For Auld Lang Syne

 Wow. 2014 was a great year! A lot of great things happened. A lot of great memories were made. We had some awesome times as a family. 

Like what, you ask?

Hmm... give me a minute... well, there was the fair. That was fun. And my son started school and all the firsts that come with that. We had a lot of fun playing outside. Hmm... I know there's more...

This is why I don't write Christmas cards. What happened to us this year? Stuff. Fun stuff. Good stuff. Stuff. The writer in me turns into a bumbling nincompoop.

Yet I know we had a great year. How? First, we're together. We have a warm place to call home. We have food in the cupboards. We are all healthy. We are all happy. That is how I know we had a successful year.

I've never been one to look back on times or remember specific dates. I look at pictures and remember how awesome it was. When it comes to New Year's, it's pretty much the same. This last year was awesome. Let's start the new one.

The poem/song Auld Lang Syne pretty much nails it, which is why it's one of my favorites. We all might be familiar with the first few lines and the chorus, but there is so much more to it. For reference, I've gone ahead and given the English translation below. {If you want some fun at perfecting your Scottish accent, click here for another version.}

Hint: auld lang syne translates to "old long since." Once you read it, you'll understand.

Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and auld lang syne?

CHORUS:
  For auld lang syne, my dear,
  for auld lang syne,
  we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
  for auld lang syne.

And surely you'll buy your pint cup!
and surely I'll buy mine!
And we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

 

We two have run about the slopes,
and picked the daisies fine;
But we've wandered many a weary foot,
since auld lang syne.

We two have paddled in the stream,
from morning sun till dine;
But seas between us broad have roared
since auld lang syne.

And there's a hand my trusty friend!
And give us a hand of thine!
And well take a right good-will draught,
for auld lang syne.

This is why it's one of my favorite poems/songs: it's about happiness, the kind that can last time and distance. The kind you raise your pint cup to. And at the end of a long journey, shouldn't that be the mentality? That no matter what, through it all, here you are, able to smile and laugh, regardless of the weary foot or the seas that have roared. You're able to look on the good days of picking daisies and paddling streams and have hope for the future. So hold tight to trusty hands and dance into the new year.

My resolutions for the next year? The same as always. Continue to be happy. Continue to make the choice to be happy. Continue counting my blessings and being thankful for all that I have, every day. Continue believing that I am tougher than the rest and to honor those that have taught me this. Continue seeing my beautiful strength and taking every opportunity to share it for the greater good. Continue. Continue.

Continue.

Are you ready 2015? I am.

No Map Included

Change is scary. It leaves doubt in our minds. Are we doing the right thing? What will happen? Change is scary because we can't predict it or control it. It takes away our knowledge of future events that are supposed to happen. It leaves us feeling inadequate, as if we did something to cause things to change, as if we could have prevented it.

The best way to combat the nightmare of change is to take control of what we can. In every action, every event, we have a choice in how we react and handle it. When we become scared, the natural reaction is our fight or flight response - we either get angry or we hide. Neither reaction does any good to help us weather the change.

What about coping? Where is coping, dealing with it, thinking and standing tall through the course of change in our evolutionary reactions? We are, after all, highly evolved mammals that are capable of thinking logically. We landed an unmanned rocket on a comet in the middle of space. We should be able to navigate the course of change in our lives without throwing a temper tantrum, shouldn't we?

Yes. And we can. But first, feel free to throw that temper tantrum. Take a minute to be angry or to lock the bedroom door and cry. As the quote says, "just don't unpack and live there." We always have a choice. We can always choose the good and choose to be happy. That doesn't mean we're not allowed to feel the sting of defeat every now and then. Without the bad, you can't appreciate the good.

I found a prayer online today. I'm not a religious person. Spiritual, yes, as all those are who were raised on organized religion of some brand but had too many questions and yet still believes in something greater than themselves. I've taken the (artistic) liberty of amending it to my own tastes. Let it be known that while I don't own the original words that combined to make this, I do stand by what I took away from it.

1. Release every negative thought, every trace of doubt and every bit of fear that may lurk deep within your heart.

2. Let go of the things that consume your happiness.

3. Let go of ideals, old patterns or habits, arguments and beliefs that no longer serve you.

4. Release the past and let go of the pain and anger that destroys your ability to show compassion.

Remember:

5. Letting go is a healthy practice to maintain joy and peace.

6. Letting go also means finding forgiveness, whether it is forgiving yourself or someone else.

7. Everything happens for a reason. 

When you find yourself in a situation that leaves you feeling conflicted, it's time to be honest with yourself. Ask yourself "Am I happy?" If the answer is yes, then remind yourself of what makes you happy. If the answer is no, ask yourself why. {Word of caution: while other people's action can cause us to be unhappy, in the end, it is still our reaction that is the unhappy part. You have to take responsibility for your own emotions. Why did you feel unhappy at their actions? Trying to understand your emotions will help you understand the other person's actions in a new light. That might not always justify it, but it can help.} After you've determined why you're unhappy, understand what would make you happy. Now comes the tough part: DO what will make you happy. Act on it. This is truly taking happiness - and the fear of change - into your own hands. 

This is also the hardest part of change. Change is the doorway to the unknown and full of What ifs? What if you're not happier? What if it was all a mistake? This is why people prefer to adapt to being unhappy and let it become the new substandard normal. At least in the current situation, there are no surprises. We know what to expect and we can therefore deal with it, even if it is consistent disappointment.

Understand that even if change doesn't bring you to a place where you want to be, there are valuable lessons to be learned along the way. You never know until you try. This is where #7 becomes important. Everything happens for a reason. There is a grand scheme to everything, even if we don't know it or see it. Somehow, everything works out in the end, as long as you don't give up. A leap of faith requires two things: a leap and faith. You have to leap to learn if you can fly and you need faith that you will be okay if you don't. You can plan the leap, make lists in preparation for it and dream about it. But no amount of planning, list making or dreaming can prepare your faith in your ability.

Allow yourself to let go of the negative and doubt. Clean out the closets and get rid of anything that doesn't bring you happiness. We change, and with it, so do our ideals, habits and beliefs. Allow this change to happen and don't get sucked into the trap of having to apologize for it. You're allowed to change your mind. It is, to be blunt, your mind after all.

And whatever you do, don't let past lessons (or mistakes) make you cower for fear of future change. Learn from them. The past is a valuable tool for the future. Sometimes you need to make the same mistake a few times to learn from it. Sometimes, this is just a symbol of your persistence in what you want. It's all a choice. Your past can be your friend, a lit path that shows you how far you've come. It can also be your enemy if you let regret, pain and anger rule you. We are given each day to start new. Each sunrise is a promise that we have the privilege to try again. And if the sunrise is obscured by clouds, take comfort in knowing that it is still there, above the storm, shining on the darkness below.

As I've gotten older, I've realized that we have an entire life to live. At no point is our life over unless we choose to stop living - to stop embracing change and being an active force in our own journey. Things will always happen "to" us. Life isn't linear and there's no map except for your footprints.

Change is scary. It leaves doubt in our minds. We can't predict it and we can't control it. It leaves us feeling inadequate and unprepared.

It leaves us feeling. And to feel is to be alive. To turn those feelings into something good is to live. And what a wonderful thing it is to live.

A Wrinkle of Beauty

It happened the other night. The dreaded rite of passage that every woman encounters, most time far too early by one's account. I was tired and rubbing my forehead when - suddenly - GULP.

What was that? A scar? I don't remember getting an injury there. Why was there a crease in my forehead? The more I felt it (to make sure it was real) the bigger it became. Pretty soon it wasn't a crease but the goddamn Grand Canyon.

I rushed to the mirror. I couldn't see it. I ran my fingers over my forehead again. Nope, it was there. I smiled. Still nothing. Then I raised my eyebrows. There it was, along with several of it's friends.

I smiled again. There were more. Around my mouth, at the corners of my eyes; under my eyes resembled - GULP - my mother.

I looked closer. Along with the grooves of age I saw dullness, uneven tone, drooping. Had it really been that long since I looked in the mirror?

Yes. It has. I don't look in the mirror, other than for the necessities (removing unwanted hairs, mainly). I've never really sat and looked at myself in the mirror or studied my face since I was young... ah... young... ugh... younger.

Wait. I am young. Yes, I'm 30, so what. That's not old (if you're 30). And yes, I have 3 kids, but they are still babies (I mean, the oldest can feed himself and the youngest is walking, but you know what I mean). And while I may not be as young as I used to be (why does that sound so much better than younger?), I am very young compared to how old I intend on getting. I want to look back on these years as my prime, the good old days, the best times of my life.

But I am 30, and I have 3 kids, and I ache now and then. And I have grooves on my face.

I smiled again. I saw crows feet sprouting from the corners of my eyes, which are still bright and blue. Okay, so these are from smiling. I can handle that. I also saw lines around my mouth, and when I smiled really big, I saw more. Okay, they can stay. The drooping skin under my eyes has a tint of gray to it and I remembered that the other night I was up every hour with my toddler. I've earned those bags under my eyes, and if my skin wrinkles under them too it's simply from my round cheeks that plump when I smile. I raised my eyebrows and did various other facial expressions. I came to the conclusion that those grooves are caused by sass, and that is definitely something I'm not giving up.

My face isn't the only place where my skin has lost the war against gravity. My stomach is now made of folded extra skin that was stretched during my 3 pregnancies. While I'm not exactly happy with it, I look at it and still see the big bellies, and I miss them. As for my boobs - yeah, motherhood. Plus side, no more bras (because it's uncomfortable when people eyeball you for spending too much time in the little girl under garment section). This is one thing I actually enjoy for the simple fact that there's nothing for gravity to take down.

It's no lie that I don't take care of my skin. I never have. I popped my zits. I used harsh cleaners. I used the wrong type of moisturizer. I didn't even get a facial until my (very) late 20's. I don't drink enough water. I abuse my skin. Given that, it's current state isn't surprising, so I really can't be upset about it.

Truth is, 10 year old, 16 year old and 22 year old me never really cared about my appearance that much. It is what it is. When I look at myself, I see a mixture of parts. My mother's hands, that know what it means to work for what you have. My father's eyes that are blue and sparkling. My grandmother's lips that are perfect for placing kisses on the tops of babies heads.

I stepped away from the mirror, turned off the light and left the bathroom. Within minutes, my mind was consumed with potty training, playing and making spaghetti for supper. I don't worry about what I look like. I don't have time. I have much more important things to tend to.

I am 30. I have wrinkles. And they are Beautiful.

Besides, if I have this much wisdom on my face at 30, I can't imagine how Beautiful I'll be at 60, or 80, if I'm so lucky. Especially if I keep smiling.

Sticks and Stones

I fear we've become a nation of spectators.

As I watched the news coverage last night on the indictment decision for Darren Wilson and the {appalling} coverage of the reactions that followed, I couldn't help but feel I was in ancient Rome, watching a captor fight off a starving tiger in a stadium packed with people.

We call this entertainment.

News media calls it a story.

Others see the opportunity to state their opinions, which are nothing more than feelings and interpretations displayed as facts. If you disagree, you're wrong. Enter the tiger.

Am I the only one aching today for our nation?

No, I refuse to believe that I am. However, I also know that when all the talk has settled, when the streets are brought back to order, when book deals are made and when media moves onto it's next "story," the wounds will still be there, waiting for suture.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.

This is something we tell children to deal with bullying. It doesn't matter what someone says to or about you, as long as they don't physically hurt you. Physical pain can be seen by everyone else, but the emotional pain that words incur, well, that's just all in your head, so keep it there. Let it fester and burn until it takes over and then one day you're the one with the sticks and the stones. Because words don't hurt, so what does it matter what you say?

As spectators, we believe this. We don't think of how we use our words. Their only priority is to get our point across and make it stick, regardless of the method or consequences. We are right because we said so. We feel comfortable using these words in this wretched way without every giving them the chance to do good.

Words are powerful, but we give them the power. However, in this nation of spectators, we've learned to fear power unless it is ours. If the captive with the tiger kills the tiger, what happens? Is the crowd silent? In awe? In fear? Have all their shouting done nothing to improve the ability of the tiger or diminish the perseverance of the captive?

Okay, you may think I've gotten off topic. And yes, to a point, I've sensationalized. Last night, watching the news coverage of the decision and the following riots, we were a nation of spectators. This morning, as the sun rises on the destruction, the spectating continues as people collect on their bets and discuss in detail what they would have done had they been there. Because there is just a place and not where people live, not where children are born and raised. It's just a place on our TV.

And after all this talking, we'll be left with nothing but an empty arena waiting for the next battle.

I, for one, left the arena last night. I turned off the TV, got off the internet (after a call to boycott all media), and I read a book. Was I burying my head in the sand? Readjusting my rose colored glasses away from all the negativity? Yes. I was. I am extremely passive aggressive and the amount of anger everywhere last night made me physically hurt.

So - what do I think? I never met Michael Brown, and I don't know Darren Wilson. I'm not a cop. I didn't grow up with a degrading stereotype against me. I'm not from St. Lois and I wasn't there on August 9, 2014. I also wasn't in St. Lois last night. I wasn't a member of the grand jury. I never saw any evidence. So what's my opinion on it all?

I'm sad. I'm sad for the entire situation, because it's happened before and it will happen again. There will be more news coverage and more riots. There will be more anger and more pain.

Smoke bombs and tear gas disperse crowds, but hate will always stand its ground.

I encourage everyone today, to think before speaking and to speak with reason. Do you agree with the decision? Yes or no? And then what? THEN WHAT? Do you throw a molotov cocktail? Burn down a building? You might think that seems silly, and out of context, it does.

Does that mean the riots and those who took part in it were silly? Hell no. Nor does it mean they were in the wrong. It is simply a nation acting out in anger. And now that we're done, it's time for everyone to put away their anger, roll up their sleeves, and get to work on fixing it.

And I mean everyone. Because this isn't about cops, the justice system, black people, violence or any other random words you can string together to form an instant stereotype. It's about us as a nation. Our nation has a wound this morning. Do we let it sit and fester, get infected? I'd prefer to fix it, clean up the wound and nurture it back to health.

My sticks and stones will break your bones because your words hurt me.

And after the sticks and stone and bones are all broken, then what?

Then what?

What I'm Teaching My Children About Thanksgiving

I couldn't believe it. There I was, standing in a home improvement store on November 1st, the day after Halloween, walking through aisles upon aisles cluttered with Christmas decor.

It was like a Christmas bomb had gone off. I could imagine the staff at 12:01am on November 1st, standing behind a safe barricade, detonating a tiny bomb. Tinsel, garland and sparkles fell all around in a flurry of fake snow. Bing Crosby's version of White Christmas echoed from the metal rafters. Plastic green trees popped up in rows, always perfectly round and fluffed, no messy turning to find the right side required. Ornaments hung in rows on displays, stockings made in China hung on plastic and cardboard fireplace mantels. "Tis' the Season" and plaques proclaiming "JOY" dotting the festive landscape. And let's not forget the giant inflatable Santa or his reindeer up top, waving to all the little boys and girls as they walk by with their want (I mean, Christmas) lists. Oh my, what a lovely sight to behold.

But I digress.

Because this isn't about Christmas.

Whoa. Wait, you say. This is the Christmas season! Halloween is over! Put together the tree! Hang the lights!

Slow your roll.

I took my son with me to town last night and was amazed at how many people had trees lit up in their large picture windows and balconies decorated with lights. My son, naturally, was very excited.

"Ooh, they're having Christmas! When will we have Christmas?"

I tried to explain that despite the decorations, music and ads on TV, that it wasn't Christmas yet. We would be getting our Christmas tree after Thanksgiving.

"Maybe they forgot about Thanksgiving," he innocently observed.

Yes, son, maybe they did forget about Thanksgiving.

This prompted me to ponder how I was going to teach my children about Thanksgiving, a valuable lesson that was so desperately needed in the wake of the Christmas explosion. But what was I going to teach them?

I'd grown up knowing that Thanksgiving was the beginning of the holiday season. It was a time for family to come together, to eat a great feast, to spend time together and to give thanks for all the blessings we've had during the year. It was about turkey and pumpkin pie and football and a warm house that smelled like cloves and laughter radiating from the kitchen.

After doing some research, I know what to teach my children about this "forgotten" holiday.

1) Thanksgiving is not an American holiday.
Celebrations of thanks can be found in almost all cultures and has happened long before the Pilgrims feasted with the Wampanoag tribe. Many cultures, including Egyptians, Greeks and Romans, would celebrate a successful fall harvest with a feast of giving thanks. There also wasn't just one Thanksgiving on a specified date each year, but whenever one was warranted. Usually, the feast ended some sort of fasting period due to limited resources.

2) Thanksgiving is a religious holiday for many cultures.
Who were people thanking for a successful harvest with this bountiful feast? Whichever god they believed in. It was truly a feast of giving thanks for all the hard work and good fortune that would allow them to sustain another winter or dry season, that would allow them and their children to continue living.

3) Thanksgiving has both political and economical aspirations.
Since English settlers first landed, versions of Thanksgiving were celebrated all over the colonies. It was typically in the fall to celebrate a successful harvest, or in the case of Puritans, whenever a feast of thanks was warranted. It wasn't until 1836, during the height of the civil war, that President Lincoln established Thanksgiving as the final Thursday in November. In his proclamation, he asked "all Americans to ask God to 'commend to his tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife' and to 'heal the wounds of the nation.'" (http://www.history.com/topics/thanksgiving/history-of-thanksgiving). 

In 1939, President Franklin Roosevelt changed the date to the third Thursday in November to stimulate the economy after the Great Depression. This was solely to lengthen the holiday shopping period, so next time you want to blame corporate American for the commercialization of Christmas, hold your tongue. At the time, this was met with much opposition, and the holiday was moved back to the final Thursday in 1941.

By today's standards, the last quarter of the year is what makes or breaks most businesses. Black Friday has become a holiday all it's own, and as evident by this year, the scratching for more "economic stimulus" starts earlier than ever. Stores are now open on Thanksgiving in order to make a buck, and those people working are lured by that same buck with holiday pay and other perks. After working for corporate America, I can tell you that no matter how much the company says it is volunteer, it's not. Not everyone is allowed to volunteer, and if enough volunteers aren't garnered from the promises made, then voluntary becomes mandatory. This is part of the reason I left the corporate world to raise my children full time and to teach them that chasing the almighty dollar will not guarantee a happy nor productive life. But I'm getting ahead of myself. 

Okay, now I'm getting a little cynical. While this is the season of economic growth, I do appreciate that it is still the season of giving thanks. It has also become the season of giving. These are the things I will teach my children.

I will teach them to give thanks for our harvest of carrots, potatoes and onions in the cellar, of apples, zucchini and tomatoes in the freezer. They will give thanks for all the firewood we have to keep us warm during the winter. They will give thanks for the clothes on their back and the roof over their heads. I will teach them to give thanks to the Soldiers and Veterans that gave us our freedom. I will teach them to give thanks to the farmers and ranchers that provide us food.

I will even teach them to give thanks for their ability to go to a shopping center and exchange money for items. However, I will then teach them to give back by giving said items to those that need them. I will teach them to give to others, not because they have enough, but because no one should go without. I will teach them to help others, and not just during this time of year, but all year round.

The actual holiday of Thanksgiving may be on the verge of being forgotten, but the idea doesn't appear to be disappearing with it. Thanks have been giving long before a nationally recognized holiday, and it's up to me to teach my children to continue with that idea.

"Maybe they'll celebrate Thanksgiving after Christmas," my son said, regarding the house that already had the Christmas tree shining in the window.

What a beautiful concept. Sounds like I'm on the right track.

{P.S. - And for those of you that already have your trees and Christmas decorations up or are already planning your Black Friday shopping agenda, by no means do I intend to wag my finger. If the history of Thanksgiving proves anything, it's that everybody has their own traditions. I promise to also teach my children this. If that is your way of celebrating the season with your loved ones, then please, continue those traditions.}

sources: Plimoth Plantation. Thanksgiving History. http://www.plimoth.org/learn/MRL/read/thanksgiving-history
History.com. History of Thanksgiving. http://www.history.com/topics/thanksgiving/history-of-thanksgiving

A Little Sunday Rant

There's a lot of negativity in the world, especially in the news. It's easy to display your opinion as fact and to become upset with those who have a different opinion. It's also easy to debate with others who simply like the act of debating, thus judging and belittling others, without any positive action potentially coming out of said debate. There are far too many that don't understand a world outside their own personal bubble, and even more dangerous, those that simply don't care to understand it. Have an open mind people, and before we start pointing fingers at "the government" or "the politicians" or those places and people on the other side of the country or the other side of the oceans, realize that those aren't *things* but people. We are all people, and we need each other. Seclusion can deteriorate and kill a species, and even though there are billions of humans on this earth, we are secluding ourselves in other ways. The very advances in communication that were meant to bring us together are now giving us reasons to cast each other out and segregate each other. We group people into categories and decide if we like them or not, if we will listen to them or not, if we will help them or not and if we will be nice to them or not. What we should be doing is realizing we are all in the same category. We are all humans, capable of thinking and feeling and acting. We all have valuable opinions that should be heard. We all deserve help in our time of need without any expectations of a return favor. We all deserve a smile and a "How are you today?" because that can make a difference. Anger is such an easy emotion. It's easy to feel, easy to justify and easy to act on. It's easy to use as a weapon. It's easier to talk about and to talk with, easier to debate on and way too easy to teach. It takes little time to be angry but a lot of energy, leaving us with the false feeling of accomplishment that we have done something productive, when we have really just helped destroy ourselves a little more. What's hard is to listen - the real listening, without the thinking in your own head of your own thoughts and own opinions and own response while the other person is still talking. It's hard to listen, to attempt to understand what the other person is saying, to ask questions to clarify what you don't understand. In a given conversation, how many times do you say the word "I"? Count them next time. Just by taking that word out of the equation can turn talking into a conversation. When was the last time you felt genuinely happy for someone, or gave them a genuine compliment? When was the last time you didn't talk about yourself but kept turning the conversation onto the other person - not just to do it, but because you actually wanted to hear them? And was it good news they were sharing, or was it something evoking anger, injustice, or sadness? I don't watch the news. It's depressing. I read the news, sometimes, but I'm careful of what articles to read. I used to Twitter, but it's an awful place full of disparaging (albeit witty) comments. I do use Facebook, a lot, because I have family and friends on there, and if I don't want to see something, I can choose not to see it. I do my best to surround myself and my family with good people, and I'm happy to report that there are a lot of them out there. There is ugly in the world, and I realize that a world with only beauty simply cannot exist. Without the ugly, how will we appreciate the beauty? How would we learn from the ugly in order to help future generations?

You can call me a hippie, delusional, or unrealistic. I agree with all of it. But it's not about me. It's about my children and how I am teaching them to see the world and other people. I want them to see more than the corn fields that surround their quaint little country town. I want them to look at the corn and know that there is a world out beyond them, a giant, beautiful world, full of joy and controversy, the good and the bad. I want them to know that their attitude has a lot of power and that it impacts others to a much greater extent than they realize. I want them to use that power for good and to make a difference where one is needed. And I want them to know they can make that difference without bringing others down, without waging a war, without stepping on their fellow humans as a sacrifice for the greater good.

Now if you excuse me, I'm going to put on my rose-colored glasses and go out and enjoy this beautiful life.

Chickens of the World

"If you hang out with chickens, you're going to cluck and if you hang out with eagles, you're going to fly." ~ Dr. Steve Maraboli

Wait... What's wrong with chickens?

This is one of those inspirational quotes that strikes me as a little odd. Before I start, here is my disclaimer: I've never heard of Dr. Steve Maraboli. I Googled him and checked out his information. I have nothing personal against him, other than questioning and disagreeing with a lot of things he says. If you are a fan, no judgements on my part. If his work is helping you, I'm very happy for you. If you're not a fan, I'm not about to jump on any sort of bandwagon. If you don't know who he is, Google him now and form your own opinion.

Again, this isn't anything personal against the good Dr. himself. I just tend to question things, and when I read this quote my first question was "What's so bad about being a chicken?"

The quote itself is misleading and leaves a lot of questions besides this first one. Question number two: what does "chickens" mean? Is chicken a metaphor for "normal" or mundane or stupid? If so, that would make the eagles "special" or exciting or smart? Clearly, there are two distinct and separate identities being compared here. I get the eagle part. Why a chicken?

Okay, so chickens are chickens. They peck at the ground, they eat, they lay eggs, the day is done and yadda yadda yadda. They spend their life in a weird chicken daze where time doesn't exist and the world is just strange and it's best not to ask questions so just peck at the dirt and be a chicken. Is that the kind of chicken we're stereotyping here?

But what if you are a chicken? Is the quote then saying don't be a chicken? Don't be the thing that you were born to be, change the one thing about yourself that you can't change? That's an odd twist of inspiration.

Question number three: what do chickens clucking have to do with eagles soaring? If a true comparison is going to be made, then chickens clucking should be compared to eagles whistling. Fun fact: eagles are actually pretty quiet, emitting series of high-pitched whistles or single, soft notes. In that true comparison, it would read "if you hang out with chickens, you're going to cluck and if you hang out with eagles, you're going to whistle."

Turning it the other way and the comparison becomes an eagle flying to a chicken... flying. Yes, chickens can fly, although most domesticated chickens can usually only manage small bursts of flight over fences. But chickens do fly. So wouldn't the comparison then be "if you hang out with chickens, you're going to fly and if you hang out with eagles, you're going to fly?" For some odd reason, this one makes a lot more sense to me than the original.

Question number four: am I supposed to want to fly? Is that the ultimate goal of this quote? Flying is cool. Learn to fly. Hang out with the eagles. You'll be awesome. If this is the main aspect of the inspirational quote, then the first part is kind of unnecessary. "Hang out with eagles and you will fly." Those eight words have the exact same impact as the original without stereotyping chickens and their clucking.

Which begs question number five: why the chickens? We can actually leave the chickens out of it all together. There wasn't any reason for them to be involved other than to compare them to eagles. Let's do a visual: picture a chicken standing next to an eagle. Yep. They are different. They evoke different feelings. For me, a chicken makes me think of a farm and the country life and self-sustainable living and those thoughts give me warm fuzzies. An eagle makes me instantly proud to be an American and gives me the ideology that I can accomplish anything I set my mind to. I don't see a chicken and an eagle side by side and think that I need to choose or that one is better than the other. I see a chicken and an eagle. I sure as hell don't see an inspirational quote.

I do get the whole point of it, however. Why settle for okay when you can be spectacular? Don't just sit around and peck at the ground! Spread your wings and fly like a fierce eagle! Unless, of course, you're perfectly happy sitting around and pecking the ground. Unless, let's say flying is quite your thing. Unless you really have everything you want in that pen on the farm and you're grateful to have it. I mean, other chickens probably want to fly, and they should, but that doesn't mean you have to be like them.

Which brings me back to question number one: what's wrong with chickens? Why is being a chicken such a bad thing? Why should anyone feel bad about wanting to be a chicken? Chickens are cool, too.

So whether you cluck like a chicken or fly like an eagle or waddle like a duck or howl like a wolf or think like a human, there is only one question you need to ask yourself: Am I Happy? If the answer is no, then change it. You can do that. You're in control of your own happiness, if not by action, then by attitude. Make yourself happy.

And if the answer is yes, then congratulations. Cluck on, my chicken friend.

The Feminist Club

Dress like a Woman. Act like a Lady. Think like a Man. Work like a Boss.

Think like a Man? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Think like a Man... pfft....

When did Feminism become a secret society? Either you're in, or you're out. You either are, or aren't. You're either a Feminist, or a Chauvinist.

Wait. First, do we even know what the hell we're talking about? Let's check the dictionary.

Feminist: advocating social, political, legal, and economic rights for women equal to those of men.
Chauvinist: a person who believes one gender is superior to the other.

(Let it be stated for the record that according to the definition, Feminists can also be Chauvinists. For now, we'll just put that little tidbit on the side.)

 So a Feminist wants equality with men. It's no secret that in America, women are not equal with men. In fact, in America, the perfect person is a white male (again, so as not to ruffle any feathers and start a different debate, let's just put this comment over on the side with the Feminist Chauvinists).  Women get paid less for the same work. We have fewer opportunities or have to work extra hard for the same opportunities. With all of this, we are expected to bear and raise children and run households just like our ancestors.

If you don't believe this is true, then you've become an expert at turning a blind eye. If you don't want to believe this is true, stop reading.

Women really are the superior sex. Yes, I am biased because I am woman. If you need to ask why (hint: do so with caution), my main point is that we can bleed for a week straight, once a month, and not die. We have the ability to grow another human being. ANOTHER HUMAN BEING. That comes from us. Not only that, but we can then nourish said human being with nothing but our own bodies in the form of milk. I, for one, am willing to take a pay cut in order to have those facts on my resume. You may take my salary, but you'll never take my biological awesomeness.

Does this make me a Feminist? Ha! I'm a Midwestern housewife. I spend my time raising my three babies, cooking, and cleaning. I've been barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen more than a few times. Does this make me the opposite of a Feminist? Is anyone else sick of hearing that word?

Almost every young woman, in the course of her life, will have to make a choice. Either children and family or career. I had to make the choice. I'd like to say that's why I'm not a doctor, but the truth behind that is that I'm not smart enough, dedicated enough or focused enough for a career like that. However, I knew that I wanted a family and that I couldn't have the best of both worlds, so I made a choice.

Now before I get any more eye rolls, I made a choice. This is not to say that every single woman has to either be a housewife or have a career. Most women have the career and children and do it all (I'd say this is another reason for us being the superior sex, but most men do this too). I knew that I couldn't do it all and have it all. It just wasn't in me. I have limited focus, and I had to choose where to put that focus. 

When I was working, the statement that started this whole little ditty was my motto. And I got a lot of flack for it but never really understood why. After working in a field where the upper tiers were primarily composed of men, here is my defense.

Dress like a Woman. Marilyn Monroe is quoted as saying "You're clothes should be tight enough to show you're a woman but loose enough to show you're a lady." How a person dresses says a lot about them. I like myself, so I want to dress myself to look nice. It just turns out that I also have hips and boobs and calf muscles that look awesome in heels. I'm a woman, so I'm going to dress like a woman and not have any shame in it. If a woman - scratch that - if a Person walks into a board meeting in sweat pants, no one will take them seriously. Put that person in business attire and people pay attention. Appearances matter, people, whether you have ovaries or not.

Act like a Lady. A lady is refined, polite and well spoken. She is quiet and knows how to get her point across without raising her voice. Being a lady is an art form. It doesn't mean you take any crap just because of your gender. It means you can give the crap back in tenfold and leave the other person wondering what just happened. Winston Churchill once said "Tact is the ability to tell someone to go to hell in such a way that they look forward to the trip." Being a lady is being chock full of tact.

Think like a Man. This is the one that gets all the Feminists our there blazing. Think like a Man. What the... No really. Think like a man. Try it. It's liberating. Why? They don't care about emotions. Okay, they care, just not in the same way women do. Scientifically, men and women are different when it comes to emotions. This isn't society talking, it's brain structure and chemicals. The statement simply means to take the emotion out of an equation. Look at the facts. When making a decision, a woman will take another persons emotions into consideration. Men generally don't, at least not to the extent that women do. I was best at my management job when I wasn't pregnant. I was able to take an unbiased approach and look at situations without crying. When I was pregnant and surging with hormones, everything was based on feeling. Not good.

Work like a Boss. Now we've all had that kind of boss that doesn't seem to do much work. These aren't the bosses we're talking about. We're talking about the kind of bosses that lead by example, that have worked their way into their position and not forgotten the journey. The ones that are first to roll up their sleeves and get to work. That is the type of boss we all should strive to be. Work like a boss means to work the hardest because you have the biggest plate of anyone to fill.

Women really are the superior sex. Maybe not in the corporate world or the political world or the financial world. Yes, we have to work twice as hard sometimes and make sacrifices. And that is why we are superior. We work twice as hard, we make the sacrifices, we take the pay cut and we keep going. We are women. We are resilient. We keep going.

Marilyn Monroe also said that "Women who seek to be equal with men lack ambition." Such a true statement on so many levels. We are not equal with men. We have the ability for so much more, and we show that in so many ways on a daily basis.

Am I a Feminist? A Chauvinist? Are they the same thing?

I am woman.

Now here me roar.

 



 

A Little Help From My Friend

Ever heard of premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD)? It's like PMS, only waaaaaay worse. Like, sit in bed and let your head spin around while green puke spews everywhere worse. Like, ugly cry because you're the worst parent on earth just because the grilled cheese got a little too dark worse. Or in my case, smash a perfectly good plate on the floor just because someone said "mommy" one too many times in that specific tone worse.

I joke (because it's a coping method), but seriously, PMDD is serious. It's not just regular PMS. Sure, all that fun stuff is also included. But then add a heaping teaspoon of psychotic with about a half cup of unstable emotions, put it all on a giant bloated roller coaster and watch the fun begin. If you want a scientific and actually information description, visit here: http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/premenstrual-syndrome/basics/symptoms/con-20020003.

Like I said, it's serious. Serious enough for me that I knew something was wrong, that freaking out on the kids for being kids was not just normal PMS. My mood swings were starting to impact my daily life. I didn't want to do anything. Literally. All I wanted to do was sit on the couch all day and watch TV - in silence, alone. By the way, I'm a stay at home mom. Silence and Alone are two words that have entirely vacated my vocabulary. I didn't want to feed my kids let alone play with them. I sure as hell wasn't about to put pants on and bring them to the library, of all places.

But that wasn't the worst of it. The violent outbursts were the worst. My son started acting them out, throwing his toys across the room and screaming over the slightest inconvenience. My daughter would run, hide and cry if I stood  up off the couch too fast. My husband would yell back and we would get into such heated arguments that I would declare I didn't want to be his stupid wife anymore. It was hell, and my family was paying the price.

It had progressively gotten worse. I could feel it. I could tell that this wasn't normal. I didn't want to be like this, but no matter what I did, I couldn't control it. I did an online search, found a few links for PMDD, took a few self-assessments and came to a startling yet comforting resolution: its not me, it's the hormones.

I wasn't a bad person, a bad mother or a bad wife. I had a disorder, one I couldn't simply control with positive thinking and willpower.

The exact cause for PMDD and PMS isn't known, but there are theories as to what some contributing factors might be. Had I always had this? Probably, to an extent, but never this bad. I'm thinking it has something to do with the fact that I've had three children and am nearing my 30s. That's just my theory, however.

I went to my doctor. I mentioned PMDD and how I have violent outbursts. The conversation pretty much went like this:

Me: I think I have PMDD. I've taken some self-tests and I have a majority of the symptoms.
Dr.: Well, it's normal to have mood swings with PMS...
Me: I throw plates.
Dr.: You need Prozac.

I stared at him. Wow. That was quick. In my research, certain anti-depressants were listed as a treatment option, but so were lifestyle changes and birth control.

Picking up quickly on my hesitation, my doctor explained that many studies have been done and that when it comes to PMDD and severe forms of PMS, only a low-dose form of Prozac (known as fluoxetine) has been shown to help. I asked about birth control, but he explained that the birth control fluctuates with the menstrual cycle, so it wouldn't help even out the mood swings.

I was hesitant - very hesitant. Prozac? An anti-depressant? I was one of those mothers? I imagined myself in a 1950s ensemble (complete with pumps and sunglasses), sitting on my deck with a long cigarette in one hand and a martini in the other. It's one in the afternoon while the children play in the yard. I would be oblivious to their wants and needs and go about my life in a drug-induced haze.

My doctor made it clear that it really was my only option, and that he didn't have any doubts that it was what I needed and that it would work. I trusted him. This is the man that had been with me through all of my pregnancies (including two miscarriages). He's delivered all three of my babies. He wouldn't tell me this if it wasn't what I needed to hear. And I'd rather have to pop a pill every day than have my kids live in fear of me and ruin their childhood.

So pop a pill I did. And after a week, I already notice a difference. True, it could have been the placebo effect and I was actually more calm because I was using this little white pill as a crutch. But the other night I read stories to my kids before bed. I mean, I wanted to read them stories before bed. Like, they told me no more stories mom, we're tired and want to go to sleep now. I hadn't done that in months. So even if it was the placebo effect, I was okay with it, and so were my kids.

I waited it out, since it usually takes 5-6 weeks to be fully effective. Forward to 6 weeks later. The yelling has decreased. I haven't slammed a door or thrown a toy or screamed so loud my throat hurts in at least three weeks. I have more energy. I have more focus. I see my kids now, hear them laughing and playing and giggling instead of just hearing noise that used to irritate me. I love my children all over again. I feel like the mother that I once was, that I always wanted to be, but this time with a reflection in the mirror instead of a guilt-trip in that scary little head of mine.

Do I still get angry, upset or lose my patience? Yes, because I'm a mom, not a robot. It hasn't turned me into a zombie like I feared. Not everything is seen through fuzzy rose-colored glasses. Some days aren't so good, but I have many more great days that not-so-good-days. At least now I feel like I have control over my emotions and actions. If I act out, it's because of me, and that's something I can fix.

I don't want to be on an anti-depressant and face all the stigma that comes with it. Am I crazy? Probably, but my friends and family already knew that. I'm still me, just a little better. A little brighter.

I've decided that I'm not going to be ashamed of it, which is why I'm writing this. My children and husband will thank me one day. The first rule of parenthood is to ask for help. So I did, because I needed help. I wanted help.

And I got it.

Note: Please, don't be ashamed of talking to your doctor about your emotions. We all want to be super parents, but caring for others all the time is hard on a person - physically, mentally and emotionally. If you feel angry or sad or violent, tell someone. 

To My Daughters For When Someone Breaks Your Heart

"I have looked at you in millions of ways and I have loved you in each."

Please, when you say this, I beg that you are looking at your own reflection and not some poor schmuck that you think will solve all your problems.

Love is real. Love is amazing. This morning I looked at your father and realized that even after 11 years and 3 kids and all the fights that I love him, that I am in love with him, probably more now than ever before.

But this saying does not apply to us, and I don't want you to grow up thinking that love is all unicorns and butterflies and some form of royalty on a white horse. I don't want you to think that your sole purpose in any relationship is to be wholly and entirely in love all the freakin' time. Because it's not.

Your role in a relationship is to love, yes, but by means of support and honesty and a deep caring for the other person's well being. You might not always like them. Hell, you might not always love them. And that's okay. Sometimes that will mean that it's over. Sometimes it won't.

Here's the secret that most people don't admit: they don't always love their partner. I've looked at your father before and not loved him. I know, shocking. In fact, there's been a level of despise, a level of "what the hell was I thinking?" There's been a wandering eye, but never a wandering heart. Because the simple truth of the matter is that we are better together. Not always great together. But I know that I am better when I am with him. He doesn't complete me, and he doesn't make life worth living, but I'd hate to live a life without him.

What I'm saying is, if you hinge your entire aspect of happiness on someone else or the idea of love, you will forever be continually disappointed. Be a willing participant in the throngs of love and all the amazing heart-skipping moments it can offer. But never, ever think that you are not worthy just because someone doesn't love you back.

Don't ever feel like you have to compromise yourself for the sake of love. Remember that you hold the cards. You make the decisions. What's right will be right and what ends up being wrong will be a powerful lesson. People will break your heart. You will end up making someone cry. Sometimes you will care. Sometimes you won't. Love is something that happens. There is no magical situation, no fairy godmother with a wand, no prince waiting for his princess.

There is you, a bright and beautiful human being, capable of giving and taking and feeling and kindness and above all, being smart about the human nature and forgiving of it's consequences. Fall in love. Fall out of love. Do it with grace or with a sickening bone-cracking thud. Don't be afraid of getting hurt or learning lessons, and don't be fooled by the sly creatures that prey on you.

Because when it happens, it will happen, slowly and all at once (to quote the infamous John Green). Most times, it will fade, but when the time comes, it will last. You will have your doubts, but at the end of the day, you will love. Love is about meeting the right person at the right time in the right circumstances and when you are in the right frame of mind. Love is scary, it's sad, it's angry. But it's beautiful.

Love is something you already have in you. It's a part of who you are. It's an ever evolving universe inside your soul. When you meet that person, you will end up loving their flaws, their quirks. You'll even love that they make you mad and will miss this when they are not around.

But before any of this can happen, you have to love yourself. Look at yourself in a million ways and love each and every one of them. Without this, love is not possible.

And never, for one split second, let anyone convince you that even one of those million ways is not worth loving.

All In the Details

Ugh.

UGH.

AAAGGGHHHHHHH!

It's been a rough day. One of those 'get in the car, go get a massage and check into a hotel room' kind of days. One of those days where every "do this" is followed by a resounding "NO!" and we've communicated primarily through demands, threats, yelling and slammed doors.

Ugh.

Why? Why don't they listen? Why don't they just do as I tell them? Why does there have to be tantrums and fits and screaming? Why? WHY?

Because they are people, not robots. They are not programmable. They are humans with brains and thoughts and ideas and feelings. I am raising children, not fixing problems.

Or, as today has been going, I am creating problems out of perfectly good children. Children, who, don't eat my food, don't clean up after themselves, don't say please or thank you and who aren't very nice to each other.

I set rules and boundaries. I make them well aware of the consequences and I follow through with them. I try really really hard not to lose my cool and I understand that talking and a hug goes much farther than a swat on the butt or a simple time-out.

So why do they hate me? Why? WHY? Why am I the "bad mommy?" If this were an office job, I'd be re-evaluating my career path and goals, and possibly cashing out my 401k and taking an extended vacation.

Maybe I just need to let go. Our little town is celebrating this weekend, and there are fireworks and an outdoor movie tonight. I totally want to go, but the kids have been - well, UGH - today. So I had decided that we weren't going and that it would be a lesson that only good behavior gets rewarded. And then I was thinking. When my son is 28, will he remember the time he got in trouble and couldn't go to the fireworks? That thought terrified me. I want him to remember going to the fireworks with me and his sisters and having an awesome time. That is what I want him to remember.

Okay, fine. We'll go to the fireworks, even though I've been threatening all day that we're not going and I've already given my son an ultimatum. Clean up the living room and your bedroom or we're not going. I told him that he has to earn it. Well, the living room is still messy. So I'll clean that up too. I'm too tired to fight and he clearly is much more stubborn than me. And I should probably give the bike back, too. I'd taken it away because he threw it on the ground in a rage. I told him that if he can't treat his things nice, he doesn't deserve them.

Ouch. Yeah, maybe that one was a little harsh. I mean, I get it. That's an important lesson. So is the lesson of good behavior = rewards. But he's 5. FIVE. Does he really need to understand these things right now? And is he really going to learn them from me taking things away when he doesn't do it when I haven't addressed it with him before? Yeah, I'm getting confused now. I can't imagine what's going on in his intelligent mind.

Clearly, the problem is me. I knew that, though. I want my kids to be responsible and well behaved people. When I tell my daughter not to sit on the table, I imagine her climbing on up at a restaurant. Funny though, she's never done that at a restaurant. She's only done it at home. So where does this worry come from? Actually, when my children are in public, they are perfect angels. The are quiet. They listen. They say things like "Good Morning" and "Thank You" and "Have a Nice Day." So what am I all upset about?

Am I upset about the fact that they are screaming at each other in the bedroom right now? I think it might be time for Mommy Earmuffs.

Ugh, this parenting thing is hard. Way hard. There's just so much pressure... so much, in fact, that I'm not enjoying it. I'm not okay with that.

I want my kids to have a great childhood. I want them to have great memories. But instead of being a part of and helping create those great memories, I'm more worried about their behavior being correct. 
Right now, my daughter is playing with her food, transferring the itty bitty pieces of rice from one bowl to the other and then onto her sister's tray (and the floor.) This bothers me because it's making a mess. She's practicing her motor skills. What kind of message does it send if I were to yell at her? Don't be messy? Don't play? Don't be your own person and do your own thing and touch and feel and learn and experience?

Great. Now she gave the baby a bowl of full rice. Looks like I'll be vacuuming... again...

Being a parent is truly a sacrifice. You sacrifice your body, your sleep, your sanity. You sacrifice everything that you are because you love these little people so much that when they scream at you all day you find yourself asking what you're doing wrong. I really am just making it harder on myself.

I am raising children, not fixing problems, and I refuse to create problems out of perfectly good children.

Maybe, just maybe, I need to step back and stop micromanaging - or programming - these beautiful little creatures. Maybe, beyond all reason, they will grow into kind, compassionate and caring people if I let them. Maybe, they already are these people, and I'm too close to the picture to see it.

{As I am typing this, my son is screaming and jumping on the couch like he's at a rave. I see the irony in this.}

Children are loud. They are messy. They break things. They are exhausting. I knew all this going into it. I have no right to be surprised or upset with the results.

I am here to listen to their loudness, to clean up their messes, and to carry them to bed when they fall asleep on the floor. I am here to support them, to answer questions, and to teach them what it means to be good. I am here to love them, with every detail that requires.

When you think about it that way, the job description gets a heck of a lot easier to deal with. Love them. This is the only requirement. Everything else is a detail. Everything else happens because you love them.

Sigh. Okay. Maybe I can do this.

A Response to the Supreme Court from an Educated Free-Thinking Modern American Woman

First, this is simply my opinion. In no way do I intend to state that my opinion is right, nor do I intend to imply that those with other opinions are lacking intelligence or are in some way wrong. Furthermore, if I have missed the boat on something or am really just not seeing things clearly, please feel free to correct me.

For those that haven't read any articles on this yet, I've included some links below. I tried to look for the most reputable sources, which was a lot harder than it should have been.

http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2014/06/30/326926331/companies-can-refuse-to-cover-contraception-supreme-court-says

 http://abcnews.go.com/Politics/hobby-lobby-wins-contraceptive-ruling-supreme-court/story?id=24364311

I believe a very dangerous precedent has been set in our country today. As a woman and a mother to two young daughters, this makes me afraid for the future of their rights. To be a little dramatic, our country has been set back about 75 years. That's 1938, I did the math.

My first point is that to me, this is not about religious freedom. I fully support the freedom of religion, and I agree with the Religious Freedom Restoration Act of 1993 that states the government not infringe on religious beliefs "unless that action constitutes the least restrictive means of serving a compelling government interest." I believe all people should be able to celebrate their chosen religion without fear of negative consequences. And yes, this means that if I saw a Muslim praying in my back yard, I would wait until he was finished and then offer him some coffee and cookies, dammit. It comes down to being a decent human being.

What I don't understand is how this can be considered a win for religious freedom when the companies in question are actually forcing their religious beliefs on their employees. As my husband said, then don't work there. Okay. Done. But the Supreme Court has said that this is okay. This is what scares me.

While the Hobby Lobby and Conestoga Wood Specialties Corp. do in fact have sincerely held religious beliefs (that is not in question), I wonder how long it will be before other companies miraculously have those same kinds of beliefs. I bet a few large companies are already drafting petitions to be included in this declaration so they simply don't have to pay for their employees' contraception. Where is the line drawn for which companies this applies to? How can you say yes to two companies and not others? When you brought treats into the classroom, did you bring enough for everyone?

My second point has to deal with the contraceptives themselves. For those that haven't read anything on this, the companies are not refusing coverage of all contraceptives but rather only four. These four types may have the effect of preventing an already fertilized egg from developing any further by inhibiting its attachment to the uterus. Given their religious beliefs, I completely understand why they would want to do this.

I understand it, but I don't accept it. A woman's decisions (good, bad or otherwise) are her decisions. Let's play a little game to prove a point.

Scenario 1: A young woman, after a night of drinking, sleeps with a man. Upon waking up, she realizes that no protection was used. Not even remembering the name of the man, she quickly heads to the drug store and picks up a Plan B pill. A few weeks later, she is reassured that she is not pregnant.

Scenario 2: A man and woman who are in a committed relationship wake up to find a broken condom. Having already decided that they are not ready for children, the woman takes a Plan B pill. Again, after a few weeks, they are relieved to know they will not be parents soon.

Scenario 3: A woman has unprotected sex with her husband. Unfortunately, this woman is also terminally ill. At the fear of having child that might not survive, she takes a Plan B pill.

So what do you think of these women? Do you view them differently? How do you feel about their experiences?

Trick question. Unless that woman is your daughter, significant other, friend or family member, your feelings don't matter and aren't necessary.

So why do these companies care what their employees are doing in their extremely personal lives?

My third point is that this debate over contraception is actually a symptom of a much larger problem we have in our country. I've heard horror stories about young people that didn't understand that sex leads to babies. We have sexual education in school, but it's clearly not doing jack crap. Sex in the United States is both taboo and sensationalized. We want to be sexy and sought after like celebrities and the rich. We have an incredibly hard time differentiating between sex and sexiness.

There is much debate about abortion and contraception and how we handle things after-the-fact. We are stuck in a reactive rut when it comes to sex. The biggest question we should be asking is What can we do to help decrease these unwanted pregnancies from even happening.

Offering contraceptives for free is a great start. Some women also need the health benefits of contraceptives and use it for this primary reason instead of preventing pregnancy. A more novel - and shocking - idea is to talk about sex. Sex leads to a number of things: emotions, diseases, and babies to name a few. Sex is tricky in this day and age and to not talk about it has proven to be detrimental. Instead of learning about sex from movies (because it never happens like that), we need to accept that we are a sexual country and deal with it accordingly.

If my son came home from high school one day and informed me he had impregnated a girl because he didn't know what he was doing, I would feel like I had failed him. Not because he got a girl pregnant, but because I didn't educate him on the emotions he was having and the consequences of those emotions being carried out in physical action.

This is not to say that simply talking about sex will prevent people from being irresponsible. That's where the contraception comes in. When it comes to abortion, that's a topic I'd rather not discuss (right now). However, if we can be responsible enough to use the knowledge we have without fear, we can greatly reduce the need for morning-after pills and abortions. And you can call me crazy, but maybe addressing the root cause instead of arguing with gavels and religious writings in hand all day might produce a little more progress.

I will be curious to see where this goes in the coming weeks and what impact it will leave in the coming years. I wonder if there will come a day when a woman as to decide where she wants to work based on their religious beliefs. This also doesn't just apply to Christianity either. Did you know that Conestoga Wood Specialties Corp. are Mennonites? This shouldn't matter, and the Religious Freedom Restoration Act of 1993 does not distinguish between religions. Does this mean that a company owned by a Muslim family can force their employees to participate in daily prayers?

Okay, maybe that's a little extreme.

Or is it....? Again, when the Supreme Court brought treats for the class, did they bring enough for EVERYBODY?

A Few Hours at a Time

Today is a (somewhat) typical day. I say somewhat because no day is really typical. You'd think that being a stay-at-home parent would mean that every day was the same, but it's anything but.

I just looked in the mirror. Bad idea. Haven't showered since Sunday night. Seriously. I haven't found enough energy and time coinciding to shower in the last 52 hours. I had planned on doing that this morning at 5am (my "normal" bathing time), but all three kids came down with a massive head cold and I was room hopping all night. I'm lucky only one of them ended up in bed with us and kicking me in the face.

I've been up for an hour and a half and am just now sitting down to eat breakfast. Breakfast for me is a loosely applied term referring to food that is eaten in the morning. Today it is toast with butter, cinnamon and sugar. If I am lucky, I'll get to finish both slices of bread before the kids' radar goes off and they realize I am sitting down and eating. Even though they already had pancakes this morning, mom's food always seems to be on the menu.

My coffee, which was poured about an hour ago, is cold, but I'm drinking it anyway. Filling my cup with a warm liquid would for sure instigate some sort of crisis that would only let it sit on the counter for another hour.

And then it happens, just as I predicted. I hear a sound, so I get up to check it out. My daughter has once again broken into our bedroom and dumped all the cat food into their water, then dumped it on the floor. This is becoming a weekly routine despite the time-outs, taps on the butt and locked doors (she's a master lock-picker at the age of 2). I get up and scold her, then close and lock the bedroom door - again. She follows me out to the kitchen and having used her spidey-sense, realized I was in the process of eating - without her! How dare I! I must now share my food or face the consequences.

Wait, what's that she keeps saying? Is that the world "pee?" Yep. Sure is. Underwear are soaked. Time to change, the first time of many today, I'm sure. She's potty training and some days are good, but some are bad. I yell at her to get off the table, with her pee soaked pants and all.

Oops, turns out the pee-soaked pants were also full of poop.

Meanwhile, the baby is still sitting in the high chair, full of pancake and ready to evacuate. Since I am obviously busy cleaning up poop, the baby starts to scream for my attention.

And of course, right on queue, the guy is here to fix the windshield on the truck. As I close the door behind me to lock out the screaming kids, I notice that he won't make eye contact with me and my greasy hair.

Back inside, I clean up the toddler and get new pants on her, clean up the baby and the high chair, and let my son go over to the neighbors to play (and by let, I mean ushered out the door with an enthusiastic wave of my hands).

For one spare moment, all the kids are clean and the house is quiet. I plop down on the floor with my two girls, who are innocently playing with their dolls. The giant stuffed bear is making an excellent pillow and I close my eyes for a moment. It's 9:30am. I've been awake for 2 hours and I'm exhausted. I have another 12 hours to go. I have dishes, laundry and dirty floors calling my name, not to mention my stinky B.O. which is even starting to bother me. But for one quiet moment, I lay down and try not to concentrate on my back pain or to do list. Instead I watch my girls play and realize how happy they are.

This. This one moment makes it all worth it.

And in just a few moments, the next round of chaos will start, and I'll still be exhausted but I'll be ready and I'll handle it because I can.

{By the way, if this blog keeps any of you from either coming to visit or from letting your kids play with my kids, I understand and I take no offense to it. We really should be out in the middle of nowhere and sequestered from society.}

Tolerance v. Acceptance

Before I state my opinion on something, I generally like to know what I'm talking about. Making rash decisions and statements leads one to not consider all the facts and viewpoints and turn out to sound uneducated, naive and intolerant.

There's that word again: intolerant. I've heard that word, and it's derivatives, a lot lately. There are a lot of issues plaguing our country these days; abortion, gun laws, gay rights, the government in general. Those that stick hard and fast to their ideals and opinions on such matters are seen as intolerant. Those that don't have strong statements on these matters (or those that don't feel the need to share them all the time), are seen as accepting, passive and really just not caring.

For a long time, I've thought that tolerance and acceptance were the same thing. I was actually searching for a quote about tolerance when I found one that stated they weren't. This got me thinking. What is the difference between tolerance and acceptance?

Of course, I turned to the dictionary for the answer. Here is what I found.

Tolerance:
noun

1. a fair, objective, and permissive attitude toward those whose opinions, practices, race, religion, nationality, etc., differ from one's own; freedom from bigotry.

2. a fair, objective, and permissive attitude toward opinions and practices that differ from one's own.

3. interest in and concern for ideas, opinions, practices, etc., foreign to one's own; a liberal, undogmatic viewpoint.

4. the act or capacity of enduring; endurance: My tolerance of noise is limited.

Acceptance:

noun

1. the act of taking or receiving something offered.

2. favorable reception; approval; favor.

3. the act of assenting or believing: acceptance of a theory.

4. the fact or state of being accepted or acceptable.

 

In short, tolerance is a fair and objective attitude towards something outside your own opinions. Acceptance is the approval and belief in those opinions. It is also worth noting that both of these are nouns, meaning they are things and not actions. We have the capability, and the choice, to turn them into actions.

This all boils down to what I'm going to teach my children and how I guide them in interacting with this world. Given that goal and after doing some diving to make sure I'm using all the knowledge I have, I know what I'm going to teach them.

Tolerate the opinions. Accept the person.

There is a reason there is distinguish here between the opinion and the person. At first, I thought this was an all or nothing deal. If you don't accept the opinions, you can't accept the person. Then I started thinking about all my friends that have different viewpoints than I do on a number of issues. Yet these people are still my friends. Why? Because they are good people. They have qualities that I admire, that I gravitate toward and that are symmetrical with the qualities I'd like to think I have. Why would I let a silly little thing like a difference in opinion keep me from missing out on such a wonderful person?

There's another word that has significance: person. Being a person is important. The literal definition of a person is a human being. It doesn't distinguish any other characteristics. You simply have to be human to be a person.

In true fashion, an opinion is a personal view. It's a view made by a person, one formed for many reasons. People have opinions because of the type of person they are.

So then how in the hell are we supposed to separate the person from their opinions?

That's where tolerance comes in.

People have opinions for their own personal reasons, and as another person, we have no way of completely understanding those reasons unless we were to live life as that person, or be that person. Likewise, another person will never have a 100% accurate understanding of your own personal viewpoints and opinions. Another way to put this is another definition of opinion: a belief or judgment that rests on grounds insufficient to produce complete certainty. There is no right answer when it comes to an opinion.

So why lose sleep and be upset about a different opinion? And why try to make our opinions into fact or become upset when others don't treat them as such? By pure definition, an opinion can never be proven.  

Yes, there are sources that people base their opinions on, and people regard these sources as facts. While it's not necessarily false that these sources are fact, it all comes down to how the person interpreted those facts, again, based on their own personal beliefs. Two people can read the exact same scientific article and have two completely different opinions. The highest compliment of humanity is those two people being able to discuss the article, share their different views, and walk away as friends without any judgement or ill feelings towards each other. 

Sadly, this hardly happens. On the brighter side, if this did happen all the time, we would make no progress. That's about as fine of a line as one can draw.

What this really all means is that I will teach my children the following:

1. Educate yourself. Form your own opinions and make sure you have them for the right reasons.
2. Protect your opinion and stick to it. If you have all the facts, this shouldn't be hard.
3. Understand that an opinion is never right or wrong, even yours.
4. Tolerate others opinions. Listen to them without judging. 
5. Accept that there are other opinions in the world and that this is part of what makes it such a beautiful place.
6. Understand that a persons' opinion does not directly reflect on them as a person. A person is a person. This doesn't mean you have to like everyone, but have enough courtesy to stay away from those you aren't very fond of.

In short: Tolerate the opinions. Accept the person.

My greatest hope is that my children will listen, not just to me, but to themselves and to others around them. With that listening, I hope they will learn from themselves and others. The result would be that they will be able to think for themselves without demanding that others think like them, or worse, demeaning others that don't.

After all, we're all just people with our own opinions trying to survive in this wonderful world.

Big (Food) Love

I went to the store the other day. I know I did. I bought food. I promise. Yet once again, we seem to be out of everything and are on the verge of starvation (that little added drama was for my husband. Love you honey!).

We are a family of 5. I could break that down and let you know that it's 2 adults, a kindergartener, a toddler and an infant. However, that doesn't really matter. That would imply that the children eat less - an assumption I had with my first child. On the contrary, as any parent will tell you, the kids eat the most in the house.

When we had one young child, we could spend $50 at the store a week and be perfectly fine. That bill is now up to about $120, something that is still pretty darn good in the grand scheme of things. What we spend money on has changed as well. Did you know that a gallon of 1% milk is about $3.50? Or a dozen eggs is about $1.80? These are things I consider necessities, and they hardly go on sale. Fruit is also expensive and rarely has sales.

And that's just food. Add in diapers ($20 for a box of about 100, not bad when you break it down), wipes ($5 for about 120, still, not bad), and clothing (a pair of jeans for my son, who is 5, can easily be $20), and well, you can see how watching finances with kids can lead to drinking (FYI, a 12-pack of beer is about $13).

But this article isn't to complain about the price of food or anything else. I'm not looking for nor offering advice on how to save some money. The prices are as they are and in the end we need these things so why worry about the price. My point is the sheer volume of what we need to sustain a family of 5.

Here's an example of a typical grocery list for our home:

Milk - 2 gallons - 1% and whole (which probably won't last until the end of the week)
Eggs - 2 dozen
Bagels - 2 (these always seem to be on sale)
Bread - 1 loaf (in case I don't feel like baking bread, which is a common feeling)
Yogurt - 1 tub of either vanilla or plain (may not last the week)
Applesauce - 1 large jar of natural (may not last the week either)
apples - 3 (won't last the week)
bananas - 1 bunch, about 5 (won't last the week)
oranges - 3
onion
green peppers - 3
tomato
asparagus, leafy vegetable, carrots, etc - if on sale. If not, maybe next time.
pineapple, watermelon, other melons, assorted berries - if on sale.
shredded cheese - 1 bag, more if on sale
butter - 1 lb. (if needed), more if on sale
sliced cheese - 1 pack, about 16 slices, more if on sale
tortilla shells - 1 large pack
assorted pasta - 2 boxes, more if on sale
pasta sauce - 2 jars, more if on sale
spaghetti noodles
ground beef - 2 lbs, more if on sale
chicken breast - 16 oz, more if on sale
steak - 1 lb, more if on sale
cereal - 1 box, ONLY if on sale
baby food - about 10 - 15 jars ($.89 a piece, not bad but it adds up)
diapers - 1 box size 5 and 1 box size 3 (a big box like listed above lasts about 2 weeks)
frozen corn - 1 bag
mixed frozen vegetables - 1 bag
misc. frozen vegetables - if on sale
chicken nuggets - 1 bag (won't last the week, favorite food)
frozen pizza - 1 (will be eaten that night)
frozen waffles - if on sale
snack crackers or pretzels or something similar for the kids - what's cheapest or on sale

This is just a basic list of things we get pretty much every time we go. There is more depending on what our menu is for that week or what we're out of (syrup, oatmeal, peanut butter, etc). I also look for sales and if I see something that looks good, I'll buy it (like Go-Gurt or items from the all-natural aisles).

That's a lot, right? I mean, I'm not just going a little crazy, right? We plant a garden every year and have been consistently refining our storing methods, so hopefully this fall we'll have tomatoes, potatoes, green peppers, onions and maybe peas for green beans or corn that we can keep and eat during the winter. We also have an apple tree so I can make applesauce. Still. You can't grow Cheerios and while I wouldn't mind have chickens, my neighbors would.

It's such a wonder to me that I come home from the store with a trunk full of groceries and struggle to find a place for everything, only to open the pantry door a  few days later and start a grocery list all over again. The worst part is that my kids are growing, meaning they'll be eating more. It will be interesting to see how many gallons of milk we have in the fridge in 10 years when our kids are 15, 12 and 11.

And then there's preparing all this food and worrying about healthy snacks and balanced meals for a growing family of 5. But that's another post for another day.

I guess, all in all, there is really only one conclusion to all of this: I need a bigger kitchen.