New Requirements for camping trips!

   We had such a wonderful time camping with our friends over Memorial Day weekend! The weather was perfect, just right for doing activities and doing nothing at all. We went swimming, took a hay ride, played ladder ball and ate WAY too much good food. There was time to hang at the beach and walk the pier. Time for the kids to splash in the waves.

Light house at end of Pier in St. Joe MI

   I can't remember the last time it did not rain over a holiday weekend. Or that I had so much time to just sit and enjoy good company. Or that I ate sooo much food. Did I mention that we at a lot? Good thing we broke up our eating with some swimming and walking and biking. Okay, I was reading, my daughter and husband were biking. But that is the same thing, right?

   I think we read 5 chapters from the Harry Potter book we are reading as a family. There was an afternoon family nap, in which we all dozed as a lovely breeze wafted over our prone bodies resting on the big bed in the camper. I am talking about total decompression! Smiles so big that your face cracks.

   So what are the new camping requirements?

   Storm shelter and easily accessible roadside assistance.

   If you read my blog about our first camping trip this year, you already have a clue about my first requirement. Beautiful week ended with a night of tornado sightings and flash flooding. You probably get the storm shelter requirement.

   Our holiday weekend trip had an interesting end on the way home.

 Great view.
                      Lousy Location.            

   But we were relaxed and ready for this new adventure. When the patrol officers stopped to check on us, we had already called roadside assistance and were waiting for a response on how long it would take to rescue us and our camper. It was hot in the brilliant sunlight, but we assured the officers that we had plenty of water, food and a clean potty.

   So we waited. And waited. And waited. A very hot wait with no power in the truck. It refused to start, therefore, no air. My brother took the time to come down and pick us up in the mini van so that we could have a comfortable journey home (we still had 70 miles to go), but it was a holiday, with heavy traffic and accidents and all, so it took quite a while.

   But the relaxation we had all weekend had not been in vain. We reminded ourselves that we should count our blessings. We did not have an accident. We were able to safely get our vehicle off the road. The officers were friendly and concerned for our safety. We had cell service and could call roadside assistance and my brother. We had a service that would tow both the truck and the RV. There was not fierce rain storm to deal with. We had lots of water and lots of really tasty leftovers. There was a clean potty just steps away. Not to mention the great view.

   So it was the second time that day we had issues with the truck. You might notice the tire in the bed of the truck in the picture. A puncture earlier in the day was the first issue. So the highway was noisy and hot. So there were ticks in abundance if you happened to step in to the weeds on the roadside.

   When you decompress, it squeezes most of the pessimism out. It is much easier to objectively deal with a crisis without getting frantic or too terribly upset. You take time to be thankful.

   After all, this could have been in the middle of Nebraska, hundreds of miles from home, on a highway that is 75mph and only sported a stingy emergency lane, with no cell service, a broken sewer pipe (thank heavens an empty and fully flushed tank), a shredded tire on a single axle camper and a wind that whipped burrs across miles of open grasslands and lodged them deep into your skin.

   I just need a storm shelter and access to roadside assistance.
 

Orthopedic shoes and other issues

   I love shoes. Just about all shoes. Except maybe tennis shoes. Wait, they are now called athletic shoes. Anyway, having no desire to be athletic, I don't really see the appeal in them. So you can imagine my depression as my ability to wear the extensive variety of women's footwear available has gradually decreased over the years. Due to a drop foot that has turned my gait into a rather Frankenstein adventure and an arch that has essentially collapsed leaving me with a right foot that rolls inward like a lopsided submarine, I have found that my shoe selection has been reduced to what fits with orthopedic arch supports and works best with a walk aid neurostimulator.

   I used to wear heels will abandon. I had multiple pairs of sandals. Some of them had heels too! There were some flats and ballet style shoes. There were winter boots and dress boots. There were fancy sparkly heels to go with the long gown for special events. And I did not have to spend a fortune, I could get them at reasonable prices. Thrift stores, discount shoe stores and shoe swaps rendered me an almost endless supply and variety of footwear for every occasion. Sigh.

   Those days are over.

      In my struggle to remain mobile, I have gone to see doctors and orthopedic specialists. My first efforts resulted in a plastic brace. I was thrilled to have much of my ability to walk returned. But the downside was that I had to have shoes that the brace could fit into. Doctors and prosthetic specialists (prosthetic places are generally who make the braces) both suggested I buy shoes a size larger than I usually wore. Seriously? I discovered that I went from tripping over my own foot to tripping over the toes of the shoes. Through trial and error, I found that I could buy wide width shoes that would work, usually. Heels were totally out of the question as the plastic part of the brace that went under the foot did not have a moving joint at the ankle and did not bend. You would not believe how many shoes on the market have heels! Even the supposedly "flat" shoes often have small heels and that wouldn't work! I was pretty much stuck with one pair of casual leather shoes, my beloved hiking shoes and a pair of athletic shoes I purchased. Even winter boots were a problem. If I could get the brace in I usually could not get the foot in. Unless the boots had a zipper that went to the toes, I was out of luck.

   Furthermore, I struggled to go without my brace when I went to more formal or dressy events. Hiking shoes or athletic shoes are just not good pairing with a skirt or cute dress. And my casual leather shoes were a bit clunky for my stylish liking. I could have cared less what folks thought about the brace itself, it was just a part of me, but I wanted cute shoes to go with my outfit. In the summer I wanted to wear sandals to keep my feet nice and cool. These things became a problem. I know, not the end of the world problem. Not people are starving and have no shelter problem. But my own personal problem. I recognize that shoes are not the be all-end all, nor will I die if I have only a pair of hiking boots (going on 20 years old I might add) and a pair of athletic shoes.  It is not even close to any sort of priority in my monthly expenditures. But it is a gripe, and sometimes griping does help when searching for solutions.

   Fast forward my adventure, after a few years I discovered that the brace had difficulties all of it's own. It created bruising on the bottom of my foot that made it painful to walk. Despite doing the ankle exercises, I was losing strength in my right ankle and muscle tone in my lower right leg, which was causing injuries. I would roll over on the ankle at times when I did not wear the brace. Like at night when I padded around the house barefoot. Or on occasional summer days when I played in the yard without shoes. Fearing I might break some other part of my body that was currently working without too many issues, I searched for an alternative to the clunky brace and was introduced to the Walk Aid. This nifty device sent an electrical impulse to my leg to let my foot know when it was supposed to lift. Within two weeks my bruised foot had healed and I could walk almost normal. I was elated! I could also wear a lot more of the shoes on the market. Sandals were a possible again. Heck, I could wear some of the shoes in my own closet that I had been loathe to give up.

I

   Walking in heels with a walk aid can be done. It was meant to allow the wearer to wear just about whatever shoes they liked. But with the missing arch support on my right side, it resembles a clown act from the circus. And yes, I tried flats. With my left foot I am fine, but my right foot just won't see the wisdom in keeping the shoe firmly in place. Add an arch support insert and the entire shoe just flops off, generally when trying to navigate a step, or curb, or sidewalk, or grassy knoll, or any parking lot. There are non-slip heel guards to keep a shoe from slipping off, which are pretty good at sticking to socks, feet, nylons and small children that may pass by, but not so much shoes.

   For a time I wore over the counter inserts in my shoes to make my right foot happy and keep my posture when standing or walking. But eventually my arch seemed to be caving more and more and I found that the over the counter variety less effective and decided to try specially made inserts. I became really determined to try this after visiting a specialist who snorted at my walk aid neurostimulator (believe he said something about new-fangled device and who sold me this load of goods) and suggested I get a metal brace that would attach to an orthopedic shoe to correct my problem. My hair stood on end. Did he say orthopedic shoe? Does he know how much they cost? Oh sure, the brace might be covered by insurance, but the shoes are not! I might be able to afford one shoe, maybe a pair of shoes if I were lucky and they are on sale, but they would be my only pair of shoes. The shoes pictured on this doctor's walls resembled something handed out as standard prison attire.

   So I decided to foot the bill (yep, I really said that) to get the inserts specially made that were not covered by insurance. This seemed to have corrected the stability issues I was experiencing. But I was back to limited shoe wear, mostly that of my "athletic" shoes and hiking shoes. The prosthetics place thought that my "athletic" shoes were great - but obviously they never walked in a pair in the rain or snow, or they would recognize what cold wet feet can do to a person's disposition. They also thought my hiking shoes were great choice-but I wanted to see one of them wear a pair with a dress or dress slacks.  It is funny, I don't mind the stares I sometimes get when people see my walking device, and I make no attempts to hide it, but mentally I have issues wearing clunky shoes with a dress.

   So I started researching orthopedic shoes to see if I could find something within my non-existent budget. I did find some beautiful pairs that did not have the clunky, velcro fastener orthopedic look. But the price tag of the shoes was still pretty much out of my price range. Okay, it was ridiculously out of my price range. Hey family, how about we don't buy groceries this month so mommy can buy a pair of shoes? Somehow I don't think so. And many of these had a heel, which does not generally work well with my gait issues.

   I continued my search, both online and in stores. Mostly what I found was pretty pricey. I had no real budget, I was not willing to give up things like food and gasoline to buy shoes for crying out loud. But then I started to find better options on the internet, with more reasonable prices. Very similar to prices I might pay for a good pair of shoes. But with a catch. I would have to order them on line.  I absolutely hate that option. How does one know how a shoe feels without trying it on and walking about? I certainly did not want the hassle of returns when the shoe didn't fit.

   So for now I struggle, using tips from other shoe hunters on line to modify my old shoes to make them usable. Still searching for a better, comfier shoe fit. And scouring the racks at thrift stores to see if anyone has decided to part with a cute pair of gently used orthopedic shoes.

I still love my hiking shoes. Does that count?

Thinking about getting a parakeet?

   You may want to rethink that decision. 

   I know, you have read on countless websites about what a great pet budgies make and how easy they are to take care of. You have seen trained ones on You Tube doing cute tricks or singing songs or talking up a storm. Real Simple magazine even featured an article on 4 Ideas for Low-Maintenance Pets and the first pet they feature - Budgies. The article talks about how friendly they are, that they often talk and that they bond with the people in their house. It mentioned a "weekly" cage cleaning and that someone will have to hang out with then for an "hour or so" a day since they are social animals. It also talks about how cheap they are as a pet... the average bird costs about $20.00 and the average cage around $60.00.

   I like the magazine lots, but I think that they need to check their facts and figures. 

   Over the years I have been the proud and happy owner of three parakeets. This is my current parakeet Chirp.

 
   She is a beautiful bird, and yes, she can be very friendly. She is even learning to speak human. She does a few cute tricks too!

   For all these great qualities, Chirp is like having an incredibly intelligent 2 year old destructive tornado around the house. And she just turned 1.

   Today I thought I would edit some posts for future blogs. At first Chirp wanted to help me.

She started off by helping me type. Images on the screen are interesting. Keys on the keyboard are really neat. Then hey, lets chase and play attack the fingers while you type, that is fun!

  Is it lunch time? Can I have some? 


  That is not eggs. Her favorite food is scrambled eggs. (No, that is not cannibalism -think about it, what do you think birds eat before they hatch?) Parakeets need to eat a balanced diet. They should not eat seeds only. But it is tough to break this eating habit when that is what they eat in the pet store before you purchase them. Pellet diet would be better. We kinda do a mix. On average, we spend $10 to $15 a month on just "bird food." We regularly supplement with fresh fruits and veggies and the sides of my sandwiches. There are now bread crumbs everywhere.

   Then we played a little with her toys. Hey, you have to spend an hour or so with them each day!             

    After all the balls (cat toy balls with little bells inside) and all the water bottle tops have been thrown on the floor with her exclaiming "Uh Oh" every time, she no longer wants to play with me, but would rather play in the Play House my daughter made for her out of a tissue box. She alternates between this and going in and outside her cage while I go back to work editing.

  That is, until she sees her bird friends outside. She is in her cage when she sees them and she begins to flap excitedly, causing all the loose seed and feathers from the bottom of her cage to go flying EVERYWHERE! And I cleaned her cage this morning. As I do EVERY morning. If we waited a week to clean out her cage it would be filthy and full of seed hulls and enough feathers to make an entire flock! Imagine the mess I would have on my hands then! After "cleaning" her cage, she comes out to fly a few laps around the room and sing at the top of her voice. Her singing includes three different wild bird calls, the chirping noise that the living room phone makes when hung up and an assortment of chatter that sounds like "pretty bird." I hope the other thing she is saying is not a swear word.

   All this flying calls for a bath. Birds generally require regular baths to help them keep their feathers healthy. Our last bird used to take showers every day under the bathroom faucet. This one prefers a little bird bath tub. Oh yeah, she did not get her morning bath. So she decides to take care of this in her water dish. 

  Only the third time today I have had to clean it out.

   After cleaning out her water dish, I come back out to our three season porch where I am working to find that she is now playing with the window sills. Picking off the paint, actually. I shoo her off one sill and she flies to the next, where she immediately decides to pick holes in the screen. I put her on top of her cage and close the window most of the way, leaving a narrow opening so we can hear the birds outside.

   Guess what! She can squeeze through the crack! Now I carefully open the window to get her out from between the screen and the glass. While I am double checking the screen to make sure she hasn't made any bird sized holes in the screen and that all is still firmly in place, she runs around the other side of her cage and....

pulls all the petals off one of the flowers on my Begonia and decorates the table and floor with them. Pleased with her work, Captain Destructo swaggers into her cage for a feather preening session. Exasperated I close the door behind her to keep her out of further trouble while I get the vacuum to clean up the feathers, seed shells, flower petals and sandwich bits.

   Having cleaned up the mess, I grab a cup of coffee and sit down to do a little work. She preens and then takes a short nap. All that activity has apparently wore her out. But the nap doesn't last long. She wakes up and starts playing with all the toys in and attached to her cage. The little mirror that is hooked to the outside goes crashing to the floor and she starts squawking up a storm and rattling the bars like an inmate from one of those old movies. I give up, open her cage and retrieve her mirror from the floor. Thankfully it is not broke, unlike a number of "bird toys" that have been bought for her over the past year. I would hazard a guess that out of $50.00 worth of toys, she has broken or taken apart about half of them. She really is very good with that beak that she keeps well honed on a steady supply of cuttlebones that we purchase for her to chew on. I have taken to buying them in bulk.

   Now that she is back out of the cage, I take some time to work on training with her. We are working on getting her to come when she is called. She is starting to get the idea, after all we have been working on this for about two months or so. It shorter than the time it took to get her finger trained and tame enough to come out of the cage. Well, mostly finger trained. She has a tendency to bite sometimes. This is ongoing training.

    

   After this, I line up the table with her toys so that she can throw them all back on the floor with an "Uh Oh" and a lot of chatter. I completely don't know where I was in the editing process. She decides to help by cleaning my computer.   

  
   My daughter comes home from school and my work focus shifts. Chirp helps with homework by rearranging and chewing on all the sides of the paper. If I didn't know better, I would think she was teething. I will mention this to the vet at her annual check up this year... those run around $70-$90 dollars for a good avian vet. Hmmm, I thought this was an inexpensive pet? 

   I am relieved to know in a few hours my husband will be home and he can take over the bird watching duties as he sits down with a nice cold beer. 

   

   I, on the other hand will be tallying up the cost of the figurines that she broke in the living room when she decided to clear them off the shelf.

Uncommon Core Standards

 
   As the school year rolls to and end, many parents, myself included, are taking a breath of fresh air and letting out a sigh of relief. A nice deep breath of fresh air, since the weather has finally gotten warm enough to breathe without freezing our lungs. A sigh of relief that we have nearly completed the homework hurdle for the year.  We have survived, for the most part, projects that involve savvy marketing skills, extensive computer research that doesn't include Wikipedia, a great deal of tape, printer ink, a lot of cardboard, and the roll out of the common core standards for math and reading.

   I did say for the most part. Some of us are still struggling with the Common Core Standards being adopted by schools everywhere. As good parents we are supposed to follow the Parent's Guide to Student's Success which can be found on the National PTA website (www.pta.org). The four page guide for 5th grade students includes developing a good working relationship with our children's teachers by talking to the teachers regularly - beyond parent teacher conferences. Set high expectations for our children and give them the support they need to meet those expectations, as well as provide them with a quiet place to study and do homework that is free of distractions. In addition to sitting down with the kids at least once a week while they are doing their homework so that we keep abreast of what they are studying, we should be initiating activities with our child such as telling family stories and discussing our history, brainstorming on different ways to tell family tales, doing arithmetic with decimals, such as when we balance our check books, and perhaps even utilizing the important calculations of length, width and depth to determine how much garden soil we will need to purchase to start our garden. Our teachers have also asked us to look over our children's homework for errors and to ensure projects meet expected guidelines.

   Golly, is that all?

   What if we really could do all this and more? (Yep there is more information - full standards are available at www.corestandards.org.) What exactly would this new and wonderful learning environment look like.

   Lets start with parent/teacher dialogue. This year my daughter's class is fairly small, but next year there should be about 22 or 23 students. There are two parent teacher conferences a year, but  the Parent Guide to Student Success notes that we should talk to the teacher regularly, outside of these conferences. Does that mean an email a week? Maybe call and set up a coffee date to talk about my little angel and how she is progressing this month? Does the teacher really want 22 or 23 parents knocking on his door and setting up after school meetings (which would probably need to occur in the evening for most folks as they are at work during the day) to discuss tutoring options and study strategies? I personally like it when the school sets up open house events so that we can spend time in our kid's classrooms to get an overview of what they are learning. Not very one on one I admit, but we do get a pretty good feel for the classroom. Then a little voice in my head asked me, what if our kids are not doing so hot? Won't the teacher, school or district let us know in a timely basis? Won't the kids bring home corrected homework or tests or notes or something?

   Well, lets skip that one for now and offer our kids a nice quiet time and place to study, one that is free of distractions. Seriously, have you been to our house? Kids do homework in kitchen or dining room. Generally speaking, the study is my work space, but I do share. We try to keep distractions to a minimum, but things like preparing dinner, getting a glass of water and foraging for snacks are going to occur. I could provide a cubicle in the crawl space, but then how do I then periodically check to make sure that they stay on task rather than daydream, play with the bottom of their chair and other activities that stretch out the allotted homework time? But maybe they mean free of distractions the way classrooms are free of distractions? Then I got that covered, I just need to add some household renovation projects, about 20 other kids and perhaps a marching band. And certainly I can sit down with my darling daughter while she is doing homework -NOT. One of us would probably have to be bailed out of jail. I think we will stick to our routine of her doing homework and me occasionally nagging her to stay on task. When she is all done (or I have decided that enough hours have passed and we have other things to do as a family), I check over homework for glaring errors and missed problems. That is, for what homework I am able to check. Some of the math poses a problem for me. I neither understand what they are asking nor they way they are teaching it in class. I try to show her the way I learned it, but am usually met with "Mom, that is not they way they want us to do it!" When I ask my daughter where is her math book, she tells me that they don't want her to bring it home....

   WHY? Didn't the school use my tax dollars to pay for the book? Do they think we are going to steal it? Or does it contain things we won' like? You know, boxes with dots and hash marks, stem and leaf graphs and other things that take a lot of time to put together and accomplish very little? We usually resort to searches on the world wide web so Mommy and Daddy can learn how the teacher wants the problems done according to the new Common Core Standards. It can be time consuming to find the right explanation that can be understood by both children and parents alike, but who needs to eat dinner? Well at least the science book is on line.

   As for family stories, we have our relatives to tell all about that time that Mommy had a run in with the neighbors in their apartment complex or how about that time Daddy set his bed on fire. Maybe this isn't the age to discuss their great grandma's occupation as a bookie, or that our family is not descended from royalty, but rather the other faction. No need to brainstorm on this one, the various tales have taken on a life of their own that often have to be circumvented at family gatherings for more age appropriate material.

    I really gave serious thought to that check book idea, but the numbers are awfully small and would provide little challenge to my math scholar. From the single digit additions and subtractions of the numbers that make up the household finances, she would quickly realize that there would be no point in calculating the length, width and depth of our garden as we will not be buying any soil any time soon. So much for that helpful tidbit.

    So what is a struggling parent to do if they want their child to succeed? Some schools have instituted workshops for parents to learn new math standards alongside their children. Yeah, like they don't already have jobs and responsibilities. You want them to go to school too? Wouldn't that qualify them to then teach the materials at hand? And then what would we need teachers for? I am surprised that the teacher's union doesn't take some issue with this. Furthermore, if I spend time in class learning all this "new" material, then spend time working with my child at home to ensure successfully passing the grade, when is there time to teach the kids the other lessons we as parents are supposed to be teaching them? Lessons in  responsibility, by giving them chores around the house and consequences of not doing them. Lessons about environment and economy through planting that garden to make our families more self sustainable. Lessons about nutrition by involving them in making the family dinner (using those home grown veggies as well as fractions I might add). And when is there time to just play, decompress and develop their imaginations and natural curiosity? All of these life lessons are important to grow our children into healthy, independent individuals.

    I say that we need to explore an more Uncommon Core Set of Standards for learning. One that still involves the basics of adding, subtracting, multiplying and dividing without complicating it with a lot of dots and boxes. It is a great starter tool for concepts, but pretty sure that it is a waste of time 5th graders to keep making the hash marks. Continue to teach sentence structure so that our children can learn to manipulate our language and articulate their ideas in new shapes and forms. Build upon understanding of literary concepts and digesting information in our multimedia world where the written word is still strong and being able to write a comprehensive memo is still valued. Work with our students to learn, but refrain from "remaking the wheel" so that the average parent could not recognize basic mathematical equations. Don't feel the need to send home a mountain of homework to do this. If it really cannot be done in our current educational structure, perhaps it is time to consider adding a few years to the learning experience. Hey, it is not like the vast majority of kids are leaving home before they hit 25 anyway! This might allow families the chance to teach the other things that kids need to learn to achieve success.

   I think this summer we will focus on handwriting as our "school" summer activity. This is something they don't teach in school and fundamental if she needs to sign anything, like legal documents or a work check. Heaven forbid that she might want to be able to read the Declaration of Independence or any other historical document for herself.

 

Warning, HDTV is stealing shoes!

   Being an organization nut naturally draws me to to the storage bin isle at every store. I could spend hours pondering over new and creative ways to organize, well just about everything. I love furniture designed to store things. I adore baskets and shelves. I have a great affection for office supply stores that have rows and rows of bins and trays and filing cabinets.

    

   This same tendency also draws me to home design and organizing shows. Watching the likes of Nate Burkus (I know, his show is not on any more) and Design on a Dime give me inspiration and  creative ideas that I could utilize in my own home. That is, if I get past vacuuming and mopping and wiping finger prints off the walls and doors after the kids played detective. With the amount of laundry and dishes, one would think about 15 people lived here. And my dear bird Chirp seems determined to spread feathers everywhere. I have enough to build an entire flock. So my love for all things organized does not always equate to my being an organization activist. 

   But once in awhile, a project comes along that simply must be done. No, I am not talking about the tupperware cabinet. If you close the door fast enough, the stuff stays inside. I am talking about the coat and shoe and boot and whatever area that leads into the house. Mine currently looks like this.

   This is just a small glimpse at the chaos that we face every time we come in the house through the garage. Which is just about every time we enter the house. It actually doesn't look too bad in this picture, it was cleaned up last week. At one time this served well for 7 people with their coats and hats and shoes and whatnot. Everyone was assigned a set of hooks and a space for shoes/boots. Any additional stuff had to be cleaned and stored. I was strict about this rule as any deviation led to a mountain that quickly blocked the door and sprawled throughout the garage.  It was hard. Everyone had multiple pair of shoes, more than one sweatshirt and boots that dripped with slush. Mostly it worked. 

   Now that our household is down to only 3 persons the simple design has become a collecting ground of coats, shoes, discarded hats, shopping bags and a packaged smoke detector. Where did that come from? What happened? How could this have worked for 7 people and be impossible for 3? I know that some of the other places we used in our house were repurposed and as a result, more stuff moved here. That and where we used to store the adult shoes was converted to a place to store outdoor activity stuff. So what to do? What do I usually do? Prowl the storage isles of stores, flip through magazines and watch a few home design shows while walking on the treadmill at the gym. I would look for inspiration, then repurpose, reuse and redesign to something that worked more easily for our current family needs.

   And then I saw it. A show on HGTV (I won't mention the name of the show) that was creating a new design for a mud room where the family was having the same issue we were with coats and shoes and all the stuff. I watched with great interest as they reviewed bins and baskets and floor covering. Okay, I wasn't going as far as floor covering, my coats and shoes are in the garage for heavens sakes. They looked at cabinet options and a storage unit way above my price level, but that was okay. Then they put together this cheerful, bright and tidy mudroom. It even had wording added to the wall that read Home Sweet Home, or some other smarmy saying. Everyone was happy.

   Except me. I was frowning. Something was very wrong. In all this neat and orderly space with a coat and a scarf here and there, there were only three pair of shoes. Where did all the shoes go? At the beginning of the episode, they had a huge pile of shoes! There had been laughter about how they were always tripping over the shoes that mom and dad and four kid piled up by the door. In this newly designed space there were no shoe bins or shoe racks. There was no cabinet with a door to hide the shoes in. It was not a huge space, so there certainly was no part of the room not covered by cameras. What did they do with the shoes?

   Then it hit me. The HGTV program had stolen all of the shoes that the family owned, except for the two pair of nice boots that were mom's and a pair of tennis shoes that probably belonged to the daughter. This whole family had been rendered barefoot in a single episode of design make over! And everyone was smiling! Did mom not know that her sons could no longer take gym and would flunk PE because they had no gym shoes? Was dad okay going to his office job barefoot? Where had all the flip flops and dress shoes gone? With all the complimenting and hugging going on, I was beginning to suspect that the family had been drugged while all their shoes had been taken away in a white van to be sold on the black market to fund the program's next make over project.

   This wasn't going to do at all for my family! My husband has enough shoes to be related to the Marcos. And my daughter and I are true women and cannot possibly survive with a pair of boots and tennis shoes between us. I had to do something, and I had to do something fast, before this program found us and stole all our shoes too!

   I knew this wasn't going to be easy. My budget was small (actually, nonexistent). Shoe racks and storage don't usually work for men's shoes. My previous experiment with baskets had proven to be a failure for scarves and hats and mittens. So I started with pairing down. What shoes did my daughter own that did not actually fit? Did my husband really need three pair of yard shoes? Could I give up the high heels that I can no longer wear due to a drop foot and a collapsed arch? Shouldn't the grocery bags be in the back of the car? Whose smoke detector was that? All ours were in place with freshly tested batteries. I checked.

   I know this is only a start. Hopefully I can happily blog about my progress and show a picture of our newly redesigned space sometime soon.  In the meantime, I am keeping an eye on the street and watching out for any prowling design trucks that might be related to a TV show. After I finish weeding through the shoes we don't need, I will be guarding our remaining stash of beloved shoes and finding a way to properly store them so that we won't be forced to live barefoot in the ever changing Chicago weather. I warn any room designers, I have my B-B Gun stashed behind the door and I am not afraid to use it! 

Bunk Bed adventures!

   My daughter, an only child, has bunk beds. She did not always have bunk beds, she used to sleep in a crib when she was little, and that converted into a toddler bed. But once she outgrew the mite sized beds and moved up to a twin bed, we began the journey of the bunk bed.

   At this point you might ask - Why? Were we planning on having more kids? Was there a spare kid that we stored in the attic during the day that we let sleep in a bed at night? Did my daughter have an imaginary friend that had a big presence in our house?

   No. Someone gave us a white metal bunk bed frame with ladder.

   Well, we really didn't want that to go to waste. So creativity stepped in. The first bed became a princess bed. We bought a new twin mattress (the best bed in the house to this day), set up the bunk bed frame without the top bunk, added a big mosquito netting hung from the ceiling and centered over the bed to drape over the tall top and bottom rails of the frame work, put a few ribbons into the mix and we had a Princess Tent Bed! Perfect for a number of years. Sure wish I could find a picture, but the albums are way out of order and I gave up the hunt after about 45 minutes of searching. You can probably find pictures in magazines to give you the idea.

   Then our little princess began to outgrow this and was looking to have a top bunk bed to sleep in.... So the bed moved up to the top rails, the bottom remained open and a small desk and reading chair were placed under the bed. Now she had a dorm style decor which gave her more room for all the stuff she kept in her room.

   This worked for a little while, but that darn kid kept growing and the bed we used wasn't really designed for top use only. We did toy with the idea of purchasing (gasp, that was hard to get out) a bed designed for this type of use, but as we don't have particularly high ceilings, this wasn't going to work very well. Unless you wanted to slither into bed each night, then slither out in the morning....we deemed this not very safe.  At the same time a second twin mattress made its way into our house, so we changed the room yet again and added a bottom bunk with lots of pillows and now had a bed for sleepover guests and reading nook.

   Our adventures with bunk beds didn't end here. We then received a NEW hand-me-down bunk bed set to replace the old (which in turn was handed down). We continued the guest/reading bed space motif as it was working quite well. Heck, what better space to store the 200 pillows and stuffed animals that have come to reside in our house. The bottom bunk also provided a great fort area, easily put together using blankets and sheets tucked into the frame of the top bed. The fort even had its own window as one of the windows in the room was alongside the bunk bed.

   The problem with the new bunk bed set is that it was much more difficult to make than the first one we had. Way more difficult. Wrestling elephants in the Himalayas would be easier.

   Here is what neat-freak mommy would love to see everyday:

Top bunk with Kid in it

Bottom Bunk

Ahh, so tidy, so inviting, so MADE!

Beds are supposed to be made every morning. 

Beds are supposed to be neat. 

Beds are a reflection of the peace in a room.

   

Storage for stuff

   But here is what neat-freak mommy sees every day that sends her mind into mental lock down:

The occupant has left the bed

 Looks as if the occupant plans on coming back very, very soon to take a nap.

 

Reading, finger printing material and doll cloths nook!

   The bottom bunk is actually made, just storing stuff temporarily. The top bunk is too hard to make. At least that is what my daughter told me. So I thought I would show her! I would make the bed after she went to school and let her see how it should look.

   At least that is what I thought. I climbed the ladder to the top and figured out which end I had to be at for proper bed making. Then I pulled the sheets, but my foot was in the way. I attempted to tuck, but the railings on the side of the bed were too close to get my hand down there. I thought perhaps if I pulled the edge of the mattress up, I could drop the sheets and comforter between the mattress and the rail. Now my hand was stuck between the mattress and the bed frame. Freeing my hand, I decided that I had to tip the mattress up, without remembering that I was on the mattress, on the top bunk, pretty far up from the floor.... I managed to remain on the bed (barely) and not kill myself.

   Perhaps, I thought. I was going about this the wrong way. I climbed down from the top bunk and decided to push the mattress up and then pull the sheets and comforter down along the side. That is when I discovered that the mattress weighted about 800lbs and the frame was still to close to the mattress! Who bought a full size twin bed for a bunk bed frame? I mean really, these were normal sheets and a light comforter, there should be no reason that they cannot be easily tucked in.

   So I tried another tactic. I stood on the ladder and attempted to throw the sheets to the top of the bed, covering the mattress, frame and all. Mostly. However I forgot that the pillow was on the floor from my earlier wrestling match with the mattress. So down I went and put the pillow on the bed. There. Bed was made. Only took 1 hour and 45 minutes. Should be no problem for kid to do before school. RIGHT.  Ok, I will be content with tidied up bed that at least has the sheets pulled up.

   As for the bottom bunk, that will be a conversation I have with my daughter. Along with the conversation about all the flat surfaces in her bedroom. 

   So you might ask, just how did I get the pictures of the top bed actually made? The bottom bunk, obviously, is easy to make. Thus it is always made, albeit a bit untidy. 

   When we first received the new set of sheets and comforter from my daughter's fairy god-mother for the new bunk bed, I washed them and gave them to daddy to make the bed. It had been a long day and I was making dinner. I took the pictures after dinner to send to the fairy god-mom. Daddy is over 6 feet tall and has great upper body strength. I suspect that he lifted the mattress out of the bed, made it and set it back in place. Or has a magic wand.

Technology, not for the faint of heart

   Technology is also not for those who get queasy easily. Take those big screen, HD, life-sized weather men, flat screen TVs. I watched one recently when shopping for a new laptop. It had some kinda features that give the High Definition a 3D effect. As the camera man zoomed in on a shot of a basket ball headed for the hoop, my stomach did a flip flop. I turned away from the fast motion of the game only to find myself zooming down a toilet with Nemo on yet another incredibly large screen with graphics that would make your head spin. It did mine anyway. Looking yet another direction had me skiing from the heights of the Himalayas without the assistance of Dramamine. Unable to stand the roller coaster effect any longer, I averted my eyes and lurched out of the TV section, where I really didn't belong in the first place. We don't actually buy TVs, but rather pick them up on the curb where they sit dejectedly waiting for a new home. So far, our curb-side shopping has not exposed any flat screens. Moreover, none of these new flat screen models will fit in my old entertainment center and I can't get rid of that! Where would we store the stereo, records, and all the other stuff that lives there?

   Having steadied myself for several minutes against a wall to regain my balance, I continued on to my original destination, the computer section. There I hoped to find the ultimate, lightweight laptop to replace my current laptop that has decided to move on  in life and become a desktop. I could live with my old lap top being heavier and a bit slower, but the fact that it had given up on batteries and wished to remain plugged into a wall in order to operate was too much for me. I had toyed with the idea of buying yet another battery for it, but did not think it was really worth the money since any heavy usage usually resulted in crashes, the black screen of death, and several hours of cursing.  I would much rather save my cursing for paying the taxes or mowing the law.

   In the computer department I found myself underwhelmed by the variety and technology. I knew what I wanted. Something that was i7 or faster, had enough memory to contain a small country, touch screen, high resolution, comfortable keyboard (it is like a pen, some of them are more comfortable to use than others), and under 3lbs. Did I mention that I wanted this for a reasonable price? Do you know that I believe technology has not caught up with me yet? Oh sure, I could pick up a Gamer's Alienware computer that would do everything I wanted, but there was that price thing. It seemed if it had the lightweight features I was craving for my mobile personality, I was forced to sacrifice resolution, speed and memory. What to do?

   I had been advised to shop on line. I would be able to get the computer I wanted and close to the price I wanted, all delivered right to my door. Great.  But a little voice inside my head wanted to know how it would feel to type on the keys, swipe on the screen and ask a dozen questions of the store clerk. Especially about expected battery life. I wanted to be able to lift the merchandise to decide if it really mattered if the computer weighted 2.5 lbs or 3.6 lbs. I wanted to see if the touch screen was responsive to my cold little fingers. I needed to feel if the keyboard was the right width or if the touch pad was where I would constantly be bumping it with my thumbs and changing the page.

   So many, many, many, many stores later, I  we I we settled for a very lightweight laptop with touch screen (good resolution), i7 and most of the memory I craved. Not that I store photos and documents on the machine, I don't. I worried about being able to load programs and apps! Photos and music and documents can all be stored on a cloud. Those programs and apps, however, have to live on your device. I have learned through my smarter than I am phone and a tablet or two that those little buggers take up more space than you would think. And when the memory card dies, you just have to reload the programs and apps. Not so easy with photos.

   Smiling and happy with our purchase, we tottered off home to enjoy our new toy. In several weeks both my husband and daughter may approach the keyboard in hopes for a glimpse of the speed and technology that this thing provides. By then they should be able to pry my cold, dead hands off it.

   In the meantime, I am learning the quirks of Windows 8.1. Like swipe the touch pad the wrong way and you change programs. Ummmmm, where was I? Or that Apps ain't always apps. What? Sure,

Facebook acts the same as it does on the tablet and phone, but others are not really apps at all, just icons to take you to the internet. Grrr. And where is the AppLock app? One of the reasons I like Android over Apple is the App Lock app. It allows me to password protect individual apps on a device. Very useful when the tablet or computer is shared. Apple seems to think that each person has a separate device and there is only the need to be able to lock the entire device. Maybe when I win the Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes we will all have our own technology. As of today, we share devices. But that doesn't mean that I want to share the apps I use. Not everything I view is rated PG, and this is a great way to keep my daughter from accidently opening the wrong thing. I really don't think she is old enough to watch CSI, among other things, so I keep a lock on YouTube, CBS, and the Play Store on our shared tablet. When I have time to supervise, I unlock them for her and then she can use. I can also lock her out of everything if she gets sassy. Probably a control thing. I like to call it protecting my daughter in the world of technology.  I am still searching for that feature, but have not discovered it on the computer or in the computer's app store. Maybe I am a little slow. I still have not figured out how to get one or two of the "preloaded" programs I don't want off the computer either.

   Perhaps more disconcerting than the learning curve on this "intuitive" machine and the fact that the Icon Apps all want to update and move on a regular basis (what for?), are the finger prints that occur when you use a touch screen. At this point, I cannot even blame anyone else for these marks as my family as yet only views the laptop from across the room. You would think that I was digging in the garden while working on the computer. Washing my hands before use doesn't help either. The eyeglass cleaning cloth is living with the computer at all times and there is a death penalty to the individual who separates the two.
 
   Thank heavens for the long battery life - I can work all day without having to plug in. Handy if you are hiding in the camper to get some writing done. And when I do plug in, the charge up time is super quick. I may have figured out my photo issues for uploading, downloading and pulling off SD card, but the techo-amish in me is having a difficulty using web sites with my fingers. Sure, you can touch the screen on the web page you are reading, but then you are magically transported someplace you did not want to go. That is NOT what I touched! Unlike the tablet, webpages do not switch themselves to mobile settings (those that have that capability) and therefore all the buttons and navigation icons are tiny. Pinching and zooming work fairly well, but can also result in unwanted internet exploration. Oh, I suppose I could change the display features, but that has only resulted in a background that moves when I scroll through my icons - or are they called apps? Either way, I would prefer that the background did not move. I don't want to take Dramamine just to do the bills.

  I forge on, unafraid, if somewhat queasy with some of the moving screens. I will continue to try and find the right program/app fits for my usage. Even if it means I have to first install and then uninstall at least a hundred apps that don't really do anything close to what they advertise. I can do that in the illustrious spare time I have between my using this great tool/toy for my everyday work, like paying the bills, balancing the checkbook, doing the taxes, keeping track of appointments, writing and cooking, cleaning and other necessary nonsense!

 

 

 

To be, or not to be, that is not the question!

   To be or not to be, that was the question that Shakespeare posed. He picked the easy question. The tough one to answer is who am I?

   I for one, am not a prince worried about succession to my throne. Nor are there ghosts roaming about on the roof telling me about foul deeds. No one wants to inherit my throne. Heck, I can't think of anyone at the moment who would like to come over to take over my mountain of laundry, jammed shredder and pile of bills. Not even sure I could make up a fictitious character who would be willing to mow the lawn, clean out the garage and then turn around and swing for a new set of tires on our KIA....

   Like most people, I used to identify myself with how I earned my living. For many years I worked as an account representative and training coordinator. If people asked me what I did for a living, that was what I answered. I summed up my personal status, my ego and my self worth in what I defined as a career. I made decent wages and for the most part, really enjoyed what I was doing. This all came crashing down when the market went sour and the office where I worked decided to relocate to Pittsburgh. Although I was offered a position if I moved to Pittsburgh, I declined as this was not a good option for my family. Pittsburgh was a nice city, but it came with hills and not as many options for my husband when he decided to re-enter the work force.

   Now I had no identity for myself - outside of being a wife and a mom. I certainly did not want to identify myself as being on unemployment. The media did a good job portraying job seekers as lazy, entitled individuals who just wanted to live off the system. As if the system could pay my bills (and we don't live extravagantly in the first place), let alone allow my family to live in the lap of luxury! And just to clarify, for those who watch a lot of media, unemployment IS an entitlement benefit. It is stated right at the top of the form - entitlement benefit. When you were working, your company was supposed to be putting aside money for this benefit in the event that they would have to lay you off for circumstances that were not of your own making. If you were laid off, you were entitled to this benefit money. That is why if you lose your job for circumstances of your own making (IE: you were fired) your company can fight any unemployment you may apply for and you cannot collect.

   On the flip side, I was not ready to identify myself as a housewife. I married my husband, not my house. We didn't even buy a house until we had been married for at least 9 years.  Someday I plan on selling my house. You can't do that with a husband. Also, the phrase conjured up images of women sitting around all day in a house robe and slippers, smoking cigarettes and watching soap operas. Again, thank you to the media for once again giving us a negative portrayal of all the women who work at home.

   So who was I? If I told people I was a writer, they immediately wanted to know what I had published. Umm, nothing yet? Most of my life there was not time to pursue this ambition, I was working for a living, remember? If I said I was a stay at home parent, I got comments about living a country club lifestyle .Anyone who pays to join a country club like this has got to be nuts!  If I said I was job seeking, I heard comments about how I had retired. Seriously? Don't retired people have some kinda income to live off of? So I resorted to telling everyone I was busy having a mid-life crisis. Just without the convertible.

   Was I nobody? I no longer fit what society felt I should be. I wasn't a productive wage earner. Where did that leave me?

   Like most Americans, I have been searching for the answer to this question. Fortunately having a mid-life crisis allows me to search odd avenues and not be questioned too closely about it. Recently I came across a quote in a blog that made me feel better about my search.

   "Maybe the fear is that we are less than we think we are, when the actuality of it is that we are much much more." Jon Kabat-Zin.

   I was a productive member of society because I - a) held a job; b) had a job title that sounded impressive; c) brought home an income. All important things and certainly useful if you want to live in a house and pay the mortgage. But I didn't stop being a productive member of society when I stopped earning an income. If anything, I became more productive. Now I teach religious education, attend bible study, help people figure out their new tablets and occasionally help someone beef up a resume. Now I am there for my daughter when she needs me to come get her from school because she is sick. Now I can listen more attentively to my husband when he comes home from work. Now I clean house, run errands, organize events and balance the household budget. Now I write and sometimes even inspire. I could have done all that when I was working, even did many of those things when I was working, but I was too busy identifying my self with my job to recognize the possibilities of who I was in total. I can only hope that others pause for a moment to realize who they are is so much more than one definition.

   I used to think people took a lot of "selfies" to make themselves important or to achieve some sort of personal stardom. This may be the case for many people trying to fit in our society's definition of who we are supposed to be. But slowly I am beginning to believe that maybe it is an important documentation of who we are at this moment in time before we move onto the next moment, when we may become something completely different. I generally avoid taking these pictures of myself as I have come to the realization that I have nothing I need to prove to the world at large, but thought I might share this current definition of me.

Me, morphing into someone without gray hair!

   Okay, perhaps I don't have the hang of "selfies" yet. But I think I am getting the hang of mid-life crisis.

Party at my house!

   Today is one of the first beautiful days of spring, a chance to get out and do some yard work to make the outside of our home a garden oasis for our family to relax in and enjoy - or some other happy crap spewed out by the Home and Garden Network. The weather man predicted temperatures near 80, but a possible isolated shower here and there in the morning. I woke up a bit tired. I still had several loads of laundry lurking in the utility room and the bathrooms looked a lacrosse team had been staying here awhile. I was kinda hoping for rain. Guess what? It didn't rain.

   Then I could have gotten out of mowing the lawn. Don't get me wrong, I usually like mowing the lawn. Actually, if I have my choice between yard chores, I generally pick mowing the yard. It sure beats weeding and trimming. Especially since we do not currently have a trimmer. But we do have a mower AANNDDD it has a self propelling drive train. Actually it is more of a motorized gadget that allows the 7.0  horsepower engine to drag me across the yard while swearing and trying to get my glove unstuck from the bar that you hold down to the push handle to keep the motor running.

   Oh sure, it looks like the paragon of motorized lawn equipment, but only if you don't look too closely and see that it needs a new little rubber thingy part for priming the gas into the engine. I still haven't ordered the part. And you may notice that you cannot see the handle with the duct tape on the corners. These bits make it somewhat difficult to start the engine. Once you get it going though, those big back wheels do help a lot on the part of our yard that was featured in the Sound of Music. And the drag drive train works really well. As long as you don't want to turn it off, which requires some artful maneuvering with the power bar to disengage the drive without turning off the mower and creating a ten minute episode of pulling on the starter chain and swearing while trying to restart the darn thing.

   No rain in sight, I donned my yard working clothes; my favorite jeans with a large hole in the knee, my hiking shoes and a pair of gloves. After ten minutes of swearing, pushing on the cracked rubber thingy, and yanking on a string, I got the mower started, only to discover that I did not have the presence of mind to open the gate so that I could do the front yard first.  Creativity and ingenuity kicked in and I manged to get the gate (which sticks) open, keep the lawn mower running (note to self - how about taking that velcro strap out with you next time? You could put it on the mower to clamp the power handle down.) and not kill myself in the process.

   From there I just had to allow the machine to to drag me about the yard and make the grass look nice and neat. And I do mean drag. My drop foot was not feeling especially cooperative and my gait was a bit out of sync. About an hour later (including two ten minute sessions of swearing and restarting the mower) the yard was nicely trimmed. My ankle hurt, my shoulders were sore from pulling on the starter, I was thirsty and hungry and hot and I had to pee.

   So I sat on the porch and had myself a great big pity party. I was mad that I had a drop foot issue and have to wear orthopedic inserts in my shoes to keep from rolling over on my right ankle. And today my right ankle hurt anyway. My gait was really crappy today and it made mowing the yard just a lot of work. I was furious that the last orthopedic doctor who thought that "new fangled" device I wear didn't do much and suggested that I get special orthopedic shoes and a metal brace that hooked to the special shoes that were ridiculously priced and would limit me to one pair of shoes. (HELLO, I AM A WOMAN. ONE PAIR OF SHOES WOULD NOT CUT IT. AND WHAT WOULD I  WEAR TO MOW THE LAWN IN IF I ONLY HAD ONE PAIR OF SHOES?) I was angry at the medical doctors in general for not coming up with a better solution than exercise more to give your ankles more strength.Yeah, cause that was what I wanted to do after mowing the Swiss Alps. I was grumpy because I was hot and it was not summer yet. Bet them stupid doctors can recommend a drug for that. I don't like taking the medication I take now. I would prefer not to take any medication. I was feeling pretty nasty because I was thirsty and had to take my shoes off my tired feet to go in the house to get a nice cool drink of water. And I was upset that I was sooo thirsty, but would definitely have to detour to the bathroom first to pee or else, and would be stuck being thirsty in the time it took me to remove my shoes, climb the stairs and go to the bathroom. I contemplated wearing my grassy muddy shoes in the house to the bathroom, but that would mean that I would have to turn around and clean the floor all over again cause there is no vacuum fairy!

   I removed my shoes and socks, stumbled into the house with a gait that was worse than a drunk's (go figure, my balance has to be off today too) and hauled my sad butt up the stairs because we don't have a bathroom on the main level of our house. Stupid house too. Then I had to go downstairs to get nice cool drink. And lunch while I was at it.

   I didn't really have to mow the lawn myself. So why did I undertake this project today? And without a a bottle of water and a velcro strap to hold the power handle to the push handle. Because I still can. I wear a "new fangled" device on my leg that sends electronic signals to my right ankle to alert it to lift at the proper times so that my foot doesn't drag and cause me to trip and land in the gutter. It works really well and I have the option of wearing more than one pair of shoes. Like my favorite old hiking shoes that I have had forever. Granted, my shoe selection is a bit limited, but I have more than one pair.  I can still walk and push a mower, well okay, activate a drive chain and be dragged about the yard by the mower. I like the sense of completing a task that allows me to spend time outside and still be visibly productive. And I am probably just a bit nuts.

   I am grateful I can walk and take care of our house, however much grumbling it may sometimes produce. I am thankful that I can rely on others to help if I reach out to them, but pleased that in many cases, I do not yet have to do that. I am really glad that I got the yard mowed before it rained again and added another 6 inches to our "easy" chores. I am happy that I can make it to the bathroom to pee due to the marvels of modern medicine. I am especially thankful that someone invented the Walk Aid so that I can walk more than two blocks without stumbling, though I am still sometimes mistaken for a drunk. I say a prayer every day thanking God that I have life so good and can be active. Having a full belly and an ibuprofen helps remind me of how good things really are and what a wonderful life I have.

   At least I can finish this party in a lawn chair, with a hot cup of French Vanilla Cappuccino and admire the Tulips that have burst into bloom. Now there is a plant that requires little work but produces large amounts of satisfaction.

 

There is no laundry fairy....among other things.

   I remember learning soon after I was laid off from my full time job that there was no laundry fairy. It came as a deep blow to all that I had come to know and expect of the world. The scenario went something like this:

  Husband:  "Honey, could you go downstairs and bring up the wash?"

  Me: "Sure. Where is it?"

   Me: "I am in the utility room. I don't see it."

I

   Husband: "In the utility room."

   Husband: "It's in the machine."

   Me: Silent

   Husband: "Oh, and could you switch loads while you are down there?"

   As I unloaded the dryer and (gasp) put the unfolded and static ridden clothes into a laundry basket, I had the sinking feeling that there was really no laundry fairy.I put the wet clothes from the washer into the now empty dryer and turned around to find myself staring at a load of dirty clothes. Where did that come from? I put them in the washer thinking that perhaps a bit of soap and turn on the water and we would be good.  As I hauled the clothes upstairs and then proceeded to fold and put them away (some of them I had to hang up on hangers and everything), I tried to convince myself that maybe it was just the fairy's day off.  As the days passed, I slowly had to accept that there was never a laundry fairy.

   After that other dark secrets began to unfold. There was also no vacuum fairy. Or Mop fairy. We had no maid, or gardener. We didn't even have a cook!

   In the weeks and months after I was laid off from my full time job, my husband slowly helped me through the trials of domestic life. Hey, I had been in the workforce a long time as the primary source of income while my husband was the "at home parent."  Being a full time domestic came as a bit of a shock. Ancient memories stirred and I began to get the hang of things. I too could make dinner appear on the table at six, as if by magic. Which was a good thing, as it did not look like I was going to find lucrative work to replace my former employment income anytime soon. Not for lack of trying, the market just really sucked.


   And then the opportunity for my husband to go back to work at his former place of employment opened up (just in time too) and I became the full time Household Manager. Various other forces in our lives dictated that I would stay home at this time to hold down the fort. I honed my book keeping skills, my tax accountant skills, my medical skills, my event coordinating skills, my shopping for food with out police involvement skills, my household maintenance skills and my culinary artistry.
   These days I tell people I am a Household Manager and generally get a blank look. So sometimes I try and make it easier for them to grasp the idea and tell them I am a stay at home parent. Generally the response I get is "So you don't work. What do you do all day?"

I

   I smile and tell them that I sit around watching TV all day and eat bon-bons. If they had a laundry fairy they could do that to

Taming of the bully

   No one likes a bully. At least that is the saying. Yet bullying seems to have become an epidemic in our society. Perhaps it is nothing new, but it certainly seems to get more press these days. We have programs in our schools to address bullying, websites to report bullying and sections in our employee manuals that address the issue and how to handle it in the corporate world. There are training sessions on harassment (another form of bullying), government websites on how to address bullying and a vast array of policies in place to prevent bullying.

    But the problem persists. In a big, violent and ugly kinda way.

   I Googled images of bullying and found them to be pretty consistent. Mostly pictures of a bigger, stronger person (generally not very good looking) physically threatening a smaller weaker person. In photos I saw a lot of images of kids pointing and laughing at another kid. Some disturbing images showed fighting between two or more kids. A lot of photos and cartoons exhibited quiet kids sitting apart from the group looking sad. Some very interesting ones had kids that had received nasty texts or emails, the victim holding their heads in their hands. All are great images. I thought that victims were especially well represented.

   But I think we failed as a society on the image of the bully.

   Not too long ago, I addressed bullying in my religious education classroom. Maybe the last place that you would expect to hear about bullying. Most folks think that church and religion classes would be the last place kids would misbehave. I am afraid I have to disillusion you. Kids are kids, and they take their behaviors with them everywhere. As a volunteer instructor, I rely on many resources, from the materials provided by the church, advice I receive from professional teachers, and searches on the internet. But perhaps my greatest tools are my passion to teach the kids a relationship with God and the richness of our religion and my hot, very short temper.

   Yep, you read that last part right. I have a very short temper and I get angry. And this anger is one of my best teaching skills. It is the anger that made me not only address bullying, but take action against it. And I received insight on what a real bullies looks like. Oddly enough, they did not look anything like the images that were on posters plastered all around my daughter's school or pictures to be found on the internet.  They looked like my students.

   I had asked one of my students to read a paragraph from the chapter we were studying that week. She was soft spoken girl who often sat at the back of the class. When she began to read, one of the boys made faces at another one, others began laughing, two of the girls in the back of the class started to hold a conversation. Not sure when my reader had finished her paragraph, I stood quietly at the front of the room and watched the disorder grow. At first I tried to speak, but could not even be heard above the noise. Then I dropped my instruction book together with my bible on the floor. (Okay, I did a little more than just drop them.) The resounding crash created instant silence in the room and 16 pair of eyes were looking at me.

   My first question was to ask what was just read. No one could tell me. A few tried to tell me they could not hear over the noise. I stopped this line of conversation immediately. Next I asked if any of them had participated in anti-bullying programs at their schools. All of them had and immediately wanted to tell me all about it. I nipped this conversation in the bud by announcing that they had all failed the program. I told them take a look around the classroom, they were all bullies. That got their attention.

   I explained that a bully was someone who did not respect another person. Talking and laughing and "funny faces" were their way of saying to the person speaking or reading that they did not care enough about them to be bothered with listening and giving their attention to that person. Their message to me and to the reader was clear. What we were covering in class just was not important and not worth their time.

   I asked one of the offenders to stand up and tell me what they knew about bullying. When they started to talk, I interrupted with a song. A few started to laugh, but I stopped and shook my head. I asked the student to tell me how it felt when I interrupted him - his response was "bad." I looked at the kids who had been giggling and told them they had just helped me to bully another person by participating with their laughter, did that make them feel better? As they absorbed this, I told them that they alone had the power to stop this vicious cycle. The first step was to give respect to others around them, no matter what they looked like, how they behaved, if they knew them or if they agreed with them. And respect meant taking the time to listen, even if they were tired, had a hard day or wanted to be somewhere else.

   The second step was harder. They had to apologize and mean it. This would show that they wanted to be inclusive and would respect and love those around them. So they did. They apologized to me. But I was not the one they had bullied and I pointed that out to them. I asked them to respectfully ask for forgiveness from their classmate and IF she accepted their apology, that we would continue the lesson. I told her it was okay if she was still mad at them and did not want to accept the apology. Their behavior was unacceptable. I have to admit, it was the most sincere apology I have heard in a long time. She responded quietly to them that she forgave them. I asked my soft spoken girl if she would like to read the passage again to her classmates while they respectfully listened to her. A big grin broke out on her face and she nodded yes. Then she read the passage again.

   You could have heard her down the hall.

   Our discussions that day were rich and insightful. My soft spoken student still tends to be soft spoken. My class still tends to be noisy and there are still days when I think duct tape or rope would be useful tools in the classroom. I still have to remind them about respect and bullying and acceptable behavior. But I seem to lose my temper a little less often and I think my students have come to recognize that they are both a part of the problem and essential to the solution.

Beautiful Moments

   Today did not start off well. I had this plan for my morning (yep, go ahead, have a good laugh, God did) and was very conscious of the time it would take me to to accomplish each of tasks ahead of me. Some were trivial tasks, but others were important, like going to my daughter's school to see her presentation on her state project. Dropping off materials that were loaned to me for my religious education class preparation. Working on my laptop to see if I could figure out why it is freezing up from time to time (or more often than that) and working slower than it should be. Calling the doctor and making some check up appointments.

   I had gotten my daughter up, made her lunch, started putting together breakfast and was about to call up to her room to tell her to get moving already when I received my first inkling that all was not well. My daughter called me. From the living room. Where she was lying on the couch. My first surprise was that she was fully dressed. My second was that she did not look too good. She said she had a very bad headache. And she looked like she did.

   My suggestion that she eat something and it might help were met with a hard line "get real mom" stare. So I went in the cabinet, broke a Tylenol in half and brought it back to the couch with some milk and dry Fruit Loops in a bowl. She was clearly upset. I got myself a bowl of Fruit Loops and a cup of coffee and sat down with her. The bird, marveling at breakfast in the living room (she usually joins us on the kitchen counter) broke into a combination of song and talking to rival any past performances on her part.

   No sooner did I take a bite of my nutritious breakfast (I read the box - it is chock full of nutrition!) than my darling needed a cold washcloth. Being the good mom, I provided one. My spoon poised above my bowl once more, my beautiful girl asked for a tissue - located in the kitchen. I no sooner had the thought of actually taking a drink of my coffee when she announces that she feels queasy.

   I am really not a bad parent, just a person who is not good at mornings. I suggested that she go up to the bathroom. Fortunately for me, she only had to use the bathroom, so it was a good suggestion. When she came back down to lay on the couch, she informed me that her head felt all stopped up. And she wanted to go to school. Today was See The USA day when all the kids did their presentations on their State poster and boxes. She had worked very hard on her project, doing research and practicing speaking with her note cards. Since she was presenting to a bi-lingual class, she even had a few note cards in Spanish.

 

   I assured her that I would take her to school as soon as she started feeling better. I gave her an allergy pill (duh, you would think I would have thought of this before) that had nothing other than antihistamine in it (remember, I had already administered Tylenol some time earlier) and called the school to let them know that she had a headache and we were hoping to get to school soon. I promised to call back if there was no improvement.

   We talked some over the zealous bird chatter. She told me about who she sat next to in class. I rubbed her feet with lavender oil (my friend called me to tell me that this was a great homeopathic remedy, just use a drop of lavender with some oil). My daughter looked at me funny. I told her if it did not work on her head, at least she would have some good smelling feet! That reminded her of a car trip when she took her shoes off and we threatened her that we were going to hang her feet out the window if she did not cover them again. As her head began to clear, she started to eat her nutritious breakfast of dry Fruit Loops (read the box, it tells you all the nutrition facts!). Soon the washcloth was not needed anymore. She leaned back the recliner on the couch end and sat up looking more like her usual self. Color began to fill her cheeks. After awhile I had her go stand outside on our front porch in the chill air to get some fresh air into her lungs. That did the trick. She was ready.

   We arrived at her school just as the presentations were beginning. Since my morning was already out of order, I watched the kids that came before her and enjoyed their talks very much. My daughter did a really great job herself (if I say so myself) and I saw the teachers nodding their approval when she read her Spanish cards to the class. It was a proud moment for me. And I was glad my day was out of order, because I would never have had this quiet time with her, fun time with her class, or down time for myself.

   When I left class, I told Kate just to call if she needed to come back home. She said she was doing fine. I ran my errands and did some of my to-do list. I did my thing.

   Chirp, our bird, did her thing.