor completely excusable. But what bothered me, what stuck out in my mind, is how quick we are to judge and get angry over little things that would be ok if we knew the story. But why do we need the story? What makes it our business (other than if they want to share to ask for help or just need someone to listen)? Why do we sometimes only have compassion when there is bad stuff, then we have pity and we excuse all?  I was reminded this morning to think before I speak, and to realize that I just might make a difference in someone’s day just by what I say.

Be Kind. That Is All

Adoption IS an Option

Did you know that in 2012, in the United States alone, 995,867 abortions were performed? That is nearly 1 million babies killed! Is that number alarming and overwhelming to anyone else but me? Does it hurt your heart like it does mine to hear such a startlingly high number? Perhaps I’m naive, or maybe even ignorant, but I had no idea that so many abortions happened here in our own back yard every year!

Infertility seems almost like an epidemic in our country, and so many couples are turning to adoption as the way to bring love, joy, and completion to their families. So I wonder, when a woman goes to a clinic for an abortion, how educated is she on her options? Does she truly realize the seriousness of what she is about to do? Does she realize she has another option? One that will take sacrifice on her part, for sure, but that will spare her child’s life, and even give it the full and abundant life it deserves?

I realize that there are exceptions to every rule. I understand people have their “justification” for their abortion, and I understand that adoption is not an easy choice, and it doesn’t always turn out perfect. I do get that. But overall adoption is a very loving alternative to abortion, and I would love to see more education and awareness about it.

I write about my own personal adoption experience in hopes of helping others realize how fulfilling and amazing adoption can be. But going forward I will be finding other ways to try to give a voice to those poor babies who are aborted instead of given the chance to fulfill their life’s destiny. I will try to be a voice for couples whom God has called to adopt the child He created for them through another birthmother. And I will be a supportive and educational voice to birthmothers facing the hardest choices they have ever made.

One small way I will get started is by spreading the word about a small adoption business, adoption.net, which inspired me to write this post, and which has become my motivation and my call to action. Adoption.net is (according to their website) passionate about changing the world through adoption, and they are working to spread the word about a third option that covers both pro life and pro choice options- adoption. Intuit is running a contest for a small business to win a superbowl commercial, and adoption.net has made it to the second round. Please help me spread the word about such an amazing cause by taking just a second of your time (literally) to vote for them to be recognized on one of the largest national commercial stages possible. The link is https://www.smallbusinessbiggame.com/CA/AdoptionNET/385565. Thank you so much!

Adoption IS an Option

Is Fertility an Issue For Those Who Choose Not to Parent?

My brother and sister in law have decided they will not have children. Period. They adore their nieces and nephews, and dote on the neighbors kids. But when it comes to raising their own, that is just not in their plans. And that’s ok. I may not understand not wanting to parent (and I know they would be fabulous parents!), but I certainly respect and possibly even admire their honesty and their consideration. Parenting is not for everyone! In fact, perhaps more people should decide parenting is not the best choice for their personal life. But I can’t help but wonder…

If people who decided they did not want to bring kids into their life knew they absolutely could not biologically have children, if they could never physically know the feeling of being a part of creating a new life, would they still not want to. Would they be joyous? Would they see it as an answer to their prayers? As an affirmation that they’ve made the right choice? Or would they experience the feeling of failure, of loss, that so many couples facing fertility issues feel?

As a woman who struggled for many years with trying to conceive, I know that I always felt my body was failing me, like it was letting me down. I would tell myself all the right things- that God had other plans for me (which he obviously did! Even better plans than I could have imagined!), and that it wasn’t the right time. But deep down I still beat myself up. I thought I did something wrong. I thought I didn’t deserve to know the love a mother feels for her children.

So I have to wonder if couples who choose to remain childless would still know that they didn’t want to bring children into the world anyway, or would they wonder what might have been? Would the man feel less of a man because he could not give his wife a child if she had wanted that? Would a woman feel like her body was broken, even though she never intended for it to carry a child?

If people are being brutally honest, these are the things they feel when they want to grow their family and it does not happen easily, or traditionally. But I just wonder if they feel that way when they are not intending to grow their family. These are the things I ponder!

Is Fertility an Issue For Those Who Choose Not to Parent?

When Doing the "Right Thing" is Completely Wrong

Epic Mom fail this morning! I sent my daughter to school in tears. Why? I wouldn’t let her wake up her dad to say good morning because then we would be running late. Seriously? I can’t let her say a quick good morning to Daddy before school because I can’t let her be a couple minutes late? Really not even late, necessarily, just skating in between the first and second bells.

And what makes this even worse? Let me just tell on myself even further. This is such an epic mom fail because my husband had been out of town for the last ten days and got home long after she was in bed asleep last night. She missed him and couldn’t wait to see him and give him “lots of hugs and kisses”, and I insist on doing the “right thing” and leaving right on time for school instead of allowing her those couple extra minutes to say hi. Talk about feeling bad all day. And to top it off, on the way to school I had to mention she didn’t put on any jewelry, which just made the tears fall faster and harder. Poor little girl was off to a rough start on a Monday morning. Oh, but I did the “right thing” by being right on time for school. Oh please!

So after tattling on myself and putting my big failure out there for the world, please let me offer up my defense. So what happened is….Bella got up with her alarm (yes, she’s a big girl at 7 now and likes to wake up by herself) and came down and sat, no snuggled, on the couch. I came out of my room, offered up sweet good mornings and told her we couldn’t lay around, that she needed to get her bed made and get dressed while I got her breakfast. After some grumbling about not wanting to go to school and just wanting to stay home and play with Tater and see Daddy, she trudged her way upstairs to begin getting ready, or so I thought. Remembering it was PE day at school I went upstairs to remind her to wear shorts and a t shirt as opposed to some fancy, cutesy outfit since she would be outside in the heat of the day. When I open her door guess who is picking out an outfit…for her Build A Bear. Yep! Still not doing what she needs to get done (although to her credit, she had made her bed). So I gently reminded her that if she did not get dressed and get her hair brushed quickly she may not have time for breakfast before school, and really the only person she was hurting was herself, because I could come home and eat whatever I wanted (ok, a little unnecessary jab, perhaps, but she needed a reality check). And would I really let her go without breakfast? Of course not! But still.

I’ll spare you the rest of the details of the morning and get right to the point. She was dawdling, I was getting frustrated, it was 5 minutes after we normally leave the house, and she wants to wake up Daddy still. I was trying to make a point of doing what’s right and not being late, and because of her choice to dawdle the morning away, something had to give. The problem with my point was that it hurt her. She didn’t miss out on having the hair do she wanted, or having to settle for a less than desired breakfast or outfit. She didn’t miss out on stopping for a treat before school. No, she missed out on seeing her daddy, whom she was really missing and just wanted to say good morning to. This is the problem with being a mom, a woman, who stands firm on principle. Sometimes, this time, the “right thing”, the principle, was completely and utterly the wrong thing!

When Doing the "Right Thing" is Completely Wrong

A Letter to the Teacher

To my daughter’s teacher,

When I dropped my child off to you this morning you asked if there was anything else you should know about her, any special instructions or information that may be useful or necessary for you to successfully take her in your care for the day. I said no because I didn’t want to take your time and attention away from your students so deserving of your undivided attention, and I am confident it won’t take long for you to discover just how special my little girl is all on your own.  But in all actuality, my answer to you wasn’t completely honest. You see my precious baby does not have any “special” needs, no food allergies or physical or mental limitations. She does not have any social or emotional needs that require special attention, so I guess technically no, there isn’t “anything else” outside of our contact info and her going home info that is absolutely necessary for you to know immediately.

Really though, yes, this little beauty does come with her own set of special instructions. You see, she is not just another 7 year old smiling face all decked out in her brand new Justice outfit (fully accessorized, I might add) and shiny new shoes, with her carefully chosen backpack and lunchbox. No, she is MY precious 7 year old who is growing up too fast, who acts brave and tough, but who has a beautiful sweet heart. She is my little miraculous gift from God, and by leaving her in your care, I am inviting you into her life; therefor I have some special instructions that I need you to follow in order to help me fulfill my promises I made to my angel, and to God when He entrusted her to me.

Please be tough, but tender. Be firm and strong in your rules, but please be loving and kind.

Keep your expectations of her high, but please be forgiving of her mistakes, and celebrate her achievements whole-heartedly.

Please, I beg you, be a great example for her, be a positive role model. Because she is looking to you for guidance, and she puts all her trust in you. Whatever you do, please protect her love and respect for teachers.

Teach her to work hard, but to have fun too.

Foster her creativity, and nurture her inquisitive mind. She is a big thinker with big dreams and so much going on in that sweet little head. Please appreciate her individuality, and love her for all her spunk and silliness.

Please encourage and uplift her. By all means, teach her to accept and appreciate constructive criticism, but never compromise her sense of self-worth.

Encourage her to own her mistakes and make them right (whether it be with her friends or her school work), and to treat others as she would like them to treat her.

Always be honest! Please, please be honest. Honesty builds trust, and trust is the true foundation of strong relationships.

Thank you for taking the time to read my special instructions for my unique, free-spirited little girl. I know that she is going to grow and thrive in your class, and I sure hope you enjoy and appreciate all the sass and spirit and fun she will bring to your second grade class. Have a wonderful school year!

 

 

A Letter to the Teacher

They're Going to be Parents!!

Yesterday I saw that a couple I’ve been following on Facebook found out they’ve been matched with a birthmother and will soon be parents. Chills came over me, and the memories and emotions came flooding back…

You gave her life, and you are trusting me to teach her to live it. You grew this precious little being inside of you as you were wracked with fear, doubt, and uncertainty. I have searched for her my whole life. I know this has not been an easy road for you, and I can only imagine the pain you will continue to feel. I hope I can bring you an inkling of comfort, and a lifetime of peace with my story; and, more importantly, with the promises I make to you, and to this perfect innocent child.

You cannot believe the thrill I feel, the way my heart is beating out of my chest, the way I feel all warm inside, and the love and pride that is radiating from me and out to that sweet baby. You see you have instantly given me a beautiful new identity. One that most women have nine months to grow into (literally!); but one that was literally overnight for me! And one that seemed out of reach for me. As you know, motherhood was not a nine-month journey of carrying my baby in my womb; nourishing her and adjusting to having her depend on me for life. No, I instead faced years of disappointment month after month after month each time I realized that my body had failed me once again, that I had not been able to conceive a child. I had a failed pregnancy that was a tragic loss of my child and of my dreams.  I faced a nine-month journey of paperwork and background checks and letters and scrapbooks for potential birthmothers. I faced a seemingly endless wait for a miraculous young woman to find me and believe in me, to believe that I can be a great mom! That I have so much love to give. That I can be trusted to raise this little girl to be a beautiful soul, to love beyond measure, to be smart and assertive, and sweet and gentle.

Yesterday when I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw a fragile, sometimes self-loathing, hard-working, loving daughter, sister, aunt, and wife. No, my appearance hasn’t changed. Well, not really. I mean, yes, my hair is stringy and my eyes are dark and sunk in from exhaustion, but overall my small framed, blond haired, hazel-eyed self looks about the same. But I see someone totally different. Today I see a beautiful, glowing, happy (though slightly terrified) Mommy looking back at me! I see a confident woman who is overflowing with love for her beautiful new daughter. Wow! I said it. My daughter! I see a woman filled with gratitude and admiration for a woman who is so strong that she can place her trust in another woman to do the job that she is just not physically or mentally able to do right now.

So I promise you I will be the best mom I can be for her! I know, I know, that sounds so simple. But I know it’s not. I know it’s the most important job I will ever have, and not one that I take lightly. I promise you I will love her unconditionally. I will build her up. I will encourage her. I will have high expectations of her, and always believe in her.  I will teach her faith, love, honesty, courage, and kindness.

And these are a few of my promises to her. I will always do my best to live my life as an example for her of God’s expectations of His children. I will always consider how my thoughts, decisions, and actions impact her, and what lesson they are teaching her.  I will raise her in a loving home surrounded by family.  I will only invite people into her life who will support her and uplift her. I will keep her near the beach so she grows up appreciating the beauty of God’s creation. I will teach her to work hard, but to have lots of fun. I will teach her to love fully and unashamedly. I will teach her to face her fears, and to not be held back by them.

I want you to know that I am forever grateful to you for your enormous act of strength, and that you will always be in my thoughts and in my heart.  I have lived my entire life for this dream that you have made my reality, for this new name, Mom, which I will wear with pride. I will never take this gift, this precious baby girl for granted. I hope that you find comfort and peace in that promise.

 

They're Going to be Parents!!

Tell Me I'm Not the Only One!

I think it’s happening…I think we’re becoming those people. Those everyday ordinary regular people who are just busy. All the time, busy. I guess that’s what happens when you work, have 3 kids, an adoption, an appointment with the tax man…and in case things weren’t crazy enough we added a puppy to that mix! I’m looking for a little “down time” and instead we added another little one that needs lots of care and attention. We have lost our minds. I just know it! Well at least our new addition is sweet and cute, and kind of irresistible.

How Mommy Feels!!

Really, down time is not necessarily what I need anyway. I mean, I do have time to sit here and write (not that I can really always concentrate, but…) and I do get to take my kids to do various fun things, and we sleep in, or try to anyway.  And my husband is happy to do super hero training with the kids on the weekend while I shop or go walk along the Causeway. So yeah, I know. Your level of sympathy for me has just plummeted. Hit rock bottom in fact. But that’s ok. Sympathy isn’t really what I need. I mean I really have nothing to complain about. Not really. It’s just that I’m tired, and I miss my husband, and I think a little peace and quiet for just a few moments sounds heavenly. Have you been there, done that?

In trying to figure out why I’m so tired, I have concluded that the noise of bickering children is loud and stressful. Very stressful! And when we go from one child who only plays make believe games by herself so minimal arguing occurs, to three children who compete to be the best, fastest, smartest, silliest, cutest, whatever-est, the stressful sounds escalate, and the stress level increases three fold. Now my children are not necessarily always fighting. Not with each other in real life anyway. But if they aren’t battling it out as three normal siblings, they’re competing as super heroes, or sci-fi creatures, or video game crusaders, all of whom must battle. Loud. I mean really loud. And that can be enough to push this mom over the edge.

So as the saying “if you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen” goes, I can’t take the noise so I get out of the house. We get out of the house. And then my children magically transform into conversationalists (sometimes!). We talk, they tell me stories, and we typically all get along. Seriously, I can take them most anywhere and they’re so easy to manage. They usually get along well, and they will listen well. And they’re typically polite and respectful. So why am I so stressed when we’re home? Because they are vying for my/ our attention (since Mark is often working, and I’m often trying to write). Hello, Blondie! That one just hit me. Of course they’re the best kids ever when it’s all about them. Of course they love when Mark plays outside with them, or I take them to the park then 7-11 for Slurpees. Of course they like swimming, bowling, and going to the movies with us. And they even love sitting together as a family to watch Cupcake Wars, or a movie. This is because it’s all about kids. And it usually is, until at least 10:00 every night. Thus the reason I say I miss my husband!

We work so hard to make summer special and fun for the kids, and why wouldn’t we? Summer vacation is supposed to be playtime. It’s supposed to be fun and silly and whimsical. And since our family time with all five of us is limited we really try to maximize and make the most of it. And for the most part I love it! We all love it! But I sure do have my moments of missing grown up time with my hubby, of craving a date night, of wanting to have an uninterrupted, un-listened to by little ears conversation. Hmm… I wonder if the kids sometimes crave the structure of going to school each day. Do they miss their early bedtimes and required daily study time? Do they miss playtime with friends at school, without their parents knowing every single thing they do? Maybe, just maybe they do!

Tell Me I'm Not the Only One!

Fabulous 40!

Forty is FABULOUS! It truly is. A few months back I was feeling a little down about hitting the big 4-0, a natural feeling it seems. It’s not that 40 seemed so old, necessarily, or that I didn’t want to hit 40, because Lord knows that’s much better than the alternative of not making it. It’s just that 40 sounds so grown up and mature. 40 didn’t really sound like me, it didn’t quite seem to fit me. Not that I’m immature (though I have been known to whine and even possibly pout on occasion, and I giggle when my husband says a “dirty” word), I just don’t want to be “settled” and “content”, and I’m not ready to sit back and let life just happen. So naturally the thought of turning forty was a little frightening.

Since 40 was going to come, I had decided I wanted to live it up. I wanted to make it fun! I wanted an adult night out with friends and family. I wanted to go to a comedy club, or cosmic bowling. Something a 30- something mom just doesn’t get too many opportunities to do. I guess I wanted to party like I was turning 21 (since that coming of age was not a big party at all!) Anyway, that’s what I thought I wanted.

Lucky for me my husband listens to me, knows me so well, and is very in tune to me. Because he planned a birthday for me like none other, filled with all the things I love most (mostly my family!). He and my daughter put their heads (and thoughtful ideas) together and decided I deserved 40 all about me surprises for my big 4-0. And all three kids and my dear sweet hubby came up with all the things they thought I would love. Fabulous!!

Forty days before “the” big day my husband presented me with a beautiful ceramic flip flop jewelry box hand painted by none other than the man himself. So personal and made with love. Perfection! Another day he presented me with a delicious box of chocolates and just announced “number 39!” Hmm..okay.

The eve of my departure from a decade of much, much change and growth in my life into a new frontier brought a buzz of excitement in our house. Mark was driving the boys down from North Carolina to spend the summer with us, and everyone had lots to do to make the next day a success. Well, everyone but me that is. I just had to sit and wait and wonder. And ponder what 40 is all about. I had lots of time to think about how I really felt about turning 40. And you know what I realized? I was pretty keyed up about it.

My 40th birthday did bring tons of love and fun surprises, and an adventure too! I was pampered (think new hair do, mani/ pedi, sweet tea, breakfast hosted by my sweet hubby and kids with my parents included, jewelry, shopping, movies) and surprised (my car windows were tinted for me, I got a star named after me, we had family photos with my parents once again included, a lovely surprise dinner and family party at home after). I get to do something I’ve never done before- sky surfing! And I enjoyed my surprise family day more than I could have ever liked  a comedy club or cosmic bowling. What was I thinking! But the other thing this decade change brought me was realization.

I realize that 40 is fabulous because I am content and settled. That doesn’t mean I’m boring or old. It doesn’t mean I have to sit back and let life pass me by. I don’t even have to start wearing  tent dresses or mom jeans! It does mean that I’m just me, and there’s no one I’d rather be. It means 40 is just the next number after 39. It is not a number that changes my identity. It is not an age that transforms me over night. I’m still just a young (at heart anyway) mom wearing my slightly ripped up jeans and flip flops with a fitted tee, and being the best mom I know how to be. I’m still a woman pursuing a dream of writing. I’m still a wife who adores my husband and giggles like a school girl at his jokes.  I’m still a friend who enjoys some girl time. I’m still just me. A little older, a little wiser, a lot more confident, and a lot more comfortable with who I am. Happy 40th to me!

*My 40th was back in June, but for some reason this post kept me stumped. I knew I wanted to write it, the words just weren’t coming out right. Could it be because we’ve barely been home since then? Or that I have three crazy kids keeping things hectic around the house? Anyway…better late than never! 

 

Fabulous 40!

Who Knew?!

My kids teach me new things every day. Some lessons are harder than others. And some are just cute and funny. Take today’s lesson…a peach pit can be a friend and play mate.  Yep, that’s what they’ve taught me today.

After lunch the two younger kids asked me to clean off their peach pits really good for them, so I obliged, intrigued by what they would do with them. Well as of right now they are pulling them around the house on a “leash” in the hamster ball giving them the grand tour of the house. Creativity at it’s best. And the best part- the kids are getting along. Like really getting along. Not competing, not having to be the best or smartest, not having to have the “best” peach pit. They’re just being cute and innocent and playing together. Oh how that melts this mom’s heart! Oh and the other part of that I love is that it doesn’t involve super heroes, star trek, violence, or battles. Just 2 sweet kids, 2 clean peach pits, and 2 vivid imaginations syncing together. Sweet!

Oh wait, I hear whining from the oldest. Back to reality. Huge *sigh*. It was wonderful while it lasted!

Who Knew?!

Relaxing is for Sissies

So our summer got off to a super fun start visiting family in Ormond Beach. We played, we laughed, we visited, and we ate…a lot! The first full week of summer vacation was an easy week that somehow went by super fast. It was just a week of doing what we want when we want. A week of sleeping in, relaxing, and just enjoying the break from the school routine. Then Mark left on Thursday night and drove the boys home on Friday, and the fun craziness began.

Friday night the kids got in late, so they all played and we visited a little before bedtime. The next morning was my 40th birthday, and my family had a full day of fun and surprises planned, (that’s a whole separate blog in itself) and I don’t think we slowed down since. Or not much anyway.

We’ve been to the movies, we’ve been to the beach, we’ve been to the pool, we’ve played with friends, we’ve gotten Build A Bears, we’ve eaten out, and the kids are going to church camp…and it’s only Wednesday! Keep ‘em busy, that’s what we say. Somehow the slow summer with not much planned has become a fast paced whirlwind of family, friends, travels, and fun. And I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

But this mom is one tired girl! Is it bad that by 3:00 (and that’s on a good day) I’m already looking forward to bedtime for the kids so I can snuggle up on the couch with my hubby and relax and unwind before the craziness begins again the next morning?

Relaxing is for Sissies

Marriage Bootcamp

I was awakened at 3am today by the loud crash of something falling somewhere in the house. Ok, it probably wasn’t so loud since it was a tiny cup and toothbrush falling to the bathroom floor, but in my deep sleep it may as well have been the roof caving in. Anyway, the adrenaline rush woke me completely and instead of sleep visiting me again I was kept awake by hunger. Like stomach rumbling hunger. And a peanut butter and honey sandwich was just what I needed. So I gave in to the hunger and craving, got up and made my sandwich, and turned on the TV.

I have a slight addiction to family, wedding, baby, and house hunting reality shows so I found a show called “Marriage Bootcamp” and I snuggled in with my blanket, sandwich, and glass of milk to feed my addiction. The show featured four or five couples who are struggling in their marriage, and who agreed to attend this boot camp and give it 100% to try and save their marriage. The couples all shared a house for the duration of the boot camp, and they all were critiqued by the shows directors and therapists on their openness, their emotion, and their commitment to their spouse and to the program.

When I turned on the show the couples were meeting with a divorce attorney to discuss terms and details, as though they were actually going through it. The couple that I saw talking with the attorney were so cold and bitter and angry, and they had apparently had discussions about divorce details prior to this meeting. I think the point of this exercise was for couples to face the reality of the process and to hopefully give them a deeper appreciation for the life they have. After that, the couples were asked to write an honest, heartfelt letter to their spouse, to turn it in, and to go back to the house.

Later on the couples were taking a few minutes to get to know each other when they were called, one by one, to their next exercise. The exercise that brought me to tears. The exercise that I know would make me break down and cling to my husband for dear life. The exercise that has to make any couple who has any chance at a lasting marriage realize the love they have for their spouse. The funeral.

Yes, I did say the funeral, of one spouse. They literally had one partner climb in a casket, they had a portrait of that person, and it looked exactly like a real funeral. The other spouse was brought in to see their husband or wife lying in a coffin, eyes closed, hands folded, and a somber gathering of “loved ones” mourning the loss. The surviving spouse had to read their letter, in past tense,  out loud, then they touched their partner in the coffin on the forehead and that person could then respond.

I couldn’t help it, I broke down. It freaked me out to think of climbing into a coffin, it made me ill to think of seeing my precious husband lying there as though he were dead, and it broke my heart for these couples who need this extreme , awful task to realize how precious life is, and how blessed they are in their lives. Sadly two of the couples didn’t even “get” the point of the exercise at all. One wife (the one I previously mentioned who was so bitter when speaking with the divorce attorney) refused to participate at all, and one husband mocked his wife saying, “why are you crying? I’m not dead you know.” Seriously? On the other hand, one wife stood up in that coffin, jumped into her husbands arms, and sobbed her heart out as she clung to him.   Obviously after watching this I went back to bed, snuggled in close to my husband, and thanked God for this man, this family, this life He has blessed me with.

 

 

Marriage Bootcamp

I Just Wanna Be Me!

Since I’ve started blogging and working on my book in earnest I’ve been researching a lot of different writing styles and blogs, and here’s what I’ve found. In the quest to be “different” or have an element that sets them apart from others, blog mom’s are going way out on a limb and getting extreme. Shocked? I didn’t think so. And yeah, I get it. They want to find something that interests people, that makes them want to read their stuff. And I do too. I write a lot about adoption, which is something that not everyone relates to, but that those who do are passionate about. So yes, I really do get it.

The part I struggle with is the blogs and websites that are dedicated to making those of us “normal” moms feel less than perfect. Less than adequate even at times. Where is the mom who just lives? Who thinks about working out and exercising a whole lot more than she actually does. Who tries to feed her family balanced meals, but who still serves meat and potatoes and canned veggies (and even MickeyDs sometimes!) for dinner and lunch meat or PB&J for lunch. Who makes sure her kids get some physical activity every day, and who monitors the electronics, but wants to let the kids just be kids too. I’m looking for the mom who will attempt to do a craft or two occasionally, but who doesn’t have to reign Pinterest project queen supreme. The mom who  enjoys baking, but Nestle Tollhouse chocolate chip cookies made with the recipe on the bag are the cookie of choice. Oh, and this mom uses real, regular sugar and butter and brown sugar. And guess what? She’s not obese, she’s not lazy, she’s not unhealthy, or an unfit mom. She’s just a wife and a mom living her best life.

The other style I’ve taken a bit of a disliking to are the “real” women who go on and on about their love for booze. “I don’t go to play dates unless wine is served.” Or the ones who display their potty mouth with pride for all the world to read, with their “I don’t care what you think of me” attitude, that means I really do care, but since I don’t think I’m good enough I’ll run with my imperfections. Or the doom and gloom, life is so rough but I’m just getting by and that’s the best you can expect of me. No way! Life can be tough, but please have higher expectations of me than just being, than just getting by. Because I know I deserve better, my family deserves better, and I can do more!

Let me reiterate, I do somewhat get it. I really do. Some of these sites have a huge following, me being one of those followers, because I like some of the stuff I see. And I do relate sometimes to the things they’re saying. And sometimes they are just entertaining. But for me, I think I’ll just try to be the middle of the road and be myself. Which may or may not get me readers. It may or may not spark interest. But it will definitely help me say what I think, what I feel, and what I want to share. I know many of my friends and family can and will relate to my family daily life antics. And hopefully all will see that a divorced, newly remarried adoptive mom to one and step mom to two who shares her stories can just live a normal life like regular people (I think what I’m trying to say here is despite where we’ve been in life, we’re all just regular people). Hopefully I will help those who have been through trials (umm…that’s absolutely everyone!), no matter how big or small, see that you will survive, you can come out on top, and you can just live and be you!

I Just Wanna Be Me!

Summer Fun... Home School?!

First grade has not even officially wrapped up and already my daughter wants to zip through second grade. Over the summer. With me teaching her. Wow! What’s a not-so-organized, perfectionist mom who doesn’t really do strict scheduling do? Figure it out! If the kid wants to learn and excel, then that’s what we’ll do!

We as a family began working on a summer “bucket list”, if you will, with our ideas and wants for the summer, and our big calendars to plug in the approved items. (It will not be possible to do all the suggested items as the kids want to move-not happening-, and they all want to go to different theme parks. I think we have 4 on our list. Can you say way expensive?!) Anyway, we all gave some suggestions, such as bowling, the beach, make ice cream sundaes, and a water balloon fight, just to name a few; but Bella wants to do home school. And she’s very serious. And adamant. And as a mom, I couldn’t be happier. Sort of.

You see, this is one of those projects that sounds great, and could be fairly simple. Except that it’s Bella’s idea. And she doesn’t do small or simple. Nope. Bella’s ideas are grandiose, and creative, and typically out of my realm of imagination and capability (not to mention way outside of budget!). So we’re working on a compromise. I’m picturing setting aside a little time each day to work our way through an appropriate level workbook that challenges her, and making sure we’re doing daily reading. If I get super creative we may even try a craft or two! If, maybe! She, on the other hand, is picturing setting up our entire house as a big classroom with a gigantic word wall, a separate gathering carpet for “every day counts”, and enough sharpies, markers, white boards, folders, notebooks, etc. to make any elementary school teacher drool.

Fortunately for me, other family adults get to participate in this summer home school fun., so I won’t be going it alone. Mawmaw will be the music teacher, and Papa will be arts and crafts. Daddy will be the PE teacher, and I get the rest. We shall see how this summer unfolds, and I just know I will have plenty of pictures and anecdotal stories to share! If you have any suggestions, ideas, or coping mechanisms I welcome them!

Summer Fun... Home School?!

Artsy, Craftsy Fun...Who Me?!

Woohoo! This non-artsy, craftsy mom has spent the last day and a half doing projects with/ for my daughter and her class and I’ve loved it! Yesterday and today we were working on t-shirts painted with a seascape in her classroom. The Room Mom and I painted the stampers the kids chose, then they placed them where they wanted on their shirts. After the kids part was done, us moms worked our artistic “magic”(and for those that know me, you know I have virtually none!) with puffy paint and glitter paint. We bedazzled those beautiful t-shirts and gave them a little more personality to match their owners. We were so proud, and the kids love them! Unfortunately I did not take pictures, so I’ll have to get some when the kids wear them on the last day of school and show off my artistic ability.

Last night was a creative craft night as well, as Bella and I were coming up with a gift idea (yes, I’m totally a procrastinator too!) for one of her teachers whom she would see for the last time this year today. I was telling her she needed to hand write a nice thank you note, and she wanted to buy school supplies to help her teacher out. We put our ideas together and decided to write a big note on a poster board thanking the teacher and telling her how wonderful she is…with school supplies! We wrote things like “Coming to your class is the highlight of my week” and inserted highlighters in place of the word. And we came up with “you’re a cut above the rest” and inserted scissors. I have to say Bella was so creative with the poster and made it totally hers. My perfectionist self wanted to do it all for her, of course, and make it neat and perfect (not that I could); but I resisted and just let it be hers. And an amazing thing happened. It was imperfectly perfect, Bella was thrilled with the outcome, and her teacher loved it and her creativity!

I am so proud of myself for relaxing and enjoying these projects with Bella and her friends, for being able to accept the imperfectness of each, and for appreciating the beauteous work of art that each one is. I make no promises for future projects, but for this time it felt good to see the big picture and recognize that part of the joy and beauty of the project is the excitement of the doing. I realized that I was much more concerned about the perfect placement of the little fish on the t-shirts than the first graders were. And I wanted Bella’s poster card to have beautiful straight hand-writing, but her teacher appreciated that it was her own. I have a long way to go before I can be considered an artsy craftsy mom, and an even longer way before the perfectionism lets go, but I’m taking baby steps, and I’m good with that.

Artsy, Craftsy Fun...Who Me?!

Remember It's MEMORIAL DAY!

What is Memorial Day really all about? Sure we enjoy a nice long weekend cooking out, playing in the water, and celebrating the start of our summer. And hopefully most of us stop for at least a moment to think about what Memorial Day means. But do we really know?

Memorial Day, previously called Decoration Day, originated after the American Civil War to commemorate the fallen Union soldiers. By the 20th century Memorial Day had been extended to honor all American soldiers who have died in all wars. Memorial Day is a day to remember fellow Americans who have lost their lives serving our country in the United States Armed Forces.

Over the years, the long holiday weekend has come to signify the beginning of summer, family gatherings, fireworks, trips to the beach, and of course, the Indianapolis 500. We should all enjoy the American traditions, and enjoy our family time; but we should also teach our children what this important day means to us. Please be sure to take a moment to just think of those who lost their lives fighting for the freedoms that we live to enjoy every day. Flags should be flown at half staff until noon in honor of those who gave their lives in service to our country. At noon the flag is raised to signify the memory of those lost being raised by the living who resolve to not let their sacrifice be in vain, but to continue to fight for liberty and justice.

Remember It's MEMORIAL DAY!

Adoptive Parenting- Some Serious Soul Searching

Adoption is eye opening! You have to look deep inside yourself and really think about your values and beliefs. You look at your partner’s morals and values in relation to your own, because you are making a lifetime commitment to God, and to a precious little baby. You have to think about what religious beliefs you want to instill in them and how you will provide for them. What will you do for fun, and what are your expectations? Who will care for the child should something happen to you? Will one of you be a stay at home parent? What is your financial situation? Is your home safe for a baby? While these questions are probably also considered by biological parents, too, they are not required to submit their answers for judgement and determination of parenting eligibility.

If that’s not enough, you must also consider the birth family situation, and what your feelings, opinions, and ideals are. Are you particular about the baby’s race? Do you hope the baby resembles you? Does it matter to you if the birth mother is nearby or faraway? Do you want her to be involved in your child’s life? Or do you just want to send the occasional photo?

These are just a few of the soul-searching, heart-wrenching questions potential adoptive parents must not only think about, but must provide the answers to. Then, based on your answers an agency, the state, an attorney, and/or a birth mother decides if you qualify to be a parent. They decide if you have enough money to provide, enough love to give. Let me tell you, if you are strong enough, brave enough, to jump through the hoops, to search the depths of your soul, and to give all you have to this process that might make you a parent, then you surely have enough passion, enough heart to be a parent.

 

 

Adoptive Parenting- Some Serious Soul Searching

We Are Worriers!

I was making a special Mom and Daughter Mother’s Day breakfast for my mom and sister and our girls yesterday, so I was up and at ‘em early. Bella seemed slightly disappointed that was up before her because she apparently had a plan to make a 3D pop-up book for me before I awoke. She asked me if the Mother’s Day fairy had come for me. “Not that there is one, I guess” she sulked. “Nope, no Mother’s Day fairy”, I confirmed, “but I have you to make me a mother, and that’s the best thing I could wish for”. I reminded her of the figurines the boys had painted for me, and the book and card she had made for me (all of which I received early, so there wasn’t anything waiting that morning, which was apparently important to her, and not at all to me), and how we were going to spend the whole day together. Then I reminded her of the special breakfast we were going to make, and we got down to business. We were back on track and Mother’s Day was going great!

Breakfast was a success, and our girls shopping day was a fun adventure (as it always is). We began a Mother’s Day shopping tradition a few years back, when my sister and I were both single moms without partners to help our kids give us the Mother’s Day they wanted, and without a lot of extra money to eat out and buy gifts, etc. So we decided it would be fun to just go out and spend quality time together, and maybe even buy ourselves a little something that we would not normally treat ourselves to. For the record, we are all actually the type of “shopper” who can window shop and have a great time! We may be gone for hours and come back with one item, but you can bet it’s an item that we fell in love with and found to be a great value too! We walk and talk and laugh as we discover our new favorite color for the season, or a new designer we’ve just taken a liking to. And this year was no exception. We walked for hours, found our special items we would not normally allow ourselves the luxury of purchasing, and just enjoyed our time together. Bella entertained us with her ability to make any outfit beautiful just by accessorizing (Think little girl in designer stores putting on hats and jewelry, carrying the handbags. Yep, that’s my girl!) and Courtney made sure we didn’t get lost with the guidance of her always handy iphone apps. Grandma made sure the girls had ice cream and a little something to make sure they knew they are special too. So yes, the day was a success!

As an added bonus, my family enjoyed a fun-filled dinner with my sister and her kids to finish off the day. We ate, we laughed (my nephew was the main source of comedic entertainment there), and we just enjoyed a relaxing evening. As I sat thinking about the great weekend I’d had enjoying a date with my hubby Friday night, spending Saturday at the beach with my husband and my daughter, then enjoying a special Mom and daughter day Sunday with all the girls in the family, I was totally content.

Until this morning, when Bella came downstairs and gave me her flower that Mawmaw had given her yesterday morning. When I asked her why, she said she wanted me to have it because I’m so special, and the best Mommy ever. I told her it was her flower and she didn’t have to give it to me to let me know she loves me. I already know that! And it dawned on me at that moment, as I remembered her asking about the Mother’s Day fairy, that my child truly is my child. She didn’t feel like she did “enough” for me for Mother’s Day. She wanted me to have so much more. She wanted to make sure I had a perfect day. I made sure to thank her, and reassure her how perfect my Mother’s Day had been, and we went about our morning. She seemed happy with that, and she moved on. I, however, did not.

I have felt sad all day thinking, first of all, that my daughter does not feel that what she did was good enough for me, and second that I have passed this perfectionism on to her. I know exactly how she’s feeling because I do, and have been doing, the exact same thing. Did I do enough for my mom? Does she know how much I love her and appreciate her? Maybe I could have done___ better, or maybe I should have done ____. The blanks will always be there, because no matter what I did do, I wonder if I should have done more. I do that for birthdays, Christmas, every holiday, and even just regular days. Did I do the best? Did I do it (whatever “it” is) just perfect?

I have all this worry going on in my brain (yeah, I tend to do that to myself too!), and I can’t wait for school to end so I can pick her up and show her just how much just being her mom is the best gift I could ask for. How spending time with her and Daddy, and cooking for the girls, and shopping, and going to the beach, and just sharing all this with her is my idea of perfection.  And how hand-made, personally written gifts are the best kind I know of! I know when I see her she will be bouncing out of school excited to tell me something that happened at lunch or PE (because she rarely shares what she actually learned that day), and the world will be right. My girl will be happy and at peace, so I can be too. She probably really was just giving me the flower because she wanted to. She can be pretty sweet like that!

We Are Worriers!

What Being a Mom Means to Me

I was the best six-year old mommy any baby doll could ask for! And why wouldn’t I be? I had the world’s greatest mom for an example; and a stepmom that was tops too! And I had awesome grandmas that must’ve been great moms. So yeah, I knew what it took to be a good mom to my Baby Beth and to my Honey Doll.  Yep, they were diapered and fed, they were taken for walks, and they never went without proper clothes and shoes (much to my wonderful mom’s frustration since my shoes just wouldn’t stay on those tiny doll feet). And I just knew that when I grew up I would be the best mom to twin girls. Oh yeah, I had it all figured out!

You can imagine, then, my surprise and disappointment as an adult when just becoming a mom did not come easily. My sisters were moms, my friends were becoming moms, and then there was me. Where were my twin girls? Heck, where was my one precious child, for that matter? And why didn’t I deserve to be a mom? I had lots of exceptional role models who would gladly become helpers if needed. And I had tons of love to give, so when is my baby coming?!

In February 2006, after an absolutely priceless week in New York with my mom, my life changed suddenly. I underwent a magical transformation. I became a new me! The “me” I knew I was meant to be. The most perfect baby girl found me, and I became her mom. Yes, I was a MOM! Unbelievable! That little girl looked at me with her big blue-gray eyes and stole my heart right out of my chest. And suddenly I realized I had never truly known what being a mom meant, until that moment. I didn’t understand what drove my mom to be the very best mom, until then.

Of course being a mom means so many things. It means caring for and nurturing your children. It means living your life as a teacher, as a good example. It means making mistakes, saying your sorry, and picking up and moving forward. It means being open to the lessons your kids have to teach you, even if that lesson is patience at their most precocious moments. Motherhood means providing for your children, ensuring their health and safety. It means sleepless nights because of diaper changes and feedings, then monsters and bad dreams, and then finally just worry. But mostly, to me, being a mom means a big piece of my heart is held outside my body, and in the palm of my little girl’s hand.  It means we have a sacred bond unique from all others that cannot be severed. It means God has entrusted one of his angels to me, and I am so blessed and privileged to have her.

In July of 2012 I was so blessed to gain another mom role. I am so privileged to get be stepmom to two wonderful boys, and I hope I can do this as well as my stepmom has done. While the tasks involved with stepmom-ing are a little different, the main root of mothering is still there, and it is still love. Each of those boys has their own unique place in my heart that worries and cares, that fills up with love and swells with pride.

God made me a mom, my children teach me how to do it every day, and my mom and stepmom laid a great foundation and built a beautiful path for me to follow.  I always knew I would be a mom, I just didn’t realize what a tremendous job, what amazing blessings that title would bring with it.

What Being a Mom Means to Me

Does a Mom of a Terrorist Go To the Funeral?

Or a dad, for that matter? Listening to the radio in the car this morning, I heard the DJs discussing the brothers who terrorized Boston; and they were playing and discussing an interview with the uncle who had just recently found out his nephews were the bombers, and that one had been killed. The DJs noted how genuinely shocked and saddened the uncle sounded, so the conversation became about how family members of terrorists react and what their feelings must be. Following this train of thought, the discussion quickly turned to funerals for these monsters, and do their parents attend.

Well, my first thought was that I had never thought of that before! Do “bad guys” who end up dying have funerals? Then I thought, well, if they do, it has to be their family who makes the arrangements, so yes, I’m sure they attend. One of the DJs was adamant that if this were his child (and I do not know if he is a parent or not) he would absolutely not attend their funeral. The other DJ was completely indecisive (not sure if she’s a parent either). As I half listened to their banter about why they felt the way they did, I, of course, began to ponder my own thoughts and feelings on the matter.

As a parent to any person who commits heinous crimes towards other human beings I can only imagine the hurt and anger you would feel! I know that if it were my child, I would take it so personally, as though I did something wrong that made them turn out this way. I would question how such much anger and bitterness overcame their soul that they could consciously and willfully hurt and terrorize innocent victims. I imagine I would be so emotionally torn, because of course you have all the animosity and outrage that comes from such an act, but you’re also still a mom or dad. What makes a parent not love their child?

I have to think I would hold a small, private service of some type for my own purposes, for closure, for a final goodbye. While I could not commemorate their beautiful life and the fact that they are now at peace, I could mourn the loss of a piece of my heart. Because while the world is celebrating the death of a monster, the mom has to be mourning the death of an innocent child she once knew.

What are your thoughts on this one? Can you still love a family member who is capable of such abominable acts? Do you still need a ceremonious goodbye? I was intrigued that the male DJ said he would not attend, and the female was unsure. Anything to that? Dads? Moms?

Does a Mom of a Terrorist Go To the Funeral?

You, Bad Guy, Are Way Outnumbered!

I will start by saying, as so many have before me, that my heart and my prayers go out to the victims of the bombings at the Boston Marathon yesterday. This tragedy that has personally struck many, is another that strikes our whole great nation. It was here at home, at an amazing, exciting, perfectly innocent event, and it shook us all and took us by surprise.

That awful attack, however, did not defeat us. It will not be our decline. You see vicious, terrible bad guy, we are strong people. And we are good people. Sometimes we seem divided through politics, and fears, and different beliefs; but at the heart we are not so different. We are not divided. We love, we care, we protect, and we are one.

You, bad guy, promoter of all things evil, may knock us down. You may scare us and hurt us, but you will not destroy us. Did you see people running away from this ugliness you caused? I didn’t. I saw brave people, strong people running towards the tragedy. Running to aid their fellow Americans, fellow human beings. I saw first responders running in to help victims, then coming back for others, because this is what they do. I saw runners finishing a long 26.2 mile race only to keep running to hospitals nearby to give blood to help their running comrades, their fellow human beings. I saw brave, kind people opening up their homes to strangers that need a place to stay while tending to family members injured.

Of course we mourn the loss of the precious ones you did get to, and we pray for healing for those injured, and we pray for the families whose lives will never be the same. We recognize the sadness and hurt you caused. But in the face of such tragedy we must, in the words of Mr. Rogers,  ”look for the helpers”, because there are always helpers. There are always those that put their own fears aside. They are willing to risk their own well being because someone needs them. Someone can not help themselves, and we, as humans, as Americans, love each other, and will ban together and do this together.

You, bad guy, are way outnumbered here. American alone is a country of more than 315 million people, and this earth has more than 7 billion human beings, the majority of which are good people with good hearts.  You are so insignificant, so miniscule. And you are not big enough to destroy us. In fact, your mean, bullying tactics will serve to make us stronger.  We as individuals are small, but we can impact our small communities, which will in turn impact our cities, states, and our nation.

I will be sad for the victims of your act of terror, and for their families. My heart hurts for the running community who has tragically lost a few of their own. I do not underestimate the healing and prayers it will take to move forward in a different life after loss. But I will and I do encourage my family, my friends, and my community to look for the helpers. To be the good in the world. Be the helpers. Maybe we cannot be in Boston helping these victims, but we can be the good to others facing trials and tragedy near us. We can be strong and join together to fight the bad guys and get through it all with good and love in our hearts. We will use your lessons, you vicious bad guy, to reinforce in ourselves and in our children the gifts of kindness, compassion, and love.

You, Bad Guy, Are Way Outnumbered!

Guest Post- Roller Coaster

One of my blogs was published as a guest post on United for Adoptions today. Check it out! 

Guest Post- Roller Coaster

It’s 2:12 a.m., I’m awake, and I’m not happy about it. And what’s worse is I’m not happy with myself for being not happy about being awake. What?! Yes, I awoke at 1:47 a.m. to my husband whispering loudly (because he was freaked out by our daughter sneaking in so quietly so as not to scare us), “What?! Bella, what’s wrong? What are you doing up?” So I wake up to find a little girl peering over me silently, which totally freaked me out! “I’m scared” she says, “Can I just sleep down here?”

Many parents would just say to climb on in bed with them, but we have a full size bed not conducive to family co-sleeping. Yes, that is done on purpose. My husband and I like sleeping close and alone. We neither want, nor need the wide-open field of space between us that the “luxury” of a king size bed provides. Our children have beautiful, comfortable rooms decorated to their liking designed specifically for their sleeping needs, and we believe that’s where they need to be. But that could be a whole other post about all of that. I just know that would be a common reaction to my dilemma. Just let her sleep with you, and everyone could get back to sweet dreamland and all would be right with the world. Except that with my little tumbler in the bed, somebody, or really the two people who actually belong in the bed, would be kicked and hit at just the moment slumber may find us again, or we would be so hot from the body heat, that peaceful rest would not find us.  Yes even my mom, who has had Bella sleep over many a night, and who always believed it was harmless to just let her climb in, has learned that if you let her sleep “with you”, you will end up on the couch, and the purpose of the co-sleeping is completely defeated. Not to mention that the child has never been good at falling asleep when anyone is in the room with her, so you all end up being awake forever talking, because she doesn’t stop. Her brain never stops!

The other reason that just letting my scared little munchkin into our bed is not the best choice is that this is a fairly common problem we are trying to figure out how to get a handle on.  Tonight the issue was because we started a movie for the kids that my husband swears she has watched before, and it got “too scary” for her. Since I was in the middle of rolling her hair for her big cheer competition tomorrow (yes, a huge reason she really needs a good night of sleep) she and I moved our operation up to her bedroom and she watched a funny movie on her Nook to take her mind off of the other.  So I finished her hair, she finished the movie, and we got her all settled into bed. At that point she was already working herself up to having a bad night because she was afraid that she would be afraid from that scary part in the movie. She was so scared that she would have bad dreams that she was afraid to go to sleep. So we said our prayers, I turned on her dream light, and promised to check on her in a bit. I kept my promise, as I always do, and checked on her around midnight when we went to bed, and she was sleeping peacefully. Until 1:47 a.m.

The thing is, this happens so often. She’s afraid to go to sleep because she’s afraid she’ll have bad dreams. She’s afraid of the nighttime, she’s afraid of being alone. When this happened just a few nights ago she asked me why we have to have night. Why it can’t be light all the time so the world would be less scary. Her dreams are scary, and very real to her, so I can understand her being afraid of having one. She used to be (until about 2 or 3 months ago) afraid of cheetahs, and alligators. She was sure they would climb into her upstairs bedroom window and eat her while she’s sleeping, because she had a dream about that. I’m not sharing any of these things to ridicule my sweet, innocent child, I just don’t understand. And believe me she tries to help me understand. Tonight she told me she was having a “blank dream” and she woke up because she was afraid it would turn into a bad dream about the scary movie. Why? Why can’t it turn into a funny dream about the funny movie?! “Because that’s how my brain processes things, Mommy. I’m just a kid, and that’s just how my brain does it.”

“Can’t you just shut your brain off?!” I want to scream, because I’m frustrated. “Why do you have to process it at all? It’s just a dumb movie you didn’t even watch 15 minutes of, and you watched an hour and a half of something funny after it, so process that!” I’m thinking. And believe me, I was biting my tongue practically til it bled, because I was so annoyed with now being wide awake (obviously, since it’s 2:58 a.m. and I’m up writing my little heart out), and neither of us will be well rested for tomorrow, and once again I’m just a big fat failure of a mom because I just don’t know what to do to make this better, and to help her feel safe. And then I’m even angrier with myself for getting upset, because I know it’s not her fault. I know she’s just afraid and doesn’t know what else to do. And that’s my job, to help her. I feel so bad for her, I hate that she’s scared, and I hate even more that I don’t know how to solve the problem. I can comfort her by speaking softly and sweetly, by stroking her hair and rubbing her beautiful face, but that doesn’t make the big problem better. That’s the biggest issue here…I suck as Bella’s mom because I’m not equipped to handle this brain of hers. Or I sometimes don’t feel like I am. I know God sees it otherwise, because He entrusted her to me, and He trusts me to raise her. And Lord knows I’m trying my hardest. But when my best isn’t good enough, what’s a mom to do? Bella knows I’m frustrated, as much as I try to be patient. I don’t want her to feel like she can’t get me up when she needs me, but I want her to learn that’s she’s ok, too. Nothing terrible has ever happened to her, Daddy and I are right here in the same house, with our door open. If you call out to us we can hear you easily. It’s our job to listen and be aware. Daddy is a great protector, and will not let anything happen. And cheetahs and alligators are not breaking in the window at 2 a.m. I have taught the poor child to say prayers to God to take away these scary thoughts; she has a dream catcher and a dream light (which was a life saver for a little while). Tonight my brilliant idea, or so I thought, was for her to imagine that she built a robot (because that is her dream) that is packing those scary thoughts and bad dreams in a box and pushing them way to the back of her brain. Then the robot will bring forward the box of happy, funny thoughts and memories and will start unpacking those and showing them to her. Of course tonight the girl who could go to “Bella World” and go to the mall and hotel there and marry Obi Wan Kenobi there in the middle of the night decided to be all practical on me, and said with a giggle “Mom, I’m pretty sure there’s no robot that could really do that, but it was a good thought.” Ugh! Mommy’s trying here sweet girl!

It’s 3:27 a.m., and thankfully she, along with the rest of the house, is sound asleep once again. I have vented my frustration, I have prayed over my baby, as well as the rest of my family, and I have thanked God for this sweet miracle He entrusted to me. I have thanked Him for making my best good enough for her, and for picking up the slack where I just can’t be enough.  And now I think it’s time for this tired mommy to have a bowl of cereal to quiet my rumbling tummy and get back to dream land for just a few precious hours of zzzzs.

My munchkin had library day at school today, and what book does she bring home? “The Audubon Society Field Guide to North American Seashore Creatures”. Yep, that’s my girl! Who would this little Kentucky girl be if I hadn’t introduced her to the beauty that is the ocean, the beach? She had her toes in the sand at just a few weeks old. I had to start her off right! And I love that, at only 7 years old, my sweet girl prefers to read non-fiction to learn about things she loves. I think she’s already smarter than me! Shh…don’t tell her that though. It will go straight to her pretty little head!

 

Yoga Pants...Not Just For the Gym Anymore

True confessions time, ladies! Do you wear your yoga pants everywhere? Have you ever had a day of just wanting the comfort of the workout wear without the discomfort of the workout? Or perhaps you just leave them on after your morning at the gym? I admit it, I’m guilty! I have totally, shamelessly been guilty of this discretion. I wear yoga pants when I’m not doing yoga! Mostly I am guilty of leaving them on after a morning fitness walk and workout, knowing the only places I’m going that day are to pick my daughter up at school, and to take her to tumbling or Cheerleading…at the gym. Um, I’m just going to the gym again, so why get all dressed up, right? Right, sometimes!

Yes, I said sometimes! The thing we have to be very careful of is getting too comfortable in the yoga pants and forgetting that certain situations call for certain outfits. For example, just recently my daughter had an inauguration celebration in her classroom at school, and all the kids were expected to dress up (girls in dresses, boys in shirt and tie) for their formal luncheon and ball. They were allowed to bring one guest (parent) who was also asked to dress formal, as were the volunteers who would act as dignitaries, servers, and assistants. The kids were all so excited, and so proud of their fancy clothes; and the parents made sure to participate and share in their enthusiasm for this extraordinary event. All but one, that is. I will give this mother due credit for arranging child care for her toddler and for showing up for her son. But that is as far as I’ll go. This mother showed up on the red carpet for a formal luncheon in yes, yoga pants! Seriously? Oh and her yoga pants were accompanied by untied running shoes, a t shirt, and a baseball cap! She did not even attempt to “dress up” her yoga pants at all! Being the Pollyanna I tend to be, I have tried to come up with every possible explanation to excuse this seeming lack of good judgement, but I just can’t. I thought maybe she’s a fitness instructor, but there are restrooms everywhere, including the school, where she can change. Maybe she just came from her workout and was running a little behind. Nope, not good enough. This was a one time event you need to plan a little better for. The only explanation would be that she does not own one single outfit that is not workout gear. That’s it! That must be what happened. Because I cannot imagine a mother showing such disregard for her child, and such a lack of respect for the teacher that she would just ignore the required dress code without a very plausible reason. Yoga pants are not always ok!

Ladies, we know we work hard, we play hard, and we parent to the fullest. Our husbands should just appreciate all that we do for our families, and not worry about what we’re wearing while doing it, right? Um, maybe sometimes. Just don’t wear out the yoga pants welcome. Sure, they can really look great on you…when you’re going to work out. And I bet your husband thinks you’re super sexy in your workout gear, going to take good care of your body! But does he want to see the yoga pants all the time? And what message are you sending about your self and the value you place in you if you aren’t even worth the time it takes to get dressed. I remember a time when I became an office manager in a medical facility. The dress code for my position was business attire or scrubs. I knew the managers in the other offices opted for scrubs since they were quick and easy and required no thought, and minimal time. I personally felt that wearing scrubs every morning gave the appearance of laziness, and I didn’t feel much like a manager. If I woke up in the morning, threw my hair in a ponytail and put on scrubs, I felt like I didn’t value myself, my position or my employer. I felt as though I would be taken less seriously than if I wore business wear. So I chose to get up early enough (4:45am in this case since I worked an hour away and had to be there by 6:45) to ensure I had time to shower, style my hair, apply my makeup, and dress for success. And when I walked into my office I believed I commanded much more respect from my employees and patients than if I had come in all scrubby. Well, the same holds true for our yoga pants days. Yes, of course they’re ok for some days. I admitted I love my yoga pants, I love the comfort they offer, the ease of dressing, and I even kind of like the way they look on me. But I also love the way I feel when I change from my workout wear and put on something that shows my style, that makes me walk tall and feel proud.

Yoga Pants...Not Just For the Gym Anymore

I Am a Perfectionist, I Am Not Perfect

In the spirit of true honesty, I’m going to confess. Hi, my name is Andrea, and I am a perfectionist. No, I do not believe by any stretch of the imagination that I am perfect. And I do not judge others who do not strive for perfectionism the way I do (well, not too much). I mostly am critical only of myself, perceiving anything less than perfect as a failure. I do tend to be a little hard on my child, well children really, as well. My daughter gets more of the brunt of it as she is with me all the time, but my stepsons have been privy to my nagging when their behavior is not quite what I had in mind for the three little darlings. It’s not that I criticize any of them for their “shortcomings”. I mean, what kind of perfect parent would do that? I understand they are children and are learning, and I like to think I am encouraging and uplifting. Is it wrong to encourage them to give it their all, to be the best they can possibly be? Is it so bad to expect impeccable manners and respect for their elders? And I am certainly happy to dole out the praise and compliments for a job well done.

Boy did I get a wake up call this weekend, though. Lord, help my sweet little girl, as my perfectionist ways are rubbing off on her; and I’m not sure I’m equipped or qualified to prevent it. Report cards came home last Friday afternoon, and I reviewed Bella’s while she was playing with friends. Much to my surprise, hers was slightly less than perfect (and you have no idea how hard it is for me to even admit that, because then that must mean I’m not a perfect parent! Yeah, I have issues!).  Then I was even more surprised, and angry with myself, for being disappointed that the child had a couple “very goods” mixed in with her “excellents”. Really Andrea?!  A “V” in music is just not going to hold her back from going to college, and a “V” in conduct does not mean she is the worst behaved, most disrespectful being that ever graced that first grade classroom (ok, so I’m a little dramatic too). Get a grip lady! So I conceded that the progress report was in fact phenomenal and that I had much to be proud of, but I wanted to hear her take on it. So in the car the next morning when I casually mentioned that I had gotten her report card, she, of course, asked how she did. I remained mostly neutral, if not positive, and just stated the facts. Instantly my poor child was in tears, so disappointed in herself for not being perfect! While a little piece of my heart smiled at her need to do better, the rest of it just shattered in a million pieces.

I believe being a perfectionist may not be a bad thing completely, as I know Bella will always give it her best, and will likely succeed at all she does. The problem is, I know from my own personal experience she will also miss out on so much in life for fear of failure, or something less than perfect. And this is what I strive to change. This is why I confess to my shortcomings, so I can let go and help her be her best, accepting that her best may not always perfection, and that’s ok.

In my younger days I was a competitive gymnast. Some days I thought I was good, but most days I just didn’t believe I had talent. My family would tell you a different story, and probably my capabilities would too. I wanted to be so good, in fact I wanted to be perfect! I loved gymnastics, lived and breathed for it. I dreamed of being an Olympic gymnast, and even had my sights set on going to Los Angeles in 1984 (was I even old enough, I’m not sure, but it’s what I wanted). I had the best cheerleaders supporting me and believing in me. But I just didn’t believe enough in myself. I was afraid I wouldn’t be perfect, so I just didn’t do it. I just quit.

I was a good student in high school (though I didn’t really believe it then), and got accepted to my two top colleges of choice, the University of Florida and Stetson University. I was on my way to law school, right? Wrong! Because what if I went away to school and failed? Yeah, I better just stay in my comfort zone and attend the local community college, and hang out with the same friends (at least the few who were also going to community college or who had not yet graduated) who knew me and accepted me with all my flaws and imperfections. Another missed opportunity due to my perfectionist ways, my fear of failure.

As I said before, being a perfectionist does not mean you believe you are perfect, it means you set a very high standard for yourself, and achieving anything lower than that standard is just not good enough. It means living in fear of failure, that you may not be able to do something at the highest level, so you just don’t do it at all.

I have done a lot of great things, and fun things in my life, and I’ve been through situations that have taken so much strength and courage. I have had success and faced failure. So I am not admitting my shortcomings here because I have regrets, or because life has been so rough for poor little me. I am not a person who lives in the past or lives with regrets, because there is just too much good all around me to worry about that. And my life, despite my fears and lack of confidence, is turning out more perfect than I could have imagined. In spite of my pursuit of perfection, I have failed at things. I have picked myself up and moved on, and it has been good. I know that I am not in control, that God has a perfect plan, and that things will work out. I confess my perfectionism as a “problem” because it is just now hitting me the impact it has on my child. I want her to strive to do her best in life, but I don’t want her to miss out on life because she might not do it just right. And more than anything I never want her to believe that she is not good enough, or that what she does or how she behaves is a disappointment to me. Of course I want great things for her, but the greatest thing I want is for her to know that, whatever course her life takes, she is loved unconditionally. I want her to know that she will make mistakes, and she will do some things imperfectly; but the only way to fail is to never even try.

 

 

I Am a Perfectionist, I Am Not Perfect

Oh What A Tangled Web We Weave...

Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive!                    ~Sir Walter Scott

My husband has told me that I am the most honest person he knows. I take that as a huge compliment, for that is exactly what I strive to be. Honesty, though not always the easiest way, is always the best way.  And with honesty comes trust and credibility, which are necessary foundations for any relationship, be it personal or professional.

That said, it is so hard for me to send my child out into the world knowing there are people out there who will do her the disservice of being less than truthful. That there are people who will hurt her to make themselves feel better, or to cover up their mistake. I believe that sometimes when people lie about one small thing, it can and often does snowball into a story where the truth and lie cross and weave and are almost indecipherable.

Sometimes it would seem that dishonesty is the easiest way out of a situation, and it may even seem to save some from being hurt.  And sometimes it does do that. But doesn’t the old saying “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all” come into play here? Telling people what they want to hear regardless of the truth is wrong. Making up a whole story as an excuse is not only showing you are not to be trusted, but it tells your listener, your friend, whoever you’re talking to, that you think they are less than intelligent to fall for your deception, and that you do not value and respect them. Think about that. If you tell a child you will do something, knowing full well it will not happen, then you are sending messages to that child that their time is not valuable, that their feelings are invalid, and that they are vulnerable and even ignorant. And you are sending the message it’s ok to lie to keep from getting in trouble. Even worse!

In my home we have a very open and honest family relationship. We have all been subjected to divorce, adoption, and step families (sounds sort of Jerry Springer, I know, but we really are just a normal family living life day by day), so we feel it is in everyone’s best interest to be able to discuss these topics and feelings openly to help establish strong loving relationships. We do keep information age appropriate, and there are definitely things such as finances that kids do not need to be burdened with, of course. Obviously there are subjects that do not need to be discussed. But when my child asked my husband (when she was only 4 and he was not yet my husband or her father) where babies come from he knew he had to be honest with her, as that is my policy and his too. This was truly a challenge for him (as it would be for any dad, I think!) as they were still developing a parent figure/ child relationship; and, before meeting us he had only fathered two little boys who had never approached him with this subject. So he did his very best (which I must say was great!), took his time, and explained to her that a seed is planted in the mommy, and then it grows in her tummy and becomes a baby. And for her innocent 4 year old mind that was enough. So there was an honest conversation that was age appropriate and no deception needed. He did not say the stork delivered her, and he did not say go ask your mom. Instead he showed my daughter that he can be trusted and that she can talk to him, thus laying another brick in a strong foundation for an open honest relationship.

Some people are amazed that my daughter knows she is adopted, and that we are so open about it. But to me, I don’t know any other way. I would not want my child to “find out” later in life that she is adopted and to realize that I, as her mother, have lied to her her entire life, that I am capable of being deceitful to her. I would not want to break that trust she has in me. I want her to know that I’m proud of her, of who she is, and of how she came to be with me. I want her to know with all her heart that she can trust me, that I will always be looking out for her best interest, and that I will always tell her the truth. I want her to know that even though the truth may sometimes be the harder way in a situation at that moment, it is the best way. I want her to trust me to work through trials and hurts with her, knowing that, standing on her principles and values, good will prevail. It may not be the “good” we were planning, or the “good” we thought we wanted, but things will work out for the good.

I am sending my daughter out into this crazy world with hopes and dreams and trust! Trust! Trust in the good in the world! So if you are a person I have entrusted my daughter’s hopes and dreams to, if you are someone I have chosen to help mold her into the person God has planned for her to be, then please, please, I beg you, don’t shatter her heart by being less than truthful. By covering up the truth to avoid looking bad in her eyes. Please keep this in mind for all of our children. Because you know what? When children realize you are capable of lying to them, they learn very quickly they can’t trust you. And when they realize a family member, a teacher, a coach, a friend, cannot be trusted then they begin to question who they can trust. Not only does the person who did the injustice of lying look bad, but so do other people in a same or similar role. Or even worse, the child will believe that if this influential person in their life lies and “gets away” with it, then it must be ok, right? Wrong! Please don’t ever teach my child that lesson. Please help me show her that honesty really is the best policy. It may not always be the easiest way, but it truly is what is right, what is fair, and what people deserve. Be the good in the world for my child, for our children.

 

 

 

 

 

Oh What A Tangled Web We Weave...