I’m an “irregular” grandma. Don’t know what that is? Let me tell you. I married a man with grown children and young grandchildren. At first, I was “Grandma Kathy” but that didn’t sit too well with my husbands ex. I told the grandchildren that they could call me Kathy and it would be just fine. We could love each other no matter what names we used.
That worked for face to face contact but the kids got confused when trying to refer to Grandmas not there at the moment. One of the 4yr.olds began calling the other grandmother “my regular grandma” which made me the “irregular grandma”. I loved it and that’s what I am. And overtime they started alternating between Grandma and Kathy. I answer to both.
Why do we make things so difficult? We need to take lessons from the children around us. We as adults seem to think that we are in competition for their love and affection. We concern ourselves more with being CORRECT than with what’s RIGHT. Children just see more people to love them and the more the merrier.
A few years ago we were helping one of our son’s family move into a new place. His children are only a few years younger than my youngest two girls. Things got a little confusing when the landlord stopped by and asked my youngest to get her dad. She brought Brent. It took a few minutes to straighten up the family tree. My daughter finally grabbed Jon and said, “This is my BROTHER not my dad!”
Another of my grandchildren has it all figured out too. Whenever his family would spot my car they say, “There’s Kathy’s car, everybody wave.” And they all would.
However, when they were headed over for a visit, they’d say “We’re going to visit Papa Brent and Grandma.” One day, the children were at my house and my husband had to run an errand. Jacob, the toddler at the time, came running in the house calling, “Grandma, Grandma, Kathy’s car is GONE!” See how simple it is?
That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?
Monday, August 30, 2010
Friday, August 27, 2010
Reality
Two of my daughters were spinning fantasy webs this morning. One is going to become a famous writer. The other will be a famous singer. Both will make lots of money and buy me a mansion with “ginormous” rooms. One mentioned that her mansion would have maid service and that I would never have to work or clean again. This brought an immediate, fervent reply from her sister, “Mom would hate that. She loves to work and clean!”
At this point in the conversation, I interjected one short statement that totally rocked their world. If any of my other children are reading this, they need to sit down. I HATE CLEANING!!!! I went on to state that the two things I hate the most are laundry and dishes. “But you do them the most”, was their reply.
Yes, I do. I also have spent years scrubbing toilets, changing diapers, cleaning up puke (animal and human) and all sorts of other equally disgusting jobs. I have pulled out ticks, pried off bloodsuckers and picked out enough nits (lice eggs) to qualify me as serious competition in any ape family. I have dug threw countless bags of stinky, rotten, sometimes maggoty garbage looking for homework, earrings, money, teeth retainers, etc. All of this with what used to be a really quick gag reflex.
WHY??? The obvious answer is- SOMEBODY had to do it. The easy answer is -because I’m Mom, that’s my job. The real answer is- that I hate dirty kitchens, dirty clothes, and dirty kids MORE than I hate the work. I can’t do the things I LOVE to do. I can’t cook in a dirty kitchen, I can’t wear dirty clothes and I can’t cuddle dirty children.
HOW??? The obvious answer is- you get used to it. The easy answer is- moms don’t mind gross things because they love you. The real answer is a little hard to explain. It’s kind of a Jedi mind thing- you learn to focus on something other than what you are actually doing. Instead of thinking about how disgusting the poop, throw up, bugs, etc. are you focus on the person you are giving that service to.
Let me give you an example. A few years ago, we had an extended family campout together. There was a swimming hole at the campsite that included mud and bloodsuckers (leeches). We were hot enough that despite fear, most of us went in. The first one out of the water was freaked by the small muddy things on her legs and panic ensued. I calmly pulled every leech off every child.
When I got to the last one, I held it in my hand long enough for each person there to examine it closely. My husband and stepson were very impressed with my ability to do so. What they didn’t know was how grossed out I was by the slimy wiggling bloody thing!! I was more concerned that the children have a good learning experience. Boy, did the two of them laugh when lesson over, kids gone, I screamed and flung the damn thing as far away as I could.
Maybe it IS just a mom thing. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?
At this point in the conversation, I interjected one short statement that totally rocked their world. If any of my other children are reading this, they need to sit down. I HATE CLEANING!!!! I went on to state that the two things I hate the most are laundry and dishes. “But you do them the most”, was their reply.
Yes, I do. I also have spent years scrubbing toilets, changing diapers, cleaning up puke (animal and human) and all sorts of other equally disgusting jobs. I have pulled out ticks, pried off bloodsuckers and picked out enough nits (lice eggs) to qualify me as serious competition in any ape family. I have dug threw countless bags of stinky, rotten, sometimes maggoty garbage looking for homework, earrings, money, teeth retainers, etc. All of this with what used to be a really quick gag reflex.
WHY??? The obvious answer is- SOMEBODY had to do it. The easy answer is -because I’m Mom, that’s my job. The real answer is- that I hate dirty kitchens, dirty clothes, and dirty kids MORE than I hate the work. I can’t do the things I LOVE to do. I can’t cook in a dirty kitchen, I can’t wear dirty clothes and I can’t cuddle dirty children.
HOW??? The obvious answer is- you get used to it. The easy answer is- moms don’t mind gross things because they love you. The real answer is a little hard to explain. It’s kind of a Jedi mind thing- you learn to focus on something other than what you are actually doing. Instead of thinking about how disgusting the poop, throw up, bugs, etc. are you focus on the person you are giving that service to.
Let me give you an example. A few years ago, we had an extended family campout together. There was a swimming hole at the campsite that included mud and bloodsuckers (leeches). We were hot enough that despite fear, most of us went in. The first one out of the water was freaked by the small muddy things on her legs and panic ensued. I calmly pulled every leech off every child.
When I got to the last one, I held it in my hand long enough for each person there to examine it closely. My husband and stepson were very impressed with my ability to do so. What they didn’t know was how grossed out I was by the slimy wiggling bloody thing!! I was more concerned that the children have a good learning experience. Boy, did the two of them laugh when lesson over, kids gone, I screamed and flung the damn thing as far away as I could.
Maybe it IS just a mom thing. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Christmas Story
Oh, the stories my children could tell about me and discipline!!! If I had any money, they could blackmail me to ensure their silence. Since I’m not loaded, I thought maybe I could beat them to the punch and tell on myself.
The most infamous was caught on video. It’s on a surprisingly peaceful Christmas morning. I’m sitting on the couch supervising six children under the age of ten opening their gifts. I am keeping the baby (number 7) occupied. There is at least an hour of pleasant footage. But only the very inexperienced of parents would be deceived. It seems rather easy to me to see that I am on high alert. Eyes darting here and there, reaching over to help tear wrapping paper before frustration sets in, reminding about inside voices, leave your sister’s things alone please, etc.
All of a sudden, one of the children starts into meltdown. It’s the one that can go from totally calm to complete insanity in less than 10 seconds. There I am- flying off the couch to get him before he can hurt someone. He’s screaming, “Where’s my stocking? Who took my stocking?” over and over again. I’m trying to get him to listen to me, “No one has your stocking. It’s lost, we’ll find it.”
I might as well try to stop a train with my bare hands. He’s not listening. By the time, I’ve put down the baby, carefully chosen my path across the children, toy, wrapping paper maze that was my living room floor, he has been screaming for almost 2 minutes. It seems like 2 hours! Then I melt down- before you can even blink, I’m boxing his ears and shouting “NOBODY took your stocking, go sit on the couch until you can calm down!”
Watching this has become a family Christmas tradition. It even beats out “It’s a Wonderful Life” for family ratings. I thought it couldn’t get any worse. Boy was I wrong!
This year as we sat gathered around the TV for our annual Mom’s meltdown movie we saw something we had never noticed before. Actually, my eldest son and his wife saw it. About twenty minutes before the Big Event as I was sitting on the couch nursing the baby, I reached over absent mindedly, picked up an empty stocking and tossed it behind the tree. Guess whose it was?
They watched it three times adding a running commentary, “there she goes, right there, she’s got the stocking, she tosses, it’s going, going, oh, it’s gone!”
I’m pretty sure that I’m going to skip Christmas this year.
That’s the view from my side of the street today. What’s yours?
The most infamous was caught on video. It’s on a surprisingly peaceful Christmas morning. I’m sitting on the couch supervising six children under the age of ten opening their gifts. I am keeping the baby (number 7) occupied. There is at least an hour of pleasant footage. But only the very inexperienced of parents would be deceived. It seems rather easy to me to see that I am on high alert. Eyes darting here and there, reaching over to help tear wrapping paper before frustration sets in, reminding about inside voices, leave your sister’s things alone please, etc.
All of a sudden, one of the children starts into meltdown. It’s the one that can go from totally calm to complete insanity in less than 10 seconds. There I am- flying off the couch to get him before he can hurt someone. He’s screaming, “Where’s my stocking? Who took my stocking?” over and over again. I’m trying to get him to listen to me, “No one has your stocking. It’s lost, we’ll find it.”
I might as well try to stop a train with my bare hands. He’s not listening. By the time, I’ve put down the baby, carefully chosen my path across the children, toy, wrapping paper maze that was my living room floor, he has been screaming for almost 2 minutes. It seems like 2 hours! Then I melt down- before you can even blink, I’m boxing his ears and shouting “NOBODY took your stocking, go sit on the couch until you can calm down!”
Watching this has become a family Christmas tradition. It even beats out “It’s a Wonderful Life” for family ratings. I thought it couldn’t get any worse. Boy was I wrong!
This year as we sat gathered around the TV for our annual Mom’s meltdown movie we saw something we had never noticed before. Actually, my eldest son and his wife saw it. About twenty minutes before the Big Event as I was sitting on the couch nursing the baby, I reached over absent mindedly, picked up an empty stocking and tossed it behind the tree. Guess whose it was?
They watched it three times adding a running commentary, “there she goes, right there, she’s got the stocking, she tosses, it’s going, going, oh, it’s gone!”
I’m pretty sure that I’m going to skip Christmas this year.
That’s the view from my side of the street today. What’s yours?
Monday, August 23, 2010
Mothers Guilt
There is a crippling disease that is at epidemic proportions. But there are no telethons devoted to it. There are no research groups searching frantically for the cure. No marathons are run to raise public awareness. There are no big headlines calling for the world’s attention. As a matter of fact, it is usually not talked about at all even among its victims. What is this crippling disease, you ask? It is simply called “mother guilt”.
Those of us that have suffered the sometimes paralyzing symptoms of this affliction know without a doubt that we have ruined our children’s lives forever. Our children will be the first to say so. Our husbands often confirm this. Our friends may offer support but the fact is that that deep down they want to believe that whatever you did is worse than them because they are fellow sufferers.
It’s amazing what can cause us to feel this guilt. I remember well my first attack. My firstborn was only a few days old when I decided to cut his fingernails. (Actually, he was born with claws.) Confidently, I picked up the cute little tiny nail clippers and proceeded to cut the tips of his tiny fingers. He waved his hand around as he screamed in protest. Drops of baby blood went everywhere. I felt like an axe murderer.
There was the time I stood taking pictures of my eight week old second son. He was in his seat on the kitchen table. He had dropped a toy and was bending over in an attempt to recover it. I was fascinated by the fact that he was trying to scoot his seat closer to the toy. I mean, how many 8 week olds do that? I continued snapping pictures while he scooted himself right off the table!
I could share hundreds of such moments but what I want to share is the CURE that I found. Luckily, it came fairly early in my mothering career. It came from a story I heard from another mother. She was a very busy woman with a large family. Every Saturday for years found her trying to do all the needed Saturday things as well as wanting to get the Sunday things ready, too. No matter how hard she tried she seemed to find herself ironing white shirts every Sunday morning. She felt guilty for years until her oldest left home. His first letter home said these words, “Mom, I miss sliding my arms into a freshly ironed shirt just before church. That always felt like Sunday to me.”
I vowed than and there that I would banish mother guilt forever. It helps that I bought a plaque that said, “So I’m NOT supermom, deal with it.” It hangs in a prominent place in my home.
That’s the view from my side of the street. What’s yours?
Those of us that have suffered the sometimes paralyzing symptoms of this affliction know without a doubt that we have ruined our children’s lives forever. Our children will be the first to say so. Our husbands often confirm this. Our friends may offer support but the fact is that that deep down they want to believe that whatever you did is worse than them because they are fellow sufferers.
It’s amazing what can cause us to feel this guilt. I remember well my first attack. My firstborn was only a few days old when I decided to cut his fingernails. (Actually, he was born with claws.) Confidently, I picked up the cute little tiny nail clippers and proceeded to cut the tips of his tiny fingers. He waved his hand around as he screamed in protest. Drops of baby blood went everywhere. I felt like an axe murderer.
There was the time I stood taking pictures of my eight week old second son. He was in his seat on the kitchen table. He had dropped a toy and was bending over in an attempt to recover it. I was fascinated by the fact that he was trying to scoot his seat closer to the toy. I mean, how many 8 week olds do that? I continued snapping pictures while he scooted himself right off the table!
I could share hundreds of such moments but what I want to share is the CURE that I found. Luckily, it came fairly early in my mothering career. It came from a story I heard from another mother. She was a very busy woman with a large family. Every Saturday for years found her trying to do all the needed Saturday things as well as wanting to get the Sunday things ready, too. No matter how hard she tried she seemed to find herself ironing white shirts every Sunday morning. She felt guilty for years until her oldest left home. His first letter home said these words, “Mom, I miss sliding my arms into a freshly ironed shirt just before church. That always felt like Sunday to me.”
I vowed than and there that I would banish mother guilt forever. It helps that I bought a plaque that said, “So I’m NOT supermom, deal with it.” It hangs in a prominent place in my home.
That’s the view from my side of the street. What’s yours?
Friday, August 20, 2010
TV
I spent a few days watching television last week. I didn’t mean to. I had made the ten hour trip to visit children and grandchildren. They very kindly shared a flu bug with me. Since staying in close proximity to a bathroom seemed the wisest choice, I vegged on the couch and watched TV.
We have not had regular TV for a number of years. At first it was disconnected due to a payment dispute. We had been on auto pay for several years with no problem. Someone in their office typed the wrong number in and we were shutoff. I was pissy about the way they were treating the problem so I refused to reconnect. We were already thru our TV withdrawal period by then anyway!
Then we were on the road trucking and didn’t need it. Next we were way too busy with our management job to have time and we didn’t have the right kind of television anyway.When it again became an option, we looked at the life we were building without it and decided we really didn’t want it after all. Here are a few of the reasons why.
We loved the peace and quiet in our home, which lead to peace and quiet in our hearts and minds. It gave us time to think and commune with ourselves. We began listening to music more. We talked to each other more. We listened to each other better. We read more, sang more and a few times danced.
We called friends and family more often to fill in those “empty” hours. We found that connecting with real people in our lives was way more fulfilling than keeping caught up with TV people.
We went to bed earlier. Instead of staring at the tube until we passed out every night, we might watch a movie or Netflix and we go to bed when it’s over. We don’t get caught up in what’s on next. The blank screen wasn’t too inviting!
We realized that we were actually getting a lot done everyday. It was hard to admit how many hours we were really spending just doing nothing but sitting and staring. We found out that our quality of life had improved greatly so we choose to “just say no” to the TV drug.But as I said, last week found me tasting just a little bit and I found some new reasons to be glad we don’t have it.
Channel surfing- what’s up with that? It gives everyone an attention span of what 2 minutes? If you’re going to watch a show, watch it! I’m wondering if it’s a commitment problem……
Reality shows- I’m afraid that everyone is so busy watching other people’s lives that they are forgetting to live their own.
Food shows- No wonder we are all getting fat, who can watch these shows and not be hungry?
News networks- you can watch all day but you are still only getting the information they want you to have. We should be getting our information from more than one source.
Commercials- I realized how much I LOVE not having my home bombarded by salesman all day! It doesn’t bother me that I don’t know about the latest movies, sex aids, diets, cleaning products, etc. And you know what- even after years of not watching, there was still nothing good to watch!
That’s the view from my side of the street. What's yours?
We have not had regular TV for a number of years. At first it was disconnected due to a payment dispute. We had been on auto pay for several years with no problem. Someone in their office typed the wrong number in and we were shutoff. I was pissy about the way they were treating the problem so I refused to reconnect. We were already thru our TV withdrawal period by then anyway!
Then we were on the road trucking and didn’t need it. Next we were way too busy with our management job to have time and we didn’t have the right kind of television anyway.When it again became an option, we looked at the life we were building without it and decided we really didn’t want it after all. Here are a few of the reasons why.
We loved the peace and quiet in our home, which lead to peace and quiet in our hearts and minds. It gave us time to think and commune with ourselves. We began listening to music more. We talked to each other more. We listened to each other better. We read more, sang more and a few times danced.
We called friends and family more often to fill in those “empty” hours. We found that connecting with real people in our lives was way more fulfilling than keeping caught up with TV people.
We went to bed earlier. Instead of staring at the tube until we passed out every night, we might watch a movie or Netflix and we go to bed when it’s over. We don’t get caught up in what’s on next. The blank screen wasn’t too inviting!
We realized that we were actually getting a lot done everyday. It was hard to admit how many hours we were really spending just doing nothing but sitting and staring. We found out that our quality of life had improved greatly so we choose to “just say no” to the TV drug.But as I said, last week found me tasting just a little bit and I found some new reasons to be glad we don’t have it.
Channel surfing- what’s up with that? It gives everyone an attention span of what 2 minutes? If you’re going to watch a show, watch it! I’m wondering if it’s a commitment problem……
Reality shows- I’m afraid that everyone is so busy watching other people’s lives that they are forgetting to live their own.
Food shows- No wonder we are all getting fat, who can watch these shows and not be hungry?
News networks- you can watch all day but you are still only getting the information they want you to have. We should be getting our information from more than one source.
Commercials- I realized how much I LOVE not having my home bombarded by salesman all day! It doesn’t bother me that I don’t know about the latest movies, sex aids, diets, cleaning products, etc. And you know what- even after years of not watching, there was still nothing good to watch!
That’s the view from my side of the street. What's yours?
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Totem Pole
“Low man on the totem pole”- what comes to mind as you read these words? Or maybe I should ask who comes to mind? Is there someone in your life that comes to mind? Is it someone at your workplace, at the gym, in your neighborhood or in your home? Is it you?
It seems to be human nature to attach worth to each individual according to whatever our personal ideas of worth are. Is your idea of worth money? If it is, than your totem pole has those who make more at the top .Those who make less are on the bottom.
Is your idea of worth position? Then the rungs on your ladder are very clear to you. Management is at the top and maybe the cleaning lady at the bottom.
Are you the kind of person who add up someone’s worth by the amount of things that person owns? If so, the have-nots are at the bottom of your heap and those who have are at the top.
Right about now, I know there are some of you that are indignantly thinking, no way! Probably, you go to church regularly, try hard to live the Golden Rule, be good to your neighbors, etc. Think about it a minute- do you really think of the pianist, the janitor, the nursery teacher and the minister in the exact same way?
If after looking honestly inwards you can say yes, than I honor you. You have learned a valuable lesson that will bring you much peace and joy. You have learned to count worth by character. You can look past the outside of a person, past the trimmings of money, position, possessions and see the heart. Congratulations!
For the rest of you, can I share a story? This story is about a dark time in my life. I don’t know about you but the lessons I’ve learned the best have always come at dark times. Anyway, I was newly divorced and trying to enter the workforce after years of being a homemaker. With no recent work history, it was seemingly impossible to get a job.
Our town is small in population and amenities but large in area as many rural American towns are. We are near a large town, however, and that town has a newspaper. This newspaper needed a rural delivery person- basically, someone who would deliver the paper from a car. Desperate, I took it. The hours were crazy, the pay lousy but I could do it around my other ventures at the time AND I could bring my little ones along. It was perfect for a mom who hadn’t slept in years anyway!
One of the hidden blessings of this job was the hours of uninterrupted quiet thinking time it gave me. It’s a precious commodity for a single mom with a houseful of children. One day in the dark just before dawn, I began to think about the newspaper itself. I thought about what it took to give “birth” to a newspaper. I pondered the teamwork that every paper needed just to come into being. Without any one of the people involved there would be no paper.
It was then that I learned the valuable lesson that the “low man” at the bottom holds the rest of the totem pole up!! We all used to know that. We need to learn it again.
That’s the view from my side of the street today. What’s yours?
It seems to be human nature to attach worth to each individual according to whatever our personal ideas of worth are. Is your idea of worth money? If it is, than your totem pole has those who make more at the top .Those who make less are on the bottom.
Is your idea of worth position? Then the rungs on your ladder are very clear to you. Management is at the top and maybe the cleaning lady at the bottom.
Are you the kind of person who add up someone’s worth by the amount of things that person owns? If so, the have-nots are at the bottom of your heap and those who have are at the top.
Right about now, I know there are some of you that are indignantly thinking, no way! Probably, you go to church regularly, try hard to live the Golden Rule, be good to your neighbors, etc. Think about it a minute- do you really think of the pianist, the janitor, the nursery teacher and the minister in the exact same way?
If after looking honestly inwards you can say yes, than I honor you. You have learned a valuable lesson that will bring you much peace and joy. You have learned to count worth by character. You can look past the outside of a person, past the trimmings of money, position, possessions and see the heart. Congratulations!
For the rest of you, can I share a story? This story is about a dark time in my life. I don’t know about you but the lessons I’ve learned the best have always come at dark times. Anyway, I was newly divorced and trying to enter the workforce after years of being a homemaker. With no recent work history, it was seemingly impossible to get a job.
Our town is small in population and amenities but large in area as many rural American towns are. We are near a large town, however, and that town has a newspaper. This newspaper needed a rural delivery person- basically, someone who would deliver the paper from a car. Desperate, I took it. The hours were crazy, the pay lousy but I could do it around my other ventures at the time AND I could bring my little ones along. It was perfect for a mom who hadn’t slept in years anyway!
One of the hidden blessings of this job was the hours of uninterrupted quiet thinking time it gave me. It’s a precious commodity for a single mom with a houseful of children. One day in the dark just before dawn, I began to think about the newspaper itself. I thought about what it took to give “birth” to a newspaper. I pondered the teamwork that every paper needed just to come into being. Without any one of the people involved there would be no paper.
It was then that I learned the valuable lesson that the “low man” at the bottom holds the rest of the totem pole up!! We all used to know that. We need to learn it again.
That’s the view from my side of the street today. What’s yours?
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Magic Erasers
My day job is managing an apartment complex with my husband. Part of our job is getting recently vacated units ready to re-rent. In the business this is called “turning”. It’s not our favorite thing. And it doesn’t seem to matter how many times we’ve successfully done a turn there are some that still put me into panic mode. I usually turn to my husband after opening the door and ask, “Can we just throw a match in and run?”
There was the one that smelled so bad we had to leave the windows open for a week before we could get in to begin work. The neighbors all complained about the open windows!
We had one that took me one and one half hours just to clean the toilet, the wall behind the toilet and the floor around it! It was the first time I had to use a pumice stone on the OUTSIDE of a toilet.
A dog kept in the bathroom all day everyday had tried to eat his way out through the door, door jam, wall and floor.
One unit had holes in every single wall. Not picture hanging holes, more like “I hate the world” punching and kicking holes. Are you getting the picture? While I stand there on the verge of tears complaining, my husband brings in his tools and my supplies. We begin.
For the first few days we are miserable as we go about the process of “mucking out”. (That’s farm talk for cleaning out the stalls.) We are positive that we can NEVER get this place back to even a livable state. We might as well forget about beautiful.
But something happens around the halfway point. We stop being miserable because each day when we open the door it smells and looks better. Hope is restored. The image of the old beat up smelly unit is replaced by a bright pleasant newer looking home. It never fails to amaze me what changes can be brought about with paint, cleanser and a Magic Eraser.
It occurs to me that we all might know a person like that. Someone that giving up on seems like the only possible solution, someone who looks like they can never be “turned”.
And yet, just like the apartment, what could we accomplish if we found the right paint, cleanser and Magic Eraser to make the old new again in that person’s life? I’m willing to bet that the turn could be completed. I’m also pretty sure that giving up is the one solution we should never contemplate.
That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?
There was the one that smelled so bad we had to leave the windows open for a week before we could get in to begin work. The neighbors all complained about the open windows!
We had one that took me one and one half hours just to clean the toilet, the wall behind the toilet and the floor around it! It was the first time I had to use a pumice stone on the OUTSIDE of a toilet.
A dog kept in the bathroom all day everyday had tried to eat his way out through the door, door jam, wall and floor.
One unit had holes in every single wall. Not picture hanging holes, more like “I hate the world” punching and kicking holes. Are you getting the picture? While I stand there on the verge of tears complaining, my husband brings in his tools and my supplies. We begin.
For the first few days we are miserable as we go about the process of “mucking out”. (That’s farm talk for cleaning out the stalls.) We are positive that we can NEVER get this place back to even a livable state. We might as well forget about beautiful.
But something happens around the halfway point. We stop being miserable because each day when we open the door it smells and looks better. Hope is restored. The image of the old beat up smelly unit is replaced by a bright pleasant newer looking home. It never fails to amaze me what changes can be brought about with paint, cleanser and a Magic Eraser.
It occurs to me that we all might know a person like that. Someone that giving up on seems like the only possible solution, someone who looks like they can never be “turned”.
And yet, just like the apartment, what could we accomplish if we found the right paint, cleanser and Magic Eraser to make the old new again in that person’s life? I’m willing to bet that the turn could be completed. I’m also pretty sure that giving up is the one solution we should never contemplate.
That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?
Friday, August 13, 2010
Stupid
I did something so stupid today. I say that like it’s an unusual event. It’s not. Whoever said “wisdom comes with age” forgot the rest of the story. Wisdom does come with age but hand in hand with it is stupid.
I have had many of life’s lessons along my road. I could probably bring about world peace but I can’t find my car outside of Wal-Mart!
So back to today, my hubby took my car to town (better gas mileage, you know), and left me his old pickup. I had to run to the bank for one quick transaction so I didn’t care. I was almost there when I remembered that if the engine was shut off it would not start again for about 10 minutes.
I had planned to use the drive-thru but our bank requests that vehicles are turned off while at the window. It was such a short transaction that I felt I could park and leave the motor running with no problem.
I was feeling somewhat pleased with myself as I turned into the parking spot, put the truck in park and promptly turned it off. I realized as I was turning the key but it was too late. The engine was off!
I entered the bank shaking my head and laughing. The teller who was about my age looked at me inquiringly, I told her what I had done. She laughed along with me. A younger teller also laughed but she was looking at both us with gentle sympathy as we shared other stupid moments.
My worst stupid moment is as I head out the door to somewhere. I grab my keys, my bag, sunglasses and then make a futile search for my cell phone. I end up expressing my frustration at not being able to find it to whomever it is I’m talking to on the phone. There is a strange silence and then comes the question, “What are you talking to me on?” DAH!!
The teller then was encouraged to tell me that she hunts for her glasses only to be told by her husband that she is wearing them!
We ended the conversation by agreeing that these moments are caused by the fact that our brains have so much in them that they are suffering from overload. That in fact we are so smart that we’re stupid. Hey, I buy that!
Well, that’s the view from my side of the street. What’s yours?
I have had many of life’s lessons along my road. I could probably bring about world peace but I can’t find my car outside of Wal-Mart!
So back to today, my hubby took my car to town (better gas mileage, you know), and left me his old pickup. I had to run to the bank for one quick transaction so I didn’t care. I was almost there when I remembered that if the engine was shut off it would not start again for about 10 minutes.
I had planned to use the drive-thru but our bank requests that vehicles are turned off while at the window. It was such a short transaction that I felt I could park and leave the motor running with no problem.
I was feeling somewhat pleased with myself as I turned into the parking spot, put the truck in park and promptly turned it off. I realized as I was turning the key but it was too late. The engine was off!
I entered the bank shaking my head and laughing. The teller who was about my age looked at me inquiringly, I told her what I had done. She laughed along with me. A younger teller also laughed but she was looking at both us with gentle sympathy as we shared other stupid moments.
My worst stupid moment is as I head out the door to somewhere. I grab my keys, my bag, sunglasses and then make a futile search for my cell phone. I end up expressing my frustration at not being able to find it to whomever it is I’m talking to on the phone. There is a strange silence and then comes the question, “What are you talking to me on?” DAH!!
The teller then was encouraged to tell me that she hunts for her glasses only to be told by her husband that she is wearing them!
We ended the conversation by agreeing that these moments are caused by the fact that our brains have so much in them that they are suffering from overload. That in fact we are so smart that we’re stupid. Hey, I buy that!
Well, that’s the view from my side of the street. What’s yours?
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Blowing in the Wind
We bought a flag this year. It isn’t a huge deluxe flag. It isn’t a small hand waving flag. We bought the $10 Big Lots special package complete with mounting rod and pole. We bought it because we finally have a place to mount one. We bought it because I looked at my husband when we saw the box of them and said “What do you think?” We bought it because his reply was “Yah.” No big deal.
That is until we got home. We were still unloading the groceries when he grabbed the package. The mount was on before the milk and eggs had been put away! I put everything down and opened the door to join him just in time to hear him explaining to our youngest girls the rules of flag respect. Don’t let it touch the ground, bring it in when it’s dark, replace it if it gets ragged, etc.
I’m ashamed to say that my first thought was ALL THIS for a $10 flag, he’s got to be kidding! My second thought was to wonder how we had missed teaching the girl’s this already. All our older children knew these things. My third thought came a little later. It was a thought of love and respect for my husband when I noticed flag and pole rolled up in the corner of our kitchen as I went about turning out light at bedtime.
My fourth thought was the one that overwhelmed me. It occurred the next morning as I was preparing breakfast. I glanced out the window and noticed he had already put it up. There was a good breeze blowing it proudly back and forth. A phrase from a Bob Dylan song popped into my head and I softly sang, “The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind, the answer is blowing in the wind.”
I know the song was anti-war. So was I when it first came out. But I’ve grown up a lot since then. I had older cousins serve in Vietnam, good friends in Desert Storm and two of my sons are serving in Afghanistan now. I was watching as the Twin Towers fell. A friend from church was on a plane that day. His plane as others was ordered to land. As passengers and crew disembarked together to the horrific sights on the terminal TV’s, the co-pilot’s phone rang. It was his wife. She was on the plane that went down in Pennsylvania. With no time to go somewhere private, he said his final goodbyes.
So these thoughts raced through my head as I watched my $10 flag wave in the breeze. I remembered the question, “How many deaths does it take till we know that too many people have died? The answer my friend is blowing in the wind, the answer is blowing in the wind.”
The price of a flag- $10, the price of freedom priceless, that’s the view from my side of the street today. What’s yours?
That is until we got home. We were still unloading the groceries when he grabbed the package. The mount was on before the milk and eggs had been put away! I put everything down and opened the door to join him just in time to hear him explaining to our youngest girls the rules of flag respect. Don’t let it touch the ground, bring it in when it’s dark, replace it if it gets ragged, etc.
I’m ashamed to say that my first thought was ALL THIS for a $10 flag, he’s got to be kidding! My second thought was to wonder how we had missed teaching the girl’s this already. All our older children knew these things. My third thought came a little later. It was a thought of love and respect for my husband when I noticed flag and pole rolled up in the corner of our kitchen as I went about turning out light at bedtime.
My fourth thought was the one that overwhelmed me. It occurred the next morning as I was preparing breakfast. I glanced out the window and noticed he had already put it up. There was a good breeze blowing it proudly back and forth. A phrase from a Bob Dylan song popped into my head and I softly sang, “The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind, the answer is blowing in the wind.”
I know the song was anti-war. So was I when it first came out. But I’ve grown up a lot since then. I had older cousins serve in Vietnam, good friends in Desert Storm and two of my sons are serving in Afghanistan now. I was watching as the Twin Towers fell. A friend from church was on a plane that day. His plane as others was ordered to land. As passengers and crew disembarked together to the horrific sights on the terminal TV’s, the co-pilot’s phone rang. It was his wife. She was on the plane that went down in Pennsylvania. With no time to go somewhere private, he said his final goodbyes.
So these thoughts raced through my head as I watched my $10 flag wave in the breeze. I remembered the question, “How many deaths does it take till we know that too many people have died? The answer my friend is blowing in the wind, the answer is blowing in the wind.”
The price of a flag- $10, the price of freedom priceless, that’s the view from my side of the street today. What’s yours?
Monday, August 9, 2010
When WE were kids...
A friend has been telling me about an online discussion with people all over the country that started with the following statement-“If I had talked to my parent’s the way kids today talked to theirs…..”
You can probably imagine some of the answers. I’m sure you have some of your own. She has read me some of her favorites, “They would have knocked me into the next century”, “I shudder to even think about it”, “I think I would have been struck dumb”, “I can tell you one thing I wouldn’t be here today writing this”, and more that I can’t share due to content.
The general idea seems to be that we were all pretty sure that certain death awaited us if we disrespected our parents. The funny thing is that most of us knew this without being told, without being threatened and without any evidence. We were not abused. Many of us were not even spanked much. But we KNEW!!
I’ve been thinking about this. How did we know? Well, for one thing, everything around us told us adults especially parents were the authorities in our lives. They dressed differently than us, they talked differently than us, they had privileges we did not have. They worried about all the things in life that needed to be worried about so that we didn’t have to. We were grateful and respect was easy to give.
It also helped that NONE of our TV or movie children were rude to grownups. Children did not consider themselves equal to adults. Even more important, I think was the fact that adults never tried to be equal to children.
I remember a story told in a parenting class that I took once. It went something like this- you’re driving along enjoying a beautiful day when you notice flashing red lights on a police car behind you. You pull over wondering what you had done wrong as you watch the officer walk slowly to your door. You roll the window down giving the officer a sheepish smile and say, “Is there something wrong officer?”
The officer begins by yelling, “I’ll say there’s something wrong. How many times do I have to tell you people to slow down when you drive past that school? I’m sick and tired of pulling you over day after day after day to tell you this again and again. “
Then he kicks the car, throws done his clipboard and screams,” Don’t you ever think that I have better things to do with my life than to keep you brats from hitting some kid and ruining all our lives?”
Now, he bends down low to the car, getting close to your face and growls, “Well, it’s going to end right now, I’m telling you, right now! “ And you notice him reaching for his gun.
Now, the question is, are you still sitting there thinking about what you had done wrong? Are you even listening to him anymore? Or are you thinking, “This person is crazy, I need to get out of here!”
That’s the view from my side of the street today. What’s yours?
You can probably imagine some of the answers. I’m sure you have some of your own. She has read me some of her favorites, “They would have knocked me into the next century”, “I shudder to even think about it”, “I think I would have been struck dumb”, “I can tell you one thing I wouldn’t be here today writing this”, and more that I can’t share due to content.
The general idea seems to be that we were all pretty sure that certain death awaited us if we disrespected our parents. The funny thing is that most of us knew this without being told, without being threatened and without any evidence. We were not abused. Many of us were not even spanked much. But we KNEW!!
I’ve been thinking about this. How did we know? Well, for one thing, everything around us told us adults especially parents were the authorities in our lives. They dressed differently than us, they talked differently than us, they had privileges we did not have. They worried about all the things in life that needed to be worried about so that we didn’t have to. We were grateful and respect was easy to give.
It also helped that NONE of our TV or movie children were rude to grownups. Children did not consider themselves equal to adults. Even more important, I think was the fact that adults never tried to be equal to children.
I remember a story told in a parenting class that I took once. It went something like this- you’re driving along enjoying a beautiful day when you notice flashing red lights on a police car behind you. You pull over wondering what you had done wrong as you watch the officer walk slowly to your door. You roll the window down giving the officer a sheepish smile and say, “Is there something wrong officer?”
The officer begins by yelling, “I’ll say there’s something wrong. How many times do I have to tell you people to slow down when you drive past that school? I’m sick and tired of pulling you over day after day after day to tell you this again and again. “
Then he kicks the car, throws done his clipboard and screams,” Don’t you ever think that I have better things to do with my life than to keep you brats from hitting some kid and ruining all our lives?”
Now, he bends down low to the car, getting close to your face and growls, “Well, it’s going to end right now, I’m telling you, right now! “ And you notice him reaching for his gun.
Now, the question is, are you still sitting there thinking about what you had done wrong? Are you even listening to him anymore? Or are you thinking, “This person is crazy, I need to get out of here!”
That’s the view from my side of the street today. What’s yours?
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