Single Motherhood

Dear Readers, 

Today, I am sharing a first hand account from a friend of mine who needed to live in a safe shelter for a period of time. She has graciously agreed to let me share her story.  Names and identifying information has been removed to protect the family. This letter was written by a person who utilized the services of a local domestic abuse shelter. We urge any and every one to support their local shelter. Far too often we form inaccurate impressions about single moms and people who need a hand. I am proud of the difficult decision my friend made to protect her children and get back on her feet. I also invite each and every one of us a chance to walk a mile in her shoes. 

Thank you, my friend, for your honesty and love. You're in my thoughts daily.


To Whom it May Concern,

It will be difficult to convey, in the body of a letter, the amount of appreciation I have for the ABC shelter, for its programs and staff, and for its parent organization, XYZ services. At the risk of sounding cliche’ or overly dramatic, the truth is that ABC was instrumental in saving my life and, hence, the lives of my children.

I am referring to a literal “life saving” as I was so beaten down, confused, isolated and exhausted by the time I turned to the ABC in late 2009, that I could no longer see the benefit of being alive. My self esteem and dignity were such that I entertained the thought that even my children may be better off without me. I had unknowingly enabled the cycles of power and control to exist within my marriage for 13 years by that time. My husband had broken my bones, secretly fathered a child with a mistress, and abandoned my children and me, leaving, literally, nothing. We had no support in the area. We lost our home, car, bank accounts, and so forth. Few people believed me when I finally revealed the ugly happenings within my family....until I spoke with a kind counselor at the ABC. That was the first moment of transformation for my children and I, although it took me a very long time to realize it.

My children were X and X years old at the time. My goal was to keep them both living as “normal” of a life as was possible, to feel loved, and to model for them hope and confidence (which were, admittedly, feigned at the beginning as I myself was dangling at the end of my proverbial rope.)

My youngest was largely insulated from the crisis within our family because of his age. He loved the ABC. To this day, he refers to it as “the hotel” and loves to visit on the nights I attend the women’s support group. We made friends there and he loved that there was a Wii in the living area, and lots of food. :-) He was very comfortable in our “hotel room”, and enjoyed the staff who treated both children very well.

My oldest son was uncomfortable when we first arrived, because of the procedures involved with keeping the building secure. He said, when we first arrived, that he felt like he was in jail. However, by the end of our stay, he liked the locked door. He had grown to feel very safe and secure and I am sure he sensed that I, his only caregiver, also finally felt safe and was able to rest for the first time in years. When we left, he said he missed that security.

Both boys enjoyed “the treat closet” and I loved that if I was ever without hats or mittens, the staff would find something for us. I loved the availability of certain things that helped me so much at that time, such as a gas card at one point when I needed it, free coupons for the boys’ haircuts, groceries, even bathroom supplies when I was without. Knowing that my children and I were in a safe environment, getting rest, and having people on staff at all times who understood what we were going through, was such a blessing.

During my stay, I began an education in domestic abuse, sociopathy, power and control, and so forth. The knot in my mind slowly began to loosen. Without that education, I don’t know that I could have taken necessary steps toward emotional health. I was also made aware of community resources which I have since fully utilized to create a new life for myself and my children.

The women’s support group, the family crisis hotline, and the excellent advocate services still continue to help us transition and to deal with our family history and its ongoing collateral challenges. I have also taken advantage of XYZ's other programs.

The shelter and all of its related programs were invaluable to myself and, therefore, to my children. Their future families will likewise benefit from the safety, care, education and support we received. I have come to know many other women and children who have passed through the doors of the ABC with stories parallel to my own. I am certain countless individuals benefit from the existence of the ABC. I shudder to think of how my story would have been different if I hadn’t found it.

Please feel free to contact me at any time with any questions regarding my experiences with ABC services.

Sincerely,
A grateful mother

Happy Birthday, Firstborn Child!

Tomorrow marks 17 years since the day I first became a mother. As cliche as it sounds, it seems like just yesterday. I cannot believe that little peanut I nervously held in my arms moments after she was born is now dating, driving, and preparing to graduate from high school. I swear it was just yesterday my water broke.

I want to travel back in time and share her story. I remember all of the moments up to her birth so well, but if it's never written down, it will never be permanent. It's the story of a little girl who was early for her birth and hasn't been on time since. We jokingly call her "Last Minute Libby".

I spent my pre-motherhood days as one of the grocery store head cashiers. I was also the store union steward and I wore a number of hats. I loved my work at the store, even if I complained about the hours. I loved working an honest job with salt of the earth people. I loved helping them as their union rep. I loved everything about my job. This matters because a mere week before I gave birth to my daughter, I was walking a picket line at a non-union store, carrying a sign that said 26,000 +1 (a tribute to my enormous tummy) reasons to shop union. Our medical leave was structured such that for maternity time, you were given 4 weeks prior and 6 weeks after paid leave. We also had to be off work for a week in order to be eligible for leave.

I scheduled a vacation week five weeks before my due date to fulfill the requirements of my leave. My last day was a Friday. I didn't know it would wind up being my last day ever at the store, so I clocked out and spent the evening with a few friends. Over the weekend, I finished up the baby's room, knowing that work would get harder and harder as the weeks progressed. I painted, hung curtains, put up a darling Noah's Ark wallpaper border. The room was gender neutral, as we didn't find out what the sex of our baby was. My husband worked nights so we also had all day Monday to finish up the room. We washed the paint brushes, smiled at our work and went to buy a rocking chair.

We put the rocking chair in the room and he went to lay down to sleep before he had to work all night. We had a big weekend coming up with a family wedding on Saturday and the baby shower on Sunday so I went to shop for a maternity dress at a favorite resale shop. I bought a lovely maternity dress and was excited that I found something to wear for the weekend.

As I was walking back to the car, in the parking lot of the store, I had an accident. I didn't know what exactly was happening, but I knew I had to get home ASAP. Naturally, it seemed like every single light was red or the roads were under construction, but I did finally arrive home. My bottom was soaked and I wasn't sure if I had pee'd myself, was bleeding, or my water broke. I remember our Lamaze instructor explaining that amniotic fluid had no scent. When I saw that the wetness was clear, I began to sniff. Smelling nothing, I shook my husband awake from his sleep to confirm. I'm sure to this day he thanks me for that wake up call.

We went to the doctor's office right down the street, and he did a test on the fluid and confirmed, my water had broken. Our doctor was very holistic and laid back. Upon confirming that my water had broken, he told me to go home and relax and if I wasn't in labor by morning to call him, then head over to the hospital where they would induce me. Only now, years later do I realize how unusual (but I'm grateful) his instructions were. Most doctors admit you immediately.

We went home and started making phone calls. I nervously rocked in the new rocking chair trying to figure out why this new baby was coming so early, praying the baby would be okay. To be honest, I was neither relaxed nor resting. I was jittery and stressed. I was afraid to eat, because heaven forbid I poop during childbirth, so I was trying to ignore my hunger pangs. About 8 PM, I could no longer stand it, I was sure I was in labor (I was barely) and we went to the hospital.

They immediately strapped me into every machine conceivable and hooked up wires and monitors in places I didn't know could be monitored and told me to lay still since I was five weeks early. The night crept by miserably. I tried to sleep, but couldn't. My husband and I watched some Cleveland Indians baseball where he told me that if we had a boy, he wanted to name him Omar or Orel. These are not good names for our last name, so I just held out hope for estrogen.

I was hungry but wasn't allowed to eat. I was determined not to have drugs, so while I had some childbirth pain, I can honestly say, the biggest pain was hunger. I wanted food. I asked the nurses if they could but a hamburger in my IV. Around 6 AM, with little progress, my husband went to have breakfast and they gave me lime jello and chicken broth. I was getting crabby and quite frankly aggravated. I kept biding my time and around 9 AM things really began to hurt. I broke down and asked for an epidural. I was angry with myself because I was determined to birth my children naturally. Except I asked too late and they couldn't give me anything because the contractions were coming too quickly and I couldn't stay still long enough for the epidural to be put in place. That in itself was pain relief because I knew the moment was near when our baby would be born and I would be allowed to eat. In that order, but just barely.

Did I mention I was hungry? I also should mention that every single person who thinks they can predict the sex of a baby by the way the mother looks had emphatically said "you are having a boy/I'm never wrong" or something to that effect. They had told me repeatedly that I was having a boy. I'll admit my first instinct was that I was having a girl, but in the face of their expert testimony, I was sure I was having a boy. Finally I begin to give birth. It was in a teaching hospital, so I had an audience of interns. I wonder if they remember it as well as I did. Our baby emerged and when the doctor said, "She's a girl!", the first thing I said was "Really?"

The next thing I said was...

"I'm hungry."

And so it was, our firstborn joined the world. September 20, 1995 is a day I will never forget. I became a mother to the prettiest, smartest, cutest, and most wonderful child born that day. Her bright eyes and tiny little features still exist. She has grown into a graceful and talented young lady. Being her mother is one of the proudest achievements of my life.

Plus, her name isn't Orel or Omar.

Happy Birthday, Sweetheart. I love you more than life itself. You give me reasons to be proud on a daily basis. Always stay wonderful. You're a special girl.

Sellout? Or something else?

This is my personal blog. This is where I pontificate about the slices of my world that make my life work. This is where I bring my bare soul.

Including the one that really does want to make money doing it.

Paraphrased, theologian Frederick Buechner has written that, "Vocation is where our greatest passion meets the world’s greatest need."  I agree and I accept my vocation with joy. I define my vocation as the gift of sharing words and ideas. So share, I do. Have I found vocation? Am I compensated?

Fact is, that is reader dependent. I share books, products and services that may be useful to you. I won't claim that I've tried them all. Maybe half. But I will claim that I tried to match up advertisers with you. I hoped that the companies I gave space to on this blog would resonate with you. I hope that if their product interests you as much as it did me, you'll find out more, sign up for a newsletter, perhaps buy something they sell.

It isn't super important. I have no expectations that I will achieve lifelong wealth by writing this blog. I will admit, I expect that you'll find what I have to say worth investigating. And I hope you enjoy those who graciously sponsor my words enough to patronize them.

3 Essential School Supplies—That Aren’t on Your List

YES! Magazine encourages you to make free use of this article by taking these easy steps. 
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License 

When kids have friends, they’re more likely to grow into happy adults. How to help your children develop the tools they need most.
by Christine Carter

posted Sep 12, 2012

This article originally appeared on GreaterGood and is reposted with permission

Photo by Chris Metcalf

Art supplies, a cool thumb-drive, and a new backpack are nothing short of thrilling in my household. We love preparing for school. And like a lot of parents, I assumed for years that success in school would be a safe route to happiness in life.

But a new study, which followed nearly 1,000 people over 32 years, makes it abundantly clear that preparing kids for academic success does not necessarily lead to happiness. You know what does predict happiness in adulthood, according to the study? Friendship. When kids have a lot of friends in childhood and adolescence, they tend to grow up to be happy adults.

I’m not suggesting we should stop helping our kids with their homework, or that we should casually send them to school unprepared to learn. Obviously not. But this study reinforces the most important thing we’ve learned about happiness in the last 100 years, across academic disciplines the world over: Our happiness is best predicted by the breadth and the depth of our relationships with others.

All of this is to say that there are a few back-to-school “supplies” our kids need that are not usually on the lists schools send home. They need tools to build social intelligence.

If your kids are lucky, their schools will provide these tools. My own children are blessed to have Dovetail Learning’s Toolbox Project curriculum taught at their school, Prospect Sierra. Toolbox teaches a set of 12 Tools—or skills, practices, habits—that kids can use to forge friendships and navigate the sometimes difficult social waters at school.

Below are three of my favorite Toolbox school supplies, and ideas about how to send your child back to school with them.

1. The Courage Tool

Returning to school takes courage for many children, especially when they are changing schools or are moving from elementary to middle school. Kids use courage when they do something they know is right, like inviting a new student to sit with them at lunch. They also use courage when they don’t do something they know is wrong, even though someone is pressuring them to do it. And they use courage when they express themselves, such as by standing up in front of the class or asking a question they’re afraid others will think is stupid.

Here are some ways to send your kids to school with courage:

• Ask them what the word means to them. Talk with them about facing difficult things without fear. Share examples of ways to use courage at school.


The Courage Tool-2:54 from Peter Hwosch on Vimeo
• Teach them that courage is like a muscle: The more they use it, the easier it is to stand up for what they know is right. The courage they build now will serve them for the rest of their lives.
• Help them be aware of the thoughts they have that influence their bravery. What can they say to themselves to help themselves feel courageous? (I am strong enough to do the right thing.) What types of things do they say to themselves that make them fearful? (Everyone will think I’m weird if I tell her about that.)

2. The Garbage Can Tool

Our kids’ social lives are full of conflicts, large and small. To help them navigate these conflicts, Toolbox suggests how they can treat “unkind words and actions” as garbage and throw them away. The “Garbage Can Tool” helps kids brush off unkindness, especially slights that were unintentional or not meant as personal injuries, and foster resilience.

Here are some ways to send your kids to school with the Garbage Can Tool:

• Talk with your kids about how some conflicts and unpleasant words aren’t worth giving time and attention to. These things are just like trash: stinky, rude, or inappropriate. The place for them is the garbage.
• Help them symbolically create a place to put “trash”: Once they decide that something is garbage, or that an unpleasant event is over, they can move on by throwing it away (tossing it aside to get it out of their physical space).
• As Epictetus said: “It’s not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters.” Talk about how the Garbage Can Tool can be an effective way to respond to something unpleasant.

3. The Breathing Tool

If I had to pick only one of these tools for my children, I’d pick this one. It’s the tool I use most myself: I use it to diffuse stress, to focus, and to keep myself from overreacting. My daughters also “take five”—five long, slow breaths as described below—before resolving an argument, which makes them seem mature beyond their ages, like little Buddhas.

A lot of good science suggests that focusing on their breath can be powerful for students: It reduces stress, stimulates creativity, boosts test scores, and improves focus.

Here are some ways to send your kids to school with the Breathing Tool:

The Breathing Tool 2:51 from Peter Hwosch on Vimeo.

• Practice this with your kids: Put one hand over your heart and one hand on your stomach. Breathe in slowly through your nose. Focus on the sensation of fresh air coming into your lungs and on how it feels as your belly expands. Pause briefly, relax, and then exhale through your mouth, counting slowly to five.
• See if you can take five or even 10 intentional breathes like this.
• Ask kids to pay attention to how their body feels when they use the Breathing Tool.

Developing tools like these can have a remarkable effect on your child’s ability to deal with difficulty on the playground and make friends—just watch this powerful video of kids talking about how they use their “tools” to deal with bullying at their school (the last minute in particular moved me to tears).

The kids in this video offer clear evidence that children are better served when we prepare them for tough choices they have to make on the playground, not just the tough choices they have to make on standardized tests.

Frankenweenie Sweepstakes

This is message brought to you as because I'm a  Disney blogger. But who wouldn't love to win a trip to Disneyland? 

Frankenweenie Monstrous Sweepstakes:

Enter the Frankenweenie Monstrous Sweepstakes for a chance to win a spooktacular vacation for four to experience all the fun of Halloween Time at the Disneyland® Resort. Plus, don’t miss The Art of Frankenweenie Exhibit only at the newly expanded Disney California Adventure Park, where you can get an up-close look at the amazing world of Frankenweenie through sets, puppets, props and more. And for a limited time Guests will be treated to a special 4D extended preview of the film at the Muppets Vision 3D Theater before Frankenweenie comes to theaters in 3D October 5th!

Visit www.disney.com/frankenweeniesweeps to enter the Monstrous sweepstakes and you could win Halloween Time at the Disneyland® Resort for some frightfully family-friendly fun!

Dates:

August 23 - October 7, 2012

Entries:

Online: www.disney.com/frankenweeniesweeps

Mobile – Text EDGAR to DISNEY (347639*) to enter for a chance to win. *Msg and data rates may apply. If you’re under 18, get your parents’ permission first.

Prizing:

One (1) Grand Prize – A 4 day/3 night vacation for four to Disneyland® Resort and Disney California Adventure Park to experience the world of Tim Burton and Frankenweenie during Halloween Time.

Five (5) First Prizes – An Autographed Frankenweenie movie poster

"Like" FRANKENWEENIE on Facebook: http://www.facebook..com/Frankenweenie

FRANKENWEENIE arrives in theatres everywhere on October 5^th!

Monsters, Inc. in 3D

Our Little Sulley, c. 2002

My family just loves this movie. It's such an adorable story for all ages. We even had a mini Sulley in our family (my thing about Halloween costumes is well documented). If I couldn't buy it, they couldn't be it. But my daughter was thrilled that I could buy Sulley. And so it was. She was the cutest Sulley. I may be biased. But now Monsters, Inc. is being released in 3-D. All the story, an additional dimension. Here is a synopsis and a bit of trivia, courtesy of Disney Bloggers. 





“Monsters, Inc.,” one of Disney•Pixar’s most beloved and visually imaginative feature films ever, returns to 
the big screen to delight a whole new generation of audiences and fans alike, this time in stunning 3D. The now-classic Academy Award®-winning animated comedy adventure “Monsters, Inc.” is set in Monstropolis, a thriving company town where monsters of all shapes and sizes reside. Lovable Sulley (voiced by John Goodman) and his wisecracking best friend Mike Wazowski (voiced by Billy Crystal) are the top scare team at Monsters, Inc., the largest scream-processing factory. The main power source in the monster world is the collected screams of human children—and at Monsters, Inc., an elite team of scarers is responsible for gathering those precious natural resources. Believed by monsters to be toxic, children are strictly forbidden from entering Monstropolis. But when a little girl named Boo (voiced by Mary Gibbs) accidentally follows Sulley back into his world, he finds his career in jeopardy and his life in utter chaos. So pals Mike and Sulley plot to rectify the mistake and return Boo to her home. But when the trio encounters an unexpected series of complications, they become embroiled in a cover-up catapulting them into a mystery beyond their wildest dreams.

• “Monsters, Inc.,” originally released on November 2, 2001, was the highest grossing animated film at the global box office in 2001.
•  After 15 previous Academy Award^® nominations, Randy Newman finally won his first Oscar® for the “Monsters, Inc.” original song “If I Didn’t Have You.”
• “Monsters, Inc.” and director Pete Docter were nominated for the Academy Award for Best Animated Feature in the first year that category was established. The film was also Oscar nominated for Best Original Score and Best Sound Editing.
• Director Pete Docter went on to win an Oscar for Best Animated Feature for “Up” in 2009 and has also been nominated for Best Original Screenplay three times: “Up” (2009), “WALL•E” (2008) and “Toy Story” (1995).
• Co-Director Lee Unkrich made his solo directorial debut with “Toy Story 3,” for which he won the Academy Award for Best Animated Feature in 2011.
• Producer Darla K.. Anderson also produced “A Bug’s Life,” “Cars” and “Toy Story 3,” for which she was nominated for an Oscar for Best Picture in 2010.
• On June 21, 2013, Disney•Pixar will unlock the door to a prequel, “Monsters University,” that tells the story of how Mike and Sulley met in college, overcame their differences and became the best of friends.

Zombie Apocalypse Blog Survivors

My blogging friend Christy, author of the Ruminations on Love and Lunchmeat, recently nominated Fresh Daily Bread for the prestigious award:

Bloggers Who Will Be Saved During the Zombie Apocalypse  

She had this to say:

Fresh Daily Bread: Kim’s blog was one of the first blogs I started reading, and my own blog changed a lot as a result of reading it, realizing that blogs could be many things all at once.

I humbly accept the nomination because everyone knows that Lunchmeat without Bread is just slimy. We go together and I am happy to have her back during the Zombie Apocalypse. Part of the requirements for accepting the nomination include sharing 7 little known details about myself and nominating 15 other survivors. Since her blog readily admits it's not about math, I'm not going to expect her to count. Instead, I'll just let you know a few random facts as well as some of my favorite blogs.

What you never wanted to know about me will probably have you running for the hills. But I'm already designated as a zombie apocalypse survivor, so you have no chance. You may as well accept all this stuff you now know about me.

*Childbirth gave me hemorrhoids. I don't think I have to say anything else about it, but it did and I've had a constant reminder for almost 17 years now.

*I don't like seeds in my food. This means I won't eat rye bread unless it's seedless and strawberries and raspberries drive me crazy even though they taste good.

*I am not a cat person. I'm sorry to all my cat loving friends. Even better? Your cats know it and whenever I'm around, they find me and snuggle, weaving around my ankles, walking on the couch behind my head where I'm sitting and watching me shift uncomfortably.

*I usually ignore expiration dates on sour cream and yogurt. It's already sour and spoiled, right?

*I love opinion surveys. They are one of the few intrusive phone calls that will keep me on the line. You want my opinion? You're willing to take 10 minutes to hear it? I am so in.

*I cannot stand cell phones with their miniature everything and touch screens. I rarely remember to charge it, my kids make fun of me trying to text with it, and I don't even like to talk on it. The ear and mouth are not proportional to my face and that just bothers me. I don't like to give out my cell number because that means someone may actually try to get a hold of me on it. And unless they are conducting an opinion survey, I'm not interested.

*What? You want more? Okay. I had two kids, which apparently doubles the amount of hemorrhoids. But this isn't a post about that. It's just that for some reason that's what's got the majority of my attention today.

For the rest of the nominations?

Because I really am rather distracted today, I'd like you to just go over there------------------> to my sidebar and look at my handy little blogroll. Those are folks I enjoy reading for a variety of reasons and they bring a great deal to my blog-life. I like them all and want them around in the event of a Zombie Apocalypse, even if they bring their zombie cats. Though I'd prefer a case of Tucks or Prep. H.


I'd also like you to go over to the Circle of Moms and vote for my nominator, 

Love and Lunchmeat 

as a Top 25 New York Blog. Plus, she knows how to play euchre, which will keep us well entertained in the event of a zombie apocalypse.


Thanks again, Christy!

The Fahrenheit 451 Jacket Competition

Fahrenheit 451 

from Fahrenheit 451's Facebook page:

Big news, Fahrenheit 451 fans! In honor of next year's 60th anniversary of the book's publication, we are launching a contest to redesign the jacket. Check back to see other submissions as they come in. You have until November 30th to enter, so get to work! Open to US-residents 18 and over, please (sorry, international/young friends). 

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury turns 60 next year. To commemorate the anniversary of this classic novel, we're holding a competition to redesign the book jacket. The winning design will be used for the first printing of the special 60th anniversary edition, which will be sold in stores across the country and online.

The winner will also receive $1,500 for the use of his or her work. See Official Rules for more details.

Limit three (3) entries per person.

We're looking for work that is original, inventive, relevant to the book's content, and well-executed.

We'll be accepting submissions from September 3rd through November 30th, and the winning design will be announced in January. Submit your own jacket design here, and keep checking this page and our Facebook page to see entries as they come in!

Browse the full submissions gallery.

Irresponsible

This post is inspired by a short Facebook discussion with longtime friend of mine. We are on different sides of the aisle, but our friendship goes way back and even was as recent as a dinner we shared last summer. I like my conservative friend a great deal, and I am sure it's mutual.

His post began regarding some comments by Samuel L. Jackson on his Twitter feed. They were stupid remarks, especially when broadcast out of context. While I don't want to give credence to what he said, I should be fair and share. He tweeted his disappointment that Hurricane Isaac missed Tampa and was headed for New Orleans. What a horrible sentiment.

Mr. Jackson, it's not an either/or choose your poison situation. Your remarks were thoughtless and insensitive to two cities. I do not buy into "joke excuses" as in, I was trying to be funny, as a way to justify a thoughtless remark.  The fact remains that you wished a horror that New Orleans is still recovering from on the city of Tampa that is currently populated by folks you disagree with. How you could joke that a hurricane would hit either city? You're not funny or relevant, in my opinion.

You see that is what we do when we disparage each other. But it's so much easier to latch onto a soundbite than it is to really dig deeper. My conservative friend decried the lack of media coverage regarding Mr. Jackson's remarks. My answer was simple:

• ... both sides make ridiculously stupid comments. However, there is a double standard when it comes to media attention or lack thereof. No one on the Democrat side came out against his statements.

  
  Okay, then I will. Little voice that I am, I will. I fell in love with New Orleans this summer, but that doesn't compare to my first love Florida. I think Southern cities rock. And it was irresponsible to diss either one on the basis of politics. I'll let you know when it's published. I don't pay attention to noise, so the fact that I don't zoom in on stupid is my "excuse" if you will. However, I will now that it's been brought to my attention. Who knows? my goal is to get folks talking. This could be a start.

I will. I will denounce it. I am a small voice, but I like to think I'm a reasonable one. Mr. Jackson was wrong. He was as wrong as Akin who said stupid stuff then tried to further suggest that homosexuality is cured by breastfeeding.

It's time to stop obsessing with the minutiae. We are ONE NATION. (some of us believe UNDER GOD but thank God (or not) that we are not required to believe that),  (this part we must believe!) with liberty and justice for all.

It's time to let go of the distractions and figure out the best way to walk forward. Somehow, I don't believe it's by arguing over thoughtless stupidity.

Let's debate intelligently, and see where that gets us.

I'd love your comments...

Raw umber and other childhood delights

Today, in honor of back to school season, The Smithsonian Institute posted a photo of a 1903 box of Crayola Crayons. Delighted to see the photo, I also reminisced about the joy of a new box of crayons and dug out a piece of Americana that I have saved for over 20 years.

In 1990, Crayola retired eight colors that were staples of my childhood drawings. I bought a tiny limited edition box of the retired colors. 

I have an irrational fondness for the color Raw Umber. Most folks will describe it as a dismal black/brown mud color. But to me it was much more. I grew up on a farm and we had acres of fields and gardens. Raw umber is the color of the soil after a good rain. Raw umber is the color of the ground the plow turns up as it is prepping a field for crops. I can remember chasing my father behind the plow with my brothers looking for night crawlers to sell in our front yard to fishermen who traveled to the many lakes and campgrounds near our house. 

We had a big hand painted plywood sign that declared:
  "NIGHT CRAWLERS 75¢ a dozen" 
 propped in our front yard and my brothers made their spending money selling worms.

I didn't really love hunting for worms or handling them, so if whenever I could, I would holler at the top of my lungs "BOYS... WORM CUSTOMERS!!!". My brothers would tease me unmercifully about how I pronounced werms, warms. They'd say we better go WARM them up.  

Apparently, though, my affection for raw umber became ingrained in my psyche. When I was 7, the age of reason, I was allowed to decorate my own bedroom. Sort of. I dreamed of a girly-girly room with a canopy bed and pinks and purples galore. As I poured over JCPenney and Sears catalogs, my bedroom vision grew. 

Mom told me I could design my dream bedroom and off we went to the wallpaper store. We started paging through the massive books and I "ooh'ed and ahh'ed" over the pinks and purples and Mom pooh-poohed them. Every time I pointed out something that I liked, she steered me to another page. She never liked the color pink, so I'm sure the thought of turning her daughter's room into peptol bismol nightmare was not what she envisioned at all. In a defiant act that can only be described today, I told her I wanted a brown room. Yes, Brown. 

And that is exactly what I got. Or more accurately, raw umber. My room was carpeted in raw umber shag carpeting, the walls were covered with a delicate white floral and vine print on a raw umber background. I did get the canopy bed, and it had a yellow and white gingham bedspread and white canopy. 

While as a child it wasn't what I wished for, I grew to appreciate the sophistication. I didn't tell my mother that I never wanted a brown room until years later. I was an adult and we were talking about decorating my own child's room. She said something about how she wondered if my daughter would pick brown. I said, "I hope not, and if she wants pink or purple, that will be the color she gets." At that point, I confessed the tantrum my 7-year-old self had when I wasn't allowed to look at pink or purple wallpaper. 

That earthy color probably defined not only my childhood, but who I am today. My adult home is decorated in earth tones of browns and greens, mostly greens. A vast portion of my wardrobe is chocolate browns, or maybe raw umber. My life is plenty colorful. I'm grateful for the grounding effect of raw umber. It wasn't really discontinued. It lives on in my memories. 

Disney presents: Steven Spielberg's Lincoln

It is part of my ongoing delight as a Disney blogger to share a sneak peek of the movie about of one of our favorite presidents by one of our favorite directors. I'm really excited to see this movie.

Who was your favorite president?

Steven Spielberg directs two-time Academy Award® winner Daniel Day-Lewis in “Lincoln,” a revealing drama that focuses on the 16th President’s tumultuous final months in office. In a nation divided by war and the strong winds of change, Lincoln pursues a course of action designed to end the war, unite the country and abolish slavery. With the moral courage and fierce determination to succeed, his choices during this critical moment will change the fate of generations to come. 

Starring Daniel Day-Lewis, Sally Field, David Strathairn, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, James Spader, Hal Holbrook and Tommy Lee Jones, “Lincoln” is produced by Steven Spielberg and Kathleen Kennedy, with a screenplay by Tony Kushner, based in part on the book “Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln” by Doris Kearns Goodwin. The DreamWorks Pictures/Twentieth Century Fox film, in association with Participant Media, releases in U.S. theaters exclusive on November 9, 2012, with expansion on November 16, 2012.

 

On Target

Want to help some kids? It’s easy. Taft Elementary school can receive up to $10,000 in Target GiftCards® for books or any supplies we need. Wouldn’t that be great? All we need to do is vote for Taft school each week until September 8. It’s part of Give With Target®. For every 25 votes Taft school receives, Target will send a $25 gift card.

Taft Elementary is a school I where I volunteer a lot of time. It's in the inner city of Youngstown, Ohio in a blighted neighborhood. When I saw the Facebook app to help donate to different schools, I noticed that nobody had even once clicked for my humble little Taft. It's a great school with wiggly young children, eager to learn. They come from walks of life most of us will never experience, but they never fail to have a smile when I come to their classroom.

Here are a few excerpts to stories I've told about my adventures there. Let's help their teachers get some supplies, because I know any teacher out there can tell you they buy them out of their own wallet.

from The Value of Teachers, October 19, 2011:

The building is only 4 years old. As I was walk in, I notice two smashed windows held together with duct tape. I'm not sure if it was a gun or rock or what exactly was used to smash the windows. I can only hope it was after school hours. There are signs all around the block "school zone" no shooting/drugs/etc.

As if. We're assuming those doing the shooting have respect. In the past month alone, there have been 3 random shootings in this neighborhood. Admittedly, I'm nervous driving through there, but I think if everyone is afraid to go in, the children will never see a way out.

While I walked out, I see the flag on the flagpole hanging upside down. I've got a really strong patriotic streak, and I almost marched back into the school to tell them that the flag was hung wrong, but then I realized how busy they really are. The school doesn't have time to fix the flag. But it just made me sad. I've heard an upside down flag is a sign of distress. That certainly is the truth regarding this district.

When I was driving away, I saw an elderly gentleman walking along the sidewalk. He was wearing dress trousers, a fisherman's type of hat, a cardigan sweater, and was carrying a single golf club over his shoulder, presumably as a weapon if needed. Either that or his golf league had one last round and he was walking to the course. I'm gonna guess option A.

from Stopping the Leaks, February 12, 2011: 

One sad reality in today’s world is that only about 70% of high school students will actually graduate. That statistic is closer to 55% at inner city schools, in crime ridden areas with high poverty levels.

... as I drove through the tired neighborhood filled with boarded up homes that surround the school where I was volunteering.  I reminded myself that my car had an alarm as I parked it and tried to put aside my concerns. I wondered what it must be like to walk these streets where most of the sidewalks were heaped with snow, unshoveled, every day to school.

I walked into the classroom and it was stacked with crates and papers in a state of complete disarray. The teacher explained in an exasperated voice that the roof leaked in her classroom and that the contractor and the architect were fighting over whose fault it was and instead just kept replacing ceiling tiles. My first impression was how sad it was that such an investment was being wasted. Then I realized the investment wasn’t the building but the 21 little people whose bright eyes stared back at me with enthusiasm and energy.

Well, actually only 20 of those 21 eyes. One little guy was sound asleep, head down on his desk. As I went around the room introducing myself to each child and asking what they wanted to be when they grew up...

When I got to the sleepy guy, his table mates said, he always sleeps. I glanced at the teacher and she nodded her head in agreement. I felt sad that he would miss our fun and educational time, but neither did I want to disrespect the teacher who dealt with him on a daily basis.

Apparently, it was acceptable to let him sleep. I wondered momentarily about a second grader whose parent(s) didn’t make him go to bed, or perhaps even worse, who for any variety of reasons didn’t feel safe sleeping in his home.

My children excitedly announced that they wanted to be police officers, fire fighters, nurses, veterinarians, singers, soldiers and teachers. Typical second grade dreams. I had to pause for a moment when one little boy told me he wanted to be a gang maker. I asked him to repeat that and explain to me what he meant. He said you know, like video games, I want to invent video games. I blushed at the mistaken conclusion I had reached.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what it must be like for someone who deals with it every day and the kids who have seen more in their seven years than most of us ever will see. I hated to think that statistically, only about half those children will even finish high school. I hated to think of the violence and crime that surrounds their world, as I only have to look on the front page of our local paper for proof. I hated to realize that my hopeful game maker, with a few bad influences, could indeed become a gang maker instead.

I want to keep the faith. I want to believe we can make a difference. I think it takes the naïve enthusiasm from someone who hasn’t lost their hope, whose spirit hasn’t been dampened from leaks. I want to think about a building that is solid from the inside out, where leaks aren’t ignored by bickering about where to cast blame. We can stop the chaos one leaky drop at a time. 

This is why I urge you to help this special school. 

Find out more and vote at Facebook.com/Target

First Date

I'm nervously anticipating a first date today around lunch time. As a married woman with two children, this first date is even more nerve-wracking. But as nervous as I am, the thrill of a new romance has me giddy. The implications of a first date are a bit overwhelming at my stage of life, but believe it or not, my spouse actually knows about this first date and reluctantly approved.

I actually won the date at a charity event. It was a raffle item at the recent Relay for Life walk. I nervously dropped my ticket into the jar, wondering what on earth I would do if I actually won. Imagine my surprise when I did. I felt like the proverbial dog that finally caught its tail. Now what? I actually have to follow through on this date. I claimed my prize and then quickly tucked it away trying to figure out a suitable time for the first date.

I've nervously wondered if I actually would follow through considering I already have everything I need for such a date at home. But rather than let my date wonder why I never called, I decided to finally make time for this first date. I picked up the house and invited my date over today. I'm nervous but committed. My date arrives around 12:30 today.

My first date is with a local housecleaning service, operated by the Beatitude House. I'm really excited to meet my date, which is part of local foundation. According to Green Clean's trainer and superviser, Mary Kohut,

... the two guiding philosophies of the company are to clean with environmentally friendly products and to give women an opportunity for bettering their lives. 

“We are all about improving the lives of women and children and this is allowing us to give women meaningful employment while offering them the chance of company ownership and profit-sharing,” 

I'm just excited about my first date. I hope it goes well.

Gratitude

This Magic Moment

Angry Bird Pizza

Yesterday afternoon, I had to run to the grocery store for a few items. I realized I didn't have any cheese to make an "angry bird" pizza that had me smiling all morning. How a bird with a scowling face could make me smile... well, it just did. I don't even have little ones, I have teenagers... but the angry bird pizza was something I was compelled to make.

I didn't really need to go to the store, and I kept reminding myself that my busy teenagers were not as likely to be amused by the angry bird pizza as I was, but I still took the drive.

I'm apt to do that sort of thing these days, as I straddle the line between young mom and empty nest. I see my beautiful young adults stretch out before me, planning their futures, while I just cheer them on. But in a quiet place in the back of my mind, I remember the days when something as simple as an angry bird pizza could make their day. I remember painting shells and rocks, spreading a plaid blanket on the grass on a summer day and calling it a picnic, filling a blow up pool at the bottom of our backyard swingset slide.

Before I sound maudlin, I want to reiterate, that while I remember those days fondly, I also anticipate the joy they bring me as young adults and the excitement of the future. But nonetheless, I had it in my mind that angry bird pizza was just what I needed and set off to procure the ingredients. I figured it was a perfect panacea for a slight case of "they are growing up/that means I'm getting older" blues that afflicted me.

I got to the store with little other purpose than cheese and pepperoni, when I spied a young father pushing a cart that looked like a fire engine. Actually, I shouldn't say I saw him, but rather I heard him, as well as his young boys. They were making "Vroom vroom" and siren noises as he pushed the cart around the store. I felt like I had been rolling channels and was compelled to stop. The dad was preoccupied with his boys so I hope he didn't notice me watching, but my internal smirk at my silly need for angry bird pizza became a genuine smile as I watched the young family. I watched the boys zooming down the aisles bringing colorful boxes of joy to their dad, cocking their heads asking if it was okay and then slowly walking back to put whatever enticement caught their attention back on the shelf.

I heard them excitedly talking to their dad amid gleeful traffic sounds to accompany the fire engine cart navigating the aisles. They were loaded with energy and giggles. I couldn't stop smiling and finally at one point, our carts passed and I said, "Nobody could possibly be unhappy hearing your boys!" He smiled tiredly and politely agreed.

Then it hit me. Sometimes it takes a stranger's words to impact a moment. Sometimes when we see our lives through their eyes, our angry scowl becomes a smile. Our furrows become joy. Our eyebrows rise with glee. We know, that the moment we seek is now.

P.S. I didn't wind up making an angry bird pizza, but rather filed away the idea for when I have my niece and nephew visit. My angry bird was too busy smiling to be brought down by a scowl.  

33,309 Strong

The Minis and I just returned from our national church youth gathering this past week in New Orleans. I cannot think about anything else until I share some reflections and observations with you. I appreciate your indulgence.

There is an amazing energy that radiates when you gather such a high number in one geographic locality. The youth gathering is highly structured (as it should be when turning that number of teenagers loose in a city that is well known for crazy debaucherous stunts).  As a chaperone, I will admit, seeing The Big Easy as a chaperone for a teenage youth gathering was not how I envisioned my first trip there. There truly was no down time. I came in with an idea that we'd have time to explore what the city had to offer. What I learned was the city was waiting to see what we could offer it. That shift in perspective was mind boggling, but welcome. 

The theme of our gathering was Citizens With The Saints (or #CWTS if you're a Twitter sort). We were not there to take, but rather to give. Sometimes that gift was labor, sometimes it was monetary, and sometimes it merely was listening. Each group attending the gathering was required to spend a day in service around the city. It was interesting, as no group knew where they'd be assigned prior to the project. Our national church surveyed the non-profits in the area and  asked, "what do you need, how can we help, tell us what you want?" Once that information was gathered, it was a number game. We were assigned days as well as times of service, with one requirement. Show up and do what you're asked.

And we did.

We learned that our assignment area was "Community Care" and told to make sure we packed gloves and wear closed toe shoes. Expecting to weed city gardens and the sort, I stashed extra gloves in my suitcase, figuring I had the "just in case" covered.

We arrived at the Superdome, at 6:30 AM, ready to go. We had no additional information, so we waited patiently. We clustered with our bus assignment and waited some more. Papers were passed around for us to fill out and that was our first hint. We were assigned to something with the Park System in the state. We loaded a bus with other groups from around the nation, including Colorado and Minnesota. Our Colorado group was a bit subdued, thinking about the tragedy that befell their area the previous day. But we had a purpose.

The park ranger kindly explained that State Parks were also destroyed in Hurricane Katrina. They lost their cabins and invasive plants took over their forest. After getting a brief botanical education, we were released to create a new hiking path in area of the bayou, the swamp lands. The soil was muddy, the bugs dense, and the trees, hindrances.

Yet, it was our project and we attacked with vigor.

We ripped out trees (invasive, non native trees) and pulled up weeds. We swathed a path. We laughed when one of our girls ripped a tree out bare handedly, yet shrieked a moment later when she couldn't identify a bug flying by. We had to cut our work short as lightening and thunder were in the vicinity. We loaded the bus and drove back to the Superdome. The water in the streets had reached flash flood heights. We disembarked from the bus into knee-deep water.


We marched with joy. Our insides were exhilarated. We sang, danced and marched with not just purpose, but JOY. Pure unadulterated joy. We smiled at the trials and tribulations we logged, as we stood face to face with nothing more energetic than... JOY!

Every day, we took a recap... best/worst moments of the day. We also asked our kids to share any God moments they had (on the off chance those God moments weren't part of the best/worst summary). As the week progressed, there were more and more God moments as well as best moments.

This tale isn't intended as a chest thumping "I'm a Christian" moment, but rather as a reminder that when we spend time reflecting on our beliefs and practicing what we hear, those God moments find us. Those moments are always there, as is God. We just have the chance to see, hear, and live them.

We can take that energy and love out to the world. In fact, I challenge my group, as well as anyone else reading this to inhale that God moment. Feel it and share it. Take it out to the world. When you're sent into a task knowing nothing more than "Care for the Community" grab onto it with two hands. Grab onto it with gusto. Hold that moment with all you have and remember it. Cherish it and reflect... because...

That's how God talks to us.

Oh Brother(s)

I am the luckiest woman in the world. When I was not quite two years old, I became a sister. I became a sister not to one sibling, but two. My younger twin brothers. 

Today is their birthday(s). When we were kids, by virtue of being the only girl, I pathetically tried to play the games they played. I played football, baseball, whatever it took. I was a tomboy, albeit a clumsy one. I had a few moments of victory as the oldest. I embarrassingly started a secret club and part of their initiation was that they had to eat a piece of dog food. I don’t know why I did that to be honest, but at the time it seemed an appropriate abuse of power.

As we grew up, our family unit struggled. Our parents divorced and we found ourselves moving out of state after our dad remarried. We were thrust into a lot of new situations that we tried to make sense of, and all the while, found comfort in each other. I can remember my dad telling us, friends will come and go, but you will always be brothers and sister.  His way of reminding us that we were forever.  While my attempt to join their sports world was grasping, we soon were found in a world of youth groups and school clubs. We didn’t have a lot to work with, as far as interests went. By high school, indeed, my brothers gravitated to sports endeavors, while I went the academic route. But our family ties stayed intact.

We moved again the summer before I graduated from high school. I was a senior and they were sophomores. I was scared, as I tried to figure out a place I fit in during my last quarter of high school. I’m so grateful that they didn’t shun me while the spent the next year figuring it out. But no matter how different we were, I knew that while I was in the halls of that new place, they would still be there for me.

Right after I graduated, one of my brothers and I both got a job at the same grocery store. That solidified a bond because we discovered that we could both have the same friends and that realization made life a lot more comfortable. My other brother and I bonded over working our way through college. I can still remember going to visit him and how he made breakfast for me and whatever friend had made the trip with me. We bonded over that.

We were bonded by blood but have become further bonded by life experience. One brother is a family guy, the other is a hard working businessman. The two are not mutually exclusive, but rather the primary thrust in their lives. The businessman is indeed devoted to family and the family guy has a good head for business. I remain their mother hen, spouting advice that I know they don’t need, but I don’t know how not to give. A lifetime of experience as I reflect and think of them today.

They are separate people, but they share a day.  One year, at a church retreat, one brother talked about how great it was to have a twin. I listened to his words and realized that while maybe I was a bit jealous, but I also loved that they were that close to each other. We bonded in so many ways growing up, swimming in the pond, the bionic man, hiding the granary, telling stories (S) on late summer nights, sleeping on the porch or the backyard tent, playing kickball… all of it. My life is woven with them.

I am so proud. I love being their sister. I love them. I am proud to bask in the world that is my brothers.

D & D, I hope your day is wonderful.
I Love You.
~K

Pixar's Brave Trivia

This is a great chance to share with my readers the cool Pixar Insider notes, part of the reason I love being a Disney blogger. Enjoy!

TRADITIONS – All of Pixar’s films feature some hidden gems and “Brave” is no exception. In fact, these time-honored traditions are all featured in one set.  There’s also a tribute to longtime Pixar story whiz Joe Ranft in the same location.

• Visible somewhere in every Pixar film to date, A113 is the classroom at CalArts that has been “home” to John Lasseter, Brad Bird, Pete Docter and Andrew Stanton.
• Each Pixar film pays homage to “Toy Story” by featuring the infamous Pizza Planet Truck.
• Pixar films always tease a character from the next Pixar release.

LET YOUR GUARD DOWN – Actor John Ratzenberger, Pixar’s “lucky charm,” has had a voice role in every Pixar film. “Brave” is no different – Ratzenberger plays one of the castle guards at the entrance to the great hall. And the second of the hall guards is voiced by none other than “Brave” composer Patrick Doyle.

ANCIENT DELIVERY – The Witch, an eccentric crone disguised as a woodcarver specializing in whittling wooden bear figurines and conjuring haphazard spells, showcases her mysterious and inexplicable knowledge of the future with a carved figurine of the infamous Pizza Planet truck, an iconic delivery vehicle that’s appeared in nearly every full-length feature film from Pixar Animation Studios since 1995’s Toy Story. Disney•Pixar’s Brave is in theaters now.

NO MONSTERS IN THE CLOSET – A carving of Sulley, the lovable blue monster slated to return to the big screen in 2013’s Monsters University, appears on a piece of wood in the home of the Witch, an eccentric crone and woodcarver in Disney•Pixar’s epic action adventure Brave, in theaters now.

Mommy Blogging?

I finally realized today why that designation makes me bristle so much. I am a parent of teens. I didn't really start blogging until five years ago when they were 9 and 11 (versus 14 and 16). I don't feel like I can claim the mommy blogger title accurately, since I have very little to say about diapering or baby food. The simple fact is, the days when that was my biggest decision are no longer significant. I used cloth and nursed until they could eat. Diapers were something I dunked in the toilet then wrung out and baby food just didn't hit our horizon. I was weird then, and while it seems that more moms today are doing this stuff, it's so scattered that their only community may indeed be an online one. I know when I was diapering my children with cloth I was weird. Or cheap. Or something like that. But I'm so over it. I have nothing relevant to add to the discussion because while in the day, it was monumental, today, it's the past. I am not a "mommy blogger" in the respect that my children need an adviser more than they need a mommy.

I think.


I still think I have something relevant to say. I may not be wiping noses, but I've not stopped being a parent. I am still mom and still the first source of all things answerable. It's amazing how much more often I have to humbly answer "I don't know" versus, "I said so". I always swore I'd never b.s. my children. I wanted to give them the best I could and inspire them to places past what I could give them. As we approach their first and last year of high school, respectively, I realize they have exceeded me in many places. I am so proud of them. 

Yet, they haven't exceeded me in seniority. I am here longer so that must count for something. Come to think, it counts for a lot. The things I have left to teach them have very little to do with coloring in lines, wiping their behinds, or memorizing the ABCs. I'm prepping to talk to them about what live without parents is like. I want to explain how different the world is when you're on your own.

Yesterday, my OldEnoughToDrive child took it upon herself to go for lunch somewhere. It wasn't an expected place and at first my heart lurched. We didn't discuss this trip. I realized how I must have sounded to her. Really? You need to know each mile of my travel? As if that would help me what?

So yes, I'm a mommy blogger. I don't diaper my children or arrange their food in smiley faces. I don't create craft projects to keep us busy on a summer day. I do love them and guard over them. I smile when college offers come in. I encourage when a new opportunity unfolds.

I am their mom(my) and I couldn't be more proud.