I've been participating in Freecycle for just over two weeks. And I got my second major blessing tonight.
Freecycle is an e-mail network of people who believe in Recycle/Reuse/Reduce. We also believe that someones trash is another person's treasure.
My first experience with Feecycle was getting an aquarium for my son's pet lizard. Someone I had never met happily gave it to me. She even went as far as to say Thank You because it got it out of her garage. She gave us an aquarium with a fake palm tree, and heat lamps for our little guy. And the lizard has been a happy camper since then.
Today it was shoes. A young woman moved into our Ward right around Thanksgiving. She's a Congolese immigrant who speaks only French. Along with a few other people I've been acting as one of her translators. I'm not the best French speaker, by far, but I do try. This poor woman went into labor with her second child 2 weeks ago. She was afraid to go to the hospital because she felt she didn't have everything for the baby. And she was in labor for 2 days with her first. Finally we convinced her to go. I staid at church and communicated to the right people her need for supplies. And of course, those needs were met.
But today I noticed she was wearing very light weight sandals. With night time temperatures plummeting to the 30's I guessed that she was very cold. African people do not have the body fat that we do, and feel the winter temperatures worse than we can imagine. Until they've been here a few years and their body's adjust the fat levels. I asked her, aren't you cold with those shoes? Yes, very cold, was the answer. So I pressed on, what size shoe do you wear? Size 40. I had to stop and think for a bit about that one. I knew it was the European size. I nodded storing that bit of information away.
Tonight I put a posting on Freecycle for shoes in size 7 1/2 to 8, equivalent to her size 40. Within just a few hours I had a response. I've got a bag of shoes, if you would like them. I bundled my son up in a jacket and we rushed for the shoes.
I found a huge garbage bag full of shoes, and purses sitting on a strangers doorstep for me. I checked the address again to make sure this was right. I struggled to bring the bag back to my car. Once in my car I reached in. I pulled out a tennis shoe, brand new. In the car I started to cry. A stranger, who doesn't know us, doesn't even know why I needed shoes gave me these. I felt such an outpouring of love to this unknown woman who would offer such a gift to me. All she knew was that I needed shoes size 7 1/2 to 8, preferably warm winter shoes.
At home I took them all out. In all 9 pairs of shoes and 6 purses. I don't quite know what to do with a Ralph Lauren, and Dooney Bourke purse. Tomorrow the shoes will go to my dear friend in need.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Monday, December 24, 2007
Inferno
At 6am my alarm clock went off on a Sunday morning. I rolled over, contemplating how many times I could hit the snooze button. The kids were with Grandma and Grandpa, so I didn't need as much time as usual. But I was singing in choir and had to be there early. My eyes fluttered open as a slapped the alarm clock.
My room was bathed in orange light. Outside I could hear something. A car pulling out of the parking lot I thought. But the light was moving in the wrong way. I rolled back to the window and peaked open a blind.
It was a fireball. Total fireball. Flames were licking up out of burning vehicle into the trees. The trees framed the apartment building across from mine. And all the apartments faced in such a way that those people couldn't see the fire.
Took me two tries to dial 911. The dispatcher told me that her co-worker was on the phone with someone else about the fire. I hung up the phone and grabbed clothes.
I ran across the street. The elderly couple in the closest apartment was already awake. They were just coming out to their patio from where they could actually see the apartment.
"Do you know who's cars these are?" I shouted at them.
We looked at each other in stunned silence. The wife looked at the vehicles and shook her head.
"I think they belong to people on the back side of the building," the husband finally said.
"Okay, I'll take care of the people on the back. You wake up the people on this side. It looks like it could set the tree on fire."
The wife looked up at the trees that shade her apartment. She nodded, and moved back into the apartment building.
I ran for the back of the apartment building. I had to run very close to the heat of the fire. I tried not to look at it, not thinking about what it meant to someone. As I ran, a shoe fell off. I thought about leaving it there. But then I would be running barefoot, so I went back for it.
I banged on the first set of doors. Banged, loud, like the police do. I paced in between the doors, worrying that it was taking the people so long, worrying that the firefighters weren't there yet.
Finally two sleepy heads popped out of the doors.
"There's a fire in the parking lot. You need to move your car if it's parked close."
Eyes opened wide in fear. Each head nodded, and went back inside to pull on clothes.
Suddenly I heard a loud hissing. It was a tire, I realized. The fire had burned thru the rubber. Other things were falling and shattering. Glass fell out of the car.
I ran to more doors, banging and delivering the message. People ran out. One man walked back in. He looked at me.
"Thanks man. Wasn't mine." Such a look of relief on his face.
As the firetruck sped into the parking lot, I ran to the parking lot. Their long hoses sprayed into the inferno. It seemed to have no affect on the blaze.
"My car!" One woman walked over to me. "My lovely little Jetta!"
The car on fire was large, a van probably. I looked trying to figure out what she was saying. Then I realized her car was parked right next to the burning vehicle.
I grabbed her, and we held on to each other, crying. Strangers, but it didn't matter. She sobbed, "My car!" I held her.
Finally she asked me how I had known to wake her up. I explained that I had seen the fire from my window, and come running. She told me thank you. What reason was there to thank me. I had done nothing to save her car.
After that, things are a bit mixed up in my memory. The burning van, with the flames going sky high is seared in my brain. The awful smell of burning rubber, and so many other things. The woman, sagging in my arms as she cried that her car was damaged.
I am so thankful that no one was hurt. No lives were taken in that fire. But two single mothers lost their cars to the fire. One single mother had her car melted on the side. Hard working women, just like me.
Later someone pointed out to me that it was 22 degrees outside, and I ran around in sweats, no gloves for over a half an hour. Adrenalin. Pure Adrenalin. I never felt the cold. All I knew was someone had to do something.
All that was left of the vehicle were the bones. Metal bones of seats, wires were the dashboard once was. It is gone. And the tree above is scorched, blackened. Thank goodness it was greenwood and didn't catch fire.
My room was bathed in orange light. Outside I could hear something. A car pulling out of the parking lot I thought. But the light was moving in the wrong way. I rolled back to the window and peaked open a blind.
It was a fireball. Total fireball. Flames were licking up out of burning vehicle into the trees. The trees framed the apartment building across from mine. And all the apartments faced in such a way that those people couldn't see the fire.
Took me two tries to dial 911. The dispatcher told me that her co-worker was on the phone with someone else about the fire. I hung up the phone and grabbed clothes.
I ran across the street. The elderly couple in the closest apartment was already awake. They were just coming out to their patio from where they could actually see the apartment.
"Do you know who's cars these are?" I shouted at them.
We looked at each other in stunned silence. The wife looked at the vehicles and shook her head.
"I think they belong to people on the back side of the building," the husband finally said.
"Okay, I'll take care of the people on the back. You wake up the people on this side. It looks like it could set the tree on fire."
The wife looked up at the trees that shade her apartment. She nodded, and moved back into the apartment building.
I ran for the back of the apartment building. I had to run very close to the heat of the fire. I tried not to look at it, not thinking about what it meant to someone. As I ran, a shoe fell off. I thought about leaving it there. But then I would be running barefoot, so I went back for it.
I banged on the first set of doors. Banged, loud, like the police do. I paced in between the doors, worrying that it was taking the people so long, worrying that the firefighters weren't there yet.
Finally two sleepy heads popped out of the doors.
"There's a fire in the parking lot. You need to move your car if it's parked close."
Eyes opened wide in fear. Each head nodded, and went back inside to pull on clothes.
Suddenly I heard a loud hissing. It was a tire, I realized. The fire had burned thru the rubber. Other things were falling and shattering. Glass fell out of the car.
I ran to more doors, banging and delivering the message. People ran out. One man walked back in. He looked at me.
"Thanks man. Wasn't mine." Such a look of relief on his face.
As the firetruck sped into the parking lot, I ran to the parking lot. Their long hoses sprayed into the inferno. It seemed to have no affect on the blaze.
"My car!" One woman walked over to me. "My lovely little Jetta!"
The car on fire was large, a van probably. I looked trying to figure out what she was saying. Then I realized her car was parked right next to the burning vehicle.
I grabbed her, and we held on to each other, crying. Strangers, but it didn't matter. She sobbed, "My car!" I held her.
Finally she asked me how I had known to wake her up. I explained that I had seen the fire from my window, and come running. She told me thank you. What reason was there to thank me. I had done nothing to save her car.
After that, things are a bit mixed up in my memory. The burning van, with the flames going sky high is seared in my brain. The awful smell of burning rubber, and so many other things. The woman, sagging in my arms as she cried that her car was damaged.
I am so thankful that no one was hurt. No lives were taken in that fire. But two single mothers lost their cars to the fire. One single mother had her car melted on the side. Hard working women, just like me.
Later someone pointed out to me that it was 22 degrees outside, and I ran around in sweats, no gloves for over a half an hour. Adrenalin. Pure Adrenalin. I never felt the cold. All I knew was someone had to do something.
All that was left of the vehicle were the bones. Metal bones of seats, wires were the dashboard once was. It is gone. And the tree above is scorched, blackened. Thank goodness it was greenwood and didn't catch fire.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Crying over Christmas presents
Tonight I had a melt down. Bawling, heaving sobs, melt down.
My son is a curious little guy. And he's discovered where I stash unwrapped things in my closet. I don't know how, but he's capable of climbing up to the top of my closet in search of the wonderful things hidden there at this time of the year.
Tonight as I was putting the two of them to bed, my daughter discovered that he had left a little something on her pillow. I looked at her in horror, and then she reported that her brother had put it there. I asked him to get me what ever was in his bed. He looked at me with wide-eyed feigned innocence, pleading there was nothing in his bed. This big game we play with Mom to con some toys out of Mom. Well, his sister let the cat out of the bag: "He has the pirate ship in the closet."
I wanted to go thru the roof. The special thing that I knew he would love, bought especially for Christmas, he had it in the closet. I demanded that he get it. Out came the half built pirate ship. He looked slightly sheepish, caught in the act, but not very remorseful. I was totally horrified. I wanted to hit something and cry. The box was ripped open, and the contents half pulled out.
"That's your Christmas present!" I finally said, tears welling up in my eyes. I don't know if it was frustration, or anger. "What am I supposed to put under the tree for you?"
My tears began to flow in earnest. My son looked sick. His face fell. Suddenly what had been a fun game of "stealing" from Mom became something totally different. It was stealing from himself. He looked at it, and looked back at me, realizing exactly what he had stollen. But more importantly, I could see him asking, what will I get for Christmas.
I had him put everything back in the box. I finally left the room, sobbing. What do I do for Christmas? Do I just give up and let him have the toy? Do I wrap it, and put it under the tree? Do I drop it off at Goodwill, and buy something different? I didn't know what to do, and sobbed big gulping sobs myself, confusion and anger welling up inside of me.
My son brought me the box, ripped in half, and all the items. His eyes were bright red with tears. He didn't say anything. His face was totally crushed. After handing me the box he ran back to cry in his room. The sight of Mom's anguish was simply more than he could bear. And yet I knew at the same time he needed my comfort. He needed to know that I still loved him. That we were grieving the loss of our Christmas together. Because that's what was going on. Christmas presents are supposed to be a surprise. They are new toys you have never seen before, and now that had been ruined. So I called him back in. He sat on my lap as we both cried. He snuggled up close, wiping the tears from his face.
Finally he was calm. "Sweetheart, do I need to get a lock for my closet, or will you stay out of it?" I asked. Hey if we are going to have a learning moment, might as well take full advantage of it!
"I'll stay out," he said, eyes red and puffy. I pulled him back close to me.
Later once he was in bed, I taped the box together. I decided that he will get the toy for Christmas. He will see that it really is a Christmas present. He will get the joy of playing with it in the open instead hiding in shame in his closet, sneaking around to play. I will finish this lesson on a good note.
But meanwhile I really want to cry some more.
My son is a curious little guy. And he's discovered where I stash unwrapped things in my closet. I don't know how, but he's capable of climbing up to the top of my closet in search of the wonderful things hidden there at this time of the year.
Tonight as I was putting the two of them to bed, my daughter discovered that he had left a little something on her pillow. I looked at her in horror, and then she reported that her brother had put it there. I asked him to get me what ever was in his bed. He looked at me with wide-eyed feigned innocence, pleading there was nothing in his bed. This big game we play with Mom to con some toys out of Mom. Well, his sister let the cat out of the bag: "He has the pirate ship in the closet."
I wanted to go thru the roof. The special thing that I knew he would love, bought especially for Christmas, he had it in the closet. I demanded that he get it. Out came the half built pirate ship. He looked slightly sheepish, caught in the act, but not very remorseful. I was totally horrified. I wanted to hit something and cry. The box was ripped open, and the contents half pulled out.
"That's your Christmas present!" I finally said, tears welling up in my eyes. I don't know if it was frustration, or anger. "What am I supposed to put under the tree for you?"
My tears began to flow in earnest. My son looked sick. His face fell. Suddenly what had been a fun game of "stealing" from Mom became something totally different. It was stealing from himself. He looked at it, and looked back at me, realizing exactly what he had stollen. But more importantly, I could see him asking, what will I get for Christmas.
I had him put everything back in the box. I finally left the room, sobbing. What do I do for Christmas? Do I just give up and let him have the toy? Do I wrap it, and put it under the tree? Do I drop it off at Goodwill, and buy something different? I didn't know what to do, and sobbed big gulping sobs myself, confusion and anger welling up inside of me.
My son brought me the box, ripped in half, and all the items. His eyes were bright red with tears. He didn't say anything. His face was totally crushed. After handing me the box he ran back to cry in his room. The sight of Mom's anguish was simply more than he could bear. And yet I knew at the same time he needed my comfort. He needed to know that I still loved him. That we were grieving the loss of our Christmas together. Because that's what was going on. Christmas presents are supposed to be a surprise. They are new toys you have never seen before, and now that had been ruined. So I called him back in. He sat on my lap as we both cried. He snuggled up close, wiping the tears from his face.
Finally he was calm. "Sweetheart, do I need to get a lock for my closet, or will you stay out of it?" I asked. Hey if we are going to have a learning moment, might as well take full advantage of it!
"I'll stay out," he said, eyes red and puffy. I pulled him back close to me.
Later once he was in bed, I taped the box together. I decided that he will get the toy for Christmas. He will see that it really is a Christmas present. He will get the joy of playing with it in the open instead hiding in shame in his closet, sneaking around to play. I will finish this lesson on a good note.
But meanwhile I really want to cry some more.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
My son's new pet
See the Long Tail
Originally uploaded by Sunflower Central
Yep, it's a lizard. He actually caught this little guy at my aunt's house. I think it's called a Green Anole. They are native to this area.
I'm not sure if it's going to make it or not. They require alot of specialized care. I don't know if I have the time or energy to put into it like that. Really this guy needs heating lamps, Humidity dusting, crickets that are "gut loaded" and so on. He is part of the Iguana family, and basically needs all the things an iguana would need to live inside.
He's not a hand pet, and never will be. And my son wants him desperately to be. At first the lizard was in the bedroom. But the kids kept taking him out, and letting him run around the bedroom. They were torturing the poor little guy. I put him in the dining room so I can moniture their behavior. I'm not sure at all what I want to do though.
He is a delightful little guy. I found myself sitting at the dining room table just staring at him. He looked at me in mild interest. And then went back to climbing the walls of his cage. They naturally dwell on leaves, shrubs and trees.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
New Christmas tradition
Last night was one of those perfect Christmas memories. We hit the ideal, and it was wonderful.
We had FHE, Family Home Evening. And we watched parts of the movie The Nativity Story. My son curled up on my lap and watched it with me. He really enjoyed it, and seemed to get alot of out it. And plus I enjoyed being curled up against him.
We came home to our house glowing in Christmas lights. The kids begged me to read them The Night Before Christmas. I agreed to once they were changed into pj's. Quickly they got changed, and raced back into the front room. We turned off the house lights, and read by the lights of the tree. I don't think the kids had heard the whole poem before, and they really enjoyed it.
My daughter was not in the mood to go to bed yet, and begged me to sing Christmas songs. We sang a few Christmas carols, and secular songs. Their faces glowed with happiness in the multi-colored Christmas lights. It was a happy little moment, that I can tell they will beg me to repeat. I think we've made a new Christmas tradition, read stories, and sing songs by the light of the Christmas tree!
We had FHE, Family Home Evening. And we watched parts of the movie The Nativity Story. My son curled up on my lap and watched it with me. He really enjoyed it, and seemed to get alot of out it. And plus I enjoyed being curled up against him.
We came home to our house glowing in Christmas lights. The kids begged me to read them The Night Before Christmas. I agreed to once they were changed into pj's. Quickly they got changed, and raced back into the front room. We turned off the house lights, and read by the lights of the tree. I don't think the kids had heard the whole poem before, and they really enjoyed it.
My daughter was not in the mood to go to bed yet, and begged me to sing Christmas songs. We sang a few Christmas carols, and secular songs. Their faces glowed with happiness in the multi-colored Christmas lights. It was a happy little moment, that I can tell they will beg me to repeat. I think we've made a new Christmas tradition, read stories, and sing songs by the light of the Christmas tree!
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Stressing out here
I think everything hit the fan yesterday. And having come off my medicine cold turkey made it work. Since I was on an addictive anti-anxiety med I'm left with withdrawal symptoms. I feel head achy, dizzy and out of touch, like my head is floating somewhere above me.
The first thing that happened is my babysitter told me she is quitting. She's a stay at home Mom who home schools her own girls, and has a ton of stuff on her plate. I've always been stunned by the number of things she is doing. Well, I guess it just got to be too much and she's had to cut back somewhere. Can't blame her there, I know that feeling.
But it sure does make life hard on me. I have to find a new babysitter. And I think I have to find one by Monday. (I wasn't paying half enough attention to the details when she talked to me. I was simply too stunned to keep track of everything she was saying.) My parents arrive in a week to spend the month of December, so that may keep my head above water. Anyway, it's really stressful, and big involved thing to find another babysitter.
I came home with my head spinning, dizzy and out of touch. And the light in the kids room has gone out. It's complicated, but the solution will be finding a new lamp, probably a swag lamp. I ran up to Lowe's. No swag lamps there. The guy tried to sell me something else. By the end I was holding a florescent light while my kids ran circles around the store, and my head spun in the opposite direction.
Finally I left the store without a lamp for the kids room. My head was spinning and pounding. My stomach joined the circus act, clamping down. Without light in their room, the kids ran around the front room, and my room the whole evening. I tried to do some Internet searches, but the screaming, yelling and other kid junk made it impossible.
To make matters worse, my bathroom toilet overflowed last night.
I'm pretty worried about finding a child care solution for the kids. I've got a ton of feelers out. I'm not sure what I'm doing about the light in the kids room.
The first thing that happened is my babysitter told me she is quitting. She's a stay at home Mom who home schools her own girls, and has a ton of stuff on her plate. I've always been stunned by the number of things she is doing. Well, I guess it just got to be too much and she's had to cut back somewhere. Can't blame her there, I know that feeling.
But it sure does make life hard on me. I have to find a new babysitter. And I think I have to find one by Monday. (I wasn't paying half enough attention to the details when she talked to me. I was simply too stunned to keep track of everything she was saying.) My parents arrive in a week to spend the month of December, so that may keep my head above water. Anyway, it's really stressful, and big involved thing to find another babysitter.
I came home with my head spinning, dizzy and out of touch. And the light in the kids room has gone out. It's complicated, but the solution will be finding a new lamp, probably a swag lamp. I ran up to Lowe's. No swag lamps there. The guy tried to sell me something else. By the end I was holding a florescent light while my kids ran circles around the store, and my head spun in the opposite direction.
Finally I left the store without a lamp for the kids room. My head was spinning and pounding. My stomach joined the circus act, clamping down. Without light in their room, the kids ran around the front room, and my room the whole evening. I tried to do some Internet searches, but the screaming, yelling and other kid junk made it impossible.
To make matters worse, my bathroom toilet overflowed last night.
I'm pretty worried about finding a child care solution for the kids. I've got a ton of feelers out. I'm not sure what I'm doing about the light in the kids room.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Grandpa Charles
My grandfather is dying. He doesn't look like it. He's up walking around, going to check the mail, helping out at the house, and all the usual stuff. But one of the heart valves has basically quit working. They've got him on medicine to help. At the most he has a year.
Last year it was my grandmother who died. She had Alzheimer's. In some ways we were actually relieved when she passed.
Grandpa Charles is 90 years old. He worked hard, and has been retired for all of my life. They owned a farm for years. Think Gentleman farmer here. He had a wonderful garden which he enjoyed. There were sheep out in the pasture. And my grandparents ran the Senior Center in their small town. My grandfather helped the elderly manage their finances, run computers, and so much more.
It is so hard for me to accept that I have probably seen him for the last time. He walked over to check the mail with my two kids jumping and skipping behind him. I watched him restock the squirrel feeder outside their front window.
I am so glad that we could spend this week-end with them. My children are the only great-grand children. They got to see their Great-Grandparents happy, busy and doing normal things. It's not like Ganny last year, in the hospital, hardly even able to speak.
In some ways it's worse.
Last year it was my grandmother who died. She had Alzheimer's. In some ways we were actually relieved when she passed.
Grandpa Charles is 90 years old. He worked hard, and has been retired for all of my life. They owned a farm for years. Think Gentleman farmer here. He had a wonderful garden which he enjoyed. There were sheep out in the pasture. And my grandparents ran the Senior Center in their small town. My grandfather helped the elderly manage their finances, run computers, and so much more.
It is so hard for me to accept that I have probably seen him for the last time. He walked over to check the mail with my two kids jumping and skipping behind him. I watched him restock the squirrel feeder outside their front window.
I am so glad that we could spend this week-end with them. My children are the only great-grand children. They got to see their Great-Grandparents happy, busy and doing normal things. It's not like Ganny last year, in the hospital, hardly even able to speak.
In some ways it's worse.
Thanksgiving
This year we went out to Oregon for Thanksgiving. My grandparents were celebrating their 60th Wedding anniversary on Sunday. Just so happened that the cheapest flight had us leaving Thanksgiving morning, arriving at 12 noon! Happy coincidence, and plus that way I wouldn't have to worry about Thanksgiving dinner.
Well, we got out to the airport on time for our 8:45am flight. The boarding area quietly filled up with other people who made this choice. It was a peaceful morning compared to the chaos of the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. My kids watched as our plane pulled up to the gate and preparations began for us to leave.
That was when things hit the fan. Our flight went on mechanical delay. Immediately the flight schedules flashed thru my head. Being a travel agent, I had checked my own flights in depth. This flight to Salem, OR was only one of two flights per day. If I missed my connection that was it. I checked in at the counter to ask if my assumption was correct. The gate agent pulled up flights and gave me a sad nod of the head. Yep, if the delay lasted too long I was going to be spending the night in Salt Lake City instead of eating Grandma's turkey with my relatives.
I used to work for Delta, as a ticket agent at the Airport. I know to plan for the worst case scenario, so this was something I had thought of. I considered calling my grandparents, but the time change put it at 6:45 am. My son pressed his nose against the window staring at the plane.
"Are we going to get on this one, Mommy?"
"I don't know, baby."
Finally they said it. The engine had a mechanical issue. They needed to replace a certain part. The part was not available at the Dallas hanger, but would have to be flown in. Translation, flight is leaving at 3pm, and we are so dead. Mad rush for the ticket counter. I was the third one in line, and ended up waiting over half an hour.
As I waited I called my grandparents. And then my phone rang, Delta calling me to say that the plane was delayed. Well, obviously I already knew that. I listened to people in front of me frantically try to get re booked on an American Airlines flight. Working out there over 10 years ago left me kind of averse to that plan. American can be stinkers about taking tickets. And then there are the problems with the bags.
I got re booked on a later flight. And Delta agreed to put me up in Salt Lake City for the night. Lots of vouchers were issued to pay for meals.
Now our only problem was that we had a three hour wait till the next flight. Fortunately I found the kids play area. The kids enjoyed that for 2 hours. We grabbed some lunch, and made our flight to Salt Lake City.
No problem getting a hotel there. Our bags also arrived with us. (Doubt that would have happened if we had switched airlines.) And we found ourselves checked into the Comfort Suites for the night. Since we were one of 3 people in the hotel, the manager gave the kids the okay to swim in their shorts. They splashed and ran themselves crazy. After a long day of being trapped in spaces, it was precisely what they needed.
Our next problem was dinner. Many of the places that would normally take our vouchers were closed for Thanksgiving. Our choices were to go back out to the Airport and eat there, go next door and pay $30 in addition to our vouchers for Thanksgiving dinner, or go to Denny's and pay for dinner ourselves. We ended up going to Denny's. Proverbial Thanksgiving at Denny's!
So that was my Thanksgiving, delivered by a very nice fresh faced college student who did magic tricks for my kids. Not what I expected, but I will admit that it was a very calm and relaxed day! For a Holiday that normally stresses the female members of our society, I did quite well. Didn't spend too much money, got to spend the night in a hotel, on someone else's nickle. It wasn't too bad, all things considered. And my kids really did enjoy themselves!
Well, we got out to the airport on time for our 8:45am flight. The boarding area quietly filled up with other people who made this choice. It was a peaceful morning compared to the chaos of the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. My kids watched as our plane pulled up to the gate and preparations began for us to leave.
That was when things hit the fan. Our flight went on mechanical delay. Immediately the flight schedules flashed thru my head. Being a travel agent, I had checked my own flights in depth. This flight to Salem, OR was only one of two flights per day. If I missed my connection that was it. I checked in at the counter to ask if my assumption was correct. The gate agent pulled up flights and gave me a sad nod of the head. Yep, if the delay lasted too long I was going to be spending the night in Salt Lake City instead of eating Grandma's turkey with my relatives.
I used to work for Delta, as a ticket agent at the Airport. I know to plan for the worst case scenario, so this was something I had thought of. I considered calling my grandparents, but the time change put it at 6:45 am. My son pressed his nose against the window staring at the plane.
"Are we going to get on this one, Mommy?"
"I don't know, baby."
Finally they said it. The engine had a mechanical issue. They needed to replace a certain part. The part was not available at the Dallas hanger, but would have to be flown in. Translation, flight is leaving at 3pm, and we are so dead. Mad rush for the ticket counter. I was the third one in line, and ended up waiting over half an hour.
As I waited I called my grandparents. And then my phone rang, Delta calling me to say that the plane was delayed. Well, obviously I already knew that. I listened to people in front of me frantically try to get re booked on an American Airlines flight. Working out there over 10 years ago left me kind of averse to that plan. American can be stinkers about taking tickets. And then there are the problems with the bags.
I got re booked on a later flight. And Delta agreed to put me up in Salt Lake City for the night. Lots of vouchers were issued to pay for meals.
Now our only problem was that we had a three hour wait till the next flight. Fortunately I found the kids play area. The kids enjoyed that for 2 hours. We grabbed some lunch, and made our flight to Salt Lake City.
No problem getting a hotel there. Our bags also arrived with us. (Doubt that would have happened if we had switched airlines.) And we found ourselves checked into the Comfort Suites for the night. Since we were one of 3 people in the hotel, the manager gave the kids the okay to swim in their shorts. They splashed and ran themselves crazy. After a long day of being trapped in spaces, it was precisely what they needed.
Our next problem was dinner. Many of the places that would normally take our vouchers were closed for Thanksgiving. Our choices were to go back out to the Airport and eat there, go next door and pay $30 in addition to our vouchers for Thanksgiving dinner, or go to Denny's and pay for dinner ourselves. We ended up going to Denny's. Proverbial Thanksgiving at Denny's!
So that was my Thanksgiving, delivered by a very nice fresh faced college student who did magic tricks for my kids. Not what I expected, but I will admit that it was a very calm and relaxed day! For a Holiday that normally stresses the female members of our society, I did quite well. Didn't spend too much money, got to spend the night in a hotel, on someone else's nickle. It wasn't too bad, all things considered. And my kids really did enjoy themselves!
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Jesus
Monday night was our weekly FHE group. (Family Home Evening) Think Sunday school, except in the home, with the parents teaching the lesson. Great idea, and it's a cultural thing in our church. So single people tend to form FHE groups because you can't give a lesson to just yourself, that's personal scripture study. And me, as a single Mom, I do NOT have time to plan and do a lesson with the kids each week. Instead we show up.
This week we watched a video showing passion week. My son curled up on my lap to watch with me. We've read our Bible stories together before, but there was something different about seeing it on a video. This was live action, not cartoon. My son tipped his head close to mine, and I whispered explanations in his ear.
"See how Jesus is breaking the bread, and passing it? Jesus is showing them the sacrament."
I nearly wept for him to witness Jesus being whipped. I could feel his body tighten. I explained the crown of thorns, and he scrunched down as if to get away from the thorns on his head. I whispered reminders of how Jesus took our sins upon him to break the bounds of sin and death.
We watched Jesus come up to Golgotha. Sorrow filled my being as I knew what was to come. I know Jesus's death was vital to my salvation. It was a gift given in love to me, something that I should rejoice in. But I feel such deep sorrow that he did have to die.
A sharp gasp came from my son as they put the nails in his hands. His eyes widen to realize exactly what had happened. Yes, Jesus went thru that for you and me. I held him close.
....................................................................................
That evening my son's bedtime prayers were influenced by the video. He thanked our Heavenly Father for Jesus and the sacrifice on the cross. I could hear the depth of conviction in his voice. There was sorrow, and awe that someone would really go thru that. It was a heartfelt prayer of thanks for the gift of salvation that was bought with Christ's blood.
And my heart sang to see my young child grow in his personal relationship with his Savior.
This week we watched a video showing passion week. My son curled up on my lap to watch with me. We've read our Bible stories together before, but there was something different about seeing it on a video. This was live action, not cartoon. My son tipped his head close to mine, and I whispered explanations in his ear.
"See how Jesus is breaking the bread, and passing it? Jesus is showing them the sacrament."
I nearly wept for him to witness Jesus being whipped. I could feel his body tighten. I explained the crown of thorns, and he scrunched down as if to get away from the thorns on his head. I whispered reminders of how Jesus took our sins upon him to break the bounds of sin and death.
We watched Jesus come up to Golgotha. Sorrow filled my being as I knew what was to come. I know Jesus's death was vital to my salvation. It was a gift given in love to me, something that I should rejoice in. But I feel such deep sorrow that he did have to die.
A sharp gasp came from my son as they put the nails in his hands. His eyes widen to realize exactly what had happened. Yes, Jesus went thru that for you and me. I held him close.
....................................................................................
That evening my son's bedtime prayers were influenced by the video. He thanked our Heavenly Father for Jesus and the sacrifice on the cross. I could hear the depth of conviction in his voice. There was sorrow, and awe that someone would really go thru that. It was a heartfelt prayer of thanks for the gift of salvation that was bought with Christ's blood.
And my heart sang to see my young child grow in his personal relationship with his Savior.
Monday, November 12, 2007
The ex
A friend of mine was gossipping yesterday. For some reason she had heard alot about my ex lately. He's gone off the deep end. He's become very controlling.
His new wife states that she has almost no privacy. They work at the same place. When either one of them is off work, he insists that they be together. When church people come over to visit her, he has to be in the same room to hear what they are telling her.
And even worse, I finally know why he refuses to pick up my son for visitation. He's mad at me that the divorce/visitation didn't go his way. He blames me for a long string of things. He talks about the fact that he wasn't allowed to adopt my son. My son coming to visit is the only thing that is left that he can control. Basically he rationalizes his refusal saying that if I had wanted him to be my ex's father, I would have let him adopt him. It's a very convoluted logic.
I have always said that when I married him he was slightly off, but nothing terrible. Over the course of our marriage things went down hill. He became less and less able to cope with social situations. His understanding of mores of behavior diminished. In the conversation I had yesterday I found out exactly how true that was. My friend, who knew him during our marriage, confirmed, yes, he's loosing it. He's going crazy and driving his new wife crazy with him. He's unstable, and has lost touch with reality.
His new wife states that she has almost no privacy. They work at the same place. When either one of them is off work, he insists that they be together. When church people come over to visit her, he has to be in the same room to hear what they are telling her.
And even worse, I finally know why he refuses to pick up my son for visitation. He's mad at me that the divorce/visitation didn't go his way. He blames me for a long string of things. He talks about the fact that he wasn't allowed to adopt my son. My son coming to visit is the only thing that is left that he can control. Basically he rationalizes his refusal saying that if I had wanted him to be my ex's father, I would have let him adopt him. It's a very convoluted logic.
I have always said that when I married him he was slightly off, but nothing terrible. Over the course of our marriage things went down hill. He became less and less able to cope with social situations. His understanding of mores of behavior diminished. In the conversation I had yesterday I found out exactly how true that was. My friend, who knew him during our marriage, confirmed, yes, he's loosing it. He's going crazy and driving his new wife crazy with him. He's unstable, and has lost touch with reality.
Why did Daddy leave?
"Mommy, you don't love Daddy any more, do you?" my son asked me as we ate lunch.
"No, I don't." It was a sad statement of a fact. The children still love their father, but I don't. Divorce is a sad, hard reality.
"Mommy, why did you and Daddy divorce?" my talkative little girl asked. "Daddy says it's because you didn't treat Aaron and Aubry good."
Yes, the step-kids were always a point of dissension for us. When we got married neither one of them lived with us. And it appeared that they would always live with their mother. They came for holidays, and that was okay. It was tons of work for me because my ex wasn't an involved parent. I didn't know what the kids wanted to eat until I had already set it before them, and my ex yelled at me for expecting them to eat that.
Later each of them came to live with us. My step son, Aaron was the first. He was a very loving, gentle child of 5 who constantly wet his pants. He was distraught that his mother allowed him to live with his father.
"Give him chores," was the order from my ex. "Make him do the vacuuming, it's an easy chore and he can do it."
So suddenly I was the task master of a strange child. I had to oversee Aaron getting his chores done. It was a year long struggle before we both learned how to do this. During that time there were some awful arguments. I had no clue how to motivate a 5 year old child, and my ex grew increasingly frustrated with my inability to complete a relatively easy task.
But after a year, things evened out. I began to know this child, and truly love him. He was a sweet kid, with a very easy disposition. He joked and laughed, and was a lot of fun to be around. Chores were still hard on both of us.
And then suddenly it was decided that since I did such a good job with Aaron, I should have at Aubry for a while. Aubry was 9 when she came to live with us. She back talked, and drove her mother insane. Homework was a struggle, and basic tasks were impossible. Since I did such a great job getting her brother under control, and making the wetting accidents disappear, maybe I could turn this mouthy, moody kid into the delight her brother had become.
She moved into my house angry. Angry at her mother for giving up on her. Angry at me for supposedly being the solution to her problems. Angry at her father for divorcing her mom. She was dead set to prove I was not the miracle worker. And boy did she prove it! I thinks she ran away 2 times, and once we called the police to help find her.
I had no clue what to do with a distraught 9 year old. What do you do when a child starts throwing things at you. My ex said, make her do the vacuuming, her brother did it good. Instead she tore the bedroom apart, throwing clothes everywhere, flipping a bed over, and ripping up sheets.
Needless to say, my ex couldn't understand how it happened. He blamed me for everything.
So, Daddy has told my two that the reason we got a divorce was because I couldn't treat Aaron and Aubry right.
"Sweetheart, it's true," I said in a soft voice. "Mommy didn't know what Aaron and Aubry liked. I didn't know Aaron didn't like yogurt, and I tried to serve him yogurt."
Both of my kids looked at their food.
"Aaron doesn't like yogurt?" one of them asked.
"Nope! And I tried to give him yogurt. Daddy didn't tell me that Aaron didn't like yogurt. I didn't know, so I did it wrong."
Each kid looked at their plate, thinking about this. So Mommy was admitting she did wrong. Daddy told the truth. But Mommy wasn't a bad Mommy, I could see the look of relief on their faces.
"And Aubry was like you, sweet heart, she didn't like to get up in the morning, and doesn't want breakfast. I tried to get her up, and it made her angry. But Daddy didn't tell me, so I tried to get her up. If I had known, it would have done it differently."
I could see each kid nod to themselves. And then they each perked up. They had the answer they needed and could feel at peace about it.
Later as I thought about it, I realized I had said the most perfect thing. I didn't contradict Daddy. I didn't force my kids to choose between which version of the story they wanted to believe. Instead I stuck to one story, and wove the truth back into it. I didn't make one parent the hero, but instead spread the blame on both of us. And I told them the truth in a way that made perfect sense to them. They each know what it's like to be served food they don't like, to have their routines interrupted.
As the conversation ended I could see each kid brighten. There was a peace, and joy to them. I thank my Heavenly Father for such amazing, inspired words that came out of my mouth.
"No, I don't." It was a sad statement of a fact. The children still love their father, but I don't. Divorce is a sad, hard reality.
"Mommy, why did you and Daddy divorce?" my talkative little girl asked. "Daddy says it's because you didn't treat Aaron and Aubry good."
Yes, the step-kids were always a point of dissension for us. When we got married neither one of them lived with us. And it appeared that they would always live with their mother. They came for holidays, and that was okay. It was tons of work for me because my ex wasn't an involved parent. I didn't know what the kids wanted to eat until I had already set it before them, and my ex yelled at me for expecting them to eat that.
Later each of them came to live with us. My step son, Aaron was the first. He was a very loving, gentle child of 5 who constantly wet his pants. He was distraught that his mother allowed him to live with his father.
"Give him chores," was the order from my ex. "Make him do the vacuuming, it's an easy chore and he can do it."
So suddenly I was the task master of a strange child. I had to oversee Aaron getting his chores done. It was a year long struggle before we both learned how to do this. During that time there were some awful arguments. I had no clue how to motivate a 5 year old child, and my ex grew increasingly frustrated with my inability to complete a relatively easy task.
But after a year, things evened out. I began to know this child, and truly love him. He was a sweet kid, with a very easy disposition. He joked and laughed, and was a lot of fun to be around. Chores were still hard on both of us.
And then suddenly it was decided that since I did such a good job with Aaron, I should have at Aubry for a while. Aubry was 9 when she came to live with us. She back talked, and drove her mother insane. Homework was a struggle, and basic tasks were impossible. Since I did such a great job getting her brother under control, and making the wetting accidents disappear, maybe I could turn this mouthy, moody kid into the delight her brother had become.
She moved into my house angry. Angry at her mother for giving up on her. Angry at me for supposedly being the solution to her problems. Angry at her father for divorcing her mom. She was dead set to prove I was not the miracle worker. And boy did she prove it! I thinks she ran away 2 times, and once we called the police to help find her.
I had no clue what to do with a distraught 9 year old. What do you do when a child starts throwing things at you. My ex said, make her do the vacuuming, her brother did it good. Instead she tore the bedroom apart, throwing clothes everywhere, flipping a bed over, and ripping up sheets.
Needless to say, my ex couldn't understand how it happened. He blamed me for everything.
So, Daddy has told my two that the reason we got a divorce was because I couldn't treat Aaron and Aubry right.
"Sweetheart, it's true," I said in a soft voice. "Mommy didn't know what Aaron and Aubry liked. I didn't know Aaron didn't like yogurt, and I tried to serve him yogurt."
Both of my kids looked at their food.
"Aaron doesn't like yogurt?" one of them asked.
"Nope! And I tried to give him yogurt. Daddy didn't tell me that Aaron didn't like yogurt. I didn't know, so I did it wrong."
Each kid looked at their plate, thinking about this. So Mommy was admitting she did wrong. Daddy told the truth. But Mommy wasn't a bad Mommy, I could see the look of relief on their faces.
"And Aubry was like you, sweet heart, she didn't like to get up in the morning, and doesn't want breakfast. I tried to get her up, and it made her angry. But Daddy didn't tell me, so I tried to get her up. If I had known, it would have done it differently."
I could see each kid nod to themselves. And then they each perked up. They had the answer they needed and could feel at peace about it.
Later as I thought about it, I realized I had said the most perfect thing. I didn't contradict Daddy. I didn't force my kids to choose between which version of the story they wanted to believe. Instead I stuck to one story, and wove the truth back into it. I didn't make one parent the hero, but instead spread the blame on both of us. And I told them the truth in a way that made perfect sense to them. They each know what it's like to be served food they don't like, to have their routines interrupted.
As the conversation ended I could see each kid brighten. There was a peace, and joy to them. I thank my Heavenly Father for such amazing, inspired words that came out of my mouth.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Peptobismal Princess
My daughter is quite a fashionista. Being that she's six years old that means her ideas of what goes together are very skewed. If it's bright and colorful, she wants to wear it all. I do mention to her when things clash. Half the time she'll go change, but other days she'll choose to wear the atrocious outfit.
Today she came out wearing some pink Capri jeans with a pink sweat shirt. I kind of stopped to look at her. As she climbed into her chair at the table she declared, it all matches! I nodded, sighing to myself. Yep, it all matched!
As she got out of the car with her pink backpack I was impressed. And it wasn't a good impression. Wow, it's all peptobismal pink!
Today she came out wearing some pink Capri jeans with a pink sweat shirt. I kind of stopped to look at her. As she climbed into her chair at the table she declared, it all matches! I nodded, sighing to myself. Yep, it all matched!
As she got out of the car with her pink backpack I was impressed. And it wasn't a good impression. Wow, it's all peptobismal pink!
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Peace
For the last 11 months I've been on anti-anxiety meds. When my divorce was stalled, it really sent me over the edge. I began having panic attacks. One night I sat in my bedroom simply hyperventilating as the kids tore the house apart around me. There was simply too much I felt I needed to do. I couldn't do it all. And the fact that I was trapped in this limbo state called separation made the stresses of single motherhood ten times worse.
Anti-anxiety medicine made a huge difference. I calmed down, and got my life going again. Instead of being stressed out, I was productive for the first time in about 6 years. With my ex-husband I was always on edge, wondering what was going to set him off. I never was allowed to relax. Until the medicine got in me, I didn't realize how long I had been going like this. Once my mind was allowed to calm down it dawned on me that my life had been running in panic mode during the majority of my marriage.
The medicine allowed me to revisit old neural pathways, to find my non-panicked ways of dealing with life. It shut down a freeway that had been running in my brain, one that was creating a huge traffic jam. The detours were found. And I built new ways of dealing with life.
When the divorce happened I asked my doctor about coming off the medicine. The biggest stressor was gone, and so I wanted to be free of this addictive medicine. But the doctor said no, he would like me to stay on it for longer, just to insure that I really have healed. In September though I began to notice that my ability to deal with normal stressor had seriously diminished. At one point I even felt myself beginning to panic. I could feel the physical sensations, like I had gotten myself back on that tortured freeway.
I reduced my dose. My doctor would have a cow if he found out. But anyone familiar with the history of digitalis knows that sometimes the more effective dose is the smaller dose.
And the difference has been astounding. Peace. I have peace. There are clean clothes all over my front room, my children's bedroom looks like a tornado hit it. I am at rest. I am not stressed out. It's a miracle. Daily I am finding new and better ways to deal with the kids.
We have a camping trip this week-end. What with Halloween, I haven't talked alot about it. And I haven't stressed myself to the end of my rope either. We might make it up there for Friday and Saturday night, or we might make only one night. It doesn't matter. I'm not pressuring myself to do everything. I'm accepting what I'm capable of, and coming to terms with who I am.
Not always succeeding, mind you. Don't talk to me about Thanksgiving and going to Oregon, that's still on the stress fest bus.
Peace, my peace I leave with you, not as world knows peace. Jesus's words are becoming more true in my life. I've noticed that my prayers with the children are gaining more soul. I've given the sacrifice of prayer, praying with them when I didn't want to. And now I'm reaping the rewards. My kids listen to me pray as my spirit rejoices in this new gift, peace.
Anti-anxiety medicine made a huge difference. I calmed down, and got my life going again. Instead of being stressed out, I was productive for the first time in about 6 years. With my ex-husband I was always on edge, wondering what was going to set him off. I never was allowed to relax. Until the medicine got in me, I didn't realize how long I had been going like this. Once my mind was allowed to calm down it dawned on me that my life had been running in panic mode during the majority of my marriage.
The medicine allowed me to revisit old neural pathways, to find my non-panicked ways of dealing with life. It shut down a freeway that had been running in my brain, one that was creating a huge traffic jam. The detours were found. And I built new ways of dealing with life.
When the divorce happened I asked my doctor about coming off the medicine. The biggest stressor was gone, and so I wanted to be free of this addictive medicine. But the doctor said no, he would like me to stay on it for longer, just to insure that I really have healed. In September though I began to notice that my ability to deal with normal stressor had seriously diminished. At one point I even felt myself beginning to panic. I could feel the physical sensations, like I had gotten myself back on that tortured freeway.
I reduced my dose. My doctor would have a cow if he found out. But anyone familiar with the history of digitalis knows that sometimes the more effective dose is the smaller dose.
And the difference has been astounding. Peace. I have peace. There are clean clothes all over my front room, my children's bedroom looks like a tornado hit it. I am at rest. I am not stressed out. It's a miracle. Daily I am finding new and better ways to deal with the kids.
We have a camping trip this week-end. What with Halloween, I haven't talked alot about it. And I haven't stressed myself to the end of my rope either. We might make it up there for Friday and Saturday night, or we might make only one night. It doesn't matter. I'm not pressuring myself to do everything. I'm accepting what I'm capable of, and coming to terms with who I am.
Not always succeeding, mind you. Don't talk to me about Thanksgiving and going to Oregon, that's still on the stress fest bus.
Peace, my peace I leave with you, not as world knows peace. Jesus's words are becoming more true in my life. I've noticed that my prayers with the children are gaining more soul. I've given the sacrifice of prayer, praying with them when I didn't want to. And now I'm reaping the rewards. My kids listen to me pray as my spirit rejoices in this new gift, peace.
ARGH!! Halloween!
Canibal pumpkin
Originally uploaded by Sunflower Central
I think this pictures captures the spirit of this Halloween the best. If you click on it you will be directed to my photo stream, and you can see our many other pictures.
We were the Pirate family this year, and had a total blast with it! Swords raised, the kids went screaming, demanding candy. Our pumpkins were even gruesome. I actually carved three though you won't see the last one. There is Mr. Worm head, who got high points from local kids for gross out value. Also grossed out my co-workers when he went to work with me. The Cannibal pumpkin seems to be a favorite with adults. I wish I had taken a few shots of him lit up because he was simply amazing glowing with the flickering candle. And then there was the gourd attacked one. It has bumpy gourds sticking out it, kind of like weird colored pustules. Really strange!
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Responsibility
I came home to a message on my answering machine. "Hello, this is your daughter's teacher. I'm calling you because she hasn't turned in her field trip money, or her permission slip. I would really like her to be able to go on the field trip."
Visions of my child with a $5 bill clutched in her hand flash thru my head. I know she had both the items at one point.
"What happened to the money, and the permission slip?" I ask her.
"I don't know," the normally talkative child shrugs her shoulders.
It's a trip to the zoo! Does she have any clue how much fun it would be? No, of course she doesn't. She's six years old. Her colorful scarf, and her stuffed dinosaur are the most important things in her world. Right now she's worried that her brother is going to go pick up the plastic lizard she was playing with. A $5 bill is Mom's worry, not her.
This morning I ran into talk to the teacher for a minute.
"Can she live with the consequences?" I ask. "Is there something in place if she doesn't turn it in?" The teacher nods. She and I have discussed my daughter's lack of maturity. As much as she can, she refuses to take responsibility. She is a brilliant kid, but she doesn't act her age. She is easily the smartest kid in class, but her grades don't always show it.
The teacher promised to force my daughter to go thru her desk and back pack.
I feel like crying because I know she's not going to get to go. But it's better that she learn now then later with bigger items. I feel so terrible.
Visions of my child with a $5 bill clutched in her hand flash thru my head. I know she had both the items at one point.
"What happened to the money, and the permission slip?" I ask her.
"I don't know," the normally talkative child shrugs her shoulders.
It's a trip to the zoo! Does she have any clue how much fun it would be? No, of course she doesn't. She's six years old. Her colorful scarf, and her stuffed dinosaur are the most important things in her world. Right now she's worried that her brother is going to go pick up the plastic lizard she was playing with. A $5 bill is Mom's worry, not her.
This morning I ran into talk to the teacher for a minute.
"Can she live with the consequences?" I ask. "Is there something in place if she doesn't turn it in?" The teacher nods. She and I have discussed my daughter's lack of maturity. As much as she can, she refuses to take responsibility. She is a brilliant kid, but she doesn't act her age. She is easily the smartest kid in class, but her grades don't always show it.
The teacher promised to force my daughter to go thru her desk and back pack.
I feel like crying because I know she's not going to get to go. But it's better that she learn now then later with bigger items. I feel so terrible.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Bad things do happen the first time
The first time a cop catches you speeding, he gives you a ticket. Doesn't matter how much you cry. The first time you try drugs you might die from an overdose. Or as a friend of mine learned, the first time you accidentally switch needles, you may get turn up HIV positive.
But kids are programmed to think they can get away with something at least twice. I'm warning you, stop jumping on that couch. What did I already say? Okay that's it, ten cents! I even do it.
But tonight my son had to pay for a first infraction. I walked into my bathroom to find my box of essential oils on the ground. The box showed signs of being rolled on the ground, and my numerous little bottles were in disarray within the box. On opening the box I quickly realize an oil had spilled. Then I found the tiny crushed bottle. It was a total waste, the glass bottom crushed in, probably from being rolled around. And this is a favorite oil, one I use often. I was sickened. Total waste of something I love dearly The normal delicate aroma was sticky sweet.
I explained to my son that he would have to pay to replace this item. I looked up the cost online, about $12. We agreed that the amount would be paid by Saturday breakfast. He knows the drill. If it's not paid breakfast will wait for him until he gets it done. I bet it will take about 2 hours for him to earn the money.
He might get into it again. But for the moment he's working on folding the mini-blinds.
But kids are programmed to think they can get away with something at least twice. I'm warning you, stop jumping on that couch. What did I already say? Okay that's it, ten cents! I even do it.
But tonight my son had to pay for a first infraction. I walked into my bathroom to find my box of essential oils on the ground. The box showed signs of being rolled on the ground, and my numerous little bottles were in disarray within the box. On opening the box I quickly realize an oil had spilled. Then I found the tiny crushed bottle. It was a total waste, the glass bottom crushed in, probably from being rolled around. And this is a favorite oil, one I use often. I was sickened. Total waste of something I love dearly The normal delicate aroma was sticky sweet.
I explained to my son that he would have to pay to replace this item. I looked up the cost online, about $12. We agreed that the amount would be paid by Saturday breakfast. He knows the drill. If it's not paid breakfast will wait for him until he gets it done. I bet it will take about 2 hours for him to earn the money.
He might get into it again. But for the moment he's working on folding the mini-blinds.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Three bags full
Ba-ba black sheep have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.
Well, it wasn't quite wool in our house. It wasn't even close to wool now that I think about it. It was three bags of clothes, toys and various odds and ends out of the kids bedroom.
Their room has been overwhelming them. Somehow all the clothes and toys had gotten to be more than they could handle. They didn't have room for all of it, and were unwilling to get rid of any of it. So instead, I did it for them. On Saturday I went in while they were playing outside. That day I simply picked up trash off the floor. The box they'd been playing with, a paper covered in stickers, and other precious artifacts off the floor.
My daughter came in while I was doing it. She immediately started to cry and screamed for the stuff in the trash bag. In a very soft and understanding voice I told her, "Sure, name the item and I'll pull it straight out for you."
She stomped her foot and said she needed to look thru the bag. I gave a sad shake of my head, and asked her what did I already say. She knew she had lost the argument. I marched the bag out to the dumpster.
On the way home from the baby sitter's today I told the kids that their room had to be cleaned today. I explained, I'll be happy to help once I have the laundry done. I also explained to them that things I picked up would go to Goodwill.
Once we were home I had to bite my tongue a few times. I wanted to bad to remind them. But they have to learn to listen, and apply what is said. Instead I got the huge pile of laundry folded. In small manageable stacks I hand the kids their clothing to put away.
Needless to say, not all the clean clothes made it in to the drawers. My son was the main offender. He lost a few items to the Goodwill bags. Tons of toys went into the bulging white bags. And who knows what else, I really didn't pay much attention. I did make sure to put the towels into the wash; those are mine.
On the way to Goodwill I found myself very upset. Three garbage bags full of stuff! Three big bulging bags! I kept thinking about all the money I've spent on their clothes, and toys. And yet the mess in their room has been stressing me out. It's like a vile creepy stench that has been putting us all on edge. We all felt frustrated by the mess. I feel so terrible. All that money that I wasted. Really, it wasn't that much, but I'm not happy. I've got to learn to be a better steward of the money I've been given. I can't waste it on needless things that stress us out.
I made a decision, the kids each get two pairs of shoes, and that's enough. Anything beyond that spells trouble. They have too much to put away, and too many choices. One every day pair, and one church pair and we're good. This week-end I will clean out their drawers and get them back down to seven items in each category, seven shirts, seven pants, etc. I'll help them, and help me, and be a good steward of the blessings we have.
Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.
Well, it wasn't quite wool in our house. It wasn't even close to wool now that I think about it. It was three bags of clothes, toys and various odds and ends out of the kids bedroom.
Their room has been overwhelming them. Somehow all the clothes and toys had gotten to be more than they could handle. They didn't have room for all of it, and were unwilling to get rid of any of it. So instead, I did it for them. On Saturday I went in while they were playing outside. That day I simply picked up trash off the floor. The box they'd been playing with, a paper covered in stickers, and other precious artifacts off the floor.
My daughter came in while I was doing it. She immediately started to cry and screamed for the stuff in the trash bag. In a very soft and understanding voice I told her, "Sure, name the item and I'll pull it straight out for you."
She stomped her foot and said she needed to look thru the bag. I gave a sad shake of my head, and asked her what did I already say. She knew she had lost the argument. I marched the bag out to the dumpster.
On the way home from the baby sitter's today I told the kids that their room had to be cleaned today. I explained, I'll be happy to help once I have the laundry done. I also explained to them that things I picked up would go to Goodwill.
Once we were home I had to bite my tongue a few times. I wanted to bad to remind them. But they have to learn to listen, and apply what is said. Instead I got the huge pile of laundry folded. In small manageable stacks I hand the kids their clothing to put away.
Needless to say, not all the clean clothes made it in to the drawers. My son was the main offender. He lost a few items to the Goodwill bags. Tons of toys went into the bulging white bags. And who knows what else, I really didn't pay much attention. I did make sure to put the towels into the wash; those are mine.
On the way to Goodwill I found myself very upset. Three garbage bags full of stuff! Three big bulging bags! I kept thinking about all the money I've spent on their clothes, and toys. And yet the mess in their room has been stressing me out. It's like a vile creepy stench that has been putting us all on edge. We all felt frustrated by the mess. I feel so terrible. All that money that I wasted. Really, it wasn't that much, but I'm not happy. I've got to learn to be a better steward of the money I've been given. I can't waste it on needless things that stress us out.
I made a decision, the kids each get two pairs of shoes, and that's enough. Anything beyond that spells trouble. They have too much to put away, and too many choices. One every day pair, and one church pair and we're good. This week-end I will clean out their drawers and get them back down to seven items in each category, seven shirts, seven pants, etc. I'll help them, and help me, and be a good steward of the blessings we have.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Skate Town
"I want to go home."
"I can't do this."
"It's too hard!"
"Can we go?"
I barely had my skates laced up before my kids were whining royally. My daughter clung to the wall, and my son was sprawled on the waxed floor. There friends were right there whining with them.
For the past six months they've begged me to take them to skate town. Finally I planned ahead. I even made an event of it, inviting the other single parents from my group. We had close to 20 say they would come. (Only 3 showed.)
But after 3 hours, all of the kids were actually skating. My two remembered how, and tore up the floor. The other kids figured out how to keep their feet underneath them half of the time. It was so amazing to watch them figure it out. They kept on trying, over and over, and slowly the skills come to them. Step with the foot turned out. Glide along the other foot.
I meant to bring my camera, but in the rush to get there on time the camera got left at home. Sorry!
"I can't do this."
"It's too hard!"
"Can we go?"
I barely had my skates laced up before my kids were whining royally. My daughter clung to the wall, and my son was sprawled on the waxed floor. There friends were right there whining with them.
For the past six months they've begged me to take them to skate town. Finally I planned ahead. I even made an event of it, inviting the other single parents from my group. We had close to 20 say they would come. (Only 3 showed.)
But after 3 hours, all of the kids were actually skating. My two remembered how, and tore up the floor. The other kids figured out how to keep their feet underneath them half of the time. It was so amazing to watch them figure it out. They kept on trying, over and over, and slowly the skills come to them. Step with the foot turned out. Glide along the other foot.
I meant to bring my camera, but in the rush to get there on time the camera got left at home. Sorry!
Friday, October 5, 2007
The Inept Tooth Fairy
I nearly got caught this morning. As I was waking my son up today I remembered his lost tooth. I ran out of the bedroom to grab a dollar bill. He was rubbing his eyes, looking off in the distance. I thought I might be able to switch the dollar for the tooth without him noticing.
As I came over to his bed though, he reached for his tooth fairy pillow.
"Mom, the tooth fairy didn't come," he grumbled looking at the pillow.
"Let me see," the idea coming to me. I reached into the pillow and grabbed the tooth. My son never realized the dollar bill was in my other hand. I handed it over to the excited kid and he forgot all about it.
I am always forgetting my Tooth Fairy duties!
He made a bloody mess yesterday when the tooth came out. It was a front top tooth. It was so loose it was sticking out perpendicular to his mouth. As he got in the car, he bonked his mouth. Blood spewed everywhere. He began to wail. I asked him, is your tooth okay? He reached up to his mouth, moving the tooth back to it's normal position. As he moved it, the tooth came out in his hand. The crying immediately stopped. The blood dried on his toothy grin. Once we arrived at Chick-Fil-A he proudly showed the bloody tooth. Everyone laughed because of the dried blood on his face.
As I came over to his bed though, he reached for his tooth fairy pillow.
"Mom, the tooth fairy didn't come," he grumbled looking at the pillow.
"Let me see," the idea coming to me. I reached into the pillow and grabbed the tooth. My son never realized the dollar bill was in my other hand. I handed it over to the excited kid and he forgot all about it.
I am always forgetting my Tooth Fairy duties!
He made a bloody mess yesterday when the tooth came out. It was a front top tooth. It was so loose it was sticking out perpendicular to his mouth. As he got in the car, he bonked his mouth. Blood spewed everywhere. He began to wail. I asked him, is your tooth okay? He reached up to his mouth, moving the tooth back to it's normal position. As he moved it, the tooth came out in his hand. The crying immediately stopped. The blood dried on his toothy grin. Once we arrived at Chick-Fil-A he proudly showed the bloody tooth. Everyone laughed because of the dried blood on his face.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
The kids are smart!
Today was Parent/Teacher Conference for my kids. It went about how I expected. But I was pleasantly surprised to learn exactly how smart my children are. Mind you, I think they are brilliant no matter what.
My son is in the top reading group in his class. His teacher honestly admits to being pressed to figure out how to challenge him. She's working hard to give him work that will not be too easy. The kid is a pro at slacking off, so he doesn't need any help. To demonstrate, one of his reading scores was a 49, and 50 is average. His score should have been out of this world, but he only put forth half an effort. She says he's even better at math than he is at reading. I didn't realize that.
And my daughter took the same test as her brother (she's a year younger) and get a 72! And her teacher felt that was accurate. Average score for her grade level was around 35, or lower. She was nearly off the chart!
For both of them, their grades don't reflect their potential. My son is not paying attention, fiddling with his pencil, and basically trying to get away with minimal effort. My daughter is busy being Miss Stubborn Pants. She wants to do it her way, and never mind what the teacher said.
Fortunately my son's problem is solvable. He has shown Attention Deficit Disorder tendencies. I'm strongly opposed to Ritalin, and that class of drugs. I did my research, and I've put him on a high dose of Magnesium. The teacher and I have noticed a big improvement. I explained to my son, this will help you pay attention IF you want to. And he hasn't quite figured out if he wants to yet. I've made it easier for him, but it will still take his own self control.
Wish there was something I could get my daughter for back talking, and strong will! Ten cents for each episode of back talking, growling and hissing. (Yes, she really does growl and hiss at me.) I will permit her to question something, but when it becomes a yelling fest I start tallying up her debt. It's put a real curb on the growls and hisses. Though she doesn't growl and hiss at her teacher, she certainly doesn't give her full attention. I took a look at some of her work. She was supposed to draw a pig. My daughter's pig was holding a stick of dynamite, a match, and wearing a sword. Yep, that's my girl, going out at full force!
My son is in the top reading group in his class. His teacher honestly admits to being pressed to figure out how to challenge him. She's working hard to give him work that will not be too easy. The kid is a pro at slacking off, so he doesn't need any help. To demonstrate, one of his reading scores was a 49, and 50 is average. His score should have been out of this world, but he only put forth half an effort. She says he's even better at math than he is at reading. I didn't realize that.
And my daughter took the same test as her brother (she's a year younger) and get a 72! And her teacher felt that was accurate. Average score for her grade level was around 35, or lower. She was nearly off the chart!
For both of them, their grades don't reflect their potential. My son is not paying attention, fiddling with his pencil, and basically trying to get away with minimal effort. My daughter is busy being Miss Stubborn Pants. She wants to do it her way, and never mind what the teacher said.
Fortunately my son's problem is solvable. He has shown Attention Deficit Disorder tendencies. I'm strongly opposed to Ritalin, and that class of drugs. I did my research, and I've put him on a high dose of Magnesium. The teacher and I have noticed a big improvement. I explained to my son, this will help you pay attention IF you want to. And he hasn't quite figured out if he wants to yet. I've made it easier for him, but it will still take his own self control.
Wish there was something I could get my daughter for back talking, and strong will! Ten cents for each episode of back talking, growling and hissing. (Yes, she really does growl and hiss at me.) I will permit her to question something, but when it becomes a yelling fest I start tallying up her debt. It's put a real curb on the growls and hisses. Though she doesn't growl and hiss at her teacher, she certainly doesn't give her full attention. I took a look at some of her work. She was supposed to draw a pig. My daughter's pig was holding a stick of dynamite, a match, and wearing a sword. Yep, that's my girl, going out at full force!
Friday, September 14, 2007
Flat Stanley
My son is getting ready to participate in a Flat Stanley project. If you aren't familiar with Flat Stanley, let me explain. It's based on a book. A boy wants to go visit the word, and so he gets flattened, and mailed around from place to place. Much cheaper than a plane ticket. So, my son's class is going to make a Flat Stanley, and they need addresses to send him to. If Flat Stanley comes to visit they ask that your provide interesting facts like weather, schools, historical facts etc. Flat Stanley would go with you to school and work, and take pictures to show his trips. If you can find souvenirs to send back with Flat Stanley, that would be great!
So, if you would be willing to host Flat Stanley for a bit, please send me your mailing address.
So, if you would be willing to host Flat Stanley for a bit, please send me your mailing address.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Paniced again
Last night I was in terrible shape. In the rush of the morning, I forgot to take my anxiety meds. While going thru my divorce, I dealt with alot of panic attacks. My doctor put me on medicine to see me thru. The medicine is addictive, and used long term. Translation, once you're on it, you're on it for at least a year, and pity you if you forget to take your meds.
I've accidentally forgotten my meds before. Most of the time, it's not a big deal. I can feel the difference. But often I can deal with my the elevated level of anxiety just fine. It's elevated because I don't have the meds, not because of anything else. It's kind of fake anxiety. My body is so used to my medication, that it goes bonkers without it.
So yesterday I forgot my meds. And we have a busy, frantic day at work. When I got home I took a partial dose, and made it thru the evening without a panic attack. I also saw our massage therapist yesterday, and that helped. Once I had the kids in bed, I mixed up some essential oils she recommended. She suggested them for a diffuser, but I don't have one. (A diffuser heats the oil, and puts it into the air.) So instead I applied them to my forehead, and other pulse points.
Believe me when they say that Nutmeg and Ylang-Ylang have a hypnotic, sedative power, they mean it. Mixed together, they were powerful. I literally couldn't stand up straight. I was tripping over my feet to get to bed.
Today I picked up a diffuser, so that should work good.
I've accidentally forgotten my meds before. Most of the time, it's not a big deal. I can feel the difference. But often I can deal with my the elevated level of anxiety just fine. It's elevated because I don't have the meds, not because of anything else. It's kind of fake anxiety. My body is so used to my medication, that it goes bonkers without it.
So yesterday I forgot my meds. And we have a busy, frantic day at work. When I got home I took a partial dose, and made it thru the evening without a panic attack. I also saw our massage therapist yesterday, and that helped. Once I had the kids in bed, I mixed up some essential oils she recommended. She suggested them for a diffuser, but I don't have one. (A diffuser heats the oil, and puts it into the air.) So instead I applied them to my forehead, and other pulse points.
Believe me when they say that Nutmeg and Ylang-Ylang have a hypnotic, sedative power, they mean it. Mixed together, they were powerful. I literally couldn't stand up straight. I was tripping over my feet to get to bed.
Today I picked up a diffuser, so that should work good.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
The school quandry
Six days into school. My daughter has already had a detention, and my son's teacher had me in for conference this morning. We are not off to a good start. Or maybe we are. Maybe we've finally got teachers who will get in top of their problems and force them to shape up.
My daughter prefers to talk. Instead of following directions, she wants to give them. Each morning I turn up the stereo to fall blast to get her out of bed. So far it's the only thing I've found that will work day after day. She's getting into trouble at school. She's talking, and distracting other children. She wants to play her own games in the middle of class. And needless to say, that's not going over well.
My son on the other hand, plays with his pencil. Instead of completing his work, he simply stares off into space, his mind racing ahead. He's so busy thinking that he forgets to write. (Had the same problem myself.) He refuses to focus unless he's forced to. His teacher has been happily surprised at how smart he is. When asked what the answer is, he can quickly give it. But told, read the question, and write the answer, he stares off into space. Until someone guides his attention, he let's himself wander.
Today I was at school with them at 7:30 am so I could meet with my son's teacher. Basically I told her, he's going to have to hit rock bottom before this will improve. So we're going to let him fail as quickly as we can so that he'll learn responsibility. And hopefully won't sacrifice too much of the school year in the process. And my daughter meanwhile had to stay after school 30 minutes to serve her time.
My daughter prefers to talk. Instead of following directions, she wants to give them. Each morning I turn up the stereo to fall blast to get her out of bed. So far it's the only thing I've found that will work day after day. She's getting into trouble at school. She's talking, and distracting other children. She wants to play her own games in the middle of class. And needless to say, that's not going over well.
My son on the other hand, plays with his pencil. Instead of completing his work, he simply stares off into space, his mind racing ahead. He's so busy thinking that he forgets to write. (Had the same problem myself.) He refuses to focus unless he's forced to. His teacher has been happily surprised at how smart he is. When asked what the answer is, he can quickly give it. But told, read the question, and write the answer, he stares off into space. Until someone guides his attention, he let's himself wander.
Today I was at school with them at 7:30 am so I could meet with my son's teacher. Basically I told her, he's going to have to hit rock bottom before this will improve. So we're going to let him fail as quickly as we can so that he'll learn responsibility. And hopefully won't sacrifice too much of the school year in the process. And my daughter meanwhile had to stay after school 30 minutes to serve her time.
Corpus Christi
This week-end I went to Corpus Christi for Labor Day. A friend in our singles group is originally from Corpus, and her family still lives there.
As you can see, we kind of had fun. Tube rides, rides on a fishing boat, and a bonfire on the beach were all included. I could go on and on about my week-end. It was fantastic.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Divorce
This morning me and my son were cuddled up in my bed. After a very late night, everybody slept in on the Saturday morning.
Last night we had a volleyball activity for the 30's somethings Singles. Tons of people there, free babysitting, great snacks, it was a great time. I had a blast, even though I only hit the ball over the net twice. My kids played with their new friends, watched movies, and later ran around the church building just having fun. My kids are quickly coming to realize that when Mommy says there is a Singles activity it means tons of fun for them.
So my son and I were curled up talking this morning. I asked him about his favorite parts of last night, and he talked about running with his new friends. I mentioned pool party today at so-and-so's Dad's house.
"Are her parents divorced?" He asked me, half hidden in the blankets.
"Yes, all the kids there last night have divorced parents."
We talked for a few more minutes and then it dawned on me. When we go to our ward, my children are the only children of a divorced family. Even though they have never said anything about it, they feel odd. One of our books on divorce discusses this fact. And part of the reason my kids love the Singles activities is because they are now just like everybody else.
My kids have found a group to which they belong. Their differences are not an issue with the other kids in the Singles group. What a total blessing to my children. I hadn't realized how much they needed the Singles group. I thought it was just for me, but I'm realizing this wonderful group that I'm now a part of is ministering to my children, too. Ministering in ways I didn't realize they needed. I feel so very blessed.
Last night we had a volleyball activity for the 30's somethings Singles. Tons of people there, free babysitting, great snacks, it was a great time. I had a blast, even though I only hit the ball over the net twice. My kids played with their new friends, watched movies, and later ran around the church building just having fun. My kids are quickly coming to realize that when Mommy says there is a Singles activity it means tons of fun for them.
So my son and I were curled up talking this morning. I asked him about his favorite parts of last night, and he talked about running with his new friends. I mentioned pool party today at so-and-so's Dad's house.
"Are her parents divorced?" He asked me, half hidden in the blankets.
"Yes, all the kids there last night have divorced parents."
We talked for a few more minutes and then it dawned on me. When we go to our ward, my children are the only children of a divorced family. Even though they have never said anything about it, they feel odd. One of our books on divorce discusses this fact. And part of the reason my kids love the Singles activities is because they are now just like everybody else.
My kids have found a group to which they belong. Their differences are not an issue with the other kids in the Singles group. What a total blessing to my children. I hadn't realized how much they needed the Singles group. I thought it was just for me, but I'm realizing this wonderful group that I'm now a part of is ministering to my children, too. Ministering in ways I didn't realize they needed. I feel so very blessed.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Music
For the first time in years, I have a piano keyboard.
When I was in elementary school I took piano lessons. It was hard, but I really wanted the music in my life. I seemed to struggle more than other people and I didn't know why. Reading both the bass clef and treble clef was so rough for me. It was like nearly impossible or something!
In 6th grade I switched to clarinet, and suddenly music was easy. There was only one note that I had to play, and the music didn't give me fits. I later learned that I had mild dyslexia. The dyslexia had made it difficult to read music. Still had trouble with the clarinet music, but piano had gotten to be trouble to the power of 4: 4 notes to read! Clarinet was just trouble on one level.
So I quit playing piano. Not that the joy, and desire ever left me. Over the years I've played a few pieces. I have to commit them to memory to be able to play them. I still can't read music and play at the same time. So when I went to Colorado this week-end my friend gave me one of her extra keyboards. Tonight I pulled out the easy version of Pachabella's Cannon and started learning it. I have to relearn my bass clef all over again, but so what. I finally put the keyboard away tonight or else I would have staid up all night memorizing it so I could enjoy myself.
Just no one let the people at church know that I can play or else I'll find myself facing a piano each week. We are short on pianists!
When I was in elementary school I took piano lessons. It was hard, but I really wanted the music in my life. I seemed to struggle more than other people and I didn't know why. Reading both the bass clef and treble clef was so rough for me. It was like nearly impossible or something!
In 6th grade I switched to clarinet, and suddenly music was easy. There was only one note that I had to play, and the music didn't give me fits. I later learned that I had mild dyslexia. The dyslexia had made it difficult to read music. Still had trouble with the clarinet music, but piano had gotten to be trouble to the power of 4: 4 notes to read! Clarinet was just trouble on one level.
So I quit playing piano. Not that the joy, and desire ever left me. Over the years I've played a few pieces. I have to commit them to memory to be able to play them. I still can't read music and play at the same time. So when I went to Colorado this week-end my friend gave me one of her extra keyboards. Tonight I pulled out the easy version of Pachabella's Cannon and started learning it. I have to relearn my bass clef all over again, but so what. I finally put the keyboard away tonight or else I would have staid up all night memorizing it so I could enjoy myself.
Just no one let the people at church know that I can play or else I'll find myself facing a piano each week. We are short on pianists!
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Social
In High School I desperately wanted this life. During my college years I searched for it, but never had it. For once, I finally have the social life I want.
This week-end I fly up to Colorado Springs to participate in some important stuff with a friend there. Labor Day week-end I'm going down to Corpus with a bunch of Singles from the area. And in between I have all sorts of other activities. Game nights, volleyball, dances, and so many other things. Life is busy and I'm in the center of the activities.
I'm invited to all the activities, and I participate. On Monday I did the activity for our Family Home Evening group. We played pictionary, and everyone had a blast.
I just keep thinking, all my life I wanted this sort of life. In High School I had a good group of friends, but we were just learning how to socialize. We didn't know how to include everyone, and make people feel welcome. In my college years, I just wasn't one of the inside people. I was always swimming against the flow to get in the group. They didn't try to to exclude me, they just succeeded at it really well. Or maybe I didn't try hard enough to be part of the group.
Who knows, it doesn't matter. But I finally have the social life I've always wanted. People invite me to events. I'm on the inside. I don't really have words to express how huge a change this is for me. I'm happy, and I'm alive. I'm living.
This week-end I fly up to Colorado Springs to participate in some important stuff with a friend there. Labor Day week-end I'm going down to Corpus with a bunch of Singles from the area. And in between I have all sorts of other activities. Game nights, volleyball, dances, and so many other things. Life is busy and I'm in the center of the activities.
I'm invited to all the activities, and I participate. On Monday I did the activity for our Family Home Evening group. We played pictionary, and everyone had a blast.
I just keep thinking, all my life I wanted this sort of life. In High School I had a good group of friends, but we were just learning how to socialize. We didn't know how to include everyone, and make people feel welcome. In my college years, I just wasn't one of the inside people. I was always swimming against the flow to get in the group. They didn't try to to exclude me, they just succeeded at it really well. Or maybe I didn't try hard enough to be part of the group.
Who knows, it doesn't matter. But I finally have the social life I've always wanted. People invite me to events. I'm on the inside. I don't really have words to express how huge a change this is for me. I'm happy, and I'm alive. I'm living.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Kill the Modem, Kill the computer, rant and rave
Over 2 weeks ago my modem died. As far as I can tell it was a painless process, the modem didn't suffer. It simply went to sleep and never woke up. Though I was grieved . . . no, the dumb thing quit getting power, and aggravated me to no end.
Not only did I have to replace the modem, but I had to replace an Ethernet card. The first one I bought didn't work. And meanwhile my brother is moving, and gave me a couple pieces of furniture, including a nice new desk. So, my whole Internet operation has been in upheaval.
But now we're on the new modem, new (working) ether card, and new desk!
Life has been spent going to all sorts of singles events. Tonight I've got a dinner that I'm going to. It will take me a few days to get back in the swing of posting.
Not only did I have to replace the modem, but I had to replace an Ethernet card. The first one I bought didn't work. And meanwhile my brother is moving, and gave me a couple pieces of furniture, including a nice new desk. So, my whole Internet operation has been in upheaval.
But now we're on the new modem, new (working) ether card, and new desk!
Life has been spent going to all sorts of singles events. Tonight I've got a dinner that I'm going to. It will take me a few days to get back in the swing of posting.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Dance
Dance
I remember nervous Middle School dances where the guys congregated on one side of the room, and the girls on the other. There were one or two High School dances that were serious fun, everyone group dancing, just having a blast. And then I did go to a few clubs in my hey-day, but those were more nerve wracking that Middle School dances.
At first I avoided the singles Dances my church offers. I found excuses. I had my kids that evening, the dance was too far away, no one I knew would be going. But I’ve started having a good time at the Church Singles events. So last Sunday my Choir Director, Gary asked me if I was going to the Friday dance. He mentioned, it’s going to be 40’s style, swing music, come on, why don’t you go? I thought for a moment, and said, yeah, I’ll see if I can make it.
All week I researched what to wear. Spent hours finding out about the make-up and hair styles. Talked with my co-workers about what to do. I experimented with a few styles. By the time Friday rolled around I was very excited.
I made sure to arrive in time for the Dance class. I mean, for Pete’s sake, I danced as a Teenager, 15 years ago. Since then I’ve taken tons of Ballet, not that my body shows it. But my feet, and hands want to move for performance. The idea of a dance class sounded vital to me. And we have two Ballroom Dance instructors, who actually know what they are doing.
Gary sprinted in as instructions were just starting. Since he recognized me, he paired up to dance with me. I was shocked to realize just as how close you stand when you dance. I mean, I’ve watched other people dance, but to actually stand that close, that’s different. Gary was dressed out, the suspenders, short tie, and everything. He looked like he had just stepped straight out of the 40’s.
I have never had so much fun in my life. Gary and I danced one good swing number. We spun around the dance floor, grinning and laughing our heads off. His dance style was amazing, and with him leading, I felt like I could really dance.
Mind you, I didn’t dance with him all night, actually only danced two numbers with him. But dancing with Gary was probably the most fun. I grabbed a guy I know to dance a slow song I love. I got asked to dance a few times. And most of the time I danced with a group that I’m getting to know.
I love to dance! I love it, love it, love it! My cheeks hurt from smiling so much! It was simply fun!
I remember nervous Middle School dances where the guys congregated on one side of the room, and the girls on the other. There were one or two High School dances that were serious fun, everyone group dancing, just having a blast. And then I did go to a few clubs in my hey-day, but those were more nerve wracking that Middle School dances.
At first I avoided the singles Dances my church offers. I found excuses. I had my kids that evening, the dance was too far away, no one I knew would be going. But I’ve started having a good time at the Church Singles events. So last Sunday my Choir Director, Gary asked me if I was going to the Friday dance. He mentioned, it’s going to be 40’s style, swing music, come on, why don’t you go? I thought for a moment, and said, yeah, I’ll see if I can make it.
All week I researched what to wear. Spent hours finding out about the make-up and hair styles. Talked with my co-workers about what to do. I experimented with a few styles. By the time Friday rolled around I was very excited.
I made sure to arrive in time for the Dance class. I mean, for Pete’s sake, I danced as a Teenager, 15 years ago. Since then I’ve taken tons of Ballet, not that my body shows it. But my feet, and hands want to move for performance. The idea of a dance class sounded vital to me. And we have two Ballroom Dance instructors, who actually know what they are doing.
Gary sprinted in as instructions were just starting. Since he recognized me, he paired up to dance with me. I was shocked to realize just as how close you stand when you dance. I mean, I’ve watched other people dance, but to actually stand that close, that’s different. Gary was dressed out, the suspenders, short tie, and everything. He looked like he had just stepped straight out of the 40’s.
I have never had so much fun in my life. Gary and I danced one good swing number. We spun around the dance floor, grinning and laughing our heads off. His dance style was amazing, and with him leading, I felt like I could really dance.
Mind you, I didn’t dance with him all night, actually only danced two numbers with him. But dancing with Gary was probably the most fun. I grabbed a guy I know to dance a slow song I love. I got asked to dance a few times. And most of the time I danced with a group that I’m getting to know.
I love to dance! I love it, love it, love it! My cheeks hurt from smiling so much! It was simply fun!
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Personality Lab
On Saturday I learned so much about my two kids. I had a chance to take both of them to a workshop.
My son has gone to multiple workshops since March. Gradually he has learned how to work a hammer. Reading directions is always my role. He finds the pieces, and I direct him on how to put it together. When he gets stuck, I help him. I straighten out the nails. Sometimes I even help hold the nail as he drives it in. But basically he gets to build.
He is a calm, serious child. He concentrates well, and can logically figure out how things go together. Once he’s working, he’s willing to take directions.
But on Saturday I had both children. He tried to guide his sister, but she was unwilling to accept his advice. I quickly informed him that he needed to pipe down. Mommy reads the directions, and the kids put it together. He tried to tell her how to hold a hammer, how to hold the nail and drive it in. Finally I whispered to him, Buddy, she wants to argue. So instead just be quiet and show her how to do it. After a while he did settle down.
My daughter was interested in proving herself as good as the other kids. She watched everyone around her, trying to see what they were doing. Instead of studying the pieces, she took her cues from the other people. When I tried to help her, she screamed at me. It was an awful mixture of “Help Me!” And “I can do it for myself!”
In the end, a father nearby stepped in, assuming I didn’t know what I was doing. (I kind of resented it.) He started each of the nails for her. Then she could see what to do, and do it for herself.
In this month with only my son, I have learned exactly how loving he is. He likes to snuggle up with me. His sister has occupied my lap for the last 6 years and this was his first chance. She is such a demonstrative kid, and that he was unwilling to compete with her cuteness factor. He will come up to me and cover my face with kisses. He likes to sit next to me. He strives to please me. Without his sister to distract him, he’ll happily take out the trash for me. There is no argument.
My daughter on the other hand whines about everything. She goes for the easy way out. If she thinks she can wiggle her way out of something she’ll work hard at it. Path of least resistance. She has learned to be cute, snuggle. She does it as a lazy way out of work. My son on the other hand will snuggle because he likes it, and he knows how much I like it. My daughter will sit on my lap in hopes that I will play with her hair, and rescue her from her chores.
My son has gone to multiple workshops since March. Gradually he has learned how to work a hammer. Reading directions is always my role. He finds the pieces, and I direct him on how to put it together. When he gets stuck, I help him. I straighten out the nails. Sometimes I even help hold the nail as he drives it in. But basically he gets to build.
He is a calm, serious child. He concentrates well, and can logically figure out how things go together. Once he’s working, he’s willing to take directions.
But on Saturday I had both children. He tried to guide his sister, but she was unwilling to accept his advice. I quickly informed him that he needed to pipe down. Mommy reads the directions, and the kids put it together. He tried to tell her how to hold a hammer, how to hold the nail and drive it in. Finally I whispered to him, Buddy, she wants to argue. So instead just be quiet and show her how to do it. After a while he did settle down.
My daughter was interested in proving herself as good as the other kids. She watched everyone around her, trying to see what they were doing. Instead of studying the pieces, she took her cues from the other people. When I tried to help her, she screamed at me. It was an awful mixture of “Help Me!” And “I can do it for myself!”
In the end, a father nearby stepped in, assuming I didn’t know what I was doing. (I kind of resented it.) He started each of the nails for her. Then she could see what to do, and do it for herself.
In this month with only my son, I have learned exactly how loving he is. He likes to snuggle up with me. His sister has occupied my lap for the last 6 years and this was his first chance. She is such a demonstrative kid, and that he was unwilling to compete with her cuteness factor. He will come up to me and cover my face with kisses. He likes to sit next to me. He strives to please me. Without his sister to distract him, he’ll happily take out the trash for me. There is no argument.
My daughter on the other hand whines about everything. She goes for the easy way out. If she thinks she can wiggle her way out of something she’ll work hard at it. Path of least resistance. She has learned to be cute, snuggle. She does it as a lazy way out of work. My son on the other hand will snuggle because he likes it, and he knows how much I like it. My daughter will sit on my lap in hopes that I will play with her hair, and rescue her from her chores.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Hair
At the family birthday party, everyone had to comment on my son’s hair.
“Hey kid, when are we going to cut this?”
“You know I can get you a razor, right?”
I explained that I had offered to cut his hair, but he’s been refusing. And he normally fights hair cuts really bad, so I decided to stay out of this one. If he wants his hair long, so be it. It doesn’t hurt me. He’s the one who gets hot, not me. With all that thick dark hair, I really can’t understand why he wants it long.
This morning at breakfast I talked with him about it. Basically his point was there are some girls with really short hair, and he’s seen other boys with long hair. And he thinks boys with long hair look neat.
So his hair is a battle I’m not fighting. He wants it long, so be it.
But I’m afraid that if he goes over to Daddy’s house, someone is going to take the scissors to his mop. Dad even mentioned it when we dropped his sister off. I explained, no he’s been refusing hair cuts, this is what he wants. But I don’t know if Dad will respect that.
“Hey kid, when are we going to cut this?”
“You know I can get you a razor, right?”
I explained that I had offered to cut his hair, but he’s been refusing. And he normally fights hair cuts really bad, so I decided to stay out of this one. If he wants his hair long, so be it. It doesn’t hurt me. He’s the one who gets hot, not me. With all that thick dark hair, I really can’t understand why he wants it long.
This morning at breakfast I talked with him about it. Basically his point was there are some girls with really short hair, and he’s seen other boys with long hair. And he thinks boys with long hair look neat.
So his hair is a battle I’m not fighting. He wants it long, so be it.
But I’m afraid that if he goes over to Daddy’s house, someone is going to take the scissors to his mop. Dad even mentioned it when we dropped his sister off. I explained, no he’s been refusing hair cuts, this is what he wants. But I don’t know if Dad will respect that.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Single!
Well, I am officially part of the Singles Scene! I am averaging 2 singles events per week-end, and having a blast at it! Meeting a bunch of singles people, guys and gals.
This weekend I went to a concert in the park with my son. It was a huge event, with a bounce house for the kids, and tons of other activities. My son ran all over the place. I met a few really cool guys, and totally spaced it on getting contact info. And one of them was really neat! I’m hoping I’ll run into him again at another event.
Then on Sunday night I went to a Fireside. It’s a speaker and then snacks afterwards. That was a bunch of fun too. Had to get a babysitter though to go to that one. Socialized with people, teased some, got teased by others.
This week I have two kid friendly events planned. First of all we’re going to a Movie in the park, Happy Feet. Friday evening the Zoo will come with animals to present before they present the movie. I told my son, and he got excited. Even though Grandma took him to see Happy Feet at Christmas time, and his father owns the DVD, the thought of going for a fun time really appeals to him.
But even more exciting is the Denton Family Fun Party. Swimming, food and games, the flier says. I’m going to drive up there with another single woman from our Ward.
And meanwhile I’m working on dates too. Had an afternoon date with one guy yesterday. It was fun, but I’m not sure I’ll go out with him again. I’ll give him one more try, and then he’ll be re-classified to friend material. He’s a ton of fun to talk with though. From my online dating site, I’ve got a guy from Houston that really wants to take me out. He’s said that next time he has a business trip to this area he’ll take me to see the new Harry Potter movie. I really want to see it, but feel it’s too scary for the kids. So I’ve agreed to go do that.
I’m a busy girl, with a full calendar! And I’m so happy. No longer am I scared of social events. I feel alive and vibrant in ways I haven’t felt for a long time. And I feel pretty! (Well maybe the $250 shopping spree has more to do with the last one!)
This weekend I went to a concert in the park with my son. It was a huge event, with a bounce house for the kids, and tons of other activities. My son ran all over the place. I met a few really cool guys, and totally spaced it on getting contact info. And one of them was really neat! I’m hoping I’ll run into him again at another event.
Then on Sunday night I went to a Fireside. It’s a speaker and then snacks afterwards. That was a bunch of fun too. Had to get a babysitter though to go to that one. Socialized with people, teased some, got teased by others.
This week I have two kid friendly events planned. First of all we’re going to a Movie in the park, Happy Feet. Friday evening the Zoo will come with animals to present before they present the movie. I told my son, and he got excited. Even though Grandma took him to see Happy Feet at Christmas time, and his father owns the DVD, the thought of going for a fun time really appeals to him.
But even more exciting is the Denton Family Fun Party. Swimming, food and games, the flier says. I’m going to drive up there with another single woman from our Ward.
And meanwhile I’m working on dates too. Had an afternoon date with one guy yesterday. It was fun, but I’m not sure I’ll go out with him again. I’ll give him one more try, and then he’ll be re-classified to friend material. He’s a ton of fun to talk with though. From my online dating site, I’ve got a guy from Houston that really wants to take me out. He’s said that next time he has a business trip to this area he’ll take me to see the new Harry Potter movie. I really want to see it, but feel it’s too scary for the kids. So I’ve agreed to go do that.
I’m a busy girl, with a full calendar! And I’m so happy. No longer am I scared of social events. I feel alive and vibrant in ways I haven’t felt for a long time. And I feel pretty! (Well maybe the $250 shopping spree has more to do with the last one!)
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Business of Aid
After reading a book on the UN in Somalia, my ideas about aid in the Third World have solidified.
For a long time, the only milk available in the markets of Nigeria was the Long Life milk produced by UNICEF. From Niger, it was sold via the black market to Nigeria. My mother was horrified to buy milk that was stamped “Aid, not for resale.” But she didn’t know what else to do. Milk was a necessity. We turned our nose up at powdered milk.
She consoled herself saying at least the people were making some money. Milk wasn’t a popular item to African people. Many adults were lactose intolerant. So the people sold what they didn’t need, and then had money to buy what they did need.
Fortunately my mom soon figured out how to make chocolate syrup and mix it into powdered milk. Because she also found UN bags of rice, wheat and other staples. It became obvious to her that the food was not reaching the people.
I never understood this. Personally I liked Long Life milk. But chocolate milk was always better. Now I realize how aid really works in these war torn countries.
First the UN has to rent a place to live, and work. They must bribe some official, or pay for their protection. And then comes the “taxes” for allowing the aid to enter the country. The convoy of aid must have protection, so more bully money has to be paid. Often the people in need are deep in the heart of the country, removed from easy access. So road tolls must be paid to get to that part of the country. The local people then explain that it’s simply too dangerous for the UN people to go to this area of the country, and they must hire local people to deliver the goods. I’m sure a small portion of the aid finally reaches the people, but in the end, the city gains the most profit.
A third world city’s whole economy can revolve around the UN. The UN might be the only industry bringing fresh money in. And that money is used to buy more guns, more bullets, RPG’s and other things.
Instead I believe in the power of business. Not big business, that’s for sure. Shell Oil, Amco and all the others have proven that they do no good. Large business creates big money, and big money brings big vultures who line their own pockets. The many presidents of Nigeria got rich, and sent their children off to fine schools. Meanwhile in the villages, parents struggle to pay tuition fees, buy school books, feed and cloth their children. The oil wealth of the country is looted. Even worse is the pollution that is spread thru the Delta region of Nigeria. The estuaries are polluted making indigenous life more difficult that it needs to be. Rumors of bribes and grafts between big business and the government abound.
In Angola, worn torn for 30 years, the diamond, and uranium mines continued to work even while the country tore itself apart. Big business was protected. They needed money to buy more guns so they made sure that at least some money could be made from the natural resources. Of course, more money could be made in times of peace, but at least they had the bullets to kill their neighbors with.
Big Business is not the solution. Small individual business I believe can bring a level of peace and stability not seen. I have loaned money to a woman in Nigeria thru Kiva. She sells sodas, and sends her kids to school. With the money I loaned she was able to increase her business. Her children are well fed, and have minimal health care. They will grow up to be self supporting individuals who will hopefully never need a leg up in society. In return, over half of the money I loaned has already been paid back.
I’m certain this woman is becoming increasingly involved in the activities of her city and country. She has more at stake now as her business grows. She’ll vote in elections, and try to prevent riots that may destroy her fledgling business.
One of my high school friends did something much like this. He and a group of alumni wanted to do something to help the country. They put their heads together and talked. These graduates of Harvard, Yale, Sanford and Dartmoth knew the history of scholarships, aid in Nigeria. Instead they decided to form a business. It involved calling cards, and Internet cafes. They wanted to give the people access to the larger world, hoping the free flow of information would help step the people up. Maybe it could bring stability to the region.
But more importantly, they knew it would have a stabilizing influence for the people who worked there. A steady job would mean so many kids in school, food on the table. The dependable income would allow these people to have homes, buy food, and so much more. In one word, Trickle Down economics. The blessing of the job would flow out to so many areas of the area.
It’s amazing, but this business idea crafted to aid the region has actually become a money maker. And Nigeria has recently gone thru their third democratic election. Accusations of corruption were rampant, but a new president is now in office.
For a long time, the only milk available in the markets of Nigeria was the Long Life milk produced by UNICEF. From Niger, it was sold via the black market to Nigeria. My mother was horrified to buy milk that was stamped “Aid, not for resale.” But she didn’t know what else to do. Milk was a necessity. We turned our nose up at powdered milk.
She consoled herself saying at least the people were making some money. Milk wasn’t a popular item to African people. Many adults were lactose intolerant. So the people sold what they didn’t need, and then had money to buy what they did need.
Fortunately my mom soon figured out how to make chocolate syrup and mix it into powdered milk. Because she also found UN bags of rice, wheat and other staples. It became obvious to her that the food was not reaching the people.
I never understood this. Personally I liked Long Life milk. But chocolate milk was always better. Now I realize how aid really works in these war torn countries.
First the UN has to rent a place to live, and work. They must bribe some official, or pay for their protection. And then comes the “taxes” for allowing the aid to enter the country. The convoy of aid must have protection, so more bully money has to be paid. Often the people in need are deep in the heart of the country, removed from easy access. So road tolls must be paid to get to that part of the country. The local people then explain that it’s simply too dangerous for the UN people to go to this area of the country, and they must hire local people to deliver the goods. I’m sure a small portion of the aid finally reaches the people, but in the end, the city gains the most profit.
A third world city’s whole economy can revolve around the UN. The UN might be the only industry bringing fresh money in. And that money is used to buy more guns, more bullets, RPG’s and other things.
Instead I believe in the power of business. Not big business, that’s for sure. Shell Oil, Amco and all the others have proven that they do no good. Large business creates big money, and big money brings big vultures who line their own pockets. The many presidents of Nigeria got rich, and sent their children off to fine schools. Meanwhile in the villages, parents struggle to pay tuition fees, buy school books, feed and cloth their children. The oil wealth of the country is looted. Even worse is the pollution that is spread thru the Delta region of Nigeria. The estuaries are polluted making indigenous life more difficult that it needs to be. Rumors of bribes and grafts between big business and the government abound.
In Angola, worn torn for 30 years, the diamond, and uranium mines continued to work even while the country tore itself apart. Big business was protected. They needed money to buy more guns so they made sure that at least some money could be made from the natural resources. Of course, more money could be made in times of peace, but at least they had the bullets to kill their neighbors with.
Big Business is not the solution. Small individual business I believe can bring a level of peace and stability not seen. I have loaned money to a woman in Nigeria thru Kiva. She sells sodas, and sends her kids to school. With the money I loaned she was able to increase her business. Her children are well fed, and have minimal health care. They will grow up to be self supporting individuals who will hopefully never need a leg up in society. In return, over half of the money I loaned has already been paid back.
I’m certain this woman is becoming increasingly involved in the activities of her city and country. She has more at stake now as her business grows. She’ll vote in elections, and try to prevent riots that may destroy her fledgling business.
One of my high school friends did something much like this. He and a group of alumni wanted to do something to help the country. They put their heads together and talked. These graduates of Harvard, Yale, Sanford and Dartmoth knew the history of scholarships, aid in Nigeria. Instead they decided to form a business. It involved calling cards, and Internet cafes. They wanted to give the people access to the larger world, hoping the free flow of information would help step the people up. Maybe it could bring stability to the region.
But more importantly, they knew it would have a stabilizing influence for the people who worked there. A steady job would mean so many kids in school, food on the table. The dependable income would allow these people to have homes, buy food, and so much more. In one word, Trickle Down economics. The blessing of the job would flow out to so many areas of the area.
It’s amazing, but this business idea crafted to aid the region has actually become a money maker. And Nigeria has recently gone thru their third democratic election. Accusations of corruption were rampant, but a new president is now in office.
Monday, July 9, 2007
Forgiving again
For the past two weeks my ex has been showing up for Church. Since he has our daughter for the month of July, thanks to the divorce decree, he has been faithful to take her to church. I'm grateful that she gets to come to church, but it does make it a bit uncomfortable for me.
Over a year ago I really struggled thru forgiving him for everything that happened between us. At that time he was showing up for church pretty regular, and it was so hard to see him each week. One week I listened to talk on being righteous to take the sacrament. It made me burn with an absolute fury to think of him participating in this sacred ordinance when he had not made things right with me, when he was living with his girlfriend while still being legally married to me. I was filled with a fury I hardly ever reach. But the next week I closely watched, and saw that he was not taking the sacrament. He simply passed the plate and took none himself.
Also the next week my Bishop let me borrow a book called the Peacegiver. It was a life altering experience. I learned that Christ's atonement had been given to my ex already. And who was I too think I could change that fact. What power did I think I had to say that no, my ex wasn't worthy of forgiveness. I actually came to realize my own sins against my ex, and I asked him for forgiveness.
Don't get me wrong, I truly repented of my sins, and I asked with a sincere heart for forgiveness both from my ex, and from my Heavenly Father. It was not an easy task. Even harder though is to maintain that Spirit.
Enough about the past, this past week I got two nasty surprises. I'm not quite sure which is worse. First of all I found out that my ex has married his girlfriend. I didn't expect a wedding invitation or anything. But I did expect I would be informed. Secondly I found out she's getting baptized.
It makes me mad to think that she is being welcomed in. After what she did to me, how can they do this? Everyone knows!
And yet this is what forgiveness is, to open the doors and let your enemies in.
I believe in the right. I believe in the power of the ordinance of baptism. I believe that when we enter freely into repentance we are truly saved. And I certainly thought this gift was offered to everyone. But right now I'd love to deny her this gift. But if me and my awful wicked thought have been found worthy to enter the kingdom of heaven, who am I to deny it to another. For all have sinned and fallen short of the Glory of God. (Right now I'm sinning, and falling way short.) She at least is moving forward, embracing the Gospel.
We are called to live the Gospel, to live in righteousness. To quote Paul, for some it is okay to eat meat sacrificed to idols, and for others it is not okay. Each person has their own level of righteousness, and one is not better than another. We are all judged by what our Heavenly Father knows we are capable of. I am not Paul the disciple, and I never will be. I am not expected to do the things he did. All I ever can be is what God made me, any more or less would be a step out of his will. I've got to live to the highest of my potential.
And I can not judge my ex and his girlfriend by my marks of personal righteousness. What is expected of me is not what's expected of them. Only my Heavenly Father can hold them accountable for their behavior. It is not for me to judge, but for Him. So who are we to judge who should be baptized or not? It doesn't make the ordinance any less holy if it is extended to someone I think unworthy.
There is a saying I've heard, Only a fool takes offence when it is intended, and only a fool takes offence where none is intended.
Over a year ago I really struggled thru forgiving him for everything that happened between us. At that time he was showing up for church pretty regular, and it was so hard to see him each week. One week I listened to talk on being righteous to take the sacrament. It made me burn with an absolute fury to think of him participating in this sacred ordinance when he had not made things right with me, when he was living with his girlfriend while still being legally married to me. I was filled with a fury I hardly ever reach. But the next week I closely watched, and saw that he was not taking the sacrament. He simply passed the plate and took none himself.
Also the next week my Bishop let me borrow a book called the Peacegiver. It was a life altering experience. I learned that Christ's atonement had been given to my ex already. And who was I too think I could change that fact. What power did I think I had to say that no, my ex wasn't worthy of forgiveness. I actually came to realize my own sins against my ex, and I asked him for forgiveness.
Don't get me wrong, I truly repented of my sins, and I asked with a sincere heart for forgiveness both from my ex, and from my Heavenly Father. It was not an easy task. Even harder though is to maintain that Spirit.
Enough about the past, this past week I got two nasty surprises. I'm not quite sure which is worse. First of all I found out that my ex has married his girlfriend. I didn't expect a wedding invitation or anything. But I did expect I would be informed. Secondly I found out she's getting baptized.
It makes me mad to think that she is being welcomed in. After what she did to me, how can they do this? Everyone knows!
And yet this is what forgiveness is, to open the doors and let your enemies in.
I believe in the right. I believe in the power of the ordinance of baptism. I believe that when we enter freely into repentance we are truly saved. And I certainly thought this gift was offered to everyone. But right now I'd love to deny her this gift. But if me and my awful wicked thought have been found worthy to enter the kingdom of heaven, who am I to deny it to another. For all have sinned and fallen short of the Glory of God. (Right now I'm sinning, and falling way short.) She at least is moving forward, embracing the Gospel.
We are called to live the Gospel, to live in righteousness. To quote Paul, for some it is okay to eat meat sacrificed to idols, and for others it is not okay. Each person has their own level of righteousness, and one is not better than another. We are all judged by what our Heavenly Father knows we are capable of. I am not Paul the disciple, and I never will be. I am not expected to do the things he did. All I ever can be is what God made me, any more or less would be a step out of his will. I've got to live to the highest of my potential.
And I can not judge my ex and his girlfriend by my marks of personal righteousness. What is expected of me is not what's expected of them. Only my Heavenly Father can hold them accountable for their behavior. It is not for me to judge, but for Him. So who are we to judge who should be baptized or not? It doesn't make the ordinance any less holy if it is extended to someone I think unworthy.
There is a saying I've heard, Only a fool takes offence when it is intended, and only a fool takes offence where none is intended.
Saturday, July 7, 2007
Self Empowerment.
Since the Divorce is final, I've been on a self improvement streak. First Fung Shui, and now fashion. I checked out a book from the library on fashion for different body types. And came to the conclusion that I need to pick up some new clothes.
So I did that today. We went to Lane Bryant, and I got some wonderful pieces. It was expensive though, really bad! I can only do that once in a while. But the clothing that I came out with does wonders for my body.
As I was trying on the clothes my son watched. I put on one outfit and he declared me pretty. Believe me, I came home with that outfit!
If I want to be date ready, I have to feel confident about myself. I have to feel that I look good, and that I've got my life in order. I know I have alot to offer the right man, so I've got to set the bait correctly. And if I look good and feel good, I won't settle for any loosers.
PS On a side note, the girls at work follow the movement of Paris Hilton like a hawk. They caught Paris wearing one of my cute new pink pairs of shoes. I'm so thrilled to have that sort of affirmation. I don't care for Paris, but it's nice to know that my choices are that in line.
So I did that today. We went to Lane Bryant, and I got some wonderful pieces. It was expensive though, really bad! I can only do that once in a while. But the clothing that I came out with does wonders for my body.
As I was trying on the clothes my son watched. I put on one outfit and he declared me pretty. Believe me, I came home with that outfit!
If I want to be date ready, I have to feel confident about myself. I have to feel that I look good, and that I've got my life in order. I know I have alot to offer the right man, so I've got to set the bait correctly. And if I look good and feel good, I won't settle for any loosers.
PS On a side note, the girls at work follow the movement of Paris Hilton like a hawk. They caught Paris wearing one of my cute new pink pairs of shoes. I'm so thrilled to have that sort of affirmation. I don't care for Paris, but it's nice to know that my choices are that in line.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Happy 4th of July
We started our morning off with the Ward 4th of July Breakfast. Nearly didn't happen because the park was flooded. Actually it wasn't flooded today, but the police had to be called to open the park for us. So we had breakfast with our church friends, and it was good. Followed by a swim at a family's pool. The kids had a blast. My son found a bunch of teenagers to toss him in the pool. He swam on their backs, and loved it. The teenagers are always impressed by my little guy swimming in the deep end. He's so adept, and loves it.
Other than that, we've been watching movies and hanging pictures. Watched the Italian Job, such a funny movie with the classic cliff hanger ending. And I got so many pictures hung today. Tons of wonderful family pictures now decorating our home. I keep walking into the kids room because it looks so great!
Tonight we're planning on going to the Irving Fireworks show. A friend told me how to park in the parking garage, and see the fireworks. Then I don't have to go down in the crowd with the kids. I don't have to get my feet wet. We'll turn on the radio and listen to the live music that goes with the fireworks. Sounds like a plan to me! More worried about the fireworks getting rained out.
Other than that, we've been watching movies and hanging pictures. Watched the Italian Job, such a funny movie with the classic cliff hanger ending. And I got so many pictures hung today. Tons of wonderful family pictures now decorating our home. I keep walking into the kids room because it looks so great!
Tonight we're planning on going to the Irving Fireworks show. A friend told me how to park in the parking garage, and see the fireworks. Then I don't have to go down in the crowd with the kids. I don't have to get my feet wet. We'll turn on the radio and listen to the live music that goes with the fireworks. Sounds like a plan to me! More worried about the fireworks getting rained out.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Decorating
This evening me and my son hung art work in the kids' room. I've been slowly printing out pictures they chose to decorate their room. I go in with a hammer and nail, and hand them over to my seven year old boy. I ask him, so the eagle picture needs to go anywhere on these walls, where do you want to put it. He takes the picture, positions it a few places, and finally decides. A few wackes of the hammer later, and he has hung the eagle picture. It is so empowering to see him in control of his space. I can sense the freedom and joy he has. Not only am I letting him loose with a hammer and nail, but I'm giving him control over his personal space. I'm helping him make that personal space something he really enjoys.
Kids really like to have rooms that are fun, and reflect themselves. But they don't know how to do it. I've been helping my kids create that vision of their own beautiful space. And the more things go up in their room, the more they take pride in it. They point to certain pictures, and know they chose them. They see their choices honored in frames, and feel that they are validated.
But today what I was framing was the kids artwork. Some of them are truly amazing. And other pieces I could care less for, but the kids are proud of them. So today I got three of them framed. And my son hung them again. I was so proud of him when I looked at the area. He actually got a really neat arrangement. And I know he feels such pride when he sees his own work framed and hung just like the artistic photos we have. His work is valued as much as those.
This week I'm getting family pictures printed off. This should be really moving as I hang these in the kids room. I'm sure they're going to simply love it!
Kids really like to have rooms that are fun, and reflect themselves. But they don't know how to do it. I've been helping my kids create that vision of their own beautiful space. And the more things go up in their room, the more they take pride in it. They point to certain pictures, and know they chose them. They see their choices honored in frames, and feel that they are validated.
But today what I was framing was the kids artwork. Some of them are truly amazing. And other pieces I could care less for, but the kids are proud of them. So today I got three of them framed. And my son hung them again. I was so proud of him when I looked at the area. He actually got a really neat arrangement. And I know he feels such pride when he sees his own work framed and hung just like the artistic photos we have. His work is valued as much as those.
This week I'm getting family pictures printed off. This should be really moving as I hang these in the kids room. I'm sure they're going to simply love it!
Friday, June 29, 2007
Dating
I've been reading a book on dating. New book, same old topic. How am I, as a single mother, supposed to find the time to date.
Well, I'll worry about that later, because I've got an assignment from this book. For the moment I'm simply keeping a log of how many new eligible men I meet in a week. Probably a big fat zero, but I'll let you know next Friday.
Got to keep a long for two weeks. After that the assignment changes, then I have to meet 5 new eligibles each week. That's going to be rough! Going to have to take full advantage of the singles events, and maybe make sure I truly meet the people at work. I don't know. But I do have to do something if I expect to get a date. For two years I've been technically single, but haven't really had a date. So I've got to change something. Got fish with a different bait.
Well, I'll worry about that later, because I've got an assignment from this book. For the moment I'm simply keeping a log of how many new eligible men I meet in a week. Probably a big fat zero, but I'll let you know next Friday.
Got to keep a long for two weeks. After that the assignment changes, then I have to meet 5 new eligibles each week. That's going to be rough! Going to have to take full advantage of the singles events, and maybe make sure I truly meet the people at work. I don't know. But I do have to do something if I expect to get a date. For two years I've been technically single, but haven't really had a date. So I've got to change something. Got fish with a different bait.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Singing
"Are we doing the acappella portion accapella?"
"Let's try it, please?" I asked. We have practiced this beautiful arrangement of I Stand All Amazed for about 4 weeks. The accapella section on the third verse is a very traditional arrangement. It's simply the voices straight and let loose. After all the odd harmonies and tricky rhythms in other places, it really is the easiest section. Well, it's been the easiest section because Yulia's been playing our parts on the piano.
Gary finally relented saying yes, we'd at least try it accapella, and we dove in. First we soprano's got lost on our descant on the second verse. Billy, our amazing bass singer, professional clarinet player, and band teacher, got off his notes, and messed up in another area. And though we all staid together on the accapella section, we could tell we were all off key when Yulia came back in on piano. In the final run thru the chorus at the end, all the other soprano's died on the high notes leaving only unconfident me searching for that high E.
As the piano died away Crystal let out, "Yulia did a great job on the piano!"
Gary's slight frustration erupted into humor, as we all busted out laughing at the one good thing that could be said. But a few more runs thru, and another bass to back up Billy, and by the end, we actually were sounding pretty good.
**********************************************
"Can you conduct?" Billy forced a hymnal at Gary. "We don't have anybody to play piano so we're just on our own."
Gary nodded, setting down his stuff. The evening scripture study was still filling up, but it was time to get started. "What song are we doing?"
"153," someone interjected. I flipped thru my hymnal, and found myself looking at I Stand all Amazed. I could see Gary's look of surprise as he saw which song it was. I straightened up in my chair, drawing in my long breaths.
Gary gave us our starting notes. I kept my ears tuned on Billy and Gary, keeping in tune with them. The three of us moved in unison, notes tight from over a month of practice on this one number. But the other 20 odd people failed to keep up.
Hmm . . . I'm thinking the choir sounds alot better than we are willing to admit. Maybe the perfectionists (like me) need to admit that this number is really hard and sounds very decent
"Let's try it, please?" I asked. We have practiced this beautiful arrangement of I Stand All Amazed for about 4 weeks. The accapella section on the third verse is a very traditional arrangement. It's simply the voices straight and let loose. After all the odd harmonies and tricky rhythms in other places, it really is the easiest section. Well, it's been the easiest section because Yulia's been playing our parts on the piano.
Gary finally relented saying yes, we'd at least try it accapella, and we dove in. First we soprano's got lost on our descant on the second verse. Billy, our amazing bass singer, professional clarinet player, and band teacher, got off his notes, and messed up in another area. And though we all staid together on the accapella section, we could tell we were all off key when Yulia came back in on piano. In the final run thru the chorus at the end, all the other soprano's died on the high notes leaving only unconfident me searching for that high E.
As the piano died away Crystal let out, "Yulia did a great job on the piano!"
Gary's slight frustration erupted into humor, as we all busted out laughing at the one good thing that could be said. But a few more runs thru, and another bass to back up Billy, and by the end, we actually were sounding pretty good.
**********************************************
"Can you conduct?" Billy forced a hymnal at Gary. "We don't have anybody to play piano so we're just on our own."
Gary nodded, setting down his stuff. The evening scripture study was still filling up, but it was time to get started. "What song are we doing?"
"153," someone interjected. I flipped thru my hymnal, and found myself looking at I Stand all Amazed. I could see Gary's look of surprise as he saw which song it was. I straightened up in my chair, drawing in my long breaths.
Gary gave us our starting notes. I kept my ears tuned on Billy and Gary, keeping in tune with them. The three of us moved in unison, notes tight from over a month of practice on this one number. But the other 20 odd people failed to keep up.
Hmm . . . I'm thinking the choir sounds alot better than we are willing to admit. Maybe the perfectionists (like me) need to admit that this number is really hard and sounds very decent
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Black Holes
I should have posted alot earlier, but it's been a busy day. First the kids had an activity at church. In the afternoon I had a class learning how to make crab ragoons, and wantons. They were so good none of them made it home. And this evening we went to the planetarium.
The planetarium was having "Astro Day." Tickets were discounted, and some local astronomers brought in telescopes to look at the sky. We actually got to look at the sun, which was neat. But the highlight was really the show at the planetarium.
We saw a show on Black Holes, and it was very well done. For half the show I had the sensation of movement. There is nothing to describe a planetarium show, it is amazing. I think sometimes I was paying more attention to the amazing show than to what was being said. The discussion was really good, but it paled in comparison to what was being shown to us. For the most part the kids were totally entranced. I looked over at my daughter. She was curled up in her seat, sucking her thumb, face rapt with attention.
On the way home I asked the kids some questions. I was a little stunned by how much they could tell me. My daughter gave an excellent definition of Black Holes, and my son could describe in some detail how they affected things. My son talked and talked about the presentation. Normally my daughter is the verbal kid, but when something captures my son's full attention, he breaks into an amazing gush of speech. And that was him this evening. Black Holes this, Black Holes that, they tear the atoms right out of your body, and even squeeze the atoms down until they EXPLODE!
The planetarium was having "Astro Day." Tickets were discounted, and some local astronomers brought in telescopes to look at the sky. We actually got to look at the sun, which was neat. But the highlight was really the show at the planetarium.
We saw a show on Black Holes, and it was very well done. For half the show I had the sensation of movement. There is nothing to describe a planetarium show, it is amazing. I think sometimes I was paying more attention to the amazing show than to what was being said. The discussion was really good, but it paled in comparison to what was being shown to us. For the most part the kids were totally entranced. I looked over at my daughter. She was curled up in her seat, sucking her thumb, face rapt with attention.
On the way home I asked the kids some questions. I was a little stunned by how much they could tell me. My daughter gave an excellent definition of Black Holes, and my son could describe in some detail how they affected things. My son talked and talked about the presentation. Normally my daughter is the verbal kid, but when something captures my son's full attention, he breaks into an amazing gush of speech. And that was him this evening. Black Holes this, Black Holes that, they tear the atoms right out of your body, and even squeeze the atoms down until they EXPLODE!
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Flood Pictures
235556
Originally uploaded by Sunflower Central
This is a picture I took of the creek. After church I went back to the park with my camera to capture this sight. The flooding was actually wide spread over much of North Texas. Our own county has been declared a disaster area. Just a few miles west of this homes were washed away in the flood.
PS, I'm experimenting with the hyperlink between my pictures and my blog. Combing two of my addictive behaviors! OOOHHH Fun!
Flooding
On Sunday a morning downpour caused an amazing flood. Before Sunday the only floods I had really seen were on TV. This summer has been wetter than average. By a long shot. I remember a two week period where it rained every day. We had tornado sirens going off about once a week. The result is our soil has become saturated. And the downpours we get now are causing flooding.
As we drove home from church, I saw that the creek we drive over had flooded it's banks. It was within inches of reaching the road, but the rain had stopped. This same creek I pass over on my way to work. On Monday as I drove in I saw it was still at high flood stage. But by Monday evening when I drove back, the road was closed. I believe it was the rabbit in the snake effect. As the water came down stream it piled up in places, and then caused more flooding. My 20 minute drive home instead became a 1 1/2 hour drive.
As we drove home from church, I saw that the creek we drive over had flooded it's banks. It was within inches of reaching the road, but the rain had stopped. This same creek I pass over on my way to work. On Monday as I drove in I saw it was still at high flood stage. But by Monday evening when I drove back, the road was closed. I believe it was the rabbit in the snake effect. As the water came down stream it piled up in places, and then caused more flooding. My 20 minute drive home instead became a 1 1/2 hour drive.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
New addiction
I've developed a new addiction. It's nearly as bad as blogging. It's called flick.com. I'm a photo junkie.
I'm an addict. I spend as many waking hours on that website as I can. I post my own photos, and gather photos I like. And I'm trying to get as many people addicted to it as I can.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/8542905@N07/
Please, look at my photos! You can even browse the one's I've marked as favorite. Come share my latest and greatest addiction. It's terribly fulfilling.
I'm an addict. I spend as many waking hours on that website as I can. I post my own photos, and gather photos I like. And I'm trying to get as many people addicted to it as I can.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/8542905@N07/
Please, look at my photos! You can even browse the one's I've marked as favorite. Come share my latest and greatest addiction. It's terribly fulfilling.
Learning
Tonight I arrived at the babysitters house to a wonderful sight. Her twelve year old daughter was curled up on the couch with an astronomy book, a kitten wrapped into her shoulder. I don't know if she was reading or studying the pictures, but she was focused on the book. In the school corner was my son, and the babysitters 9 year old daughter. These two should be siblings. They have the same temperament, and get along wonderfully. That is, except when the two of them decide to cause trouble, then they are an unholy duo! But today they were studying some papers on Egyptian Hieroglyphics. They were trying to write everyone's name in Egyptian. And my six year old daughter was upstairs playing with something.
It was just a beautiful sight to walk into. Especially because I was heavily involved in planning for homeschooling this year. My babysitter and I made an agreement. I planned out the lessons for her, and she agreed to teach them. It has been a wonderful arrangement for both of us. She has none of the pressure to find material at the same time that she's trying to teach. And I had the freedom to plan to my heart's content, with none of the follow thru of teaching.
I love these moments when I walk in, and see all the kids really enjoying what I planned. I see my babysitter beaming because her girls are learning, and happy. She is happy because she didn't have to spend hours tracking down the websites and worksheets. Instead she was able to enjoy the children, and enjoy helping them develop. And I know that I'm a part of my children's day. They know that I planned these things for them.
My son took me over the astronomy mural they made. He pointed out Saturn and said he coloured it. The babysitter said actually he taught most of the lesson. He knew all the planet names, and knew facts about them, knew more than her girls. It was an excellent moment for him to shine, and the older kids learned from him. I'm so proud of him.
Another time she told me, the 12 year old girl taught one of the lessons. She guided the younger children thru an educational website, reading things out loud, and explaining things. Group learning at it's best. I love seeing my children learn like these. They are so excited and hungry for knowledge.
It was just a beautiful sight to walk into. Especially because I was heavily involved in planning for homeschooling this year. My babysitter and I made an agreement. I planned out the lessons for her, and she agreed to teach them. It has been a wonderful arrangement for both of us. She has none of the pressure to find material at the same time that she's trying to teach. And I had the freedom to plan to my heart's content, with none of the follow thru of teaching.
I love these moments when I walk in, and see all the kids really enjoying what I planned. I see my babysitter beaming because her girls are learning, and happy. She is happy because she didn't have to spend hours tracking down the websites and worksheets. Instead she was able to enjoy the children, and enjoy helping them develop. And I know that I'm a part of my children's day. They know that I planned these things for them.
My son took me over the astronomy mural they made. He pointed out Saturn and said he coloured it. The babysitter said actually he taught most of the lesson. He knew all the planet names, and knew facts about them, knew more than her girls. It was an excellent moment for him to shine, and the older kids learned from him. I'm so proud of him.
Another time she told me, the 12 year old girl taught one of the lessons. She guided the younger children thru an educational website, reading things out loud, and explaining things. Group learning at it's best. I love seeing my children learn like these. They are so excited and hungry for knowledge.
Saturday, June 9, 2007
Happiness and Sand Paper
Needless to say, since yesterday I've been a whirl of emotions. Most of them have been good emotions.
I've been surprised at how different I feel. One of the most profound differences I feel is about the dating scene. Before the divorce was final, I thought alot about dating. I wanted to date, and felt hungry to. Now instead I feel content. I'm ready to be me, and enjoy my life. I've got my own plans and I'm busy doing them.
I've been redecorating the house, sprucing up the image really. It feels even more like home. I've been investing alot into my "welcome" area. We share a porch with our neighbor, so there is a limited amount of things I can do. But I found a small shelving unit out by the dumpster. It's in pretty sad shape, so I thought it would be great as an outdoor piece. I've got a couple of outdoor art pieces now set on it. And I realized that the wooden shelf looks weird with all the french style metal buckets I have. So tonight I picked up some shiny metallic paint at Home Depot. Gotta sand the bugger down, and paint it. I feel like my mother! In my parents house my dad is the wonderful cook, and my mom repaints furniture.
I'm not communicating this very well. I feel free, and settled. I'm happy. I feel single, and my family is complete. I'm trying to say that I'm investing my energy into making a better home for me and my kids. I'm not waiting around for my ship to come in; I'm making my future happen right here and now.
So tomorrow, sand paper, and shelving unit, here I come! It's my future. Instead of grabbing any bull by the horns, I'm grabbin' me some sand paper and paint, and blazing forward!
I've been surprised at how different I feel. One of the most profound differences I feel is about the dating scene. Before the divorce was final, I thought alot about dating. I wanted to date, and felt hungry to. Now instead I feel content. I'm ready to be me, and enjoy my life. I've got my own plans and I'm busy doing them.
I've been redecorating the house, sprucing up the image really. It feels even more like home. I've been investing alot into my "welcome" area. We share a porch with our neighbor, so there is a limited amount of things I can do. But I found a small shelving unit out by the dumpster. It's in pretty sad shape, so I thought it would be great as an outdoor piece. I've got a couple of outdoor art pieces now set on it. And I realized that the wooden shelf looks weird with all the french style metal buckets I have. So tonight I picked up some shiny metallic paint at Home Depot. Gotta sand the bugger down, and paint it. I feel like my mother! In my parents house my dad is the wonderful cook, and my mom repaints furniture.
I'm not communicating this very well. I feel free, and settled. I'm happy. I feel single, and my family is complete. I'm trying to say that I'm investing my energy into making a better home for me and my kids. I'm not waiting around for my ship to come in; I'm making my future happen right here and now.
So tomorrow, sand paper, and shelving unit, here I come! It's my future. Instead of grabbing any bull by the horns, I'm grabbin' me some sand paper and paint, and blazing forward!
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