UPDATE: SOME @ISD833 Budget Cuts Tabled

We the people were heard. 

South Washington County School District 833 has determined to delay almost half of the proposed budget cuts.  Engagement of the public was part of the deciding factor for the decision to delay the cuts.  However, the district still intends to increase class sizes by cutting 25.5 FTEs and eliminate World Language from the elementary schools. 



Total Proposed Adjumstments

The District is also in the planning stages of coming to the community and asking for a levy increase - as they said repeatedly at the Budget Conversations, we are "$900/student below the state levy cap" and that, to them, just is UNACCEPTABLE since that is WAY below neighboring district spend on their schools. 



Proposal of Future Operating Levy Referendum

Anecdotal evidence, however, shows that those neighboring school districts, while at the levy cap still are struggling - somehow, even though they are at the approx $1500/student spending, they still have overcrowded classrooms - as many as 37 elementary students in a class has been reported by parents in some neighboring districts and program cuts. So who is to say that if District 833 reaches the cap that they will not have the same problems?  It seems that with a budget of approximately $225million/year the issue is not the amount of money received, but a SPENDING issue within the district and it is doubtful that the programs/teachers/etc. being proposed to be cut are the true reason for the overspending.

It would seem, since this has happened in the past, that District 833's tactics are once again to lead the people to believe that they are absolutely broke, then threaten to cut programs and services that are near and dear to the people's hearts, then "delay" those cuts in order to coerce the community into giving them what they really want: an approved referendum.

So, people, please do not go back to sleep.  We need to be asking for a line item budget that will give a clear picture of exactly why District 833 has found itself in the predicament it is in and then fix that problem. 

Call your Board Members and ask them to please continue to be diligent in their search for answers. Ask them to insist on receiving a line item budget before they make any more decisions regarding the budget or a levy referendum.  Remind them that they are the elected officials - put in place to be the voices of the people.

 School Board Contact Info:

Kath, Ron

School Board Chair

651-769-0291

rkath@sowashco.k12.mn.us

Schwartz, Katie

School Board Clerk

651-347-7656

kschwart5@sowashco.k12.mn.us

Johnson, Laurie

School Board Director

651-387-0427

ljohnson1@sowashco.k12.mn.us

McElwee-Stevens, Kathleen

School Board Director

651-459-5411

kmcelwee@sowashco.k12.mn.us

Witte, Michelle

School Board Director

651-402-3184

mwitte@sowashco.k12.mn.us

Van Leer, Sharon

School Board Treasurer

651-202-3848

svanleer@sowashco.k12.mn.us

Brunnette, Tracy

School Board Vice-Chair

651-321-8449

tbrunnet@sowashco.k12.mn.us

Celebrating Fathers

Father's Day is right around the corner.  With that in mind, I'd like to take a moment and get a little personal.

SwimGirl graduated from high school last weekend.  Because her dad lives several states away, we planned her graduation party for the day before the ceremony, so he could join in on the weekend's festivities.  The morning of the party, SwimGirl's dad, IT Guy, picked her up for breakfast.  My neighbor happened to be outside when IT Guy came by, and asked me if it was an awkward situation for us - having IT Guy here and involved with the festivities.  I didn't have to think long for my response, "No," I answered, "We've been divorced for many years.  At first it was hard: adjusting to sharing the kids, scheduling and getting past what drove us apart in the first place. But, fortunately, we figured out how to make it work." He was surprised by my answer, since his own personal experiences with family divorce has not been very positive.  I totally understand this as my own parents divorced when I was a young adult; we've all adjusted for the most part, but holidays can get a little stressful because of the family rifts.

It is because of our own experiences with divorced parents that has led IT Guy, The Man of the House and I to do our best to be flexible and accommodating with SwimGirl and TBone.  When parents divorce, the stress and pain is not felt only by the couple splitting up, but by the children as well.  When parents forget that the kids are also in pain and/or use their kids as pawns, it only creates more pain and havoc in an already potentially devastating period in the children's lives.  If one is unable to separate the reasons for the divorce from the kids, the kids are the ones who ultimately pay the price of the failure in the marriage.

Ironically, it was The Man of the House who taught me this fact.  He came into our lives when SwimGirl and TBone were still quite young, and tried very hard to let IT Guy know that he was there as a bonus parent, not as a person trying to take over IT Guy's job as "Dad." There were times, early on, when IT Guy and I were unable to communicate without animosity; it was during those times when the three of us would have to attend TBone's hockey games together and TMotH would stand between us, talking to both of us, but also providing a buffer - a sort of "No Man's Land" in human form.  Because he was willing to be that neutral person, IT Guy and I were able to present a civilized front to the children, something they desperately needed to see their parents do.  The kids also were able to see that even though IT Guy and I couldn't make it as a married couple, our love for them, our involvement in their activities, and our presence together in their lives would not change.  It takes a strong man to do what TMotH did for us and the kids.  He taught us how to get along by his example of being willing to not take sides and get along with both of us for the kids' sake.

There are those people who are quick to criticize those of us who have experienced failure in marriage; as though somehow that failure represents some kind of moral incapability or character deficit or an inability to understand the gravity of the marriage vows.  The sad thing is, that criticism is nothing compared to what a divorcee` feels or tells his/herself about their divorce.  No one can beat up a divorced person more than that person has already done to themselves.  For a person like myself, who detests failure so much that they will not even attempt something if failure is an option, divorce represents the ultimate failure and can take many years to understand what went wrong and how things could have been different.  No one can beat me up more than I have beaten myself up over the years because of this "failure." Self-righteous attitudes toward divorce is not what a person going through that experience needs; love and understanding goes much further and can help lead that person to healing and potentially the ability to start new - either with the first marriage or with someone else someday.

Back to fathers:  What I experienced this weekend was a good outcome from my own personal first marriage failure.  Where some kids only have one parent or both parents present to celebrate the achievement of their high school graduation, SwimGirl had three doting parents happy to cheer her accomplishment.  SwimGirl and TBone have benefited from having two parents AND two bonus parents in their lives.  Without TMotH, TBone would have probably never played hockey - TMotH is the one who originally bought him skates and took him out to the rink for the first time, marveling at TBone's balance and almost instantaneous acclimation to the feeling of blades on his feet.  Without TMotH, SwimGirl would not have had the opportunity to try different activities before finding that swimming was her talent and passion.  Without the support of IT Guy, the kids wouldn't have been able to continue those activities due to financial constraints.  Unlike many separated families, I cannot complain that IT Guy has not done well by his kids financially.  He's never been late, never missed a child support payment, has always made sure they had health insurance, and even when he moved hundreds of miles away, he always did his best to be part of his kids' lives.  Because of him, the kids have experienced things and visited places I would have never been able to show them.  Because of him, TBone has learned how to fix computers and be my own personal Techie here at home.  Because of him, SwimGirl had an early start with computers and will be taking that knowledge with her to college to pursue a degree either in graphic design or architecture.  Her passion for architecture was also nurtured by IT Guy and the trips he took the kids on - showing them cities and buildings that do not exist in the Midwest.

Recently, Kathleen Parker wrote a column titled "Say it. Go ahead, say it! 'Father'" in which she discusses the fact that even with more women becoming the sole breadwinner in the home, which is causing some people to question whether women need men at all, that we do indeed need fathers in the family unit.  Not only that, but that fathers should be celebrated.  I couldn't agree with Ms. Parker more.  In our home, TMotH is often away, building powerlines or restoring power after storms; leaving me as the sole caretaker of our four children.  I've learned to be very self-sufficient, accomplishing tasks that earlier in my life I'd have never known I could do on my own.  It is a humbling experience to be the single caregiver; I've had to learn to ask for help when my pride is screaming, "NO! I CAN do this on my own!" There have been times when the trials of raising teenagers become too much for one person to handle, so calling IT Guy and asking for his assistance has been necessary.  There has not been a time when I've called him and asked for his help in something where he hasn't shown sympathy for the situation - has stepped in and said, "Don't make me have to get on a plane and fly up there!" something for which I am eternally grateful.

No matter how self-sufficient we as women get, no matter all the technology and social safety nets we have to be able to raise children on our own, there will not be a time when children do not need a father-figure - their biological dad, a step-dad, a grandpa, uncle or even a great male friend - in their lives.  Girls learn what it means to be a woman by the way the male-figure in their lives treat them and the women around them, just as boys learn what it means to be a man from how their mothers and other women around them treat them.  Boys need men to teach them how to be men and how to treat the women in their lives just as girls need women to do the same for them.  Feminism should not be something that becomes women accomplishing goals to the exclusion of needing men in their lives; it should be a means of equal pay for equal work and an appreciation for the roles that both sexes play in society and in the family unit.

This weekend showed me that even though IT Guy and I failed at our marriage (something that occurred when we were both very young and had a lot of growing left to do, including finishing college and all the stress that comes with that while holding a household together and raising a young family), that the outcome did not have to be one of failure as well.  Even though we were unable to complete our journey together under the same roof, our children need not suffer adversely because of our inability to make things work between us.  The proof of that fact was evident on Saturday night when IT Guy, TMotH and I sat together, with friends and relatives, chatting like the old friends we now are, basking in the pride of our daughter's tremendous accomplishment: finishing high school and preparing to set off on her own life's adventure starting with a scholarship to a Division I school and ending wherever her talents and dreams can take her.

Updated 6/6/13 11:12am

Cherish Life

I've never been in a tornado.  One time, as a kid, we were on a family vacation in the ol' station wagon and witnessed several tornadoes dropping down, then disappearing back into the clouds as we drove down the highway.  Another time, as a 20-something, on the way home from St. Cloud, my friend and I witnessed a tornado as it hit the town of Monticello one summer evening.  There have been storms when the sky turned green and ominous, the sirens screamed, so we dashed with the kids to the basement, cursing our decision to use Dish Network, since the signal is always lost in storms.  In the summer of '96, I awoke for what seemed to be no reason, looked out the window and watched the US flag outside the local school stand stiff in the wind.  I woke up my husband, jumped out of bed and grabbed my little toddler girl.  We ran to the basement as our house was pelted with rain and debris caught up in the high mph straight-line winds.  We looked for any information on the TV, but once the storm crossed the St. Croix river, the Twin Cities' news stations stopped covering the storm.  The next day, the damage was terrible - whole roofs had been torn off houses and a grocery store, garage doors destroyed, windows broken, litter everywhere.  A line of cars traveled down our streets with gawking "disaster tourists" staring out the windows.  But, our house remained standing,  and the three of us were safe and sound.

Action News 5 - Memphis, Tennessee

The devastation caused by the huge tornado in Moore, Oklahoma is a reminder of how quickly our lives can change.  It reminds us how precious and fragile life is - how unpredictable a "normal" day can be.  My heart breaks for the families who lost loved ones, especially those mamas and daddies who kissed their little ones goodbye that day without a thought that those little people may not be returning home that night.  The survivor stories are ones of courage, bravery, and selflessness.  How those parents whose children made it through the storm must be thankful for their families being spared the heartache of others', while also wondering why they were spared and others were not - how does one get over that "survivor guilt"? How does one comfort those parents who's children are still missing - praying for them to be found alive?

It is times like this when Americans show their toughness and generosity - in the coming days, more stories of bravery and heroism will come out, as well as stories of the kindnesses of strangers.  It is times like these that we forget what makes us different from one another, and remember that we are all Americans - countrymen/women - and will help one another in these times of need.

Glenn Beck and a crew of people headed to Oklahoma last night with two trailer-loads of supplies and offers to help the victims of the tragedy.  Please go to his charitable website, MercuryOne, to donate to the 2013 Midwest Tornado Relief fund.  At this time, over $500,000 has already been raised, but the scope of the devastation shows that much more will be needed to help the communities working to rebuild.

We must come together and help one another in times of need.  Please help out by donating what you can.

No Investigation by School Board into Black Panthers Honoring Incident

Thomas Sowell says it well:

There are many people in South Washington County School District 833 who seem to agree. Just read the comments following the blog posts about East Ridge High School honoring the Black Panthers for the evidence.

One of the parents who complained to the school board finally received a call back from School Board Member Ron Kath.  He was the member who said that they were investigating the incidence at the last meeting.  Apparently control-freak Superintendent Dr. Jacobus got to Mr. Kath later because now he is agreeing with the Superintendent that the incident was "student-led and misunderstood." Thanks, Mr. Kath, for doing your job and remembering that YOU and the other Board members are Dr. Jacobus's BOSSES, NOT the other way around.  Pathetic.

Why Elephants Don’t Chew Gum

There once was a little elephant named “Ellie”.  Ellie was a very good little elephant who tried to always do what her mama told her.  But, Ellie was also a very curious little elephant, so she also asked her mama “why” a lot.  Sometimes, even after her mama answered her question in a very kind and patient way, Ellie still needed to find out the answer for herself.

One day, Mama called Ellie in from the yard:  “Ellie, come in please, we are going to the grocery store.”

“Why?” Ellie answered as she continued to push her baby elephant in a stroller around the yard.

“We need to buy yummy peanuts, hay and chocolate milk,” Mama answered as she gathered her coupons, grocery list and tucked them into her purse.

“Okay, Mama.” Ellie put her baby and stroller away, went into the house and picked up her little pink purse.

As Ellie and Mama strolled to the store, Ellie saw lots of things that made her curious.

“Why is that leopard wearing a yellow hat?” She asked.

“See the big brim? It keeps the sun out of her eyes,” Mama replied.

“Why do people ride in cars but we have to walk, Mama?”

“Because we are too big to ride in cars, Ellie.”

“Why is the sky blue? Why is the sun so bright? Why are some houses big and some houses little?”

Mama kindly and patiently answered each of Ellie’s questions so Ellie could learn about her world.

As they neared the grocery store, Ellie saw a little girl blowing a great big pink bubble-gum bubble.

“Oh, Mama! I want to blow great big pink bubbles, too!” Ellie cried as she watched the little girl’s bubble grow.

“No, Ellie, elephants don’t chew gum.”

“But why, Mama?  Why don’t elephants chew gum?” Ellie asked.  Mama’s mind was on the list she held in her trunk, so she didn’t answer Ellie.

“Mama,” Ellie said again, “Why don’t elephants chew gum?”  All the way to the store, Mama had kindly and patiently answered all of Ellie’s questions, but now she was feeling a little bit tired, so she said firmly, “Elephants DON’T chew gum, Ellie.”

“But, Mama, why?  Can I buy some gum? Please Mama?  I want to blow a big bubble, too!” Ellie whined.  Mama didn’t like it when Ellie sounded whiney.  Giving Ellie her “Mom Eyes” look, she said, “Absolutely not.  Elephants DON’T chew gum.” And then she walked into the store.

Ellie knew better than to ask any more questions after Mama had given her the “Mom Eyes”, but it didn’t stop her from pouting and walking very slowly behind Mama in the store.

Shuffling her big elephant feet, she followed Mama as they finally made it to the check-out.  Staring at the floor she thought “I wish I could have some gum.  I’d show Mama that elephants DO chew gum!”  Just then, Ellie saw a quarter lying on the floor right at the end of her trunk.

Quickly, Ellie glanced up at Mama and saw that she was busy chatting with the Rhino in the check-out next to her.  Slowly, Ellie reached her trunk out and picked the quarter up.  Then she edged past Mama and scooted toward the gumball and mini-toy machines at the end of the check-out aisles.

“Ellie, where are you going?” Mama asked her as Ellie slipped past.

“I just want to look at the toys, Mama,“ Ellie lied.  She knew she shouldn’t lie, but she had to buy a gumball!  Quickly, Ellie slipped the quarter into the gumball machine and turned the knob.  A big blue gumball popped out.  Ellie snatched the gumball and quickly tucked it into her little purse, just as Mama said, “Come on, Ellie, time to go.”

All the way home, Ellie thought about the big blue gumball hidden in her purse.  She knew Mama would be sad that Ellie had disobeyed and lied, but Ellie was so excited to get home and try to blow a bubble that she pushed her guilt way down deep and just thought about the fun she was going to have.

When they arrived home, Ellie helped Mama put away the groceries.  Then she went outside to play.

Looking at the house, she checked to make sure Mama wasn’t watching, then she tip-toed around the backyard shed and pulled the gumball out of her purse, “Now I’ll show Mama that elephants DO chew gum!” she thought as she popped the gumball into her mouth.

The gumball was hard and sweet.  Ellie smacked and chewed (and drooled a little too) until it was a gooey mess in her mouth.  She tried to blow a bubble like the little girl at the store, but it wouldn’t work – no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get a bubble to form.

She stuck the end of her trunk into her mouth to adjust the gum.  As she pulled it out, the gum stuck to her trunk – creating a long gum-string that went from her mouth to the tip of her trunk.  She put her trunk back into her mouth and tried to scrape the gum off on her little tusks.  Instead, two more long gum-strings formed! 

Reaching her trunk down, she tried to wipe the strings off with her toes, but more strings formed.  She tried to throw the gum, but only got another string stuck on a branch above her.  She shook her trunk and more gum stuck to her big ears.  She shook her whole body and stomped in a circle – gum stuck in her eyelashes all the way to the wisp of hair on her tail.  She was COVERED in gum.

Then she heard Mama:

“Ellie?  Ellie!  Where are you?”  She wanted to answer Mama, but the gum held her mouth glued shut.  “ELLIE!” Mama called.

“Mama!” Ellie tried to say, but it came out sounding like “Mmmhmmh.”

“ELLIE! COME HERE NOW!” 

Ellie’s big eyes filled with tears as she tried to answer again, “mmMhmmm!”

She heard the backdoor slam as Mama came out of the house.

“Ellie, Where are you?” 

“Hm, ombr hmmm, Mmmmhmmm!” Ellie replied and tried to move, but the gum had her stuck, stuck, STUCK.

She heard Mama’s footsteps drawing nearer.

“Mmmhmmm! Mhhemlp!” She tried to say, wiggling her big rump and doing a little dance.

“Ellie?  What are you doing?” Mama said as she rounded the shed.  Her big eyes got even bigger when she saw Ellie covered in gum and stuck to a tree.  “Where did you get that gum?” She asked as she reached up and pulled the gum away from the tree.

“Mhat mm mdorem,” Ellie tried to answer, as big crocodile tears streamed down her gray wrinkled gum-covered cheeks and dripped off her trunk.

“I can’t understand you,” Mama answered as she kept gently pulling gum off of Ellie.  Finally, Mama managed to get enough gum removed so that Ellie could move out from behind the shed.

Still crying, Ellie followed her Mama and let her use the hose to clean the gum from her tusks, trunk, toes and tail.  Using her soft trunk, Mama gently cleaned the gum out of Ellie’s eyelashes.  When the gum was all off Ellie’s body, Mama put a garbage can in front of Ellie so she could spit the little bit of gum still in her mouth into the can.

Then Mama looked at Ellie and said, “Now you know why elephants don’t chew gum.”

Ellie sobbed and said, “I’m sorry, Mama! I’m sorry I lied.  I’m sorry I didn’t listen! I’ll never ever do it again, Mama! I promise!”

Mama wrapped her trunk around Ellie as she whispered to her, “I know you won’t, sweet baby.  I love you.” And together they started walking toward the house.

Just then, a boy on roller skates rolled by, Ellie saw him and said, “Ooooo, Mama! I want to roller skate!”

“No, Ellie, elephants DON’T roller skate.”

“Why?” Ellie answered as together they walked into the house.

~ The End ~

Sandy Hook Tragedy

I almost had a panic attack this morning. It isn't that unusual, truthfully, since we're almost always running late and getting the four kids out the door can be crazy, especially combined with a dose of talk radio - all those factors can make me feel the need to curl up and rock myself like the little monkeys on the videos shown in Psychology 101.  Today's feeling was different.  Today I found myself hugging my kids closer and for longer and giving them more kisses and telling them "I love you," as I sent them out the door. Especially Buttercup.  Buttercup is 6 years old. Buttercup is the same age and in the same grade of the little ones killed on Friday at Sandy Hook Elementary.

I spent Friday morning at my daughters' elementary school.  A group of parents had volunteered to prep mountains of fleece for the four third grade classes to make into blankets for some homeless shelters in St. Paul. What I had expected to take about an hour ended up taking three as we evened out edges and cut the "ties" into yards and yards of fleece.  Conversations between strangers, brought together by our kids, ranged from the silly to the deep - like conversations often do when a large group of women are tossed in together on a project.  It was a lighthearted morning with lots of laughter ending with the fleece ready for the little third graders' fingers today.  My knees are still sore from kneeling on the floor to trim the edges of numerous would-be blankets.  I chatted with the office admin  for a bit after we were finished.  She's been part of our elementary school as long as I can remember - SwimGirl started there in 2nd grade and is graduating this year, so we've had at least one child at the school for ten years now - and is probably one of the best elementary school admins I've ever known.  The school principal was also in and out - popping into our conference-room-turned-workroom to check in and chatting with parents as they moved through the office.  The school is warm, inviting and staffed by absolutely wonderful teachers, paraprofessionals and administrators; we've loved our years at "our school."

When I got home, I received a text message from SwimGirl telling me about the shooting at Sandy Hook. Instead of turning on FoxNews, I went to my laptop and checked the news online.  My heart hurt and tears filled my eyes as I read the news.  The question going through my head continually was "Why? How could anyone kill little babies like this?" which I know was the question being asked by us all.  Then the news broke about the ages of the children and I realized that they were Buttercup's age, causing the tears to flow again.  I looked at our Christmas tree and thought about how there were children who wouldn't be opening their gifts, so lovingly wrapped and placed under the tree by their parents, on Christmas morning.  My heart broke for the parents and siblings of the lost children.  Then I started thinking about the terror of the surviving children - how will they ever go back to school without fear?  Will they ever face a night where there are no nightmares to invade their slumber?  Will they forever be looking at people, wondering if that person or that person or the one standing over there is actually someone bad who wants to kill them?  How will they heal?

So, as I was sending my little girls to the bus, I caught myself clinging to them more tightly and having trouble letting them go.  I found myself almost not sending them to school today.  I know the school staff have regular emergency drills (I've participated in them as a volunteer) and procedures in place in the case of something horrible happening.  Logically, I know these things.  But my heart is another story. My heart tells me "This is a place where my kids should be safe.  But they're not safe.  Those parents thought their kids were safe at school and look what happened." So I clung to my kids a little more than usual this morning, regretting the days when I couldn't wait to see them all out the door and the house to be quiet for a few hours again.  I can't imagine the heavy quiet at the homes of the victims of Friday's tragedy.  I can't imagine a home where the anticipation of chaos isn't always hanging in the air until the chaos of my four wonderful kids invades my house.

My heart hurts for the parents and families of those poor children and the adults who died trying to protecting them.  My prayers are with them.

Swim Meet Rules of Etiquette

MNHockeyMama's Swim Meet Rules of Etiquette

1. Never ever block other parents' view of the pool.  If you cannot find a seat, then please, at the very minimum, kneel down or sit on the steps in order to remove your fat butt from obstructing the view of the pool.  (If you choose to stand in front of me and block my view, you can be sure that you will be told to sit down. Arguing with me and swearing at me will only serve to make you look more foolish. Most swim parents are pretty laid back and as Minnesotans, are more likely to whisper with one another about their irritation with you. Not me. I am a hockeymama at heart and have no problem telling you "SIT DOWN.")

2. When the sign states: "No Parents Allowed on the Pool Deck," that is exactly what it means.  No coach wants a helicopter parent hovering near little Billy, making sure that he knows to put on his goggles before he steps up on the block. 

3. Saving seats: STOP IT. The meet is four hours long. Your child will swim maybe about five minutes of those four hours. Find a seat, watch your child swim and leave. There are places to hang out at every swim meet outside of the pool area.  It is not necessary for you to watch every event of every meet just because you are worried you will lose your "prime" seat in the bleachers.  If you choose to put a blanket, jacket or other personal items on a five foot section of the bleachers in case you do leave or your "friends/kids/parents" finally choose to show up, don't expect other people to respect that "reserved area" and not push blankets/jackets/personal items aside when they need a place to sit for the few minutes they are in the pool area to watch their own children.

4. Swearing at all, but especially at someone kindly (loudly) telling you to sit down, is absolutely forbidden.

5. Memorizing your child's best times is encouraged. Memorizing the best times of all the kids in his/her age group is creepy.

6. Cheering for your child and/or their relay team is also encouraged. Cheering, screaming and loudly proclaiming that your child's relay team just "Obliterated the record for ___________ event for 9-10 year olds" is also creepy.

7. Talking with other parents about swimming and other topics is encouraged. Talking loudly to other parents or on your cell phone about surgical procedures, bodily functions, gossip about other parents, etc. is wrong and shouldn't happen.

8. Getting antisocial toward other parents when they discuss topics with which you disagree should be discussed, i.e. politics/religion, and insisting on horning in on their discussion to voice your disapproval will cause you to be ostracized from the other team parents and therefore is discouraged.

9. Talking loudly during the start is forbidden. Respect the swimmers need for quiet so they can actually hear the start.

10. Talking smack about the other swimmers on your child's relay because they didn't perform as well as you think they should have is very wrong and therefore, forbidden.

11. Encouraging friendly competition between swimmers on the same team to get them to do their best is good. Asking other parents how their child swam ______ event only so that you can "one up them" by bragging about your child's massive time drop is rude.

12. Encouraging your child to cheer on teammates is strongly recommended. Condoning your child telling their teammate "good job" when he/she knows his/her teammate didn't come near a best time in ________ event, so that he/she can be smug about his/her own performance is in poor taste and is strictly forbidden.

13. There are no "Refs" in swimming, only "Officials." Yelling at the Official for disqualifying your child is never okay.

14. Do not show up to a 6am warm-up dressed like you just came off the pages of Vogue. Comfortable clothes are acceptable and encouraged. (Pajama pants are strongly encouraged.)

Random Thoughts

12.5 inches of snow fell on my house over the weekend. It's great that we'll have a white Christmas. Hopefully we'll get a January thaw on the 2nd and all the snow will melt.

Receiving one of my kid's grades recently made me realize how strongly I feel about failure. Basically, I believe that failure isn't an option. I believe that so strongly that I won't even start something if I feel like there's a chance that I might fail in my attempt to succeed.  (This is good in some ways but has also caused me to miss out on trying something new because my fear of failure is so bad.) Unfortunately for my daughter, she's having to come to the same understanding the hard way.  Nothing like having to crack down on a kid the last Christmas she'll be home before she starts college next year.  The frustration I'm feeling as parent is unbelievable. The saddest part is that she doesn't seem to get that she's the one with the power here: follow my plan and privileges will come back; fight it and suffer the extended consequences.  Sometimes having to be a good parent really stinks. (I'm naturally a forgiving person; I prefer to get whatever issue is there out in the open, talk about it - sometimes really loudly - and let it go. Or just sort of forget about it.  So having to follow through on consequences for an extended period of time is really hard.  Especially when my child looks at me with her big brown eyes full of tears.  However, the tears will be forgotten when she opens her mouth and says something totally irresponsible and out-of-line.  That's what's helping me continue with her consequences. Still hard to do, though.)

How is it possible to lose a book in my own house? Oh hey, there it is. Right next to me. Good grief.

Made a double batch of rosettes today. The oil got to the smoking point. Now my house smells like a giant fish fry. I'm not sure if it is a good or bad sign that I didn't set off the smoke alarms.  The rosettes, however, ROCK.

15 days left til Christmas.  Even with our house Griswolded out and the tree (the prettiest tree ever, btw, even though it has a slight case of scoliosis and seems to be doing a peepee dance) is up and decorated and all the white crappy snow on the ground, it doesn't seem like it is really Christmas time yet.  Maybe I need to get more face time with the Hallmark channel movies?

Speaking of Hallmark Channel Christmas movies: I watched one with Tbone over the weekend.  He was scoffing at it at first.  Then he got into it. He was amazed by my powers of prediction - I was telling him what was going to happen (hadn't seen the movie before, I swear!) and he was shocked when I was right.  I then had to explain to him that the Hallmark movies basically follow a formula that begins with two people meeting, falling in love, having their love tested in some way, then ultimately getting married, usually about 2 weeks after they meet and usually on Christmas Day.  Even with all that, he still liked the movie.  I love it that my 16 year old son is still sweet and innocent enough to not have become jaded and cynical yet.  Which can't be said about all kids his age.  For example, I perused my daughter's friends' Twitter posts the other day and discovered that the boy with whom she was supposed to go to the last dance is a very sick-minded individual.  (The fact that her grades caused her to be grounded and unable to attend the dance with the disgusting boy was one little glimmer of happiness for my husband and I in what is a very unhappy situation.  Now if the attraction wears off during her time of groundation, life will be very good.) It does make me wonder what is going on with my daughter's head that would cause her to be attracted to this boy, too.

What would cause kids to think that using the n-word or the c-word in their tweets is acceptable behavior? Is it possible that they don't understand that unless their account is protected that ANYONE can read their tweets? Honestly, I don't get it.  I'm waiting for his next tweet to be Anthony Wiener-esque. Why would anyone believe that their 140 character thoughts on masturbation is something the whole world should see?  It is a sad commentary on what has become acceptable in our society.

Finally, conversations between my children that I recently overheard:

Buttercup (6): "Tbone, was that your stomach?"
Tbone (16): "Nope."
Buttercup: "Huh. Must have been mine."
Sparkles (8): "Yep, she gets gassy sometimes."

Sparkles: "Today I tooted and it smelled just like Daddy's toots!"
Buttercup: "I know because you made me smell them."
Sparkles: "Didn't they smell just like Daddy's?"
Buttercup: "Nope. They were worse."
Sparkles: "They smelled great!"

(I have an idea now of what my kids will be posting someday when they have Twitter.  Why are bodily functions funny anyway?)

A Snapshot of My World

A Typical School Day Morning:

5am Hubby leaves for his 2+ hour commute to current job location.

6:15am Re-awoken by alarm blaring (enter title here) song from local Christian Radio station, slap snooze.

6:25am Alarm goes off again; new song blaring. Slap snooze again.

6:30am Decide to turn off alarm as brain is running anyway and sleep is no longer possible. Lie as still as possible while ruminating over the day's upcoming events (kids off to school, errands to run, chores to complete, hockey games, swim practice....)

6:32am Remember that there is still half a DVR'd Hallmark movie to watch, flip on TV and resume movie.

6:39am Tearing up over sweetness of Hallmark movie love story plot.

6:44am Hear basement shower go on; oldest child in shower. Glance at clock to check start time.

6:49am Cry a little more over Hallmark movie, check child's showering time so far.

6:55am Shower still going. Movie almost over.

6:59am Think: That child better get out soon or her brother won't have any hot water! Wish I knew how to turn off the hot water and surprise her...

7:01am Hear the CLUNK as basement shower is shut off.  Movie over, flip to Fox News.

7:05am Decide that am still burned-out from the election and really don't give a crap that Romney is having lunch with Obama, so Obama can a) look like he's a real gentleman and b) steal Romney's ideas and pass them off as his own regarding the budget crisis, so turn off Fox News and roll out of bed.

7:15am In kitchen hoping for some coffee, only to find that hubby has emptied coffee pot completely.  Mutter to self about no coffee while grinding coffee beans.

7:16am Oldest child attempts to get into my coffee-making space to make breakfast for herself. Tease her by getting into her space right back.

7:17am Dancing in circles in middle of kitchen, hand over my eye, saying "Gross! Gross! Gross! You licked my eye!" while oldest child and 16 year old son laugh at me.  Say to oldest child "Don't lick your friends!" Her response: "At least I didn't bite you."

7:21am 16 year old son hands me dress shirt and pants and says "Thanks mommy," before going downstairs to a (probably cold) shower.

7:23am 8 year old child comes into kitchen still in pjs, saying "It's pajama & movie day at school today, so all I had to do was put on my boots and hat on. We get to watch 'Santa Buddies' and not 'A Christmas Story' or 'Inkheart' because my teacher forgot to tell us we can only watch 'G' movies." ("A Christmas Story" isn't Rated-G? Who knew? Good thing I didn't let her take "Christmas Vacation" like she wanted to!)

7:28am Ironing shirt and pants. Get into argument with oldest child over her date for the Sadie Hawkins dance. Feeling very much lied to. Am told "YOU NEVER LET ME DO ANYTHING!" (Lies! Lies! Damn lies!) Take away oldest child's car keys and tell her to find a ride or ride the bus.

7:31am Still fighting with oldest child over fact that boy she "isn't dating" is disrespectful because a) he rarely drives, b) when he does drive, he doesn't even pull into driveway to pick her up, c) and the fact that he needs to get over his "fear" of me and come into our house, because really? That text message telling him that if he drove her car again and I found out that I would report it stolen was so 7 months ago - get over it already, man up and come into the dang house or I really will give him a reason to be scared of me.

7:40am Boy-child comes upstairs in shorts, wondering why he has no clothes yet, and if he has to ride the bus, how will he do it without pants?

7:42am Finish ironing boy's pants and shirt, vowing that he will get better shirts than the 65/35 poly/cotton blend hubby bought him (no wonder the shirts "tear up his neck"!).

7:45am Make youngest child her requested PBJ sammie for breakfast.  Fight some more with oldest child. Text BFF today's troubles. Fight irritation over the fact that maybe she is right and that I am overreacting (I NEVER OVERREACT!) again. Happy she agrees with me about being lied to and that boy needs to be more respectful.

7:50am Grudgingly give keys back to oldest child, with conditions: a) She finds other friends than boy to hang out with this weekend, b) that he drives and comes to door to pick her up if she does hang out with him, and c) that they start hanging out here more often because it is impossible to trust someone with my baby-girl who refuses to actually let me get to know them.  She agrees and snatches the keys from me.

8:15am Two oldest children run out the door to school. Youngest children dressed, teeth-brushed, hair-brushed, on couch, playing Wii.  Think, I have time to check my email before they have to be out the door... crack open laptop and log-on.

8:31am See email from son's hockey coach, telling us that 8 year old "Sparkles" will be welcome to sing "National Anthem" at hockey games when there isn't a music student there to do it.  Tell Sparkles, who bounces around like a puppy in happiness.  Ask her, "Some of the games you'd have to miss swim practice in order to be there to sing for the Varsity - would that be ok?" Her reply: "UM, YEAH, MOM! I'd rather sing than swim any day!" (Guess her getting a swimming scholarship to college like her older sister is out.)

8:47am Look up from computer and realize that the girls have 4 minutes before their bus will come; yell "Girls! You gotta Go!"

8:48 Mass panic ensues, reminiscent of the proverbial "Flying around like a fart in a mitten," as the three of us run around trying to find boots, mittens, hats (heehee cute sparkly Santa hats!), backpacks, agendas, jackets, snowpants, etc.

8:51am Girls at bus-stop. Did not miss bus. Back to the computer for me.  Now what?

Fun with the Neighbors Part II

As mentioned in my previous post, "Fun with the Neighbors Part I", my next-door neighbors drive me a little crazy.  The only upside of this situation is that I'm pretty sure we drive them equally crazy, which goes to show that there really is justice in the universe.

With the great weather this fall, the farmers across the road from our neighborhood were able to get their crops in quite early, leaving the fields crowded with Canada geese gleaning the dropped corn kernels all day.  Once goose hunting season started, we were awakened early on Fri-Sun mornings by hunting sounds - gunfire and geese honking as hunters took advantage of the easy access to thousands of birds.  Growing up around guns and having many friends who hunt, the only feeling I had about the gunshots I heard was irritation from the fact that I was being woken up far earlier than I wanted to be on weekends.  This sentiment was shared by my neighbor to the south - he too, did not appreciate the 5am gunfire - and, in past years, went so far as to call the police on the hunters.  Legally, they are allowed to hunt on the land across the road since it is privately owned, and birdshot does not travel far enough to threaten any residences, so his  call was to complain about his peace being disturbed (he also admitted to me that he was a bit jealous because he wasn't hunting with the hunters which added to his irritation when making the complaint to the police).

My neighbors to the north, however, being from California, decided instead to make a complaint to our city, citing that the hunting was a danger to residents in nearby neighborhoods and going so far as to say that our entire neighborhood was also worried about the dangers of hunting in the fields across the road from our homes.  Which is to say that the residents of the neighborhood with whom my neighbor speaks on a regular basis, may or may not have an issue with the hunting.  She did not ask me my opinion; if she had, I would have happily told her what I thought.  (I'm guessing that's why she never asked me.)  Instead, I only learned of her complaint when I was approached by a reporter for our local city newspaper who happened to see my daughter and I outside our house after she had been interviewing next door neighbor about her complaint.

At first I thought the reporter was stopping by to talk to my fantastically talented daughter about the fact that she had just participated in Early National Signing Day and had rocked at the State Championship Swim Meet the prior weekend.  My disappointment was short-lived, however, when I learned the actual reason for the reporter's appearance in my neighborhood.  (I have to admit that she may have thought I was nuts for the cackling laughter and snorting that I couldn't hold back when she told me her reason for being there.)  She asked me if the neighbor had ever talked to me about the hunting, mentioning that my neighbor had claimed knowledge that the entire neighborhood was concerned.  She asked me if I would be willing to go on the record how I felt about the goose hunting, and once I stopped snickering, I told her that while I didn't appreciate being woken early in the a.m., it was private land, so it didn't matter what I thought - they were legal to do it.  I then asked her: "Did she tell you they moved here from California last year?  Did you ask her for her views on the 2nd Amendment? Did you mention to her that a) that land is being developed into a subdivision early next year and hunting will no longer be allowed and b) that she has more chance of getting hit by a stray bullet in downtown (enter big city name of your choice here) than by birdshot in her backyard, especially when it is protected by her 6' privacy fence?" I also told her that I wished that they would allow more hunting - bow, not gun, mind you - within city limits as the night before I had followed two deer who were out for their evening constitutional on a residential street two blocks to the north of my own neighborhood, and that I was tired of the coyotes barking nearby every night and the raccoon that loved to harass my dogs.  (By the way, my suburb has a population of 50k+ and while we still have woods and farmlands nearby, we are by no means truly "rural" in nature.)

While I was chatting it up with the reporter, I noticed my neighbor in her car, high-tailing it out of her driveway while giving me the ol' stink-eye.  It was about that time that the reporter asked if I thought any of our other neighbors would be willing to share their views on the issue, to which I responded "Yes!" and helpfully pointing out which neighbors were hunters and/or who actually talked to my neighbor on a regular basis.  The last I saw of the reporter, she was being welcomed into the house across the street, home of one of the many hunters who has resided here for more than 20 years.

The next day, hubby and I took advantage of the unseasonably warm temperatures (mid 60s on Thanksgiving Day Eve?! No Way!) to "Griswold" our house: dragging out of our attic all the working lights, candy-canes, Santa, Sleigh, Reindeer, etc. and installing them on our house.  (It really is a good thing we have no HOA here or we'd be in severe violation of "single-color"/"clear/white light only" rules, etc.)  We love the Christmas Season and sharing Christmas cheer with our neighbors by having the largest light display possible, which is celebrated with the "Annual Lighting Ceremony" on Thanksgiving night, modeled after the Griswolds of "Christmas Vacation," complete with "drum rolls" produced by whomever is still at our house after dark on Thanksgiving Day and the singing of the Star Spangled Banner by my BFF, after which every one usually hurries back inside, complaining of the cold and asking why we insisted on having them outside to witness the turning on of our glorious lights.

The fact that our neighbors have yet to put a single light on their house last season or so far this season only contributes to our glee regarding our over-the-top display - if we can be annoying them in the process, it truly does make the work it took to create the display all the more worth it.

Black Friday morning found BFF and I up and at Menards at 5am, then on to Mills Fleet Farm at 6am (yes, we really are geeks! But the deals at Menards were really awesome.) which was where I found the final piece to this year's Christmas Light Display: A Six Foot Inflatable Snowman Hunter, complete in camo and wielding a shotgun! I snatched up the box and took it home with me, intent upon putting it in the front yard, six inches from the lot line between the neighbors' home and our's. Hubby even seemed excited with the prospect of tweaking the neighbors, laughing over the irony that we aren't even hunters!

Alas, it was not to be: our light display this year is too big this year for the crappily wired electrical system of my house as it is, and the addition of my wonderful Camo-Clad Snowman would require that we not only not run the microwave after dark, but also be relegated back to using candles for light (and while that seems like fun for a while, the thought of the 16, 8 and 6 year old children playing "Pioneers" while wandering around with lit candles scares the crap out of me) if we wanted to keep from blowing circuit breakers every 30 seconds.  So unfortunately, I had to take the Snowman back to Fleet Farm. (I promise though, next year, I will give up the candy-canes and even the sleigh and reindeer if I can have Mr. Snowman Hunter in my yard.)

~~ Still waiting to see an actual article printed about the goose hunting; wondering if there will actually be one published.  Also fighting the urge to buy a Christmas wreath for the neighbors & put on their front step since their unbedecked house looks very bare and sad next to our Griswold majestic wonderland.  There's two things stopping me: 1) Hubby finding out and yelling at me for wasting money on our unappreciative neighbors and 2) being caught putting the wreath on their front step (they keep their blinds closed all day, so the chances of being detected are slim, but I'm still paranoid).

Fun with the Neighbors Part I

We have lived here for four years.  For the most part, our neighborhood is pretty quiet, other than lots of kids tearing around, the occasional doggy escape from fenced-in yards, random ferrets or cats found hiding under our deck, fireworks shot off after 10pm on non-4th of July days, etc.  But generally, the neighbors, while friendly, haven't been the type of people to insist upon neighborhood BBQs or block parties, a fact for which most of us have been grateful.  Until last year when new people moved into the house to our north.  They came from the exotic land of California: the wife is an Associate Professor of Social Work at two of the most liberal schools in the metro, the husband is a card-dealer at one of the local casinos/card-rooms.  Together they have two children, a son (no one has ever seen/met) in college and a 6 year old daughter (who is apparently deathly allergic to dogs and to kids who refuse to allow her to boss them around). A week or two after they moved in, a good friend of mine "@SHockeyMama2" (follow her on Twitter!), stopped by with her very well-behaved and leashed dog, to hang out and have a beer on my deck with me.  While I went inside for something, @SHockeyMama2 took her dog into my backyard (still on his leash) to let him wander around.  She was greeted by my neighbor (who may have been on my property at the time) with "Don't you let your dog poop in MY YARD!"  That, my friends, was one of his first mistakes.  First of all, the dog was on a leash.  Second of all, no one speaks like that to @SHockeyMama2 and gets away with it. Third of all, that dog was like a child to her, and like her kids, NO ONE talks smack (and that was smack talk) to her about her dog or her kids without retribution.  From that moment on, the neighbors were never given the respect (they believe) they deserve (from everyone) from @SHockeyMama2, (who, ironically, knows pretty much everyone in our city and is well-loved by everyone who has ever met her) who began to loudly refer to them in insulting terms, infused with her southern sweetness, so unless you really knew her well, it would be hard to tell if there were insults being hurled their direction or not, every time she was on my deck or in my backyard.  (Quite entertaining.)

About six months after the family moved in, the fun truly began: suddenly our once quiet "stay-out-of-your-neighbors'-business" neighborhood became "HEY! Let's have neighborhood ladies' get-togethers at each other's homes once a month!"  Initially, I was included in the planning emails, but due to the fact that I have an exceptionally busy life carting my children from one activity to another and a husband who may or may not be home for weeks at a time, I was unable to attend the gatherings (Ok, I admit it: the gatherings were NEVER a priority to me anyway).  This, I believe, was one of my first mistakes.

My next mistake happened this spring when the neighbors decided to put in a 6' high privacy fence on the border of our properties.  Forgive me, but as I watched the browbeaten husband diligently trying to measure where to put the fence while the nagging and disapproving wife, clipboard in hand, looked on, I thought that maybe it would be prudent (and hubby agreed, him being 5 hours away at the time and unable to supervise said fence-building) to go out and chat with the happy (ha-ha) couple regarding the placement of the fence.  While I made small talk and joked with one of their buddies and talked about my plans for a row of raspberry bushes in the area of which they were planning to put the fence, they decided that I was angry about the fence that they insisted had NOTHING to do with us (even though I had received several FaceBook messages and messages via my children that my geriatric dog had pooped in their yard, and I caught their "perfect" little princess swimming in our pool without permission or adult supervision on occasion).  The second day of fence building began with their "guide-line" having snapped at some time in the night, for which I received a, yep, you guessed it, FACEBOOK message asking me if I "had any knowledge of how said line would have been broken? you know, since I am angry about the fence?"  Like I would have wasted my time to go cut their line.  Which is exactly what I asked - if they "were trying to imply that I cut their line?"  Wifey quickly retracted her statement by saying that "perhaps I had seen someone cut it?" (Because maybe I spent the night staring into the darkness outside the one window on that side of the house, guarding their line with my special magical x-ray vision. Yah, sure, you betcha.)  In all honesty, I don't like the fence.  I think it is ugly and does nothing to promote all the neighborly happiness/communication that they seem bound and determine to foster with all the neighborly gatherings they set up (but never host).  However, it is a great support for the raspberry bushes I planted and next spring will be awesome for the rows of giant sunflowers I plan to plant.  (I'm also planning on doing a "sunflower fence" stretching between our outside wall and their fence - just to demonstrate that there CAN be beauty between our yards.)

The summer dragged on with me doing the usual gardening (starting way too many tomatoes and actually sharing them with the neighbors), reading on my deck, yelling at my kids, mowing the lawn, planting raspberry bushes, chatting with all the neighbors when I ventured to the front yard (rare), etc. Until, toward the end of the summer, when the neighbors, through yelling at my girls ("No! You can't play with us in our yard! Your dog pooped in our yard!") and via Facebook (did I mention that their door is a mere 30 feet - if that - from mine?) alerted us to the fact that they believed that our 14 year old Border Collie/Australian Shepard X (also known as the BEST DOG IN THE WORLD) had not only gone into their garage and out the back garage door and pooped in their backyard, but she had also APPROACHED their child who is DEATHLY ALLERGIC TO DOGS. This began a series of events which may have included some FB replies regarding my feelings about passive-aggressive people, my going over to their house, ringing the doorbell several times, walking through their garage and into their backyard, only to find children playing but no adults in sight, more FB messages and finally, the husband coming over to "confront" me about my dog (I also must mention that these are very short people. Which, during the conversation, when he stood on my front stoop and I stood in my doorway, I was towering over him - quite empowering, really).  He insisted that it was my dog (yeah, ok, right) and that if it happened again, they would call animal control.  He had just uttered that detestable sentence when his wife walked up to hear my reply: "Sure, you do that. And the next time my dining room fills with the scent of WEED, I'll be sure to call the cops."  (Did I mention that they're from California? And Liberals? I honestly couldn't give a hoot if they toke up now and then, but could they please not do it behind their 6' privacy fence on the border of our yards? And, if they're going to threaten Animal Control on my geriatric dog, they need to understand that I will go Mama-Bear and fight back viciously.)

At this point, the husband's face went white as he stammered "What? That couldn't have come from our house! That must have been someone else!" as the wife also said, "You think we smoke pot?!" To which I replied, "Either you or some of your friends do, but it was definitely pot."  They went on and on about how they don't smoke weed (I don't care) and about my dog and how terrible my kids are (that really was the last straw) when I finally said, "Get the hell off my porch. NOW." Undeterred, they continued attempting to argue their case until a little voice piped up behind me: "My mom said NOW!" (Which, really, while I appreciate my 8 year old daughter having my back, the timing was really bad, since she just proved them right regarding the behavior of my kids. Regardless, I could barely keep from laughing in their aghast faces.)  They finally stalked off and nothing more was said for several weeks (during which time the husband "disappeared" for over a week, and since then, I've not been given the second-hand high from pot-smoke drifting from their yard into my dining room), which was great.

After a few weeks of avoiding almost all neighborly contact and being excluded from event-planning/invitations by the wife (but having other neighbors be sure I still received said emails - ha! psyc on her bootay!), school began.  I was not looking forward to the first day of school since everyone ends up at the bus stop to watch their little precious babies get on the bus.  Somehow, my crazy next-door-neighbors and I managed to perform the task without having to speak to one another.  However, it was so uncomfortable that I decided to make nice with the neighbors.  So I took them a small bouquet of gloriously blooming sunflowers and made peace (my effort was met with the wife hugging me...ooooo please stay out of my bubble. I'm part Scandinavian - we don't invade space nor do we appreciate space invaders, doncha know? Or maybe SHE DOES KNOW? Devious woman.).

Or So I Thought....

(Stay tuned for Part II)

Trusting God with Our Children & Their Future

I received a phone call yesterday from my 7 yr old's teacher informing me that my daughter was being sent to the "TAB" room. I'm not sure what "TAB" stands for - when my two teenagers attended the same elementary school, it was called "PAR" - which was something about Positive Attitude Reinforcement or some such thing.  Whatever it is called, the room in question is the place they send the kids who grossly misbehave in class - my daughter had hit another child and was sent to "make a Plan" at the TAB room.  Ah, the joys of being a parent.

It is amazing how four kids can be so different.  My oldest daughter, "SwimGirl", is 16: artistic, quiet, reserved (except at the pool - then her happy crazy side shows up and she is a joy to watch dancing on the deck as she awaits her next race), responsible and sweet.  She's had her moments - they all do - but for the most part, she is by far my easiest child. She is content to read or draw, amusement on her face as she watches the antics of her siblings. My 15 year old son aka "T-Bone", is also reserved, except on the ice or lacrosse field.  Then his ultra-competitive nature comes out as he deeks his opponents who assume from his size, that he will back down from attacks.  I've watched him check kids twice his size, skate away with the puck as they sit with their butts on the ice, shaking their heads and wondering what the heck just happened.  He is smart and charismatic - a natural leader in any situation.  Always high energy and somewhat sassy, he is destined to change the world and will.

My seven year old daughter has always seemed to be a perfect melting pot of my husband and I.  Extremely energetic, she has trouble sitting still for even short periods of time.  She hums and sings almost constantly - whatever "ear worm" is cycling through her head comes out of her mouth.  This was an issue with her teacher last year, who believed that all children learn the same way and my daughter's constant singing caused her teacher a constant headache.  After a year with "Sparkles", the teacher retired. Coincidence? I don't know.  Sparkles is my little handful and trying to find ways to train her to follow directions while encouraging her awesome spirit is a constant battle.  I love the spirit she has - her feistiness comes from both my husband and I - but it gets her into trouble, as it did yesterday.

My baby, "Princess Buttercup", is five years old.  Out of all my children, she most resembles me physically.  She will be the child who will give me a passel of grandkids.  She is sweet and smart. She tries to sing, but is eclipsed by Sparkles' talent since Buttercup can't carry a tune to save her life.  She loves to snuggle, but also has a dose of high energy that I need to find a place to focus it.

Back to Sparkles and yesterday's incident: The "plan" they worked out with her at the TAB room was one of trying to get her to think before she acts, something we've been trying to do since she was tiny.  Unfortunately, she seems to have been born that kid who will put their hand on a burner after being told not to do so many times.  Then, after being burned, she'll have to do it several more times just to see if the same results occur.

With all that is going on in the world, it is so scary as a parent to trust that things will work out for good.  I look at SwimGirl, hovering on the brink of adulthood and I worry about her future.  She's worked so hard at school and swimming - she's on the edge of launching out of the safety of our nest and the world is going crazy.  The little ones in our home would adjust well to a different sort of life: Buttercup has always wanted to live on a farm with lots of animals and Sparkles would finally have a place to expend all her crazy energy.  But my older two? How does one say "I'm sorry - all those years in school, on the ice, in the pool is for naught.  The world is crazy and we must flee now" when you know it will break their hearts?  The people in OWS and this administration claim that they are working for the future of our country - how can this be so when all they seem to be perpetuating is mediocrity and violence?  Where is my children's futures in their plan?

This is the time when trusting God and HIS PLAN is so important, but how hard is it to hand over all that and trust?  Some days it is easier than others.  It brings to mind the verse: "But Jesus called the children to him and said, 'Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.'" (Luke 18:16, NIV) Letting our children go into his hands is what he requires of us, so it is what we must do, but it can be so hard.