How Do You Say Goodbye

This weekend we had to say goodbye to our darling family dog.  It was awful, the worst decision we have ever had to make.  Our dear pet, Hannah, has been a true and loyal companion for eleven years.  Our daughters have only known a life with her in it.  She slept at their feet, watched them as they play, guarded our home. 

Then on Wednesday night our whole life changed.  Hannah had a seizure, suddenly and violently.  She was perfectly healthy acting during the day.  There were no signs of this to come.  Even when she went to the Vet Hospital they were stumped, she was an otherwise healthy dog.  But the seizures wouldn’t stop, they had taken over her body.

She finally suffered far to much and it became clear that she wouldn’t, couldn’t rebound from all her body had endured.  And we had to choose to put her to sleep.  She laid in my Husbands arms as she took her last breaths.  When it was done, we cried.  Well more accurately we cried for days prior and are still shedding the occasional tear.

What amazed me, was the amount and the depths of my grief for this lovely animal.  Because after all, it wasn’t as if I was morning the loss of a child, just a pet.  Just a pet.  A pet that was with me during bed rest, when up late nursing my children, while gardening, and walking.  A pet who protected my daughters, who was gentle and friendly.  A pet who would chase her own tail and make me laugh. 

I never want another pet.

I never want to feel so sad.  It feels as though I have a phantom limb.  I expect to see her curled up on her chair sleeping, or waiting outside our bedroom door to be let out in the morning.  We put away her bowls, bed and food.  We have talked about her not suffering anymore, we have made arrangements to bring her home to be buried here.  They will make little ceramic paw prints for us to remember her by.  But how do you say goodbye?

A friend suggested a lovely poem, The Rainbow Bridge.  It was nice.  My 6 year old, full of wisdom said she knew Hannah was in heaven playing with Jesus and other little girls that had to go there too.  How comforting, that our humble dog is playing catch with Jesus.  I don’t know any of that for sure, but I do know that I miss her terribly.

I just don’t know how to really say goodbye.  How to close the chapter on her life with us.  What days will like without Hannah there, barking at birds and cars, laying gently at our feet while we relax.  But I do know that her memory will always be available, that the hole in our hearts will start to feel less gaping…that probably we will decide to get a new dog to be part of our family.

Bed Rest and Babies

Fifty weeks.  That’s how many weeks I spent on full bed rest.  I could take a shower every other day, and get up to us the restroom, and go to weekly Doctors appointments.  And it worked…I have two perfectly healthy little girls.  I want another baby.   I feel selfish.  Twice I have been blessed to remain pregnant and deliver babies fairly close to the end of the pregnancy terms.  Twice my family and friends have circled my family in arms of love and support.  I feel like I should be satisfied, I have a wonderful, beautiful family.

Bed Rest is awful.  Anyone who has ever had to do it knows the struggle.  It is scary.  You spend days in prayer, making deals with God to ensure the safety of your baby.  You are often alone, left to watch day time tv and read.  Life goes on outside of your house or hospital room.  Your spouse or partner goes to work everyday.  Your friends stop by with food and movies, they might give you foot massages (an especially hard treat for me to accept) or offer to do laundry. 

Bed rest is humbling.  Able body people usually don’t enjoy the idea of laying around for weeks, months on end.  Even having your Mom cleaning and cooking for you can be hard to except.  It challenges marriages, it is really hard on existing children.  Mommy not being able to be herself, your wife not being able to contribute to the household, it wears on a family.

Yet still, my desire for another child is strong.  I love being pregnant.  I love the morning sickness, I love the feeling of the baby moving, I love my ever growing stomach.  My husband thinks I’m crazy, my insurance company questions my mental stability, and my Doctor is totally behind me if I agree to lay down at 10 weeks. 

When I think of my last two pregnancies I could cry.  Cry for the sadness, the guilt, the love that was shown to me, even the shame of not being able to have a healthy pregnancy.  I’m not complaining.  I would be on bed rest for years if it insured the health of my children.  And I thank God daily that I was even able to have a pregnancy, and deliver healthy babies.  I cannot imagine the pain of miscarrying or not being able to conceive.  I would not trade my incompetent cervix for anything.

In my head I know the incredible burden of a hard pregnancy.  I know the scary feelings, the thoughts that haunt every waking hour, the silent prayers for one more week.  In my heart I envy new  Mothers, their babies at their breast.  I almost cannot bear to hold a new little one, the urge to have one of my own so strong. 

Those of you who have seen the horrors of bed rest know all the private, shameful feelings that women experience.  The thoughts of not being good enough, healthy enough, right enough to safely carry a baby.  You know the fear of reading about the child, cozy in your wombs chances of living if delivered during any time of your pregnancy.  You live for the weekly or bi-weekly ultrasounds to see their development, their hearts getting stronger.  You have taken weekly tests to determine if your baby may come this week, only to take strong steroid shots to help their vital organs develop.  You have taken drugs to prolong your pregnancy and to stop contractions. 

Your family; in my case my Mom and Dad have stepped up and filled in.  They cleaned the house, they grocery shopped, they drove me to Doctor’s appointments.  With my second pregnancy they helped to parent my oldest daughter.  My Mom was at our home from morning till night, anytime my Husband wasn’t home my Mom was there.  They were amazing and I would be expecting them to do the same again, only this time for two children with soccer and dance lessons and school. 

My friends were lovely.  I have to say it was much easier the second time to accept their kindness, their love and generosity.  The first pregnancy, I was embarrassed.  All I could do was lay on the couch, helplessly directing them around my kitchen or laundry room.  The second time was a bit easier.  At first it felt awkward to have them digging through my cupboards.  But when I stopped being so stoic, when I realized they were feeling helpless too, that this gave them hope and control in a scary situation, then I was able to accept their kindness. 

One friend made delicious salads, and always brought enough for dinner.  Another brought everything she would need to give me full pedicures so my feet would be pretty for exams.  Some just came with favorite childhood candy and 80′s movies.  Some just came and laughed and cried with me, many couldn’t come but prayed for us.  Is it fair to do this again to them?  To all the people who love my family?

Bed rest stinks!  If your on bed rest, I’m truly sorry.  Please, please follow your Doctor’s orders.  They will do everything in their power to help ensure a healthy baby.  Which after all is the end goal.  Allow yourself time to grieve.  I gave myself 12 hours after bad or scary news.  I could cry, shout, scream.   Sometimes I would watch Jerry Springer (Awful I know, but it made me feel better about my life.) other times I would write letters to my baby.  After twelve hours I had to shake it off, had to be positive.  I had to do my part to make sure that my baby new I believed in it, in God, in this pregnancy. 

I’ll wait, I’ll give myself a few months to make sure these baby urges aren’t a passing fancy.  I will seek council.  I will pray over it.  I’ll include my Husband in this discussion…I guess he has a pretty big say in it.  But mostly, I’ll focus on the blessings I have.

School’s In Session

Today marked the first day, of my first child’s, first grade year.   School is old hat for our family, our preschool and kindergarten are thankfully housed in our grade school.  First grade was an easy transition for us.  Not all walked away unscathed.  I saw lots of tears; and not just from the new First Graders.  Mom’s armed with cameras and tissue gathered in hallways, sharing stories of goodbyes.  Some made plans to meet for coffee, to cry into their Starbucks a bit.  Others hurried on to jobs, or siblings. 

I was excited.  Grace, (my daughter) was excited.  We have a great teacher, Mrs. F is an institution at our school.  Loved, respected, gentle and kind.  She has Walking Sticks and a Rat in the classroom.  I’m not looking forward to parent help days, I am not comfortable with rats.  However, these two creatures rank pretty high in my daughters book.  She raced into school, backpack bouncing on her little shoulders, skinny legs going as fast as she could.  Past her also very lovely, Principal, who gave a gentle slow down as she past.  But I saw the smile, the happiness at seeing his school kids so eager to get back to learning.

We shed no tears, my daughter and I.  I took pictures, after all it is a pretty big deal, it is First Grade.  We went over bus schedules and snacks and lunch.  We found her desk, her hook, her cubby.  We hugged and kissed goodbye.  I asked her to be her best, and to have fun.  She asked me to be at the bus stop early, just in case.  I lingered in the hall.  Commiserating with the other Mom’s.  We made plans, we went down the road to Starbucks, we ordered coffee and pastries.  We toasted our little ones and our freedom.  (Mine less then others, I have a 4 year old.) 

Then I came home, home to my four year old and my Mom.  She said Liberty was pretty sad, missed Grace already.  My Mom left, and Liberty and I were left in this quiet empty house.  Both of us looking for our new schedule, our new rhythm.  It’s been nice, just time between the two of us.  I can see myself getting a lot more done.  But Grace has been gone nearly 6 hours and frankly, I feel like I’m missing out on her life.  Pretty pathetic, huh? 

At nine this morning I was almost gleeful to be shipping her off to someone elses care.  Now I feel borderline weepy.  I’m counting down the next hour until the bus drops her off.  Anxious to hear all about her first, whole day of school!  Anxious to go through her backpack, see the notes home, inventory what she ate for lunch and snacks.  I know Liberty has a whole lot planned for her too.  She has layed out toys they can play together, books to color and read, she is ready to have her sister back.

Who ever thought that this transition would be so difficult for a whole family.  I wonder about college, or even second grade.   Or if it will be easier when Liberty starts first grade.  I suppose that is what parenting is.  Lots of pushing from the nest, waiting for your birds to fly, hoping they don’t fall and wanting to tuck them safely under your wing.

Wonderful Day

“How wonderful is it that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.”

 Anne Frank

 

Thursdays are busy for us, really busy.  We pick Grace up from school and rush (speed) to get Liberty to dance classes on time.  While waiting for dance to end for Liberty I get Grace prepared for her class.  Which includes feeding her a snack, changing her clothes in the car, (which requires flexibility) and entertaining her for 45 minutes.  While Grace is in her class I do basically the same thing for Liberty, only in reverse most days.  As soon as Grace gets done we rush (run) back in the car where she changes into her soccer gear. 

I know, I know, typical Soccer Mom.  Her kids’ lives are over scheduled, they have no time to be kids….This is only on Thursdays, we have no other commitments during the school week.  And dance lasts all year, soccer only for three months.  Before I am finished with this very paragraph I will shock you all with yet another bad mommy confession.  Between dance and soccer we go through a fast food restaurant.  I’m cringing too.

I have to feed the children, and there just isn’t any time in between the two for my nutritious home cooked dinners.  I digress, the point of this story isn’t how rushed our schedule is, or that I break not one but two of the “good mommy” rules.  )These rules are made by Mothers who break them all the time, they just do it secretly and then look down on those that are more open with their transgressions.)

While in the line at Burgerville ( I pick a local company that uses fresh, local produce and free range cattle.), Grace noticed a man hunched over one the dumpsters.  “What is that man doing?”  “Has he lost something?” “Is he the garbage guy?”  I believe in telling my kids the truth, and that all people are children of God, and should be treated with love and respect.  Homeless people included.  The thing is we live in a small town, I’ve lived here my whole life and I can’t remember seeing a homeless person.  So I tell the truth, “That man may not have a home, a bed, food.  He is looking for something to eat, and he may not have money to buy himself dinner.”  Grace has a history with the homeless, she has a compassionate heart and has never met a stranger.  She is a wonderful child, my heart swells with love at her willingness to befriend anyone she meets.

The solution in her mind is easy, we should buy that man dinner.  We have the money to buy his dinner, haven’t we?  We do in fact have enough money to buy him dinner, and some gift certificates for other meals.  But is it what he would want?  Would he want a stranger to take pity on his situation, to buy him food based on the assumption that he would be grateful?  I agree to buy him dinner; a hamburger with cheese and bacon, fries and a chocolate milk shake.  (I figure he could use the extra protein and calories.)  But I still haven’t figured out the correct way to approach this stranger. 

As we turn the corner of the restaurant I see him, his bags laying at his feet.  He looks tired.  Old.  His eyes have seen too much.  I can almost not bear to watch him.  My throat is tight.  He is situated near the picnic tables, so I decide to park and unload.  We can be late to soccer, she’s only six, it’s not the Olympics.  But is it safe for me to have my two young children out of the car when I approach this man?  It’s a busy road, certainly if the situation became bad someone would help?

Silly me, all these thoughts and there is Grace running towards the man.  She only sees a hungry, tired man.  She only thinks of helping him.  And he smiles.  The years and sadness fall away from his face.  He has a beautiful smile, and really white teeth.  (I’m a little thrown by the pretty teeth, and jealous.)  His name is Rob.  He is homeless.   It started as a choice, a lifestyle.  But now it’s becoming harder.  He wishes he had made better choices.  His family used to track him down, they haven’t recently.  He came to our area to be closer to where they live, hoping they would find him when they ran their arron’s.  If they asked him to go home with them he would. 

He will eat with us, and asks if it would be okay to say grace.  Of course it is.  Grace volunteers to say it for us, over our meal.  “Thank you God for this food, and thank you for our friends, amen.”  That says it all.  We eat, in silence.  I feel like I should say more, offer more.   But what?  I do offer to call his family.  But he refuses the offer, he cannot ask for their help, they have to offer it.  He has pride.  He believes in God, he never had a substance problem or mental issues.  He just felt that this life was easier, that he didn’t answer to anyone, that he had freedom.   

I give him gift certificates to get more food later.  We say our goodbyes, I promise to keep my eye out for him and to stop and say hi if we see him.  He tells us that people often won’t look at him; homeless people.  It makes him feel less then human.  I fight back tears.  This man is someones child, he is God’s child.  I promise to pray for him.  Grace does also, she asks when we’ll see him again.  I don’t have an answer, because the truth it maybe never.   But I realize we will see many people just like him.  

Grace holds his hand as a gesture of love and to say goodbye.  We have to go, we are already pretty late and I need to make an attempt to show up on time.  So with that we say a quick goodbye.  It feels like I’m parting from the other Mom’s at school after a PTA meeting.  It’s casual, strange.   As we drive away, I wave into the rear view mirror and watch Rob wipe at his face. 

I’ve been thinking about this simple meal.  And then I saw that quote of Anne Franks.    There it was, in that minute my 6 year old helped to change the world.

Washington’s Great Wolf Lodge

The end of summer is upon us, and my Husband and I felt the need to take one final mini family vacation.  You guessed it, we went to the highly publicized Great Wolf Lodge.  This will be my first attempt as a travel reviewer, there could be more, we have three more family trips planned before year end.  My Husband and I decided prior to having our kids that once we had some, we would take them with us on most vacations. (Minus only those that aren’t the list bit kid friendly.  For example weddings that don’t include kids, Vegas…) As a result we have two well traveled, well travel versed little ones. 

It was with great excitement that we loaded up Sunday morning for the two hour drive to Centralia, the girls were over the moon to be going to a water park.  The above mentioned travel hasn’t always been to “kid” places.  We heard the phrase, ” Are we almost there?” roughly 500 times,  even though I packed a travel clock and told them clearly that we would be there when the clock said 11:30. 

According to the web sight you can start using the park at 1 p.m. and officially check in at 4 p.m..  My husband decided we should arrive early, get lunch and check out the lay of the land.  I decided we should beg as soon as we arrived to check in early.  When we arrived we were helped by a very kind front desk staff.  They allowed us to get our bands into the water park right then.  And had us checked in to our room by 12:30.  Which was absolutely amazing; the 12:30 part; not the room.  The rooms are pretty cheap in appearance and quality.  But all we really needed them for was sleeping and showering.  So I won’t complain any more.  I should add that all rooms have a mini fridge and microwave, but they really don’t want you to bring in outside food. 

The water park isn’t huge, but it was a nice and manageable size.  We have a six and four year old.  There are height restrictions on some of the slides.  And the deepest pool is five feet, and that’s at the end of the wave pool.  It is totally family friendly.  Don’t go if you don’t intend to get wet.  There is water everywhere, and many, many ways for complete strangers to soak you as you walk by them.  The temperature is around 85 degrees, the water is probably close to the same.  There is a little kid section, little ones have to be under 48 inches and the water there is closer to 90 degrees.   They have plenty of life jackets for use, for free, and they provide towels. 

There is also an arcade and an interactive game.  Both cost extra.  I avoided the arcade, but my Hubby took the girls to play games.  I took the girls to do the interactive game.  The game is expensive…You have to buy a wand for $15.00 and pay to activate the game which is another $10.00.  Then you can get costumes, attachments and ribbons for your wand.  It all adds up.  We bought one wand and one game and shared.  It worked fine.  It is a well organized game, which involves solving riddles that spanned five floors in the hotel.  Older kids can do it by themselves.  It was actually pretty fun and challenging. I think it was worth the investment.

There is also a kids club; no babysitting though; that has organized crafts throughout the day.  Of course these crafts varied in price from free to $10.00.  There is a teen club for kids over 12, it includes video game competitions and even a dance every evening.  I’m not sure if there was a price for the teen club, there weren’t any listed on their signs.

The dining choices are limited, but you can always venture into Centralia if you dare to loose your spot in the very crowded parking lot.  The hotel has a buffet for breakfast and dinner.  Skip dinner.  We had been warned that it was over priced and the food not good.  We didn’t heed that warning and should have.  At $19.00 for adults, there wasn’t much variety and the food quality poor, not worth it at all.  However the breakfast buffet was much better, and a better value at $14.00 for adults.  There are a few snack bars which sell hamburgers, hotdogs, nachos…all the prices you would expect at an attraction.  They have one sit down restaurant which serves lunch and dinner, think Red Robin choices and prices, the food was okay and a nice change from pizza and hotdogs.  There is a PizzaHut Express, they also serve breakfast sandwiches.  You can order any size pizza, but they are more expensive then a tradition Pizza Hut.  And of course there is a Starbucks.  Much to my 6 year olds dismay, there is no room service.

The staff is comprised mostly of 19 year olds, as a result service varies from great to really awful.  The lifeguards all seemed very competent and engaged in their surroundings.  The food service is where we experienced the most dissatisfying service, the staff was either super helpful or just dismal.  The front desk staff and housekeeping were very professional and courteous.   Overall, if you can grin and bear the bad service you will rewarded with some stellar help. 

All this being said, this is not my dream vacation.  But my two girls are exhausted and even shed a tear when we said it was time to leave.  They literally begged us to let them stay another night.  They had so much fun, and they both were absolutely obsessed with solving the Quest of The Magi.  I’d recommend going.  Just know this is not an adults dream trip to somewhere warm and tropical.  It is warm, you will be wet, and your kids will adore you for taking them there. 

We only stayed one night, we should have planned for two.  It would have allowed us to relax a bit and take more breaks.  And the kids may have been able to complete the interactive game.  When you check in they give the adults bracelets that open your room and allow you to charge everything the hotel has to offer, including vending machines.  I think this is genius.  You lock all your valuables in your rooms safe and don’t need to access them your whole stay.  It was lovely to just decide to get some ice cream, scan your bracelet, and your done.  LOVED IT! 

One last bit, they have two spas.  One for kids and one for adults.  I didn’t check it out, I wanted to, but couldn’t fit it in this trip.  I’d love to know how it is, because I do think there’s another trip to the lodge in our future. 

So if you venture to The Great Wolf Lodge, pack light, have fun and arrive early.

Pedicures

So beautiful was the sky this morning, it just felt like a special day.  Never mind that it’s a Monday, it isn’t a special day for any specific reason.  But I am superbly good at finding reasons to celebrate.  So today we will celebrate another perfect, Oregon summer morning.  It is mid morning, about 75 degrees, the skies are the most perfect robin egg blue I have ever seen.  The air smells sweet, not the least bit heavy.  The breeze gently pushes and pulls the hair off your face…

“We should celebrate!”, this is what I am saying to my two daughters (4 and 6), “We’re going to get pedicures!”  Neither know what this means, but they are wildly excited.  The two chatter back and forth about our “peddlers”, not once asking what a pedicure is.  I am buzzing with the anticipation of being pampered, of my girls loving this luxury. 

We arrive at our neighborhood nail salon; full with petite Vietnamese woman; chatting to one another in exotic tongue.  Lines of Pedicure chairs like soldiers across two walls, half filled with women on cell phones, engrossed in magazines, gossiping with their friends.   One of the woman leads us to three chairs, side by side; my littlest is totally amazed by this woman’s waterfall of black, satin hair. ( We are not exotic, we are Swedish, blond, blue eyed, not at all exotic.)  “You are sooooo buutiful.” she says, and the woman says to her, “No baby, you are so pretty.” Of course being 4 and the woman not speaking perfect english, my little girl just looks at her like she’s crazy. 

The three girls who arrive to sooth my aching feet and my daughters pink little toes are giggling.  It crosses my mind that they may think I’m crazy, or that they think these two little girls are so cute, or how will they do a pedicure on these two crazy, squirmy little things.  It turns out that all of the above are true.  My six year old is really ticklish and afraid of just about everything new, and my four year old is tiny.  Her feet barely touch the water, let alone go under the water.  But these women, new to the US, new to Oregon (only one of the three has been in the states for more then 2 years, and they are young) give my little girls and myself the best pedicure ever.

My daughters love it; they belly laugh when they scrub their heels, they purr when their feet are massaged, they glow as the women call them baby and shower them with compliments.  I relax.  Enjoy.  Feel good.  This I think could become a tradition, or a family thing that we all do together.  Or at least that my Husband treats his girls to.  

They choose their nail polish colors.  My oldest chooses two colors, and the woman paints every other toe an alternate color.  She paints a flower on the big toenails, and puts a rhinestone on.  It is a masterpiece.  My little one picks a lavender shade, she declares it is what color tinkerbell wears.  The woman paints her little nails, and makes a crown on her toes, and also adds rhinestones.  It is a big deal.  We all sit and wait for our toes to dry. It is really hard for these girls to sit still.  I think that this may not be a good idea after all.  It could be a total waste of time and money.  It could all be ruined, my hopes dashed, a little girls heart broken when her polish is smeared. 

I say silent prayers that they can keep their feet from touching anything, I carry them to the car, without shoes one.  And it works!  Mission complete!  We all have pretty toes, perfect pedis.  My girls are so proud of their new polish, they show everyone who will look.  Their little chests puffed up when a stranger comments on how fancy they are.  And I was able to sneak in a little bit of luxury!  WooHoo.  I think this is cause for celebration!  Ice Cream, anyone?

I’ve Got the Peanut Blues

We have a peanut allergy in our home, we’ve had it for roughly four years.  And for four years we have functioned with very little incident, but the ones we’ve had have been frightening.  It all started when my  now four year old was 18 months old.  I felt quiet sure that since no one on either side of our family has any known food allergies, she would be fine eating a portion of my peanut butter Cliff bar.  Almost immediately she had hives covering most of her body, I sprung to action. I called our Pediatrician who told us to get to the Hospital as quickly as possible and they would call to let them know we were coming.  They instructed us to call 911 at any time we thought she wasn’t breathing. 

I cannot explain the sheer terror, in that moment, watching my otherwise perfectly healthy child suffering so horribly.  I did everything any other Mom would do.  Swept the house for any peanut product I could find, bought a medical alert bracelet, 5 epi-pens, I called ahead to ensure that restaurants could produce non contaminated foods.  I’ve worried about when she starts school.  Our preschool has gone completely peanut free, and no one has missed it.  I should add that I love peanuts, there has never been a peanut that I haven’t enjoyed.  I miss peanuts.

Our public schools will not go peanut free, kids like peanut butter, it’s easy to prepare a pb&j.  I understand that.  But this isn’t an allergy like hay fever, or even a gluten allergy.  It can be life threatening in some cases, and every exposure makes the allergy intensify.  Most people do not know that a person with peanut allergies does not have to ingest peanuts, just having the oil touch them can cause a reaction.  In some cases, severe cases, even air born particles can cause a reaction.

Peanut allergies are growing in our country for whatever reason, it is an unfortunate truth.  And as a society we cower to so many ridiculous requests.  We don’t acknowledge holidays as to not offend, we don’t say the Flag Salute because some people don’t like God.  Little boy can join the Blue Birds, for heavens sake.  But we can’t protect children from something that can cause so much harm, including death.  There is decidedly something wrong with our society.  I have read articles, of incidences of peanut free schools, having children bring peanut butter sandwiches with instructions (given by their parents) to smear it on the student with the allergy. 

Last week my daughter was at Vacation Bible School, and the first day they served trail mix.  Her teacher knew she had an allergy and that the mix included peanuts, so she removed Libby from the room, fed her a separate snack and made sure that the other children washed thoroughly before returning to the classroom.  Three days later, in a room separate from where snack was served, my peanut found a peanut.   It was just lying on the floor, and she picked it up, held it for 30 seconds before her teacher saw it and took it from her.  And withing seconds was needing medical attention.  I am so thankful that her teacher was so careful with my child, that she reacted so quickly.  The Minister was horrified, and vowed that they would never serve peanuts again.  The thing is, it was a pretty harmless snack, and they took precautions, and still accidents happen.  And it usually is just an accidental exposure.

So if your a parent, a school official, any one with any pull over public schools I beg you to consider going peanut free.  Kids who can enjoy peanut products can still enjoy them at their homes.  But have some compassion for us Mom’s who send our little ones into the world, filled with worry over their safe keeping.  Because on top of worrying that they will be safe, that they will have a good day, that they will make friends, we have to worry for their little lives.

School Supply Lists

You might accuse me of being easy to please.  But I find the simplest things in life totally joyful.  One of the pleasures of my childhood, that I now experience with my kids is school shopping.  My Mom was a teacher, so school was a big deal in our house, I credit her for my love of sharp pencils and fresh paper.   I want to pass the excitement of a new year, new friends and new teacher on to my two girls.  So we’ve been anticipating our school supply list.  Grace is starting First Grade, I was expecting a pretty fun shopping list.  Pencils, crayons, pens, glue sticks, erasers…the usual. 

• A Backpack with your child’s name on it
• A pair of tennis shoes, labeled to leave at school
• and a Forty dollar check

That was the school supply list.  Are you kidding me?  This is criminal!  It’s awful!  What does this do to prepare students for the start of a new year?  How does this teach them to be responsible for their belongings?  It doesn’t, at all.  It doesn’t make it easier for families, in fact I would guess that it’s actually more costly then just giving us a list.  And there is no way to build excitement for a child who’s hesitant to return to school.

Part of the excitement for my brothers and I was looking through the Sunday paper at the adds.  Planning our shopping, planning what color binders we would pick, what type of ruler.  We will still shop for supplies, I will join the PTA, I will try and change this awful practice.  It was bad enough that teachers were asking each student to bring 20 glue sticks, without writing your name on them.  Fifty pencils to share, four pairs of scissors, and a colored pack of dry erase markers for the teacher.  And I understand that not all families can afford to purchase school supplies for their children.  But teachers can have an addistional  list, and ask families to purchase two extra of certain items.  Or teachers could give a supply list and ask for $10.00 from each family to help purchase any needed supplies.  After all, life is not fair, it is not equal.  It is a  lesson we all have to learn, as we all know someone will always have something better, newer, more expensive.  But it’s also important to learn to be satisfied with what you have, and to take care of your belongings. 

I may be old fashioned, I graduated almost twenty years ago from highschool.  Maybe this is the way of the future, but I’m not putting down the Elmers Glue and Crayola Crayons without a pretty good fight.

Is It That Complicated?

I love reality shows. I know it is something I should be ashamed of.  I know it’s certainly something I shouldn’t blog about.  But in this case I can’t help myself.  For the record, I tape all of my reality shows on my DVR and watch them after my children have gone to bed.  The two I love the most are Tori Spellings and Denise Richards.  I was a huge 90210 fan, it was on when I was a teenager, who didn’t love it.  But I favored Kelli Martin to Tori’s character.  And I can safely say that I have seen absolutely nothing that Denise Richards has been on.  I don’t watch a lot of movies, unless kid movies count.

I think what draws me to these shows is that I can relate to these two women.  They are afterall around my age, mothers, and blond.  They are trying to do the best they can in regards to their children, and in my humble opinion they’re doing a pretty good job. 

What I don’t understand is why the bad rap for Denise?  I know little of her relationship with Mr. Sheen and I don’t care to know more.  The media portrays him as a bit of a nutter and frankly the claims they have made, make me believe it’s true.  But it’s the media that portrays Denise as a bad mother for having her kids on the reality show. 

Why then is it ok for Tori’s kids, Hulk Hogan’s kids, Kamora Lee Simon’s kids…the list is long, really long.  I have watched this whole season of Denise’s show, It’s Complicated.  Much to my husbands dismay, we watch faithfully every Sunday night.  And I like her, a lot.  Minus the part where I feel a little envious because of her long, thick, blond hair, perfect body and often darling wardrobe.  And don’t think I missed the LV luggage on the last episode, it didn’t get passed me.  But I think this is  a woman I would befriend.  Her own friends seem to love her, as does her family and staff.

Denise seems kind, fair, generous.  And given by the size and volume of her laugh I would imagine shes a whole bunch of fun too.  She reminds me of my single, mother girlfriends.  Just trying to make it in this world, to raise her children and even grow herself a little.  She has taken a stance on her divorce that she won’t bad mouth her ex.  We all know that it takes two to make a marriage and usually that many to break a marriage.  We also know that her ex hasn’t held back the insults.  Is that why people don’t like her, or feel her parenting lacks?  Because she hasn’t said the awful, insulting things about him.  She obviously could rattle off a few less then flattering things, but she cares about her daughters enough to realize that love him or hate him, he is their father.

What a tremendous amount of courage and strength it takes to take that sort of stand.  The sort of stand that makes you an amazing mother.  She has sacrificed a lot for her girls, like any other good mother has.  In her case she has sacrificed her career somewhat; putting it on hold; she has sacrificed some pride,  (Although, I think she should be proud of herself) she has turned the other cheek.   All Mom’s sacrifice for their children, our lives change once we give birth, and my feeling is that Denise doesn’t regret that, instead she relishes it. 

Her children are loved, healthy, well adjusted acting little girls.  Denise has help, from her father, who is grounded and funny.  He loves her and his grand daughters so much.  She has a sister who is one of her best friends.  These two little girls appear to be surrounded by people who love and support one another.   Her girls have support, love, attention, guidance, security.  Hmmmm…seems like a pretty great environment to raise children. 

The most recent show ended with a tearful Denise; emotionally exhausted; saying something along the lines of, “I guess it’s maybe not that complicated.”  And I think she’s right, it’s just has to be a lot harder to do all that shes trying to accomplish under the microscope that is entertainment media.

Family Reunion

Food, games and family.  And if your part of my family add in a healthy prayer prior to digging into said food.  Also a few old people shaking their heads at the bikinis young girls wear these days.  (The only bikini wearers were under 7)  Don’t forget the sunburns, lots of sand, a family dog, some water slides and bounce houses, plus five hours or so sitting around catching up on the events of the last year.

Most of my family lives in my immediate area, within an hours driving distance.  So we see each other often, usually every Sunday at our family church.  But we have others whom have adventurous spirits.  Three couples to be exact who teach with Teachers International, so every two years they get a new assignment.  This year they’ll be heading to UAE, Germany and Bali.  I’m jealous.  Of all of them.  Don’t get me wrong, I love where we live.  I love that my parents are five miles away, and my mother in law a little farther.  I love that we see our family so often, that we are so connected.  But that sense of exploration, wonder lust, just takes over every year at the family reunion.

I’ve done my share of world traveling, I’ve been lots of places, visiting many different cultures.  But to fully immerse yourself into another community must be awesome.  To really find the things that make these far away places so magical, mystical, special, that’s what I am missing.  I revel in their stories of food adventures and mishaps.  As they recount the bathroom situation in the Amazon, I imagine the large spiders they watched for and the bats they latter learned lived under the toilet seats.  I squeal with delight and horror.  I’m afraid of both of these creatures. 

My daughter says she is going to go there to catch bugs.  I hope she does.  We talk of a family trip to Egypt to visit second cousins, after all we’d have a place to stay.  And since they are teaching, they get pretty nice housing, and it would be so educational.  But I fear it is just a conversation.  That we won’t really go there in the next two years, possibly never.  They all have little condos here in Northwest and the Pearl for when their home.  Going downtown would be a vacation for me.  Maybe I could borrow the condo and have a Mom’s weekend of shopping.  Also wishful thinking. 

I’m also thankful that my two girls and the other little ones running around in bathing suits, smelling of summer get to hear these stories.  Will know that they can literally travel the world, meet new and exciting people.  Even just know that there is a lot of world out there.  That what used to be Russia seems steeped in drama, the kind of mystique that one finds in old movies from the Forties.  But it’s beautiful and the scenery vast; changing often; much like Oregon’s.  And that a family can stay in a beautiful house with a pool for $100 a night.  I am planning that trip as we speak. 

I can’t wait for next summers reunion and we’ve only just cleaned up from this years.  Some Aunts and Uncles linger, not wanting it to end, knowing it has.  One jokes that you should never be that last to leave a party, I tease him that it’s not a party if you haven’t served wine.  (We haven’t, about half of our family doesn’t drink.)  And it’s nowhere near midnight, it’s not even 5, so I’m in no hurry for people to leave either.

I realize that here with family, all of them.  Cousins, second cousins, cousins once removed…this is the only place in the world I want to be.