tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15704800546230383242024-02-18T21:21:10.774-05:00www.whatnow-ted.blogspot.comI am a mom, this I know, but there is so much I don't. Some people say motherhood is the most awesome job, it is, so why do I feel tired, dirty, and inadequate most of the time? Hopefully you will find hope, humor, and help in my rants regarding life from inside - the Mommyhood.tedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10590107766293511114noreply@blogger.comBlogger457125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-19233013787397740752024-02-01T19:19:00.001-05:002024-02-01T19:19:38.458-05:00One for the books!<p> My youngest son has three cooking classes. Senior year is ALL about the fun, for sure.</p><p>We were both in the kitchen the other night which is rare these days. So I told him he had to help with dinner. As we were getting out ingredients, chopping, etc I asked what he learned in all his cooking classes. He sighed heavily and said "I've learned that everything I've been doing so far in my life is all wrong." I laughed and my first thought was that Food Network show where two chefs tried to teach normal people how to cook. The show usually ended in someone using the wrong knife, the wrong cutting board, or not cooking chicken to 165 degrees.</p><p>He was chopping something and I said "I am surprised that you are still willing to get in the kitchen, this hasn't scared you off eating!" That's when my son sighed heavily and said, "Listen Bitch." I busted out laughing. I couldn't stop laughing. My son was sputtering - "I didn't mean that! I'm sorry-I'm sorry!" Had I not been right next to him and watched the wheels turning.. and had I not just had the picture of that white haired female chef berating someone for using a saute pan for browning I might have taken pause. But I can only imagine a high school teacher trying to wrangle 20 teenagers making Pho.</p><p>I laughed all night long and will probably never let him live this down. The other reason this was not a huge deal-is because I know my son loves me. He tells me everyday. Usually not with a "Listen Bitch!" but....still funny!</p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-23261437795465478122024-01-02T21:13:00.003-05:002024-01-02T21:13:24.189-05:00Resolutions...my arch nemesis<p>New Years Resolutions are my arch nemesis. I've said this for years. But every year, I feel the need to push the reset button. To set a goal - however unattainable!</p><p>NO MORE TV! I know, if this lasts 30 seconds I will eat my hat. But I know the only reason I ever watch TV is to numb, escape, procrastinate. And if I have to read meme "Procrastination is not lazy, it is depression." I will scream - OK Universe, I got it!</p><p>Sigh. I am 51 years old. My marriage is barely OK 50% of the time, I have no career and hate my job. The only thing I am proud of is my kids and I can't really take credit for them! They are moving out into the world which is awesome but leaves me wondering -WTF do I do now? I have maybe two friends, I have 4 siblings left and only 1 of them speaks to me. I am taking care of my parents. Mom doesn't know who I am and now she can't even talk on the phone anymore. Dad has told me he is depressed and can't do this anymore but there is no money to pay for any other situation. My husband's mother is failing fast and now needs a live-in caregiver. We've been to one wedding in 10 years and 100 funerals.</p><p>I wanted to go to the HS in Fame, I wanted to be a dance teacher and bang my stick. I wanted to write Children's books and regular books and be on Oprah's Book Club list. I wanted to figure out this stupid anxiety bullshit, fix it once an for all, and no one would ever have to go through what I did. I wanted my Grandmothers to live Forever because they were the ONLY people who ever loved me, EVER!</p><p>No one tells you about this part....menopause, empty nesting, aging parents. We don't talk about how you wake up one day and think $%*@! What happened? Did I take a left turn at Albuquerque??? How did this get so sideways? And yet - I'd do it again mostly, I wouldn't straighten it all out. Don't get me wrong, there are a few moments I would absolutely call Do Over. But I do not regret my life.</p><p>I just don't know how I got to 50 so F'ing fast...and that means I am headed to 80 even faster. What do I want to look back on then? I'm going to start by turning off the TV, because I'm not finding any answers there. No Friends, no Fame, I'm not Dancing with any Stars and I am certainly not Solid Gold. Guess I need to accept the Facts of Life - Charles in not in Charge, these Happy Days are not all yours and mine but it is time for a Hart to Hart. Maybe a second honeymoon cruise on the Love Boat to Fantasy Island -or Maybe Dallas? Maybe I should start Moonlighting? Taxi? Mel's Diner? I mean who's the Boss here?? It's time for a Different World but with all change there are Growing Pains, all I can do is remember what matters most - Family Matters. I just know my life is feeling like one long episode of the Gong Show maybe it's time for a Little House on the Prairie?</p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-79670343797102421192023-12-16T15:37:00.000-05:002023-12-16T15:37:07.960-05:00Christmas Wishes<p>My mom has Dementia. She no longer recognizes me or any of her kids for that matter. She doesn't work, cook, or drive and she can no longer do things that require following a process like showering or dressing. She can no longer write and reading is hit or miss. Conversation is difficult because it is to hard for her to keep track of and understand what people are talking about.</p><p>What's awful about watching my mom disintegrate from dementia is knowing who she was prior. How does this even happen? Someone who taught 3-4 grade, raised 5 children, obtained her Realtor and Broker's licences and then bought a Century 21 Franchise, volunteered in the community, planned, organized, and cooked for every family function with a minimum of 35 people! HOW?! why......</p><p>The worst part though - are the days when she knows. She knows something is wrong with her and it tears her apart. Last year on the drive down to Florida it hit her when we stopped for the night that she had 5 kids and didn't remember them. "What kind of a mother doesn't remember?" she cried over and over for hours. This year, she became somewhat lucid when we were talking with a service that provides Caregivers. She said "What is this? What am I doing wrong? Why are you trying to put me in a box? I know you are talking about me - and you don't need to. I'm fine!" Dad is currently her main caregiver and it is wearing on him. I can see him slipping, especially this trip to Florida. It is no longer an option to leave them all alone. They need help and I need the reassurance there is another set of eyes on them.</p><p>There are a lot of awful parts about this disease, but I think when she knows she doesn't know, that is the worst. Because she just keeps asking - "Why? Why is this happening to me?" and I really do not have an answer for that, no one does. It's the 10 Million Dollar question right?! How do we cure Alzheimer's?</p><p>As hard as some of the moments were this week, some were awesome. We spent two whole days in the car singing Christmas Carols! Every time we went out for a walk we sang "We're off to see the Wizard! The Wonderful Wizard of Oz." In stores or crowds when she would get anxious about all the people she would say to me "I'm trying to walk like you!" and then I would march, or wiggle my bum, or wave my arms and say in my best Steve Martin voice "Walk this way". </p><p>Because I don't know their neighborhood in Florida at all I used the GPS to get even a mile and a half down the road to the store. GPS has always made mom and I giggle uncontrollably and even more so now that she always talks back to it. Add to that the fact that driving around in Florida is a night mare and the GPS was constantly saying to us TURN RIGHT THEN TURN RIGHT AND STAY RIGHT Whenever mom would ask "where are we going?" I would just say - turning right. And we would both dissolve into a fit of giggles. My dad is extremely hard of hearing and much of our amusement is talking to him, him not hearing us, us laughing that he can't hear us, then making fun of him, then suddenly him hearing everything we just said.</p><p>For all the hard stuff, and there is a LOT of hard stuff, I try to hold onto the good stuff. The fits of giggles. The moments of lucidity. The way she gets excited about the green grass and the "pinkies". (every flower she sees) The fact that when she gets turned around she will say "Whoopsie doodle I'm off my noodle!" As soon as I say "I love you" she will say, "I love you more." And no matter how long I stay she will tell me to ask my mom if I can stay longer. I always say "I will".</p><p>We are so lucky because Mom is healthy and for the most part mom is happy. She smiles, sings, and sweeps a lot. She loves dad, life, babies, bright colors, soft things. Being productive and active is still very important to her and her biggest source of frustration. It can also be our biggest source of frustration in trying to find things to engage and occupy her. Dad is doing the best he can for something so out of his wheelhouse. He knows how to go out and make money so that mom can go buy whatever she needs including help. He does not always know how to be that help. Just like it does not help to get frustrated with mom - it does not help to get frustrated with my dad. (It doesn't mean that I don't) My goal is provide the support they need for now.</p><p>As I sit in the airport waiting for my return flight home and reflecting on all of this there is a knot in my stomach. I hate having to leave because part of me feels like I am deserting them but it is time to get back to my family. And part of me is so incredibly grateful for this time with mom and dad, all the memories. I will cherish them. These are the priceless little gifts I will hold dear this Christmas. </p><p><br /></p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-86080893769593962152023-11-19T22:23:00.008-05:002023-11-19T22:23:54.032-05:00Make some Jello...<p>I may have told this story before, but when I was in college and stressing about writing lesson plans, and a paper, and other homework I was complaining to my mom. At the time I was at my mom's Alma Mater and also studying education. She told me to go to the kitchen and make some Jello. WHY?! I hate Jello? Mom said it's not about the Jello. It's about getting unstuck, doing something where you can see results and knowing you can accomplish something. Then sitting down to write one lesson plan doesn't seem so overwhelming. If you write one, you can write two, and before you know it you have written the unit lesson plans. Just go make the Jello.</p><p>My mom hasn't given me advice for a quite awhile. My mom has Alzheimer's. She no longer really knows who I am. Memories like this one make my heart hurt, a lot. Because there are still so many moments when I wish I could ask my mom how to navigate this new place or just hear I'm not crazy. Just menopausal.</p><p>I still talk to my mom almost every single day, but it's not the same. It used to be her listening to me go on and on about the kids, my husband, and soccer moms. Now, I listen to mom go on and on about...anything. Sometimes she strings her thoughts together and I can almost forget she doesn't know I'm her daughter. Other days I sit patiently listening to her struggle to speak, think of words, and talk in circles that make no sense.</p><p>Once in a while, she will say something that knocks the air our of my lungs and the tears out of my eyes. Sometimes she says something like, Go make some Jello. And those moments are like catching a glimpse of an old movie. For a moment she's there-right there with me-then she's gone again.</p><p>My boys don't remember Nanna with out Alzheimer's. They don't remember the Nanna who read to them, and played trains with them, gave them a bath, and tucked them in. There are pictures but no memories of the Nanna who ran a business and community fund drives and every family holiday. It breaks my heart that they will never get that experience when she is still right here. </p><p>I remember asking my mom, why Jello? She said "I just liked it." I still hate Jello, but I always have some in the pantry. Because sometimes, I just have to just- Go make the Jello.</p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-20893150637198929342023-11-18T09:18:00.000-05:002023-11-18T09:18:16.850-05:00Not until I say so...<p>Both boys suddenly have friends, who are girls, that they spend time with, alone. My husband is ALL for it. But he made it very clear to the boys - they are not girlfriends until he gets to meet them. I love that my husband thinks he has this much control!!</p><p>The boys response - " ok dad, she's not my girlfriend". There's no argument at all. "Bring them to the house!" Again -"ok dad". They are not phased. Dad holds no threat to his boys that both now tower over him. I have to admit this is a great source of mirth for me.</p><p>Last weekend my oldest texted me at 4:30 pm. "Hey mom, Any dinner plans? Just wondered if you wanted me home at any certain time?" So I texted back "No plan yet. What are you thinking?" So he called me and I was out with a friend at the time. I said, "I haven't gone to the store yet - what are you thinking?" and that's when my son said, "Well I was thinking of bringing my friend home for dinner..." Absolutely!</p><p>My husband was SO excited. He went into cleaning mode. Most women can relate and what you are probably thinking of is a quick pick up and Lysol wipe down. Nope. This is when my husband does things like vaccuum the basement carpet, clean out the refrigerator, trim the bushes, or wash a car. The other factor of my husband going into go mode - he yells at everyone else to help him.</p><p>So I got my son's call at 4:30. We planned to eat at 6:30 pm. I had not yet been to the store and my son's girlfriend has food allergies. OH - and remember I was out with a friend at the time. I left for the store at 5 pm with the charge to make dinner for 5 that was gluten free and tree nut free (essential!) and for my family diary free and meat free options.</p><p>Meanwhile my husband cleaned things, barked and snipped at my youngest son, a lot, took a shower and stood by the front door waiting for them to arrive. When they pulled up the whole neighborhood was alerted as my husband started yelling "THEY'RE HERE! THEY'RE HERE!" You have to love his enthusiasm.</p><p>We had a great dinner, I didn't send anyone into anaphylactic shock, and they hung out and talked with us for a while. My husband smiled all night long. My son's girlfriend is 6'tall. They are both in engineering and the marching band. They are both quiet, thoughtful, serious, kind, and probably more family oriented then friend centered. </p><p>And now she is officially a girlfriend - according to my husband! My son's not big on labels.</p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-78506529236618930392023-11-09T19:22:00.001-05:002023-11-09T19:22:08.240-05:00Three Little Birds<p>When they hand over your child life changes, in many ways. The first is - you want every little thing...to be alright. When things are not alright it's hard. Your heart and soul are screaming FIX IT!! Literally. Because your heart and soul are now outside your body. They are walking, talking, and living in a cruel cruel world. It is your mission to protect them.</p><p>My oldest son relived my exact experience on my first flight. On the first flight he would be able to remember his ear became inflamed causing severe pain upon descending. And then we had another flight to go. It was awful and there was nothing I could do.</p><p>Sighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh</p><p>I started to sing. Every little thing, is gonna be alright. Baby don't worry, about a thing. Cause every little thing, is gonna be alright.</p><p>Here is the thing. I knew that it wasn't going to be alright. Not for quite a while. But there was my heart and soul holding it's head, crying, terrified, and in pain. So I keep singing Baby don't worry! 'bout a ting. cuz every little ting, gonna be alright, mon.</p><p>For me, maybe not everyone, the hardest part of parenting is reliving all my childhood trauma. If I have to relive it all, at least I can help it turn out WAY better this time. What did I need to hear when I was a kid having panic attack after panic attack? I just needed to know <i>Every little thing was going to be alright.</i> Even if it wasn't, yet.</p><p>After that trip, I looked up the song not knowing the title is Three little birds. The verse not just the chorus are beautiful. If there was ever an anthem for positivity and gratitude this is it. </p><pre class="lyric-body wselect-cnt" data-lang="en" dir="ltr" id="lyric-body-text" style="background-color: white; border: none; box-sizing: border-box; color: #111111; cursor: alias !important; font-family: Oxygen, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 26px; overflow: auto; text-wrap: wrap; word-break: break-word;">Rise up this mornin'
Smiled with the risin' sun
Three <a href="https://www.definitions.net/definition/little" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; text-decoration-line: none;">little</a> birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singin' <a href="https://www.definitions.net/definition/sweet" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; text-decoration-line: none;">sweet</a> songs
Of <a href="https://www.definitions.net/definition/melodies" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; text-decoration-line: none;">melodies</a> pure and true
Saying', (this is my <a href="https://www.definitions.net/definition/message" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; text-decoration-line: none;">message</a> to you)
Singing' don't <a href="https://www.definitions.net/definition/worry" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; text-decoration-line: none;">worry</a> 'bout a thing
'Cause <a href="https://www.definitions.net/definition/every" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; text-decoration-line: none;">every</a> little <a href="https://www.definitions.net/definition/thing" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; text-decoration-line: none;">thing</a> gonna be alright
Singing' don't <a href="https://www.definitions.net/definition/worry" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; text-decoration-line: none;">worry</a> (don't worry) 'bout a thing
'Cause <a href="https://www.definitions.net/definition/every" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; text-decoration-line: none;">every</a> little <a href="https://www.definitions.net/definition/thing" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; text-decoration-line: none;">thing</a> gonna be alright</pre><pre class="lyric-body wselect-cnt" data-lang="en" dir="ltr" id="lyric-body-text" style="background-color: white; border: none; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: alias !important; line-height: 26px; overflow: auto; text-wrap: wrap; word-break: break-word;"><span style="font-family: Tinos;"><span style="white-space-collapse: collapse;">Even when maybe every little things isn't gonna be alright right this minute, what I know from life is - It will be. Tomorrow morning the sun will rise, the birds will sing, and at least one little thing will be all right. Never stop singing mon.</span></span></pre>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-15198697864208045832023-11-06T17:29:00.005-05:002023-11-06T17:29:39.023-05:00Facing your fears....<p>It is an absolutely gorgeous late fall day. It is 60 degrees, the sun is out, there is a lot of wind but being outside in shorts in the Midwest on November 6th! I'll take it. Ne excuse for not working out and for not getting in 500 words. New goal. 500 words a day until the end of the year.</p><p>Face your Fears! Does not mean jumping out of an airplane, I'm not crazy! But it does mean do the stuff that is hard. Writing even when I want to pull the covers back over my head. Texting someone to see if they want to take a walk, asking my husband for a date, sitting down in front of a blank canvas. First world fears right?!</p><p>If I am writing this for my boys, then this is what I want them to know about fears. They never go away, just morph maybe? Human's biggest fear of all? Being alone. Truly alone, not 21st Century alone where you have TV, radio, 10 streaming services, iPad, and iPhone. That is anything but alone. The kind of alone where the only other person you can hear is in your head - YOU.</p><p>The people who say I can not mediate or I hate meditation. What they hate is hearing all the chatter of their mind. Their actual inner voice. Their deepest darkest wants, needs, desires, thoughts, and fears. That shit is scary. It is hard work to learn how to sit with yourself and not judge, just listen. Get curious. You can't not do it boys. Because here is what I learned way late in life. In order to fully give and receive love you have to be able to give and receive love - to yourself. Forgive the stupid shit you did, said, watched. Talk to yourself like you would talk to your best friend. Beating yourself up isn't discipline its dumbassery. How long would your friends stick around if you talked to them they way your talked to yourself???</p><p>All of us as humans could make a list of 100 things we fear. Not one of us would put "Myself" on that list. But that is ultimately what we are most afraid of - being alone, in our head, with our life movie on repeat. Reliving it over and over again...regrets, mistakes, F#@% ups. There is more though. If you learn to sit still, be still, get quiet, get curious, not judge, forgive, and talk to yourself like you would talk to your best friend. Then you can see the good stuff, the joyful stuff, the silly stuff. Then you can see yourself for who you are to the world.</p><p>This is why your parents, teachers, friends will say to you...I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.</p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-56370257240744363682023-11-04T15:59:00.002-04:002023-11-04T15:59:12.680-04:00This used to be easier.....<p>I haven't found time to sit down and write about my sons misadventures, milestones, and memories for quite a while. I would like to blame work, life, or my husband. But the reality is, it was easier not to. Sitting down and writing is hard and I stopped doing the hard stuff.</p><p>I told myself I WAS doing the hard stuff. Raising kids, working part-time, surviving a pandemic, taking care of aging parents. But that was not the reality. It was just to hard. My sons's did not stop growing and making memories....I just stopped writing them down.</p><p>I don't think I have written about my oldest son since he was in Junior High. He is most like me. He struggled with Junior High and High School, his first girlfriend, and perfectionism. Covid was horrible for him. All the hard work he had been putting into music was paying off RIGHT when the world shut down. The rug was pulled so far out from underneath him I am not sure if it will ever go back.</p><p>He is currently at University studying and playing music and still a perfectionist. He may have a girlfriend but he is certainly not telling us, so my husband told him it is not official until we meet her. Such a Greek father! Honey, he may not speak up until the wedding -?!</p><p>My youngest son has chosen a University. One and done. We went, we looked, we're done. Now, the after Senior year world tour is a different story. He has said for three years he is going to go to spend time with family overseas after high school. Now he just has to plan it. Part of his plan is to see if he can workout or tryout with Football clubs there. Good on'ya Mate! As long as he is driving this bus. I can't do it for him, but I will cheer the loudest. Guaranted.</p><p>I'm frustrated with myself for not writing more down. The boys deserve better. I deserve better. As I watch my mother disintegrate from Dementia I am paralyzed. What if that is me??! Just like that New Year's Eve question- What if I wake up tomorrow and forget who I am? Who will tell me.....what would my boys remember?</p><p>Will they remember all the trips to the zoo, the library, the parks? Will they remember all the hours I volunteered in their classroom and on school trips? Will they remember all the homemade birthday cakes, Halloween costumes, celebratory meals? Will they remember the hours we spent in the car - driving everywhere! To soccer practice, soccer games, soccer tournaments, soccer parties! and to be fair also cross country, basketball, flag football, and even dance classes for a bit. Will they remember awards, concerts, ceremonies?</p><p>If holding onto memories requires reliving them over and over again. Who will they relive those memories with besides each other? We don't have family, they don't have friend groups. And of course my biggest worry, they are too much like me. The only memories they will have are of the anxiety, disappointment, and trauma.</p><p>There are two reasons I am angry at myself because ultimately I let myself down. I let Anxiety and depression win. I stopped writing and stopped reliving the moments to cement them in memories. That's all on me.</p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-34933528800401202302023-02-24T08:33:00.002-05:002023-02-24T08:33:14.265-05:00My poor kids!!!<p> I am no better at keeping this up to date and giving my kids a written account of their childhood as I am taking pictures and giving them a photo account of their childhood - I suck!!!</p><p>My youngest is 16, lordie day, soon to be 17. (where did the time go!) He is still set on getting into college as a D1 athlete and going into life a Professional Soccer player. Sigh.......but maybe I should go back a bit.</p><p>My youngest came out screaming and hasn't stopped. He knows what he wants and he can be relentless to get it whether it was a cookie right before dinner or a ForteNite game (thank god that phase is over), having a friend over or not taking AP classes. Tenacious! Except for studying, practicing, or working hard. Thus the reason we find ourselves where we are today. He only made Varsity soccer as a Junior and we have little to no playing time to prove it. Barely any AP classes and no extracurriculars to speak of. D1 college resume material - Zero, Zip, Zilch.</p><p>However we did make it to Cyprus last summer to see my husbands mom and family and if I had to choose someone to get delayed in a foreign country - it would be him! Because I know he would be totally OK, more than OK. Quite possibly he would end up Prime Minister before it was all over. He has charisma for days, can talk himself out of/or into anything, he is <i><u>genuinely</u></i> kind hearted, loving, and passionate. He is so passionate about fairness or maybe good versus evil. Turned in the right direction he and Pinky COULD TAKE OVER THE WORLD!</p><p>When this child started High School I thought for sure it would be about 5 minutes before he had a girlfriend or three. But seeing as he started HS in the midst of the Covid Pandemic he took social distance very seriously. No socializing seriously. It is hard for me to get to upset over it because the social scene has not changed since I went to HS and it is still all about drinking, getting high, and having sex. It does make me sad. It hurts my heart that neither of my kids have friends or a social life because they wanted something - different.</p><p>I am sure I am not the first parent less than satisfied with my performance. There is a list a mile long of what I wish I shoulda, woulda, coulda done better. But when my son wants to hang out with me, hugs me out of the blue, goes with me to help at the store, or talks to his Nanna or cousin Liam on the phone. I stop for one minute, take a deep breathe, say a prayer to my angels and wonder to myself - Did I get the big stuff right? </p><p>When the boys were little I would say to them, "It's my job to keep you safe and make you a gentleman." I feel as a parent the most important job I have is teach them - show them the importance of Love. Life is all about love and that is WAY more complicated than it seems. On this journey these boys have taught me just as much about love as anyone or anything, my youngest has taught me the most.</p><p>I know I don't say it enough to him. I am so incredibly proud of the gentleman he is and the Gentleman to come. Whether the Premier League calls or not Damnit!!</p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-73683185667866051082022-09-25T10:33:00.000-04:002022-09-25T10:33:24.252-04:00Yes - That's why I became a mom. Because I love cleaning toilets, said No One, EVER!<p>Why did I want to be a mom? Evidently because I love to clean toilets. I am now what is referred to as the sandwich generation, raising my teenage boys and taking care of aging parents. I am blessed to have a part-time job where I am off on Friday and I usually take that day to travel two hours to check in on and take care of my parents.</p><p>When this started I would get up an hour earlier and clean my own house, get my kids off to school, then take off for my parents where I would -you guessed it - clean their house. Over the summer it finally dawned on me, I am a very slow learner, instead of me maybe my family could clean our house. Or so I could hope.</p><p>Someone who's children were older than mine said to me when I had two small boys, "How do you raise boys to be good husbands? To understand it's a partnership, they should help clean, they should change diapers, they should think about the needs of others? I don't want my future daughter-in-law to say 'God you raised a monster!'" I didn't know either, but it was a very good question.</p><p>My father was an only child who was extremely good at getting others to do things for him and had a wife that did everything. I married an only child who moved 5,000 miles away from home very young so he was a little better, but still really good at getting others to do things for him. I was raising two boys who were watching me take care of everything - this might not end well. That's when I decided Saturday morning cleaning time would include them. I put a tube sock on their hand and sprayed it with furniture polish and sent them around to wipe anything made of wood. I gave them the vacuum and taught them to make lines. I had them bag up recycling, collect trash, sort laundry, make a bed, etc. Now I can not be sure anymore but I feel like I have taught ALL the men in this house how to clean a toilet. Even showing them how to get your face right next to the toilet bowl to scrub the pee off the sides of the toilet, their pee by the way. Yet I am still the only one that ever cleans a toilet.</p><p>Cleaning my parents house went faster if I just got to work and plowed through it myself but that really wasn't the point of going to spend time with mom and bringing purpose to her day. So like our Saturday morning cleaning I would give mom a job. Dusting, trash, laundry collection, or vacuuming. She loved vacuuming. Who doesn't love vacuuming? If you have to do a chore, at least you see and hear (sucking up a Lego or coin) immediate results. And it is not putting your face damn near in the toilet bowl to clean up OTHER people's waste. "I love cleaning toilets!" Said No One Ever!!</p><p>My husband and I recently got in a loud, heated, cussing discussion about chores in our house. He said for the 10,000th time in our 25+year marriage. "I help! I do dishes, laundry, vacuum." Yes. You do all the things you want or need to do - not all the things that need to be done. No one but me cleans a toilet. God love him, he really is a slower learner, he said "I clean toilets." I said when? There was a huge, very pregnant pause...because the one and only time he cleaned the toilets was when he told me they were gross and I was 8 months pregnant. I didn't kill him, but had one of our loud, heated, cussing discussions where I said "You do it!"</p><p>My best friend of 25+ years and I have discussed how growing up Midwestern Catholic girls left us with a few ridiculous ideas. One being that life was not about joy or happiness but serving others. Shut up. Clean it up. Offer it up. We were not exactly told to be a mom, have babies, serve your husband -but that was the reality of our lives. It was the 70's and we were told we could be "Anything you want to be" but not really shown. And it makes me wonder- is how I am perceived by my kids? That I am a mom because I love to clean toilets.</p><p>I can not put into words all the reason why I wanted to be a mom. But I just spent two days with my mom who has basically Alzheimer's disease. She doesn't always know who I am or what I am doing there. I know this. It's gut wrenching. But what I do want her to know when I am there is that she is loved, she is safe, and she is OK exactly the way she is. When I was leaving yesterday she asked how long of a drive I had and quickly pressed several granola bars into my hand. I gave her a hug and told her I loved her very very much.</p><p>She said "Tell your mom thank you, she did a good job." I said "I know she did" She said "I bet she is a good woman." I said "She is the best, I love her more than words can say."</p><p>Why did I become a Mom? Because of her. She showed me this kind of love. The kind where you clean the pee around the toilet even if it is not yours, because it is the right thing to do. Because it is taking care of the people you love, keeping them safe, showing them how to love even the hard stuff that is not as immediate and gratifying as vacuuming. And because of love, I continue to do it. Hopefully, one day if I am there, my boys will come to clean my toilets.</p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-59582804060311853122022-07-26T21:48:00.000-04:002022-07-26T21:48:20.656-04:00Who really needs Drivers Education??!<p> Do you want to know the truly horrible part of teaching a teenager to drive?</p><p>YOU Assholes!</p><p>I refuse to put a permanent bumper sticker on my car that says STUDENT DRIVER. Because like <i>Baby On Board</i> one day he will not be a student driver and also he's using My Car! Most importantly, is that going to make any of you less of an asshole??</p><p>He is driving the speed limit, coming to a complete stop at a stop sign, waiting for a light to actually turn green and then checking for red light runners so as not to get t-boned, stopping for pedestrians in crosswalks, yielding for oncoming traffic, etc. In so many words - He is following the damn rules. And what does he get for it?</p><p>Honked at, cussed at, flipped off, tailgated, passed in intersections, and passed in neighborhoods not to mention a two lane road with no shoulder. I have never been more tempted to get a dash cam in my life and put your cars, license plates, and faces all over the internet. What is wrong with you people? Who should really have to pay $800 for Drivers Education - my 16 year-old? Or Assholes?</p><p>Personally, I think a better use of police patrol time would just be to write tickets to Assholes and when you get to 10 you have to pay $800 and go back to Driver's Education. If you get to 20 you go to Anger Management and you get a special color licensee plate. If you continue to get Asshole tickets you get the Scarlet Letter - a bright flashing A for your car so everyone else knows what to expect. Stay away from them! They are an Asshole.</p><p>I get very frustrated and fired up when it comes to having to police people into kindness. We are all in this together. Kindness doesn't cost anything - unless you refuse to use it. Because the cost of riding on my son's ass every time he drives is that you are creating a cynical, frustrated, angry driver. YEAH!! Just what you really wanted more of on the road right Asshole?! Drivers like you.....</p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-11337797279852290132022-05-14T08:32:00.000-04:002022-05-14T08:32:03.241-04:00Thank you Abby Wombach!<p> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CSH8geuu2UQ" target="_blank">Abby Wombach's Commencement Speech at LMU</a></p><p>Sometimes someone puts something so simply, but so eloquently that it touches your soul. Abby Wombach has done just that for that for me in her commencement speech to LMU Class of 2022.</p><p>Miss Wombach is not only one of the most decorated Female athlete of all times - she is damn near the most decorated soccer player of all times! She can literally run with the big dogs. She is openly Gay, Democratic, and Catholic. In her speech Miss Wombach clearly, simply, and eloquently describes being 4 years old and wanting a world that didn't exist yet. And now she is living and forming that world every day.</p><p>There are <u>many things</u> that touched me about her speech, truly. But the very first thing was when she said, "I was a little gay girl in Catholic schools and churches. And while there was much about it I loved, I didn't always feel loved back. I often felt unvalued and unsafe being who God made me to be. In the one place I should have felt the safest and most valued"</p><p>Read that again. And if you identify as Christian -read it again.</p><p>I was not a little gay girl, but I was a very anxious girl. I was a molested and raped girl. I was an emotionally abused girl that was being told, God made you in his likeness and YOU screwed that up. He doesn't like who you are now, you are bad, you must prostrate yourself and repent if you want to go to Heaven and not spend eternity burning in Hell.</p><p>If you are devote you maybe shaking your head. But that is exactly what I was <u>hearing</u> from the Nuns, the brothers, and Priests week after week after week. I didn't have the words or the right to say to them -You're scaring me! A 6/8/10 year-old shouldn't have to shout to adults in power in <i>organized Religion</i> -please stop telling me I am not worthy of Heaven, I already know that and I lie awake at night terrified "if I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take" DON'T TAKE ME TO HELL!</p><p>Even at 6 years-old I knew something was not right. Every week my parents got all jacked up, dad cussed us into the car, drove 60 mph to church, marched us up to the front pews where we were suppose to sit, stand, kneel, and chant on cue in front of a bigger than life man naked, bloodied, and staked to a cross. After church the same routine ensued in reverse, cuss us into the car, drive 60 mph home, march us into the house where he expected us sit, stand, and answer on cue but otherwise stay the hell out of his way.</p><p>As a Catholic, in 8th grade there is a right of passage called Confirmation. Girls wear a white dress, pick a Holy name, and stand in front of God and the church and commit to a life of devotion to the Church. Around that time in our Parish we had a Deacon working for the Church and school. When it was time for Confirmation I said to my Mom - Um, No thanks! I'm good. Well, she sent me to talk to Deacon Tom who became a very good friend and officiant at my wedding years later. Deacon Tom had a wife, and kids, and a life outside of the church. He listened carefully, he asked the right questions, and most important he agreed that what I felt was accurate and valuable. He apologized that I had spent so much time feeling terrified by God and assured me that he was not, as I put it, sitting on a cloud with a clipboard making tick marks that were damning me to hell.</p><p>He told me I had every right to question everything about a religion before making a commitment and helped me learn more about the religion that I wanted to choose - Judaism. Ultimately, my mother agreed but laid out the reality. My father and grandparents would have 10 heartaches if I didn't get Confirmed. Then she revealed that even after going to Catholic schools all her life, going to a Catholic college, dragging us to church each week, volunteering at our catholic school, and teaching CCD for years she didn't believe everything. Wait What??!!</p><p>Both of them opened the door for me to question the difference between being Spiritual and being Religious. In my opinion being religious is Jim and Tammy Faye Baker. Being religious was my dad cussing at us on Sunday morning to get to church then cussing at us to get out after communion to beat the crowd. Religious, in my opinion, is someone who talks about it, demands it of others, but doesn't have to live it. I am not a fan of organized religion because I think it quickly corrupts what is good.</p><p>In my opinion, being Spiritual is not about waving the flag of God but living it. I do not have to tell people I am spiritual but when my best friend gets cancer for the second time I surely fell to my knees and prayed. And I went with her to the Doctor's appointments, put together a calendar of help, and spent 10+ terrifying days in the hospital with her. Because in my opinion, like Miss Wombach says, I took to heart <i>Do unto others, as you would have them to do unto you</i>. </p><p>Can it be that simple? </p><p>Do you like your religion? Do you appreciate the fact that you get to choose your religion? That you can celebrate, practice, and enjoy your religion?</p><p>Then my only question is - Why are you taking that away from me? I am not taking it away from you? I'm not asking for laws that make worshipping on Sunday illegal. And believe you me after the trauma of my childhood experience it would be warranted! It would be protecting all those innocent children from extreme trauma, depression, and anxiety. I would be doing all the world a great service!</p><p>Read that again.</p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-10628839423770770282022-05-10T20:39:00.002-04:002022-05-10T20:39:51.474-04:00From screamer to screenwriter<p>Finding time to sit down and write can be challenging. Figuring out what to write can be just as challenging - I've been told I am "the sandwich" generation. Taking care of teenagers and my parents at the same time. Most of the time I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry.</p><p>My youngest son has always been very vocal. (That's being nice.) He's a fantastic fit thrower. When he was little he would scream when it was time to go pick up his brother from school. He would scream when it was time to leave a playdate. He would scream when it was time to go to bed. My neighbor finally said to me, "He's not good with transition". Well that much I had figured out!</p><p>He has come a long way over the years. There was the always screaming phase, the screaming when he was tired or angry phase (those might have been the same 10 years), the screaming when he was given consequences, and most recently screaming when he is tired or angry. Wait! We are going backwards. Crap.</p><p>Now a days he saves the screaming for interactions with his father. (I find it hard to reprimand him because his dad can lose it pretty quickly himself. Tree meet Apple.) But what I have seen more and more since Junior High is his sense of humor and his ability to defuse a difficulty or highly emotional situation. Thank Goodness! Because living with a Greek there is no shortage of highly emotional difficult situations. Deciding what to have for dinner can go DEFCON 5 in a heartbeat.</p><p>This New Year's Eve I texted everyone a question in the morning to think about during the day and have an answer ready for dinner. The questions was: someone you love woke up this morning with no memory of who they were....tell them about themselves.</p><p>My husband made notes but it was "You are all wonderful and beautiful. I have the best family and I am very lucky. I love you all very much." He was close - second language - he gets a pass. My oldest son shrugged. Being the one who sent out the question to begin with, feeling nostalgic and lonely for family, tradition, and ritual I wrote each person a three page paper. But it was my youngest who grabbed his phone and started typing as I finished dinner and the others set the table. My husband never stopped yelling at him to PUT HIS PHONE AWAY!!</p><p>When it came time to share, he pulled out his phone and started to read. You are Yiannis God of working out and Head of the Greek mafia. Recruited when you were just a boy, you infiltrated the mafia and made yourself indispensable by training all the hitmen. Bored with the Mafia life you came to America and posed as a college student where you met your future wife. You really had no intention of settling down but what you did not know about her was that she too was recruited at a young age to become a paid Siren for the CIA. There was no escaping her wiley ways once she got her sights set. After the CIA discovered that you were not a threat to anyone except the out of shape they deprogrammed both of you so that you could live happily ever after. But you had us and now you live angrily ever after.</p><p>Maybe there was something to all those screaming years......</p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-65353561692103699622022-02-08T19:41:00.003-05:002022-02-08T19:41:45.940-05:00How to make a "Karen"<p>In case you have been under a rock and are not familiar with the term "Karen" I can give you the #1-Urban Dictionary version - or #2- my teenagers version.</p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Source Sans Pro", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;">1. A woman whose behavior is characterized--by most standards--to be self-serving, self-preserving, self-entitled and is directly influenced by privilege.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Source Sans Pro", "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;">2.Me</span></p><p>First of all I want to make clear, this is NOT a defense of Karen's out there who have done ridiculous things like call the police on a dog walker, threatened a girl scout, or refused to wear their masks or said the hairdresser is their God Given right during the pandemic. </p><p>What I am trying to do is shed some light, for my sons, on how anyone even their mom can be pushed to the absolute limit. Thus - creating a Karen.</p><p>I have been under a lot of extra stress as of late while going back and forth to the hospital to support my friend. During that time my family has pitched in and helped out. There were certain things that they left for me - cleaning, shopping, cooking. Please note that during this time, I was still trying to call my mom, who has dementia, everyday. And work a part time job. And shower and sleep at some points. I have a feeling most women are nodding at this point.</p><p>So last Saturday when my husband was doing bills and saw something he didn't like in the checking account (the matter is pointless) he promptly started yelling at me. I told him that I would not argue with him about this because there was nothing we could do until Monday. He didn't like my answer. He stopped speaking to me. (It's Tuesday we have argued and snipped but still - not speaking. But also the issue could not be resolved on Monday.)</p><p>He was angry enough, we've been married long enough, that I knew on Saturday-I'd be in this for the long haul. That doesn't make it easier, or hurt any less. Also throughout the weekend I was still the mom of 18 and 15 year-old boys. Needless to say, I did not become any less annoying or any more smarter. (Ha! Get it, more smarter.) Likewise throughout the weekend, the world did not become any less divided or any more smarter. (now it's just depressing) We were down to one car because of Snowmageddon and thanks to a long overdue mail delivery, down to one driver because my husband got notice his drivers license was expired. I also had to rack up additional workhours getting things done because I was so far behind.</p><p>Fine. Monday. It was a ridiculous day at work. On top of that I called about the checking account issue (university charges) and they said "I'm sorry we can't talk to you because it's your son's account. He has to grant you access." My college aged son with no current job was too busy to grant said access (still not as of Tuesday night). Whatever. I got home from work and asked my husband if he needed a ride to the BMV. He said he made his own plan since he didn't know when I would be home. Hmmmmm??? 4 years now, I work M-TH 8-1pm. But, ok, Passive aggressive much? His ride cancelled so I took him. The BMV was packed so I waited in the car for 30 minutes. During that time I stupidly checked my email and see that I have a bill from the Dr office. Recent office visit for my son was $255.</p><p>My husband comes out still not speaking to me. The car is making an awful noise and then starts dinging. It needs gas, was all he said. We stop at the gas station on the way home. I drop him off and head straight to school to pick up the 15 year old from track. He is in a mood because we have taken away all video games until his math grade is a B and he failed his math test, again. As I am coming down the hill in school/rush hour traffic the car stalls. The power steering goes out. I am going down a hill toward a guardrail, a 50 foot drop, and a drainage ditch. While my teenager is yelling at me.</p><p>So when I get the wheel turned, throw the car in neutral and restart it, and get going again it was not fast enough for the person behind me and they proceeded to honk and gesture and be a $&%@ I lost my shit for the FIRST FREAKING TIME SINCE SATURDAY!!! </p><p>and my son mumbles, Don't be such a Karen. I turned on him. Do you want to know why there are Karen's? Because everyone is allowed to have a bad day EXCEPT ME! My teenagers are allowed to be shitty and yell at me, my husband is allowed to get pissed and stop talking to me, everyone at work is allowed to miss deadlines and ignore my emails, and on top of that people are allowed to honk and flip me off and I HAVE TO TAKE IT!!! @&$)%# &%#$*@ (*&#@!*$</p><p>We rode home in silence. He made me dinner. He chatted about school and life. He's given me unlimited hugs! He's checked in several times today to ask how I'm doing or just said I love you. My husband-still not talking to me. One out of three isn't bad. And it's the only thing keep me from going full on Karen all over the Insurance Company, the University, and my 18 year-old - but I think this will start to come out when my husband gets home. I'll try to restrain Karen, but I can't promise anything.</p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-84393322475488968552022-02-06T12:44:00.003-05:002022-02-06T12:44:52.476-05:00It's the moments that count....<p>The journey of parenting is a long and winding road. There are many hills, lots of hills, years of hills! My friend that was facing cancer surgery again, and again, is finally recovering at home. She is surrounded by her grown son's who have gone above and beyond to do whatever is needed for Mom. She is impressed - I am not surprised. She worked hard to raise good children - damn hard. She was a single mom with three kids - one with physical and developmental delays - no real spousal support or family support to speak of.</p><p>Everything that her boys are today is because of her! (Just my biased opinion) And they are amazing young men. They have picked up the ball at every down and run with it. Just like their cherished Bengals will do in the SUPERBOWL baby! Who Dey!! I digress.</p><p>Just the other day her son looked at her and said, "Mom. I don't know how you raised three of us all alone. I am in awe. Thank you. For all that you did for us growing up, because now I have just a hint of how hard it was." Go ahead get some tissues...I am too!</p><p>As I round a Century Old I feel like we still scare the shit out of people about having babies. When the reality is those babies are the easiest ones. Teenagers are the ones that will kill ya'! Or send you to jail for killing. Middle school and high school years are the literal reason for a hair color industry. I just read that being President of the US takes like 20 years off their life. The teenage years easily one up that.</p><p>I have been sending my friend a daily quote some inspirational some humor depending on her latest mood. After she texted me her son's words I found a beautiful picture with the infamous quote:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnE2gD-j6fbz8QzqNh9NVXHWWD6uNYCbrSadjT4w-ijuFHTkNFqm4AMZyloZtT8G1JeOJvSWjgJJ2pA3iV31mbVs2eXPxefYwcPghyE_OEy3Ph0VzPjGs0lXzvXNan5S0k4RYcNTFdUbWATAGbWnr4pVLpBnrc4l8x9-5NLdq_3wns4PTeOOiR4qw=s180" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="166" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnE2gD-j6fbz8QzqNh9NVXHWWD6uNYCbrSadjT4w-ijuFHTkNFqm4AMZyloZtT8G1JeOJvSWjgJJ2pA3iV31mbVs2eXPxefYwcPghyE_OEy3Ph0VzPjGs0lXzvXNan5S0k4RYcNTFdUbWATAGbWnr4pVLpBnrc4l8x9-5NLdq_3wns4PTeOOiR4qw" width="166" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So much of what she is going through right now is a struggle and that moment - that moment that your grown son realizes how much it took for you to get through the day - and thanks you. That is pure parenting gold. It helps to put back into your life force some of what they extracted with door slamming, silent treatment, and Algebra II. (Why are we still teaching this??)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Don't let the golden parenting moments go by without taking a breath and saying Thank you. I did it because I love you. I did because you are worth it. I did it because I knew someday we would have a moment just like this.</div><br /><p><br /></p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-70854107483353050392022-01-19T19:49:00.000-05:002022-01-19T19:49:00.676-05:00When I'm sorry is not enough....<p>If I looked back through my blogs I know that I will find an entry from 5 years ago when I wrote about my friend who was diagnosed with cancer. </p><p>Here we are 5 years later - it's back.</p><p>And after another horrendously painful and extensive surgery she was due to go home tomorrow, I was on my way back to the hospital tonight when I got a call that they rushed her back into the OR.</p><p>I am at a loss for words. "I'm sorry" are not sufficient to convey the depth of guilt and grief I feel for the pain and suffering she has endured. Both surgeries have now resulted in a trauma not just to her body but to her soul. And as her friend, her person, her "family" my heart breaks. She doesn't deserve ANY of this but feeling terrified and being alone - feeling <u><i>all alone</i></u>. No one deserves that. Especially someone this good.</p><p>My prayers tonight are not just for the surgeons skilled hands and God's grace but that she may heal both inside and out. May her soul heal as well.</p><p><br /></p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-76991451706222031902022-01-01T13:38:00.004-05:002022-01-01T13:38:27.226-05:00Welcome 2022<p>I didn't even go back and look at prior New Year's post but considering my relationship to resolutions there is no need. I laid awake last night as I always do, trying to replay the year in my head. Mostly I sit and breathe through the panic attack that is me the Monkey's screaming :WHAT HAVE YOU DONE THIS YEAR!!!!"</p><p>So you see why I do not like resolutions - it just gives the Monkey's fuel for the New Year's Dumpster fire at Midnight. But last night after my husband lost it at me because evidently I had lost it at him all day, we cut the New Year's cake in silence. Then he went to bed. I sat there replaying the day, the years, my entire life. HAPPY NEW YEAR party of 1.</p><p>We will all be headed back to work and school on Monday - and we will start the race all over again. Mark, Set, GO! Sigh.....nope. Two dinners left. So I am giving my family homework. Your loved one has suffered a blow to the head and they have retrograde amnesia. They wake up and have no idea who you are, but more important, they don't know who THEY are....that's up to you.</p><p>Write a not to your family member and tell them all about themselves.</p><p>What do you tell them? How do you describe them-to them?</p><p>My hope? That when we step back for a moment we can look at loved ones with love and not the annoyance of normal everyday living. Yes. One of us will always be the task master, One of us the martyr. One of us the Diva, etc etc. You know what I mean! If you are a member of a family you get it. We take each other and their roles for granted. </p><p>Instead of resolutions this year - try asking your loved ones to describe yourself to you. Open your heart and your mind and let's fil this year with LOVE. Happy New Year.</p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-58168004671738740342021-12-28T21:41:00.005-05:002021-12-28T21:41:41.300-05:00Bless you Child<p>I have two teenage boys. 18 and 15 right now. There are not many moments that take my breathe away - in a good way. Trust me they take my breathe away on a daily basis!! It's more of the - Oh No You Didn't! Hold my breathe - Don't kill them. Kind of take my breath away.</p><p>But recently my youngest, who is my most hormonally challenged was standing on my last nerve as usual. So I stopped engaging in conversation and focused on making dinner. He was "working on homework" at the kitchen table while I cooked. I cut myself, I screwed up the recipe, I had to go down the basement 4 times to get items I forgot. Finally I stood looking out the kitchen window silently crying. Between the constant arguing with my son, my mom's dementia, and my inability to get dinner on the table I was done.</p><p>My son just walked over and hugged me. If that wasn't enough he said, "It's ok Mom." It's not I sobbed, Nanna has Dementia, her mom had Dementia, I probably already have it because I can't even make dinner! That's when my snarky 15 year-old son said "Ok first of all you do not have Dementia yet but even if you do get it you have us Mom, and I promise to take care of you."</p><p>How do you stop crying after that? Well, with this child, quickly because not wanting to miss an opportunity to make a joke he adds, "Besides by the time you get Dementia I will be a Professional Soccer Player who makes so much money I can put you in a really nice home and hire help. It's alllllll good."</p><p>It was the thought that counted and the recording I got.</p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-73433198909992669082021-12-19T21:10:00.003-05:002021-12-19T21:10:38.848-05:00I'll never make it on NPR<p>I realized to day as I was listening to The Splendid Table that I will never make it on NPR. When it was time to replace Lynne Rosetto Kasper who did they choose? Francis Lamb. Who hosts Science Friday? Ira Flatow. And there's Ira Glass, Lakshmi Singh, Sylvia Poggiolo....I do not have a cool enough name!! Depressing.</p><p>Maybe I should change my name - or get a really good alias?! Remember when Phoebe changed her name to Princess Consuela Banana Hammock? And Karen Walker would wipe our her alias in a heartbeat - Anastasia Beaverhausen. I'm not a Dude or a vampire slayer - but Buffy Lebowski has a unique ring. </p><p>Some options have been ruined by popular culture. Once upon a time, the name Hermione would have gotten me a direct line into NPR. Not any more. Being named after a city or state is not longer one off either. There are Dakota's, Carolina's, Boston's, and Brooklyn's.</p><p>If I can't come up with the perfect unique name all of my dreams of NPR fame are doomed!</p><p>Is there NPR fame? Do any of you even know what I am talking about? Maybe my in at NPR is not my name but my angle. My unique voice! Sigh - like 50 year-old suburban soccer mom's are "unique". I'm doomed.</p><p>Well - if anyone has a suggestions I will take it. I don't have much left, but this dream. It's NPR or BUST.</p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-47258404277322716762021-11-21T14:07:00.002-05:002021-11-21T14:07:33.367-05:00The Squeaky Wheel gets the Grease<p>Our dinner discussion recently centered around certain saying we will never understand. One of my son's mentioned never understanding the saying, "They can't see the forest for the trees," I'm 50 years old. I am not sure that I understand it. At one point I thought yeah yeah I get it...someone who is only looking at this not the bigger picture. But then the fixed vs growth mindset and mindfulness movement took off and it stresses staying in the now, the moment, the trees. Now I am confused again.</p><p>Another saying that came up was "the squeaky wheel gets the grease". My kids have heard this numerous times because I have one son (like me) who will not open his mouth. Then I have one son (like his father) who can't shut up. This saying comes up in conversation a lot with my older son as I try to tell him that advocating for himself is important. Teachers, coaches, friends, parents can not help you if you do not communicate with them. </p><p>What is the opposite saying from "The squeaky wheel gets the Grease?" What do I say to my younger son who squeaks about everything! and I do mean E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G!!! But he is in a generation, a current culture that reinforces this idea of Squeak! Squeak away! Everything you think and feel is tragic, epic, and important.</p><p>Call me old. No really, I am, it's all good. I have not found enough hard scientific evidence to confirm this phenomenon. We chickens have not produced a generation of Eagles that are far superior. It is exhausting. Having to adhere to a dress code is not a sexist antifeminine fascist regime. Baseball does not need to change the name of the Bullpen because cattle might be offended. And no one cares what you eat for every meal, how many times you workout, or every single outfit change. YOU ARE NOT AN EAGLE.</p><p>Every generation should strive to be better. To right some wrongs. Teach their children well. But that generation should also learn their history because if they do not, they are doomed to repeat it. Do we not have enough examples in history to know that powers divide so they can conquer?! We are in this together! We are all human and we have more in common than difference. We all seek to survive, procreate, and protect.</p><p>Social Media is the most Unsocial thing there is! Facebook has literally wiped out human interaction. People sit next to each other "sharing" posts instead of talking. Followers are not friends. Friends are the people who show up to help you move, watch your kids when you have the flu, or drive you back and forth to Chemo. Celebrities are human beings that WE as other human beings have decided to make an Eagle. Yet, once we make them an Eagle we get pissed that they are up there and then start hacking at their wings. God forbid those Eagle soar unlike us chickens stuck here pecking at the ground.</p><p>What is the opposite saying? How do I teach my children when to squeak and when to silence their squeak and keep moving. How do I teach my children that being a chicken is just as valuable - more valuable- than being an Eagle? Eagles are rare, beautiful, and majestic, Chickens are too. How do I know. Because I am a chicken, surrounded by chickens that I love. That astound and amaze and humble me everyday.</p><p>My 80 year-old neighbor who was in IT from the start of it all still volunteers his time to underprivileged schools that need IT services. My Aunt the life-long nurse retired to volunteer at Hospice. And so many people that I have met while working in Non-profit! Engineers that give their time to build adaptations for children's with special needs, CEO's who give their time to read resumes and give mock interviews, people who donate their sewing skills to adapt pajamas for patients at Children's hospital, the teachers that have done more than babysit my children but have pushed them harder, made them walk taller, loved them like their own!!! the list goes on and on AND ON!</p><p>Those chickens....those chickens make the world a better place. Without social media, without fame or fortune, just by being their own rare and beautiful self. This is what I strive to teach my two beautiful chickens. The world needs more chickens than it does Eagles, and being an Eagle isn't any easier than being a chicken.</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FzEPcdVvHAE" target="_blank">SNL clip </a><br /></p><p>My chicken and eagle reference is from the brilliant Poet Taylor Mali. If the SNL clip made you laugh check out his poem <a href="https://taylormali.com/poems/what-teachers-make/" target="_blank">What Teachers Make</a></p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-309181020984899552021-11-11T17:30:00.003-05:002021-11-11T17:30:52.877-05:00What a day!<p>For anyone with teenagers, you know how few days are - WOW! Today was one of those rare days for my youngest son. He got in the car and said - Wait till you hear about today. I held my breath for the first few minutes but it wasn't one of those days....</p><p>His day started with a power outage. OK, simple snag, right. Just getting started, next the fire alarms go off, not just once but several times leaving everyone outside for 45 minutes. The power outage did not just turn out the lights, it also blew powers strips and other items. (Uh oh) The bigger issue, whatever it was that blew up at the Elementary school across the lot sent the kids and teachers running. (so to speak) After alerting the little ones parents, they brought the remaining students over to the High School where the generators finally kicked in. They didn't have all their lights, internet, etc. But they could run the cafeteria and that's all the school district needs to keep them at school. (not the high point for my teenager) However, he was stupefied that while running on generators the cafeteria managed to make the best lunch yet.</p><p>The schedule was already modified today to accommodate presentations for all the 10th grade. The morning craziness just added to the overall destruction of a productive day. He talked more about all the people he hung out with during the fire alarm, who he talked with during the presentation, lunch on the fly, and getting the scoop during his study hall which he spends helping run passes in the counselors office. </p><p>What is the WOW part - my son talking animatedly all the way home. He didn't grump, growl, or snark at me. He didn't get on his phone. This is truly a gift to the parent of a teenager. Several minutes of respite from being the stupidest person on earth. A glimpse back to the wide-eyed little one that wanted to tell you all about their day. A moment to remember and yet look forward because as long as these days seem, they will not last forever.</p><p>Here's to a Crazy Day!!</p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-35881233880612281152021-10-15T13:08:00.001-04:002021-10-15T13:08:12.490-04:00How to raise a Hostage Negotiator<p>My youngest son is also my most stubborn son. But let me say - not the most stubborn in the house - that Award goes to my husband. Stubborn people get a bad rap and understandably as I have spent hours complaining about it I can not deny that. If I look at the last 25 years with my stubborn husband, there are times when it worked to his advantage. Not mine maybe but his. And I also have to add that with stubbornness comes Passion. Great, Huge, Bigger than life Passion.</p><p>It is with great passion and stubbornness that my youngest son is writing an argumentative essay on why students should get less homework. Although he is not the first person to write this essay as a quick Google search reveals, I am quite confident he is the most persuasive.</p><p>This is the child who could tantrum for 3 hours straight for no real reason we could see other than he didn't want to go to bed. This is the child who could scream for 35 minutes about having to pick up his toys. This is the tween who had over 50 reason why he could not take a shower two days in a row. He is now the teenager who goes toe to toe with his Dad everyday on everything because, "He thinks he can do whatever he wants and get away with it!"</p><p>Do you see why we have been calling him the hostage negotiator since he was born!</p><p>We were "discussing" his essay the other day after I asked him to go home after practice and take a shower first before he started his homework. I didn't want worms for dinner but since I opened the can..."I have too much homework to do. I am a student first, without good grades I will never get into college. I can't take a shower first I won't get to bed on time and I'll be off my sleep schedule. If teachers didn't give so much homework I wouldn't be screaming at you - it's all their fault! Studies show that homework is not effective - most of it is busy work - and 60% if it does not even get graded...." </p><p>There are days this isn't funny. Exhausting. Annoying. Hurtful. Not funny. But when I have a moment to step back, listen, think - How can he use his powers for good? That's when I wonder - if stubborn indignance is just passion undirected? If I can motivate that passion in the right direction, I know that he can take over the world. Or at least get High School students less homework.</p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-72002947813718169642021-10-03T06:28:00.001-04:002021-10-03T06:28:10.374-04:00What's the hardest thing about Parenting?<p> All of it!</p><p>Recently, I was talking to a friend who is a HS administrator. I asked "How's it going?" Knowing this was probably a tough question to answer considering the last two school years. He gave a heavy sigh, and said, "It is not the year we expected, but there is more good than bad."</p><p>Afterwards I thought about his response and figured that is why he has been able to do his job for so many years. He looks for the good, he doesn't count up the bad. I think this could sum up Parenting. If someone had told you before you had kids, You'll go from 2 am feedings to 2 am phone calls in about a minute. Oh, and in between, every time you think you have it figured out, it changes. Good Luck. Would you still do it?</p><p>This parenting game is hard. The rules aren't set, the manual is incomplete, and everything and Everyone is always changing. There are the days when I am parenting and being parented all at the same time. I thought looking up the definition would help solidify this for me: The activity of bring up a child. Thank you Captain Obvious.</p><p>What is the hardest thing about Parenting?</p><p>Not knowing. Never knowing. And at the age that I am, taking care of my parents.</p><p>I wish that my Grandparents were still around, because I think I am really ready to hear what they were trying to tell me all those years ago. At age 16, I couldn't imagine being a mom, let alone having to take care of mine. Grandparents know this and they try to tell us those pearls of wisdom, but we can't hear what we are not quite ready for.</p><p>I wonder what my Grandparents would have said if I'd asked - What was the hardest part thing about being a parent? Then I remember all the hugs and kisses and hearing them all say - The Best part of being a Parent is having grandchildren.....I guess they did answer after all.</p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-27922183099889936092021-09-04T10:26:00.002-04:002021-09-04T10:26:53.775-04:00Kindness counts<p> Three things happened recently that showed my family how much-Kindness counts.</p><p>One of the soccer moms stopped me to say how much she appreciated my son going out of his way to be kind to her son. I thanked her and then made my typical sarcastic remark, "We'll let him eat tonight." My son knew that the injured player was struggling and he knows how that feels. Watching every practice, sitting on the bench during the game, feeling like "poop". Not his actual words, but I can't type that here.</p><p>My oldest son has been getting up early to workout before class each day so he is one of the first and only people in the cafeteria. Two days in a row he watched someone struggling to get breakfast due to a language barrier. On the third day, not knowing the students native language but hoping it was worth a try he said Hello in Mandarin. The students face lite up. The cobbled together a little Mandarin and a lot of hand signals and he helped him get breakfast. The student cam back later and held up his smartphone which read, "Thank you so much. My name is Sung I am Korean. You helped me very much."</p><p>I have been interviewing candidates and trying to hire someone at work. Finding someone has been difficult. Having formerly helped people build their resume and learn interview skills I find myself giving out more tips then finding candidates. Twice now in the interview the candidate has broken down about the struggle to find a job and the anxiety of interviewing. Both times we stopped, took a deep breathe, and I shared with them tips and tricks as well as my own stories of struggle to find work.</p><p>My family knows that I am interviewing candidates and they ask how it's going. I have shared with them what a struggle it is, especially now, to be in the job market. In my pre-kids life I worked for a Non-profit agency that helped people build their resume, learn interview skills, and worked with employers directly to find them employment. Needless to say I am willing to overlook the poorly written resume and help them our during the interview. I may not have a candidate yet, but I have helped quite a few job seekers do better the next time.</p><p>My husband and I preach a lot about being kind, helping where you can, making a real connection with people. I am always hoping we have also been an example of this, but many times the opportunities that present themselves are not in front of others. Hearing thank you from another mom, hearing my son say someone stopped to thank him, tells me that they don't have to be there to see it. And that Kindness Counts!!</p><p><br /></p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1570480054623038324.post-36509014964868784062021-09-04T09:46:00.005-04:002021-09-04T09:46:28.132-04:00Chchchchanges<p> "Turn and face the change...ChChChChanges"</p><p>I totally flaked on the First Day of School!! It came and went. I didn't get a picture. I'm not even sure that I texted anyone, Good Luck. Sigh</p><p>The energy in the house has changed. It's throwing me off. I'm not sure if it's a permanent thing seeing as we down a man, playing one short. Or the new norm. But I don't think that I am the only one feeling it. My youngest who could ride to school, and practice, and events all last year with his brother is back to riding with me. For me, it's great. As most parents know that time in the car is like a truth bubble, where you finally get to hear about what's really going on in their world. I'm not sure he's feeling it.</p><p>I want to make the most of this alone time with our youngest. When you are the second you don't get that "only child" time much. But I am just not how- and I know that he is not looking for it. He ahs let me sit and watch Anime with him, as long as I don't ask any questions. Have you ever watched Anime? SO MANY QUESTIONS!!</p><p>He has less dietary restrictions than my older son and myself so I have let him dictate the menu. Not the greatest move for my stomach but he seems, happy? How do you tell when a 15 year-old is happy?</p><p>This child, taking after my husband, loves to argue - about everything. So while I normally avoid starting any conversation without - Or Else! - I have tried to engage in a little lively debate. Yeah, that 's not ending so well either.</p><p>But I'm learning! I'm trying. Because its time for change. ugh. Stay tuned!</p>whatsupnowTEDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11339307772435292735noreply@blogger.com0