A Horrible Day?

A fan of the book and movie, “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day” by Judith Voirst, I never thought I would walk a day in Alexander’s shoes. But, haven’t we all had one of THOSE days?

Mine started with sitting on a committee watching parents do nothing to help their children succeed in their education. My mind reeling from the thoughts of how a mom can deny her child the education he needs because she doesn’t want to drive him to school or teach him to use the bus system at the age of 16, I finish the committee meeting exhausted mentally only to receive a text that my husband is locked out of the house.

I rush to pick him up only to discover, I don’t think I have a house key either. So, what do two irresponsible parents do when they’ve lost their house keys? Why visit their teenagers to retrieve their key. We drove to see our older kids at their dress rehearsal. After the rehearsal was over, many friends shared with me how well my kids had done. I was already crying because my son is graduating this year and part of that realization was sitting in. But, after the rehearsal and the constant crying, we retrieved the key and headed home.

Arriving home, we found my son’s graduation announcements at the front door. Half excited to see them and half concerned that I was an emotional wreck, I tried to decide whether to open them or wait until I was in a better state. No time for such decisions as we walked into the house to find the back door open. Not unlocked mind you, OPEN! Yes, the slider was open 2 feet and the dogs have just had the best day of their lives running in and out for the last 8 hours while we air-conditioned the neighborhood.

I decided to open the announcements, because truly I’m the most impatient person I know. Left to me, all the Christmas presents would be unwrapped on December 10th. The announcements were perfect, until my husband noticed that they were not. I had the wrong date! Not a day off, but an entire month off. More tears as this day hit disaster status.

But, just like Alexander, I learned something on my terrible day:
**Education is a gift & I’m thankful it is a priority in my family
**Dress rehearsal or not, every chance I get to see my kids perform is a blessing
**Open doors & wasted A/C reminded me how safe our neighborhood is
**A mistake often provides a company the best opportunity to prove its worth

Maybe a terrible day is all about perspective and as Alexander says in the movie, “you gotta have the bad days, so you can love the good days.”

 

End Grocery Store Madness

If you have a toddler or preschooler, chances are you would rather have a root canal than take your children to the grocery store. Let’s see if this sounds familiar:

In the midst of colorful boxes containing sugary cereals, you choose the healthy boring cereal and then it begins. You look for exits knowing a full meltdown is on its way. Your precious, darling child sounds the alarm alerting all other shoppers to the injustice happening on the cereal aisle. You contemplate giving into your little one’s desire in hopes of ending this meltdown, yet know you can’t continue to give in. Other women pass you and you feel their disapproving glare. You find yourself wondering how can you get out of the store and why can’t you afford a Nanny?

Have you been there? I know I have. As a foster parent, I found myself often in the store with 4 or 5 kids at a time praying I could race through the store before a meltdown occurred, until I found something that worked for us.

1.  Before entering the store, give each child a job & let them know how to do that job. Connor, today you are going to be the coupon hunter. You are going to look for coupons and then we will sneak up on the coupon and take one. Leslie, you are going to be the grocery getter. When I ask you to get the grocery, you can take one off the shelf and place it carefully in the cart. 

2. Let the children know that you have a silly bands/bracelets or something else to slip on their wrists for every 3-5 groceries you get. This helps your children focus on how many items you have versus how many other things you don’t have (the sugary cereal).

3. Let your kids know the reward for ending up with the silly bands/ bracelets at the end of the trip. This may be the free cookie the grocery store gives kids, an extra chapter in a read aloud, a favorite CD on the way home, time at the park or an extra 10 minutes of television.

Setting up the trip before you walk in the door, giving your kids something to focus on, and rewarding their good behavior should make grocery shopping much more tolerable. 

Rock on, Momma, rock on!

 

50 Shades of Grey: A Mom’s Perspective

God woke me this morning. He fueled a fire in me. Next weekend the book touted as the quickest book to 1 million sales releases as a movie. In the midst of commercials indicating the love story, I worry too many moms and their teens will see this movie. Obviously, too many have already read the book.

I have 3 children at home (ages 16, 15 & 8). As a mom, may I give you 3 reasons why I won’t read the book or see the movie:

1. My son is 16 years old. This movie is rated R, meaning my son can easily see this movie without any parental permission. On the movie’s website they proudly promote their erotic genre, yet were not given the typical NC-17 or X rating that such films typically receive. Early reports share that 20 minutes of the film contain sex scenes, making this movie the most sex-filled movie in the last decade. Worst yet, the sex is violent and perpetrated by a handsome young man. Those images and perspective would have a lasting impression, which could ultimately ruin his ability to care for and love his future bride the way his father cares for and loves me.

2. My daughter is 15 years old. While you may think she couldn’t gain access to an R rated film, you would be wrong. A reviewer clocks the lead actress with saying “holy” 147 times in the book. That equates to once every 3.5 pages. Yet, the one One that remains Holy is God, Himself. There is nothing holy about being physically hurt during sex. I would never wish my daughter to derive arousal from pain. This book and movie not only demoralize what God intended for sex, it devalues God’s value in our lives.

3. My youngest daughter is 8 years old. She may be too young to see the movie by herself, but she has seen the commercial and has asked some questions. In Vitro my little one was exposed to drugs and alcohol by her biological mother. For 8 years, I have watched the toll that has taken on my little girl as she has struggled to meet physical milestones and more recently educational milestones. According to statistics, the lead female character drinks between 6.7 – 7.3 units of alcohol every day for the 25 day span of the book (the maximum suggested intake is 2-3 units/day). While I should hope it would give pause to everyone that reads the book or watches the movie, let me state it clearly, this character must drink to desensitize herself from the pain and/or several reviewers state she would be hospitalized due to the amount of alcohol intake.

I promised you 3, but I couldn’t end without the most important reason for NOT reading this book or seeing this movie: “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” Philippians 4:8.

One last note to every mom who has already read the book. Please do not read this post thinking I judge you. I do not. We live in a sexually saturated culture, but God’s grace is abundant. I pray you will seek God’s guidance in “whatever” you do, think, read and watch. We all need to. God loves you Momma!!

 

Emergency

A visit to a college campus kept me on my toes as I passed several of these helpful “Emergency” poles. A sad reality of our violent times, but I must say I was challenged.

My self-control was challenged.

I wanted to push the button!

When did my first-born become old enough to look at colleges?
How can I imagine dropping him off at a college?
They want him for 4 1/2 years? (PS: I thought college was supposed to be 4 years.)
Isn’t there a pause button on this thing called life?

You’ll be proud. I didn’t push the button. I wanted to, boy did I want to. I mean, if they really want my baby, they need to have a good response time.

I wanted to pick him up, pack him up & hide him in my house. He’s mine! And that’s when it hit me…

I’m on the wrong side of the Emergency. The emergency isn’t when he leaves. The emergency is NOW. I need to take the time and make the memories NOW.

 

I’ve LOST My Mind

LOST MIND: If found, please return. Actually, if you find an upgraded version, I would certainly prefer it!

I have a bit of Obsessive Compulsive Behavior. This behavior provides the structure and gifts necessary to do my job. My behavior sometimes gives off this air that I have it all together. I don’t. Not at all. I am completely honest and upfront about my lack of keeping it all together. And that brings us to my lost mind.

My husband wanted to give me a gift of time. He knows I’ve been stressed and short on time. He wanted to have a professional come in to our home and clean it up. Yes, in the midst of trying to keep it all together, dust bunnies have taken up residency under my couches and hairballs are threatening shower drains. Counters are littered with dishes and stickiness. Floors hidden under layers of dust and mirrors spotted. As if posting this truth wasn’t proof enough of my lost mind, I invited a friend over to clean. YES, a FRIEND. I told you, lost my mind. Gone, not to be heard from again.

I say “friend”, but I should say ex-friend. I’ve sworn her to secrecy about the condition of our home. If I wasn’t in a total bind, I would clean it myself. I hope this friend will speak to me again after cleaning my house.

Think of it. When you clean, you know everything. I’m a cleaner. I often offer to clean other people’s homes, because I find it therapeutic to clean. I’ve always been the type not to have someone to clean, because I was going to clean before anyone cleaned. I’m certifiable, I know. Crazy farm must be full.

So, I’m crazy. I am thankful though! This gal did an amazing job. She cleaned things I glance over. My house is beautiful. The floors glow, the counters shine, the smell glorious. I may have lost my mind, but with a house this clean, it should surely show up soon.

 

Under Siege

I’m bunkered down, hiding. The constant noise of incoming attacks proves deafening. I cover my ears and bury my face. I long to disappear, find a place where phones don’t ring, emails don’t ping and notifications don’t summon my attention.

The news always bad, the storm cloud always threatening. The stress mounts and I feel dizzy. I wrote a couple of weeks ago about being Washed Out & Waiting for the Rainbow. Honestly, I expected to quickly compose a post to tell how God swooped in and saved the day. I want to tell the world that God has already provided my rainbow in high-definition Technicolor. I want to.

Instead, I sit bunkered and under siege from stress and bad news. At every turn, I find my to-do list growing. In the midst, a loved one faces a biopsy, a much-needed vacation must be canceled, and our housing situation a mess. Every minute of every day scheduled.

The rainbow seems covered by storm clouds. I stand firm in my faith. God has brought us through rougher storms than this. In Jeremiah 1, the Lord says in verse 18:
“For see, today I have made you strong like a fortified city that cannot be captured, like an iron pillar or a
bronze wall.”

I may be under siege. You may be under siege, but take heart. God has made us strong. I can not be captured. I will not be captured. I know the rainbow will reveal its splendor in due time.

 

Tag Team

 

Minimally-dressed, physically-built men act enraged and pounce a team looking like a mirror image. That’s wrestling. Tag Team Wrestling, though could teach us a thing or two about parenting.

When 1 player becomes tired or has taken a pounding, they can tag out and their teammate, will jump in to defend the team. Parenting can work much the same way. A tired mom can tag dad, a worn out dad can tag mom. Regardless the reason, there are times we need to rely on our parenting partner.

While our partner takes care of things on the mat, we can get the rest we need. We can prepare to take the next match. Parenting can be physically and emotionally draining. It helps to have a partner.

There is ONE thing to remember: While your partner is on the mat, your partner calls the plays. Dads and Moms don’t parent the same way. I have been guilty numerous times of tagging my husband and then supervising his turn on the mat. I found there was no quicker way to break up our teamwork than to undermine his importance on the team.

 

 

Crazy First Day

Today was my daughter’s first day at school. I dressed her up in a cute uniform dress, placed her brand new Hello Kitty backpack & matching lunchbox in her hand and headed to school. I’m an early bird, so I thought I would arrive early. I arrived to her school to find it swarmed with people. They must have given free lunch tickets to the first million without letting us newbies know. The traffic required I park a block away.

I hauled out the 50+ pounds of school supplies and carried them the block. Upon making it to the building, we were taken on a wild goose chase to find the correct class. I longed to set down the unbearable weight on my shoulder. Honestly, I would have donated the supplies to anyone willing to carry them.

After introductions, I reminded my daughter that no matter how much she wants to ride a bus, she is a car rider. I fill out the appropriate car rider forms, drop my supplies (which I labeled, because some people didn’t bring the WalMart school supply section with them), and kissed my Love Bug goodbye. I did reprimand a girl making fun of another young girl who was crying. I didn’t reprimand the boy standing at the teacher’s white board scribbling even though he should have been at the table. I didn’t because that boy’s parents were looking on without a touch of shock on their face (seriously, this isn’t a sign of art prodigy, tell your kid to sit down).

The day was busy, so honestly, I was okay. UNTIL pickup. The car line was crazy. Traffic backed up like Chick-Fil-A Appreciation Day. Drivers anxious to pick up their children found favorite school activities to occupy themselves like music (horn honking), sign language (finger gestures – not appropriate for Elementary School) and drivers ed (weaving & cutting people off).

Thirty-five minutes after joining the car line, I was within the “loop”. I was asked which child I wanted. I thought this a particularly interesting question. Honestly, you will give me whichever one I want? You don’t need identification of some type?? I gave him my daughter’s name and grade and proceeded in line. The next person asked again who I wanted. This gentleman began hollering for my daughter, but I could see the children at this point and my daughter was NOT there. Just as I thought, she has convinced them she is a bus rider. Who knows where she is.

Minutes later out of a door, came my Love Bug. She had a smile from ear to ear. I didn’t cry when I dropped her off, but to see her safe and happy after her first day made me so proud.

To all you parents, teachers, administrators & kids: You are in my prayers. May God bless you with a much smoother day 2!!

 

Run, Momma, Run

Marathon. Half Marathon. Iron Man. Iron Woman. I have many friends that have either completed one of these or are in training to do so. I’ve considered adding it to my bucket list. I’d love to look like the athlete it takes to accomplish these feats, just haven’t put in the work to do so.

However, if you are a mom, let me remind you that you are in a race. A race against time. Not in efforts to rush you, but to encourage you to finish well.

Here’s an idea we got from a good friend of ours:

1. Count the number of weekends you have until your child leaves for college. Got that number? Oh, of course you can use a calculator!
2. Place 1 marble for each weekend in a vase or other container. It is better if the container is see-through.
3. Place an empty vase or other container beside the full one. Again, better if the container is see-through.
4. Every weekend you have with your child, move one marble from the full vase to the empty one. This visual will help remind you that your weekends are passing by. This can be even more fun if you use gum balls instead of marbles (munch, munch).

The vases should provide encouragement for you to plan your time. Enjoy your children. Be a parent. Understand there might not be much time left to teach them what they need to know.

Run, Momma, Run. You might not “win” the race, but aim to finish well!

 

Come On, Momma

Background for Today‘s Post: One of my favorite things on ESPN is “C’Mon, Man”. It is ESPN’s Monday Night Countdown of all the plays that week that make the sports anchors scratch their heads. They are often silly miscues, honest mistakes or over-the-top show boating.

My daughter and I wait patiently to see the pediatrician in a packed office filled with children needing their back-to-school physical. The mom in question, in her early thirties is well dressed with long blonde hair. Her son, about 2 years old, begins playing with his stuffed dinosaur. The dinosaur looks to be well-loved. It’s head appears darker than the body, most likely due to the teething boy’s ritual of chewing on it. The bottom of the dinosaur lacks color and seems to be losing some stitching, probably due to the boys rough play of dragging it along the ground while actively pretending the dinosaur is alive.

Suddenly, the boy brings to his mom a twin. A dinosaur that looks just like his, yet less worn. The boy’s eyes light up with excitement that his dinosaur has found a friend. As the boy searches the room for a little guy to play pretend with his gaze catches only pig tails and a sea of pink. No other boys in the waiting room. He asks his mom, “Who dino?” And that’s where things got a little crazy..

Mom replies, “Yours.” The son, lifts his dinosaur and says, “No, this mine.” Mom begins to tell her son that another boy left the dinosaur and since he found it he gets to keep it. She actually follows up by having her son repeat after her, “Finder’s keepers, loser’s weepers.”

Her son’s name is called and she gather’s her things. The son tries to leave the lost dinosaur, but mom again repeats, finder’s keepers, loser’s weepers. She glances at another mom and says, “Finally, I might get to wash his dinosaur.”

Come on, Momma!

Every mom has had a day where you weren’t on your game, you didn’t play well, you needed a time out. Standing on the sideline, I wanted to be the referee. I wanted to call, “Foul.” I wanted to impose a penalty. But that is not my place. I should have spoken up. I should have suggested she turn it in at the desk, so the desperate mom, whose son would be searching the waiting room momentarily for his long lost dinosaur, had a shot at comforting her child. I should have, but I didn’t. I sat quietly amazed at one momma, who was off her game. Momma, if you are reading this, I’m sorry. I should have had your back. We mommas need to play as a team, please forgive me.