Hair-Raising Behavior

Didn't I tell you the black community has issues with hair? Clearly not everyone is heeding my warning about where not to tread. If you are not under a rock, you have most likely heard about the teacher who cut a 1st-grader's braid because she would not - breathe deep, Monica - stop twirling it. The CHILD. was TWIRLING. her hair. And that warranted scissors, it seems.

I was trying really hard to push this to the back of my mind, but it's everywhere and even Essence jumped on it, which is akin to Oprah calling a special meeting of the sistahs. (Note the url that calls the place "crazytown.") Nordette wrote about this with a little more depth than anything I first read so take a look at her story here: http://www.blogher.com/teacher-cuts-childs-braid-gets-175-fine.

I knew the little girl was black. What I did not know at first and honestly tried so very hard not to think about was whether or not this teacher was white. Dang it, she was. Seems to me she was either looking for a racial incident or she's the most sheltered teacher in America. Now before I go on, I've been reading what people have to say about this and one person who agreed this woman was nuts also wanted to stress that this is not a color issue, wishing that black Americans didn't have such knee-jerk reactions. The statement was made by a black woman, but I am guessing not a native American and that does make a difference. If you have never been abused (or lived in the midst of it), you cannot judge the self-preservation actions taken by the one who has. So let me clear this up now. No one wants it to be a color issue. But our race as a whole has PTSD (or maybe PSSD would be better) and it's not going away any time soon. When bad incidents happen, Black Americans in general pray every time that color isn't involved or that it's not a black person having an issue with a white one. We collectively hold our breaths. We are let down most of the time. So when it is a black and white person involved, we hope against hope it's not racially motivated. We don't all choose to have a knee-jerk reaction. It is the PTSD and it can't be helped. Please don't be so naive and stop trying to dismiss it.

Back to the teacher, I'm sure there have been blacks who have also maliciously cut some kid's hair who is not their own (Nordette mentions one case), but I am also sure any black person who does this knows precisely the implication of their action. It's a form of feminine castration for many black women.

I told you - the hair is sacred.

It's ingrained in us like the urge to fly is in a baby bird. No one is immune. Not even me. Reading this story got me PISSED big time and it happened so fast I didn't know what hit me. I immediately thought of all the teachers surrounding my children and the couple of times I have had to tell a teacher that my son, for instance, is not perfect at all times and his "change in behavior" after 6 months in school from quiet and obedient to a little talkative is not a sign of trouble at home. Instead it is a sign of them not knowing him like they thought they did. And how could they? They don't stay with him past that one grade.

Cutting that girl's braid is a sign of that teacher either not knowing the children she teaches - mainly black children, it is said - or just not caring. But if my daughter came home telling me that story, I can't promise I wouldn't get in that teacher's face. I would insist my husband come with me as we talk in front of the principal not because it's the adult way to handle the situation but because even now I can just feel myself choking the person who dared to lay a hand on my hair-twirling child in this most brazen way. I tell you, I was truly livid for this girl whom I don't know. How up in arms do you think I would get to find out it happened to my own?

You can take probably every culturally psychological issue we have as a people and lay it at the feet of slavery. That is likely the start of the self-esteem getting entwined in our hair and we simply have not dealt with it or refuse to believe there is a connection there. But even if you don't think the root of the hair problem is slavery, one thing is for sure - while we don't go looking for this, the majority of us do wrestle with a hair issue.

Maybe we want it straight because we want to be like white women. Maybe we are determined to be natural in order to spit in the face of that other thought. Maybe we want to braid our hair but there are still companies and careers where natural African-American hairstyles are considered bad form. (Oh yes. Those places do exist.) We have challenging hair, it's no lie, so we do what we can to make it easier to handle. I like braids and twists not because it's cultural but because it's just easier - get up and go! Plus, my hair grows better when I simply leave it alone. Thankfully, I am black and no one looks at me twice if I braid my hair. (Well, they do, but usually because they like it and it might even mean me going into teaching mode about my hair. Sigh. It does get a little tired.)

For some of us, those natural curls of ours are less a source of pride and more an embarrassment. But these and many other issues are owned by us, whether we want to own them or not and we go into defense mode when someone touches our issue - just like anyone of any other culture would. If a non-black person says a word about our hair or touches it or tries to just ask why we do what we do, it's like a sonar going off among nearby black women and every one of them will run to your defense, even if you personally aren't offended. "Its NONE of YOUR business! We can do what we want with our hair!" Don't tell your hairdresser there was talk, either. There will be consequences. And please, don't be a non-black parent with a black or mixed race child and not take care of their hair. There is a special prison where we lock you up for that offense. If that is you, just ASK FOR HELP. You won't find a black mother unwilling to help you beautify that child because, as as I said, our hair is sacred and so is the hair of every big and little sistah (or brotha) we see. There is no excuse for letting a child go wild.

It's a sensitive issue. You can't wish it away or joke it away or try to make black people feel badly for reacting the way we do. It is what it is. This teacher was foolish to do what she did. I don't necessarily think anyone should be required to learn the culture of another, but if you are going to work heavily with a population, it would behoove you to get a clue about the things they value and the things they take issue with. That teacher is naive to think people should not be upset (if she indeed thinks that). I still want her fired but I can't tell you yet if my logical, fair side is even in the conversation. A $175 fine for a teacher in Chicago probably does hit the wallet (good) but it's not enough. I'd even accept cultural sensitivity training (on top of the fine AND firing) and that to me is usually a lame thing to do.

I'm still angry. Truly. I want to hear this woman is gone. Just like Erin Andrews' stalker will hopefully get jail time for peeping at her and posting embarrassing pictures of her on the Internet, I want this teacher to face some kind of punishment for going one step further and laying a hand on the head of a child in front of all of her peers, equally and unnecessarily embarrassing her. But I also hope all this cutting behavior will mean some real discussion between the races about how to respect each other and within the race (black Americans and blacks from other countries) about the length of our hair issues. In the meanwhile, my daughter and I have hair appointments this weekend. You can bet the shop will be hopping mad.

Children Say the Dumbest Things

I was born and lived in southeast D.C. until I was 9. I went to a private school, where the teachers sometimes let you spend the night at their homes. (It was indeed a different time.) My best friend at school was one of the most popular kids in school even though we were on the younger end of things. We mostly got along with the older kids, though, simply because they adored my cute and friendly best friend so life was good.

I lived on a REALLY long street (at least that's how I recall it) where you could literally see the financial differences between the homes as you drove from one end to the other. I was in the middle. My best friend's house on my street was pretty much as far as I could go on one end. It was headed toward the rougher end. Maybe that was partly why. We had block parties and everyone played together. I was even Miss B Street one year because of my grades. Life was good there too.

Right before 5th grade, my family and I moved to Philly. That's when life became a challenge. The kids in Philly had a knack for knowing I wasn't from there because I spoke "proper" or "white." (My private school was all black, by the way, including most if not all of the teachers.) If you don't know what speaking proper means, it means I use nouns AND verbs and some of my words may be more than 2 syllables. I'm sure any African-American can tell you the deal with this particular issue. It's right up there with the light-skinned/dark-skinned and good hair/bad hair crap we still struggle with today. (Oh yeah. My hair was long too and so in the early days some kids believed it was fake even when it was pinned up.) Basically, this is all stupid. But it's still very much alive and ruining lives on a daily basis.

I eventually found my people in Philly and by high school, found some relative peace. But you never forget the dumb things kids say to each other. As much as you hate to let it get to you, you know you are shaped by it for life.

That's why it slightly pains but mostly angers me when my kids come home with the latest grievance.

Today from 4th-grade Son: "Today I was mostly ignored. I spoke to them but no one really spoke back."

Yesterday from Son: "Mommy, some people told me my eyebrows make me look angry. When I raise them up, I look friendlier. Can I make them thinner?"

Last week from 1st-grade Daughter: "Today I was drawing and (Nameless Child) told me I have no imagination."

Last month from Daughter: "Mommy, ever since I started wearing glasses, people don't speak to me anymore. The only ones who speak to me are the other kids with glasses."

My response to every one of these? "Are you alright? Did that hurt your feelings? Well, do you know why that happened?" Generally, they say they are OK and they didn't know why the kids said what they did. After I see they aren't literally crying over it and feel certain they aren't going to have a break down or start trying to be different, I tell them that "friends" don't talk to friends that way. I tell them they can feel free to say, "Why do you feel that way? Yeah? Well, that's just stupid and you can keep on walking."

I do not love children. I love MY children. Big difference. So "stupid" is not a word I want to teach my kids but mainly because I want them to respect each other. They are the only siblings they have. I tell them not to use that word on each other but I'm short on patience so when I hear this, I tell them that kids sometimes just say stupid things to each other, like that black people aren't "s**t," (uttered by a Jamaican child), but they can't let it ruin their day. As long as THEY don't agree and WE don't agree, then nothing else matters. In the words of Mariah Carey, we gotta shake it off.

"Daughter, your glasses are super cute and you are super cute in them, I tell you. I never wore them but they look GOOD on you, girl! (They really do.) You tell them if they don't want to be your friend because you wear glasses, then they are ridiculous and you don't have time for it. Not talking to someone because of glasses is just DUMB. You tell them that, Daughter."

"OK."

"No, Son, I am not going to let you make your eyebrows thinner. Your eyebrows are perfect. In fact, they are MINE (before I started getting them waxed). And anyone who knows you knows you are not angry. You tell them that's just the silliest thing you've ever heard and you keep on going."

"OK."

Son already has to deal with the foolish friends who tell him that he's "big" while they are skinny. Um, yeah, silly ones. His father is 6' 3", you little loonies. His cousins are drafted for pro basketball. Stop trying to make him feel badly for being a developing child. One day you'll strain your neck looking up at him.

I hate to see them getting their feelings hurt over things they have no control over or that simply aren't true but the little tykes are too limited in their world view to know it. I hate to keep telling them their so-called friends are silly and maybe they need to rethink their definition of a friend, or at the very least teach those kids how to treat them - give respect, get respect. Give nonsense, get the back of the head as you walk away. (Fingers together. Let us chant - We will not resort to smacking people. We will not resort to smacking people.) I suspect one day they will say exactly what I said and then we'll have all this politically correct crap to deal with, but I'll be all too happy to show my color then and share with the school admins/parents that my children are my primary concern, not their need to placate everyone.

I am SO glad not to be growing up at this time. The stupidity just flows from old to young to younger to youngest. My son's sensitive nature makes me concerned for him. He internalizes and keeps it there but he still tells me about it - for now. My daughter tends to wear her heart on her sleeve too but her hurt turns to anger and eventually she shakes you off, but all the world will hear her shaking you off. My concern for her is that someone ELSE will get hurt one day.

They tell me these things and I get thrown back to my own childhood every single time. I come back verbally swinging and hand them the bat, but yet trying not to make these things into baggage they will carry one day. I may not be winning that particular battle. But for now, we'll keep on cleaning Daughter's glasses, rubbing Son's eyebrows in the mornings so they lay straight and telling them they are the coolest kids we know - because they are.

Back to School Part II and More

I'm still trying to figure out what's going on with the month of September. It's a month full of all sorts of activities and possibilities from what I can feel and from what I am told. I really have no idea what to expect from one moment to the next. I do know a lot of stuff is going on with people around me and I am simply doing my best to go with the flow this month.

For instance, Daughter and Son finally got their beloved items from my parents. I was looking for one box but three arrived and not all at once. Two boxes one day and about 4 days later, the third box arrived with the highly coveted backpacks. Except Mr. T took a look at Son's and saw it was too small for his needs so he's sticking with what he has. Mr. T had just bought it about a month before school ended so it was still new enough. Daughter got her Jonas Brothers and all is right with the world.


And speaking of the kidlets, Mr. T says Daughter is an old woman because she just lost another tooth.


See that one in the middle at the top? That one is loose now too. Go figure. Son had two teeth pulled himself just last week. There's one of them on the bottom left there.


They're beginning to look like baby hillbillies (No offense to the hillbillies of the world who are proud gummers.) and I am rapidly running out of $1 bills as everyone pretends the Tooth Fairy is real but we all know mommy is losing sleep waiting on the baby hillbillies to conk out.

There are also lots of changes at work as co-workers come and go - more in this month than any other in the four years I've been here. Some changes I still am not at liberty to divulge to the world (but it has NOTHING TO DO WITH ME so calm down!). Work will be an interesting place too for a while.

And the business? Well, last week, Bizzy Girl and a friend of ours, who has partnered with us for the greeting card line, all went to get inspired at a Get Motivated seminar in Hartford and that was really quite a treat. I heard words from Joe Montana, Laura Bush, Rudy Giuliani and Colin Powell. All cool. Colin Powell is actually quite funny. But the people who had me on the edge of my seat were ones I had never heard of before - Tamara Lowe (I'm buying her book right after this), James Smith (this man is hilarious. That's him over there with the folded arms.), Phil Town, Zig Ziggler (whose name seemed to ring a bell) and Krish Dhanam (captivating despite his harmless look down there on the lower left). And the unexpected icing on the cake is that the majority of these previously unknown people credited God with their success. So very unexpected. Tamara (the lady in blue up there on the right) went as far as to tell the antsy ones to bear with her while she told the people who really needed it the prayer they needed to say in order make Jesus their savior. (And if you comment negatively about mixing God into these business-like things, it's going to fall on deaf ears and I'll delete it anyway so why waste your time?)

My friends and I were thrilled. We are used to being in the world but not of it. Just like we are used to being black females who worked (or have worked) in predominately white environments. It's just part of our reality. And these truly motivational words these people shared would have motivated us anyway. But because they spoke the words through their faith - our shared faith - it made the whole thing even easier to consume. I highly recommend you check these people out if you ever get the chance. And the profits from Tamara's book - ALL of the profits - are going to support various charities. A woman after my own heart.

After all that dynamic speaking on Wednesday, my same friends and I all trekked to Hartford this past weekend for the Women's Expo. Our first major, 2-day expo at which we were going to be vendors. This was not inexpensive to do but we had to try. I won't go into detail about this just yet. It deserves a post all it's own. But I will say it is very tiring to do these things and we learned quite a bit, which I will share with you as well. Nevertheless, it was fun if only because I haven't laughed so hard or slept so deeply in quite awhile and sharing a hotel room with Bizzy Girl and our partner in success was an experience worth repeating. I even got a short story out of the deal. It has something to do with blond hairs showing up in the oddest of places. (Yet another future blog post!) Oh! And our newest fun find? Fresh Company located in Hartford. I bought two fun bracelets from them (here's one of them below) and their prices are fantastic. Tell them I sent you!


Stay tuned for more from the expo!

Zzzzzz

Sigh. Time to get back on the ball.

What have I been doing? Absolutely nothing. Sure, we all went down south for a family reunion. Sure, the man and I went on our dinner cruise, watched a ton of movies, went to dinner enough to last the rest of the year, shopped for bedroom furniture and generally sat around the house looking at each other. But for the most part, while the kids were away, it was work and home and out to dinner and back to work and sleeping on the weekend and running errands and work again.

No writing. Little new business, just maintaining things. Little social networking. I disappeared on my critique group. (Sorry, guys. I still love you!) I'm STILL catching up to emails in my business account. My personal one hasn't seen me in about 3 weeks.

When the cats are away, the mice...sleep. And eat. And play a little too. That's all, folks. But the cats? Well, my parents kept them busy. I think they barely missed us.


















Mr. T is picking them up as I type. I can't wait to squeeze their little cheeks. Thankfully, they are still both young enough to want me to touch them. I just hope they remembered to pack my energy so they can bring it back to me. School starts Monday. I should be awake by then. Going back to sleep now.

Sacrifice for the Lambs

Parenting is hard. You knew that. But just in case you didn't because you don't deal with children in any way or you didn't know because you are one of those parents that lets the kids raise themselves, I'm just here to reiterate to the world that parenting is hard. So much self-sacrifice and you never really think of all the little things you may need to sacrifice occasionally or for a really long time, waiting on that magical time when they are old enough to do something or grown up and gone, gone, gone, woah oh oh oh.

You may have to get up early when you're a night owl because I think most kids are wired to wake up with the birds lest they miss a cartoon re-run.

You may have to go to bed late no matter how tired you are because of homework that never ends. "Are we done yet?" "No. I have another worksheet in my folder." Ugh.

You may have to miss that favorite TV show for the same reason, so you DVR it but can you watch it? Probably not because you want to sleep, which you can't do as much as you'd like so the shows pile up and then you delete them because you're running out of space.

You may have to miss some activity you'd like to do so they can have activities of their own. After all, they need to be exposed to things and develop a life of their own.

You do have to ALWAYS rephrase things in your head before you say something the wrong way or that you don't mean, thus risking damaging their psyches or opening yourself to questions you aren't ready to answer.

You may have to miss work to take them to an appointment or to go to their school or because they are sick or because you are exhausted and the only rest you will get is when they go to school and you finally get the house to yourself.

You may have to live in a pigsty, no matter how much you hate it because sweeping every day is exhausting and asking repeatedly for the bookbags and clothes and small, pointy toys to be removed from the common areas makes you tired of hearing your own voice.

You may have to settle for quickies in the middle of the night when you'd rather sleep instead of slow-pace in the well-rested mornings because someone is forever slamming open your bedroom door just to do a little dance and then leave.

You may have to lock the bathroom door or else be forced to referee an argument from your porcelain throne. You really should just go ahead and lock that door.

You may have to put on a rubber glove to do anything in the backseat of your own car because it's always a dumping ground of the little inhabitants who insist they need to bring everything they own with them everywhere they go and then leave it there for future automobile entertainment.

You may have to eat a lot of cereal because the rest of the good food disappears faster then morning bagels in the office kitchen. They are ALWAYS hungry and will tell you so in a really whiny voice.

You may have to wear clothes you are tired of so they can buy the books in the school bookclub or get new shoes that never last more than a year anyway or simply save for some future thing you know you are going to want for them.

And just when you think you have nothing left to give and no more patience, they crawl like a cat to your side on the sofa and kiss you just because you are you. They stare at you while you watch TV just "because I love you." They work hard to find a joke that makes you laugh and run in triumph to tell the other one they succeeded. They tell daddy, "You need to treat mommy like a queen," because something in them tells them that's how it should be. And you fall in love with them all over again.

Have you voted for us today in the Start Up Nation Leading Moms in Business 2009 Competition? Check it out here. We'd REALLY appreciate it if you vote and you can do it every day until March 31, 2009 PT. There's even a new meter there now to show you how hot we are! Go ahead. Vote! We wanna be hot, hot, hot! Thanks for your support!

Three's the Harm?

Visited my gyno this week. I always manage to forget my little medical issue until I do - if I have a third child, will he have to literally cut through bone to get to him? The X-rays I did earlier this year showed nothing. Except he's been there personally and knows I have some kind of calcification going on. It's enough to make him wonder if he'd need a bone expert with him should we go for #3. (Oh, in case you don't know. I get c-sections, thus the cutting.)

"I'd want to be prepared so I think I'd want you to do a cat scan, if you think you want to have another baby."

"uh, yeah. I'll get back to you on that."

Deliberately planning to have a child is no easy decision. Money, time, space, age and lack of energy come into play. Mr. T won't get off the fence and I can't seem to either. So I remain hopeful that God will override man's medical marvels and, if it's meant to be, Baby 3 - to be here known as The Baby - will come of his own accord, or God's.

In the meanwhile, I have my now 1-month-old nephew I can look at daily and wish I could hold. I can spend money on him if I choose and I don't lose energy doing it either. Plus, the distance actually keeps that baby bell from ringing because there is no physical contact to make me get off the fence one way or the other.

"But you keep talking about it, Monica."

You don't think I notice that? I don't know what to tell ya. The story continues.

Oh Sonny Boy

I have 2 children. They are both the offspring of Mr. T and myself. They look alike, they act like, sometimes they even annoy alike. In my analysis thus far, Daughter exhibits the traits I like or accept in myself. Son exhibits the ones I have issues with.

I've talked about him before and will continue to do so not just because it's my blog and I'll whine I want to, but because this is how I process.

Daughter is moody, like me. It doesn't bother me.
Daughter isn't really a morning person, like me. I respect that.
Daughter has a fiery temper, like me. Son fears her at times. I just smile in recognition or else put her in her place.

Son is picky. I never called myself this but yeah, I like what I like and forget the rest. Still, I want him to be open because I wish I had been braver about things when I was younger.
Son is dramatic. Don't really see myself this way but that fiery temper tends to be my response to things sometimes and certainly that is over the top.
Son is slow to accept change. This could be related to the pickiness. I'm cool with change that I initiate. Otherwise, I may need a minute to readjust.

If you put my two baby bears on a rainbow and gave them a color, Daughter would be red and Son would probably be blue. So why do I clash more with my blue Son? Still figuring that out.

I admitted to a friend not too long ago that I prefer dealing with Daughter because she's easier for me. Ironic, considering I never wanted a daughter in the first place for fear we'd be too much alike and fight all the time. Son is actually easy to love. He's sweet, respectful, sincere, affectionate, smart, and when you really think about that whole pickiness thing, I suppose it shows he's strong-willed too. Who can't like those qualities? Well, those aren't the things that get to me.

Before you tell me not to compare my children, I tell you I already know they are individuals and to love them for who they are, blah blah blah. The fact is Daughter is brave. I wish Son were moreso. So many times things have come up that I am certain he would have liked if only he weren't so afraid of new things. When Daughter gets stressed, she gets angry. I suppose that is an emotion I understand so it doesn't bug me as much, though I do tell her she'll get nowhere with it. Son, on the other hand, cries and whines and repeats himself over and over and it nearly drives me nuts because of the relentless repetition of it all. If something doesn't make sense in his homework, he whines for help (I really never liked whining.) and there is this whole begging thing in his voice that grates on my nerves. I want to tell him to man up. Stop whimpering. Just say you don't get it in a normal voice. (I told you I know he's 8. Doesn't change how I feel.)

Now, I don't make things easy on them, I confess. When it comes to homework, I don't hand out answers like candy on Halloween. I say, "Look at it again. Read it again. Tell me what you understand. Tell me what you don't understand. Look at the homework in its totality. Is there nothing there to clue you in as to how you should get your answer?" (Generally, this is related to math homework.) Unlike me, Son is a linear thinker and that is something I don't know what to do with. If he knows one way to get an answer, then that is what he does forever. The moment the numbers change order or the math turns to words, all hell breaks loose.

"Son. You CAN do this. Stop. Think. Read it slowly. Doesn't some of this look familiar?"

"I don't know! I can't do it!"

Wanna get me riled up? Tell me you "can't" when you haven't even tried.

So I get stressed and wonder how to teach him how to think creatively. How do I convey that there is usually more than one way to get an answer. 9 times out of 10, when I come home to that unfinished homework he says he can't do, I ask questions, I say what I said before and suddenly he can do it after all. Still, he doesn't realize yet that he CAN do it if he tries and that all I ever ask is that you at least try before you give up. Don't immediately jump to how you can't or how it won't work or how it's not exactly how you thought it should be so it must not be the right way.

My struggles with him is in his confidence. I get angry when he downs himself, saying he's stupid or doesn't know how to do things. "I don't like math because I can't do it." But he can! Even his teachers from every single grade so far say he can. Now, I tell him he may not like it, and that's fine but he can't do it? He's lying to himself and needs to cut it out.

I suppose my fight with him is not about today, it's about tomorrow. I'm afraid he won't see what I see - a smart, creative kid with so many natural abilities if he'd let himself be aware of them. I fear he'll be a follower. Sometimes you have to but never at the expense of your own will and morals. I'm scared he'll miss out because he's suspicious of new things. When we have our shouting matches - well, me shouting, him whining - I'm pretty sure he's in the moment. I keep thinking of what today's insecurity could develop into if I don't snap him out of it. But the counselor in me also is aware that I have to be here and just make myself chill out and embrace the boy of today lest he think I don't like him for who he is. Couldn't be further from the truth. It's who he is that I see so clearly. But right now it is masked by the qualities that need refinining. And that remains the challenge - setting aside my ways so I can deal with his effectively and shine a spotlight on the things he has yet to appreciate.

It's simply not easy for me. Don't be surprised if I vent some more on the topic one day. I know all of this frustration on my part risks our future relationship, at least during those teen and early adult years when so many people are coming into their own and don't know what they don't know yet. I know that I risk giving him some sort of complex maybe or driving him into himself because he thinks I don't accept him.

Still, in all my frustration, it is easy for me to tell him how great he is and in my imperfection, I can only pray that he will one day see that all I ever wanted was the best for him and we'll finally reach a place where he too fully loves himself as much as I love him. He's my first-born after all; the one who showed me that being a parent is an honor and receiving the love of a child is a privilege. He's the one who started me on the path to enjoying simply providing for him because it made me feel good to see him healthy and happy and content to just be my son. The last thing I want to do is jeopardize all that but I have my signs. I listen out for the familiar, "Hug and kiss. I love you" that I get every night before he goes to bed. He insists upon it, in fact. That's how I know we're still in the game. I intend for us to win it.

A Quick Prayer for Madeleine

I am moved to momentarily stop and ask God to ensure that this little girl - if she is indeed still among the living - is well cared for even if she is not to be returned to her family any time soon. The ultimate conclusion, of course, is that He takes her back to her family. But only God knows what happened and why, and only He can see clearly into this. It pains me deeply to think of a child my daughter's age out there, separated for her family. She is old enough to know the people she is with now are not the people she should be with. Of course, again, we don't know what happened. It could be some other family member that has her for all we know.

As I re-read the story of the McCann's, cultural differences surface again. Just like that Danish mom who left her child in a stroller on a NY street, I suppose we have to leave room for the practices of people in other parts of the world. It just seems to me, though, that when in Rome, don't act like you're home. Keep that child close. Period. Mr. T and I are always doing that dance too - how much freedom do we give them and when? When we're away, there is no give on that invisible leash. But at home, Mr. T is more flexible than I am and I deliberately try to scare him with all the stuff that can happen in our own back yard too - literally. I guess between the two of us, the kids will come out OK but will I?

But none of this helps Madeleine right now. She is still out there somewhere and her parents, I am sure, will never feel 100% joy in life ever again. I know I wouldn't. And that leads me to the third possible conclusion to this mystery, the one no one wants to think about, but I still pray that if worse has come to worse, God please let it come to light so these people can rest in the fact that You have her now. For this moment in time, I wish them peace - one way or another.

It's Gettin' Kind of Hectic

I can't even list things. My mind is a little scattered and creating lists helps me to get it back together. It's all good, it's all growth potential but it's all over the place and I need to get my thoughts together.

• I'm talking to multiple buyers and a couple of connected bloggers about the greeting card puzzles.
• We're preparing a packet of things to send to small, but select, vending event down South where we will be sponsors and they will pitch us to gift basketeers.
• I'm talking to a storeowner about our next puzzle and letting her help guide the design because she likes the concept and will buy it if the execution is just as good. She also knows toy reps and will connect us there later on.
• Press releases are going out and we've done one newspaper interview so far. We're doing a podcast interview next Saturday.
• More networking.
• More writing.
• More work!

I kept thinking about my kids. I've been busy all this time but this is different because I am fishing in a much larger pond these days, taking more risks, and I continue to believe we are closer than we realize. It's like exercising. If you do it every day, you may hate it but eventually you start to see results and things get better overall for you though it may never get any easier - just better. If you stop for too long, you go practically back to square one. So I keep pushing. And pushing. And thinking, "I have to make sure they are with me." You can never be too sure just how much your kids know or understand until you take the time to talk to them. It's astounding just how affected they can be by something that you thought was no big deal. Or just how easy it is for them to go with the flow when you think they should be devastated. Unpredictable and flexible. That's them.

So I'm thinking, "I have to talk to them. I have to be sure." People are always asking me where I get my energy from. They wonder how I can do as much as I do. And certainly I have to sacrifice in one area in order to succeed in another but it's not either/or. It's sacrifice on one hand today for success on the other. Tomorrow you may need to switch up. That, my friends, is balance. But sacrifice is always a part of it and, like it or not, the kids will sacrifice too. Maybe you can't do as much with them or for them as you'd like while getting things off the ground. Maybe you aren't as patient as you'd like to be. Maybe you aren't as attentive as you should be. Personally, I think it's better to be honest about these things and I have accepted the fact that some days I will get it all right and some days I won't. But I am thinking as long as I keep them in the loop, we should all come out of this OK.

I went to a dinner tonight to celebrate the latest group of grads from the business workshop I had done about 5 years ago. I had already come home about 9:30 last night because Bizzy Girl and I had to talk numbers for a potential buyer. But I had said I would go to the dinner and I wanted to because one woman to whom I had recommended the program was going to be among the grads. I had to support her. So two late nights in a row. Something I try not to do.

It started at 6 and I was determined to hustle out of there by 9 at the latest, and only that because the dinner was in the same town I live in so it wouldn't take forever to get home. "Gotta get home to the kids. Gotta get home to the kids. We have to talk. We have to talk!" At 9:05 the dinner was done but I had to talk to 2 of the grads who might be good connections for my business. I had to talk to my friend who graduated but she was busy talking to the guy who founded the program, as she should. So I talked to the people with her who also happen to own the store where our puzzles were (yes were. But it's not over. Later on that topic.) It's was about 9:30 when I finally made it out.

Someone, amazingly, had thought to leave the light on outside. Usually I'm the one who thinks like that. I am guessing the kids were just playing around with the lights and didn't realize the outside light had gone on. Before I could get all the way in the house Daughter bounds down the stairs. "Son was crying for you." Great. I am coming home to make sure we're all playing on the same team and he's crying for me. Can you spell GUILT? But he's never done that before. I've come home this same time many times prior. Why tonight?

"What do you mean he's crying? For what?"

"He was waiting and waiting for you but you didn't come home." Oh brother.

So I ask him. "Why were you crying for me? I've come home this time before."

"Usually you come home at 8:30."

"But last night I came home this time. Why cry?"

"Because I love you." Again - oh brother.

If you all haven't figured this out yet, let me clue you in on my personality. I may want to talk about something but if you ask me about it before I am ready, I will get annoyed. I may realize something needs to be fixed, but if you complain about it just the very second before I do something about it, I will get annoyed. I may know my kids are wishing they had more of me but if they tell me they had more of me before I tell THEM let's talk about it, I will get annoyed. This is me. I can't explain it any more than that.

"Let's talk. Mommy has always been busy but things are a little different right now and I may be even busier than before. I am trying not to have things so busy that you rarely see me. I am trying to balance it so I will do something one day and choose not to do something another day so I am here with you. But the fact is I am trying very hard to make something grow and I am doing it for you all as well as me. I am using the gifts God gave me. I love it all and I am happy. But I want to be sure you both know that this is for you too. I want you to see that God gave you gifts and you can choose to use them in a traditional way or a nontraditional way but just use them and be happy. That's what I want for you."

Daughter asks, "Why are you telling us this?" Son simply clings to my arm because that what he does. I stick my tongue out at her and keep going.

"So, what I want to know is, is there anything, as a mommy, you wish I would do or would NOT do?" I know I am setting myself up here for loads of guilt. Bring on the, "I wish you were home more often." and "I wish you'd read to us more." or maybe "I wish you would sit and play more often." I do all these things. But I think most parents feel they don't do it enough. What do the kids think?

"I wish you'd be rich," Daughter says. "I'm trying! Son?"

"Hmmm. I wish you would not be mean to us and take away our blankets and pillows and make us sleep on the floor."

"Excuse me? When have I ever done that?"

"You haven't, so I wish you never do."

"Ohhh kaaay. Well, that's not likely to happen anyway. So of the things I DO do, what would you like me to do differently?"

"I wish you could give us lots of money," Daughter pipes up again. This is not the deep, meaningful, heartfelt conversation I was looking for. "Yeah. I got that. I told you I'm working on it. Son?"

"I wish you'd let us help with your business." Finally. Something real.

"But I do. If I go vending and you go along, you help."

"Oh yeah. Ummmmm." He taps his chin with his finger, grinning in the air as he thinks of God knows what.

"You know, if you have to make stuff up, it can't be too bad huh?"

"I wish you could do magic!" Daughter has found a stray tangent to follow.

"I love you," Son responds to a question that I think only he heard in his head.

So maybe they aren't feeling like orphans after all. And maybe I'll do more to talk about my business to them to make them feel a part of things, which is all they really want from me anyway - to be included. Maybe they are doing just fine.

Brotherly Love

My partner and I had a town event to attend yesterday. We were vending and this was our first major vending event in that 20,000 to 40,000 people attend regularly. We had to be there by 7 a.m. to register and had until 10 to set up. But of course with her daughter and my 2 children, it took a little longer just to get there. Mr. T wouldn't be available for a while so the kids were tagging along with me and I'm used to traveling in a group anyway.

It was supposed to get over 90 degrees yesterday, which mattered because this was an outdoor affair. Still, the morning felt pretty good. It was just hectic. Very hectic, and trying to set up with our 3 kids running about or bugging us to get cotton candy didn't help. The event was scheduled to start at 10 a.m. and it took us all the way to the last minute to do everything. Son's cub scout troop was supposed to sell lemonade there and I had hoped he could go do that for awhile but I knew Mr. T had to be there.

It grew hotter. A co-worker stopped by to help me and when she saw the kids were distracting us from dealing with potential customers, she graciously offered to take them around to the kiddie rides up the street. They had fun with her and before long Mr. T arrived with food for them, ready to go sell lemonade.

Peace was ours once again. We talked to people, sold a couple of puzzles and found out that the vendors who had done this event many years prior said this was in fact the worst they had ever done. It had to be OUR year that was the bad one, eh? Oh well, at least it wasn't us. My partner's cousin and niece came by to sit with us. We all talked, time went by and we wondered how the scouts were making out. It was only a couple of hours before the end of the day and we were close to the finish line.

Daughter appeared first. "Mommy, I was in the ambulance and I was eating ice cream," she said excitedly.

"Excuse me? Ambulance? What? Where's your daddy?"

Son followed, tears streaming down his face, crying one of his loudest cries. Oh Lord. Now what? Mr. T was close behind. Son came to me crying, hysterical, and I couldn't uderstand but I couldn't let him do this in a place of business either. I motioned to the chair at the table behind me and told him to sit and calm down. Mr T told me about games they were playing at the booth and letting Son and Daughter play in some bouncy thing when Son came back without Daughter.

"I went the wrong way," she said.

"I'm confused," I told them. "What happened? Why was she in an ambulance? Why is he crying?"

My partner was talking to Son trying to get him to calm down as well. She knew as well as I did his penchant for the dramatic but Lassie could get a story across better than my son when he's in hysteria mode. The woman in the booth beside me pulled back the fabric that had been hanging between us.

"Do you know that little boy," she asked. She thought he was lost. I guess she hadn't been paying much attention for the hours and hours he and Daughter and Bizzy Girl's daughter had been running around playing. "He's mine," I responded with a smile mixed with appreciation for her seeming caring question and annoyance by what also seemed to her slight aggravation at the noise.

"You know," Bizzy Girl told Son. "If you keep this up you're going to have to pay money."

"Money," Son asked between gasps of air.

"Yep. People are working here and you will drive away their customers with all that noise, so you'll have to pay for that." That seemed to help a bit.

"Son, you have to calm down. I don't understand you. So you sit and get yourself together and then tell me what happened."

Mr. T had tried to explain what he knew, which didn't seem to be any more than the kids did. He was busy helping the scouts with their game booth. One minute the kids were playing behind him, the next Son came back alone. Some girl had found Daughter and took her to the ambulance workers. I still don't know how someone knew to come to him and tell him where she was but thank God someone did. Mr T went to her and found her happily eating ice cream in the ambulance.

When Son had finally gotten quiet, I asked him again. "So what happened?"

"We were playing in the bouncy thing and Daughter left. I tried to tell her to come back but she wouldn't listen to me." That's not surprising. "I went after her but I couldn't find her." The tears started to flow again and his mouth went back into his loud cry. Oh how that cry bugs the heck out of me. He just sits there with his mouth hanging open making all the noise in the world - waaaaaa! - and I want to just disappear. "Don't start this, Son. I can't understand you. She's here. She's fine. Why are you still crying?"

"I tried to find her but I fell," he cried loudly. He had fallen trying to get back to Mr. T.

"But. She's. Here," I repeated, trying to be patient. "She's OK. What's wrong now?"

He cried and looked at me as if he didn't want to say what he really thought. But then he did. "If she's gone, I'll have no one to play with," he sniffed and geared up for a louder cry. "...and my life will be empty! Waaaa!" He yelled louder, letting the tears and his runny nose soak his shirt. Yes, my friends, this is EXACTLY what he said. He'd have no one to play with and his life would be empty. You know those cartoon with crying babies that hold their faces up to the sky, mouths gaping and tears spraying out like they were shooting from sprinklers? That was the scene, my friends. I had to turn away and deal with my muddle of laughter and anger. Son really knows how to take something to its most extreme point but what I am supposed to do with that I have yet to figure out.

Eventually normalcy returned and I brought Son next to me. "Look. I understand you were scared. Daughter doesn't listen to anyone. We know that. That's not your fault. You didn't know where she was and you got scared. Your mind went to the worst place you could imagine and you are having a hard time coming back from that. OK. But she was safe. Daddy found her. Everything is OK. You, on the other hand..." I sighed. "I'm at a loss, Son. You are dramatic. You always have been and I don't know what to do with it. Clearly you are my sensitive child and God made you that way for a really important reason but you have to learn some control. If something had been wrong with her, it would have been a whole 5 or 10 minutes before we could have done anything because when you get hysterical like this, no one can understand what you are saying and we can't do a thing but wait for you to calm down. We both have to learn what to do with this, Son. It has to change." I had to hug him. I didn't want him to think there was anything wrong with him feeling the way he did but it still annoyed the heck out of me.

"You know, Son. There one good thing about this. You now know how you'd feel if you didn't have your sister. Maybe it can teach you to treat her better, huh?" I know that was wishful thinking. Still, I have to appreciate a boy losing his little mind because he thought he had lost his little sister. As much as they scream at each other and hit each other and run to tattle on the other, I know my son and daughter love each other with the deepest love they know how to show. Daughter is a fighter and she can yell you down if you try to hurt her brother. Son is a lover and he'll hug her and hold on to her as long as she'll let him. Somehow I have to teach Daughter to not be so darn stubborn and Son to not be so sooooo sensitive. And I think I'm supposed to keep my sanity in the meanwhile.

God help me.

Some Cool Stuff

I have a friend, Bonnie. A fantastic artist. Actually, we've never met but we've spoken on the phone. I have at least a dozen friends like that - never met 'em but we click and I adore them. Anyhow, my artist friend came to me and my business partner a few years ago with a concept that we LOVED but couldn't produce for her at the time. Well, it's out there now and I think it's great. If you know someone in the hospital right now or who frequents the hospital due to some chronic condition(s), these cards are not only something that can brighten up their day but they make it easier to communicate when talking just isn't something they are up to. Check these out! I am so proud of Bonnie for getting this done. It's awesome. I already ordered mine.

Last night, I was watching a challenge initiated by a business coach - Andrew Morrison who does Small Business Boot Camp. For 16 weeks, he's got 12 business owners striving to get their businesses to a profit level they've never achieved before. In the meanwhile, he's going to take his new Internet TV show and by the end, have something he can pitch to major networks as a new reality show. So last night he recommended a site called http://www.ning.com/. This is where you can create your own social network. I thought that was pretty cool. His thought, though, was this is one way to get all your "team" together in one place because often the people helping us build our businesses are scattered across the country, maybe around the world. Interesting concept. But if you feel like having a special place for your special group, you might want to check this out.

So the incident with Son made this website stand out for me. Actually, this woman is in my new business networking group. So I saw her profile and saw her site and I loved this. Though I don't know yet if I'd do it because I'm always concerned about skin issues. My kids have a little of my eczema. So sorry. It's called SafetyTat. "Get the tat that brings them back!" I really love this though. Very creative.


One of my favorite magazines is Domino. That, along with Real Simple, is just such a fun magazine that marries design with organization so I can spend hours with one magazine if I cared to. This month's Domino had this interesting little cutting board that might not make the average person's heart leap, but you see I live with people who can't seem to put things in the trash even when it's right next to them and empty. Cartons are opened and left on the counter. Mr. T's coffee-making habits leave clues even a blind detective could pick up. It drives me nuts to come home and have to throw trash INTO the trash can; wipe up spills; sweep up crumbs. So this flexible cutting board made me stop and go, "Ahhh!" It's called a Chop Keeper and you can chop on it and then bend it to pour the contents wherever you like. It even has sides! It says you get 3 for about $13 so you can be sure I'm ordering this.

Now if you have disposable income - very disposable - you may like these convertible heels I read about in Daily Candy. Camileon heels. They turn from 3" to 1 1/2" in a snap! Now THAT is cool. It's also $300 but it's at least 2 pairs of shoes in one! OK, so I won't be buying them because my kids are 2 pairs of shoes in a month - each. But maybe, one day, when I'm old and gray and can spend my money on me again. Just maybe.

Keep It To Yourself

If you are a parent, grandparent or anything that brings children into your life on a regular basis, please, please PLEASE think about the little ears around you and keep your neuroses to yourself!

I am annoyed. Son asked me last night if he was fat because he's 64 pounds.

"What?!" I breathed. "Who told you you were fat?"

"I weighed myself on Nana's scale."

He did this because over Easter, my SIL didn't want to eat too much because she's in the midst of losing weight - or trying to. She doesn't seem too happy with how it's going. So MIL brought out her new scale and they weighed themselves...on Easter...at dinner. And SIL actually did it before eating and after eating and then was upset because she had gained! "Woman, you just ate! What do you expect?"

Sigh.

The kids saw this as a new toy so they hopped on too. No harm done - I thought. I wasn't thinking I would have to tell Son not to obsess over that scale. But I do. He says he wants to eat healthy. "Maybe I shouldn't eat," he said. What? What?! My goodness. All I could do was bite my tongue because I was truly getting mad (still am) but I know he wouldn't understand why I was angry. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe I can use this to my advantage prefacing everything with, "remember how you said you want to eat healthy? Well, broccoli is good for you! Try 'em!" Of course, we've already gone this route only to run into a dead end but maybe he's ready to try again.

Still, I was mad last night that he even asked me if he was fat. Weight is certainly an issue for Mr. T's mom and 2 sisters. They mention is A LOT. Weight is a big issue in my family too since most of us start out small but the females tend to gain with childbirth. Only my mother and I don't take too kindly to reminders about it. It's other family members - mainly Southerners - who find this to be an appropriate topic of conversation. (Uh uh uh. Don't even say it. I was born in D.C. which is SOUTH and my both sides of my family are Southerners and I will always be one at heart even if my birthplace really has me straddling the Mason-Dixon line.)

"How's the family? How's the job? How much DO you weigh now?"

Everybody. Please. SHUT UP! I'm beyond sick of it.

Whatever my issues with weight, I deliberately chose to go the opposite way with my kids and either not mention weight to them directly or simply to tell them how good they look no matter what. I even try to curb my tongue about myself lest either one of them take it and run. But they talk the talk anyway and sometimes it's good, sometimes I'm not so sure.

"Daddy, how big are you? You must be 400 pounds!" OK, that IS funny. The kids like to compare us. Mr. T is 6' 3" and weighs, well, probably a little more than he should but his job requires him to be physically fit so he can't be too bad and I'm happy so who cares? When they compare me to him, though, I always come out tiny. Or he's big, I'm medium and they're small and extra small. We listen. We laugh. We don't indulge the talk but so far because I know how it can go.

I do hate to hear the fat talk. I do hate to hear the concern about their health as if they were living on the edge of death at all times. I do watch them quietly because I want to keep their weight and food in check for diabetes reasons. I tell them they look good or I tell them what they are wearing ain't working anymore. Time for something new. I try NOT to inflict my issues on them. It's not fair to them. They will develop issues of their own soon enough. We encourage them to do whatever they have an interest in in order to get out of the house because we don't live in the world I grew up in where kids could go out to play all day and come back home safe and sound. It's not safe enough to do that anymore, as far as I am concerned.

I just want my kids to be the happy, silly, inquisitive people they are but life refuses to let that happen I see. The bad stuff gets all mixed up in there and they come to me with concerns I'm not ready for them to have. I never considered myself to be an overprotective mother but maybe I should just lock them in their rooms and save myself the future agita. Other people just are not cooperating. They keep saying things, not thinking, forgetting my kids are around. Hmm. Maybe I should lock up the other people and make the world a safe place for the innocents once again. Now there's an idea.

Doped Up Babies?

After 8 years of being a parent, I am still amazed by the number of things there are to afraid of that I never thought about. I was watching a makeover show last night as I chilled out so I could go to sleep. The woman getting the makeover had been a drug addict and worse for many years before finally getting her act together at the age of 41. Her mother had had her at the age of 11 but she grew up in a foster home - relatively stable, it seems - but the parents were old enough for her to get away with telling people they were her grandparents. This girl had first started smoking weed at the age of 5.

Five.

F-I-V-E.

Can somebody tell me how the heck that happens and no one notices? Just a hypothetical. I know darn well how it happens but she was one year older than my daughter is now and she was smoking joints, people!

I quickly woke up, sat up, and shivered at the thought. It was truly a scary thought. The child in the room next to mine could be sneaking weed somewhere? Unlikely, I know, since she's never out of someone's presence for very long but it's possible and that is freaky. I know I have to talk to my 8-year-old about sexual issues. I know I have to dumb down the topic for my daughter. I know I have to talk to son about everything under the sun, frankly. But the idea of my five-year-old being capable of finding weed, learning to smoke it and then being able to hide it from me is more than I can bear. And since my child is brilliant and every generation is smarter than the last, you know it's not outside the realm of possibility this happens way more than we think or know.

Before children, I was oblivious and happy-go-lucky. When I was pregnant with Son, I had loads of anxieties suddenly plague and try to paralyze me. Then you have the kid and you snap out of it and get on with the business of life and raising them and taking it day by day figuring out how to incorporate all the life lessons you want to teach and issue all the warnings they need to heed.

Daughter is heading to kindergarten in August and I already had enough on my mind thinking about the bus driver not paying attention and dropping her AND her brother off at the wrong stop. Now I can add one more thing to my list of concerns regarding their generation.

I thought I was past all this worrying. I guess not.

Time to Play Catch Up!

A Good Word
First of all, I'd like to mention that Kerri gave me a little press over here at Aisle Dash, a wedding blog on AOL. Thanks, Kerri! Hopefully it will send traffic our way and better yet - business!

Failing the Test?
Speaking of business, the fundraiser is over as of today at the high school where we are testing this. We are crossing our fingers it's a significant amount of puzzle sets sold because the class adviser never kicked this thing off right resulting in way too few people even hearing about it. So some kids are selling but not nearly as many as we had hoped - we think. We'll see. Time to round up a new school and this time we'll make sure they kick it off right or they let us do it ourselves. On the plus side, we do have a major organization that wants to talk to our marketing rep about doing this too, as well as a PR agency that responded to a cold email she sent out in response to something she saw in the newspaper. Hopefully they'll both join the team!

Mo' Money!
In other news, children cost a ton of money! OK. This is no news flash for those of you who have them. The amount of things I have had to do for my kids lately is making me wish I had a part-time job so I can at least make money for ME! Fundraisers, cub scout uniform, birthday party necessities...it's getting insane. But that is the point of my business isn't it? To make it profitable enough to become a good side gig until it can become the real deal? Still, I am starting to feel like I will never catch up to their needs and wants and I am NOT an overindulgent parent. I just like to get them what they want from time to time because good kids like mine deserve that and generally speaking I like providing for them as much as I can. So this has to be my motivation. I have to get things into gear for all our sakes. It's not like we're not trying but we really need to do more.

Awaking the Muse
I'm writing again at last. Walking in the mornings is proving good for my creativity - as well as all the writing I've had to do for work lately, among other things. It's really rough and I'm only anxious to get a first draft for the sake of my crit group. But I'm glad something else is trying to come forth. Maybe it will get me back into submitting some other stuff again. But we've been talking about finding agents lately and I would love that. Get an agent or self-publish. I'm not sure I have the time or patience for anything else. My thing is doing it yourself is the only way to ensure things get done.

Speaking of Writing
I'm CONSIDERING NaNo again this year and I ain't got the time for it AT ALL. Somebody please talk me out of it! Right now I'm sleep because I've been out late every night this week for business meetings, cub scouts or silliness with co-workers. The delirium probably has me talking about NaNo again. I can't do it.

I can't.

I....might.

Untitled

I felt like publishing myself today. As I go through the boxes in my office, it is truly amazing the stuff I have forgotten about over the years. Found an old diary I wrote in from the ages of 11-13, though it wasn't a daily thing. Sporadic but enough to preserve some times I've never forgotten and clearly was influenced by. I also came across this poem I wrote back when I had my one child and we had an incident with the Department of Children and Families all because of a grabby 2-year-old girl. This poem arose from my anger at that time:

Duty-bound, you only did the practice you had learned.
I did not act as you expected and so I seemed unconcerned.
But you know nothing of the depth of this mother's love.
You know nothing of the life she'd give to save her Own.
You know nothing of the circle of compassion that surrounds us day and night.
You know nothing about our way, our dreams, our hopes, our frights.
You look to scientific means to guide your daily moves.
I look to higher authority and strive to act in love.
You listen for indications of all you have been taught.
I listen to my inner voice, the Spirit within my heart.
My Spirit speaks of mercy, my Spirit speaks of peace.
My Spirit dwells in others too whose counsel I sometimes seek.
My Spirit calms my clawing fears and gives me the ability.
To be the parent I dream of, the one I pray to be.
The patient one, the loving one, the one who's by his side,
the maternal one with spiritual bonds weaker only than hers with God.
I am so very proud to be the one chosen to raise this son.
This is a job for me and mine. You are not the one.
Instead maybe you should spend some time studying how things are supposed to be.
The father, the mother, and the child, God's familial trinity.

M.O.M. Blogger Monica - April 13, 2001

Taking a Moment

I'm swamped. Really. At home and at work, I can barely get a moment to think, let alone blog or even blog hop. So my newly acquired friends are going to think I don't care but it's not true. Oh so not true! How's the new home, Theresa? How's your back, Liz? Amazing color on your blog, by the way. As usual. Summer, you are one of the ones I like to follow and you continue to be in my thoughts and prayers. Lynn, when are you going to post again, woman?!

I was talking to a friend today about my really being able to veg out when given the opportunity. My need for speed is a well-known fact among the people I am around regularly. I admitted that I couldn't sit still TOO long or else I'd feel I was wasting my time, but lately, there is not a moment to spare and I am oh so in need of it.

All day at work, the projects keep coming. If I hated my job, this would truly be a struggle but because I love it, I thrive despite my longing for a break. At home, it's the end of another school year. I have attended more events at my Son's school these past 2 months than I can care to think about right now. And tonight? I have to go to yet another concert at a different school. Actually, it's a concert that was already held at his school - the 1st-graders (him), had a part in one song in a 5th-grade concert - and now they will join 6th-graders at another school to rehash it, um, enthrall us, once again. So I get to sit through twice the singing just so I can see my one little 1st-grader sing along in one song. And he's barely a 1st grader now! He's moving on to 2nd and it just seems weird. When he hits 3rd, Daughter will join him at his school for kindergarten and the fun will REALLY begin. I can't get that far ahead of myself.

We are also gearing up for Son's summer program, which is every bit as intense as regular school so this is not a break for me in the least. Oh no sir-ee! This is a learning opportunity for us all and a chance for him to do things and see places he wouldn't normally do or see in a normal school year. And hopefully it will prove to be one of the things that gives him a leg up as he progresses in school.

Business continues to pull me in another direction, but who is complaining? One medium-sized job is done and we are hopefully wrapping up the 1st phase of this big project so I can concentrate on the next medium-sized job and potentially 4th one before the 2nd phase of the big one commences. Keeping up? See why I need that book I mentioned last post? When that wraps, another big one will hopefully be in the wings, if the client is ready to start by then. Along the way, I have to try to get the website worked on some more, among other things.

No complaints. But I'm taking a moment to write this simply because I needed to NOT think of work for just a little while. But August is coming, the tykes will be with my parents for awhile and Mr. T and I will be cue the music - cruisin'. On a unny afternoon (or 6), yeah bay-ba! Can't wait and yet don't want to rush the summer either so I have to wait. That's OK. We're going to finally paint the foyer so I can do some things I've been wanting to do there and I'm going to knuckle down and get my bookshelf for my office so I can do what I want to there as well, so I do have some fun coming.

My LA Weight Loss Counselor is wondering where I've been. They've closed the office I've been going to over the course of the past 7 years. So hard to believe. I really don't have the money or concentration for this right now but I do want to get back on track too - eventually. I know my limits. Weight loss takes concentration and I don't have it in me right now. But we'll see. I promised him I'd call him back tomorrow. I like his attitude so I try to follow through with him. But it's going to cost something in the end and I just don't want to stretch it right now. We're still paying taxes, after all and Daughter has been asking for that Dora Kitchen longer than I can remember now. Gotta get it for her before she comes home from her August trip.

Well, this was meant to just be a somewhat rambling post and I think I accomplished that. I need to go check up on Theresa now. Oh wait! My boss just IM'd me from home. There goes my trip to the corner store for unnecessary chocolate.

Livin' My Life Like It's Golden

That's me. That's why it's been an INSANE amount of time since I last posted! But I still love you all. Really! I am always amazed by the amount of time I take to do the things I do. When did I last post? Great day! May 15th? Exactly two weeks ago? Has it been THAT long? And what do I have to show for it?

Let's see.

1 - A huge disagreement with Mr. T. that resulted in my not talking to him for about 2 days so that I wouldn't go off any more than I already had. (I wrote about it. I'll re-read it and probably post it since I do write about marriage but what I DO NOT seek to do is scare the singles. Marriage is work and that's all there is to it.)

2 - A huge deal for my business that has had my team and I running at high speed for these past few weeks. Plus, I've been working on a couple of very important jobs for friends of mine - one of whom is getting married - so it's been great in that way. I love to see new puzzles come to life.

3 - A major change in the host for our website. The old people, who were only our people for about 8 months, had to go. Just like in a good marriage, communication in a business relationship is essential and we just weren't talking the same language. Our new people are very promising because one of them is a former co-worker whose work I trust. We're very excited about it. For now, the flash created by the former developers is running but it's inaccurate - another reason to make the change.

4 - I switched to my summer hair. Oh sweet twists. How I missed thee! (Picture to come later.)

5 - I had jury duty last Friday and for the first time ever got out by 10:30 a.m. God gave me a reprieve. He knew I needed a real break and the last THREE times I served I stayed all day just to go home without being picked to serve. Some of you may think I got off but darn it, if I'm going to go anyway, pick me! Pick ME! But I think they have called on me way too often now so it's time to pay close attention. Let this be a notice to myself that I SERVED JURY DUTY ON MAY 25, 2007 and therefore, if I am called again before May 25, 2010, they are harassing me!

6 - Mr. T. and I went to see Son in not one but TWO school productions in the same month and that, like jury duty four times, is above and beyond. The sacrifice? Well, the first one was a 2 1/2 hour production. It had 34 acts, Oh yes, I said 34. Son was in Act 1. That's it. But we stayed for the rest. Aren't we good? Oh yes we are! But it was cute, really. The second show was only about an hour but it was a 5th and 6th grade concert. Son, NOT a 5th or 6th grader, was one of the kids to hold up a sign for the song they sang from The Sound of Music. You know the one. "Do, a deer, a fe-male deer..." He held up "SO" nice and tall. That's my baby. He sang along and came to sit with us when he was done. And yes, we stayed for the whole thing. Has anybody seen my badge of courage?

7 - Mr. T and I also got a little music of the adult variety when we went to see Earth, Wind and Fire in concert at Mohegan Sun. We grooved that night. I learned EWF is one year younger than I am and I am 36. I knew I grew up on the stuff but I had no idea just how intertwined EWF and I were. I only know that the music of the 70's is my father's music and the 80's, of course, is my era and that is the stuff I continue to love more than the music of today. I think it's the feeling that goes along with it, of a peaceful time when all was taken care of and I could really just exist. It was very cool.

That's pretty much my life in a nutshell. Work at my job, work at home, plan for kids' summer vacation - and mine. You know. Life.

And now, I need a little ice cream.

Belated Greetings!

I am late. I know. I have been busy being an entreprenuering mommy. Going to Son's 2 1/2 hour talent show Friday night. Going to nephew-in-law's graduation and late lunch Saturday. Going to church with family Sunday and just lazing about eating free ice cream because it was MY day after all. Still I must tell the blogging mothers of the world...

Happy Mother's Day!

I even updated my puzzle image of the week - late - to reflect the belated sentiments. We multitasking mommies and mommies-to-be have a lot on our collective plate but I congratulate every mother who keeps her kids her priority in this increasingly hectic world. When you hear about the insane things that happen to children by accident or on purpose, you know how hard it can be to keep the kids in plain sight, let alone tops on our list of important things to take care of. But if not for them, then why? Sure, if you have no kids and no plans, then your motives may be different but BC (before children) the motives may not be quite as solid and fulfilling as they are now.

Man. Kids can be a headache and every day I have to back up and do something again when it comes to them. But when I sit there and watch them exhibiting my and my husband's personality traits, throwing them back at us like little missiles blowing up our theories for how they SHOULD be; when I see their unique ways shine so brightly despite the infusion of our DNA; when I watch the eyes of others as they stand amazed at the mature phrasings that come out of my daughter's mouth or they hear my son sing; when I listen to them fight and make up and fight and declare themselves best friends and fight some more; when I hang their artwork or smell the flowers they give me for no reason at all; when I happily go to work later than most because I have to watch Son get on the bus and take Daughter to the school she loves so much; when I kiss Son goodnight and put Daughter back in her own bed for the 3rd time in the middle of the night, I just can't imagine living this life and doing all I do without these little tormentors around to make it all worthwhile.

I've been told it all goes so fast and I know it's true because I've watched the babies of my church grow up over the past 13 years I've been a member and become adults yet I haven't aged a bit. Mr. T and I stared at Son's recent school picture wondering how he got so grown in that photo but in person he still looks so small. I can't think about the fleeting time though. I have to stay in the here and now, soaking them up for all they are worth. Burning them into my brain forever because it's just too sad sometimes to think that these little people are temporary and I truly won't be living with them for long. One day I won't be able to wrap my arms around them twice and swallow them in my hugs not just because of size but because they probably won't let me for awhile before coming back to a place where it's not embarrassing to be loved by your parents. I'll just enjoy today and remind myself to do it because sometimes I forget. And I'll continue to thank God for making me, as the minister who preached Sunday said, His babysitter. Truly one of the best paying jobs in the world.

Time Warped

May I suggest a new law of physics? The velocity of 24 hours is relative to the location of the object.

Said object - me - can experience every minute of that 24 hours when I am at work for 8 to 10 hours and things are somewhat quiet. Not that it's torture, per se, because I've lived a torturous job and this ain't it. Nevertheless, no matter how much you love your job, for many of us there is just no place like home. And so that time passes so slowly that I swear it goes backward to gain the momentum it needs to keep marching forward. And then when I get home, it is gone in a flash and I must get to bed if I want to have any energy for the next day.

Or vacation. Vacations have a way of excelerating time as well, unless it's a 2-week vacation, then it actually slows down a bit after the first week passes so you come away like you really got some rest.

Well, I'm pretty tired from my job right now. It's a non-stop pace these days - most days - and that's cool. I like to keep moving but I just needed a Sunday when I didn't have to think of going to work on Monday so I took today off. I did email my job ONCE but I wanted to pass on some information. That's all. But it wasn't even the info I needed so I could have gotten fresh numbers but my co-woker said, "Stop working!" So I did. For them.

Instead I spent the day working for myself because my business needs me. With one job needing to be planned, a quote needing to go out and talking to my partner about another job we want to solicit, I needed a day to tend to these things.

I got up at the usual time because the kids must go on and after watching one get on the bus and dropping the other off, I took my car to the mechanic because the front brakes are whispering to me now but I didn't want them to scream at me later. My business partner picked me up from there to go to a meeting with our manufacturer to discuss lowering production costs. Love my manufacturer. He brought in 2 of his guys to think across all aspects of this big job we will do later in the year and as usual, we left with one more new thing to think about adding to our puzzles and a great way to package the ones we have to do for our client.

We left there to go work on the potential client's quote and my partner then brought me home to call one of our artists and email 2 others about the work we need to do. I emailed another manufacturer for another part of the process and had to have the hard talk with the potential web host who we let go before they got going due to too much miscommunication. Our new one will be awesome since I know him so it was a trade up. I took the briefest of naps, was awakened by a phone call from the fired host to plan a wrap-up meeting and by then it was 2:45 people! Son was going to be home in about an hour from then and I'm sitting there wondering where the heck the time went.

Did someone take a little more than they were supposed to? Do you have a portion of my time in your pocket? I could really use it back. But now, Daughter will be home with Mr. T. soon and the madness will really begin. At least I got to get Son off the bus and walk home with him hand-in-hand, help him with his homework in the daylight thus freeing him to goof off and I was even able to blog a little, because I've been really busy with VWE. There was no rushed feeling so Son could tell me about the baseball team he formed today - The Hersheys - who lost their first game the the Red Hots. "They melted us into melted chocolate!" We could sit and watch Criss Angel on Oprah as he got out of a straight jacket in less than half the time it took Houdini. Son could also read his homework book to me about the human body and ask me what marrow was and I didn't feel annoyed at the question just because I had a million of my own thoughts I had to corale first.

I love my job. But how sweet it would be if the business could get to the place where I can stay home and every day could be controlled chaos. A few people on Oprah today - from the snippets I caught as I fixed Bourbon Chicken and french fries for Son - talked about perserverance and that in the moment when you're ready to give up lies sweet success. I hope this year proves to be that turning point for us. Maybe I can think realistically about the possibility of working for myself for good sooner rather than later. I really want my job to be the last place I work for someone else. I'm determined to make that happen no matter how freaky that seems.

I just have to keep trying.

Public Information?

I was talking with a co-worker last week. Her brother had told her he wanted to boycott the media for releasing the video of the Virginia Tech killer. She agreed although she knew it wasn't realistic to expect them NOT to show it. Still, there should be some semblance of decency here where we don't show these things. She talked of Saddam's hanging being publicized. Sensationalism? Probably. She admits she was drawn to her computer to seek this out too. But upon seeing it, she wished she hadn't. I understood her view and I could agree and yet not agree. After all, though the world is full of people with a morbid need to see these things, there are folk like me who truly wanted to hear the voice of this person for themselves to maybe pull some speck of sense out of this senseless tragedy.

Maybe something would be shown that would make me go, "Oh! I think I see where he got off on Insanity Trail and things went horribly wrong." But I can't say that. I heard he was picked on and I assume life was not as good to him as he would have liked. Having gone to college in rural Virginia on the coast opposite Va. Tech, I suspect I've been around the snobby types he dealt with and I can even imagine how he may have felt a little out of place. The school's own 2006/2007 Enrollment Profile showed that out of 21,937 students, over 15,000 of them were white. A little over 1,500 were Asian. There were even fewer African-Americans and Native Anericans. This is the norm at places like this. But this is not to say he had an excuse. This is simply me saying that as big as these numbers look, I know they really don't translate like this face to face. Again, I've been there.

Still, he was clearly troubled by more than the average college student who is at the height of their identity crisis only, ironically, they won't know that until they get OUT of college. People must be curious about what it would take to turn into this person. People are wondering what to look for in the people around them to hopefully protect themselves and maybe even prevent such a thing from happening again. I'm sure it wasn't pleasant to hear this lunatic's rants but it could have been worse. He could have taped the incident somehow and mailed that off. That would surely force me to send my kids to another room but I still don't take away the media's right to have shown this. Somehow it felt necessary. Eight years in a newsroom, and four years before that on my college newspaper, probably embedded that whole free speech and right to know thing.

But then, in the same week, here comes Alec Baldwin and his rant against his 11 or 12-year-old daughter. He called her names I won't repeat because despite the inhumanity of how he spoke to her, this is one time when I think something should not have been made public. This was NOT necessary to disclose. This was not in the interest of public safety but truly was sensationalism, though I think some would disguise their curiosity as being concerned abut the welfare of this child they don't even know the name of. I am hearing him on the news at this very moment as I write this. Whatever is going on between him and Kim Basinger, we did not need to hear this and his daughter? Well apparently she stood him up yet again for a phone call they are supposed to have. From the sounds of it, she's already an angry kid or else mommy is whispering toxic nothings in her ear. Can't say. I don't live in their home. Still, I feel for her. I really doubt she will ever get over her father's words. Not on her own, anyway. If Alec thinks he can apologize the crushed feelings away, I'm here to tell him he is delusional.

But I recognize I don't know this girl and being a parent, I know some kids can truly drive you beyond the brink. Not mine, of course! Still, it just seems unnecessary. And even more unecessary was us having to be let in on that private moment. I'm embarrased for both of them. And I'm embarrased for all of us who had to hear that. It would be great to turn back time and stop that tape from being released. It's hard enough being a parent without worrying about someone exposing us at our worst and then villifying us as if this is how we always are. People without children, please don't tell me how evil he is because I just don't think you know as much as you think you do about the rough waters of parenting.

I can't defend Alec's tirade but I am defending his right to screw up as a parent without public scrutiny. My prayers go out for that girl that this is not the norm for her and that she won't carry on this hurt that has now been planted in her. I just hope that she too won't be the subject of ridicule among her peers and maybe even internalize things to such an extent that she turns into, what? A socially ostracized young adult with homicidal and self-destructive tendencies? Going too far? Naw.

Words are powerful and they can wound a person forever. Just ask Seung-Hui Cho. Oh wait. You can't. He's dead. And he took 32 lives with him.