Volunteering

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.

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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?

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

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?

After you read the post, be sure to read the opinions of my other visitors in the comments section at the end.

“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 mostly 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?

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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. Someone has suggested that the e be dropped, stating that two spellings is sexist. Hmmm...

Breasts

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?

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

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?