The Bigger Battle

Parenting is not for the weak willed or faint of heart.

Can I get an AMEN!

I was reminded of that in a very profound way yesterday. Adam asked if we could stop by GAMESTOP to purchase a game before we picked up his friend to spend the night. His buddy was going to purchase the game soon, too, so they thought it the perfect opportunity to check it out together.

It was about two years ago that we started allowing Adam to purchase the "M" rated games, which is probably the equivalent of an R-rated movie.  Part of that process was working with GAMESTOP to know which games were appropriate and which ones were not. Surprised that they would turn away sales?

They are the first ones to tell you their biggest clients are not the teen boys who buy the games, but rather, soccer moms needing help navigating the process. Like me.

We have allowed Halo, Call of Duty, Assassin's Creed and Battlefield. For the most part, it is zombie killings, which graphics and language having 'edit out' abilities. Yes, they are still violent. But in the world of mature games, they have no nudity, sex, drugs, etc.

GAMESTOP employees made a list of games that at 12-13-14-15 year old Adam should NOT play, such as Red Dead Redemption, Grand Theft Auto and, most recently, Watch Dogs. Watch Dogs became the problem.

A few weeks ago, he had asked to purchase Red Dead Redemption and I told him if after talking to the sales people, they said it was OK after all, I might consider it--knowing it was on my 'banned' list. Sure enough, they stood firm and cautioned me against the purchase. Adam was not happy, but he knew going it the odds were slim to none.

Enter Watch Dogs. Not knowing anything about it, I approached the sales people about the game. Before I asked, they cautioned me against it.  An implied rape scene, Russian Roulette while doing drugs, topless women--and according to an on-line review-- an insinuated sex act scene. Not playing the game myself, I did not realize that depending on choices you make and scenes you approach, not every player will play the same scenes and there was a chance Adam would not happen upon some or even most of it. But, who knows until you are there, right?

Hearing enough negative information about it, I had to make an immediate decision about the game. While Adam looked at me with pleading eyes and almost inaudible "pleaaaassseee.....pleeaaaaaassee let me get the game", Elise grabbed me by the hands and said, "No, mom. NO WAY! Don't give in."

You will be pleased to know that I did in fact say no, explaining that if I allowed it, I was compromising our principles....and doing it only to make him happy. And if I had given in, and allowed he and his friend to play it that night, then I would be making the decision for that family that Watch Dogs was OK for their son. Not cool.

I believe my words included, "I know you are disappointed and will be angry, but this is one of those parenting decisions you don't have to like or agree with. But no."  I even offered to help pay for a different game to purchase.

We left the store empty-handed.

Adam was dejected and quiet but he never argued. In his heart of hearts, he knew it was not an appropriate game and there was no reason to fight my decision. After reviewing the on line site for parent reviews, it only became more apparent to me that I was correct in saying no. Adam even agreed with me after-the-fact.

It didn't make it any easier though. Fortunately, there is another game coming out in September the sales people suggested to Adam that he buy. He is already looking forward to it.

Sometimes making the right decision is hard. But I thought of longer-term consequences. Adam could argue FOR Grand Theft Auto because I allowed Watch Dogs.  It is a slippery slope to compromise our principles, friends.  By age 17, Adam will be able to buy any of those games and, most likely, I can't really prevent it. Even if I said no here,  he could play it elsewhere and I'd be none-the-wiser. I suppose that is still true if any of his friends purchase Watch Dogs. This is probably not the end of the battle in that respect.

The parenting wars rage on.....

Confessions of New Fattie

To answer the quiet murmurings, raised eyebrows, and out and out comments, YES, I have recently gained weight. 20 pounds to be exact. I am no longer the size 0 I was from 2007 to 2010. I am now a tried and true -- gasp-- size 6-8.  There it is....true confessions of a woman who spoke out loud the taboo subject of "How much does XX weight?"

In recent weeks, much ado has been made about my weight gain, from well-intentioned loved ones who thought it their business to comment. I guess they didn't think I was aware of it, or I don't care. The truth is that I DO recognize it, I DO care, and I DO intend to do something about.

So here's the skinny.... (or the fat in my case, huh?)

About 8 years ago, following the birth of my second child at just under 38 years old, I realized springing back to my petite frame was not as easy as it used to be. To help cope with turning the dreaded 40 and handle the stress of losing my terminally ill mom, I joined at gym in 2007. It was life changing. While I was always petite, skinny even, I wasn't necessarily 'in shape'. I think that people equate thin with good health. The truth was that my cholesterol was probably a little high, I did not get much intentional exercise, and my energy was rather low. Joining a gym changed my life. While improving my cardio and overall health, I also developed a strong core, flat abs, strong upper body and more self-confidence in my appearance than I had ever had before.  The bonus is that in the process I lost the last of the baby weight (with my daughter almost 3) and slimmed down to a cool zero.  My proudest moment was while at Gold's Gym, a 20 something came up to my while I was working with free weights and asked if I was getting ready for competition. More like getting ready to run car pool, but thanks, guy!!

During this same time, I sought help for my severe chronic insomnia issues. With most insomnia medications actually suppressing appetite, I suppose it aided it my overall weight loss. Of course, just like contestants on the Biggest Loser maintaining this size and motivation for the gym was a challenge. Ever involved in my kids' schools, my church, and life in general, carving out that dedicated time for strength and cardio training became a little less of a priority. And my weight went up by an acceptably health 5-10 pounds and I stabilized as a size 4 about 3 years ago. Until about 7 months ago. Enter the weight gain.

Now I can tell you exactly what went wrong. First, my sleep medications changed time and time again until--did you guess it--seven months ago. My sweet doctor and I found a medicine combination that has been working for me, without the common side effects I've had in the past, and does not have a dependency....Nor does it taper off in effectiveness. Friends, after a lifetime of chronic fatigue, I finally have a winner.  The only downside is that it is happens to drastically increase your appetite. Even knowing this, I felt the up side to this was more important than a little weight gain from trying to stay satiated.

To complicate matters, Adam's health took a drastic negative turn in August 2011 and by April 2012, we were seeing specialist after specialist getting his diagnosis. For the entire last year, I have been working tirelessly to get Adam the best medical specialists around. He and I were on and out of a specialized children's hospital twice a week for months and I was taking care of him when he had strep throat for 4 solid months this past fall. Add that to my own strep throat infection that lasted 4 rounds of antibiotics from Thanksgiving to mid January, and it spells weight gain disaster. To the tune of 20 pounds as you might recall.

As a life time skinny, this has been a challenging time for me. I hate the extra weight.  I have outgrown almost all my dress slacks and jeans, and I don't feel good about myself at all. After listening to well intentioned loved ones share their concern about this weight gain, I understand why there is such an epidemic of eating disorders. God forbid, I gain just a little weight. I am hardly fat and I am still on the receiving end of rude comments. Even though I am still well under the average size 12-14, this is the heaviest I have ever been and it's been hard. Until recently, though, it was about survival. Now that life has gone back to its 'normal'  state of busy, I am getting back to the gym. Without any other major changes, I have already lost 2 pounds. At least my scale is heading in the right direction.

My goal is to lose the entire 20 pounds by early June.  I have roughly 10 weeks to lose roughly 20 pounds. At 2 pounds per week, I think my goal is reasonable. But work outs are not going to be enough to combat my extra calories. So, friends, my desire is to start replacing one meal a day with juicing. Having watched two amazing documentaries on Netflix -- Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead  and Hungry for Change-- I really think eating cleaner and truly getting all the fruits and vegetables our bodies need can give me the extra nutrition I need.  The health benefits of juicing are amazing and totally worth my time, effort and cost.  I hope that the kids will juice with me this summer, not replacing meals for them, but supplementing. I think my kids, especially Adam, will benefit from the added veggies, in particular.

Gone, too, are the days where I can eat whatever or whenever I want. I am closer to 50 years old than 40 so my metabolism may be catching up with me. Snacking after dinner is probably my biggest downfall.  Sometimes I feel that maybe I did not consume enough day time calories and I am making up for lost ones at night.  Last night I did not eat anything after dinner. I thought about food all evening long but I made it without anything more than water.  Just in one day, I noticed I was much less bloated in the morning. If I continue to feel better in the morning from no more snacking at night, that will be all the motivate I need to continue it.

Not only will I feel better and look better, maybe the nasty, snarky comments will stop.  Then people can find something better to do with their time.


                        

Every Year Begins With a Fairy Tale

Once every four or five years I stay awake until midnight to greet the new year. I'm hip that way. Last night was that rare time when I was awake to say goodbye to '12 and hello to '13. There was nothing magical in that moment--which is why I suppose I am not motivated to stay up until midnight in the first place. Maybe I value my sleep more than my political correctness to ring in our new year.

Overall, 2012 was not a great year. Ironically, 2011 was actually just as bad for many of the same reasons. Do I have hopes that 2013 will turn things around? Certainly. The optimist in me hopes that the struggles our family has had will find a place of calm in the next 365 days that lie ahead of us. The pessimist in me, however, knows that many of the unresolved angst in 2012 will, in fact, follow us into this new year like a bad habit. There is nothing magical about the turn in our calendar that will pardon us from our difficulties.

Every year I ponder the question, "What will I do to make 2013 a better year than 2012?" It's not really about making resolutions in the traditional sense. You are setting yourself up for failure (thus we begin our year with a Fairy Tale, thinking that we will suddenly live "happily ever after"). It's about making baby steps to being a better you.

For my husband, I want to love him better. Be more gentle, more kind, more respectful and more encouraging. Physically, we go through the motions in our marriage, taking care of each others needs in the traditional sense. I am the homemaker, providing him with the sanctuary he wants to come home to each night. I could be a stronger support system for him in the emotional and spiritual sense. In turn, I would like to be appreciated more--criticized less. Fifteen years of marriage does not make us experts. I find that having a great marriage is very difficult amidst the chaos of adult children struggling to find their way and having two children to raise up along the way.

When it comes to parenting, I do more things right than wrong. I am usually very patient and engaged with my kids.  2012 taught me about sacrifice more than ever before. I spent about 10 months of 2012 going from countless doctor and hospital visits with Adam, hoping to find a diagnosis and treatment plan for his blood disorder. While I hope the most difficult months are behind me, we are still finding Adam's new normal. This is a process for both of us and I learned what it truly means to sacrifice for my child and place his needs before mine.  I have spent hours on my knees, pleading with God to get us through the difficult days and weeks. As a mom, 2012 was the hardest year of my life.

Perspective was my buzz word for the end of 2012 that I will carry into 2013. Adam is cared for by a pediatric hematologist, which is a fancy name for a blood cancer doctor. (like leukemia)  Twice weekly for months,  we have been in waiting room and exam rooms at the hospital. Kids with cancer are all around us. As for now. Adam's condition is NOT life threatening. Our cryogenic results  and yearly bone marrow biopsies will give us a better idea if his condition could become cancerous, but it is most likely not that serious.  There are infants, toddlers, school aged kids and teenagers fighting for their life. Adam's illness has been difficult but does not compare to the dozens of kids we have met who hope that 2013 is not the last new year they will ever see. As difficult as it has been, it could be worse. Much worse. Perspective.

 My precious Elise. With the struggles all three of our boys have had this last year, she would tell you she has been a little neglected.  She has such a loving, sweet spirit that I hope I continue to nurture that innocence and child-like quality in her. I realize that in 2013, we will have two adult sons, and one teenage son. She will be my only little one. I want to savor and enjoy that child in her before she decides she needs to be 'all grown up'.  I made strides to really celebrate her in the latter half of the year, and I hope to continue to do that.

The biggest change I hope to make in 2013 sounds selfish, actually. Given the challenges I have at home with Adam, I am learning to say NO. 2012 was filled with a lot of giving of my time, talents, money and resources. And all of them were good things. But I over-committed myself to the point where thoughts of fulfilling those commitments made me sick to my stomach. In the last month I have thoughtfully pulled away from some of these commitments, even though it is a difficult thing for me to do.

In recent months, I have had difficulty staying healthy. 2012 will go down in our family history as being one of my sickest ever, which drives this point home even more. Part of that was exacerbated by lack of exercise on my part. I am the heaviest weight I have ever been and in the worst shape of my adult life. It's not about being skinny. It's about having a strong mind and body to take care of my family. If mama's sick, life is very difficult. And mama has been sick way too much. I had the mind set that if I did not get to the gym first thing in the morning, exercise was not happening. For 2013, I will change my mindset. If my morning is busy, I can still get to the gym in the afternoon. There is no rule that it has to be morning. It's just important that I go so I can be strong enough to take care of Adam. 

Honestly, I am going to give myself permission to be very selfish in 2013.  My friends who I have confided in this last year know how much of a struggle this last year was for me, and I look forward to having more time just to be with them and to nurture those relationships on a more intimate level. Life is too short and too busy to be stressed all the time. I want to scrapbook more, write more, and be productive a little less.

So to my friends, followers, and the occasional reader who stumbles upon this post, I wish you all a happy, healthy and blessed 2013. I wish for you what I hope for my family.

Friendships: Standing the Test of Time?

Even as a young child, I was a bit of a loner. My mom would realize that she hadn't seen me for hours, but I was playing contentedly alone in my room. Barbies, dolls, even fashioning a board game where I could play solo could entertain me for hours. Having twin sisters two years older, I was often the odd-man-out and playing by myself was the norm for me.

Certainly I have had several friends over the years, but I am constantly struck by the ebb and flow of friendships. When I hear of friendships spanning 40 and 50 years (or longer), it makes me a little sad. While I still have a group of really strong friendships spanning 25 years since college graduation--Rachel, Karen, Robin, Donata and Laura--I miss the friendships that I thought would last for a lifetime, but did not survive.

There is a saying that friendships are either for a reason, a season or a lifetime. Unfortunately, the older I get, the more my friendships seem to fall into a 'season or reason'. Sometimes it has been a due to life circumstances: Marriages, divorces, child rearing, careers. I have found that some of my friends only needed me for a season (often when they were without a spouse) and once they were married, maintaining my friendship was no longer a priority. As a seasoned married person, I understand the new-ness of relationships and the new-ness of marriage is an exciting time. I gladly give my friends space and time to really bond with their new life partner. But when they no longer return my phone calls or accept social invitations, then it's hard to accept that most likely it's the end of that relationship. Some people might refer to them as 'fair weathered friends'.  I try not take it personally, although sometimes I can wallow in the loss. I'm just being real.

But I've also seen them wither when our lives have taken a dramatic turn away from what used to be commonalities--such as going away to college, getting married and having children. Even me becoming a stay-at-home mom has separated me from my career-focused friends--ever causing a rift in the common threads that kept us bonded earlier in our lives.  Even religious differences have made keeping lifetime friends more of a challenge because my Christianity is a large part of who I am, and I naturally gravitate to those who are like-minded. Not that it is impossible to stay friends when your lives have definitely taken different paths; but I do think it takes far more effort to find that common ground.

The most difficult loss in friendship for me occurred in the last 5 years. It was a slow disintegration that is all but gone now. And we had been the best of friends for over 20 years. Why this happened is not an easy question to answer. Honestly, there were hurtful words exchanged, unforgiveness and the inability to find that aforementioned common ground. Over the years, my life lead me in the direction of wife, mother, volunteer, and published writer and her life went a completely different road. I am still in the process of trying to find peace about all the circumstances that lead us to this place. Unfortunately, I will never find those answers. But I miss her.

My cousin Jenny shared with me that her best friend and (dis)maid of honor called her up one month after the wedding and said that they could no longer be friends. When Jenny inquired why, she was told that it was because Jenny had everything that she had ever wanted and she was jealous. Right or wrong, justified or not, at least there was closure.

Sometimes just finding a place of forgiveness of the friends we feel hurt us, betrayed us, or let us down is the only way to heal. We don't always get the answers we are seeking--and we find ourselves disappointed that another friendship 'bit the dust'. Realizing that we were part of that disintegration is part of the process when we need to extend that forgiveness to ourselves. Losing a friend is rarely all on the other person. We need to take our own personal responsibility in it where appropriate.

For me, I have redefined the word 'friend' and instead of always looking for the elusive answers as to why so many of my friendships have come and gone, I cherish the women (and a few men who are also friends with my husband) who ARE still in my life. Admittedly, I am more guarded and do not seek out my female friends as much in my life now than in my youth: Part natural course of life and partly by choice

My main focus is my husband, my children, my church home, my volunteer work--and of course, my writing-- first and foremost. My friends are the bonus part of my life. The icing on the cake, if you will.  I hope they will endure the test of time because I treasure each one. And I hope they also treasure me.

Bone Marrow Buddy Brothers

As first appeared for Patch.com in my community

In late April my husband Tony received a call from our friend Kathy in Ohio. Bill, her husband, was about to celebrate a milestone birthday, his 50th, and had hoped Tony could send a special greeting from St. Louis. Instead, my husband surprised Bill by making the trip out to see him over his birthday weekend. The fact was this was not just any milestone birthday; this was one that almost wasn't meant to be.

Eight years earlier Bill had Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (ALL) and his last hope for survival was a bone marrow donation. His three brothers were the best hope for a match. Despite a 25 percent chance, none of them qualified. Bill was out of options and at the mercy of finding a donor through the National Marrow Registry.  Because he had registered through his employer about seven years earlier, my husband Tony became that hope.

And after long, step-by-step process, Tony was found to be a match 'closer than a brother', more perfect than the hospital and National Registry had ever dreamed possible. Bill not only went into remission, but he is healthy and living a life he feared would come to an end only years earlier.
Doctors look for a donor who matches their patient's tissue type, specifically their human leukocyte antigen (HLA) tissue type. Your immune system uses these markers to decipher between good and bad cells. The closer the match between the patient's HLA markers and yours, the better for the patient. The intent is to replace the 'bad' marrow with 'good' marrow.

Have you ever considered registering to become a donor? Since there are few area registration drives, the simplest way would be to go to this link. It registers you with the National Marrow organization.
According to the National Registry, approximately one in every 540 members will be a match and have the opportunity to donate  You may never be identified as a match for someone needing a transplant or you may find that your HLA tissue type is more common and you are potentially a more universal match.  By registering, you are NOT committing yourself to donating if you are a match. You always have the option to 'opt-out' if you were asked.

There are actually two types of donation methods. The first is a surgical procedure done under general or regional anesthesia that withdrawals liquid marrow using needle punctures from the back of the pelvic bone. Since my husband was donating for a man in similar stature to his own, he donated the maximum amount, which amounted to about 50 punctures in all. If donating for a child or a smaller stature woman or male, less marrow is needed and the procedure is less involved.

Peripheral blood stem cell donation is a non-surgical procedure done in an outpatient clinic. Through a process called apheresis, a donor's blood is removed through a needle in one arm and passed through a machine that separates out the blood-forming cells. The remaining blood is returned to the donor through the other arm. In addition to donating marrow, my husband has donated apheresis numerous times through the American Red Cross. Instead of donating whole blood, they considered him a perfect candidate for this procedure, which can take several hours.  There was no particular recipient in mind with each of these donations, but it is held at a blood bank until needed. It is my understanding that not everyone would be a good candidate to donate the peripheral stem cells.

Tony would be the first to say that donating the bone marrow for this complete stranger changed his life forever. After Bill's amazing recovery and mutual agreement to learn of each others identities after the mandatory one year waiting period passed, they became best friends. Actually, they are more than that. With Tony's marrow coursing through Bill's blood, they share the same DNA. They are closer than friends: They are brothers. Blood brothers.

A Friend for All Time

There were lots of tears this morning as I was preparing my sweet daughter to start her school week.

My 1st grader Elise is troubled by a friend using a nickname in the classroom that is embarrassing her--and her friend won't stop despite Elise's kind plea. Another friend called her 'stupid' and make a few other rude remarks. She did not want to go to school today because of them.

My heart aches for her hurting heart. But I cannot solve these issues for her. The reality is that throughout her entire life, navigating the waters of friendships is an on-going process. Having 'mean' kids verbally assault her is unfortunately part of growing up.

Every Wednesday afternoon for Adam, and every Thursday morning for Elise, I meet with a small group of praying moms and we claim scripture over them using the format of Moms in Prayer International (formerly Moms In Touch). We take an attribute of God and read scriptures about God's love, his patience, his faithfulness, his protection; Him being our helper, a miracle worker, our confidence, our rock, our foundation, our hope, our peace. The list goes on and on. Whether encouraging or correcting, I tell my children over and over who they are in Christ.

As Elise came to me with tears in her eyes about being called stupid, I reminded her of what God says about her: She is fearfully and wonderfully made. She is made in the image of God, She is God's delight. I tell her she is smart, kind, funny, and a good friend. No longer crying, but still looking dejected, I sent her off to school, encouraging her to let her teacher or counselor help her mend those relationships.

Her counselor called me just a few moments ago to tell me how articulate Elise was in explaining her problem. She was able to lovingly explain to these young friends on how her feelings were hurt. And the most amazing, incredible, sweet and God-breathed thing happened.

She recited back to the counselor that she did not deserve those words. That 'my mom said I am sweet, kind, loving and smart because that is what God thinks of me, too.' Yes, she is living in this world, but she is not of this world. And she knows it. And I am proud of her declaring the truth; sharing the gospel, and yes, listening to me. Maybe I am impacting her life more than I thought.

Thank you, God, for the encouragement that I needed today. When so many things can go wrong--so many things left unsaid--and the busyness of life to make us forget to take the time to build up our children (not just correct them), you revealed yourself in a mighty way.

Amen and Amen.

Teaching Our Girls to be Women

Last night, while my daughter was enjoying a play date, I decided to hang out with her mom, Anne, who I like a lot. Anne and I are trying to make an earnest connection between our daughters, who are both in first grade and have known each other since they were 3 years old. We want to hang out more and our daughters are a perfect excuse.

Anne and I are living parallel lives in many respects. Our husbands work for the same company, we are approximately the same age, we've both been married about the same amount of time and we both have sons in 6th grade and daughters in 1st grade. But that is probably where the similarities end. In many respects we are very different. She is liberal, while I am more conservative; she struggles with organization and structure, while I thrive on it. Anne is also more 'girly' than I am in respect to how we dress and do our hair and makeup. I definitely would say that she is more glamorous, and I tend to go with the more natural look.

For the last year, Anne has asked me occasionally if she can give me a makeover She saw potential in me and thought I could accentuate my features more. I have repeatedly turned her down for one reason or another--nothing personal. Just for whatever reason, I haven't been cooperative. Until last night. For about an hour she played with makeup and did my hair, even finding a cute dress that fits my petite frame in her laundry room.

That is a picture of me:  BEFORE. Albeit the picture is a little washed out, I still say it represents me pretty well. For being smack dab in the middle of my 40s, I think I am aging well. I am certainly no raving beauty, but I definitely find that I am aging better in my 40s than I did in my 20s. Here is how I looked AFTER Anne took hold of me.

The picture turned out a little dark, but I definitely think she did a nice job really changing my look. I hardly recognize myself. I actually really do like my hair, which I was not expecting too. The makeup was a little heavy for an everyday look for me, but I want to learn some of the tricks Anne used last night and buy some new makeup to my collection to help achieve this look for a fancy night out. I could potentially learn from Anne what I did not learn from my mom or any other role model.

It was while we were in the midst of the makeover that she and I were talking about being wives and mothers and we both agreed that for the most part, we don't feel like we learned a lot from our mothers on some basic 'womanly' stuff. She and I both agreed that we both have areas of strength and weakness but wonder if we learned it 'nature' versus 'nurture' or taught ourselves. Together, Anne and I would make a pretty complete woman, we joked.

My mom was very neat and tidy while I was growing up, so I think she modeled for me how I wanted to keep house.  As an elementary aged child, I was somewhat of a slob, but then I could spent hours cleaning my room from top to bottom without being asked. As a teenager, I was known to surprise my mom by cleaning the house for 4-5 hours while she was on a date with my dad. As a pre-driving teen, I would spend some Saturdays cleaning house with her, blasting our favorite Neil Diamond albums from the stereo. Gradually, I became interested in 'keeping house'--and really got the itch to keep my surroundings neat and organized when I lived away at college, sharing a small dorm room. Keeping it neat was the only way to survive such a small space.

However, with the exception of the occasional baking, I did not learn to cook from my mom. She modeled being a good cook for our family, preparing dinner almost every night. I cannot recall a time when I really helped her, except for grating cheese or cracking some eggs. My mad cooking skills was really a hands-on learn-by-necessity trade as a new wife and mom.  She also never taught me to iron or sew. My mom had amazing sewing ability. She could fix zippers, buttons, hem lines, etc. She also used to make doll and Barbie clothes, which proves she was very gifted. Ironically, before my mom died, she taught my husband how to use a sewing machine when we inherited my grandma's. Since Tony was in charge of sewing on cub scout badges, I think he was motivated to learn something other than the by-hand methodology. I, on the other hand, can only sew on a button. Other than that, I defer to my uber-talented sewing husband. At least one of us knows how.

As amazing as I think my mom was as a mom and how she exemplified being a model wife, I don't think she trained me in how to be a woman. We talked about The Birds and The Bees but I don't recall her showing me how to apply makeup, do my hair, or how to dress for my petite frame. And, looking back, I can see why I am satisfied with my 'natural' look. I never learned differently. But this lack of training did affect my self-esteem and has impacted many decisions I have made into adulthood, even into my 40s.




Every "Mom and Me' cooking class we take together, or when we complete a chore together, I know I am preparing her to be a woman. Maybe it may be a stereo-typical woman--a feminist may say I am being too old-fashioned in my intentions. But old-fashioned is good in my book. If she chooses a career path that lends itself to her being single and choosing to not have children, the time I have spent with her doing 'womanly' things does not seem wasted to me. It will still create a confidence and a sense of being a well-rounded person. She can bring that confidence into every area of her life.

Even now, I see this gradual shift in her opinion of herself. She wants to grow her hair out from bangs, so taking care of her hair is mandatory at this time. She fixes her own hair every morning, experimenting with different looks. Elise is also intentional in what she wants to wear each day and I see a more feminine side coming out in her. And she is only 7. 

I guess my main point is that the make-over last night really stirred up some unresolved angst about what I was lacking as a teen, and how that lack of self-confidence has manifested itself over and over in various ways into my 40s. Hopefully, I will be a better mom, wife, and person because of it. And help my daughter love herself as much as I love her.

Moving into the 21st Century: One Cassette Tape at a Time

This past October my husband and I did a mini remodel of our house--namely our family room and our master bedroom. The bedroom was always the plan, but the family room was the 'bonus'. While shopping for bedroom furniture, a sofa called to us. We decided to spend a little less on the bedroom set and also buy the sofa, an end table and a coffee table. Free financing for 6 months When our tax refund arrives, we'll pay off the furniture. Sweet!

It was our desperately old bedroom that needed a romantic make-over. Not only was our queen mattress too small, but we figured it was probably 20 years old. Two bad qualities for someone who lives with a sleep disorder.  Free financing a very expensive bed for 3 years justified the amount we paid for it. Especially since we seemed to like to keep our mattresses for 20 years. Our end result was beautiful.

Since I am the anti-hoarder, I loved the ability to purge and clean both rooms until they were sparkly new and organized. Which is actually the point of my blog. I uncovered a dirty, er, dusty little secret in the process. For 7 years I had about 100 cassette tapes neatly tucked away under our coffee table, hidden from view. I was confronted with the reality that I needed to do something with them.

For anyone who might stumble upon my blog and be under the age of 20, cassette tapes were after 8 Track tapes and phonograph records and before CDs. Rather like VHS tapes versus DVDs.  But here's the thing. I did not just throw them out. In the words of Dr. Seuss, I would not, could not throw them here or there, I would not, could not throw them anywhere. Least of all the trash. The reality, sad or not, is that there is a lot of great 70s and 80s music on those tapes. At least half of them were store bought, but a surprising number of them were homemade mix tapes. Just thinking about the money I used to spend back in the 80s buying the 'high quality' Memorex tapes makes me shudder a little. In fact, I recall spending hours taping songs directly from the radio--and having to record my phonograph records onto tapes when stereos no longer came with the turn-table. That was a sad day in the history of my life.  Smart move sound quality-wise but a lot of work. And, though dusty, I have to admit that occasionally I did pull out a tape and play it either in my 2008 van, which still has a tape player, or on one of our two stereo systems, which are just as old as the tapes themselves. Those tapes were not necessarily forgotten, but rather like Monica's closet from Friends.  I figured if they were out of view then they did not need addition. But with the fresh family room, I needed to address the tape collection.

I listened to each tape, many of them older Christian music. Most of those tapes were mixed tapes that my co-worker Dan at the utility company made me. He was our custodian and worked nights. Cleaning my cubicle, he found my stash of Amy Grant, Wayne Watson and Steven Curtis Chapman tapes that I would play quietly as I worked. That sparked a great conversation of our devotion to Christ and to the transforming power of Christian music. It was through Dan that I was introduced to Derek Floyd, Scott Wesley Brown, and David Meece. Dan also quadrupled my Wayne Watson collection, and added to other favorites like Matthew Ward, Larnell Harris, Petra and Kathy Troccolli. Playing these classic artists from the early 90s made me miss that music era again.

Living where we do, I am fortunate that we have an amazingly wonderful Christian music station. And for 20 years I have been a faithful listener through its name changes and signal changes. But their music changes as well, and while contemporary, I wish they would go back to playing some 'oldies'. I love Chris Tomlin, Jeremy Camp, Casting Crowns, MercyMe and Newsboys as much as anyone. But the earlier music is so powerful, too. It is a shame that with the resurgence of 80s music on any radio station in the country, my local Christian station does not play some classic Michael English, Steven Curtis Chapman, Steve Green, New Song and 4 Him on a regular basis. You get my idea.

Intermingled with the Christian music is the standard soft rock music from days gone by: Rick Springfield, Loverboy, Foreigner, Journey, Def Leppard, KISS, Depeche Mode. What can I say? I am a diverse music lover.  There was some great stuff that I had clearly forgotten about and had replaced by more current music Cd's to play. What is a girl to do?!?

I downsized. After listening to some of the music, I realized that I could purge a few, like Brian Barrett, Sierra and Point of Grace. They did not stand the test of time. But there was a long list of artists that I knew I wanted to replace the mixed tape with a true CD. So for my birthday, I looked through the clearance and 'oldies' section of Wal Mart, Target, Best Buy and K-Mart and replaced what I could find. I found a decent number of them available for usually less than $7 per CD--a few even at $2.99. The Right Price. Sweet. (Bemused or irritated that these artists fell under 'oldies'....well, whatever. I suppose at some point I would be considered in the 'older' generation.)

itunes gift card, where I was able to take some of the individual songs I preferred and get rid of the actual full cassette tape from where they originated.

After three months, my chore is completed. Spending too much money on myself (but using birthday and Christmas as my excuse), I have been able to get rid of about 60 of the tapes. I still have about 25 store bought cassettes from artists whose music I like, but think the tape is 'good enough'. Plus I have about 15 mixed tapes that are so mixed that to replace them would cost more than I care to spend, although I like them well enough to keep. I also still have a 2 page 'wish list' of CDs I hope to eventually purchase, and individual songs to buy from itunes slowly, over time. Between furniture and music, I am over budget and out of money. Maybe by the end of this year I will have collected them all, which averages out to about one or two Cd's a month, plus a few individual songs at a time.

Being a sensible person, I did not throw out any of the store quality tapes. Those I will either put on Freecycle or wait for our next book and tape drive at my daughter's school. They are still great music--just an outdated version. I am sure I can find a new owner of the classic music. Someone else who needs to move out of the 80s but will be 'tickled pink' to find them.

I can claim to be officially in the Y2K era though. As for the small collection of VHS tapes I still have. OK, I am still a work in progress as far as THAT goes. I'll get there eventually, too.

Introspection on Blogging

If there is a new word of this particular decade that sums up life, I would have to say "BLOGGER" or "BLOGGING' is probably up close to the top of the list. With something like 50 million bloggers, it is not a unique craft, a unique idea, and probably, there's not a new topic not already written about. Even sites that don't consider themselves being blogs, but rather news sources, are probably still in the blog category. They just know how to fancify their site and earn money while doing what they love to do. Write.

I started blogging 2 1/2 yrs. ago and I did it earnestly, with passion, and often. Like a good sex life, I suppose. But then I thought I would take it to the next level. I started writing for two on-line sites. One is found at www.stlfamilylife.com and the other is www.townandcountry-manchester.patch.com. I stopped finding time to write just for me. Between having 2 kids, a husband and 4 pets, trying to balance home life with writing life, something had to give. It was my blog sites.

Contrary to what some people may believe, I don't get paid. It's all just a way to get what I like to write about more exposure than the few followers that I have. Instead of having dozens of people reading my work, I have hundreds. I like those odds. But here is the thing. At some point I had hoped to turn them into paying gigs. I've gotten some good feedback from my published articles, which are sometimes informative, and other times, just entertaining. But nobody wants to pay you for your work.
I am not complaining. I appreciate the opportunity to get that experience. But after a year and a half, I feel like I am running out of good topics, or feeling the pressure to produce articles on a weekly basis--and not always feeling very appreciated in the process. Editors are quite honest about wanting to pay as little as possible for their contributors. If I had 'discovered' my passion for writing even a few years ago, I might have been able to make this a paying job.

So I have taken a leave from writing on a weekly schedule and I want to start blogging again. Just for me. On whatever topic tickles my fancy. Most likely I will turn my attention to my other blog site, which is found at www.bonsheart.blogspot.com, which I encourage you to check out if you haven't. I write about my mom's history, which is a gut-wrenching, unique, and yet beautiful, story of her life. Both as a child and as an adult. She passed away 4 years ago and it's a great way to keep her memory alive. There is a lot I don't say about her. There is a lot of pain in the 17 months leading up to her death that I won't ever share in public. Way too personal. But she is part of a history that is literally dying. She would have been 74 this week. Having been part of the post ww2 genocide, she would be among the youngest of the survivors of this era. Rather like there only being 8 survivors left of Pearl Harbor attack--or the last Titanic survivor dying.In another decade there may be no more Russian Red Army genocide survivors from the mid to late 1940's. Very sad.

While I am not giving up on writing for the other sites, I hope to get these two blogs up and running more frequently again, because I do have a lot to say. And the forum to say it. Maybe it is better if it is on my personal website and not edited by someone who may not like me mentioning God or Jesus.

Thank you to my regular followers, and for all the strangers who happen to stumble upon my blog. I wish I had more comments on my plethora of posts so I could get feedback. More followers would be nice, too. Just to know that there are 'regulars' out there who genuinely find enjoyment from my posts.

So thank you, readers, for, well, reading my work. And I hope to see a lot more of you in 2012. You will definitely see a lot more of me in 2012 as well.

A Celebration of Veteran's from my Present and Past

A few years ago, Mr. Mike Schultz, a fifth grade teacher, wanted to create a "Remembrance Wall' that celebrated relatives within the school's community who has in the past or is currently serving in any branch of the military.

Mr. Schultz served in the United States Navy Reserves from 1993 to 2003, completing two weeks of training each year at Navy bases in California, Thailand, and London, England. In addition, his daughter Sarah is an MP in the United States Army.

While stationed at Fort Carson, Colorado, Sarah is currently completing her second deployment to Afghanistan. His son Patrick serves in the United States Navy as a Cytological Technician and recently transferred to Fort Gordon, Georgia. During his time at Ft. Gordon, Patrick will be deployed occasionally to work aboard submarines.

Continuing his vision of honoring and remembering those who have served our country, Mr. Schultz began organizing and serving as Master of Ceremonies at the school's Annual Veteran's Day Assembly.

Fathers, mothers, sons and grandfathers gathered and were honored at the ceremony this past Monday. As I attended this year's 2nd annual event, it occurred to me in my short-sightedness that my personal knowledge of Veterans, past or present, was very limited.

My dad Roger voluntarily enlisted as a United States Marine Corps reservist from September 1958 to September 1964. He was prepared to be sent to active duty, but never was despite the Vietnam War and the Bay of Pigs Invasion in Cuba overlapping his reserve duty. While my dad will certainly talk about his life as a Marine, he always seems to make a distinction between active and reservist duty, never really wanting to be referred to as a Veteran. And yet that is exactly what he is.

However, my dad's Olsen family history has a long legacy of active military men. My grandfather Edward was one of 11 children, ten sons and one daughter. Of these 10 sons, 6 of them served during World War 2. With a 24 year span of the 11 births, two of the sons were too old to serve (including my grandpa Edward), one was too young at the time, and one was physically handicapped.
They appeared in a July 1944 article in the Round Lake Beach town in which they lived, being given accolades for their dedication in serving our country. Olaf, Sr., born 1908, served in the United States Navy; George, born 1909, and Harold, born 1911, served in the United States Army Air Corps.; Iver, born 1913, was in the Quartermaster Division of the United States Army; Art, born 1917, served in the Merchant Marines (Art's son Brian also served in the United States Navy from 1965 to 1969); and finally, Everett "Boze", born 1922, served as a United States Marine.

My great-grandma Jennie, proud mother of the six sons serving in the military, had a flag bearing six stars outside her home in recognition and honor of the great sacrifice her family was making for our country. All six men returned home safely from war.
Each of these 10 brothers (and one sister) has passed away; the youngest son known as "Hap" dying most recently in February 2008. I did not have a personal relationship with any of my great uncles or Great Aunt Hazel.

Still, it is an honor to be related to them and to know that many of my great uncles served and sacrificed to help make our country the wonderful place it is today. This legacy continues through all the servicemen and women who are still actively serving today to preserve our freedom, making a personal family sacrifice and, sadly, sometimes sacrificing their own lives in the line of duty.
On this Veteran's Day, please take time to acknowledge our military men and women, past and present. Thank them for what they have done for us. But most of all, remember them.
As quoted by Dan Lipinski "On this Veterans Day, let us remember the service of our veterans, and let us renew our national promise to fulfill our sacred  obligations to our veterans and their families who have sacrificed so much so that we can live free."

Tribute on the Death of Bil Keane

Bil Keane, creator of The Family Circus cartoon, died at age 89 of heart failure in early November. His wife Thel died in May of 2008, after celebrating 60 years of marriage. Today they are once again reunited, but leaving behind their five children, who were the inspiration behind the characters Billy, Dolly, Jeffy and PJ.

It is today that I mourn the loss of not only an inspirational cartoonist, who lived out his life as ethically as he drew it, but I mourn the loss of a friend. My relationship with Mr. Keane began in 1979, writing a fan letter to him at the tender age of 12. He wrote me back, to which I sent another letter.

After that second letter, his wife wrote me a personal note and enclosed with it two personal limited edition copies of books that were out of print. He personalized the inside of each book to me. As a young girl, this was beyond my wildest dreams that a man I admired so greatly would take the time to acknowledge his biggest fan.

The relationship did not stop there. We stayed in yearly contact. At Christmas, instead of a traditional Christmas letter, he would send out a Christmas calendar, personally penned to me. His only daughter Gayle, the inspiration of "Dolly", also personally contacted me about the various memorabilia that was available for sale.

Over several years I collected mugs, figurines, ornaments, posters, plaques, plates. And, of course, every book. She personally held a stock of whatever had been created in storage for me to make sure it was available to me as I could afford to buy them.

In 1987, over Spring Break, my mom and I flew out to Arizona to meet the Keane's to celebrate an early 21st birthday. Gayle and my mom had conspired with Mr. Keane to arrange it.  He picked us up at our hotel and drove us back to his home and his studio in Paradise Valley, Arizona. He pointed out that Erma Bombeck lived just down the street but was not in town at the time. Otherwise, he would have introduced us.

After spending the day with me he wondered who actually had more knowledge of the strip--me or his son Jeff, who would later become his partner. He did not want a 'fan club' but said that if he ever changed his mind, I would be the President. He considered me his #1 fan.

After treating us to lunch at his favorite cafe, we parted for a few hours before inviting us to come to the Ice Capades with him that evening, where he was receiving a "Good Skate Award" by Olympic athletes Kitty and Peter Carruthers. My favorite part of that evening was that he asked me to hold his award while he signed autographs.

Thel snapped many pictures of me and Bil during his autograph signing. We snuck out shortly after the awards ceremony as not to be mobbed at the end of the show. I felt a little like a celebrity myself. As a final birthday present, he told me to pick out my favorite cartoon and he would send me the hand-drawn original. To this day, it is proudly framed in my family room.

As a wedding present, he sent us a personalized cartoon congratulating us as a married couple, and welcomed the birth of our son Adam with another personalized cartoon.  In 2001, I arranged to come out to Arizona again, but this time with my husband and son. Thel delighted in Adam. I delighted in the joy of being in the Keane's presence again. It was a 'once in a lifetime' experience that I enjoyed twice.

His generosity was endless. He was a Godly man, who lived out what he drew. And his wife Thel was as delightful as the man himself. She was witty and intelligent. The quiet strength behind his success, I like to think. My favorite moment of that trip was following Mrs. Keane into the kitchen to serve dishes of Breyer's Butter Pecan ice cream for the 5 of us. She asked me to get the bowls and napkins, while she served us. An ordinary moment made extraordinary. They were like family.

My husband and I had hoped to make one more trip out to see him after the birth of our daughter in 2004. But I knew he was in his 80s and I was not sure that it would be appropriate to invite ourselves over again. Communication waned a bit over the last decade. I spoke to both Gayle and Jeff on the phone after learning that their mom had passed away. Gayle shared with me then that their dad's health was declining as well.

Bil Keane lived a rich and wonderful life. He had all the same joys and sorrows, love and heartache as the rest of the world. But despite his 'celebrity' status, he was not one to seek out publicity. He was just a "Daddy', who loved "Mommy", "Billy", "Dolly", "Jeffy" and "PJ". And we loved him.

I have memories that would fill a book but instead it fills my heart. Remembering a great man, who raised a wonderful family. Thank you, Bil Keane, for enriching my life and leaving behind such a great family legacy. I will miss you more than I can put in words. Bless you, Bil Keane. Bless you.

What was Lost was Found: Who was Lost is still Lost

When I think back to that last Sunday in July, it isn't my 11 year old son's baptism that comes to mind. Although it was a glorious day, one filled with God's love, faithfulness and pride as a parent--certainly worthy of its own blog--it is over-shadowed by an internal conversation I had with myself later that night.

As on most Sundays, I wore my silver cremation necklace. It is a necklace that I wear on a regular basis, especially on the days where I am missing my mom--whose ashes it contains. The 4th year anniversary of her death was quickly approaching and wearing my cross during that particular season of my life has always brought comfort, where words might otherwise fail. And for whatever reason, I miss my mom on Sundays more than any other day of the week.

But on this Sunday, as I removed the necklace from around my neck and hung it back into my jewelry case, I made a mental note that it would be at least another week before I would wear it again. The kids and I were taking a week long trip to visit friends, while my husband stayed behind to work and take care of our pets. He was preparing for one of his regular trips overseas and the additional, uninterrupted work time would help him; while a little get-away was just what the kids and I needed. That internal dialogue included the fact that I knew the necklace would stay behind. Too precious to accidentally lose or misplace while traveling. I was leaving it safely behind. Or so I thought.

About 4 days after returning from our trip, I reached for my necklace, which was a day shy of the 4th year anniversary. It was missing. Piece by piece, I emptied my jewelry box of each hanging necklace. Determined that it should be exactly where I remember hanging it, I was instantly reduced to tears. There were few pieces of jewelry that held sentimental value, but this was one of them. I was unusually careful with it.

Calling my husband that morning at work, he confirmed that I had not left it laying out during our vacation; he had not seen it or done anything with it. It was then that I knew it had been stolen.  And here is where it gets complicated.

Because I knew Tony would be working long hours, we had friends and neighbors lined up throughout the week during the day to take care of Snickers and give him potty breaks and some play time. They had access to our house. However, during that same week, another person who we trusted was allowed in the house and had the same access to my jewelry. In my heart, I knew it was stolen by that trusted person. In the interest of privacy and not vilifying that person, I will not name them by name. Herein known as 'him' or 'he' only, my story continues.

The news was devastating. Occurring on the wake of a painful anniversary was dealing with the hurt, frustration and anger I felt that someone close to us could be so bold as to steal from me. Grieving for my mom was replaced by grieving for the loss of an irreplaceable piece of jewelry. Tony and I briefly talked about pressing charges, but we knew that in the interest of doing a thorough investigation, police would have to also speak to our friends and neighbors whom we had charged with caring for Snickers. It was not fair to them to be 'suspects'. We needed to handle this privately.

Tony lovingly confronted 'the suspect' with the disappearance of this jewelry and was met with a reaction of disgust and anger that we would 'accuse' him. He expected an apology from me when the necklace was found. In the interest of making sure that I had not made some monumental error, a day later I spent 5 hours in our bedroom looking for the necklace. I literally tore the room apart. From taking the mattress and box springs off the bed, to removing every piece of clothing in every drawer; unfolding all the extra sets of bedding in storage under our bed. We moved every piece of furniture from against the wall. No stone was left unturned. It was definitely gone.

One last time I emptied my jewelry box. It was then I noticed a second piece was missing. Like some cruel joke, I could not believe that another cross had been taken. One that my mom had given me the Christmas 10 years before her death. She had been given the cross at her own catholic confirmation in Schalding, Germany, while living in a refuge camp in 1949. They would immigrate to the United States the following year.  This 62 year old cross did not have a chain. It sat solitary in a ring holder, next to another cross I had purchased for myself years earlier. That one was untouched.

Just two days after discovering the cremation necklace gone, one day after the anniversary of her death, I am hit with the confirmation that the disappearance was not neglect or carelessness on my part; they were indeed stolen. And both pieces irreplaceable--a part of my mom's memory and life. I remember sitting there dazed; trying to comprehend that not only had they both been stolen, but they were the two most precious pieces of my limited jewelry collection.  Ironically, my pearl necklace and earrings were still there. My diamond earrings untouched. Certainly he did not know the sentimental value of what he took. It was just a cruel twist of fate that he was drawn to the unique pieces that were associated with my mom and the timing of it all.

My loving husband contacted all the area pawn shops within nearby proximity of where the person of interest lived. Sending an e-mail with a picture of the necklace (off the website from which it was purchased) and a picture of whom we presumed would hock them, we hoped that the necklace and/or person would be identified.  It took probably 10 days but then we received an e-mail. The cremation necklace was located, the seller of said necklace postively ID'd. The bad news was that the necklace had already been sold. The good news? The owner was able to get the cross portion holding the ashes back from whom he had sold it. The silver rope chain was gone, however. As for the 62 year old cross, he said I could look through what he had acquired in the previous month and I was encouraged to retrieve my items free of charge. With no picture, he did not know if the gold cross was still in his shop.

With my husband now already on his business trip, I ventured to the upscale jewelry pawn shop on my own that Monday morning. With emotions too strong for words, I reclaimed the cremation cross, holding it tightly--thankful for the kind pawn shop owner who took the time to do the right thing. He could have said that it had already been sold and he was unable to get it back. But he didn't. He presumably lost money by retrieving it for me. But his generous heart did not stop there. Before me lay about half dozen gold crosses. Immediately, I was able to rule out the ones that were not my mom's. But I hesitated. There was one that I was 99 percent sure was hers. But honestly, I could not say with 100 percent certainty it was the one. Crosses were dime a dozen, often hocked; easily purchased. Still, I continued to hold the cross and question if it belonged to me. "Take it", Albert said (his name changed for privacy) "If you walk away without it, you'll regret it. If your heart is telling you it's yours, then it is. Don't second guess it." With tears in my eyes, I thanked him for helping me out.

Still, having those back in my possession did not 'fix' everything.  The one who stole it lied to us--not once but twice. After reclaiming them, Tony called him back. Told him we found the items and he had been ID'd. He still denied it. Just like Peter denying Christ three times by the time the rooster crowed, this person was caught red-handed and yet still had the hutzpah to claim innocence. My heart broke.

Perhaps a day later, this person called Tony again, while he was still away on business. In a tearful apology, he finally confessed his guilt. Apologizing to Tony, but not to me was a slap in the face. He had assumed that since we were rich and he has nothing, we would never notice those pieces missing. As if his lack of work ethic and productivity in life justified stealing from us. It did not matter that we trusted him in our home despite a strained relationship in the past. Tony extended grace and accepted his apology but said the right thing to do was to apologize to me.

It has been a month and that apology has not come, nor will it ever, I'm sure.

Which is why I feel burdened enough on this dreary Sunday afternoon to write about this experience. At first I felt violated. How much had he cased our house, looking for 'hockable' items? Or did he go straight for the gold and silver? And how to do I forgive when he hasn't asked for my forgiveness? Several other more pressing situations have happened since the disppearance of the two crosses, which deflected from the importance of his betrayal. In the grand scheme of things, I got my valued jewelry back. No harm was done. Still, I'm finding myself angry again. Where is the apology that he would have expected from me?

For me, the relationship is severed. And this person will have no further contact with my two children. The relationship he has with Tony is more personal. How much damage was done for him is not for me to say. Or for me to judge. All I know is that Tony and I agreed he will not be allowed in our home again--or near our kids again. Ever. Not without a God-breathed, time tested and trued change of heart and mind and soul. And the kind of life-changing authentic apology that you know comes from a changed person.

The Bible calls me to forgive. After looking at his past, I can see why he ventured down this ugly, law-breaking path. I can see why his life lead to this point.  But for my healing alone, I need to reach a point of forgiveness. But I will not forget. And I will not be so naive to think that at this point he realizes the depth of what he did wrong. He is not sorry for the fact he stole. He is sorry that he got caught, and harmed his relationship with Tony.  His apology was never about the act of stealing--or the violation against me. No reparation has truly been made in my eyes. He is Godless and heartless.

The cremation cross sits without a chain in my jewelry box. Whereas I used to wear it several days per week, I cannot look at it without pain and hurt. I visualize him stuffing it carelessly in his pocket, offering it for a price to Albert. Another woman wearing the cross that holds a piece of my mom. It's tainted now. Somehow I need to work through this by finding another unique chain and wearing it again. But right now, the thought brings me pain, which outweighs the comfort and the closeness I felt by wearing it.

I grieve today for what he took from me. Maybe this sounds ultra-dramatic and I'm making a big fuss over nothing. Perhaps no one can relate. But it's truly the way I feel. But the Bible tells us in Matthew 10 that we are to take up our cross and follow Jesus. So when I look at the crosses that were taken from me, I need to remember the cross that was given to me by his sacrifice on the his cross that was for my salvation and to forgive me of my sins. And maybe one day that person will understand what pain he caused and accept the free gift of forgiveness. From Jesus. And from me.

Adam and Elise's Acting Debut starring JESUS

Both my kids were asked to take part in an on-stage discussion about their visit to a local nursing home. Because their stage presence was professional, they were later asked to be in an all-church video to solicit volunteers for our summer long VBS program known as Passport.

What they quickly learned is that a 3 minute video takes an hour and half to film; and preparing to know their lines ahead of time took quite a bit of a commitment, too.

As a parent, I can say that this is one of my proudest moments. Both my kids rocked the video and made us proud to represent the church--and believers in Christ.

My blond children are easy to identify. Elise is in the aqua blue t-shirt and her brother Adam is wearing red sporting some long locks as he approaches middle school.

Milestones in My Son's Life, Milestone in Parenting

I have always loved the quote by Elizabeth Stone "Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." In regards to parenting, no truer words have ever been spoken.

The truth is that my heart is no longer my own. I check on my kids moments before I go to sleep at night and they are my first thought in the morning. The truth is that everything I do in my life is a reflection of them, and their physical and emotional well-being are always foremost in my mind.
Each day is spent cherishing the moments I am creating for them and with them, trying not to look back in regret or look out too far in the future.

At least that was the way I felt until recently. This year is flying by incredibly fast and before I was prepared for it, the school year ended. Not just any school year, but my son's last one at the elementary level. And this new reality hit me hard and unexpectedly one morning. My son is a tween and his middle school days are upon us. And there is no turning back. Parenting Adam has been a joy. For the most part, he has made parenting easy for me. We have an easy, mutually respectful relationship, but as I see him approaching those dreaded teen years, his independence from me is a challenge.
I know that God has only given me my children for a time. He has given them to me to raise up for Him and to raise them to be loving, caring, responsible adults. God never intended for me to have them under my care forever. He has only given me the here and now; and if I'm lucky, lots of tomorrows. Still I felt stuck in the grief in the chapter of this part of his life coming to a close; afraid of what the tomorrows may bring. I did not know how to come out of the grief I was feeling. Then God gave me answer in a way I never expected.

Adam is a competitive, level 5 gymnast. His coach had given him the deadline of May 26 to conquer his fear of doing a back flip on the trampoline, unassisted. It was a skill that would be necessary to continue his growth. On May 26 I walked my tearful, fearful son into practice to talk with his coach Jack. "Adam can do the skill." Jack told me. "But he wants me on the trampoline spotting him. I want him to do it by himself."

So I did my best to encourage my son, knowing that no words would guarantee that he would take the leap of faith to conquer the fear. And I stood out of his sight and watched him perform the back flip over and over with his coach nearby spotting him. In a final desire to encourage him I announced my presence in the room and said "Adam, you own this. You OWN it! You are nailing it every time. You can do it. You can!"

It took until later that evening but Adam did the back flip on his own. And he did it over and over. He came home that night so proud of himself for facing the fear and doing it in spite of the fear. But it was the words that he said that spoke to me. "Mom, Jack told me I could do it but it was you, Mom. It was your encouragement that made me know I could do it. And I did!"

I said a prayer of thanks as I took my son in a bear hug and congratulated him. The teen years will have the ups and downs of life. No doubt it will be filled with a lot of moments where I am in the background of his life. But me and Adam? We're gonna be just fine!

Getting Back to the Basics

It was the end of May and it was the last week of school. I had my days planned out. It all came down to the final 5 mornings without children underfoot. I had my plan...but then God had his. God always wins.

We have lived in the same neighborhood for nearly 7 years. In those years we have been fortunate to rarely experience the loss of electricity.  Except we lost power that very first morning of the 'final five' in all the busy craziness that is the end of school. And, life as I knew it, stood still.

The impact was felt immediately by my 6 year old daughter Elise. She had an Internet Webkins party scheduled to take place at 12:30 p.m. The outage began at approximately 12:25 p.m., just as I went to log her in. I had even changed my plans around to make sure we were home in time for her virtual pet party. Thankfully, she giggled at the irony of the timing.

And then we stared at each other in silence. What now?

What has the world come to that we have no telephone, no Internet, no television, no air conditioning and we feel completely and totally out of touch. We piddled around the house until the storm passed and the sun began to shine again, giving us a little more natural lighting indoors.

So we played. We played like two 6 year olds. Elise got out her favorite board games that rarely get taken off the shelf. And we played with her cat and dog park, making up silly pet names and fun imaginative scenarios. And we talked. As I was playing with her it reminded me of why I had become a parent in the first place. We lose so much in the busyness of our lives that we forget about engaging and investing in the lives of the people we love.

The fact is that I have been struggling for the last several days with the fact that my son Adam is leaving elementary school at the end of this week. He is moving onto bigger and better and newer. His childhood is nearly over as he enters the tween and teen years. While I knew that I had a 'to do' list that had to be done, I also knew that soon enough it will be my daughter making that same transition and these stolen moments together will be fewer and farther between, too.

But God gave me at least one more impromptu moment with Adam. While my 'plan' was to watch one of Oprah's finale shows when he got off the school bus, the better plan was to play one more board game with the three of us, and then to read with Adam as we work our way through the seventh and final installment of the Harry Potter series we've been reading together in the last year.

But, alas, the power was restored, which meant it was time for me to meet my writing deadline and for the kids to enthusiastically re-engage with the television. Still, this afternoon reminded me that technology is not always best. Sometimes it's about getting back to the basics.

Home Alone in the 21st Century

It has been just over 20 years since the Home Alone movie rocketed Macaulay Culkin into stardom. It was the cheek slap heard around the world that has been parodied ever since. While most people would agree that 8-year-old Kevin (played by Culkin) was too young to be 'home alone', it begs the question: What is the right age? Or perhaps more fittingly, is there an age specified in the Missouri statutes or in St. Louis County?

I consulted with Lieutenant Bob Arthur of Town and Country police to help answer the question. He said that there was no magical age in St. Louis for when staying home alone is legal (only Illinois and Maryland have specific state laws regulating it). From both experience as a dad of three now-grown children and as an officer who has seen the best and worst of St. Louis, his recommendation is age 12.
Let's face it, with summer quickly approaching, doesn't a little freedom from children underfoot sound enticing? But how do you know your child is ready? Lt. Arthur says that there are basic things your child should know before you leave them alone for any length of time. At the most basic level, they need to know how to dial 9-1-1 and their own street address. Having your child memorize your cell phone is a great idea, too. You may have it on a bulletin board at home but if (s)he can't get it to it in an emergency, (s)he should still know how to reach you.

Children also need to know what to do in case of an emergency. Does your child know where the water shut-off valve is located or the electric breaker box? Do you have a first aid kit where your child can find it if necessary? If they need to leave the house for any reason (like a fire), do they know which neighbors are usually home and they can count on as a 'safe' house? Do they know how to reach a neighbor by phone if they can't reach you?

Arthur stressed too, that you need to rely on your instincts. If you doubt that your child will obey the house rules (do not answer the door, do not use the stove, no friends may come over, etc) then that is a good indication that regardless of chronological age, they may not have the emotional maturity to be responsible enough yet.

Supposing you have decided that staying home alone is acceptable, now what? For us, it means signing up our 11-year-old for a "Home Alone" class. They are held all around the area--at the Des Peres Lodge, Ballwin Pointe, through Rockwood and Parkway Continuing Education, and through all the local hospitals. Don't discount the value in having someone reinforce what you have already instructed your children to do, no matter how thorough you thought you were.

Another tip is to start out in small time blocks. Initially, I left our son Adam home for 10 minutes at a time. I also never allow him to stay home alone if a) I cannot drop everything and come home immediately 2) I am more than a five-minute car ride away 3) I cannot predict how long I will be be gone (Like a doctor's appointment).

The last tip is this: Do not push the matter if your child has any hesitation at all. There are times when our son is more comfortable than others in being home alone. There is no rhyme or reason to his comfort level but I always give him the option. Oftentimes, he will choose to come with me. I want him to be in tune with his gut feeling and I respect his decision even if it would be more convenient to have him stay home. The reality is that eventually they will be ready to, and when they are, the transition will go smoothly if you go at a pace you are both comfortable with. In the meantime, just enjoy the fact that they still want to be near you. That may not last forever.

Chid Restraint Laws in St . Louis

Reposted with minor revisions from the original post that appeared on townandcountry-manchester.patch.com

Over spring break there were three of us moms discussing the use of seat belt restraints/booster seats in St. Louis county. And all three of us had different interpretations of the law. In fact, all three of us believed the law to be different. Even defining the law was difficult.

In April of this year, an ordinance passed in Manchester allowing an officer to pull you over strictly for a seat belt violation. Prior to this change, a seat belt violation could be cited only when an officer was pulling you over for another offense. The exception to this was when children were involved. If an officer noticed a child violating the requirement for their size and age, the driver could be fined independent of any other vehicular offense. But do you know what the regulations are for your child?
Manchester police department's patrol Sergeant Dan West directed me to the Missouri Revised Statutes (Chapter 307.179) to help answer this question. At the link you can read in detail seat belt requirements for all passengers. Below are some highlights.

Infants are required to be in an infant car seat, facing backward in a rear seat. Once they have outgrown the seat according to weight requirements, they may sit in a forward facing seat in a restraint system commonly referred to as a five-point harness. Regardless of age, children who weigh less than 40 pounds must remain in this car seat.

Children at least four years of age but less than eight years of age, who also weigh at least forty pounds but less than eighty pounds, and who are also less than four feet, nine inches tall, shall be secured in a child passenger restraint system (commonly known as a booster seat).

Sergeant West stressed that while your child may be over 8 years old and allowed to ride in a vehicle with only a shoulder and lap restraint system (no booster seat), he urges all parents to continue to have your son or daughter use a booster seat until they meet the height requirement. In an accident, it is the placement of the shoulder strap that will be the most important factor in protecting them from harm or injury. It is body height and weight that impacts how they respond in a crash, not age.

What about riding in the front passenger seat? Sergeant West said that because of air bags, which are standard in most vehicles, children should not ride in the front seat if they are younger than 13. Once again he stressed that substantial injury or death could occur because of the deployment of the air bag that is designed with an adult body size in mind.

Safety should always be our priority when raising our children. Despite protests from kids about wearing a seat belt or arguing with us that they want to give up a booster seat, or them wanting to be allowed to sit in the front seat, it is not about making them happy. It's about keeping them safe--and obeying the laws of the road.

Finding your Inner Julia Child

One of my all-time favorite movies is Julie & Julia. It was because of that movie that I wanted to amp up my cooking skills. Despite being a fairly diverse cook, it was often my favorite part of the day. After 10 years of marriage (and cooking), I needed isnpiration.

Can I get an Amen?

If you are nodding your head in silent agreement, read below on how I tackled the cooking doldrums.

It was at a doctor’s waiting room that I found my initial inspiration in the form of the cooking magazine Cooking Light. I realized I had stagnated over the years; not particularly paying attention to how healthy my recipes were, or challenging myself to become a better cook. Routinely I had chosen short-and-to-the-point recipes that did not grow my skills. Subscribing to this magazine for a few years was a perfect first step in changing that. Not only did it give me new recipes to try, it highlighted different vegetables or spices each month; and it offered cooking tips, such as how to pan-sear properly. Each issue I would make a comprehensive list of the recipes and page numbers I wanted to try. After I had accumulated about 6 issues, I typed it them up into a Word document and placed it in the front pocket of my binder.

The next step was making sure I made a new recipe a few times a month. After realizing that I probably had over 150 new recipes ear-marked to try, I realized I needed to be more intentional in incorporating them into our weekly menu. About 6 months ago, I decided that our family would eat a minimum of two new recipes a week. Sometimes that means two new entrees, and sometimes it might be side dishes or a new dessert. Occasionally, I’ll even be inspired to make all new recipes all week long. Some are hits, some are definite misses. But at least my adaptable family enjoys the adventure of it all.

About 3 months ago, I decided to further challenge myself to grow as a cook by incorporating one new ingredient per week. Turnips, parsnips, capers and patty pan squash are just a few of them. Everyone in our family loves mushrooms so even experimenting with the different varieties has been a fun way to take the ordinary and make it extraordinary.

Of all the changes I’ve made in the last few years, my absolute favorite has been learning to cook ethnic dishes. Our favorite cuisine is Asian: Thai, Chinese, Japanese and, recently, Korean. For authentic (albeit Americanized) dishes, it requires specialty sauces and spices. Sesame oil, peanut oil, mirin, tamari and hoisen sauces are all specialty ingredients that have become staples in our house. Fresh ginger root is the key to all things Asian, so even cooking with fresh spices rather than jarred can really transform your cooking. (Rule of thumb: Use 1/3 the amount of dried herbs to equal chopped fresh.) Try fresh Parmesan cheese rather than the grated variety. So often we have forgotten the original fresh option over the quick, prepared one.

In fact, if your family is less than eager to try a new food, try just adding a new spice (such as using pumpkin pie spice in your chili!) Learn to make a homemade pesto or spaghetti or Alfredo sauce rather than using jarred or canned off the grocery shelf. It might be just enough change to keep you more engaged in the kitchen without a family revolt.

And really, this only scratches the surface of the ways I’ve transformed my cooking over the last few years. Turn cooking from something ‘you have to do’ into something ‘you want to do’. Challenge your cooking talents, stretch your cooking know-how, and impress your friends and family. Your inspiration may be just a meal away

Mom Brain Strikes Again

Are you a mom? Can you relate to the following:

The first time it happened it was a very typical Friday afternoon. I glanced up at the clock and noticed that my son would be getting off the school bus soon, so I went to the front door to make sure it was unlocked. (By fifth grade it is definitely uncool to greet your child at the bus stop). A few minutes later, as the phone began to ring, I realized my faux pas: Every Friday for the last two school years, I have picked Adam up from school at regular dismissal time because of his cello.

The second incident occurred five days later as I waited for my kindergartner to get off the bus. The time came and went with no bus and no daughter. I did notice a few moms I know waving at me as they drove up our street and out of the subdivision; and they were all Daisy Girl Scout moms. The it occurred to me. I forgot about the Daisy Girl Scout meeting.

The third incident was weeks later. Elise had a five-week art class held after school once a week. I completely forgot to take her. In fact, I didn’t even remember the class until the following morning.

So my question is, what gives? For anyone who knows me they will tell you I am organized and detailed to the nth degree. I’ve never been able to relate to other moms who consistently forget things and drop the ball.
Of course, I have many excuses--valid explanations. In fact there is a book by Shaunti and Jeff Feldhan called For Men Only, which accurately depicts a typical woman's workings. Admittedly, I am not typical in many aspects, so I felt that it did not apply to me. But one example struck a chord with me: Open
windows. I have many 'windows' open at all times. While I am typing this blog, I am thinking about my day, which proves to be scheduled down to the last minute; while also wondering if my daughter is getting sick again or maybe it's allergies; thinking about my husband as he drives to Ohio to surprise his bone marrow brother for his birthday; and wondering if the temps are ever going to climb past 70 degrees. Yes, I am multi-tasking in my thoughts. Most women can relate. Of course, I think that is my downfall, too. Life is busy--too busy at times.

Imagine my relief then when Dr. Mehmet Oz wrote in an article about mom brain that it is a true condition. Our brains are 80 percent fat, containing Omega-3 nutrients. The baby receives that nutrient, literally sucking out our brain power. During pregnancy, Dr. Oz says a woman’s brain also shrinks by about 8 percent. “You don’t lose cells. The cells get smaller,” he says. “It might be because you’re focused on one thing, but the good news is after you give birth, your brain begins to rewire quickly. … Your brain actually gets more powerful than before you got pregnant.”

It’s the last part that I find difficult to believe. More powerful? I think my brain forgot to regenerate. I’m just sayin’.

To combat “mommy brain,” Dr. Oz recommends taking omega-3 fatty acids and getting plenty of sleep. “[Omega-3 is] important because we know that it actually allows women to recover from depression faster if they have depression after pregnancy,” he says. “It also allows the brain to grow.”

While he gives that great tip, which I just may try to implement, the true is that I’m fallible. With both of my kids getting older, they are involved in far more scouting, sports and school activities and I have that much more to keep track of. Despite looking at my calendar every day, things are going to slip through the cracks. There is no magic formula and no solution to make sure that things like this don’t happen again. The truth is since my children forgive me, I need to forgive myself. Period.

A Dream, A Vision, Some Carnival Foods

Cancer survivor Harry Freund, a former certified financial advisor and preschool owner, will tell you that he had a vision, an epiphany from God, about three years ago. In that vision he saw himself serving shaved ice among twinkling lights at the once standing Fox Photo store in front of the vacant Chili’s location on Manchester. Two years later, on May 1, 2010, that vision became a reality a few miles farther down Manchester Road at a restaurant aptly named Mr. Harry’s Carnival Foods.

Walking into the store is like walking into a child’s dream, with fun circus decorations and small novelty candies (perfect stocking stuffers at Christmas or basket fillers at Easter), with a game area where you can play checkers, Boggle or even mini Whack-A-Mole.

Located one mile east of Clarkson Road in Ballwin, you can find Harry, his wife Linda, and their twin daughters serving carnival-inspired foods, such as cotton candy, funnel cakes, shaved ice, ice cream, and all the free popcorn your heart desires. They also employ a few former preschool students when they owned and operated Love & Laughter back in the 90's.

If you are in the mood for something more substantial, they also offer a full range of generously sized sandwiches, and homemade sides. The recently began serving up BBQ platters as well when the Freunds began a partnership Jim and Mary Randall of ASAP Barbecue in November of last year. The Randall’s prepare their award-winning barbecue in a mobile trailer on site.

Crave beer while indulging in delicious barbecue? Lucky for your, Mr. Harry’s Carnival Foods recently acquired their liquor license. In addition to one of the most extensive shaved ice menus you’ll find anywhere, you’ll find a strictly adults-only version ‘snowtini’ for your dining pleasure.

ASAP Barbecue and Mr. Harry’s provide catering services. Whether you are looking for a fun circus themed meal, or maybe something a bit more adult-friendly, Mr. Harry’s tailors meals to their customers needs.
Last fall, I partnered with Harry to provide free shaved ice to the children in my kids’ school as part of a fundraising effort. He also provided funnel cakes at the Vacation Bible School program my kids attended last summer at his church. Most recently, he provided hot dogs, corn dogs, shaved ice and cotton candy at my son's Blue & Gold scout banquet whose theme was Circus, Circus.

Need a jump-start to summer? I recommend stopping into Mr. Harry’s Carnival Foods where his slogan is “Where Summer Never Ends.” You’ll be glad you did!