Beyond the Diapers and Spills

Lone Black Woman

2012-01-05T13:13:00.001-05:00

I’m driving through my neighborhood with my daughters. At a distance, we see three people walking toward us.

“Girls – black people,” I say.

Two seconds later, I say, “Oh, that’s just the Jantranias. Correction girls – brown people.” (The Jantranias, who are our friends, are Indian.)

My eleven year old asks, “Why’d you say ‘black people’ Mommy?”

My sixteen year old and thirteen year old know why. They are aware of the limited amount of black people in our neighborhood and county; my youngest has yet to notice these things.

Lone Black Woman, hereafter known as LBW, derives her title from the phrase, “I was the only black person there,” something that she’s said many times in her life, especially during her twenties. As she matured, she didn’t feel the need to say it anymore because it began to have little or no relevance.

Still, at 54, she notices, but doesn’t care. If she is uncomfortable somewhere (which is rare), it is because of the culture of the environment; not because she is LBW. But even so, her discomfort doesn’t last long if she is unfamiliar with the topic being discussed or the activity going on. She will ask questions. People love to talk about themselves.

The LBW title was born when she wrote an email to an author that resulted in an exchange of fairly lengthy emails. For some reason that LBW may never remember, she let the author know that she was the “lone black woman” in her book club. The author was an Obama supporter at the time, and it may have stemmed from her wondering about LBW’s political views.

LBW wrote to another author whose speaking engagement she went to. Because of the limited amount of people who were at the reception after he spoke, she felt that he’d remember talking to her; especially because he also posed for pictures with her and her husband. In her email, she described herself as LBW – and he remembered her.

Both authors were kind and indulgent to “Author/Book Signing Groupie.”

It’s been said to stay away from topics of race, religion and politics when you want to play it safe. I’ve talked about my race here; however, this post isn’t necessarily about race. It’s more about being secure enough to relate to people as people.

How often are you the lone (fill in the blank)?

Examples: male, female, Jew, Muslim, Catholic, person without children, old person, young person, person without a college degree, southerner, northerner, heavy person, thin person, married person, unmarried person, etc.

Is it ever uncomfortable or a problem?

Like my image? LOL
Photographed by me.

Text Messages and Emails

2011-11-28T12:28:00.000-05:00

I text with sentences made of words that can be found in the dictionary. I email with paragraphs. I like the written word; the old fashioned way of writing. I like it better than the new, abbreviated language that uses idk instead of I don’t know, and k instead of okay or ok.

However, I’m open to it – this new written language. In the scheme of things, it’s hardly on my list of worries. I’ve even succumbed to dropping a word or two; like when I say, Glad you’re fine, instead of, I’m glad you’re fine. Also, LOL (laugh out loud) and :) (a smile) have become staples in my correspondence. Hmmm…

What I do mind, though, is the possible lack of clarity and emotion in a text message or email. Misunderstandings, mix-ups, and mouth-dropping reactions due to those few words transmitted from one techy device to another, have happened to me, and probably to you, too. Sometimes the true meaning and intent is not conveyed and that’s a problem.

Once, my husband and I missed an opportunity to have dinner with another couple because I didn’t check my email a lot during that particular day, and I didn’t get the invitation. In the past, I’d told my new friend that emailing was the best way to reach me and she took it literally. She probably thought I didn’t like being burdened with answering my phone, so she didn’t call. Oops.

Another time, I cancelled an appointment because I assumed my husband was too busy to go. He’d emailed earlier saying he had meetings all day. His second email, a half hour later, said he was available for the appointment. Too late. Oops.

A texting faux pas happened when I missed seeing an old friend while visiting the city she lives in. I hadn’t seen her in eighteen years. We did exchange phone calls, but because of the long distance from our hotel to her home, my family’s touring plans, and her schedule – the meeting did not happen. Sooo… she sent me a text that lasted three or four screens, basically telling me how selfish I am; at least that’s the way I took it. Because it was a text, I don’t know if her tone was supposed to be sad or mad or something else. It felt a little biting to me and as a result of that text - I’m done with her. Big oops – hers… or maybe not an oops. Maybe that was her message to tell me that she was done with me.

...which reminds me: opening a text or an email can be risky. You think you're getting a pleasant or informative note, only to read something that can ruin your day.

I’ve noticed that people use texting and emailing as a way to avoid direct confrontation. They don’t want to see each other or to hear each other’s voices. They use short, abrupt messages to correspond. Is this taking the easy way out? What are the consequences?

We’ve come a long way from the one black phone in the house and the 5 cent stamp we used to mail our five page letter. Computers, cell phones, and social media allow quick access to anyone in the world. Are our brains wired to keep up with it all? Have our social skills suffered as a result?

What are your feelings about emailing, texting, and other social media?

PS. I'm not giving up texting or emailing. :)

Image from Microsoft Word clipart.

Panhandlers

2011-11-01T13:25:00.003-04:00

To give, or not to give: that is the question.

Okay… So I’ve borrowed some Shakespeare and changed a couple words.

What do you think when you see someone begging? Do your thoughts vary based on their physical appearance (clothing, race, gender, grooming, age, etc.), their location, and/or their method of begging?

----------

Vacationing in Atlanta, my husband and I decide to ride the MARTA from our airport hotel to downtown. I want another “vacation experience;” to see what Atlanta’s public transportation is like while getting a look at other parts of the city.

Also, I think it’ll be good for our kids. Seeing life outside of the suburbs is always an opportunity to add another page to their sheltered little lives. They’ve been to a few other large cities and found each to be different. Now we’re going to take on Atlanta. After all, they may go to college in a large city or live in one as adults.

So what should happen while riding the train…

A young man appears from somewhere, walking the isles asking for money. I watch the face of a seasoned rider to see how she will handle him. She never looks up; and not in a nervous way, but with body language that says, “Just keep on walking.”

I say to myself, “If he comes over to me, that’s what I’ll do.”

Five seconds later, he is standing over me as I sit dressed in my tourist outfit, laced with a camera bag over my shoulder.

“Got any change?” he asks in a voice that is mild, yet frightening.

I want to ignore him, but can’t manage the attitude of the seasoned woman rider. Sooo… I look up into his eyes, quickly, and shake my head softly from side to side without saying a word. He moves on.

Fortunately, he does not approach my children who are sitting in another seat. I don’t know what my fifteen year old, “I love my cushy life,” daughter would have done. She probably would have broken out in tears and called for her mommy and daddy… or fainted.

There were lots of jokes about this experience later in the day.

----------

For at least six months, a woman has been sitting at the entrance of a shopping center near my home; the strip mall type. Her chair looks like a turned over bucket, and there appears to be a purse or backpack alongside it. Her hair is pulled back. Her attire is sweat pants and a tee shirt. Her complexion is normal and she looks well fed. If I saw her in Walmart, she’d fit right in. I’d never know that she begs on the street.

The first time I see her, my mind tells me she’s a mother; maybe even a wife with an unemployed husband – though I really have no idea. As I pull up to the intersection, the traffic light is red. I give her a few dollars. I say, “God bless you.” She responds with a smile and a sincere (or well performed), “Thank you, God bless you.”

The next time I see her, the light is green. “Good,” I think. I don’t have to make eye contact or purposely avoid her.

I travel this road often and see her a lot. I’m beginning to harden, and I don’t know why; not feeling as sympathetic. I don’t want to ride past her. When I have to be in the shopping center, I remedy the situation by leaving at another exit.

A friend and I briefly discussed this woman. We call her the Barnes and Noble Lady because the well-known book store is at the shopping center near her post. My friend’s husband thinks she should only give food to panhandlers; not money. B&N Lady has this covered though, because she leaves her food bag in a visible spot, as if to say, “I don’t need any more fast food.”

My husband, on the other hand, has a giving nature, and will hand over the occasional $5 bill. I’m more of a one or two bucks person.

I’ve heard so many opinions on this subject over the years; some strongly against giving. After reading a book in 2010, a true story titled, Same Kind of Different as Me (thank you Simone), I was fascinated to learn a few tricks of panhandlers to get people to give them money. The homeless man in the book, Denver, was a heavy drinker and used some of his money to buy alcohol. Reading his life story, though, it is no surprise that his journey was one struggle after another.

There are always going to be poor people; and just as there are among rich people, many will be addicts. Whether an addict or not, panhandling appears to be a hard and humiliating job. I don’t know if it’s right or wrong to hand over a dollar or not? Does it matter?

What do you think?

The sightings of the woman panhandler took place during the summer. I have not seen her since.
Thank you T. K.
image found here

Embarrassing Incidents

2011-10-12T18:38:00.001-04:00

My daughter and I are in Target at the register. There’s a problem with my item, so we move aside to wait for a Target Team Member to go and check the price.

Meanwhile, I hear a man behind us speaking with “a tone” to the woman at the register. Then I hear her use “a tone.” My ears perk up, and so do my daughter’s, as we try to figure out what the disagreement is about.

Apparently, the customer has placed his money on the conveyor belt - several crumpled bills - and the cashier is asking him to straighten it out and pass it to her.

“Why can’t you pick it up?” he asks.

“Because you need to count it,” she replies. “And, you’re being disrespectful.”

“No, you’re being disrespectful. The customer is always right.”

Blah, blah, blah… for almost a minute. His poor little daughter is embarrassed, saying, “Please Daddy, let’s go.”

Reluctantly, he picks up the money, straightens it out, and hands it to the cashier.

He loses. Target Team Member wins.

Mallory and I are looking at them from the corners of our eyes, feeling a bit awkward. I feel like I’m on that ABC show, What Would YOU Do? I want to tell him, “You’re wrong,” but he might attack me, too. Sooo… I mind my own business, i.e. wimp out. It’s a minor incident. Perhaps he’s just having a bad day.

I’ve had my own share of embarrassing incidents…like this one:

I’m at McDonald’s. “Mama Bear” is trying to buy and feed her “three hungry cubs” some chicken nuggets. The manager has to get involved in my transaction. She’s grouchy and I’m tired. She says something to me about the problem. I express disagreement, and then ask her to explain. She gives me a nasty look, we exchange a few stern, but quiet words, and she walks off.

Then I realize - customers are staring. I want to say, “I’m right…right?” Instead, I leave with my over-priced chicken nuggets.

Embarrassing. I go through this for what probably amounts to a dollar.

Embarrassing incident #2:

I’m in Bloomingdale’s at White Flint Mall in Rockville, Maryland. It’s 1980-something and I’m twenty-something years old. Dressed in my wide lapelled business suit of the decade, I approach a sales person; “Where’s the bathroom, please?”

“The restroom is over there,” as she smiled (or was it a smirk) and pointed.

“The toilet or whatever,” I respond with a smile; letting her know that I realize she is correcting me.

Embarrassing. Ever since then, I always ask where the restroom is, and remember my lesson in sophistication. Thank you sales person.

Embarrassing incident #3:

My family and I are at a hotel outdoor pool when nature summons me to the restroom. I dart off, get inside and realize that I’ve forgotten my flip-flops. (I know…you’re already saying, “Ugh.”) It’s an urgent, “gotta go” run because I decide to go in the stall barefooted. It’s a well maintained restroom, but still…ugh!

Midstream, I hear a woman telling her young daughter how gross it is to be barefooted in a public restroom; saying it as if it’s just some random conversation, and not about the tacky woman in the stall.

Lesson: never forget flip-flops.

Last embarrassing incident (in this post)

It’s the 1980s again and I’m young. (Notice how I blame everything on youth.) I’m new to the corporate world, sitting in a meeting of about eight people. A word is used by the team leader and I ask what it means.

All eyes turn to me.

The older male, patronizingly, gives the definition to the ditsy recent college grad.

Lesson: never ask the definition of a word you should know in the presence of people who are not your friends.

These incidents, and many more, made me ask myself, “What was I thinking?” Was it a PMS day? A sinus headache day? Or just a fallible human being day?

I suppose an incident will come out of hiding and into my memory on occasion; however, I’ve learned to be over it; to add a little self-deprecating humor to it, and move on.

Care to share an embarrassing incident of yours?

image from http://www.wpclipart.com/

How Big Is Your Purse?

2011-09-20T12:01:00.001-04:00

Darling Husband gave me a purse as an anniversary present; though it can hardly be called a purse. It’s big!

(By the way, do you say handbag, bag, purse, pocketbook, or something else?)

It’s big for me, but probably not for most of you fashionistas out there. The current trend appears to be humongous, and many women are totin’ those babies.

I, on the other hand, have stuck with my 12”x 8” purse (if you’re measuring the surface of one side of it) with a 2 1/2" base, for two reasons:

1) Anything heavy on my shoulder too long, eventually becomes uncomfortable. I don’t think it’s bursitis. That’s what my mom complains about. Hmmm... Also, I hang it on my right shoulder; never the left. Am I going to end up lopsided, if not already?

2) The more space I have in my purse, the more everyone expects me to carry their stuff in it. Why is that? Why do my daughters have their own purses, but leave them home most of the time, then ask me to put their wallets, hair accessories, cameras, and small purchases in “my” purse? (Not the cell phones, of course.) Darling Husband has been known to ask, too. And by the way, why don’t men carry purses?

I digress.

Anyway, when I opened the present and saw the size of it, I hoped that it wouldn’t be heavy because I really need a new black bag. I was reminded of an infant car seat, with an ergonomically correct handle, that we bought for our first baby in 1995. “It’s not too heavy,” I’d said, forgetting that the seven pound baby would be added.

I picked up my new purse. It was heavy – empty and heavy. Then, I noticed the brand name – expensive. Darling Husband is very sweet and generous to a fault. Frugal Wife decided not to spoil the moment by asking the price and going into sticker shock.

After a few days, reality told me that my 2.6 pound (empty) Dooney & Bourke handbag will be going back to Macy’s, where it will be purchased and filled by someone else who will end up with shoulder bursitis.

I’ll still get my new black purse, though. Maybe, I’ll graduate to one that is 13” x 9" with a 3" base.

Thank you Darling Husband.

My third “by the way” – If I've mislead you... My spaghetti arms are deceiving to some; but the old girl can still flip a king size mattress.

What is the size of your purse and what do you carry in it?

Old Eggs Can Produce

2011-09-04T16:39:00.004-04:00

"Your eggs are old."

This is what my mom told me in 1994 prior to leaving for my honeymoon; and again, during the first month of my marriage.

Mom and I have the kind of relationship where we can say things like this to each other. It's our attempt to add humor to subjects that are sometimes stressful.

Anyway, I won't go on and on about what happened to my eggs. Instead, I'll direct you to Cynthia's blog, "InSeason Mom." Click HERE to read my answers to a great set of questions composed by Cynthia. She and I, and many others had the so-called "old eggs" situation in common. She has also interviewed a few other women. It's the beginning of a sincere, informative, and thought provoking series.

While I've injected a little humor in this post, I am fully aware of the heartbreak that many women and men suffer in dealing with infertility. To you, I wish continued hope, success in any medical attention sought, and peace in making decisions about the future of your families.

Vacation: Let's Relax or Let's Go!

2011-07-24T21:27:00.001-04:00

How do you spend your vacation, or as they say across the pond, your holiday? How do you handle everyone's wants and needs?

Example: My family - a mom, a dad, and three daughters (a tween and two teens). We're on a spring break, "tourist-type" vacation in Atlanta, Georgia.

It's 6:30 a.m. My bladder alarm is ringing. No need to get up, though. Everyone else is in their second round of REM. I decide to "hold it" and to go back to sleep. Besides, where can I go? We're staying in one room; not a three room suite, complete with kitchen, that we sometimes get. The only other "room" is the bathroom.

Okay... I "can" go to the fitness center, but...

Now 7:30, my hunger alarm is ringing. Lucky to be staying on the concierge level, complimentary breakfast is available in the lounge for guests on my floor. It ends at 9:00, sooo... I do a quick wash of the face, hands, and teeth; check out the hair to make sure it's not too scary, and off I go with Nook in hand.

At 8:45, two of the natives (my kids) are coming through the doors of the lounge. Having missed this treat on day 1 of the vacation, they realize the value of getting up for the free breakfast, because it will be much later before we can all be ready to leave the hotel.

After eating, the girls take a plate of goodies to their daddy and sister; this way we all have a bite to eat, which lessens the chance of grouchiness visiting our room.

For the next two hours, the girls and I shower and dress. The husband goes for his walk, reads the paper, has his coffee, reads his email, answers his email, and makes a few phone calls. "Why rush?" is his attitude. He's been known to say, "I'm on vacation, plus you all are not ready. It only takes me fifteen minutes to shower and dress."

The girls are thinking the same thing, "No one else is ready."

Except me.

Sooo... I straighten the room, map out the plans for the day, go to the lobby to mail my postcards, watch the planes take off from the airport, etc. - anything to keep from just sitting and waiting.

When we "do" get out, we're hungry again, so we have to schedule a lunch within our touring time. With museums and attractions closing at 5 or 5:30, we get to see one per day, or we shorten each visit and see two.

Some of you may ask, "What's wrong with that? You're having family time, lounging in a hotel, and eating in restaurants. And, you get to do something fun during the day.

True.

BUT, want to see as much as I can!

Okay, so I'm whining... just a little.

On many of our "touring" vacations, this has been the pattern; except for our visit to New York City, where I emerged victoriously. I made everyone get to breakfast early and had them out of the hotel soon after. Was it the excitement of New York that put a little pep in our step?

I think I'll always be antsy when I'm ready to go and no one else is; however, I'll always be appreciative and delighted, too, regardless of when I get "there" and of how much I see.

The beach trips are a story for another time.

Are you traveling out of town, having a staycation, or using your time off to relax at home? Have any stories to share?

Image found here.

Labels

2011-06-27T12:48:00.002-04:00

How are we perceived when we display symbols of our accomplishments, interests, and opinions? What about the “labeling” words from our mouths?

Labels (literal and figurative) are descriptive and sources of information - nothing wrong with that; right?

I read a book titled, “The Year of Living Biblically,” by A. J. Jacobs, author of the bestseller, “The Know-It-All.” He is an avowed Jewish agnostic who tried to, literally, live according to the bible for a year - long beard and all.

A very humorous book, and also thought provoking, his attempt to obey the Ten Commandments made me think of the 18” x 24” framed print of the Ten Commandments that my darling husband brought home a few years ago. It took a while for him to find a home for it on one of our walls, and when he did, I was slightly taken aback.

I stepped into our 5’ x 6’ half bath (powder room) and there it was.

“Hmmm… I’m not quite feeling this. Am I not a ‘Good Christian’ because I don’t want it there? Am I being a bit heathenish?”

Sooo…I tell him. Plus, I mention that our non-Christian guests may feel that it’s a little “in your face” as they relieve themselves.

My husband’s display of Christian books, pictures, hats, and t-shirts get him the “religious” label, which is not his favorite because of its catch-all meaning. He just prefers, “Christian.”

Other Labels

* Athletes: Super athletes in particular. They have trophies and ribbons everywhere. My stepfather’s family room was filled with certificates, ribbons, and pictures of him running until my mom had enough of it.

* Personalized license tags

* Mommy vans and SUVs: Many have the little characters stuck on the rear windshields – one for every family member and every pet.

* Other vehicle stickers/emblems:
......College/University alumni
......Kids’ schools – especially private schools
......Sororities and Fraternities
......“My Child is on the Honor Roll”
......The ovals with an acronym of favorite vacations spots; ex. OBX for Outer Banks, CM for Cape May
......The Christian fish
......The Darwin fish
......The Democratic or Republican presidential candidate
......The Confederate flag

* Designer clothes and accessories: My girls like swimsuits and backpacks with “Roxy” visibly weaved into the fabric.

* Professional offices (away and at home): walls plastered with degrees, awards, recognitions, honors, framed newspaper and/or magazine appearances

And what about the labels used when we speak? Typically, our tangible labels correspond with verbal declarations.

Mine is, “I’m a reader and a writer – love to do both.” My “labels” are journals that are stashed throughout my home. Pencils, paper, stationery, and favorite pens are abundant. Shelves of books are in every room. Every time I finish a book, it feels like an accomplishment, the physical book representing the trophy.

A friend commented on one of my blog posts telling of a Seinfeld episode where he asked why people keep books. “Are they trophies to prove that you can read?”

Guilty…only the trophy part, though. I guess everyone knows I can read.

Still, I thought, “Yeah, why do I do that?” So I donated a few (okay, only 3) to the library for their fund raising sale. And guess what? I miss seeing those three books on my shelf.

I realized that I don’t keep my books for other people to see hoping they’ll be impressed. I keep them for “me.”

What label(s) have you attached to your life? Is it for you, or for others to notice? Showing off a little or sharing your interests? :)

Whadduh Woman! Conquering Maggots

2011-06-12T18:37:00.002-04:00

maggot – the legless, soft-bodied, wormlike larva of any of various flies of the order Diptera, often found in decaying matter (www.thefreedictionary.com)

Ugh!

Anyway, I’ve come in contact with these little creatures. My trash can is at the curb in front of my house after being emptied by the trash collectors. The lid is open; odd, but no big deal.

As I begin to pull it over to close it, my olfactory senses are punched with a hard blow. Simultaneously, my eyes are transmitting the disgusting sight of maggots to my brain, which instantly gives me the heebie jeebies.

The trash can has been smelling a few days, but the hectic pace of my life would always cause my thoughts to be elsewhere. For five seconds as I emptied trash into it, I just assumed the smell would leave when the contents left on trash day.

But…

“Gosh! Umph! Great!” I utter as I hesitate, prolonging the inevitable.

I’ve got to clean it.

I roll it up the driveway where a faucet and hose is near. I go into the house, get the Clorox, come back out, hose in some water, and pour in a little bleach.

I roll the can back to the curb, gently put it on its side, and then lift it from the bottom to form a tilt to empty the bleach maggot soup into the sewer drain.

The stench is still unbearable, exacerbated by the ninety-four degree weather.

Peeking in again, I notice a material stuck to the bottom, like thick wadded string. There’s also an orangey brown substance on the inside wall.

*sigh*

I’ve got to clean the whole can.

“Hmmm…”

I’m not sticking my arm in there!

Think Anita.

A broom.

I see two in the garage, and we hardly use them. (preferring the vacuum)

Back out again with my broom and dishwashing liquid. Hose in water and add soap; then swish, brush, swish. Back to curb. Empty.

String and unidentifiable substance still there.

Repeat process.

Stench has lessened.

I leave the can in the driveway, hoping the sun will cure it.

A few hours later…

Still stinky. After the trash is collected again, I’ll spray more bleach at the “substance,” even though I’m not sure if it is the culprit.

And, my days of not securing the lid with a bungee cord are over. Gotta keep our animal friends that live in our back yard wetlands, out of my trash can.

What have you done that qualifies for “Whadduh Woman?” (Translation: What a Woman!)

Mother's Day

2011-05-15T22:53:00.004-04:00

Okay, so I'm a week behind on this post. Anyway...

On a day that's supposed to be exceptionally good, the Honored Mommy (me) gets only five hours of sleep the night before. Mother's Day starts out "in the red." She's tired.

Dutifully, she takes her children to church instead of pulling the covers back over her head. Husband/Daddy went an hour ago to teach his class of five year olds, otherwise, the Honored Mommy would have been tempted to send the children with him while she enjoyed the serenity of a book or dreamland.

After church, the Honored Mommy is taken to a 21st floor restaurant that has a view of a river below. Husband has lunch there occasionally during the weekdays and knows "everyone," therefore, he proudly introduces her and the three children to every server and cook on the premises, and to a couple groups of other diners that he just happens to know.

Sooo, the Honored Mommy has to shake a few hands, flash a few smiles, and say a few words between forkfuls of shrimp creole, smoked salmon, and other delicious items from the buffet. Still, she eats all she wants, including "the best" bread pudding for dessert.

Satisfied and full, the Honored Mommy wants to go home, but she looks out over the city with her family because they seem to be enjoying it. Then she takes a complimentary picture with them, shot by the Mother's Day photographer - even though her eyes are puffy from lack of sleep, and she hadn't bothered to cover her gray roots with her cover stick that morning.

Nice pic.

We're now homeward bound! The Honored Mommy snoozes a little during the drive.

A deviation: The husband has to go a little out of the way to drop off a card to a woman in a nursing home. The Honored Mommy can't argue with that (because it's a good deed) and continues her snooze...at least she "tries" to continue her snooze.

Instead of taking the route that would get them home with five turns, the husband/daddy takes the route that requires twenty turns. The Honored Mommy's head jerks and bobs at every turn. She feels like she's on a ride at the amusement park.

Then, daughter #1 has to have something from CVS. Another delay.

Finally, they're home. The presents are opened and the Honored Mommy takes a breather. Then she puts on comfortable clothes, because of course...she's back to work.

This story was inspired by a Mother's Day episode of the ABC TV show, The Middle. The mother gets her wish of being alone on Mother's Day, then wastes her solitude by doing stressful chores. Her family comes home after an activity filled day and she's upset because they had fun without her.

A different story from mine, yet I was reminded of how much our loved ones do to give us a good day; and I appreciate it. I feel the love...even when it wears me out.

What do you do on Mother's Day?

5/16/11 - Thought I should add: This story reflects my personal sense of humor, but please tell me your stories, whether they are humorous or not.

Image from http://www.delmarvatowncrier.com/

(I'll work with blogger soon to solve the line spacing problem. One of my readers suggested that I may need to update to the latest software version.)

Pushy ?Friends?

2011-04-12T13:47:00.012-04:00

Who cuts your hair? ...You'll like my guy. He's blah, blah, blah, blah. Here's his name and the shop where he works. Call him.

2 weeks later...

You haven't called him yet! Umph!
..........

I make good macaroni and cheese. I'll get you the recipe.

2 weeks later...

Did you make the mac and cheese yet? ... Why not? My recipe is gooood!
..........

Don't get your new car from THEM! I ordered mine from XYZ. You'll get a much better deal.

a month later...

Oh, you couldn't talk your husband into XYZ. Too bad.
..........

You help your kids with their homework. That's a no-no. Let'em do it by themselves. When mine were young, I told their teachers not to expect me to help. That's their job! (the teachers)

..........

(When my kids were little) It's time for them to do their own hair. So what if it doesn't look good. They'll learn.
..........

Those are a few of the numerous "suggestions" from Joan. Basically, I let most of it pass from one ear to the other, and out.

"Here she goes again," I'd think.

I couldn't figure out why it mattered so much to her about the color of my bedroom walls. I'd tell myself that she's trying to be helpful, even though she's being pushy.

Occasionally, she introduced me to something I actually liked, and I was thankful, however, mostly, I laughed it all off, until...

...she started on politics.

Admittedly, not my strength, nor my favorite topic, however, I would discuss the hot button issues with her for a limited amount of time when we'd see each other. Gradually, she became annoyed and frustrated with me. Her manipulative personality couldn't understand why I didn't feel exactly as she did. My intuition told me to table it. That annoyed her even more, and she decided to force me to talk.

And I did.

I sorta lit into her. Macaroni and cheese is one thing. My "freedom" as a human being and an American Citizen is another. My advice to her: don't mess with it.

Her feelings were hurt. I apologized for my aggression, but reiterated my stance on deciding what subjects I cared to discuss; along with the when, where, and how.

There were no make-up hugs. Flushed and angry is how I last saw her. She changed her schedule to avoid seeing me again.

tisk tisk

There's a fine line between helpfulness and manipulation.

Where do you draw the line at maintaining your independence?

Sorry about the extra line spaces. Can't get them out. Help. :)

Help

2011-04-12T13:10:00.003-04:00

Help

My posts are turning into one big paragraph. My line spacing is gone!

My method of posting is to write using Word, then copy and paste into blogger. It copies in correctly, but at some point it turns into one paragraph.

Can any of you tell me what's going on? Thank you.

I'm back. Interesting...it didn't happen this time. Is it because I typed everything directly into blogger?

To Advertise or Not To Advertise

2011-03-25T21:28:00.000-04:00

............

I have always admired entrepreneurs. I have always admired writers. Can a person be both?

Barnes and Noble is filled with books by authors who earn money based on sales. Some churn out book after book to satisfy their need to write, and also the need to feed their ambition and competitiveness, and to support themselves.

How about bloggers? We write about every subject imaginable. We display our photography and post our recipes. We sell our creations in our Etsy shops. We showcase our home decorations, gardens, quilting, and scrapbooking talents. We journal our lives. Blogs contain such an array of creativity.

When I’m visiting blogs, I notice backgrounds, award buttons, prayer requests, blog rolls, Ads by Google, advertisement pictures, etc. I click, but rarely. I’m there to read the blog.

On one particular blog, I noticed a button that says "ad-free blog."

“Hmmm…” I thought. “I wonder would she (the blog owner) still visit my blog if I used Google Adsense?” Then I thought, “Do people with small followings actually make money? What’s wrong with a little income…capitalism…the American way?”

Anyway, I Googled the button and read, “advertising on blogs devalues the medium.”

Yes, some blogs are filled with stuff; things blink, things roll, things sing. Some are appealing, some are not. Bottom line for me is the personal content. I like it, or I don’t; or sometimes it’s so-so.

So what about the advertisement? Does it take away as adfreeblog.org says? How about the giveaways?

I love to read blogs and to actually remember who I’m communicating with. Will that become a thing of the past when I have my thousand hits per day, comments galore, and a major advertisement or two? (I can dream.) Will those of you who know me still visit and blend your comments into the rest?

Or will you say, “Oh, she’s big now and into making money.” (I’m still dreaming.)

What do you know about advertising and giveaways on blogs? What’s your opinion?

The Conversation Starter Box

2011-03-08T14:25:00.000-05:00

My Grandma Martha had a hard time talking to my brother and me. Grandma Mary did not; however, our time together was mainly spent directing and laughing at the characters on TV westerns. She also liked to play records on her stereo console and dance to the music as I watched with admiration; my brother laughed.

At eleven years old, I questioned the difference in the two grannies. My mom said, “the adult has to be the one to get the relationship going. Your Grandma Martha doesn’t know how to do that.”

…..

My three carpool girls hardly talk during the twenty minute drive to school. I ask the usual questions:

“What did you do this past weekend?”
“What are going to do this coming weekend?”
“How was school?”
“How was soccer?”
“How was dance class?”
“Are you ready for spring break?”
“Are you ready for summer?”

I make comments like:

“I like your new hair style.”
“I like your boots.”

All responses from the girls are minimal. I turn on the radio. A good song comes on at some point, but mostly, I find the whole listening thing b-o-r-i-n-g.

One day, I try something new. “This is a totally random question girls.” (Random is one of the “in” words nowadays.) “I have a blog and I’ve written a post on tattoos. What do you think about tattoos?” I ask, along with a few other related questions.

And what happens?

I get a fluid conversation for the rest of the ride! They give their opinions and tell stories of people they know who have one or more tattoos.

I’m impressed.

Sooo…I’m on to something! What random question can I ask tomorrow? Will they participate? Will they think, “Oh no, here she goes again. I’m really not in the mood to talk.” But then I think of my mom and her statement, “the adult has to be the one to get the relationship going,” and I decide to try it again.

An Aha! Moment occurs. I have a box of questions from our family trip to American Girl Store. I’ll bring it along for the morning ride!

First I eat my breakfast bar, have my sip of water, get beyond merging into the interstate traffic, and then spring it on them!

“I enjoyed hearing your opinions yesterday girls. People are beginning to comment on the blog post to tell me what they think.

Then, "Girrrls, I have another random question for you today,” as I pass the box back and tell them to pick out one.

The question is, “What is the most beautiful animal in the world?”

Success.

They pull out a few more questions as we continue our ride, which makes me nervous because I want that box to last until the school year is over! Anyway, we have more conversation…all the way to the drop off in the carpool line.

…..

The girls are thought to be quiet, shy, or reserved with adults when out of their comfort zone (their peers), but I discovered that though they were not really gelling in the carpool ride, for whatever reason, they have shown me that they can be excited about expressing thoughts and talking to “an old mom” who is helping to get our relationship going.

It’s so much better than three middle school girls listening to the diet commercials on the radio.

Do you try to talk to kids or let them “talk amongst themselves?”

Do You Have a Tattoo?

2011-02-22T14:16:00.004-05:00

YOU DON'T HAVE A TATTOO!

Well why not? Everyone else seems to have one.

Oh…except me.

Will I ever want one? No. Aside from the fact that I’m afraid to do anything permanent, I’m too old. Although, even if I were twenty-five, I still don’t think I would want one.

My imagination can’t even take me there. I’m trying to see a cute little rose on my backside; nothing fancy – just a red blossom with a couple green leaves and a short stem.

I’m trying this mental exercise in an attempt to relate to those who have chosen to go under the “pen.” Or is it a “needle?”

I know a few people who have one, but I never hear them say “why” they got it. They just say because it’s cool.

I wonder if it is like trying a new hair cut. You see a picture in a magazine or on someone else, admire it and decide to imitate. Or, if it has a deeper meaning, like a loved one’s name, a religious symbol, rebellion, or just plain ol’ art…like wearing a new shade of lipstick or growing a beard.

What's the motivation; the inspiration?

Does it make you feel sexy? I’m just askin’.

…..

My first awareness of tattoos was seeing it on the arms of sailors in the military town of my childhood. The next wave was during the seventies: peace signs, flower power, and marijuana leaves. Now I’m noticing names, phrases, and abstract shapes.

For those of you who have one, do you feel the urge to get another? I’ve seen men and women with tattoos covering their entire legs and/or arms. I still come back to, “it’s permanent.”

Isn’t it? Or does the laser removal process work?

Could henna be an option?

Does anyone care to enlighten me?

.....

PART II

I decide to ask a couple people about their tattoos; a woman and a man, both in their early twenties.

Proudly, Tanya shows me the tattoo on her forearm, and tells me about the other three she has. One is her mother’s name. The others are depictions of her personality.

Michael has a small initial of his name, and a bolder tattoo called a “collar rocker” – a phrase tattooed on his chest just below the collar bone. In my conversation with him, I learn the terms “covered tattoo” and “uncovered tattoo,” the former meaning that it can be easily covered with clothing; the latter, not. People with “tats” all over their legs and arms, obviously, enjoy the visibility.

Both speak passionately and consider the tattoos a form of self expression.

“It’s something that our generation is doing,” says Michael, implying that it belongs to them. Reading between the lines, I hear, “You all had your long hair and afros; we have our tattoos.”

Tanya is a poet, and seems to be searching deeply for the meaning of her life. She says her friends, jokingly, call her bi-polar.

I detect a little rebellion from both, as if they are saying that so many factors control their lives, but this is one thing that only they control.

On the flip side of the coin, a “baby boomer generation” male gives me his opinion. “It’s mutilation,” he says; “How are they going to get hired for jobs?”

I say, “They’re probably not interested in sitting behind a desk;” which is stereotyping. Does a tattoo affect a person’s potential for certain types of employment? Even though Michael says it's mostly his generation getting them, people of all ages and occupations are visiting the parlors.

I’m glad I asked Tanya and Michael about their tattoos. Regardless of my opinion, I got real feelings from real people.

Next topic: Ear Gauging…NOT!

The large pierced ears still give me the heebie jeebies, but I’m s-l-o-w-l-y desensitizing.

Stay at Home Mom Saves the Day!

2011-02-01T13:17:00.007-05:00

I’ve been a stay-at-home mom fifteen years, which is more than enough time to get beyond the need to defend my role…and I have. This is not a post seeking validation.

However, there are people who genuinely can’t imagine what goes on during a day in the life of a woman who is not employed, especially when her kids are at school.

Here’s an example of an hour.

The phone rings. It’s Betty at the neighborhood clubhouse.

“Hmmm… I don’t usually hear from her. Have we paid our dues?”

"Hi Anita." (We exchange niceties.) "Someone called the clubhouse and said that the Smiths' irrigation pipes are springing a really big leak. No one's answering at their house. Do you know their cell numbers?"

Unlike all the cool people, I don’t have all my “contacts” on my cell phone, so I have to go to my personal, hard copy “phone book” that I keep in my kitchen drawer to get the cell numbers of Mary and John.

Seven minutes later, Betty calls back. “I left messages on their voice mail.”

“Okay, thanks.”

I’m feeling the search for them should continue.

I call 411 and get the company number where Mary works. Of course it’s an 800 number. I dial it, and of course, I get a recording. After pressing several response numbers, I'm told the "wait time." Then I’m asked if I’d like to leave my info to receive a return call. I press 2 or 3 more numbers in response to 2 or 3 more questions, and then record my name. It’s played back and I’m asked to press another number if I want to send it. I press it and hang up. Before I can take 3 steps, of course, I receive the return call. Of course, I could have just stayed “on hold.”

I ask the guy if there is a personnel office that he can connect me to because I need to talk to my neighbor about an issue at her house. “No, I can’t do that.” Of course, he can’t.

But…lucky me. He is kind enough to look up Mary’s email address and sends her a message to call me.

One minute later, she calls. (When you get a strange email from your neighbor, you respond right away and hope that it’s not “thaaat bad,” because you know it’s bad.)

I tell her what’s going on and I ask if I can do anything.

“Can you turn the water off?”

I’m thinking, “What? Huh?” Then I tell myself, “Get a grip.”

“Sure, I can try.”

Once at their house, standing in the yard, I talk to Mary, John, Mary again, John again…about the location of the water controls and how to shut it off. Eventually, I see a plate that covers the valves, under a miniature geyser coming from the cracked above-ground pipes. My attempt at removing the plate, with my bare hand in freezing cold water, fails.

Back to my house to get a screw driver, rain boots, and Playtex rubber gloves, then back to the job. Temporary success! The plate cover is off, but the bucket-like hole is filled with icy, murky water; no valves in sight. I feel around, but it’s too deep.

More instructions and conversation with Mary, and then John, as they decide which of them will get home faster. The utility guy drives up. He uses a tool to sink into the “bucket” of water, feels around, and turns off the valve. We chitchat for two minutes, and then I’m off to my house where I let my hand thaw.

John and Mary are very thankful. The water could have been pouring out all day, taking their water bill higher and higher.

I’m glad I answered the phone call from Betty. Although the incident took me totally off the path of what I had planned for the day, this is what I was destined to do…at least for an hour. I’ll return those overdue books to the library tomorrow…hopefully.

Stay at home mom, retiree, 9 to 5er, white collar, blue collar, entrepreneur, farmer, professional, service, sales… We’re all in this together.

My Friend Debbie Had Cancer

2011-01-10T14:08:00.000-05:00

I was a young child in the 1960s, yet I remember how the adults whispered when someone was diagnosed with cancer, the dreaded C Word.

Now spoken of openly because of increasing survival rates and media attention, it is still feared.

My friend Debbie passed away in January, 2009; one year after entering the emergency room with abdominal pain, and subsequently hearing, “You have stage three ovarian cancer.”

How can we stop this horrible disease that attempts to take our lives, often succeeding. It is a beast, mean and ugly. It also has friends, two of which are named diabetes and heart disease. Where did they come from and why don’t they go away?

Many of you have been attacked by the cancer beast. The rest of us, too, for our family members and friends have experienced this major challenge. Even our favorite celebrities have caused us sadness; recently, Elizabeth Edwards.

As tough a battle it is, let’s continue our fight against the beast and its friends. The human body is strong and amazing. Let’s take care of it as best we can so that the beast and friends will back off! And if they do get their hands on us, let’s keep the fight going.

Continue your prayers, your hope, your learning, your doctor visits, your financial contributions to research, your improving diet and exercise, your support to those who need it, and your desire to live.

How has cancer touched your life?

In memory of
Deborah Renee Gilliam Goodman
11/17/59 – 1/21/09
“Debbie”

Image is a symbol for the Lance Armstrong Foundation.

Another One Bites the Dust - Addictions

2011-01-01T00:01:00.003-05:00

What’s your addiction?

Running, exercise, TV, food, reading, writing, blogging, men, women, volunteering, politics, scrapbooking, sports, gardening, Twitter, Facebook, FarmVille, decorating, cleaning, collecting...?

Another bloggy friend has called it quits…bitten the dust…blogger burnout. In her case, it was a matter of wanting to spend her free time doing other things. She wrote a gracious letter as her last post, thanking us and wishing us well. I will miss her blog.

In other cases, one blogger wrote a quick three liner, basically leaving us hanging. Another left a video post that was critical of the process and of a few bloggers – indicative of the stress she incurred doing this “hobby.”

And a fourth, who was very popular, still blogs, but has changed her format to promoting products with giveaways. I miss her mischievous sense of humor and her dedication to good causes, which was very encouraging. But, she did what she wanted or needed to do.

Some have taken sabbaticals – a summer or another period of time away from blogging - while others admit their addiction in a blog post, perhaps as a way to get control over it.

Regardless of what it is that you’re spending a LOT of time doing, I assume that it is wise to assess your motives, rewards, and costs periodically; and when necessary, make some tweaks and changes along the way.

Have a good year!

Are you enjoying your "addiction" or is it causing a problem in your life?

Volunteering

2010-12-08T00:06:00.003-05:00

Are you a doer, a giver, both, or neither?

I can’t remember my first experience as a volunteer, although, during my childhood and throughout college, I was always helpful. But volunteering for a cause - it’s a blur; don’t think I did.

My parents were charitable when I was a child, but probably did not contribute time to a specific organization…well maybe their church. But they were very helpful to others when needed; doing things like painting, cooking, lawn care, car pooling, and child care. Both of them were employed, and for many years, my dad also had a part time job – all while sharing a car and using public transportation. Raising two kids, I doubt they had the energy and resources to volunteer on a regular basis.

I tell a little of their story because sometimes, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” My brother and I followed their pattern – helpful, but not feeling obligated to do more.

Things changed when I was in my twenties.

Employed as a computer programmer in a corporation, single, and living in a new city, my life was in a rut and I needed something else. I thought of joining the U.S. Reserves, and then realized I was too chicken for that.

“What am I good at? Hmmm…reading. I’ll contact a literacy program and volunteer to tutor adults.”

Unfortunately, after going to meetings and training, the program failed to successfully link me with a student. Some drama probably occurred in my life, and that was that for the tutoring.

More years passed. I couldn’t seem to attach myself to a cause that I was willing to give time to, so I donated blood regularly and passed out envelopes to the neighbors for the heart fund; things like that. But because I was financially successful, I gave and gave and gave.

After marrying and having kids, I volunteered at church in departments involving children…because “I” had kids and felt that “I” should. Once, I volunteered in a children’s church class as the fourth person to come on board. Within a month, the other three women left and I found myself teaching the class. Frustrated, yet somewhat humored, I asked myself, “How did this happen? How did 'I' become the lead teacher!”

Well, I did it for two years. (Thankfully, there was a guide book!) I quit because, while it felt good to give to eager little children, my own children suffered before every class. The preparation and mad rush at home prior to getting to the class made me grouchy. I was stressed. They were stressed.

At another time, I tutored math at my kids’ elementary school a couple years.

Currently, I don’t have a volunteer title. I pitch in when I can.

At one time, I felt guilty. My peers were the room moms, the organizers for the fund raising, held positions with the PTA, worked the concession stands for the boosters, etc. “Why don’t I do these things?” I wondered. A few friends would tell me, “You’ve got three kids! Take care of them and don’t worry about the rest.” But then I’d think, “These other moms have kids, too.”

In conversations with my volunteer extraordinaire friends, I’ve been told:

“People know that I can get it done well and I’m dependable.”

“I was on the school board and I did that selfishly because my kids were in the system. I also volunteered for Sunday school because the teachers didn’t have their hearts into it. I saw a need and I volunteered for it.”

“The Lord blesses you when you put your hand to the plow.”

“I think volunteerism is expected of me and I expect it of others. The schools need a lot of support. If I see other people doing a lot more than I do, I try to step it up,” she said with a big laugh.

They are the definite DOERS.

Eventually, my guilt dissipated. I realized it’s not about how many kids you have or your available time, it’s your personality.

I still volunteer, but it tends to be one-time events that I am able to enjoy.

Putting myself in a category, I’m a doer and a giver – but lean more towards giving. I’m quick to write the check or send in the store bought cupcakes, and I get just as much satisfaction as the person whose cupcakes are homemade.

Balance is required for most things in life. For example: gift baskets to the needy. Someone has to purchase the items and someone has to pack the items. There is no gift basket without both people.

My feelings on those who don’t volunteer: I don’t judge. There are many kind hearted people in the world who may be giving to others by doing something as simple as being a listening ear.

.
What are your feelings on the subject?

Ps. Dad passed away years ago, but Mom and brother have given time and energy to various causes since my childhood days; much of it involving children, the sick, and the elderly.

Why Do You Believe What You Believe?

2010-11-22T15:46:00.000-05:00

I was born into a Catholic family; water poured on my tiny, infant forehead in a Sunday baptism ceremony.

I entered first grade at the downtown Catholic school and had my First Holy Communion at the church next door. Outfitted in a white dress, belted at the waist and poofed out below with a crinoline slip; along with white Mary Jane patent leather shoes, lace trimmed ankle socks, and a lace veil, I received the Sacrament with other little girls and boys. I was beginning my life as a Christian.

But then the divorced happened. Dad remained a Catholic; Mom, ultimately, did not. She had custody of my brother and me. We moved to Michigan where our church going routine went awry. Fifth grade was my last year of Catholic school.

However, the seed was planted. I believed in God.

Later in life, I began to believe because of faith rather than what I’d been taught.

* * * *

I woke up one morning, stressed; worried about being able to accomplish the long list of things to do. My first thought: ask God to help me throughout the day.

And then I wondered – What do people do when in need of mental or physical relief? How do people handle a tough time, like a life or death situation involving themselves or loved ones? Where do they find comfort?

And, who do people thank when it all works out?

As a Christian, I have a “thank you Jesus moment,” like the lady on the commercial who won the millions in the Publisher’s Clearing House sweepstakes…well, not e-x-a-c-t-l-y like her.

When blog surfing, and just reading in general, I find info on many celebrations – some that are religious, like Diwali. I Googled it and learned that it is a major holiday celebrated by Hindus.

With all the holidays celebrated around the world, I am reminded of the many different beliefs, and unfortunately, all the conflict surrounding it, which I believe will always exist. Religious wars have been fought since history has been recorded.

Nowadays, people criticize each other with words like: gullible, cult, naïve, stupid, heathen, violent, thief, weird, lost, etc.

I’ve seen bumper stickers with the word “coexist” (written with religious symbols), which is what we have to do, but I see nothing wrong with healthy and respectful debate. Educate yourselves and defend your beliefs, because sometimes in the process, you may help someone, or, you may discover something you’ve been missing that someone else has. When you have peace in your heart, you’ve probably hit the mark.

At Least I Didn't Leave the Iron On

2010-11-09T16:40:00.003-05:00

Ten year old youngest daughter whispered, “He took it better than I thought he would.” Then she acted out what she expected him to do when he opened the garage door and stepped into the kitchen to see buckets and wet stains on the ceiling.

“GOSH!” she grunted with a contorted face and body movements indicating extreme frustration. “That’s what I thought Daddy would do.” Then she laughed.

*****

It is the best plan. Husband and two oldest daughters leave early for a college football game and youngest daughter has nowhere be (no driving for me today!); a perfect day to catch up on cleaning.

My dear mother just left a week earlier after a three day visit and a hundred suggestions for me on how to make things around the house look a little better. Sooo…I hop to it.

First task – laundry; I have one load going. I’ll do the whites next. But first, I need to soak the cloth that mom used to dust to get the furniture polish out of it.

I close the drain in my master bath sink, turn on the water, put the cloth in, pour in a little bleach…

I blackout.

I’m now running around the house with Layla-the-dog on a leash.

“Oh, I think I’ll give her some more exercise and walk to the corner and back.”

Back home, as I open the kitchen door, Layla and I are met with a very excited ten year old who was on her way to search for us.

“Mommy, there’s water coming out of the ceiling!”

I dash up the stairs, thinking…my washer…how could it be overflowing? It’s still new!”

At the top of the stairs, I glance in the laundry room. Normal.

Still racing in my 4-minute mile pace, I head towards the sound of running water and quickly turn off the faucet. I take two seconds to assess the situation. Do I clean the kitchen or bathroom first?

The kitchen.

Down the stairs to the garage, get buckets, put under streams (by now) coming from the recessed lighting and a flat speaker cover.

Run back upstairs with useless mop. Throw down towels instead.

Repeat this pattern a couple more times.

Door bell rings. It’s a relative. Gotta let’im in.

I add socializing to the fiasco.

I can’t remember when I put on the tank top and shorts, but as I one-leg it up to a two foot-plus high counter stool to check inside the cabinets for hiding water, the thirty-one year old relative notices. My age comes up in our conversation and he exclaims, “Wow, you’re in amazing shape!”

Nice that I lost those few pounds recently; hope to keep it off through the holidays. Ha! Fat chance…no pun intended.

I digress.

My great plan for the day is ruined, and as ugly as the situation is, I refuse to “lose it.” Yes, internally, I moan a little about having so much responsibility and the need to multi-task, and a few other good excuses - but I let it go; just clean up, and let it go.

It helps that my children think it’s very funny. My middle daughter says, “This is when I’d like the teacher to ask us to write a paper about what we did over the weekend. ‘My mother flooded the bathroom and it came down through the kitchen ceiling.’”

All three girls laugh.

Husband/Daddy retreats to the couch and a TV football game – his substitution for a drink.

Hey…at least I didn’t leave the iron on and burn down the house.

What was your blunder? Have you let it go, or do you still feel quilt?

Do Blonds Have More Fun?

2010-10-20T15:51:00.003-04:00

“The baby has blond hair and blue eyes!” announced Julia.

The year was 1985 and I can’t remember whose baby was just born. I do remember hearing it along with my friend Stacey. The three of us were in our early to mid twenties. Julia, blond and blue eyed, was recently married. Stacey and I were nowhere close to matrimony, and were not as excited about babies.

When we heard this, I could sense that Stacey felt as I did. We wondered about the significance of the blond hair and blue eyes. Stacey has rich, Hershey colored skin, and mine is close to the color of pecans. The likelihood of either of us having a blond and blue eyed child was slim to none. We couldn’t relate.

I thought, but did not say, “Oh, the light hair and eyes, I guess that’s considered a good thing.”

Because we were young and caught off guard, Stacey and I did not respond to the baby’s looks with an obligatory, “How nice!” Oops.

* * * * *

My early youth was basically segregated. I saw “white people” on TV, and at stores, but not “next door.” Their skin color was very light, and they either had brown, red, or blond hair. That’s the way I summed it up.

I never gave blond hair much thought, until one day as I was riding the bus going downtown, and looked out the window to see the cutest little blond girl. Her hair seemed unique, like a mixture of silver and yellow – metallic – and it glistened under the sun. I was only twelve then, and was fascinated as I stared.

* * * * *

For years, this subject has crept into my mind; in particular, because of the books I read and the various forms of media that mention the word blond - constantly. My current book club novel is loaded with phrases like, “She swept her blond hair out of her eyes,” and “His butterscotch colored hair, sticking straight up” and "Her beautiful blue eyes gleamed with tears.”

Where did this standard of beauty come from? (If I were better at history, perhaps I’d know for sure.) Is the blond, blue eyed person the most beautiful? Are we taught outright to believe this? It is definitely a subliminal message.

I’ve met so many brown haired Caucasian women who say things like, “I didn’t get the blond hair that my sister got.” On occasion, I see the two sisters together. They have different coloring, but typically, I don’t see one as being more attractive than the other.

Once, a friend (who is Indian) tried to describe another person to me. “Does she have very large blue eyes?” I asked. She responded, “I don’t know what color her eyes are. I don’t notice things like that.”

I was surprised, because the woman’s eyes are huge; but I was also impressed in an odd sort of way. "She hasn’t bought into the 'checklist for physical beauty,'" I thought.

I’ve seen a lot of striking blonds and cute little “towheads” - a term I didn't learn until I was forty years old. I’ve also seen a lot of striking brunettes, red heads, brown eyes, chocolate skin, olive skin, braids, afros, Asian eyes, etc.

I know that all races of people have certain standards of beauty, and if you fit into the category…well, I guess that’s a good thing…maybe? So many people admire your looks; others are envious or jealous. What do you think?

Do you notice the numerous references to blond hair and blue eyes in books and on TV?
“Do” blonds have more fun?

10/26/10 - Should "blond" be spelled with an e? Blonde? After a little research, it appears that blond is for males, and blonde is for females. One person suggested dropping the e, stating that two spellings is sexist. Hmmm...

Breasts

2010-10-08T12:29:00.010-04:00

Yes - women’s breasts. The girls seem to be coming at’cha from everywhere nowadays. The teens are displaying their firmness with the help of underwire and push up bras (as if they need it) which gives them the appearance of having a little butt sitting on their chests; or like a couple of flesh colored round fruits popping out of their camis.

The women are not to be outdone, donning tight, low cut tops and dresses, too. They have more of the appearance of falling into their bras and then shortening the straps for a lift, but the results are pretty impressive.

The pointed bra that made women look like they had two half footballs on their chest is gone, and so is the jiggly, no-bra look. Apparently, smooth and round is in!

While many women are obsessing over the size of their breasts, wanting to be big and full and abounding with cleavage - some choosing the help of implants - there are others who could care less. My girlfriend is in that category. Having large breasts since childhood, she was done with them and decided to have breast reduction surgery.

When she first mentioned it, I understood. Size GG on a short, small woman is big. No matter how good her bras were, and how well she packed them in, successfully achieving her sophisticated and well-dressed look, her breasts were always center stage.

Prior to the surgery, most women wanted to know, “What size are you going down to?” and “How’s your husband going to feel about your smaller breasts?”

Those issues were not her concern. The pain in her back was. The inability to wear a dress was. Fitting her breasts meant the dress was going to be too big at the shoulders and too big at the bottom.

My friend let her surgeon decide her new size; a “balanced look” is what she asked for.

Still in the healing process, I asked her if she thinks back to what she used to look like, or if she’s used to her new body.

“I just think about the problems I had – like when I cleaned the tub, I felt like I had udders hitting against it. And, I hated the moisture under them that would start to smell if left too long.”

Those are things I never thought about. As a member of the barely B club, I haven't experienced physical discomfort (besides breastfeeding issues). Other issues, like being teased and not filling out the swimsuit top have been the extent of it, but I've never wanted implants.

It’s amazing how two little (or big) mounds of flesh can be so all-encompassing; how it can be the determinant for security or insecurity, for a pain free back, for looking “good” in clothes, for attracting mates, etc.

I’m proud of my friend for having the surgery. For her, it was the right thing to do.

For others, whether you’re in a training bra or any letter of the alphabet, the bottom line is – they’re yours. Do what’cha wanna do with’em! :)

But definitely do this: take care of them. Breast health is very important. Have your mammograms on schedule and do your self-examinations. Consult your doctors for advice and recommendations. Please.
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No question for this post: just say whatever comes to your mind. :)

Does Everyone Fit in a Box?

2010-09-28T12:58:00.004-04:00

During my fifteen years in Corporate America, there were two or three times that I had to take a personality test. I don’t remember all the official names, but after answering several questions, I landed in one of four boxes on a piece of paper, each labeled with one or two general words that defined “me.”

One time, I was bored by it; another time, I had fun. My coworkers and I had to mark a yellow sticky on each other’s backs to give our opinion of the person's personality.

My husband and I also took a test during a marriage retreat. This one was fun because it defined us with “colors!” We were red, yellow, blue, or green – our dominant personality, and another of the four colors as our secondary personality. A church leader jokingly said, “All you red people (controllers), take notice of who all the green people (givers) are because they have a hard time saying no.”

This subject came to mind when I asked a tennis teacher if she had more openings in her class for nine to twelve year olds…on the day of the first class. She only had four signed up, but the following day she told me several more showed up.

“Everyone procrastinates,” she said, which made me wonder if the procrastinators fit in one of the personality boxes or in another popular categorization, “Type A or Type B.”

(Click here to see Wikipedia’s entry on the “Four Temperaments” and click here to see the “Type A and Type B Personality Theory” entry; or Google “personality test.”)

I suppose these tests are used to place individuals in positions of work where they will be most comfortable, productive, and best able to benefit the organization - a worthy goal.

I didn’t pay attention to the A-B thing until I began working at a large corporation in 1984, filled with college recruits. “I’m type A,” one young woman said, “and I hate it when I can’t get an immediate and direct answer!”

“Ohhhh…” I thought. So that’s what the media is defining as those likely to have a heart attack.

After leaving Corporate America to get married and have children, I thought I’d relax and go with the flow. (ha ha) But even motherhood proved to be non-exempt from a scheduled day. A new friend suggested we get our five year old girls together to play. “Sure, good idea,” I said. We lived in the same neighborhood; I knew it would happen soon. But she said, “When?” and right then, I had to get it on the calendar.

I’ve always remembered that conversation. She was “proactive” (another current buzz word), and I was impressed.

My guess is that the people who researched and studied to assemble these tests can vouch for the necessity, accuracy, success, and benefits. But at my age, hopefully, I’m done with them. I’ve always been an independent type, and whereas I have landed in one of the four boxes when tested, I prefer operating outside of the box, jumping into whatever box I need during any given situation.

As for Type A-Type B – I think I’m in the B box, because I never say it. All my Type A friends announce it on occasion. I’ve never heard anyone announce that they are Type B.

What word(s) defines your dominant personality? Are you Type A or B? How do you feel about these tests?

Allowance, Chores, Rewards

2010-09-09T13:02:00.000-04:00

You don’t work; you don’t eat.

Makes sense to me.

I don’t think my children have a full understanding yet, so I’m still working on implementing it without threatening, cajoling, bribing, begging, nagging, and reminding. I have sweet dreams of saying, “Take the dog out,” and hearing, “Okay, Mommy,” instead of, “Is it my turn?” or “I took her out yesterday.”

“Look at the card,” I say. “According to IT, it’s your turn.”

Another example: “Have you cleaned the bathroom?”

“Oh, I was reading and forgot.”

Trying to maintain a normal tone of voice, I say, “Well, do it now. This is the second time I’ve asked you.”

Why can’t I get that “first time obedience” thing going on a consistent basis?

Yes, this is an age-old subject. Most children do not like chores, and many parents experience frustration.

Now that you’ve read my example of minor disobediences, your thoughts are probably similar to one of the following responses for me:

1. That’s a pipe dream girl! It’s impossible to get kids to do anything without hearing all that whining. They’re lazy. And by the time you’ve finished fussing with them, you could have done it yourself.

2. Oh, I understand. I have to bend over backwards to get mine to help, too, although sometimes, they’ll surprise me and do things without being told.

3. They’re not doing their chores because you don’t have a consequence system in place. Mine help because they know the rules and what happens when they break them.

I accept any of these responses, but number two is more in line with my situation. My kids do chores, but improvement is needed.

What about allowance?

I don’t give it. I think the kids should earn allowance by being consistent with the chores and having a good attitude. (We’re getting there...slowly.)

Besides, mine always have grandparent money and birthday money. (They have it because they don’t get much opportunity to spend it because their semi-mall-phobic mother rarely takes them shopping.)

There’s also reward money, like, for good report cards. My husband gives it; I don’t. Doing well in school is expected and normal for them. I give rewards for extra chores and accomplishments.

My kids are blessed to have all their needs more than adequately taken care of, plus I give them numerous treats.

Recently, my twelve year old daughter told me that her friend gets paid per chore. The girl made a list and presented it to her parents; something like this:

Wash dishes $1.00
Clean toilet $1.00
Change sheets $3.00

“Incentive money?”

Sooo…when darling child is strapped for cash, she picks from the list and does it.

The mom says it’s working. But, she also says her home will never measure up to Martha Stewart’s standards. Mine won’t either.

Another friend has a point system. Each task has a point value that builds and is eventually converted to cash.

When I was growing up, I had chores that I raced to do before mom came home from work. I recall a little nagging from her, too, and when I “forgot,” there was a strong “Do It Now” and possibly a “punishment.”

What is reasonable for kids? I’m sure there are more answers than there are kids. But the thing we all have in common is our changing world. Parents are working long hours and too tired to clean and manage. Parents are carpooling throughout the day and attending activities. Technology has given us more toys and gadgets that we now consider normal. We have more clothes, more bedding and towels, more computers, more cars… It all has to be maintained. Plus we have more bills to pay for all of our “stuff.”

Subconsciously, I may not be pushing the chores 24-7 because of the overwhelming and enormous job of managing our lives and taking care of our stuff.

A friend of mine is a self-proclaimed, modern day Luddite; definitely an option for the lifestyle pool.

Oops, get me back on track! No excuses. The strong, able bodied, young people are capable of working for their keep.

How do you handle allowance, chores, and rewards?

Where Should Dogs Pee and Poop?

2010-08-18T15:00:00.002-04:00

Back in the good ol’ days (or were they?), Fido had his own dog house in the fenced in back yard, where he chose his toilet area. Occasionally, his owners would let him inside to explore the big house, but he knew not to purge while visiting. He hadn’t done that since he was a baby, peeing and pooping on the newspapers, spread out on the kitchen floor.

A lot of dogs still live this life, while others have moved inside their owner’s home, dictating a change in the elimination process. (By the way, now Fido has a human name - Max.)

I live in a large subdivision of about eight hundred homes, divided into lots ranging from about a quarter acre to an acre. I’m guessing at least a third of the neighbors have a dog – or two, or three. Of the sixteen houses on my street, ten homes include fourteen dog residents!

Many of us do not have a fenced yard, although some have invisible fences. Soooo…what do we do when Miley or Max have to pee?

We put them on a leash and walk outside to the yard, where sometimes they’ll just “do it,” be happy, and come back inside.

What do we do when they need exercise and/or their favorite pooping area is beyond the confines of the yard?

We get our plastic bag (the long slim bag that the newspaper comes in is perfect for the job), put Miley or Max on the leash and WALK – until the feeling “moves” them.

The problem.

Sometimes the feeling “moves” them in a neighbor’s yard, and some of the neighbors DO NOT like dogs peeing and pooping in their yards. A few neighbors have a small sign near their mailboxes that indicate “no pee and poop zone.”

One neighbor comes out of his house screaming, “DON’T LET THAT DOG GO ON MY YARD!”

I’ve heard there are others who come out, too, when catching Max in the act, but with a “nicer” warning. “Would you NOT let your dog go on my yard please?”

One day, little Miley ventured "close" to the yard of the screaming man, when my dear friend (Miley’s owner) became a victim of the screaming man…or…is the screaming man the victim? It is his yard and dogs have used it; and I suppose some owners have not cleaned it up.

My friend and I had a discussion about this issue, comparing the various places where we allow the dogs to “go.” We feel okay when our dogs pee or poop along the street edge grass of a “safe” yard (the neighbors who also have dogs) as we walk in the street. After all, we do have our trusty plastic bag. Mostly, my dog Layla will go in the narrow strip of grass between the street and the sidewalk.

But, in our discussion, we realized that some dog owners still prefer not to have dogs peeing and pooping in their yards, regardless of the trusty plastic bag. One joked that his nice grass will not continue to be nice if little Miley keeps peeing in it (hint, hint). Typically, these neighbors have fences and their dogs go in their back yards. I asked my friend, “Does the pee hurt the grass?”

She didn’t know.

Another friend who’s been yelled at, said, “I guess once a dog goes on a yard, others smell the scent and it becomes their favorite place to go, too.”

Before I had a dog, I was not bothered by dogs using my yard as long as their owners picked it up. I figured it came with the territory of living in a large dog-owning, dog-walking neighborhood.

We concluded our discussion with a decision to put more effort and patience in getting the dogs to “go” in our own yards, even when they’re ready to walk, and to be more aware of where they “go” when we’re walking them.

Ps. I always scoop it up, even at night with the use of a flashlight.

Are you a dog owner? Where does your dog pee and poop?

Dog owner or not, does it bother you when a dog goes in your yard?

Shock, Embarrassment, Disappointment

2010-08-02T17:58:00.001-04:00

Kahil Gibran says in his book, The Prophet,

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.

Do you agree?

What happens to a family when a child gets into trouble or controversy? It seems that no family (or extended family) is exempt. If you’re fortunate, the incident is limited to a call from a teacher or principal reporting a dispute between your child and another. Or perhaps your adult child has decided to drop out of college. You didn’t see it coming. It’s inconsistent with Susie’s or Johnnie’s personality and behavior. It’s a big deal for a while, but later, it’s not.

But what about the unexpected grandchild; or the drugs found in the car, followed with an arrest, misdemeanor charge, and court appearance? Hmmm…definitely life changing with consequences.

Are you still supporting Johnnie or Susie? Are you still letting them know that they can rectify their mistakes and live a good life?

How do you feel when Johnnie announces he’s gay, which may be a relief for him, but a problem for you? How about the semi-nude photos of Susie that have been made public?

What do you do when a major crime is committed, or a life is lost due to a suicide or drunk driving?

You’re shocked, embarrassed, distraught, angry, miserable, disappointed, and/or grievous. Are you wondering, “Where did I go wrong? What did I lack in raising my child?”

How do people treat you? Are you avoiding them, knowing that they are “talking about you,” criticizing you, and thinking that it’s your fault because you’re the parent?

My three children are still young - the oldest fourteen. I’m pleased to say that neither has shocked me, and pray they won’t. (Am I naïve?) I’ve heard many parents say, “Oh, I know they’re going to do it anyway.” Is a seed being planted with that statement?

We’re all human – somewhat fallible and susceptible to temptation. Hmmm…

I have friends, relatives, and neighbors who have experienced these episodes. I’ve seen the surprise grandbabies, the addiction to drugs, the jail sentence, and sadness of learning that a lesbian daughter does not want children – a grandchild for you.

I’ve seen it in all races, cultures, economic levels, education levels, and religions.

And while many will blame you - the parent, your friends will love you, know your heartache, and not judge you.

I’ve heard Oprah Winfrey quote Maya Angelo, who said, “We do the best we know how to do.”

Hopefully.

To what degree do we “know” our children and their potential for trouble-free, successful futures?

The Role of the Woman

2010-07-07T21:19:00.002-04:00

Do you “fix a plate” for your husband?

It’s 1973. My stepfather, EJ, is sitting at the dining room table. Mom walks to him from the small galley kitchen, carrying a plate of food and places it on his table mat. She comes back and we maneuver at the stove, spooning food onto our plates, and then join him.

A minute into the meal, EJ says, “Lil, pass me some salt.” She pops up from her chair, the one closest to the kitchen entrance (for convenience), to get the salt.

This scene played out many times during my teen years. She got the salt, butter, a napkin, refill of a beverage – whatever. One day, I asked, “Mom, why are you interrupting your meal to get EJ the salt?” I acted it out for them, popping up from my chair to get the salt.

We all laughed.

My fifteen year old mind didn’t understand why my mom looked like a waiter in a restaurant.

Throughout the years, Mom taught me the realities of womanhood. One statement I remember, “He brings home his check and gives it to me; I have a meal for him on the table – even if we’re not speaking.”

As a child, I thought, “Surely this is a parent thing. Younger women don’t “do that.” (I must have thought “forty” was old.)

Wrong.

My contemporaries “do that.”

I’ve learned that in addition to serving the food, waitress style, they:
-shop for his clothes
-lay out his clothes for work
-drive “their kids” everywhere they need to go
-take out the trash and recycle
-get his approval on her outfit
-let him decide the time of intimacy
-go to bed when he goes
-get up when he gets up
-let him decide the car she will drive…

What have I left out Girls?

Before I married, Husband and I took a premarital class, which I recommend for couples headed towards marriage. One thing I remember hearing is, “a woman is flexible and adaptable,” and a third thing that I wish I can remember. Does that mean we are wired to be more capable of pampering, submitting, and catering?

This is all generalizing, of course.

Once in a while, on one of my “don’t want to cook days,” I think of my girlfriend’s husband’s reason for buying his four year old daughter a pretend kitchen set. He was so proud of the purchase, and announced that it will prepare her for cooking when she grows up and gets married.

Guess my parents should have bought one for me.

Hmmm…I think I did have one. What happened?

Just having a little fun here.

Seriously, so many of you are great cooks…and, everyone has to eat!

We all demonstrate our love and care for our mate in various ways. I’m just wondering what we “enjoy” doing, versus what we do because we’ve been taught that it’s our role - whether we enjoy it or not.

Should we view our role as contributing to the success of the relationship, and not be bogged down with the specifics of “who does what?” Or, should we renew our subscriptions to Ms. Magazine?

Little White Lies

2010-06-13T12:47:00.013-04:00

Dictionary.com defines white lie as “a minor, polite, or harmless lie; fib.” Its second definition is, “an often trivial, diplomatic or well-intentioned untruth.”

My fourteen year old daughter and I have some rare alone-time. She needs shoes for the eighth grade dance and we’re out shopping.

Leaving one shoe store, headed for another, I spot the bridal store. For years, my wedding dress has hung in my closet, and recently, my deceased mother-in-law’s wedding gown has taken up residence in another closet. My father-in-law gave it to my daughters, hoping that one of them might want to wear it some day.

Back to the bridal store…

Hayley and I go in to buy two preservation kits. “Hmmm…more expensive than I thought.”

I ask the sales rep, “If I buy two, would you be able to give me a discount?”

“No, I’m sorry. Another company handles this.”

“Oh. I’ll give it some thought.”

“Did you buy your dress here?”

“Yes, but it was over fifteen years ago.”

“Well if you decide to get the kits, just tell them you bought both dresses here and you’ll get a $60 discount off each.”

(My thought, “Good deal, but…I didn’t buy ‘both’ here.”)

I leave the store, but come back five minutes later to get “one” kit. My sales rep is gone, so I tell another sales rep about the discount that was offered to me earlier - for the dress that I’d bought here years ago. Of course, my name is not in the computer because my purchase was so long ago, but the manager decides to honor the offer quoted to me by the first sales rep.

As my daughter and I walk to the car, the thought occurs to me that she has watched and listened to the whole transaction. "What does she think? Something? Nothing?"

I’m wondering, “Did she notice the salesperson advising me to tell ‘the little white lie’ so that I can get a discount on ‘both’ kits”? I say to her, “Hayley, when I decide to buy the second kit, I won’t say the dress comes from this store – because it didn’t.”

The case of the “discounted wedding preservation kit” made me think about times when I have opted to succumb to the little white lie, like:

* I’ve been given back more change than owed to me.
My defense: “It’s only a dollar, I’m now ‘out’ of the store, and I don’t want to embarrass the employee.”

* My twelve year old paid the kids’ price for her buffet meal.
My defense: “They didn’t ask how old she is, she’s small for her age, and she can barely ‘eat’ the value of the kids’ meal.”

* When Husband and I were younger, newly married, and childless, we went to a museum during its opening month and found out we couldn’t go beyond the first floor because we didn’t have tickets, which were sold out. A “worker bee” employee saw us and asked if we’d like to see the rest of the museum. We said yes, he guided us up an elevator, and we were “in.”
My defense: “We didn’t ask him. It was his suggestion. And maybe he ‘did’ have the authority to let us see the museum without a ticket.”

Since having children, I’m more aware of these “untruths.” And I tend to notice when friends tell their kids to lie about not being home, or being younger to get the child’s admission fee. I’ve also heard, “Tell’em you’re sick and you can’t go,” etc.

Are little white lies harmless?

By the way, the last time we ate at CiCi’s Pizza (this website has audio), my twelve year old spoke up to be sure the person on the register knew she was not a “kid!”

Do you have any “little white lie” or "flat out lie" stories or opinions to share?

6/14/10 - My bloggy friend, Tracey, has corrected me on what a little white lie is. She is comment #7. I got a little carried away with my examples, but, I'll leave the title as is, because it gets the attention of the readers. Thanks Tracy. :)

6/16/10 - Another comment has prompted me to tell you that the "child's fee restaurant incident" happened once and was not noticeable until after I paid. Once I realized it, I should have turned back and had it corrected, but I didn't.

Father's Day and Love Languages

2010-06-03T12:02:00.004-04:00

What will you do to celebrate Father’s Day? What gift will you give your husband, your father, or another important male in your life?

Early in my marriage, it was quite a challenge to buy a gift for my husband that he’d love, or at least, a gift that was useful. He seemed to have everything already. I’d ask him to give me a category, or a hint of something he’d like, and he’d smile and say, “Oh, just surprise me.”

Stress.

If you read my post, “Was I Born Without the Shopping Gene?” you know that I like to get into the mall, zoom in on an item, purchase, and get out.

So, I’d pick up a clothing item or two, and actually ponder over it before making the big decision, then present it on Father’s Day. He’d smile and thank me and the kids, leave the gift out for display that day, and then put it away in his closet on Monday. That would be the last time I’d see it.

Okay…SOME years I’d see the gifts on his body.

(It should have occurred to me that another pair plaid or khaki shorts, a pastel polo shirt, or a polo shirt with horizontal stripes, added to his current collection would have been an easy pick.)

I’ll spare you all the gadgets I’ve bought.

This brings me to my introduction to The 5 Love Languages, a book written by Dr. Gary Chapman. I haven’t read it (yet), but the basic concept was used in a course that my husband and I took, and I’ve always thought it made so much sense.

According to Dr. Chapman, everyone has “a primary way of expressing and interpreting love.” He categorizes these love languages as, acts of service, words of affirmation, receiving gifts, quality time, and physical touch. And, he has discovered that in most relationships, people are attracted to others that have a different language than their own.

In the course that Husband and I took, we were asked to rank our love languages in order of importance, and to let each other know, with the intent of learning to satisfy each others primary language, instead of imposing our own on each other.

Receiving gifts was somewhere in the middle of his list; last on mine.

Soooo…we’ve compromised each Father’s Day. The girls and I make him the requested annual stepping stone (click here to see pictures of stepping stones), and buy him cards that he loves to open and read. Homemade cards and items made at school or church have been popular, too. Then we may go out for dinner at a quiet restaurant.

What are you getting your husband, father, and/or significant other for Father’s Day? I need some ideas! :)

Care to share what your primary love language is, and that of your spouse’s/partner’s.
(Don’t feel you have to say physical touch because it’s more about the touches “outside” of the bedroom…according to author. :) )

Single Friends

2010-05-27T22:19:00.001-04:00

Are you married or in a committed relationship? How many close single friends do you have?

Single people; do you have close friends who are married?

It’s 1991. My friend Renee and I are both single. We talk freely on the phone with no time limitation. And about once a month, we get together to hang out. We even fly south to one of the islands for a vacation.

Two years later…I began to seriously date G. He’s in another city and I don’t see him every weekend, but still, “hanging out” has lost its appeal. Renee and I keep the phone conversations going, but she begins to sense that it isn’t the same.

I get married. Renee and I maintain our friendship, now spanning two states, but the calls are decreasing…a lot.

Then, she gets married!

The calls pick up – a little – because we have “the marriage thing” in common.

It’s a few years later. She gets divorced. Her time is “all” hers again.

But now I have three children!

I also have several new friends from play group, piano lessons, church, the elementary school, etc. My phone time is all but gone.

Renee and I are down to talking once or twice a year.

In one of our conversations, she says something I’ll always remember. “You’re married with children. Married people just don’t have much time for their single friends. It’s okay; your life is different now.”

What can I say? She’s right. It’s not intentional though.

So, single friends – I thank you for caring about me and keeping our friendship alive via your initiated phone calls and emails. I feel awkward for not calling you much. Just keep in mind that my children will not always be children, and my husband is okay with a “girls” outing – the time will come…or will it?

How do you maintain friendships with single people?

Or, if you’re single, how do you maintain friendships with married people or people in committed relationships?

Have you read the previous post titled Money? It includes some "very good" comments from the followers and readers on how they handle the income of their household - some one income families; others, two or more.

Money

2010-05-19T22:02:00.007-04:00

The husband is employed. The wife is not. The pay check has his name on it. Is the money his, hers, or theirs?

The latest celebrity couple break-up that may end up in divorce court reminded me of an Oprah show I saw years ago. The socialite wife was defending her reasons for asking for a substantial amount of alimony from her wealthy, soon-to-be ex-husband.

While married, she’d spent much of her life managing his. Their social calendar was full; events to attend, parties to host, volunteering, and fund-raising. She also needed to spend time keeping in shape and staying attractive, i.e. spas, gyms, and shopping. And, their home needed to reflect his position, so she hired decorators, cleaning help, and caterers. She managed it all.

Most of the women in the audience thought she was spoiled and greedy for expecting a sizable divorce settlement – because the money was “his.”

Since becoming a stay-at-home mom, and often being in the company of other stay-at-home moms, I’ve gotten some general pictures of how various couples handle the money.

A few examples (in no particular order) of what different wives/moms have said:

- I pay the bills.

- He pays the bills.

- I’m glad I’m home to get the checks in the mail from his business, because we’d be broke if he gets to cash them.

- He works. It’s his money. He deserves a new car.

- I need to ask my husband if I can buy that.

- I don’t work, so I don’t want to spend too much on myself.

- I’m stressed. I think I’ll go shopping!

- He puts what I need in my account, and if I need more, I’ll tell him to put more in it.

Fortunately, my husband and I agree on most money issues, and the check with his name on it, is deposited into “our” account. I don’t “ask” for money; I’m a little too old for that.

I digress.

The money does not feel like it’s his or mine – just feels like it’s there to take are of ourselves, our home, our children, and our future.

A few years ago, I read a book titled, The Feminine Mistake by Leslie Bennetts. She advocated jobs and careers for women; that skills should not be lost. She also warned that women should not be caught without an income if the husband should leave or die.

While reading it, I was reasonably open-minded and objective – to see her point – and I did see some of it. But did it make me want to change my life; to get an income paying job and be a “working mom” example for my daughters? (I think she touched on that, too.)

No, not yet.

Did it make me afraid?

No.

Without going into personal details, I’ll just say that a few things are “in place” in the case of Husband and me not living out our golden years together.

Many aspects of our lives can be successful based on trust and wisdom, but some people will fail. And if that’s the case, I hope there will be a second chance.

What are some of your opinions on one-income households, joint accounts, separate accounts, alimony, etc?

Author/Book Signing Groupie

2010-05-14T23:40:00.007-04:00

A. J. Jacobs and me

look at my hands - I must have

been talking about my blog

I’ve been to three book signing events within five days. It’s become one of my favorite things to do. Does that put me in the nerd category?

The first event was held at Barnes and Noble. Stacy Hawkins Adams spoke about the path to the publication of her first nonfiction book, Who Speaks to Your Heart? plus entertained us with a Q & A, complete with book giveaways as prizes.

She’s had success with two series of page turning, Christian based novels, six books in all, and is now promoting her new book. I’m looking forward to reading my copy – autographed, of course.

Two days later, I was sitting in an audience at the Weinstein Jewish Community Center listening to A. J. Jacobs. I discovered him on…was it Oprah? Anyway, I saw him again on another talk show, too, promoting his book, The Know-It-All. This guy read the entire encyclopedia, but don't let that mislead you; he's quite funny.

I talked to him a minute or two while he signed copies of his other two books for me. I told him I was an information junkie. Too bad I can’t retain enough of it. Oh well, maybe in my next life.

Another two days later, I was at the Book & Author Dinner at the Greater Richmond Convention Center, sponsored by The Junior League of Richmond. This was a treat from a friend who knows how much I love books.

Six authors discussed their latest work: Sam Beall, Sarah Blake, Noah Boyd, Dean King, Phyllis Theroux, and Abraham Verghese. I decided not to purchase any of their books because I already have a few new books waiting to be read. But, from this group of authors, I will probably read at least one of the impressive books presented that night.

I’ve heard it said that surrounding yourself with people and things relating to your dreams, goals, and interests is “a good thing.” Eventually, you may accomplish your particular goal, but if not, at least you’ve had fun.

What is your "gotta do" or "gotta see" or "gotta go" thing?

(For those of you who speak the Queen's English - "gotta" translates to "I have to."

Child? What Child?

2010-05-04T15:05:00.000-04:00

It’s Saturday morning. Everyone in my house has somewhere to go…except me! Husband and two oldest daughters are volunteering at a home – fixing up, painting, etc. Youngest daughter has a digital photography class. I take her and her friend, Kylie, to the bus at the middle school at 9 o’clock, which transports them to the Math and Science Center.

Back home after the quiet drive, I take inventory of occupants. Yep, it’s just me and Layla the dog. No gotta-do errands, no appointments, no tennis lessons, etc. Hmmm…what shall I do?

I eat breakfast, digest, run for twenty-five minutes, and then walk Layla. I have a leisurely phone chat with one of my girlfriends before deciding to do something around the house.

The mound of clothes to be sorted and distributed to each child’s room, awaits…but…I think I’ll check email first and see if anyone has commented on my latest blog post.

Bloggy friends are in my in-box. “It’s going to get busy later, so I’ll write a couple replies and read a couple blogs, too…just for twenty minutes.”

Two hours later…

“AHHHH…Oh my God!”

It’s 1:50. "The bus will be back at the school in five minutes!" No time to empty my tea-filled bladder. I snatch the snoozing dog off the comfy chair, grab the leash, my purse, and the key, then race to the car.

During my four minute trip (I’m probably shaving off one of those minutes), I visualize the police coming from out of nowhere to stop me for speeding, and how embarrassed I’m going to be. More importantly, I’m planning my pity inducing story.

I pull onto the bus loop; no sign of the yellow bus. “Whew!”

(I was worried because no other kids get off at this stop, therefore, no other parents would be around; and my daughter’s friend was not with her on the trip home.)

Before I can relax and slow down my heart rate, I see it coming.

Daughter gets in the car. With a smile, I say, “How was your class Sweetie?”

What happened when you forgot your child?
No children? What important someone or something did you forget?
fess up :)

image from http://www.net-planet.org/

Menopause and Hot Flashes - Part 2

2010-04-21T15:40:00.016-04:00

my cashmere sweater

"Oh, I'm a little warm - must be a hot flash," as I laugh and say to my friend Renee. Husband is sitting with us, watching TV, as we catch up after not seeing each other for over a year.

In a surprised and hush-hush voice, she says, “You’re in menopause?”

“Yes. I AM fifty-two,” as I continue to smile.

“Really?” (not responding to my age, but to the menopause)

Now I’m feeling awkward. My smile is fading. Was I not supposed to say that? I’m lost in figuring out what the big deal is.

Husband doesn’t say a word – just keeps his eyes on the TV.

Seeing this, I assume he doesn’t want to get in the middle of this conversation, so I change the subject.

Our hour long visit goes well. We have fun talking about as many topics and people we can think of until she has to leave.

As we stand in my driveway saying our last good-byes, she says something about the current status of her life. Divorced a couple years ago, she’s still adjusting. I go into my encourager role, telling her to keep doing things that interest her. I bring up menopause again, saying one good this about it, is a renewed sense of freedom; an entry into another phase of life that solidifies you as a fully grown woman...blah, blah, blah

Quickly, she says, “Oh, I’m not in menopause.”

In my normal tone of voice, I say, “Oh, I know, but you’re almost forty-eight. You’re probably perimenopausal. That can go on for years.”

“No, I’m not. I don’t have any symptoms.”

“Well, I hardly have ‘symptoms’ (sounds like we’re talking about a disease), but your body is preparing to stop having periods. Those eggs don’t last forever,” trying to bring in some humor.

“I think it’ll be a long time before I’m in menopause.”

“Oh, did your mom have a late menopause, or your sister?”

“They had surgery, so I don’t know.”

“Well, why do you think so about yourself?”

“I don’t know…I just know…I’ll be sixty!”

“You don’t want a period THAT long!”

And so on…until I say…

“Trust me, eventually you won’t miss your period.”

I don’t think she believed me.

Followers and readers of ALL ages…guys, too…
How do you feel about the menopause conversation? Does it make you uncomfortable?

Ps. Since my first Menopause and Hot Flashes post, the hot flashes have decreased considerably. I wore my cashmere sweater this past winter without having to strip it off in a panic because of a hot-flash. Yay!

Call Somebody versus I'll Fix It

2010-04-14T11:17:00.000-04:00

“I don’t do electricity and I don’t do plumbing.” These are the words of my husband.

We’ve been married fifteen years. Our first home was an apartment; complete with a maintenance crew on the premises. Neither of us had to do anything beyond hammering nails or screws into the wall to hang pictures. The maintenance crew even came once or twice to plunge my overflowing defective toilet when I couldn’t get it to cooperate. Husband painted a room once, but I think that’s all we needed to do for the upkeep of our home.

The next home was a house…with a mortgage…ours. This is when the phrase “call maintenance” was replaced by “call somebody.” Husband loves gardening and keeping the yard looking lovely, and is outside whenever possible, but if the refrigerator malfunctions, he doesn’t touch it.

“Call somebody,” he says - meaning the warranty people, a plumber, or whatever repair person that can do the job.

Me…I go to my files to look for the instruction manual.

“I may be able to fix this.”

I’m thinking of saving us a few dollars.

The inspiration for this post came when having a conversation with two friends. Betsy was complaining about an incomplete job in her house that was started by her husband. “I’ll fix it,” her husband always says. And then he does, but it takes a month or more – a time of inconvenience, changing routines, and having to look at it day after day.

I told Betsy… “Oh, I have a ‘Call somebody’ husband,” and Robin chimed in with “Me too!” and says, “If it involves a ladder, my husband is NOT going to do it!

When it snowed over a foot, our husbands were wondering where the “college boys” were. The driveways needed shoveling. When the boys appeared, it was “mission accomplished” – somebody else’s back, their wallets.

Betsy then said, “Oh, I wish I had a ‘Call somebody’ husband.” I wasn’t surprised because she’s loves neatness and order in her house.

In fairness to my husband, he works hard, and I appreciate him. Like everyone else, he prioritizes, and it doesn’t always fit somebody else’s idea of how the “list of things to do” should be ordered.

Is your spouse a “Call Somebody” person, or an “I’ll Fix It” person? How about you?

What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up?

2010-04-02T21:24:00.000-04:00

Do you wonder what your child will grow up to be; what job will be landed; or, what career, profession, or business will be established?

When I was a little girl growing up in the 1960s, it was expected that an educated black girl child would grow up to be a teacher, a nurse, or a secretary. When asked what I wanted to be, the slightest hesitation in answering would prompt the person to say, “Oh, I’ll bet you’re going to be a teacher!”

I actually had no idea what I’d do, and received no specific guidance, so I took the recommended shorthand class in ninth grade…just in case.

Fortunately, I stumbled upon the data processing class that ultimately led to a computer programming career…not that there’s anything wrong with being a secretary.

So now I’m a mother. I can look back on those days and try to improve the process for my children. Living in a community where a large percentage of the adults went to college, and their children are going to college, the discussion of the children’s future is a major conversation.

What activities are they involved in?
What camps are they attending this summer?
Where are they volunteering?
What are their grade point averages?
What colleges are they looking at?
How’d they do on the SAT?
Will the private school challenge them more?
Will they take IB or AP classes?
Should we take in the foreign exchange student?

And so on…

These are the parents striving for the best possible education, getting the kids involved in many activities, and exposing them to culture, with hopes of getting them into the best colleges that will open more doors of opportunity for employment; in addition to the pride that will be felt by all.

At the other end of the spectrum, is the parent that wants a good education for the child, but leans more towards letting the child decide what the future job will be. When engaged in this conversation, I hear more of a concern for contentment that doesn’t necessarily require a certain college or “the big bucks” after college.

I might send my son to community college first.
My child just takes standard classes and I’m okay with that. She’s not in that advanced league.
I just want him to be happy and fulfilled.

And there’s the sports parent:

He can’t afford any more injuries; we need that scholarship.
Sports are so good for kids. My kids must play a sport.

Of course, I’m generalizing. I can pull from all these areas when guiding my children.

But how much should we guide? I know of a family that has a son at a very reputable college who has become involved in the plight of the Haitians. They’ve been successful at educating him and getting him into "the good college," but will he follow what may be a philanthropic “calling” on his life instead of going to work in a corporation?

I know of another family who loves living a simple life, with lots of kids and surrounded by horses and chickens. Will any of the kids in that family grow up and wish Mom and Dad had prepared them more for life in the corporation by putting more emphasis on grades, colleges, and culture?

During this time of brainwashing my children…oops, did I say that…I meant nurturing and preparing them, I instill in them the advantages of a good education, but also, the need to do something that they will be passionate about, as well as providing them with the lifestyle they’d like to have. I tell them if they want to live as we are living now, a low to average income may not be enough. At this time, I don’t know if either of the children will want a large house, or conversely, not care about square footage at all. I just hope they’ll be wise and modest in progressing towards their goals, and that they'll live a good life.

I don’t know what my kids will be when they grow up. Based on their current interests, if they were stepping into the adult world right now, one would be an artist, one would be a musician, and the other would be working in advertising, probably writing TV commercials.

What I do know – is that there should be a place for all children to be educated and trained for the many skills required - including parenting - to keep the world moving forward.

How much input and influence should a parent have in directing the course of their child’s future?

You Reap What you Sow

2010-03-27T20:46:00.000-04:00

I did it again! I ran the 10k!

Last year was my first time (See “You Go Girl!”), and it was hard, but I knew I’d run this year, too.

Was it fun? Hmmm…

I had a slight case of nerves when I started.
My legs felt heavy for a few minutes.
I had to weave in and out of slower people because of my wish to improve my time over last year’s time.
I had to tell myself not to stop - several times; especially when running on an incline. (The inclines were so, so little, but still, it felt like little mountains.)
And, I had to get rid of negative thoughts – wondering why my lungs didn’t work as well as the person who zoomed past me.

But, before all of that, it was ten weeks of training. I met the team most of the ten Saturday mornings, and followed the training schedule during the week days.

I was prepared, and I did well.

Last year, my time was 1 hour and 25 minutes, and I was very happy to finish the race, but this year was my challenge to improve. My time was 1 hour and 4 minutes. What I’d put into it, determined what I got out of it.

So again, was it fun? Yes, it was…although I would say, “highly satisfying” describes it better.

Now if I can only apply the principle of positive “sowing and reaping” to some other old and dusty goals.

Do you believe hard work results in achieving your goals?
Are there situations that never get “fixed” regardless of how hard you work at it?
(Any areas of life: health, finances, hobbies, household chores, education, careers, businesses, phobias, time spent with family, sports, habits…)

Teacher versus Parent

2010-03-18T14:41:00.000-04:00

Are you a teacher? A parent? Both?

As a parent of school-aged children, I’ve had many discussions with other parents about little Johnny’s or little Suzy’s performance in school, and also about the teacher’s performance. I’ve heard expressions of complete satisfaction or complete dissatisfaction. Fortunately, I haven’t had any major issues with any of my kids’ teachers, but I have been in conversations with other moms and dads who tell me how awful a particular teacher is, what they think about a teacher, or what they’ve had to say to a teacher.

She gives too much homework.
Why did Suzy get a D?
Why didn’t Johnny get an A?
We told you we were going to Disneyland and that
Johnny would miss a few classes!
She’s not into hugging the kids.
Suzy is not challenged enough.
That’s too many books to bring home.
Why did he even become a teacher?

And this is the mild stuff.

Parents – are we brutal? Do we expect these mere human beings to perform miracles with our kids?

Teachers – are the media correct when it says you are failing our children?

Years ago, I received a letter from a friend who was a teacher. It was full of grammatical errors, I thought, “Hmmm… she’s teaching someone’s child.

On the other hand, I know many teachers who are well prepared and dedicated to bringing out the best in a child. And, a large number of parents are very supportive of their schools and appreciative of hard working teachers.

Thankfully, we can not generalize about every teacher, every parent, and every child.

Does the teacher versus parent dilemma have an ending? Probably not.

Parents: Can you share any “teacher” stories…good or bad?
Teachers: Can you share any “parent” stories…good or bad?

Book Club

2010-03-12T10:59:00.002-05:00

These is My Words, by Nancy E. Turner, was a hit with the club; so much that we chose the sequel, Sarah’s Quilt, as our next selection.

Are you in a book club? Not a “book of the month” club that requires you to purchase books. I mean a real book club, the kind where you get together with friends or other book lovers to discuss a book you’ve all read.

I’ve been in a book club almost four years. By the time I’d joined the group of neighbors/friends that started the club in 1997, they had already read sixty-eight books. Since I joined in 2006, thirty-one more have been read.

The setup is easy. Our group has twelve members, which is not too many to share one conversation, and enough to have a good number present when some can’t come. At most of our meetings, we have eight or nine.

We (except one of us) live in the same subdivision which makes it easy to attend. No excuse for “not feeling like the drive.” It takes no more than three minutes to get to anyone’s house.

Our meetings are scheduled every six weeks, on Monday, at 7:30 p.m. Everyone participates in hosting at their home, which means there’s about seventeen months (or a little less) before that member will host again.

Between 7:30 and 8:15, we socialize; standing around the kitchen table eating light hors d’oeuvres and drinking beverages while everyone’s still arriving.

Then we move to the family room, or wherever the comfy chairs are, and begin. The host, who chose the book at the previous meeting, will tell a little about the author and then we all jump in to discuss the book…freely. Sometimes the host has a reader’s guide of questions from the back of the book or an Internet site, but mostly, we wing it. While we are a serious book club, we are not as structured as some clubs. No reports, presentations, homework, etc., and we don’t spank if a member has not read the book.

Sometimes we have lots to say; other times, we finish early - a sign that the book is on the B list or below - and we go back to socializing.

About 9ish, we have dessert and coffee while the person on the list to host the next meeting shows us potential books to choose from. Or, occasionally, she will make the decision without the others input.

Most of the time, I’m back home at 9:30.

This is our version of a book club. There are many other types, I’m sure. Libraries typically have book clubs, and then there’s always Oprah.

Are you in a book club? Ever thought about it?
If so, what’s your club like and what do the members get from it – fun? intellectual stimulation?

Can't Sleep?

2010-03-07T19:45:00.000-05:00

I’d been in bed since ten o’clock. It’s now eleven thirty-nine. For some reason, I can’t sleep.

My days typically start at 6 a.m., or 7 a.m. on the weekend. With three kids, a husband, and a dog, I’m busy taking care of their needs, plus my own, which results in nonstop movement until I go to bed at night. While I have the option to take a nap, I don’t. I prefer to go full speed all day with an immediate crash as soon as I finish reading a chapter or two of a good book while lying in bed, preferably by 10.

It’s Saturday. Today began with group training for an upcoming 10k. We started at 8 a.m. and ran over seven miles. Afterwards, I did an errand, came home, cooked breakfast, ate, showered and shampooed, folded laundry, ate leftovers for lunch, helped squeamish first child use the neti pot, talked to my kids and second child’s friend who slept over, put more air in the tires of two bikes for second child and friend, helped third child wrap a birthday present, took third child to the corresponding birthday party, searched high and low for old dance recital pictures for first child’s Spanish assignment, decluttered by trashing more of the useless paper in my office - piece by piece, wolfed down a quick mini-meal, picked up third child from the birthday party, trashed more paper, put on PJs, got in bed, read my book, turned off light…this is the part where I was supposed to fall asleep within two minutes.

It didn’t happen.

So I was lying there, tossing and turning, trying to figure out why I couldn’t sleep. Each child came in at five minute intervals and kissed me good-night - a comfort - but not enough to send me to dreamland.

Today, my husband and I realized we are going to have to make a big family decision very soon. I was thinking about it. Is “this” contributing to my sleeplessness?

The long run today and the constant movement, plus yesterday’s very busy day, which included horseback riding – is “this” the reason? Am I over-stimulated?

I also took third child for a horseback riding lesson yesterday (at a separate time from my lesson). I was thinking about that, and if I can keep it up. It’s another activity added to “Mom’s taxi-cab” route. Plus, first child is starting lacrosse on Monday. Gotta get on the phone and get the carpool organized.

All these thoughts going through my head…but you know what? I’m just plain ol’ hungry; like a baby who hasn’t had her last feeding. Soooo…I’m heading downstairs to find something filling, and then I’ll try it again.

What causes you not to be able to sleep?

Page down to the previous post, "Smiley Face Happiness Question" or click here, and give some thought to what your overall personality is like.

Smiley Face Happiness Question

2010-03-02T12:50:00.001-05:00

How much of your personality were you born with? How much developed due to the circumstances of your life?

Almost four years ago, I watched John Stossel, a TV journalist, conduct a survey with random people where he asked them to look at a series of Smiley faces, and choose the one that most represented their general feelings about their lives. Actually, there was only one that was a big, full smile. The others, I think, were a half smile, no smile, a little frown, and a large frown.

I looked at all the pictures, and "my" first choice was the half smile, number two. Then I said, “No, surely it’s the BIG smile.” But I couldn’t be certain, and ultimately, chose the half smile to represent my life.

Later – probably on Good Morning America – Stossel told Charlie Gibson and Diane Sawyer that he was more of the half smile. Diane, reluctantly, chose the half smile, too. Then, Charlie Gibson smiled and answered with an immediate, no-hesitation, “I’m the first one; the full Smiley Face.”

I was SO envious.

Why couldn’t I say that my general disposition was peaceful, positive, happy, and optimistic? I had no answer. There was no reason “not” to feel that way.

Sooo…I made a decision that day. “I’m going to be happy!” I went to my calendar with my yellow marker and drew a big U-shaped mouth and two big dots for the eyes; my version of a Smiley face. It was May 22, 2006.

It has taken effort to earn my "full" Smiley face. I still have days when I wake up and feel anxiety as I think about the long list of things to do. But, before my feet hit the floor, I force a smile on my face. I go to the bathroom, look in the mirror, and force that smile again. That gives me my first laugh of the day as I look at my puffy eyes and contorted face.

I’m not exempt from the hardships of life, and neither is Charlie Gibson, or the very large amount of others that chose the full Smiley face in the survey, but still, I plan to hold on to my full Smiley face status. How about you?

How much control do you have over your feelings?
Care to share which Smiley face (or lack of) you are? :)

The Stossel, Sawyer, and Gibson story and quotes are from my memory. Hopefully, I have summarized it acceptably.

Blogging Tip #2 - Non-bloggers - How to Comment

2010-02-23T16:29:00.006-05:00

Are you a reader of this blog, and NOT a blogger? Are there times when you’d like to add your opinion, share your thoughts, or ask a question?

I know you’re out there because a few of you have asked me questions when we’ve seen each other.

The purpose of this post is to help you with commenting.

About twice a week, I write about something and “post” it to my blog. I title it, and the software dates it. My entry is called a “post.”

At the end of the post you’ll see "Post a comment" if you're the first to comment. If you're not the first to comment, you'll see “Posted by Anita…” and on the same line, you’ll see the word “comments” with a number in front of it.

Use your mouse to point to "Post a comment" or the word “comments” and click.

Another screen will come up with comments from other readers (if you’re not the first to comment).

In the box labeled, “Leave your comment,” type your comment. Don’t worry about spelling, punctuation, grammar, etc. The appeal of the blog is “hearing” and “knowing” what you think. Read what others have to say, and consider it a conversation.

When you’re finished, use your mouse to click inside the “Word Verification” box, and type the letters you see above it. (If you type the letters incorrectly, at the end of the process, you are given more chances to do it again.)

Then, point and click on “Name/URL.” Click inside the box labeled “Name” and type your name. It can be ANY NAME. You can use your first name, first and last, a nickname, “dog,” “cat” - whatever. It’s just an identification you’d like to be known as on this post.

Click on “Publish Your Comment.” If all went well, you’ll see “Your comment has been saved” at the top of the screen.

Voila!

If you would like to add an anonymous comment - instead of clicking on “Name/URL,” click on “Anonymous,” then on “Publish Your Comment.”

If you’re wondering: I do not know your email address when you comment. There is a meter on the blog that tells me how many people “stop by” and from what city, but that’s it. So, if you’re a little reserved, you don’t have to worry about your privacy.

Hope this was easy to understand. If not, comment on this post (if you can), or drop me an email at noteforanita@gmail.com.

Be bold...comment on any post...try it!

Bloggers: How’d I do? If I missed something in this basic set of instructions, let me know. Thanks!

When I wrote the facebook post, many of you (bloggers) said you kept your bloggy friends separate from your facebook “friends.” Do you have a following or readership of "non-bloggers" that are NOT your facebook friends?

Non-bloggers: How often do you read blogs and how much time do you spend doing so?

Snow Days and Home Schooling

2010-02-19T14:39:00.000-05:00

All the days my kids were out of school because of the snow made me think of home schooling – not doing it – just thinking of others who do.

During one of the “snow days,” a friend, who doesn’t have children, asked if I’d “lost it” yet because the kids were home a lot.

“No, surprisingly,” I replied, “They’ve been home so much that it’s beginning to feel like summer vacation.

It prompted me to imagine what it would be like to have them home all the time; to home school them.

It was a fleeting thought...very.

But it did make me think of friends who “do” home school. I began to meet them when my second daughter started taking piano lessons at a studio. Because she was not in school yet, we went during the morning. Older children were there, too; they were the "home-schooled kids. "

I met several home schooling moms at the piano studio over the years; and even one of my girls’ piano teachers home schooled her three daughters.

Another place where I met home schooling moms was at my church. For a few years, while many of us were having babies, I was on the baby shower circuit, and discovered that a few of the new moms planned to home school, and they’re currently doing so.

Before I met these dedicated moms, I don’t know that I gave it much thought. Didn’t wonder why or how, just figured they had their reasons and “nerves of steel.”

Friends who were opponents of home schooling would always mention the “lack of socialization.”

As I began to spend time with home schooling families, I saw some of the most well-behaved, well mannered kids. Not that other kids aren’t, but proportionally, they seem to have more in the “good kids” ranking.

Academically, I’ve only known a few old enough to go to college. They seem to have fared like other kids - some went to the best colleges, some went to average local colleges, one got married, and one went to work.

It’ll be interesting to watch the path of the younger ones – the ones that are the peers of my kids – not that it’s a big deal. I think the home schooling hoopla is over – or is it?

What’s your opinion of home schooling? Do you home school? Do you know others who home school?

More thoughts on multi-level marketing? Page down to the previous post, "The Opportunity."

The Opportunity

2010-02-15T14:27:00.003-05:00

When I was a little girl in the 1960s, “the opportunity” for women was selling Avon or Tupperware. I have memories of an adult cousin selling Avon products; her home always filled with boxes, and the scent of her body as evidence that she believed in what she was doing.

Tupperware was another biggie. I don’t recall my mom going to a Tupperware Party, but we had a few pieces of the plastic, no leak, wonder containers in our kitchen cabinets.

When I entered the full-time job world in the 1970s, “the opportunity” was Amway and Mary Kay, both of which had been around many years – long before my introduction to them. Co-workers and neighbors in my apartment complex began to ask if they could give me a facial and make up my face. With Amway, I was asked to visit their homes to listen to a business presentation; an opportunity to make money.

It didn’t take long for me to realize that I don’t have “the opportunity” personality.

Soooo many people do, though.

Let’s see…some of the parties I’ve been invited to in the last thirty years are: Avon, Tupperware, Mary Kay, Stampin’ Up!, Arbonne, Southern Living at Home, Pampered Chef, USANA, Silpada, Premier Designs, Beach Body, Melaleuca, Pre-Paid Legal Services, Longaberger, Creative Memories, and Usborne. I’m sure I’m missed a few.

While I know I will never be a “consultant,” I have been known to attend a party once a year. Most of the time, I’m supporting the friend hosting the party, and expecting a “girls get-together.” Another party I attended because the consultant was recently separated and working very hard to earn money. A few times I’ve been because I actually had something in mind I wanted to purchase – a kitchen item or something for my kids, like books or crafts.

But now, the kids are older, time is limited, and everything’s at the mall.

I’ve known many people that have tried to succeed with “the opportunity,” i.e., invested in the start-up kit, bought a few of the products, booked a party, and quit...sorta like...a gym membership.

I know others that are rockin’ and rollin’ - and have been for years! They are the ones who believe in their product, have the gift of selling, and the winning personalities. I applaud them for their business sense and entrepreneurial spirit.

What’s your experience with multi-level marketing?
Are you a consultant? What’s your product?
Do you host or attend the parties?

Yes Ma'am, Yes Sir Etiquette

2010-02-11T15:57:00.001-05:00

I’m running through a quaint town, training for a 10k with several other people. Another slow-poke and I have fallen behind and decide to run together and talk. Fifteen minutes into the run, I tell her to run ahead if she needs to, and jokingly, I say, “I’m over fifty - I won’t be running much faster.”

We continue our conversation, but now when I ask her a question, she answers, “yes ma’am.” We’ve gone from being peers to mother figure/daughter figure, or teacher/student, or old woman/young woman, or queen bee/worker bee. It takes me a minute or two to get her back to talking about her job, kids, and friends, and to get her tone of voice back to the relaxed tone she started with; and then there are no more “yes ma’ams.” Eventually I find out she’s thirty, which “is” young enough be my daughter.

When I was growing up on the east coast of Virginia, some of my friends were taught to answer adults with “yes ma’am,” “yes sir,” “no ma’am,” or “no sir.” I was not. I was only required to say something behind the “yes” or “no,” like, “Yes Mrs. Jones,” or “No thank you.” Just saying “yes” or “no” was too abrupt, according to my parents. And now that I’m a parent, I have adopted the same thoughts they had. We are not a “ma’am” and “sir” household, but we appreciate those that are.

Kids saying “yes ma’am” tells me that their parents have succeeded in teaching them to respect adults, although, I don’t think less of them if they don’t add the “ma’am.” The respect is what’s important.

I can’t remember exactly when I was first called “Ma’am”, but I’m sure it was a shocker because I was still in my thirties. It was probably from a twenty-two year old, which made me wonder, “Do I look old enough to be your mama!”

Recently, a few couples were at our home, when the thirty-seven year old man guest said “yes ma’am” to the fifty-four year old woman guest. “Oh, don’t call me ma’am,” she said with a little annoyance. He responded quickly, “Oh, I’m sorry. I grew up in Alabama; it’s a habit!”

I’ve seen others react the same way. Is it because it makes them feel old?

I’m used to it now - I notice when I'm answered with "yes ma'am," but it doesn’t bother me. I’ve accepted my “mature” status.

We’ll never all agree on this topic and other matters of semantics and etiquette. My post expressing my thoughts on being called “Mrs. Michael Jones” received varied opinions. Soooo…I guess we’ll continue to form and conduct our own rules of etiquette.

Do you say “yes ma’am” and “yes sir?”

Loud Music

2010-02-06T15:57:00.002-05:00

The kids have been home for DAYS because of the snow. My routine…what’s a routine?

The bloodmobile is close by at a local church. I’m going. I’ll honor my decision to donate as often as possible.

It’s four o’clock. I hope I’m ahead of all the people who plan to donate after work.

I’m here. The parking lot is not too full; good. I have my book and I’m ready to step into the trailer, shut off my brain, ignore all of what’s going on around me, and read in between all the administration I have to go through. The actual donation should take ten minutes or so, and I’ll have a snack afterwards. I should be able to rest, read, and enjoy my respite from the house and children. Right?

WRONG!

I step into the trailer and I hear music - loud music! For a split second, I wonder if I’ve stepped into the wrong trailer; this must be the place to complete the sign in. The comfy chair in the quiet, serene atmosphere must be inside the church.

No, I’m in the right place.

“Okay Anita, you can do this. You can tune out the thump, thump, thump. Read a page. Get into the story. It’s a good book. Or maybe, just try to enjoy the music. Pretend you’re dancing around the house with the kids.”

Not happening. I’m annoyed. I’m wondering why CLUB MUSIC is playing at a place where people need to be relaxed. Do I tell them to turn it down? Will my blood pressure rise after they all look at me incredulously; this “uppity $#&!%” or “old lady” trying to tell us what to do?

I try reading again.

It’s my turn to be seated for the donation. I’m directed to one of the four lounging chairs and as I sit back, the blaring of the music is louder. I turn slightly to see that the embedded wall speaker is right next to my head!

I’m just on the verge of saying something when I’m moved to another seat because my right arm is not cooperating.

“Just take it Anita. Put down your book. Listen to the technicians talk to the each other, and to the jovial man on the other chair. You need to relax so the process will end quickly.”

Okay, I’ll admit it - I’ve gotten old…I guess. The women and the one man in the trailer appear to be in their thirties through forty. I wonder if this is uncomfortable for me because of my age. But, on the other hand, I hear loud music occasionally and it doesn't bother me; just not in the confines of a trailer.

As I think more, I’m back to it being more bothersome than not. Weddings can be challenging. Seems it’s okay when you’re dancing, but when you’re trying to talk to your dinner partner who is sitting right beside you and you still have to scream at each other…

Do I write a letter to complain? Do I risk taking away the pleasure they may be feeling as they endure their monotonous eight hour day? Hmmm… Probably not. So I didn’t get my half hour of vegging. I’ll get it later.

Does loud music bother you?

After you leave your thoughts on this post, page down to the previous post and tell us about your present and/or past jobs. And read some of the comments too. Good stuff!

I used to be a computer programmer

2010-02-02T17:56:00.004-05:00

Every once in a while, I find myself saying to someone, “I used to be a computer programmer.” And when I say it, the memories of my fifteen year career download and play in my mind for a few minutes.

It was 1994 when I left the job, but the memories linger. There were good times and bad times; and as I raise my girls, I try to categorize each experience to pass on to them - preparation for “Corporate America” - a place where they might start their careers, too.

I went in blindly - the child of blue collar workers - with not a clue of what to expect. Yes, I’d been “taught” what to expect, and did an internship, but, well…

It took some time to get used to the “team” concept. An independent spirit, I had to learn to trust people, but not get trampled on. My easy-to-read, error free programming code was a definite asset, but not enough. I needed to love the company and learn the business; love the meetings and care about what the company stood for and how it made its money. Did that happen? Well…not really, or not enough. I loved the technical, but struggled here and there with the rest.

My introduction to computers started when I was a high school senior in need of electives. A friend told me she was taking Data Processing at the vocational center and that it would be three credits. “Hmmm…one class, three credits…a bus ride off campus.”

She tried to explain what it was, and I blindly (I do a lot of things blindly) signed up too. Turned out I had a knack for it, and when the teacher said I could make $7,000 right out of high school or go to college and make $12,000, I thought, “Sounds good.” It was 1975 and most teachers hardly made $12,000.

There was no question about going to college; my parents, especially mom, had planted the “college seed” when I was still in diapers. It grew, I did my four years, and in 1979 was employed at an annual salary of $13,500. Woo hoo! Fifteen years later, in 1994, it had more than quadrupled.

Good money for a single lady. Had the house, the car, mutual funds, savings, a few nice suits, a great eating-out allowance and enough to hop on a plane for a vacation.

Do I appreciate those years?
Yes.
Was I fulfilled with my skill and knowledge?
Yes.
Do I miss the career, the pay check, and the nice suits?
No.
If I had it to do all over again, would I be a computer programmer?
I don’t know.

It’s hard to erase part of a life that has landed me in a comfortable place.

There are people who are passionate about their jobs and always have been. How fortunate they are to wake up most days with anticipation; to get paid for doing something they love.

I felt that way when I was in control of a project that was going well, yet at other times, I wondered how I could continue with the same career until I was sixty-something and retired.

My occupation afforded me a financially sound life, but is money enough? Does every surgeon crave the next patient to mend? Does every lawyer get excited as more and more business comes in? Is every best selling author thrilled to promote his or her book on the TV talk show circuit? Are the average John and Mary Doe happy with their average jobs and average salaries, and their good middle class lifestyle?

Hmmm….if it was only that easy.

Many people are currently unemployed or desperately holding on to jobs. They (you) may see this post as moot. Keep in mind…things change.

Have you changed careers/occupations during your adult years? What did you “used to be?”
Would you like to do something else now?

If you haven’t read my post titled, “Passion,” click over if you'd like.

What's in a name?

2010-01-30T16:23:00.002-05:00

What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.

Romeo and Juliette by William Shakespeare

The name of my blog, “Beyond the Diapers and Spills,” is also the title of a manuscript I wrote a few years ago. It’s about stay-at-home moms - mostly about our daily feelings - not so much about the specifics of diaper changes, colic, baby’s first steps, etc.

I was inspired to write it because people would ask me, “What do you do all day?” Strangers at the mall seemed to be puzzled as I pushed my fully occupied double stroller with another child walking beside it. Some satisfied their curiosity and asked questions, expressing a little surprise when they realized that I wasn’t on maternity leave; that there was no job to go back to in six weeks. It occurred to me that my life was a bit of an anomaly; that lots of people didn’t get it – especially when I stepped outside of small town suburbia.

No job? What about money? Aren’t you bored? Don’t those kids get on your nerves all day?

But there were others who said they’d “stay home” if they could.

So with tape recorder in hand, I interviewed twenty-seven stay-at-home moms (a few worked part time), asking questions about their lives, like, “How do you handle phone time?” and "When you're socializing at an adult party, what do you talk about - your kids, or other interests, too?"

In all, about thirty questions. I learned that there is much diversity in our thoughts, actions, and lifestyles – just as there is with everyone else.

The manuscript got shelved when I discovered blogging – no income, but immediate publication and feedback from readers.

My blog name is meant to reflect my life as a complete person. Being blessed as a mother and having the great duty of taking care of my children is much of my identity, but not all of it. I had to get beyond the diapers and breastfeeding to have this realization, and I would never trade those days. To everything there is a season - Ecclesiastes 3:1.

But lately, I’ve thought about changing the name. When blog surfers see the word “diapers,” do they bolt? I hope that many will stick around because I love hearing from everyone - female, male, parent, non-parent, young, old, from the U.S. and around the world!

How did you come up with your blog name?
If you’re not a blogger, how about your club, band, Bunco group, sports team…? What’s the history behind the name?

Connections to the Past

2010-01-25T11:30:00.003-05:00

My seventy-six year old mother has no pictures of her father who died of tuberculosis when she was three years old. Her widowed mother struggled with five children and lost many possessions during a few moves in the following years; pictures included. Mom has pieced her dad’s face together by looking at herself and her brothers and sisters, and by hearing them and her mother describe him.

Fortunately, my parents took pictures of my brother and me as we were growing up, and they managed to hold on to the tattered scrapbooks filled with black and white photos taken in the late fifties and early sixties. How exciting it was for them to be introduced to color soon after.

Because I treasure those old pictures and memories, I’ve inherited an appreciation for pictures, and also for video, letters, and journals. I have several photo albums, lots of video, and the recent addition of digital photos stored on computer hard drives.

My personal journal writing has been on hiatus for five years, but occasionally I write in three journals that I have for each of my daughters. When they were born, I started making entries – not many – just when I thought about it; mainly during bouts of insomnia when I was in my mid-forties.

I tell them how cute they are, about new accomplishments, habits, and difficult times, too.

No insomnia now, and I haven’t carved out time to write to the little darlings much. The last entry was in September, 2009, and prior to that was November, 2008. Still, I enjoy reading the journals; reminiscing.

I know people who run from the camera. (There are days when I do, too.) It may be during a special occasion or just an ordinary day. Sometimes I think, “We’re not here forever. Somebody is going to want to remember what you looked like, what you were interested in, how you felt.” So have pictures taken, write letters, step in the view of the video, leave a journal – don’t let your life have to be pieced together.

Do you have pictures, video, letters, and/or journals from your past?

Laundry

2010-01-22T14:36:00.000-05:00

Laundry is not my friend; never has been. Will we ever form an agreeable relationship?

What is it about laundry that makes it so difficult (for some of us)? I have a washer and a dryer just outside of my bedroom, living comfortably in a small laundry room, complete with two rolling bins and a closet for detergents, cleaning supplies, and miscellaneous.

Two of the three children place their dirty clothes in the sectioned bins, and I know where to find the dirty clothes of the other kid…still working on her.

The husband and I have a laundry basket in our bathroom that gets emptied in with the kids’ laundry when it begins to overflow.

So far, so good.

Okay…the bin with the darks is high. The kids are looking for their favorite jeans in the laundry room. When found, I do the sniff test, run the iron over them, and...no problem.

Well…yes...it is a problem.

I’m behind…AGAIN…on the laundry!

I’m waiting to wash a load because the washer is filled with wet clothes that are waiting for the clean clothes in the dryer to be taken out and put on the top of the washer and dryer, but it’s occupied with the clothes that are waiting to be folded and put away, that are waiting for its owners (the kids) to come get’em…which could take an eternity.

So once again, I’m searching for the solution, which I already know, but can’t seem to get implemented.

My friend, Beth, told me that she gets help and motivation from FlyLady.net. One of the bloggy friends mentioned that site, too.

Another friend, Linda, told me that her boys do their own laundry - and they’re seventeen and fourteen! Talk about envy. My girls do an occasional load when their underwear drawer is empty. They know how to use the washer and dryer; why am I so slow to get them on a schedule?

My friend Robin and I decide to take action to get caught up - one complete load (from the hamper to the drawers/closets) per day. We agree to call or email each other to ask if it’s been started or done. I start off on a roll, and get half caught up. I email her, but no response.

The weekend comes along and I’m behind again, and I know she is too, so I email her and tell her we’ll start fresh on Monday.

Monday arrives, I call her, and she says, “I KNOW YOU’RE NOT CALLING ME ABOUT THAT LAUNDRY!”

Actually, I’m calling her to see if she wants to walk. Talk about sensitive. Umph!

Soooo…I’m going to catch up, then brag to her, and see if she’ll want to be like me, and have laundry bins that are not spilling over.

What's your "domestic chore" challenge?

If you don't have one, it's okay to let the rest of us know that you're perfect. Really. :)

Got time to read another post? Click on a thumbnail below and leave a comment if you'd like. I read'em all.

Children

2010-01-19T16:52:00.006-05:00

“I don’t know how you do it with three kids, Anita. I only have one, and she keeps us running non-stop.”

A friend said that to me years ago when my daughters were five years old and under. His daughter was eleven and already well seasoned on the activity circuit. I was a new mother, oblivious about what was yet to come.

When my husband and I were dating, we planned to have three children. I was already thirty-six, but somehow I felt that I would conceive easily…it helped that I was able to feel myself ovulating. TMI?

The children came, although not the way I envisioned.
- They were all born by c-section, but…the experiences were not that difficult. (Ignorance is bliss.)
- I thought I would have a boy (for my husband), but…I didn’t, and I don’t miss having one of the precious little testosterone filled creatures. (My nephew comes for a week in the summer, and a few other quick visits during the year. I kinda get the "boy" experience - just a little.)
- When I was in my early twenties, I thought I’d be married before thirty and finished having children before thirty-five, but…I didn’t get married until I was thirty-six, and I still feel like a mother - not a grandmother. :)

Having three children is work. (At one time, I wanted a fourth. Ahhhh!!!!) Having one child is work. Having eight children is work. For many, “trying” to have a child is work, be it physically or by adoption. Still, most of us desire children, knowing all that it involves – joy, fun, nurturing, time, energy, exhaustion, and love; but also sadness, concern, and heartbreak.

I’ve heard moms respond when asked questions about the number of children they have. One mom was asked why her children were so far apart in age. She didn’t actually answer with this quote, but reading between the lines, I heard, “Duh, because I didn’t get pregnant for ten years.”

I was once told that I was microwaving babies, which I didn’t get initially. It had to be explained to me that that meant I was having them quickly. “Ohhhh…” I said. Too bad I didn’t get it at first, because I think it was supposed to be friendly and funny.

Or many of you, I’m sure, have heard, “You’re having another BOY!” (or girl) And what about, “You only have one. Ohhh…”

But there’s also, "I’m so happy for you!” and, “Congratulations!”

I digress.

There was a period where I wondered if I would be a mother. My doubts led me to think of other ways to have a fulfilling life. Just as I was contemplating a huge change, the husband and kids happened.

Just wanted to tell you I’m glad I have my husband and children, even as I enter the teen years. Really…I do. :)

What influenced your decision to have children and how many?

The children of Haiti need our help. Contact your charitable organization of choice if you're willing and able to donate.

facebook

2010-01-14T14:55:00.007-05:00

Never say what you will never do.

In early 2009, two friends and I were walking and talking. When the facebook subject came up, one friend had no input, and the other (also a blogger) said she’s not interested. I told them that I wasn't interested either, and told them why.

“I know a few people who are on facebook, and they seem to enjoy it. I think they “chat” with their friends and use it to find people from their past. I don’t have any interest in finding people I went to elementary school with, and I don’t have that much time to spend on the computer…blah, blah, blah..”.

In a nutshell, I didn’t get it; I didn’t know why people loooove it.

But that was…then.

Now…I’m beginning to get it.

When I started blogging, I announced my blog to family and friends via email, and added the link to my email signature. As I received replies, at least three people said, “I’m on facebook. Why aren’t you using facebook?”

Still, I was not fazed. Email was serving me well.

But one day, it clicked…I said to myself, “Anita, keep the blog link in your email signature, but also use facebook to let family and friends know of a new post to your blog!”

So…every time I publish a blog post, I pop over to FB and “write it on my wall.”

Example for non FBers: I type, “Today’s blog post is: Ebay,” then I click on “link” and type it in – http://btdas.blogspot.com/2010/01/ebay.html and "attach." I click on "share," type the security words, submit, and voila! – my message and blog thumbnail (blog post picture) is now on my wall.

When my “friends” (people who I have a facebook link with) sign on, my blog link is on their homepage, ready to be seen with a simple click – although people who have hundreds of friends who update FB constantly, may not see mine unless they scroll down.

If I’m interested in one particular friend or organization, I can go to my “friend list” and click on the icon to see the friend’s wall. Typically, I will browse their “photo album” to see vacation, wedding, and birthday pictures.

The avid FB users write random thoughts on the cold weather and snow, biblical scriptures, vacation tidbits, sports…you name it, they say it. It’s there for any friend to see and comment on, and the comments will be sent to the email inbox of everyone in a particular "conversation" - similar to blogging.

That’s the basics; easy.

I can see the appeal; families all over the country and world share photos and conversations. A friend of mine is selling her daughter’s Girl Scout cookies using FB.

Currently, I only use it for my blog. There is a mail function, but I don’t put anything personal on it; I’m afraid I’ll hit the wrong key and it will be there for all to see - not that my life is that exciting. I don’t play the games, send the hearts, etc. It’s that “lack of time/interest” thing again.

So, PJ at "Seens from the backs of my eyelids," I hope this gives you a little insight into the facebook craze. Thank you for suggesting it as a blog post. I’m not a model user, but who knows…next it could be twitter!

Do you use facebook? What do you use it for?

The media is crediting social networking for its help with the Haiti crisis. If you are able to help, contact your place of worship or your charitable organization of choice.

The Heebie-jeebies

2010-01-11T17:28:00.003-05:00

I’m on Facebook three times one day, and every time I go to a specific screen, a particular advertisement shows up on the top right side; smaller than a wallet sized picture, but very distracting. I’m grossed out, but see that it's an ad for a massage (I think), then ignore it and move on.

Later, I check back in and there it is again! On the third visit of the day, I realize it has an exit square and I click it. Poof! It’s gone. But, a window comes up to ask what I don’t like about the ad. I type, “It gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

The ad shows a picture of a man’s back in a horizontal position. On it is nine triangular shaped black spots – four sets – one on the right and a matching spot the left, and then a single spot at his center lower back.

I’m itching right now just thinking about it.

I wonder if the advertisement is working for the company. It didn’t work for me because I don’t know whose company is represented. But on the other hand, if I see it again, I’ll probably look before clicking it away, therefore, its name will enter my head and the company will achieve its goal.

Another thing that causes me nausea is a “used” bandage – not a big wrap type – just one of those little beige Band Aid types. Seeing it in a waste basket, on a street or floor, and especially floating in a pool, really creeps me out. Ugh! It doesn’t even have to have the underside, body fluid part exposed; it just does something to me.

All you psychologists out there – can you explain this strange mental condition? Or, anyone else care to take a crack at it? :)

What grosses you out?

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eBay

2010-01-08T15:01:00.001-05:00

I’m ready to jump on the eBay train! ...I think. Got my two books from the library, and thought about a potential first item to sell – now I just need to figure out how to do it.

In my previous post, Plan and Dreams, I mentioned that my friend Debbie and I were wannabe entrepreneurs back in the late 80s and early 90s. We never got anything off the ground, but what fun we had - brainstorming, researching, experimenting, and dreaming!

Life has changed immeasurably since then, but I still feel a pinch of excitement when thinking about a possible business venture, or even when someone else is doing something brave and new. It’s using ones creativity and independence. That’s why I like writing and reading the blogs, and the comments, too. It’s like having an unlimited connection to the world.

My eBay goal is simple. I want to sell some of the stuff in my house.

We’ve been blessed with a lot of stuff, but everything has its season, and after the season is over, it should go…not to the back of a closet, not to the attic, not to the basement, not in a cabinet, not in the trunk of a car, not to the garage, and not collecting dust within my view. It should go out the door – off the property.

If you’ve read my past posts, Collector or Packrat? and/or Decluttering #1 (because there will be a #2), you know that “stuff” is a recurring theme with me. So…in addition to giving things to charity, and trashing, eBay is coming on board.

What I hope to accomplish is to get my three daughters involved in all aspects of the process - taking photos, uploading, watching the bidding, packaging, mailing, etc. They will be more willing to get rid of their stuff (I hope), but more important, they will get some business experience; another exploration to help them figure out what they want to do as self-sufficient adults, living in their “own” homes.

So, I’ll be getting on the computer soon, figuring out PayPal, and whatever else I need to make the first dry run.

Wish me luck!

Are you an eBay buyer or seller? Give me all the advice you can! :)

Plans and Dreams

2010-01-05T15:36:00.001-05:00

I don’t have any New Year’s resolutions. Most of the specific things I said I would accomplish during a particular year did not happen. Simple things - like taking care of the mail everyday so that it doesn’t pile up. Difficult things - like finishing a manuscript and getting a literary agent. These are only two examples.

What I “do” hold on to, though, are my plans and dreams. I’m learning how to enjoy the journey of life without putting so much pressure on myself to “be” and to “do.”

A very good friend and I used to dream and plan our lives as future entrepreneurs. We dibbled and dabbled with ideas for seven years. Eventually, we went in different directions. I married and had children; she separated from her husband and began a new career (steady job with benefits) with a state government agency.

Reality struck both of us.

I learned from my relationship with Debbie. She spent so much time and energy chasing illusions. It was like, desperation - stemming from childhood issues, insecurity, and a bad marriage. She’d build herself up so high with an idea and the work she’d put into it, and then deflate like air coming out of a balloon when the idea failed - and then depression would creep in. But I give her credit – she was strong-willed during those wannabe-entrepreneur days. Somehow, she’d bounce back and do it all over again with another idea.

I’m not against New Year’s Day resolutions. I’m sure there are lots of people that find it helpful to make a commitment on January 1, and many are successful by year-end. For you, I sincerely congratulate you on your diligence.

For me, December 31 just flows right into January 1. Nothing changes overnight, but my plans and dreams are still with me, producing delightful little images that motivate me throughout the day when I need to get beyond that feeling of being overwhelmed.

Sometimes those plans and dreams can change before the day is even over, and I can evade the feeling of failure (didn't get that laundry done), and get excited all over again.

So I’m a little fickle.

Think back to five or ten years ago. Are you on the path that you thought you’d be on? Have you succeeded at the plans and resolutions you made in the 1990s or early 2000s?

Cookie Jars

2010-01-02T14:07:00.044-05:00

The first Santa cookie jar arrived in 1994. It was filled with the best home-made chocolate chip cookies ever, baked by my mother-in-law, Ruby. Little did we know - it was the start of a Christmas gift tradition.

For the next few years, we took Santa for a visit to Ruby’s house, where he’d get a fill of the delicious cookies, then return to the kitchen counter of his sweets-loving owners. (One of us has since reformed.)

After a few years, Ruby (now Grandma Ruby) filled and delivered a new cookie jar - a sophisticated, top hat wearing snow man.

One of our annual Christmas season visitors is Jim. He’d seen the first Santa displayed prominently every year, and decided to give him a companion, a snowman with a stylish blue and white matching hat and scarf.

Jim is Italian, so he named the snowman Tony Torrone and filled it with Italian candy - I think it was Barone’s or something like that.

Unbeknownst to each other, the two snowmen showed up the same Christmas.

A year or two later, Nutcracker Santa arrived carrying his candy cane and his bag of gifts, but most importantly, the nut-filled chocolate chip cookies.

It was the last cookie jar from Grandma Ruby. She died in 2003. The cookie jars are one of many things that give us daily memories of her.

Jim (now Uncle Jim) continued the tradition. Two more Santas would join the family in recent years.

The gold ball on the end of Santa’s hat had a little accident, but thanks to super glue, his outfit is back to perfection.

The array of cookie jars began drawing attention and remarks from our holiday visitors. One of our young visitors, Nirali, gifted my daughter Hayley with a penguin cookie jar. It was black and white with a yellow beak, until Hayley decorated it with colorful markers included in the package.

On two other Christmases, Uncle Jim broke the trend of the more common Santas and snowmen, by switching over to a moose and a reindeer. The reindeer has a big red nose, perhaps in honor of Rudolf. The moose is missing an antler. Hayley’s pitching arm was a little “off,” which caused the moose’s antler to break “off.” Maybe we’ll super glue it back on before it hibernates until next December.

Check out this snowman from Jim; isn’t he regal?

A couple of years ago, Uncle Jim began to fill the cookie jars with butter balls, made with his mother’s recipe.

My husband and Jim kinda have this “guy thing” going on. Each Christmas they give each other a gag gift. This year we received Maxine into the family. She came from an antiques store, so she’s peeling a little, but she’s welcome too.

The latest Uncle Jim cookie jar is our “Twas The Night Before Christmas” edition. It was an attractive centerpiece for our dining room table during our New Year’s Eve dinner with family and friends.

Hope you enjoyed the cookie jar tour!

p.s. In memory of my husband’s alma mater, another character cookie jar existed with the school’s emblem on it, but met with its demise, caused by yours truly. Oops.

What do you have “a lot of” that people notice when they come to your home?

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Birthdays

2009-12-29T14:32:00.002-05:00

I had a birthday recently. I’m fifty-two years old.

Gradually, over the years, I’ve gotten to a place where I will declare my age to any and everybody; not because I didn’t like my age before - more so, because I didn’t want a reaction or an opinion.

So why at age forty-nine, did I begin to volunteer my age and smile as I said it.

I call it “menopausal confidence.” Why not?

Although comfortable with my age, I’m not a big, “celebrate my birthday” person. I know a birthday is coming, but as it gets nearer, I’m actually oblivious to the date. Hard to believe, but I really don’t feel different on my birthday, except when I turned fifty. I planned an outing for the five of us at Great Wolf Lodge, an indoor water park - to do something memorable. Turning fifty meant I’d grown up. I was free to pick, choose, deny… whenever and whatever; to be honest about who I am and what I feel.

You might “get” what I’m talking about, or you might not. Some things in life, we can’t decide – it happens when it’s supposed to. We have to go through things. It’s a process.

I digress.

I played like a child at Great Wolf Lodge. It was a metaphor for how I want to live the next half of my life (yes, I plan to see one hundred years old). I want more fun, knowledge, and adventure added to the beautiful stillness of life that is blended in with the chaos; to absorb life, internalize it – not just have things happen around me.

At fifty two, things are good. Physically, I’m in good shape - relatively speaking. I take no meds, unless you count the allergy shots for grass, pollen, mold, etc. But, I do feel the joints and muscles not working as well as they used to. Sudden twinges and sensations come from out of the blue, a sign of things to come, I guess. My mother says she “broke down” at sixty. I’m holding out for longer.

Mentally, well…hmmmm…I’ll just attribute the lapses in the flow of verbal output to a brain that is so full of “great” thoughts and ideas, that it gets overwhelmed sometimes. How’s that for an explanation.

While some people love big parties and lots of attention on their birthday, others will not “confess” their age. I went through a period of conveniently forgetting my age when I was forty-two (which seems so young now) and had three kids, ages four and under. At the time, my stay-at-home mom peers (ages 30-35) would shout in the middle of the playground, “You’re 42! Wow! I’d have never guessed.”

Translation: Those three “babies” of yours threw me off. You’re old.

This used to happen two or three times a year, but recently, it’s lessened. Guess I’m beginning to look my age. Now, I welcome it when someone says: “Anita, you look gooood!”

“Oh, thank you!” as I smile.

I’ll take what I can get.

Do you keep your age a secret? Do you hate to see your birthday come around, or do you celebrate it?

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Grandparents and Snow Boots

2009-12-20T15:43:00.002-05:00

(Warning: clicking on "Shoe Carnival" has volume.)

I’m in Shoe Carnival, desperately seeking snow boots for my two youngest daughters. The snow is predicted to arrive within hours – six to twelve inches of it. This store is my last stop. The mad rush on boots, waterproof gloves, and snow pants by the residents of the town has already occurred. There are none; well, none that are fake-fur-lined and waterproof – not even rain boots.

As I’m foraging the aisles for an alternative, a salesperson sees me and zooms in for her “aha” moment – "another parent that I can sale fake-fur-lined 'suede' boots to, and some handy-dandy waterproofing spray!"

I buy the boots - two pairs - but not the spray; already have a can at home.

In the checkout line, a couple walks up behind me. It’s my girls’ piano teacher and her husband. She runs the studio where they’ve taken lessons for years. Jean is around sixty-five, and Dennis is a little older. We’ve become friends during the nine years I’ve known them.

One of them is holding a shoe box; the other, some miscellaneous kid stuff. The boots inside are for a grandchild. We begin the “snow discussion” about the urgent need for boots so that “our” kids will be able to play in the snow.

Yes, they consider the grandkids, “their” kids. I’ve seen Jean at their school activities, having a treat with them at Barnes and Noble, and picking them up from school; just a few of the many things they do with them, and for them.

Seeing them gives me a sentimental feeling; an appreciation for grandparents. I think of my mother, and how much she loves my children. I think about her being in another city and not having weekly contact, and I feel a little envy.

So this is a tribute to you, grandparents - those of you who do so many things for your grandkids. You baby-sit. You display their pictures on your blogs and in your homes. You feel the pain when the kids have health issues. Some of you are raising the kids.

And for those that are away from the grandkids - like my mom and step-dad - you are just as appreciated for sending the birthday cards, for talking to them on the phone, for coming to visit whenever you can, and for welcoming them any and every time they visit you. Thank you.

Many blessings to you all!

Because I had my children much later than the average age, I will be an older grandparent. My prayer is that I’m healthy and still young at heart, so that I can enjoy mine, too.

Are you a grandparent?
When you were a kid, did you have a relationship with your grandparents?

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Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays

2009-12-17T11:35:00.004-05:00

Santa Claus makes his annual visit to our neighborhood, sitting high up on a large fire truck. He’s led in by an official vehicle, sounding the sirens, and flashing its lights. It’s tradition for us to come out and greet him, and to socialize with the neighbors.

The firemen (all guys) are dressed in their gear, complete with the really cool hats, passing out candy canes. The kids are excited and the parents enjoy watching them. We’re all shouting, “Merry Christmas!”

It’s a good time for "Santa" jokes, too. A couple years ago, my friend said to me, “I think Santa’s had a little Botox.” Every time I think of it, I laugh. Santa was looking quite refreshed that year.

As the firemen ride away, some of them shout, “Happy Holidays!”

Because the “Merry Christmas” vs. “Happy Holidays” controversy continues, I can’t help but notice the greetings. For a split second, I think Santa is going to shout “Happy Holidays” too; to which I would have thought, “Something is wrong with this picture.”

But Santa was silent…just resigned to waving. The neighbors and I are calm this year and don’t coerce Santa into a “Ho Ho Ho,” as we usually do.

Oh, by the way, I heard “Happy Hanukah” for the first time while shopping - from a clerk to a customer. I thought it was very nice.

“Happy Holidays” is here to stay. It’s a perfectly cheerful greeting and it covers all bases, but let’s not get rid of “Merry Christmas.” A little common sense will let you know when to say it; especially if I’m wearing red and green, and a Santa hat on my head.

NOT! :)

What do you think about the "holiday greetings" issue?

The previous post, "Passion," has very interesting comments. Consider reading it and adding yours.

Passion

2009-12-14T18:34:00.001-05:00

I was watching some inspirational TV while ironing, when I heard the word “passion,” and how we’re created with this innate desire. Whether you believe it’s a gift from God, or something else, it’s wonderful to discover what it is.

Why do some people "not" know what theirs is; or if they do, why don’t they experience it?

One of my passions is writing. When I think back to my childhood days, I wrote in journals, and I wrote letters to my cousins in Michigan. I loved it when they wrote back.

Another hint of my writing passion (before I could define it), was my declaration, “I can write a book on that” every time something was discussed that I had lots of experience with, or on something that I’ve seen a lot of in my life.

It took years before I actually started “a book.” The birthdays came and went. The number of my years on earth increased, while the number of years I have left, decreased.

When was I going to fulfill my passion?

I started my manuscript on being a stay-at-home mom some years ago; interviewed several moms, organized it, and began the quest for publication. But on the way to the bestseller’s list, I was sidetracked by household management duties, volunteering, and summertime fun with my family…until I discovered…blogging!

I wrote a post titled, “Why I Blog," but I didn’t connect writing with being a gift. My light bulb moment suggested that I write/blog more about it.

My horseback riding teacher had me and the girls, and our husbands, over for a Christmas luncheon. Betsy prepared a delicious meal, set a beautiful table, and had Christmas decorations in all the right places. The atmosphere was worthy of being featured on the Food Network.

Parties, entertaining, cooking...she loves it!

When I complimented her, she explained that it’s her way of creating, “like artwork,” she says.

There have been times when I didn't get it, but that day, when I looked into her beautiful face glowing with pride, I thought, "this is her gift." She said, "Everybody has one." I pondered for a split second, and accepted that mine is writing; that I can claim the “writer” title without being a great writer. "Betsy," I said, "Given a simple piece of paper and a pencil, I can put something on it – always." She told me that she can’t do that, and I know others who feel as she does.

She smiled and said, “That’s your gift, Anita; your creativity, your passion.”

What’s your passion?
I’ve heard it said that you know what it is, because you crave it and you do it even when you're not paid.

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The Phone

2009-12-10T10:20:00.004-05:00

A very good friend of mine has a “first” grandbaby, born six weeks ago, and I have not talked to her yet. She lives in Maryland, but that’s no excuse, because there’s always “the phone.”

I’ve lived in many cities across three states, been employed at various places from ages fifteen through thirty-six, been a member of two churches, and now have kids at two schools. In all these places, I’ve made new friends. Many have dropped by the wayside; many, I still have. And then there are the relatives…lots of them.

How do I keep in touch!

I think I’m considered a “people person” because I can talk to almost anyone; occasionally, for long periods of time.

The problem: there is only twenty-four hours in a day. I enjoy talking, but my other interests and obligations take up significant amounts of time.

So what do I do?

When I’m home, I answer most recognizable calls, but when voice messages are left, I take days to return the call – sometimes a week or two. Ouch. I’m guilty.

Of course, I always answer phone calls from my husband…I do! But, we’ve discovered email works for us too, therefore, we don’t take up too much of each others time during the fleeting day. (My second shift starts at 2:45 when darling daughter # 3 gets off the school bus and I have to be ready to talk to her.)

Sometimes you gotta talk. It’s a girl thing. I have two close friends that are my “let me run this by ya" friends. We have to be available to each other for venting, favors, questions, and just, “how ya doin’ today.”

Oops…forgot about Mom. We talk once or twice a week. Gotta hear the latest gossip and get an update on all the latest ailments that she and my stepfather are having; plus she has to be my “mom” and make sure I’m “livin' right.”

When my phone rings in the evening, it’s typically a “quick” call from an over-worked mother. Other times, it’s someone who doesn’t have kids or their kids are gone. It’s their “free” time.

Some tell me to call back when the kids are settled, but by that time, I’m talked-out for the day.

Sooo…things probably won’t change for awhile. Just know that I love talking to you – just not right now.

Just kidding. :)

Most of you probably have limitations on your phone time, too – or do you? What’s your phone time modus operandi?

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Activities

2009-12-07T22:13:00.001-05:00

It’s piano recital day. The middle child (11) and the youngest child (9) are performing at 11:15. Not bad. It’s Saturday; we have time to get dressed and eat without rushing.

Middle child already has her outfit planned; youngest child does not. This requires help from the mommy, who goes to her closet to make a suggestion, only to find that all the fall/winter dressy pants and skirts are gone.

“Oh, that’s right…I gave them all away,” the mommy remembers.

(See post titled, “Decluttering #1”)

The mommy and youngest child go to middle child’s closet where they find a skirt. Youngest child has to wear tights (that are more like hose) and gets upset because of the sagging crotch. The mommy and middle child tell her how to pull up the tights, but youngest child is resisting. A battle of the wills ensues and the mommy wins.

Later, the mommy finds youngest child sprawled on the living room floor; no audio and no kicking (she’s wise) – just lying there sending the mommy’s blood pressure up higher.

The husband/daddy drives to the church while the mommy tries to calm down. Her arm and shoulder feel a little achy. She wonders if she’s having a heart attack or a stroke, but it occurs to her that it’s her over-used blogging arm, which extends to the hand that maneuvers the mouse.

“That’s a relief,” thought the mommy.

Middle child and youngest child perform fairly well.

After their performances, youngest child is noticeably relaxed. The mommy wonders if she was nervous this morning before the recital. All three of her kids have done recitals for years – sometimes they’re excited and sometimes they’re not.

It makes the mommy question their interest in playing the piano and their other present and future activities. Oldest child is loving sports and is practicing daily from four until six o’clock. The husband/daddy is worried that she's not getting enough sleep because she's up late doing homework, and he's wondering if it is a good idea to do sports the entire nine months of school. The mommy thinks it is a test of mental and physical toughness.

A close friend of the mommy has a boy and a girl who have been involved in several activities and have suddenly lost interest in most. The two friends have discussed many things concerning activities, such as: the possibility of being over-scheduled, the passions and interests of the kids, the activities insisted on by the parents, the kids’ talents, letting them quit something or making them continue, academic pursuits, health, exhaustion, down time, volunteering, grades, etc. - a lot to weigh.

The piano lessons are considered part of the kids’ education and will be continued because the mommy and husband/daddy feel that it is good for them. They will assess each new opportunity or possible change as it comes along.

Do you let your child/children decide their activities, or do you decide, or is it a joint decision? I’d love to hear about some of the things they do, and I think others would too. :)

Blogging Tip #1

2009-12-03T22:34:00.005-05:00

My first post was on December 2, 2008. Since then, I’ve fumbled my way through learning a few gadgets and tools that have made it better and easier to communicate with my followers and readers.

Still, I have so many unanswered questions, and I know there are more possibilities out there that I haven’t even imagined that will provide me with more blogging fun.

My question for this post: How did you decide “the look” of your blog background and template?

Actually, I have more questions.

And: HOW DID YOU GET THE THOUGHT FROM YOUR HEAD TO THE BLOG ? ? ?

I Googled “blog backgrounds” and “blog templates” and now I have a slight headache. And, my REALLY slow computer is not helping.

Let’s see…I found “The Cutest Blog on the Block.”
I found a “Photoshop” tutorial.
I found “Hot Bliggity Blog.”
I found “Scrap My Blog.”
I found “Blogger Templates.”

How do I decide?

Is it all safe to use?

And, how do you all get those big, beautiful photos on your home page?

I’d been thinking about a possible background change for a while, when one day, I pop in to visit my blogging pal, Menopausal New Mom, and there’s her new colorful caricature blog expressing a piece of her life. It made me smile.

I wondered, “Is it time for me to make a change?”

So, I asked her (blogged her) to find out how she’d done it. She replied, "Look for Mary’s button on my page."

“Button?”

“What’s that?”

After scanning “her page” for two minutes, I see it – right there in front of my face. It’s “Blog Rock by Mary.”

I head over to her sight.

But what do I ask for? Hmmmm…

So, until I make up my mind, I’ve decided to change to plain ol’ Blogger supplied Minima Lefty. Oddly, I like it.

How does a blog design impact your decision to visit and read the blog?

And...I'm all ears to "hear" what you used to create your blog "look."

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Decluttering #1

2009-12-01T13:52:00.002-05:00

The decluttering process continues.

To describe where I am, I’ll just say that I’m on a never-ending road of “Taking two steps forward, and one step backwards.”

The last time I spoke on this subject was in April 2009, in my post titled, Collector or Packrat. It was the beginning of “journaling” my recognition of having too much stuff.

Collecting stuff and sentimental attachments to stuff have been a lifelong trait of my personality, but I realize now, that the sight of it takes up too much valuable space in my brain - a brain that has gotten older and more mature, and that does not want to waste time or energy.

So, once again, I start.

I gather the troops (my three daughters) for closet cleaning. Each of them has a spacious closet filled with clothes…and you’re right…they don’t even wear half of what’s there.

The reason for keeping the clothes is to save from the first child for the second, and to save from the second to the third.

It’s not working.

The oldest child is tall. The middle child is short. The youngest child is tall, but not interested in waiting to grow into clothes from her oldest sister.

The remedy - hold the kids hostage in their rooms while asking about each item of clothing.

I am very pleased to say that we have packed fifteen bags of clothes to donate.

Where did we get all these clothes?

More than half the clothes are from my friend/neighbor, and some are from the girls’ cousin, Michelle. When we get a surprise drop-off of clothes, my girls dump out the bags and begin staking their claim on each item of clothing. I’m glad they still appreciate the generosity of others.

When the next drop-off comes, we’ll immediately pack what we can’t use.

(I should write that one hundred times on lined paper, like I had to do in elementary school as a punishment.)

There are still more clothes to donate. As I write this, I’m making a decision to be finished with packing unused clothes - THIS WEEK!

Check back with me.

Are you saving clothes? Do you still have that “almost new” jacket from 1990 – waiting for it to be stylish again? Or maybe it’s the abundance of clothes that are too little that you’re waiting to fit into again? Hmmmm…

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Holiday Weight

2009-11-25T16:06:00.001-05:00

I stepped on the scale this morning to see that I am four tenths of a pound from my maximum, self-imposed weight limit.

I repeat – four tenths of a pound, NOT four pounds. I think I’m in trouble.

It’s that time of year; my daughter’s birthday cake stares at me every time I enter the kitchen. “Take a slice Anita, or even just a pinch” it says.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving; more cakes and pies. But even if I hold back on the sweets - the bread, gravy, sweet potatoes, potato salad, cranberry sauce, and macaroni and cheese at mom's house (yes, we’re southerners) will take its toll.

Thanksgiving is one day - yes - but leftovers will last a few more days, at which point, the Christmas cookies will begin to appear at every venue. Not even my favorite sweet thing, but still, I’ll have “one” everywhere I go.

And then there are the obligatory nuts, candies, and caramel popcorn bought from the Girl Scouts and Boy Scouts two months ago, that have been timed just right to land at the door step this month.

How many parties this month, and next? So far, two for me, but surely there’ll be more gatherings, hence, more temptations.

I’m not a heavy person - partly due to genetics; mostly due to exercise, pulling myself away from the table, watching the scale, and vanity. (Just kidding…I’m not vain…really.) But also, I’m definitely not exempt from the battle of the bulge, the evidence being: two sizes of clothes in my closet, and photographs that don’t lie.

Maybe this will be the year that I won’t find myself squeezing into my pants by Christmas, and desperately trying to run it off in January. If I can continue to run (or walk) in the cold, windy, cloudy, damp, and/or rainy weather, I might emerge victoriously. Or, I can try “again” to exercise indoors, which is going to be hard to do because my treadmill has issues and the exercise shows on TV are too easy to walk away from. Hmmmm...

Okay…think positive...cut back on the cookies…exercise….I’ve said it…that’s my plan…I can do it!

Ha Ha

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

What’s your plan? :)

Moms and Friends on the Tennis Courts

2009-11-20T16:55:00.001-05:00

My last child went to all-day kindergarten in 2005. I’d spent ten years taking care of children around the clock. At least one of my girls was always with me; mostly while running errands or doing kiddie activities.

As we drove in and out of our neighborhood, my eyes glanced over to the tennis courts. Women were dressed in their little skirts and visors, swinging rackets and having fun.

“Who were these women?”

“Where were their kids?”

While I wanted to be with my kids, I was a little envious.

Now, I’m one of these women. I’ve been taking tennis lessons for a year, but today I played in my first tennis tournament, a charitable event organized by my tennis teacher. She called it, “Tennis for Turkeys.”

As I prepared to go, I thought about the day being Friday, a weekday, and how most people are going to their jobs. It was a strange feeling, “People are going to work and I’m off to play tennis.”

Some of those people love their jobs, but many don’t. Others are spending the day seeking employment. I wonder what they think when they see people on the tennis courts, biking, etc., as I once thought - wondering how they had the time and “took” the time. (Can you tell I’m from a working class family? :) )

I have this thought sometimes, because people tell me how “lucky” I am.

I don’t feel “lucky.” The path to the tennis court has been long and hard. I feel blessed because I “can” take time for leisure – a necessity for my sanity.

Like everyone, I have my good days; I have my not-so-good days. I have periods of stress and periods of smooth sailing. Today is a good day.

I encourage everyone to do your best, whatever it is – work hard, play hard!

Are you doing the WORK and PLAY of your choice?

Share a thought and leave a comment; and read the comments of others, too. (Click on the word "comments" at the bottom of the post.)

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TV Commercials

2009-11-18T21:51:00.003-05:00

The girls and I are sitting at the kitchen island eating dinner. (Husband/Daddy is at work.) We’re having fun trying to solve puzzles on Wheel of Fortune. Commercial comes on: “Lisa Ling reports on porn and erotica. Meet the world’s most famous porn star; on the next Oprah!”

Commercial during ABC World News: “Cialis, for treatment of erectile dysfunction – so you can be ready anytime the moment is right” as a couple begins to caress one another. And let’s not forget the possible side effects: "...a decrease in vision or an erection lasting more than four hours."

The kids get to learn current events AND how to maintain an erection.

Tell me please…Am I the only one who notices how commercials with sexual content are blasted on TV during family shows like The Wheel? We’ve seen promotions for shows like Grey’s Anatomy, showing couples beginning to tear each others clothes off - right in the middle of Vanna turning the letter lights on and our next forkful of macaroni and cheese?

"What’s happened to me? I think I’m a prude."

"Oh, I know! I have three young, impressionable children. Gee."

So what might I do when the adult commercial comes on?

1. I start a conversation to distract the kids from the TV, which is awkward because they know what I’m doing.
2. I hit the mute button on the remote control if I can grab it fast enough, which appears to be a desperate act.
3. I steal one of President Obama’s recent phrases and have a “teachable moment” with my kids, which bugs me to have to do when I’m caught off guard by the commercial or promotion.

I know families that don't allow their children to watch TV. I wonder why? Not all are the stereotype that you may have in mind. People make the decision for various reasons, one of which is to promote creativity in their children.

Watching TV during dinner is not a daily habit, but we occasionally enjoy competing during Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy. Is it time to give up watching these shows and the news so that “I” can steer my kids in the direction of a good and healthy sex life instead of Oprah, Cialis, and Grey’s Anatomy advertisements and commercials doing it for me?

What do you think about commercials promoting products or shows?

Barbershop Harmony

2009-11-16T15:44:00.006-05:00

“Come on kids – we’re going to see a show choir today!”

This is the best description I can give them in an attempt to muster up some enthusiasm for a “cultural” outing.

We enter the building to see three “older” women at a table outside the theater doors. Hmmmm… Something feels different, but I can’t quite determine what it is. The women are smiling and very welcoming as I hunt for money in my wallet. It looks as if I am short on cash. One woman has a look of concern on her face, as if she thinks I’m going to turn around and leave. But, I find the money, and I can almost read her mind, “Got’em!” (I realize that it probably wasn’t just the income she was concerned about, but more than likely, she really wanted my kids and me to see the show.)

We walk through the theater doors. It’s very quiet. What’s missing? I don’t hear the sound of loud children. But what I do notice from the rear is: white hair…lots of it. There’s gray hair, too; heavily sprayed hair, bald spots, sport coats, and people sunk down in their chairs.

“It’s old people!”

"Okay...not 'everyone' is old."

Mama Duck (me) and my three Ducklings walk down a center aisle to the front, cross over to the right, and come back up to the third row. I am ready to be entertained! My kids… well, I’m a little leery.

“Pleeeeease be entertaining for them,” I say to myself.

Four men come out dressed in baseball jerseys. I peek at my three girls. They have that “deer caught in the headlights” look. The “mature” barbershop quartet begin singing a cappella. I’m still skeptical; can my girls make it through the whole show - awake?

The next act is the women’s choir. They’re dressed in baseball jerseys, too. Many of them have the sweet, cushiony grandma look, but others are in their forties and fifties; a couple of them may be in their thirties.

The act includes props, hand movements, swaying, and tapping. The different singing voices is producing beautiful harmony. Now, my kids’ faces have a relaxed countenance. We all settle into the rest of the show which includes five women quartets, all recent competitors in Sweet Adeline.

In addition to the display of talented singers, we are entertained by their comedic talent, too. The kids are soaking in the “blonde” jokes, surely to be repeated in the car on the way home.

I’m glad we did this, thanks to my friend Karen who is in the chorus. The kids have learned something new, and I have, too. It’s been a loooong time since I’ve been in an audience watching and listening to a cappella.

What shall we do next? Hmmmm…

Have you (or you and your family) been somewhere and found yourself surprised at how much you enjoyed it? What did you do?

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Oprah

2009-11-12T15:43:00.000-05:00

Like her, love her, dislike her, hate her, don’t care…where do you fit in this array of emotions?

I can’t remember when I began to watch The Oprah Winfrey Show. It started in 1983, four years into my official career as a computer programmer, which means I was not a daily viewer. Maybe I discovered her on a “sick day” in one of the early years of her show. Whenever it was, she got my attention, and I've been watching on and off since.

The reactions to my acknowledgment of watching the show have varied. If “Oprah” comes up in a conversation, the people who don’t like her because of her media power and influence will typically make a quick, strong, negative statement and then change the subject.

The people who looovvvvveee her assume I looovvvvveee her too, will smile with delight, and immediately talk about one of Oprah’s most popular shows, or about her philanthropic deeds.

Others see the show once in a while and will discuss it freely, but I can tell there’s no lasting impression of Oprah or her show and that they don’t care if I watch it or not.

Some of my Christian friends (I’m a Christian, too) are disappointed to know I watch the show. When Oprah was promoting Eckhart Tolle’s book, A New Earth, and leading the related online class; “Oooooooo” I needed a good tap on my hand for that! :) (By the way, I didn't watch or participate.)

Don’t know where I’m going with this, but it’s probably a little “soap box” about why I watch Oprah.

The simple answer is: I’m informed or entertained by many of her shows. If I’m home to turn on the TV and see a show that interests me, I watch; if not, I turn it off. I either agree with the content of the show, or I don’t.

A talk show and news junkie since Merv Griffin, Donahue, and the morning shows, I was a prime target for Oprah's show when she started. My interests have changed as I’ve matured, which coincides with my interest in particular Oprah shows. Books, make-overs, health, and give-away shows have been my favorites. While the latest “crime,” “abuse,” or “disaster” show saddens me, I usually watch. The celebrity shows - I can take or leave, and the “spiritual” shows don’t interest me at all. I pass on the “adult content” shows, too, because my kids are usually in and out of my office (the kitchen), the location of my TV viewing.

Lately, I haven’t watched because the show time is earlier, just when my older kids are coming home from school. I talk to them and usually forget to turn on the TV to see who she has on.

I’m familiar with Oprah’s statement: "Stay-at-home moms have the hardest job on the planet." She knows who’s watching. We make up much of her viewership and the shows are tailored towards us, so if we decide to watch, well…go for it.

I admire Oprah’s talent, her skill at entrepreneurship, and her giving spirit, and I wish her well.

Do you watch Oprah? Whether you do or not, how do you feel about her or her show? If you do watch, which type shows are your favorites?

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Michelle Obama

2009-11-10T22:39:00.005-05:00

warning: clicking on some of the links have volume - mute if necessary

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Today, Sesame Street celebrated its 4oth birthday show with an appearance of the First Lady, Michelle Obama. The promotions of the show were seen by my eleven year old daughter, Kelly, who promptly put it into her mental database. She knew she’d be able to watch because she’s been ill and recuperating from a virus. (Was it the infamous Swine Flu/H1N1?)

Her interest was low keyed, yet it was obvious to me that she really wanted to see the show – a show that she hasn’t watched in years. She turned on PBS at 8 a.m. looking for it. It wasn’t on. She turned back to the channel again at 8:30 a.m. - still not on. Noticing a pattern, I went to pbskids.org, found the schedule, and told her the time of the show - 10 a.m.

At 9:58, she said, “It’s almost time, Mommy.”

I hadn’t said that I would watch with Kelly, but she’d assumed I would. So, I pulled up the ottoman close to the sofa, put my feet up, and pulled part of her blanket around me, where together we snuggled up to watch Sesame Street.

Kelly and I pointed out all the Sesame Street changes as we watched. The theme song is a bit jazzy now, and Burt and Ernie were in claymation. We noticed Elmo’s lack of ears – any thoughts that would keep us patient for the emergence of Michelle Obama.

Just as my head fell over into a nod, Kelly announced, “There she is Mommy!” And there she was, surrounded by the Sesame Street monsters. We watched as she talked to the furry characters, and real kids too, about planting vegetable seeds. Three minutes later, it was over; she was gone.

Kelly looked at me and exclaimed, “That was it? Vegetables? That’s what she always talks about!”

“Well Kelly…it 'was' interesting...”

Slightly disappointed, she replied, “Yeah.”

Since Michelle Obama and her girls came on the scene, my daughters have been quite fascinated with them.

“Mommy, I think Mallory looks like Sasha.”

“Malia is only eleven – she’s tall!”

And so on…

Because the Obama kids are not on TV much, my daughters are limited in how much they can talk about them. I’m sure Kelly was hoping that they would’ve been on the show today with their mom.

I kinda like this growing interest my children have in the wife and children of the President. It’s a nice addition to Miley Cyrus.

Who excites your kid(s)? Who excites you? :)

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My Sudoku Addiction

2009-11-09T15:00:00.005-05:00

I discovered Sudoku in 2005. My niece had a puzzle book during our beach vacation with her family. As she sat at the dining room table working the puzzle, my eyes zoomed in on the page of numbers, and it was love at first sight.

warning: clicking on ColorKu has volume

You would think that I’m a math geek, but I’m not in that particular intellectual group of people; I just like puzzles – jigsaw puzzles, crossword puzzles, and fill-in puzzles (words and numbers). My latest discoveries are ColorKu and Numbrix (in the Sunday newspaper insert-Parade magazine, and online) – love both games!

Sometimes I wonder what kind of mind craves this type of entertainment. I’m nowhere near expertise; actually I’m not even very good, although I think I can be if I spend at least five hours every day playing. My family and home would suffer, like, our bills may not get paid or we may not have clean clothes, but at least I would be able to claim being a master at SOMETHING!

My eleven year old daughter enjoys Soduko, too, and all the other puzzles I mentioned. If she has time for her ol’ mama, she’ll join me as I sit concentrating and contemplating my next move or entry. Together, we’ll squeal with delight as we figure out each move toward our goal.

My nine year old daughter is headed in the same direction. She likes Sudoku and ColorKu. On the other hand, my thirteen year old daughter will stop and watch for thirty seconds, if that, and move on. But…there is hope! She’s helped us solve a ColorKu puzzle a few times. She said, “I think I may like this. It doesn’t have all those numbers all over it.”

“That’s my girl!”

Why my brain is wired to like puzzles, I don’t know. Some people love to shop…I don’t. Some people love creating by cooking – I don’t. Some people love politics – I don’t. We’re all pieces of a puzzle and when we put all the unique pieces together representing our interests and talents, we have a colorful and fascinating picture!

What is your addiction(s)? Does it help (or hurt) your mental and/or physical state? I already know what some of you will say…blogging! :)

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A Date with My Daughter

2009-11-06T15:23:00.000-05:00

The choice was hers. We went to the movie theater and saw “Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs.”

* * * * * * * * * *

It’s the first time Mallory and I go to a movie together…just the two of us…no big sisters. Before we leave the house, she seems hesitant.

“Do you want to go?” she asks her sister Kelly.

Kelly answers, “nope.”

Mallory is disappointed. I decide to be “the good mommy” and tell her that she can invite a friend.

It’s not meant to be – the friend is not home.

“Do you still want to go; just the two of us”?

She smiled, “Yes, I do.”

The thought of having her mommy to herself “clicks.”

* * * * * * * * * *

The movie is animated. I settle in for my typical lukewarm feeling.

But something’s happening. I’m beginning to enjoy the movie, and it’s only the beginning. I’m laughing….I’m laughing again!

(If you have a food obsession, go see this movie that’s based on a book with the same title.)

The food begins to rain from the sky. My first reaction is, “Oh, yum,” but now the characters are so gluttonous and it’s not a pretty picture. But…Mallory and I still decide to finish sharing popcorn and a soda.

* * * * * * * * * *

It’s not often that I do something with only one of my children. Sure, I’m alone with one of them when I’m taking her from one place to another, but a planned date is rare. Some time ago, a friend suggested that each of my children have a date with me. She gave a few reasons, one being, to make them feel special. It sounded good; I was sold. I put it on my list of things to do.

But, I didn’t do it. The kids don’t seem to mind. They never say, “Oh, just me and you Mommy.”

(Well, okay...maybe when they want to go shopping. Each one thinks I’ll buy more if it’s just the two of us.)

Are they lacking? Am I missing signs?

We’re always so “busy.” (There’s that word again.) How do you do that if you have five kids…or seven kids?

I enjoyed my date with Mallory, but I’m not yet feeling that I owe them all an exclusive date on a regular basis. Our family bond seems to be intact.

Although, sometimes, I think of parents with one child and how they don’t miss a beat with anything their child is involved in. “One and done” has it advantages.

I love my three girls and I know you love your child/children too. Regardless of how many we have – to steal a phrase from Maya Angelou, “We’re all doing the best we know how to do.”

Do you plan “dates” with each of your children? If you have one child, do you feel that you have to have a special date, even though you have “just the two of us” time very often? Do you feel that kids need this kind of attention?

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The Price of a "Day Off"

2009-11-04T14:32:00.009-05:00

This is what happens when the chief maid and manager has a quality-time day with her daughter, gets a slight stomach issue, and goes to bed early.

She wakes up to a kitchen sink filled with dirty dishes and lots of stuff on the counters. An hour later, the disaster area has doubled by the going-to-school breakfast and lunch-prep routine. The three children leave for school, the husband leaves a little earlier than usual to drop off the car for a repair, and the mom goes out to walk the dog.

Upon returning, she opens the garage door to the kitchen - immediate SHOCK and reality.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh…!”

She has to clean up this mess.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The three children were out of school because of Election Day. The mother is successful in getting them to complete their homework, practice piano, and complete a chore or two. Afterwards, she decides to spend “quality time” with them. Surprisingly, only the youngest child is interested.

The mom let the child decide the activity – a movie. Afterwards, they go to the polling site to vote for the state’s governor, and then to the grocery store. The husband/dad is home for dinner; they all eat, and everyone leaves the kitchen in search of entertainment.

Usually, the mom/maid/manager will blockade the kitchen’s exit and command kitchen clean up duties, but she was feeling sluggish (probably from too much buttered popcorn at the theater), and left the site as well. Eventually, she went upstairs, followed by the youngest child seeking “reading time.” After a chapter, she dozed off, not caring what the natives were doing or about the state of the kitchen. Her last memory was of getting some good night kisses, including one from the dog.

Why does the weekend or a day off cause the mom/maid/manager to forgo all her management skills? (By the way, a mid-week day off makes it feel like there are two Mondays in the week.) She knows the consequences, but still, she slacks on the job. I guess she just doesn't want to be a maid and manager twenty-four hours a day.

Fortunately, the husband appreciates her and understands that doing something enjoyable while the kids are at school parlays into a mom who can become a talker/listener, driver, tutor, cook, maid, and good companion, starting at 2:45 p.m. The oblivious children appreciate her too.

It took a few years for the mom to decide how her day is spent - without feeling guilt. Right now, she’s sitting at the computer…blogging. lol

That's better

How does your routine change when you, the spouse, or the kid(s) have a day off?

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American Girl

2009-11-02T18:35:00.001-05:00

Why I like American Girl dolls:

- My girls love to play with the dolls.
- The eighteen inch dolls are well made and appealing.
- There are dolls that represent different historical periods dating from 1764 to 1974.
-The dolls represent different racial, religious, and ethnic backgrounds with hair color and texture, eye color and skin tone to match the features of their genetic heritage.
-There are contemporary dolls, too, some of which can be ordered with a choice of skin, eye, and hair color/texture – a “Just Like You” doll.
-Each doll comes with a book

Why I like American Girl books:

-There are historical fiction books for each historical character.
-The books are realistic and educational.
-The subject matter of the books is age appropriate.
-There are books for each contemporary doll character.
-There are guide books, game books, craft books, grooming books, etc. written to interest tweens.
-The books can be ordered, but are also available in book stores, public libraries, and school libraries.
-There is an American Girl magazine that contains many articles that interest young girls and tweens.

Why my girls like American Girl dolls (in their words):

-They are fun to play with.
-I like to brush and style the hair; with braids, bows, and ponytails.
-I pretend they are people. They talk, go to school, and go on vacation.
-I dress them in pajamas and then dress them again when they get up.
-We have fashion shows.

Why my girls like American Girl books (in their words):

-The books are easy to read.
-The books are good.
-It was funny and we laughed a lot when Mommy kept reading a character in Kaya’s story as Brown Bear instead of Brown Deer.
-We learned about things like the Great Depression and the Nez Perce tribe of Native Americans.

American Girl entered our home in 2002, when Aunt Cheryl gave Hayley “Meet Addy,” and it’s been a snowball effect since then. Because I have three daughters who have asked for a doll at birthday time and for Christmas, and because Grandma has indulged them as well, we have more dolls than I care to admit.

I’m guessing that most families do not have “lots” of American Girl dolls. At ninety-five dollars, it is considered a toy for “the rich” – a relative term. And, I realize that a twenty dollar doll can be just as enjoyable.

As with anything highly successful and popular, American Girl has had its share of controversy. When it was acquired by Mattel, I heard a few gripes, and now it has a homeless doll, “Gwen,” that’s getting some criticism.

The dolls have been positive for my girls; lest twenty years from now they end up on the psychiatrist’s sofa with some deep-rooted problem that stems from having too many American Girls dolls.

By 2013, we will most likely have bought our last American Girl doll; and then it’ll be something else.

Are you familiar with American Girl dolls, books and stores? What is your opinion: positive, negative, indifferent?

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Menopause and Hot Flashes

2009-10-28T21:00:00.003-04:00

My fan...less than 2 dollars at Pier One Imports

It works wonders

Hey Girls,

Hate to tell you this, but it’s inevitable; your period is not going to last forever. Mine left, came back, left, came back, left for fourteen months, and came back again! This time I think it’s gone for good.

My third and last child arrived when I was forty-two years old. Ovulation continued to occur monthly until I was forty-five. During the next year, my signs of ovulation became milder and questionable. “I’m beginning menopause,” I thought. My mother told me her last period was at age forty-six (although she had a surprise two years later, but that’s another story), so surely my last one was just around the corner.

Ha! Not so.

That thing lasted off and on for the next six years. And, I’m still not one hundred percent certain that the last egg is gone - and I’m fifty-one!

My gyno is puzzled. My numbers say “menopause” and my sono looks good, but still, less than a year ago another egg came from out of the woodwork. Hmmmm…

Let’s talk about hot flashes.

“Ohhhh…I’m so hotttt.” Sounds like I'm talking to my husband, but I’m usually taking my hands out of hot dish water to pull my hair off my neck and up into a ponytail.

Seriously and thankfully, my hot flashes are mild and seldom. To some degree, they are controllable. I can always connect a hot flash, aka power surge, to something that I’m doing.

List of possibilities:

- sleeping in too much heat

- flat ironing or curling my hair in a hurry

- blow drying my daughters’ hair when I’m not in the mood

- drinking a hot beverage when overdressed

- being overdressed (sometimes anything more than a bra and panties)

- frustration with my child/children

- driving my car wearing a coat

- the first challenge during my horseback riding or tennis lesson (Sometimes I have to take off my sun glasses and wipe away steam so that I can see. Yes, my hot head caused the steam on the sun glasses.)

- hard candy

Do you see some common threads?

If I can avoid heat, sugar, physical challenges, and frustration, I’ll never have another hot flash.

So far, menopause is not bad. I deal with the glow and the grease that pops out of my facial pores during the flash with a tissue, and the sweat that may occur while sleeping, with a fan. Mentally, I'm actually much calmer and I feel somewhat free. After the irritability of PMS and perimenopause, I could only go up. Or, was it my three stair step toddlers/preschoolers taking me over the edge? Hmmmm…

From what I’m told by various friends, symptoms range from very mild to extreme. Most handle it with a sense of humor. More than once, I've been told that speeding down the highway with your head out of the window is a good remedy for a hot flash.

Regardless of how and when menopause happens to you, keep in mind that many other women share your particular symptoms and emotions. Let’s stop comparing, competing, and whispering. After all, we’re sisters. :)

Anything you want to say about menopause? Any info or suggestions - especially for those that have had surgery or extreme symptoms? Got anything to add to my “cause of a hot flash” list? :)

Standing in Line for a Doughnut

2009-10-26T15:13:00.006-04:00

I weighed the pros and cons, then tried to resist, but the doughnut won.

It is a hectic morning. I spill milk on Hayley which means a change of clothes and that I will have to take her to school. As I’m dropping her off, she suggests that I put gas in my car and stop by McDonald’s for breakfast. Initial thought - good idea. Next thought – “Do I really want pancakes or hash browns or a sausage biscuit? There are leftovers at home, or I can have cereal with refreshing cold milk. I’ll eat at home.”

As I pull into the gas station, the first thing I see is a Krispy Kreme sign. "Oooo… Ahhhh…. I haven’t had a soft, sweet, tasty doughnut in a while."

My gas tank is almost empty, so I have to stand here for at least three minutes as the tank fills. I watch the going-to-work traffic; anything to take my mind off the doughnut.

“The leftovers and the cereal, Anita!”

My eyes keep going back to the Krispy Kreme sign.

The tank is still filling. I watch men dressed in jeans, hooded sweat jackets and work boots, getting gas and a few smoking cigarettes. I think of how different we all are; most of us doing something to contribute to the freedom and success of this country. Some of the men appear Latino and I assume they speak Spanish, which lead my thoughts to the continuous debate over Spanish being a second language in this country... Still, I can’t keep myself from going into the convenience store.

“Where are the doughnuts? I can’t find them!” I have a chance to leave, but I’m steadfast – “I’m going to find those doughnuts!” Twenty seconds later, I spot them in the center of the store. “Hmmmm…the glazed, a crème filled, or chocolate covered?” I summon my sense of taste to determine what will be the most satisfying. The crème filled is eliminated first. I love chocolate, but the simplicity of the sugary glazed wins me over.

I have my doughnut and I'm standing in line behind a man who’s buying a jug of tea for the day, his lunch, and something else. An issue at the register is going on and I’m still waiting; still watching the men to see what they are buying, watching the woman working behind the counter, wondering who will buy a lottery ticket. Finally, a man opens another register, and calls me over. “Gettin’ your sugar fix?” he says. He probably figures I need one as I stand here with “morning hair,” and sun glasses to keep from scaring anyone.

I’m three minutes from home, but I eat the doughnut before I get there. “Ohhhhh, I wish I had another.”

Was my doughnut worth the ninety one cents, six minutes of time, and two hundred calories?

Yes, it was. As I stood in line, I got to think about life and people and where I fit in, but mainly, it was a delicious treat.

Do you treat yourself or resist the temptation? Or, do you have a habit/addiction that costs you $4.00 a day, (give or take)?

Will A Scarf Help My "Mom Uniform?"

2009-10-20T10:36:00.007-04:00

Here I am on one of my better days. (The scarf is for this post and to have fun with my daughter - playing dressup.)

I decided to spare you from the boxy tee-shirt.

She rings my doorbell. I open my front door to see my friend dressed in dark tweed pants, a form-fitting black sweater, and black shoes. Light makeup and a neat hairstyle add to her naturally attractive face. There is one more thing to complete the look – the scarf!

It is simple, with colors of white, black, and gray, but it stood out. Her scarf (an item I never wear unless it’s around my neck for warmth) led me to reflect upon a time when I was often seen having that look – a look that can be professional or dressy-casual.

I compliment Erin and she thanks me, but I can almost read her mind saying, “Anita doesn’t get out much.”

Well, I do get out. On weekdays, I go to the grocery store, to Target, miscellaneous stores at strip malls, doctors’ offices, and to my kids’ schools to drop off forgotten items. There! I even make a rare appearance at the indoor mall.

And when I’m out while the kids are at school, I look similar to all the other moms. We recognize each other; we have… “the mom look.” The strollers and babies are a giveaway for some, but the rest of us still have the look – it’s just a more advanced mom look.

Our mom uniforms vary because, yes, we do have choices! In hot weather, wrinkled, just-above-the-knee or mid-thigh shorts, a tee shirt, and flip-flops are standard attire. But if we want to go all out, as I often do, we iron the shorts, put on a real shirt with a little cling, and ditch the flip flops for sandals…not too much heel though…we’re moms!

In cold weather, moms are wearing their beloved jeans, many of which are over five years old with waistbands that reach above the belly button; I think they’re called “mom jeans.” We pull from the large supply of tee-shirts and throw on a sweatshirt or hooded zip-up sweat jacket and we’re ready to go out.

If not in jeans, moms are wearing sweat pants, the stretchy yoga-like pants, or leggings. Another staple - the matching athletic pants and jacket. Years ago, I think it was a jogging suit and it was shiny. Now it might be called a warm-up suit and it doesn’t shine anymore.

For shoes, two choices – bulky shoes (people my age still call them tennis shoes) or the slide on shoes with no back (clogs, I guess).

I own all these items, but my favorite uniform is blue jeans (under the belly button), a real shirt, and the clogs. But, the warm up suit and tennis shoes get a weekly showing, too.

A quick note about the hair…headband, or eyeglasses used as a headband, baseball cap, or ponytail.

I know I haven’t covered all the mom uniforms, but what I’ve mentioned is average. On the “other side of town” where the “good” mall is, the moms are preppy, wearing labeled, designer clothes, with accenting scarves.

When I go to the grocery store during mid-day, I notice the “nicely put together” women at the store’s café standing in line for their lunches, and I remember when… But, I am now, and always have been, “a blue jeans kinda girl.”

How would you describe your “look?” Are you satisfied, or do you need a change?

The Cell Phone Decision

2009-10-16T12:24:00.002-04:00

“I have a cell phone – FINALLY!”

Those are the words (or something similar) spoken by my thirteen year old daughter, Hayley, upon receiving her new enV Touch. Being the little darling that she is (most of the time), she also gave her Daddy and me a BIG HUG and a big THANK YOU.

The wait was long. Her first request for a cell phone started when she was ten and in fifth grade; and my first response was a chuckle and a question back to her – “Do you have a job?”

As all of you know, she wanted a phone because other kids had a phone. I saw no reason for her to have one. It would merely be a toy for her, something to play games on, and of course, she would find someone to text.

Hayley’s routine consisted of school, piano lessons, school activities, the neighborhood pool, or a friend’s house. Wherever she was, there was a phone available - she could call me and I could call her. If I wasn't home, she could reach me on my cell, and I was always just ten minutes away.

My verdict – no phone necessary.

I knew we’d eventually get a phone for her; I just didn’t know when. I didn’t allow myself to be pressured by my daughter or other parents that wondered why Hayley didn’t have a phone “yet?” My criterion was “necessity.”

Hayley made the JV field hockey team. (Field Hockey Family, 09/25/09 post) There are daily practices, away games, team bonding events, and community service events. Her schedule is not as precise as it once was. She needs a phone; and now she has one.

Did you give-in to the “beg” or did you get your child a cell phone when it was needed? Be honest…I’ve given-in to the “beg” in other areas. :)

Oh…Hayley is trying to keep me from saying “telephone.”
“It’s a CELL PHONE!” she says with a slight tone.
So I slip up once in a while.

Mr. and Mrs. Etiquette

2009-10-14T14:47:00.009-04:00

A portion of mail for my husband and me is addressed to “Mr. and Mrs. Michael Jones.” I realize that it is “proper etiquette,” but I don’t like it. I took his last name when I married him - why do I have to take his first name, too? (It’s okay to laugh.)

Seriously – who out there can tell me why I’m Mrs. Michael Jones. My name is Anita.

When I was a girl, I thought I would marry and have children when I became a woman, and I did – a little late, but it happened. Until I was about twenty-three, there was no question about what my last name would be - it would change to my future husband’s last name. But during the rest of my twenties, I considered not changing my name if I got married. Then, around age thirty, I was back to being okay with having my future husband’s last name. By this time, I’m thinking of the children that I’m going to have and that I want us all to have the same name.

If you Google “Mr. and Mrs.” or “origin of Mrs.” or pull out your Emily Post’s Etiquette book, you will find several rules on how to address people based on their marital status or profession. I had forgotten that “Mrs.” came from the word “Mistress.”

Even though men don’t have a title that indicates being married, I’m okay with a title that says I am…because I am…and I’m content. And if someone addresses me or my mail as “Ms.” or “Miss,” that’s okay too – just put Anita after it; not Michael.

There are many women who proudly announce themselves as “Mrs. John Doe.” Others keep their “maiden” name after marrying (oh…I was once a maiden!) and do not take the husband’s last name. There are those that hyphenate the maiden name and the husband’s last name to form a new last name. There are those who have their maiden name as a middle name and have their husband’s last name. And there are those who keep the girly middle name (like me) or the passed down “family” middle name that they are born with, and change the last name to the husband’s last name.

Did I miss anyone?

I believe all the name choices are fine; it’s personal. I’m fine with my choice. But, I prefer that joint mail be addressed to “Anita and Michael Jones” (or “Michael and Anita Jones”); that data entry people would make the change in the computer when I make the request. (It’s always ignored.) And also, maybe the etiquette police will approve “Mr. and Mrs. Michael and Anita Jones” for the wedding invitations. Informally, “Anita and Michael Jones” will do.

Now that you know a little about my feelings on the subject, you may be making assumptions – attaching a label to me.

Well…not necessary.

My dislike of being called “Mrs. Michael Jones” is not solely based on feminism, male chauvinism, religion, liberalism, conservatism, or tradition. It simply means that I prefer being known (by adults) by the name that Lillie and Hilton gave me, which is - Anita.

Are you okay with being called Mrs. (insert your husband’s first and last name)?

Ps. Michael Jones is a pseudonym.

Swine Flu

2009-10-10T10:55:00.008-04:00

Piglet and Friends are circulating the Internet

(photographer unknown)

Decisions. Decisions.

Do I get the H1N1 (Swine Flu) vaccine or not?

Every fall, I’m faced with the decision of “flu shot or no flu shot.” In the past, it’s been easy – many years, my answer was an immediate “no.” Other years, when I was pressured by the media, a friend or relative, I procrastinated long enough for the hoopla to die down, and the issue faded away on its own. I’ve never gotten one. My husband has never gotten one. Until this year, my children had never gotten the shot, but before school started, two of my daughters got the FluMist. I was convinced by the doctor to let them have it while they were getting physicals.

I do not like pain, so when faced with it I do not hesitate to take medicine, which fortunately is very seldom. So what is it about the flu shot, something that I put in the preventative medicine category? I get allergy shots which have been extremely beneficial with my sensitivity to grass, mold and pollen – do I have to get the flu and suffer the pain before I’m sold on the flu shot?

Most people eagerly or anxiously wait for its availability. My parents practically have a party when it’s flu shot time. There is excitement in the air. “I’m going to get my flu shot today!”

I asked my husband if he’s getting it. He answered, “I’ll wait and decide after all the priority people get theirs – children, pregnant women, health care professionals, and the elderly.”

“That’s us Dear,” I responded, “We’re the elderly. We’re over fifty.”

So…we’ll probably get in line with the masses and get our shots. Check back with me to see if I did it.

For up-to-date information on the H1N1 virus, click here to link to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Are you getting the shot? What is your opinion on the virus and all the media attention it’s getting?

Wasting or Not?

2009-10-06T15:29:00.007-04:00

My family and I are in Illinois visiting our dear friends, Denise and Steve. We’re at a restaurant known for its Chicago-style pizza. Denise, a high level district retail manager, who is accustomed to fine dining and various cuisines while traveling around the country, recommends a couple of dishes and decides on her meal. The waiter comes to our table and Denise orders three things from the menu. I think it’s a salad, a main course, and something else to share with her husband. But…he orders, too. Her salad arrives and it is big enough to feed three people! All the other food is served and everything is huge! My first thought, “I’ll have delicious leftovers.”

Denise offers to share her beautiful salad and I accept, but I don’t take too much because I’m also devouring the deep dish pizza - and it is “her” salad.

It’s twenty minutes later and the waiter is back asking if he can take anything from the table; and what does Denise do? She waves the salad away! The beautiful, delicious salad, not even half eaten…gone. I can’t react fast enough to tell the waiter, “Bring that back!”

“Denise, you hardly ate any of that. I would have eaten more if I’d known that you weren’t going to eat it all.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Anita. I just ordered it because I just wanted a ‘little taste’ of it.”

.
Steve casually says, “Oh, Denise orders and eats like that all the time.”

I’m thinking, “That’s right – they don’t have three college educations to pay for.”

There’s a lot of waste in my household too. My daughter is rushing to get the bus for school and she still pours herself a second bowl of cereal and adds more milk, even though she has one minute before she has to leave. Two spoonfuls eaten and she’s gone.

Why?

Am I the only person that hates throwing away perfectly good food? My kids bring their lunch boxes home from school with sandwiches that they’ve taken two bites out of. Hot, greasy cheese sticks come back. Soggy fruit comes back.

“Oh Mommy, I wasn’t that hungry today.”

Do they think money grows on trees? (Oh, that was the sixties and seventies.)

And let's not even talk about the leftovers from the fridge.

But back to restaurants – When my husband, the girls and I eat out, I, Miss Frugal, will asks questions such as, “How many chicken tenders does that include? Will a slice of that cake serve two? What’s the size glass for the small serving of juice?”

After many episodes of seeing whole plates of french fries, half eaten sundaes, and syrup drenched pancakes taken away from our table because my girls (who eat like birds) can’t finish their meals or because we can’t take it in a doggy bag, I have learned that sharing an entrée between two kids is the thing to do. I don’t have to hear the voices of my parents saying, “There are kids starving in Africa and India.”

At a restaurant, are you paying for the dining and socializing experience, or the food, or both? Are you okay with food being thrown away as long as you’ve had a pleasant experience?

Poop Explosion!

2009-10-04T22:09:00.003-04:00

Not me! The dog! Layla!

I start the day cleaning up behind my dog, and end the day on my hands and knees cleaning up behind my daughter Mallory.

It’s a Saturday – no kids to get ready for school. The fresh, wide open outdoors is waiting for me. “Run at least three miles,” I say to myself, “it’s early and still cool, a perfect time to run.”

But…as I step out of my bedroom, a familiar smell hits me. I want to deny it because I am just two minutes from my run. My girls are also upstairs and on the computer. When I ask if they can smell anything, the reply from all three is, “I don’t smell anything.” Then one of them says, “My nose has been stopped up for days.”

“Yeah…right!”

No one had dared to go downstairs because that would have meant having the responsibility of beginning the cleanup.

So, I start the march downstairs, beckoning the troops to follow. (Husband/Daddy feigns deep sleep and unawareness.) Even though Layla was in her crate when it happened, it's still a messy job. I’ll try not to be too graphic, but…her bed is thrown into the washer, the crate is taken outside and hosed down, part of the kitchen floor is cleaned, and Layla gets a bath.

I am determined to go for my run. It's almost an hour later and I've missed a guaranteed cool run, but I head out for my three miles. The temperature feels like it has risen ten degrees, but I still appreciate the workout/escape.

Now that I play tennis and ride horses (both are lessons), I have to run to maintain stamina to keep up with all the younger girls that I hang out with.

I digress.

Anyway, the day is mostly spent cleaning. Just as I am whining down to switch gears to dinner and leisure, Mallory throws up…on the family room rug. I gather the troops again to assign duties. Fast! Get the paper towels, a wet rag, a plastic bag, the Nature's Miracle!

As we’re cleaning, Mallory is now relieved and perky and chattering, but “I” know that it is too early to be a definite wrap. As she rests on the sofa, we put a couple of towels on the rug and the waste basket near by.

I eat my dinner, then take Layla out into the night air for her potty break. In the mean time, Mallory goes upstairs to go to bed. When I return, I’m thrust into a repeat episode – this time it’s the bedroom carpet. (Having to do this twice, my husband has lost his appetite.)

The little darling is showered, put into pajamas, and wrapped cozily in a sea of blankets on a sofa…in my(our) bedroom! Her daddy insures that a third rug and room will not get slimed by putting plastic under her and all over the floor surrounding the sofa, where she sleeps soundly through the most of the night (with the help of a little Tylenol). Whew!

What is the difference between a dog and a child? Okay…just kidding!

Why I Blog

2009-10-02T13:47:00.003-04:00

Before I tell you why I blog, I’ll say, “Thank you Jessica, Coffee Lovin’ Mom, for presenting me the Lemonade Award!" After a Google or two, I learned that it is “a feel good award which shows great attitude or gratitude.”

Jessica is writing her first novel and is journaling some of the process along with other random thoughts. She has a great sense of humor! Stop by her site, My Thoughts Exactly, at: http://www.coffeelvnmom.blogspot.com/.

*****************************

Blogging allows me to write and publish whatever I feel or research. There are no grades, no timelines, no editors, and no specific genres. It is one of my outlets. It costs no money; only time and effort. It is a vehicle for practicing the art of writing. I teach myself, using “how to write” books and by reading books. There is no degree in English hanging on my wall, no outstanding vocabulary, and no perfect grammar – only desire.

An added bonus to blogging – other bloggers! We’re all of a similar breed. We relate to and support each other. I have discovered a new way of communicating and have “met” and “talked” to many interesting people.

I’m new at it, but each day I learn something else. The awards that are plastered all over blog sites that I used to wonder about, are beginning to have a new meaning. It is a way of complimenting and publicizing the blogs of non-celebrity, average people like me.

I’m supposed to pass this award on to others, so here goes:
- Atlanta’s Whitehouse – a caring public school health teacher
- Zook Book Nook – a mom/writer with a passion for books and passing it on to her children

- Old? Who? Me? - laugh and get wisdom from this 83 year old blogger
- RANdom Walkway – “outside of the box” news and creativity from around the world

- New Mum Over 40 – Australian lady journaling her path to conceiving a baby

- Central Virginia Organic Gardener – she has the ultimate green thumb!
- Chocolate Covered Daydreams – dream along with this caring and creative artist

- Musings of a Midlife Mom - free of debt, living simply, having fun, and trying to stay that way

- Encouragement for the Journey – writer mom who has the most creative metaphors for life

To Everyone reading this:

If you're a blogger, why do you blog?

Blogger or not - why do you read blogs? :)

Caught Stereotyping

2009-09-29T17:36:00.012-04:00

This is our version of the stick people seen

on the rear windshields of cars.

I’m at the mall with my daughters, Kelly and Mallory. We’re in Justice, a store that is very popular with girls that are my daughter’s ages – eleven and nine.

After some ooos and ahhhs, they choose a few items to try on. It’s a weekday, which means there is homework waiting and dinner to be figured out and eaten, but I’m feeling pretty good, so I’m giving them about twenty minutes in the store, instead of my usual ten. (See my post titled, “Was I Born Without the Shopping Gene?” May 29, 2009)

Kelly gets earrings and a shirt, and Mallory gets a knitted shirt that will be good for cooler weather. We go to the register desk with the clothes and our forty percent off coupon, where we get in line behind a woman with several children. (My definition for several children is at least four, because it’s one more than what I have.)

The oldest child could be the boy who appears to be about eleven; or maybe it’s the tallest girl. And then there are all these other little people. Two are standing beside the stroller, one is in the stroller, and the mom is carrying one that looks about eight months old. The picture is completed with mounds of merchandise bags on top of the stroller near the handle.

I look around the store and do not see another adult, so I figure they are all hers. She is young - thirtyish, maybe older - average height, and thin. My eyes take a quick peek at her mid-section - flat. So now I’m impressed and decide that she must be breastfeeding and that the others must have been breastfed too, because that’s supposed to help the uterus return to pre-pregnancy size and to also burn extra calories.

My initial assessment is done. It’s time to open my mouth to start a conversation.

“I was just telling my kids…”

The mom finishes my sentence and says, “…that I need a lot of hands.”

I continued with a friendly smile, “Well I guess you do, but I was thinking of how you all remind me of the Smith family. I almost thought you were them. They have one boy too, but they have six girls. My kids had piano lessons at the same studio as them.”

The boy proudly says, “Oh, they have one more than we do. We only have six kids.”

I stop talking so that she can finish her purchase, while thinking, “That’s a lot of kids to be shopping in Justice; not that it’s a very expensive store, but you can get better deals at the larger discount stores. (Stereotype # 1 – Can she afford brand name clothes?)

“She’s probably a stay-at-home mom.” (Stereotype # 2 – With six young kids, how can she be employed?)

“I’ll bet they’re home-schooled.” (Stereotype # 3 – Young woman, six well mannered kids – gotta be home-schooled kids!)

“I wonder if she makes and bakes bread.” (Stereotype # 4 – I know five or six home-schooling moms that make bread.)

She’s now ready to leave, but I quickly get in a question, “Do you home school?”

With a slight smile, she answers, “No, but everybody asks me that.”

I smile and she walks away so that I can buy my things; or, is it because she wants to hurry and get away from me before the barrage of questions come.

“Maybe I should not have asked her that. Hmmmm.”

The whole incident was harmless, but it made me realize that I was stereotyping. I frequently talk to people when I’m waiting in a line, but next time I’ll….....no, I’ll probably be a little too nosey again!

What do you think when you see a mom with “several” kids? Be honest. :)

Ps. I think there are many women and men that are born to have large families, and in that case, why not!

Rain

2009-09-27T20:04:00.007-04:00

The sound of rain splattering on my roof and driveway, and hitting against my window, was a pleasant addition to my sleep during the night and early hours of morning. It was like rhythmic music – a soundtrack to my dreams.

When I woke up, I looked out my bedroom window and felt gratitude. Attracted to the beauty of the rain, I found myself outside trying to get a picture that would capture its essence.

Usually I prefer the rain to happen in late evening or at night, but today when I saw it, I thought of grass, trees, flowers, food – everything that grows; how the rain is replenishing it all.

I thought of the four seasons in Virginia, how the temperature ranges from twenty degrees to one hundred degrees; how, just as boredom with a season creeps in, it changes. (Still LOOOVE the sun, though!)

I thought of how people retreat (if they can) when it rains, and that song, “Rainy Days and Mondays” [always get me down]. Sometimes I give into that too, but not today. Just got my umbrella, raincoat, and camera, walked barefooted down the driveway to the curb, breathed in the crisp morning air, snapped a few pictures, picked up the newspaper, and came back in.

It was refreshing, and it started my day off on a good note.

How does rain make you feel?

Field Hockey Family

2009-09-25T14:24:00.010-04:00

I'm a field hockey mom! Hayley, my thirteen year old eighth grader, made the high school JV team.

Seemingly out of the blue, she developed an interest in the sport at the end of seventh grade. Paperwork in hand, she announced “her” plans for “our” summer - a week of field hockey camp in July and tryouts in August. And then, making the team lead right into Monday thru Friday practices for the rest of August.

After a few bumps in the road, we made adjustments to accommodate her new schedule. Now, we proudly watch her play this sport that I played a week or two in sixth grade, inside my elementary school’s gymnasium, in the cold state of Michigan – which means I know little about field hockey. But after attending four games and listening to veteran moms and dads cheer and coach from the sidelines, my husband and I are beginning to learn some of the dos and don’ts.

I’m seeing another dimension of my daughter. She’s a real team player and team bonding sorta girl. Her personality is broadening. I like seeing her commitment, which for me translates into being an adult who is a responsible employee or entrepreneur, i.e. working successfully and happily, and “living on her own!”

How have sports been a benefit to your child/children and family?

Vaginal vs. C-section

2009-09-18T17:40:00.008-04:00

“I’m glad I could experience a vaginal birth,” said Mary, after I told her my three girls were born by Caesarean section.

Mary and I were with three other women. Another conversation was going on, causing her comment to be unnoticed; plus another distraction prevented me from responding. We were heading to our different cars, so that was the end of that.

Or was it?

As I drove off, I reflected on what she said, taking me back to the days when my kids were infants and toddlers. The means by which our kids were born was major! The other moms and I discussed epidurals, home births, natural births, pushing, labor time, etc. The Academy Award of childbirth always went to the mom that had a home birth, all natural of course, with no tearing, and delivery within a few hours of the first labor pains. The runner-ups were those that had the same experience, but in a hospital. “Wow, Whada Woman!” the audience would rave.

The sympathy award, complete with “aawwww…” went to the mom who had a C-section. No questions were asked. It was assumed that it was a horrible experience. I always felt the need to tell everyone that I did not need drugs afterwards and that I was up walking within six hours or so after the birth. That was the way I competed.

It’s so nice to be beyond that!

I still like hearing childbirth stories, but now my focus is so much on being happy that I don’t have to have another baby! I don’t need a “vaginal experience” and I don’t “need a boy.” Too late anyway. ha ha

To mothers of young children who still find yourselves having the birth conversation often, that’s part of motherhood. My seventy-six year old mother still remembers and talks about what she went through to have my brother and me.

Whether your baby just popped out effortlessly, or caused you to not want to sit for days, or came via an incision in your uterus and belly, or was handed to you with adoption papers…trust me, you get over it if he or she didn't come to you the way you planned. You’re blessed to have her, him, or them.

I appreciate all birth/adoption stories: good, difficult, or in between. Tell me about yours.

Tennis

2009-09-16T22:56:00.008-04:00

Another mid-life adventure I’m having is learning how to play tennis. My first “real” lesson was a year ago and I love it!

My friend Robin asked me if I’d be interested in taking the lessons while the kids were in school during the 2008-2009 school year. Without hesitation, I hopped on board. She’s the friend that also assembled a group of moms for the horseback riding lessons. When our friends and relatives express surprise at our new interests, we laugh and say that we’re having our mid-life crisis together. “Next…golf!”

Monday was my first lesson of this 8-week session. I headed out appearing legitimate, donned in my new tennis skirt. Seven more girls (some stay-at-home moms; others employed part time or flex-time) met to practice and play together. Under the guidance of our teacher, we tried to get our skills back to where we left off in the spring. I had wanted to play during the summer so that I would have come back noticeably better, but opportunities were few. I hope to make up for it this fall by playing in between lessons and by using the Tennis Tutor that is owned by the neighborhood association.

What I’m learning from doing these sports is that the body is capable of doing more than we think it can do. I think I’ve mentioned this before, but if you didn’t catch it, I’m fifty-one. “Aghhhhh!!!”

To those of you who have gotten a little sedentary, you don’t need to jump on a horse; just try a walk to the corner and back. Or, pull out your bike and ride to the corner and back. Play ping pong. Fly a kite. My seventy-six year old mother has a Wii.

To those of you who thrive on physical activity – great! I’m working on being like you. Recently, I spoke to a neighbor as he walked his dog, and he told me he is eighty-eight years old. Let’s all stay in the game as he obviously has.

Any tennis players out there?