I'm The Mom, Not Your Entertainment Coordinator

Ahhhh....summer! I remember summer when I was a kid. When I was in 4th grade, we moved to a little town in Northern Indiana. Those years hold the best summer memories for me. We lived across the street from the town park, which held an annual "Summer Fun" program for kids.

Parents could register their kids for free and drop them in the park anytime between 9a-12p, and again from 1p-4p. There was a monthly calendar of events, most of them free or nearly free. There were board games, organized kick ball, art projects like little plaster of paris molds to create and paint the next day. There was a scout cabin in the park, so in extreme heat we'd do activities inside the cabin. And at the end of each day we got a frozen otter pop. The city hired some awesome youth counselors to run this program. Kids had to be school ages - or at least potty trained to be dropped off and the city parks and rec dept took care of the rest. Awesome tax dollars at work.

Next to the park was the public library, so we also had that option and it was like 50 steps from my front door!

During the summer while I was in elementary school, my bedtime was always the same, every night, even in the summer. We had a routine. We still bathed and ate our meals and did our chores according to our "normal" routine. But the thing that made my summers the most fun were these structured daily activities that encouraged good sportsmanship, exercise, creativity, confidence, and the freedom to just be a kid! (Boy, did my mom luck out too!) It wasn't until we became teens that we stayed up too late, binge-ate, and became unproductive slobs, haha.

I've come to learn some kids - in fact MOST kids - thrive when they can operate off of a structured schedule. I've mulled this over and wondered when this shifted in our society. Then I realized it hasn't. My father was born and raised on a farm. While his "play time" wasn't structured, everything else was - when he woke, dressed, ate, chored, -- all of it. Play time was a luxury if you were lucky! I think so many kids today have become so dependent on electronics and constantly being entertained, they don't even really grasp the concept of "playing."

Okay, so where does this long and out-of-hand-supposed-to-be-quick introduction leave us? Well, this is where it leaves me. I have learned that I function better and my kids function better when we have summer schedules. (At least until they become teens with their own social lives and summer jobs.)

I still have one elementary school age kid and for the last 3 summers, I've created daily schedules and planned activities to keep us both sane. We've learned with him that he requires a full 10 hours of sleep. He also takes forever to wind down. So we have get-ready-for-bed time and actual bed time 30 minutes later, knowing he won't be asleep for at least still another 30 minutes. We are giving him a slightly later bedtime this summer, since he's almost 10. We're going to try 9p instead of 8, and 10p on Fridays. I told him we'll see how it affects him the next day and pending his mood we'll either proceed or go back to an hour earlier.

Tips for planning a daily schedule for your child:

1. Figure which tasks you want your child to complete every day regardless of what else goes on. Put those things in the schedule. I want mine to get dressed every day, unless he is sick.

2. Determine what attributes/talent/skill you'd like to encourage your child to develop. Is there a daily habit in which they can engage that will promote this attribute/talent/skill? For us, we want our children to have their own personal relationship with the Lord, so I give them reminders to pray and hold their own private devotional time. Even though school is out, we don't want them to stop reading either, so we have reading time scheduled too. If mine played an instrument, you bet I'd put practice time on the schedule too.

3. Plug in the "constants" - wake up time, meals, bedtime, etc.

4. Are there weekly chores or activities? Scouts, laundry day, piano lessons? etc. Plug those in next.

5. Check your personal calendar. Plug any family events or appointments into your child's schedule.

6. Now - what else can you do for fun??? Check your local community calendars for free movies in the park, new exhibit at the nature center, special discount days for bowling, free library events, local pool or splash pad hours. Is there a chocolate or cheese factory nearby that gives free tours? Join or create a Summer Fun facebook group page for locals. Share some of these events there - coordinate play dates. We do a library day every 2 weeks and on the in between weeks we do a dollar movie, or other fun activity. Plug those in the schedule.

7. Present the schedule in a draft form. Discuss concerns with the child and of course your spouse. Make changes as necessary.

8. Put simple explanations on the schedule for anything out of the ordinary in order to prevent the "WHY? That's not fair?" For example, if I move bedtime early one night, I put a note next to it like You have to get up early tomorrow for camp. 

9.  Only print one week at a time, as things will come up and you want to avoid reprinting if you can.

10. Have a place where both parent and child can review the schedule and check the progress. We use the side of the fridge and a heavy duty magnet clip.

11. It is the child's responsibility to read and check off their schedule each day. If you do an allowance, you could tie their "pay day" into the schedule as well. Let them manage their own schedule, and resist the urge to micromanage. Don't hover! Give them the chance to work their schedule, and just check in with them once or twice a day to see how it's going.

That's it! I will give you a fair warning that you should probably create the schedule when you have nothing else to do that day. Sometimes this process can take several hours. Once you've got the master schedule finished, then tweaking it each Saturday before printing for the following week will be a cinch. I am including a link to week one of my youngest child's summer schedule, just to give you an idea of how we do it. His schedule is pretty intense, but he has ADHD so every scheduled task is worth its weight in gold.

Good luck! Let me know if you give is a try.  {Sample Summer Schedule Week 1 - Printable HERE}

Parenting Plea #427: BAN THE BABY-TALK!

Disclaimer:  I'm not a professional.  I'm just a somewhat-normal, sometimes sarcastic, individual who mostly doesn't understand what goes through some parents' heads when they say or do certain things -- and then I blog about it.

My rant for today:

PLEASE BAN THE BABY-TALK!!!!!

The sequence of how kids learn to speak looks like this:

vowel sounds ---> babbling--->1-2 words--->2-3 word phrases--->sentences--->bigger sentences.

This being said, baby-talk does NOT contribute to the normal, healthy development of baby's language.

Now, before you go and get all offended because perhaps you spoke (or speak) "baby-talk" with your own children, let's define it first.

What is baby talk?  For the purpose of this blog post, I am going to define baby talk as  the made-up, or purposefully mispronounced words (sometimes sounds like a speech impediment when it isn't), often used in high-pitched tones when directed towards babies and children. 

EXAMPLE:
Caregiver, in high-pitched voice:  "Mmmm.  Cookie.  You wike cookie?  Num-nums in tum-tums."

Okay, we all know about onomatopoeias and are probably familiar with "nom-nom-nom" as the noise someone makes while they are eating something pleasurable.  Am I totally against the word "nom" or "num"?  No...not per se.  It's just that "num-nums in tum-tums" is a bit much.

Babies start their venture by mouthing vowel sounds and then repeating certain sounds and syllables (ah-ah-ah to ma-ma-ma-ma, etc.).  This is healthy for babies.  The more we talk to babies, the better they will be able to string certain syllables together and give meaning to them.  For example, if mother repeats, every time daddy comes home, "Daddy's home!  Daddy's home!", then Baby will try to mimic her sounds, often resulting in "Da-da".  The same might be true for "bottle" turning to "bah-bah".  You get the idea.

Baby-talk is detrimental is because babies need to hear REAL words and REAL sentences, using CORRECT PRONUNCIATIONS and CORRECT GRAMMAR because they'll continue to mimic what they hear, and will further develop good language skills if we provide them an environment with positive linguistic opportunities.

How should we talk to babies?  Oh, I'm so glad you asked.  We should talk to infants and toddlers in what scientists and researchers call "Child-Directed Speech".  Like baby-talk, child-directed speech also involves the use of higher-pitched (or soothing) tones.  Unlike true baby-talk, the adult uses simple, but REAL words. (Here's where you can relax if you thought THIS was the "baby-talk" I meant.  This, however, is not true "baby-talk".  The easy way to remember is "baby-talk" is the way BABIES talk!)

Now, imagine the earlier scenario of the caretaker asking if the baby likes the cookie.  In child-directed speech, the sentence would sound something like this:

Caregiver: "Do you like that cookie?  Mmmm.  It's good, isn't it?"

Much better!  Now, for the do's and do not's.

DO - talk to them often, especially right from birth.  Babies' eyes are not yet fully developed and the closer the face-to-face time when talking, the better.

DO - read/tell lots of stories, even before they are old enough to sit up and look at pictures.  Babies LOVE to watch your facial expressions.  They also learn how to perceive various intonations by hearing you tell stories.  It's intonations that give meaning to various words and phrases.

DO - sing to them.  This has the same advantages as talking to them and telling them stories, but also has another benefit.  Sounds in the womb are very rhythmic; likewise, songs are also full of beats and patterns.  This can provide a soothing environment for babies and if the songs are sung or played often, babies will begin to identity certain repeated words or phrases, and will be more likely to mimic them.  (Why I love children's songs!)

DO NOT - rely on the TV/DVDs to teach them language.  In fact, the American Pediatric Association recommends babies not watch TV until they are at least 1 year in age (and then no more than 1 hour a day for ages 2-5 and no more than 2 hours for elementary age children).  TVs don't provide real, live, 3-dimensional experiences.  (I wasn't the greatest at enforcing this one.)

DO - use REAL words and CORRECT grammar when speaking to an infant. This is how they learn words and meanings of words -- words they will need to use in REAL society.

Case in point:  Have you ever had a 2-year-old ask you for something and you had no idea what she was saying because it sounded like a made-up language?  Once, a child in the nursery asked for her babu-bah.  I had no idea what she wanted. I tried everything to console her.  I offered her snacks, a drink, stories, puzzles, toys, etc., but she just kept calling for her babu-bah, finally getting frustrated and resorting to tears.  (The 2-year-old cried too).  When her mom came to pick her up she said, "Oh!  That's what we call her sippy cup."  I remember thinking to myself, "The child is 2.  Why not teach her to say sippy cup?"

DO NOT - use fake words/pronunciation/grammar. (I think we've covered all the reasons why already.  If you still don't get it, you should probably stop reading -- or ask someone in close proximity to slap you upside the head.)

DO NOT - CRITICIZE or DIRECTLY CORRECT if your child uses the wrong word. Instead, repeat the child's statement back to them, modeling the correct words and pronunciations.  For example --

Caregiver: "Do you like that cookie?  Mmmm.  It's good, isn't it?"
Child: (nods) "Me wike tookie. Ez good."
Caregiver:  "Yes.  I like the cookie too.  It IS good!"

Children will hear you modeling correct language and begin to self-correct (unless they have a speech or developmental issue.  But that's for another post.)  

DO NOT - be afraid to use slightly bigger words as the child grows (after they can effectively speak in sentences).  This also adds to their linguistic growth and development.  However, make sure they understand what the new word means, otherwise it's a moot point. For example, "You have to show me you're responsible before we can have pet.  Do you know what the word responsible means?"  And then go on to explain.

If you find yourself offended by this or facing the fact that you, as a caregiver, are a baby-talker, don't worry.  They have professional help for that.

Case in point: There is a little boy in my family who had a regular caregiver constantly talk baby-talk to him (for nearly 6 years).  It's taken almost 2 years (since he started school) to break him of speaking that way, thanks to professional help (teachers & therapists), persistence on the parents' part, and an "intervention" with that specific caregiver in his life. 

I don't understand why some people think kids aren't mature enough to have real conversations with real words. Contrary to their belief, it's not endearing when the child is in school and says that their lunch "taysez goo" and can they "pweeze pway with they fwenz?"  Instead it makes them appear as if they have a speech impediment or are developmentally behind (including social development).

So, do your kids a favor and  STOP THE BABY-TALK!

I Was a Handful (Who Knew, Right?)

I don't know why I thought of this today, but the memory brought a smile to my face, so I figured I'd blog about it.

I am the second of seven children.  One might think when I came along things were still pretty easy for my mom.  Wrong.  I was a colicky baby, only happy if I was held or given a bottle, or better yet -- both!  Although I eventually grew out of the colic, apparently I was a bit of a handful as a toddler.

*Allegedly* I liked to have certain things a certain way (my way) and would cry if they didn't occur in that way.  The phrases, "Go to your room, Emma" and "If you're going to cry, go to bed, Emma" were phrases I heard on a daily, if not hourly basis.  In addition to the whiny-cry-baby terrible two's, I was fidgety.  I couldn't sit still, or be content for very long and from the time I started talking I was an incessant chatter-box.

However, the "difficult" child in me did not stop my mom from having more children right away, nor from having them one after the other. 3 children under age 3 and pregnant.  That is where this memory begins.

I can only imagine the chaos of getting 3 under 3 ready for church in the morning, then once there sitting quietly in our pew.  When I was older and there were 7 kids under 8, people would tell my mother, "Your children are so well-behaved in church."  I used to think, "yeah -- because she's threatened us with our lives." Haha.  But as a 2 year old, I don't really know what people thought or how we acted.  I know I must have been a handful though, because I was allowed to sit with other people.

The Bournes.  The Bournes were a young, married couple that went to our church.  They did not have any children for quite a few years, and for some reason took a liking to me.  I remember turning around in the pew, my eyes searching the congregation for them each Sunday.  As soon as I spotted them, they'd wave for me to come and sit with them.  I would nudge my mother, point in their direction and wait for her approved dismissal, which was always a nod and the whispered admonishment, "fold your arms".  Dutifully, I'd fold my arms and walk as quietly as I could to their bench and sit with them the rest of the service.

Then, there was "Chid".  Sharon Chiddister was a single woman, close to my mom's age whom didn't have children of her own.  Many Sundays she'd sit near my parents and I remember quite often sitting on her lap and her rocking me to sleep.

I don't recall how often those "helpers" in church came to my mother's rescue, but it happened enough for me to remember.  The Bournes eventually had their own children and moved away.  Chid remained in the area, and over the years has always found a family to sit near in church and help with their children.  I remember one family moved in, with 2 small active boys.  Then, the mother was expecting twins.  Chid was there to help out every Sunday.  This was a huge blessing for the wife, because the husband had Sunday duties that required him to sit up on the stand next to the Bishop.  A few years after the twins were born, the wife became pregnant again - with another set of twins.  When I went back home to visit this past summer, I noticed that even though those kids are all teenagers now, Chid still sits with them and she is still like a part of their family, and their dad IS the Bishop now so I am sure she is a great help!

As a teenager, there was a family in our church with 8 kids, whom I babysat quite often. I started babysitting when # 6 was born, and instantly fell in love with that baby.  We sat behind them every Sunday at church, and I always held him or let him sit by me until I went off to college when he was about 4.  Truth be told, I didn't even realize he was a handful, until his mother said something to me a few years later, about how she was always grateful for me helping her out on Sundays because he was such a handful.

In church now I lead the music on Sundays.  I sit up near the organ and I can look out into the congregation and see who's sleeping (haha), which babies are crying, which children are acting up and which mothers are struggling. I do notice a few childless couples or families with teenagers sitting near families with smaller children and offering their help whenever possible.  I can always tell that the mothers are grateful too.  But, I've also seen a few others in the congregation shoot disapproving looks towards some mothers - as if to say, "Get your kids under control!"  I was thinking this past Sunday when I saw one woman give such a glare, wondering if anyone ever thought that about my mom while I was being "out of control"?  Made me grateful to those "Angels among us" who offered to sit near us and help out where they noticed a need.  That is true Christianity right there, and of all places we should be living and carrying out our religious beliefs, you'd think one place would be church, right?

We don't know what always goes on behind closed doors, and although *WE* may think we know how this mother or that mother should discipline her children during church, and while we wish she could keep her kids "under control", don't you think that idea hasn't already crossed her mind too? I mean no mother in her right mind WANTS her child to act up and make a scene, right?

My kids are older now and aside of the occasional elbow-to-the-ribs or whispering or giggling with each other, they can pretty much manage themselves at church.  Because I lead the music and sit up near the organ, and because I am a single parent, they sit up there next to me each Sunday.  At first they were not thrilled with the idea, though I think they are okay with it now.  I have decided through this experience, that when the time comes that I am not sitting up there leading the music, perhaps I can find a young mom with her hands full to sit near and be a "Bourne" or a "Chid"-- pay it forward or something like that.  

Oh -- and for being such a "difficult" child, I think I turned out pretty well, if I do say so myself!  :)

Christmas Traditions, Part Two

I've already mentioned the traditions my Mom made part of our Christmases growing up (see {{HERE}} if you missed it).  So, today, I am going to share the traditions from my father's side.

If you've read any of my blog posts over the last few years, you already know my father was raised Amish.  In fact, you probably get sick of me saying it over and over and over.  But it was part of my upbringing, so not really easy to ignore.  Well, one thing that is fairly typical in Amish communities is that they have large families.  My father's family would be about average, by comparison.  My grandparents "only" had 7 children.  And I think, if I am counting right (although, I may have lost count), there are about 40 grandchildren.  That is a lot of family to plan Christmas for, especially when it comes to coordinating schedules.  It would've also been an imposition on many of the families to purchase gifts for each other.  So, this is how we did Christmas on the Miller side.

My grandparents and each of the siblings would take turns "hosting" the Family Christmas gathering each year.  Sometimes, the family party was in their home, sometimes a family cabin, or the town scout cabin, or the basement of a local church; just depending on who was in charge that year and where they chose to host it.  Typically, the party was held on a Saturday, although once in a while a Sunday afternoon.  We'd usually begin gathering in around 11am.  The hosts would prepare the main dish and everyone else would bring a few potluck items.  Also, everyone would bring homemade treats for the "treat table" (always a hit with the kids!). We would snack until the food was ready and then stuff ourselves full.

Then, as typical with Amish culture, the men would mix and mingle together in one area while the women and children in another.  Stories were often swapped, and tons of laughter would ensue.  Then, my grandmother would beckon us all together, usually in a large circle and she'd hand out Christmas Carol books.  And we pretty much sang the carols from cover to cover.  She also loved for the grandchildren to come together to sing the 12 Days of Christmas, complete with actions.  (Yes -- I still know all of the actions, too.)  I remember one year, when I turned 11, she gave me my own carol book for Christmas.  I still have it and love it.

After the carols, we'd continue snacking and chit-chatting and the host would usually serve coffee and homemade herbal tea.  My grandmother would always have a little gift for the Aunts and my Grandfather often had a little something for the Uncles. The rest of the afternoon often included things like playing games, skits, pranks, my Uncle playing his Hammered Dulcimer and more chit chat.  Sometimes, the left-overs were reheated and we'd have supper before heading back to our respective homes.

Now, when my own parents and siblings get together for our Annual Miller Christmas Party, we incorporate a few of those traditions too.  We always have a candy/treat table.  The host/hostess always plans the main dish and the rest of us bring potluck items.  After we eat and do gifts, often times we bring out our own carol books and sing along.  And if my sister can talk them into it-- some of the kids will "perform" the 12 Days of Christmas.  Sometimes we have little skits or pranks, and sometimes they want us to do a mini-talent show.  We usually spend the rest of the day playing games and chit-chatting and if we stay long enough, then will will reheat leftovers for dinner or order take out.  :)

Thanks Dad, for having an awesome family that passed on some of their traditions to us!

Christmas Traditions, Part One

When I was little I loved Christmas for many, many reasons.  As I mentioned {{HERE}} we only received one gift each year.  Suffice it to say, that while I cherished that one gift each year, that wasn't the reason I loved Christmas.  Looking back, it's the things we did as a family -- the traditions my mother incorporated into our Christmas that made me look forward to that magical time of year each year.  Some of the traditions were traditions from her childhood and others were ones she and my dad started with us.  (And while I'm sure my dad had a hand in some of the traditions, I mostly mention my mom here because she was more the "enthusiast" about them.  Dad did best to smile and nod and let her have her way, hehe.)

In no particular order, they included...

The wake-up contest.  When we were really little my mom used to wake us up on Christmas morning by playing her Christmas records.  Then after we got an organ, she used to play Christmas songs on the organ.  (Which, by the way, is not my favorite thing to wake up to at 5:30 in the morning, haha.)  As we began to get a little older and a little more anxious about waking up early, she told us when she was little, she and my Uncle Jim used to wake up before their parents and jump on their bed yelling, "Merry Christmas!"  Well, that sure sounded like fun to us.  So, it became a contest.  If Mom woke up before we did, then she got to play her Christmas music.  If we woke up first, then we would commence with the jumping on the bed routine.  My Dad did set the rule, however, that no one was allowed up before 5:30am.  (I guess he wanted to "sleep in" a little.)  Since the contest began, I think the kids "won" just about every year.  Usually the oldest sibling, Naomi, would wake up way before 5am, and get the rest of us up.  Then we'd wait patiently on the stairs until  about 5:29, sneak into my parents' room and began our jovial hails.  Although, looking back, I'm willing to bet that my parents were already awake, laying there, waiting for us to come in and "win".  :)

Christmas Waffles.  One year my mom received a waffle iron for Christmas, and this wasn't some rinky-dinky little waffle iron either.  This was a very nice, very large waffle iron, that made LARGE waffles.  We had nice, fluffy waffles for breakfast and thus began the tradition of fluffy waffles every Christmas morning since.

Boiled Custard. Just about every other year, we'd pile into the van and make the 10-hour journey down to Paris, Tennessee and visit with Grandpa Ray & Grandma June, as well as our FAVORITEST Aunt EVER - Aunt Glenda and her hubby, Uncle Wayne.  They lived next door to each other, which always made it fun.  The "older girls" (which included me) would get to sleep over at Aunt Glenda's house while Mom, Dad and the "little kids" stayed with Grandma & Grandpa.  Aunt Glenda was (and still is) a riot.  She would tell us the crazy stories of her life, take us "after-Christmas" shopping, teach us new crafts, and she made the best candy!  I can almost taste her famous fudge, nut logs, and cinnamon crackle candy just writing this!  Mmmm-Hmmm!  One thing she introduced us to was Boiled Custard.  (Or if you're from the south, it's pronounced "bowl'd custard", tee hee.)  Anyway -- it's a drink and can either be served warm or cold.  To me, it's waaaaay better than egg nog.  You can buy it down there during the holidays in the dairy case, or you can make your own.  We love it so much that my mom got the recipe and began making it every year for us too.  Now, I make it for my kids.  :)

Youngest-to-Oldest.  Because the youngest usually have the hardest time with patience in opening their gifts, my parents have always had us open our gifts, starting with the youngest child, in turn, making our way to the oldest and then my parents took their turn.  A few times we mixed it up and went from oldest to youngest, but for the most part, that has been our tradition.  Even now, at the Annual Miller Family Christmas Party, gift opening begins with the youngest.  This is a tradition I've passed on to my kids as well.

Gingerbread Houses.  The last town we moved to growing up had a well-known Amish style Restaurant, "Das Dutchman Essenhaus".  It still exists, and it's still just as tasty.  It's a definite tourist attraction and I think I was in about 4th grade when they decided to expand their operation to include a candy shop, a toy store, a bakery, an inn and a Bed & Breakfast.  For the holidays the bakery would host a Gingerbread house contest, open to the public.  There were various categories, including "edible" and "non edible" for all sorts of age groups.  My mother decided that we would each make our own gingerbread house and enter it.  The first year we each did simple square houses.  It was fun and cute and because there were 7 of us kids, we had a better chance of having a winner among us.  (Not to mention, there weren't many kids who entered.)  Over the years, our entries became a little more elaborate - including farms, 2-story houses, and one year even an igloo.  Even though it made a huge mess in the kitchen, and even though it probably took a lot of time for my mom to draw the templates, then bake the "wall"s and then help us put them together, it was something we did every year - all 9 of us.

Decorations.  My mom would always haul the boxes from the basement the first of December and transform our living and dining rooms into a Christmas Showcase.  She had sooo many Christmas nick-knacks and paddy-whacks, it was impressive.  Many of them were items from her own childhood.  My favorite is the kissing Mr & Mrs Claus (which has since been passed on to me!).

Christmas Eve.  My mother would gather us around every Christmas Eve and read the Christmas story from the Bible.  I remember laying on the floor in the living room, in my pj's, listening to her read.  I didn't even always understand the words, but I knew the gist of it, and it was something I looked forward to every year.  This is something I have also incorporated into my own Christmases with my kids.

Movies and Sledding. Because we didn't live very close to my mom's side of the family, and because my dad's family was so big that we had a separate family Christmas party on another day, it was usually just the 9 of us on Christmas Day.  As some of us began to get a little older and become teenagers, my mom discovered that the Movie theaters were open on Christmas Day. So, after opening the gifts and eating our waffles, if there was snow on the ground, she'd take us to the nearest sledding hill and we'd play for a few hours.  But if there wasn't any snow, she'd take us to the movies.  It was fun, because we'd stuff our pockets with the candy from our stockings and we were usually the only ones in the entire theater.  While I loved sledding and making snowmen, I'm not gonna lie -- I used to secretly wish for no snow just so we could go to the movies.  After I had my own children, I used to take them to the movies on Christmas Day.  However, over the last decade or so, it seems that everyone else has caught on, and now Christmas Day is crowded.

There were other things that we could always count on around Christmas time.  My mother would get out her Christmas records and play them all month long. We would gather around the TV as a family and watch "Miracle on 34th Street" and "It's a Wonderful Life".  She would hang the Christmas Cards we received in the mail - usually around the archway from the living room to the dining room - for all to see.  We had mistletoe and loved to catch visitors underneath.  She always filled our stockings with an orange, a candy cane, other candy and a small gift or toy.   I am sure I am probably forgetting a tradition or two -- but these are the ones I remember the most, and these are the ones I have the fondest memories of.

Thanks Mom, for making sure we had Christmas Traditions and that our Christmases were extra special!

Christmas Crazy!

So, it sort of went down like this.

I wasn't sure that I'd be able to give my kids much of a Christmas this year. I was stressed. I was worried. I had gotten them a few things throughout the year, like a $10 pair of jeans from Gap when they had their back-to-school sales or a pair of $7 shoes from the outlet mall on black Friday. Then there were a few books I had found for 50% off at last years book fair and the PJ's I found at the Old Navy Outlet for $7 a few months back. So, I did have a few things. But we're talking very few things.

I had received a few things from others to help fill the gaps. It was a huge burden lifted. And yet, I still felt like I was providing a very inadequate Christmas for my kids. I know that isn't the real meaning of Christmas. I know that my kids are not the selfish type and that they will be grateful for anything I give to them.

But as a single mom whom rarely has extra cash, it seems like we do without so much the entire year. The one time I want it to be special and to give a little more is now; at the holidays.

So, here it was, 2 days before Christmas and I received a child support check I wasn't expecting. We're not talking thousands of dollars here, or even half that amount. But it was a little extra and I wanted to get some nice things for my kids. I got off work early and from 1:30pm - 10:30pm I went Christmas Shopping.

Let me brief you with a little history. I am the type of person that is usually done with Christmas shopping even before Thanksgiving. I am the type of person that has everything wrapped when the tree goes up the day after Thanksgiving. And I don't do these things because I am extremely organized or anal or anything like that. (Well, perhaps a little.) I do these things because I am the type of person that has anxiety at times. I am the type of person who doesn't care for large crowds, driving through the snow late at night, feeling the pressure of looking for that perfect item which is sold out because it is on everybody else's Christmas list too. These things give me stress and trigger anxiety. So, I avoid them like the Plague.

But this year, I had no choice. I just didn't have the money until yesterday; until two days before Christmas. I went to Target. I went to Kohl's. I went to Hobby Lobby. I tried to get as much as I could without having to go to you-know-where. Yes, my dear readers, I tried to avoid going to Wal-Mart.

It's not that I hate Wal-Mart. I just hate Wal-Mart when there are tons of crazy people pushing and shoving and rummaging and making a mess and hogging up the aisles, and not being friendly. (Which is why I also avoid it on Saturdays too.) However, my efforts - as good as they were, were to no avail. I had to go to Wal-Mart.

I had a list, I checked it twice. It still did not seem like enough. I tried to mentally go over the items tucked away in my closet at home and I could barely recall a thing. And the things I did recall seemed a bit lame. It was loud. There were kids riding the display bikes up and down the aisles. There was a woman chewing her husband out for waiting until the last minute to pick something out for his mother. There was a man complaining to his wife that she was going over budget and "did the kids really need that?" I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. I started to feel the cerebral arteries throb from behind my eye sockets. I started to feel sweaty and clammy all at the same time. My chest felt tight and my heart was palpitating a bit stronger with each tick of the clock. I was suffocating in my own anxiety.

I told myself to knock it off. I told myself it's no big deal. Then I freaked out and asked myself, "But will it be enough? Will they like it? I don't even know what the heck I am looking for!" And yes, dear readers. I told myself these things OUT.LOUD. I had become one of those Wal-Mart Crazies!

I found an empty aisle near the automotive section. I pulled my cart in, leaned against the handle and started to rub my temples. A young kid, barely 18 years old looking, came down the aisle about a minute later with a push broom. I began to move my cart, asking if I was in his way. He replied no, and asked if I needed any help with anything. I confessed, and like a big girl, I didn't even cry. Nope. I was able to hold it together as I said, "I'm having a bit of a panic... I can't remember a thing I have for my boys and I fear it's all quite lame. I want to get something cool for them; something they will think is totally awesome." I and did. After all, I think a kid should feel excited about his main Christmas gift.

The boy with the broom set it off to the side and said, "Well, let's go see what we can find." And within about 10 minutes I had something for each of my boys that was guaranteed to be a winner. And, I didn't have to spend nearly as much as I thought! The Super-WalMart Broom Boy was my Super Hero that night. Or at least in part.

As I made my way to the check out stands, I'm not gonna lie. I had my own stroke of genius too. I looked at my cart and I thought about the stuff I had waiting in the car and at home in my closet and realized I still had hours of wrapping that lie ahead. I made a beeline over to the Christmas Aisle and bought bundles of gift bags and gift boxes. Normally, spending $18 on gift boxes would seem asinine to me. But, this was my sanity we're talking here. I think my sanity is worth a mere $18.

By the time I got home and unloaded my car and unpacked it all into the living room, it was midnight. I took my shoes off and propped my feet up and began an online conversation with a friend of mine from Idaho. Chatting while wrapping seemed to helped the time pass. He finally bailed out around 3:30 in the morning. And guess what? Well, this little anxiety problem of mine? Yeah, I sorta passed it on to a few of my kids.

LittleDuckling couldn't sleep. He continued to come upstairs and ask if I was still wrapping. He asked if I needed help. I knew that he was so excited to see I had come home with multiple shopping bags that his anxiety was getting the best of him. I threw a blanket over his gifts and allowed him to come in and help me "wrap" things up, so to speak. We finished by about 5:30 this morning.

I realize I probably could have waited until morning to start. And I realize that this probably doesn't make much sense unless, you - like me, have issues with anxiety too.

But the good thing is, now I can breathe. And I will be able to sleep tonight, this Christmas Eve and feel joy that I was able to give Christmas to my children.

From my family to yours... Merry Christmas!

Something You May Not Know

When I was a kid, I didn't like my name. I actually had a hard time with my name until I was an adult -- just a few years ago.


Why didn't I like it? Because my name was "Different". Do you know how many times I wished I were an Amy or a Jennifer? Why couldn't I be a Heather or a Kelly? Perhaps an Angie or a Julie? In any grade of any year during my elementary school years these were common names in multiples. In fact, in my afternoon Kindergarten class at Concord Oxbow there were 3 Kelly's. Yep, Kelly Row, Kelly Webster and Kelly Koolidgeschmidt. During High School my group of friends had 3 Julies. There were so many common names, but not one person I knew was named Emma. Or at least not in my "decade."


My great Aunt's name was Emma. But, she was "old". I had heard of an actress named Emma Thompson, but she wasn't in any of the kid's movies I'd seen. I remember when adults would ask me my name and I'd say "Emma", the most common response I'd ever get was "My grandmother's name was Emma!" Great, I used to think. I have an old lady's name.


When I was around age 14 a lady at church was pregnant, and told me that she and her husband considered the name Emma for their baby. But then they opted for Emily. I remember thinking, WHY would they choose EMMA? When I was a senior in High School Kindergarten Cop came out. There was a little girl character named Emma. I thought, "Wha-???" But that movie must have been the catalyst to bring that name back. Because that year, it seemed like babies were being named Emma left and right. Even my cousin named their baby Emma.


For nearly 20 years the name Emma has been near the tops of the popular baby name list. I remember when I was 19 and pregnant, someone asked me if I had a girl if I would name her Emma. Immediately I said, "no", and then someone close to me said, "Good. I don't really like that name." Even though I was embarrassed by my name, it really hurt to have this person say this to me. But, I continued to feel that my name must not be a good name.


But then, a few years ago, I had a close friend tell me all the time how much he loved my name. And Big-D would tell me that he liked my name too. This actually made me feel quite a bit better about my name. And during the course of the last 2 1/2 years (since being divorced) I have realized that I actually *do* like my name.


It's true, it might be a "different" name for people of MY generation. But let's face it, I am different from others of MY generation. And I don't just like my name because it's "in" all of a sudden. I think I grew to like it, because I grew to finally like me... love me, actually.


There has been a lot of trials and challenges and moments of discovery and clarity about who I am. To reflect upon the things I have endured is actually quite empowering. To ponder the discoveries I have found about myself is quite exciting. To finally feel like "me" in my own skin is quite refreshing. And to finally love my name is...fulfilling.


And I do love my name now, because I love me. If I were having a baby girl and someone asked me today if I'd give her my name...I just might say "yes"... at least for a middle name.


Oh - and just don't call me "Em" without prior written authorization :) That nickname is only reserved for certain men I am endeared towards... and a very few close friends :)

Collection: Piggy Banks

I admit, I sorta have a thing for piggy banks. Many times at the store I will see a really awesome looking one. I never buy any, because, quite frankly I just can't justify it. I don't really collect anything. I don't know that I really ever did as a kid either. But if I were a collector, piggy banks just might be my thing.

And for clarification, I will just say right now, that when I say "piggy" bank, I actually just mean "coin bank" -- since not all cute coin banks are a "piggy". But, I guess it's because we grew up calling them piggy banks, that is still what I call them. My mom bought each of us a piggy bank and there were times when she had acquired excess change over time, she would say, "run and get your piggy banks". We'd gather 'round the kitchen table like little paupers waiting as she counted out her change and divided it seven ways. (Not an easy thing to do, by the way.)

I don't really know whatever happened to my piggy bank growing up. I don't really remember getting rid of it... maybe it went away to the "country" to live a happier life. haha! Anyway, it was a cute little mouse and if I remember correctly, it had an orange outfit on. We're talking Circa 1973 here. I don't remember what my other siblings banks were, but I do remember my brother Sam having an Uncle Sam bank. I also remember that my mom had a copper piggy bank (like the one above) that sat up on a high shelf. This piggy bank contained special coins like the Eisenhower Dollar Coin (which was HUGE), the Kennedy Half Dollar, and the Susan B Anthony Dollar. I was given my "share" of the coins when I became an adult. I still have them, along with many other coins. (Although I am not a "coin collector" in the usual sense, I guess I **do** like collecting different types of coins.)

Anyway, recently I ran across a really cool piggy bank online, and like a shiny bright light, it stole my attention, and the next thing I know, I'm on an internet search for unusual coin banks. Here is what I found:


The next four are my fav's from my little search... If I had money and were a collector, these would definitely be in my collection :)

And finally, I ran across this and thought it was totally hilarious!

What about you? Did you have an interesting piggy bank growing up?

Countdown to Mother's Day with: A Friend in Jesus

When we lived in our single-wide trailer, it was out in Amish country about 20 miles from the next city. The piece of land my father bought from my grandfather was nestled between Amish farms belonging to my Grandparents and one of my father’s uncles. I lived there since the day I came home from the hospital until I was nearly four. Being in the country, and being too young to attend school it wasn’t like I had any friends, per se, other than the other toddlers I played with in the nursery at church.

As a three-year old, the concept of “friends” was a foreign one to me. I remember when my older sister, Naomi, started going to her Primary “Sunbeam” class at church. All of a sudden she started talking about this “friend” and that “friend”. This sounded like fun and I didn’t really know what friends did! I just knew I wanted some. That Fall, they were even planning a Primary Halloween party, and she would get to dress up with her new friends too!

I remember one afternoon crying on the sofa in the living room. I don’t even know what started the emotions, although, as an overly emotional child, I will admit it didn’t really ever take much to get me going. Well, soon enough, along came my mother, and she asked me why I was crying. I told her that I was sad because I did not have any friends. Then my mom said that she had a secret to tell me.

Well, I don’t know if I really understood what a secret was back then, however it sounded intriguing. I remember I stopped crying enough to give her my attention. My mother told me that she knew someone who would always be my friend. I was shocked. I quickly begged her to know the name of this person who would always be my friend. Then she said, “Jesus is your friend, and He will always be your friend, no matter what you are doing or where you are.”

Well now, I don’t know about you, but I liked the sound of that. It didn’t matter to me that I couldn’t see Jesus. I had an imagination, after all. I just needed to know that He was there and that He was my friend. Some people have imaginary friends. Not me. I was lucky. I was special. I had Jesus.

Jesus came to some of my tea parties. Jesus helped me play with my dollies. Jesus even talked to me while playing outside on the swing set. I remember once, while swinging, I was singing a song I had learned in church. Of course, Jesus had wanted me to sing louder. And of course I obliged. Soon, Great Aunt Wilma came over to the fence from hanging her wash. She complimented my singing. Then she made some comment about me and my “special friend”. I remember being shocked that she knew about Jesus playing with me!

“You can see JESUS?” I gasped.

Aunt Wilma whooped and hollered before replying, “I heard you two talking just a bit ago.”

I remember feeling a little embarrassed that she had just discovered I had been make-believe playing with Jesus. I liked Aunt Wilma; a lot. She had this smile that could warm a room, not to mention the fact that we had quite a few chats over that fence post, mostly resulting in her bringing me a cookie a time or two as well. Years later I had always wondered what she thought about the odd child who played and sang to Jesus on the swing set. I guess I sort of missed the point a little when my mother told me I had a friend in Jesus.

Nevertheless, I am grateful that at a young age this knowledge brought me as much comfort as it did. As much as I learned to love and respect my Savior, knowing that He is also my friend has helped me be able to feel that much closer to Him.

I am grateful my mother taught me that I have a friend in Jesus.

Countdown to Mother's Day with Discipline

Today is more Slacker Mom stuff... If you didn't see {yesterday's} post, check it out and get caught up.

Here is what Author Muffy Mead-Ferro has to say about discipline in her book, "Confessions of a Slacker Mom."

On Natural Consequences:

"As a slacker mom, I am very fond of "natural consequences" when it comes to punishments. If Joe decides to eat a family pack of Cheetos, I think vomiting is a fit penalty. My jumping up and getting mad, and doling out my own form of punishment would simply be redundant. So, I can just stay right where I am with my lovely cup of tea... aaah.

"My mother certainly didn't overwork herself in that regard. Right before my 5th grade pictures were taken, I decided to give myself a makeover and trimmed up the bangs and sides of my curly hair with my dad's shaving razor... I resembled a poodle. Do you think my mom got mad at me? No. She just sat there and looked at me for a moment, then turned back to her book in an effort not to laugh loudly. Not only did she not scold me, but she didn't run me over to the beauty salon in town to see if anything could be salvaged, the slacker. But I didn't need a lecture from her to wish...I hadn't done that two days before they took my class photo." (100-101)

I don't know that I'd rush right off to the salon either... but I would definitely see if there was a "retake" date! hahaha!

Muffy doesn't say that she never gets mad or that you should only rely on natural consequences (like if a child runs into traffic). She believes that sometimes getting mad IS effective! Check this out!!!

On Empty Threats and Getting Mad:

"Two hours into [the car ride] they start provoking each other with an efficiency that can only be achieved by blood relations. Grabbing the bag of pretzels, then wagging it out of reach. Then kicking, hitting, and hair pulling. Followed by screeching and screaming. ...nothing I had to say slowed the escalation of the conflict. Finally, I'd had it... I pulled the car off the road, which was a big surprise to them, and came to an abrupt stop. They were already silenced by the troubling turn of events. But they were even more alarmed when I turned and spanked both of them sharply on their thighs (I couldn't reach their behinds), and yelled that if they didn't stop fighting in the car, we would turn right around and go home!

"My kids were smart enough to know that I wouldn't make good on that threat. We were 120 miles up the road. I am aware that the parenting books number one no-no is making threats that you can't or won't follow through on. But the empty threat didn't diminish my words or actions one iota. The point was, I was spitting mad. I was mad enough to pull off the road and stop the car. Mad enough to haul off and whack them, and then yell at them with a wide-eyed look on my face. They didn't like that at all...and behaved like model citizens for the next 100 miles. ...Belle and Joe understood when I pulled the car off the road that one of the consequences of bad behavior is that it tends to make other people irate. (103-104)

Sorry - but I had to laugh at that last one. I think many of us who grew up with siblings and took road trips often can probably identify with the whole, "Do you want me to pull this car over?" or the "If you don't knock it off, I'm gonna turn this car around!"

It also made me Laugh Out Loud to read that, partly because I know there has been a time or two (or three) in which I have lost my temper and had the "wide-eyed" crazed look on my face. It is a great stress-reliever to know I wasn't alone.

Also - I know I have posted about this before, but in addition to "natural consequences" when "available", I also believe in "immediate" consequences for the most part. I don't do groundings, because, that means MORE responsibility for ME to remember who is grounded from what and for how long, and I am just too lazy for all of that, because, let's face it -- I'm a Slacker Mom! hahaha!

I did have a "corner-stander" child. It was the only thing that saved my sanity {and his life}, although, one time I forgot he was still there by the time it was bed time. I have another child who is a "you have every right to your feelings and anger and emotions; just go have them in your room" type of child. But as they get older, I find I am more the "I am disappointed in you..." speech-giver and the "now you get to do an extra chore" hander-outer. But, again, it has to be immediate, cuz I do NOT want to have to write it down or, for gosh sake's, remember it! Hahahaha!

What sort of Slacker Mom are YOU when it comes to discipline?

Works Cited:
Mead-Ferro, Muffy. Confessions of a Slacker Mom. Cambridge, MA: Da Capo Lifelong Books, 2004. Print.

Countdown to Mother's Day with Slacker Moms

Recently, I took my kids out for burgers, fries, and conversation. I had some things I wanted to talk about. Sometimes, family night is great for this. Sometimes, having a formal meeting at home is perfect... and sometimes, well, you just need a change of scenery. Plus, there might be less chance for bickering with their mouths full and in a public setting. It had been a long week of finals, and I needed all the "back-up" I could get at that point. Anyway... here is the gist of what I told them.

I am a Slacker Mom. I admit it. I am not Perfectly-Perfect like some of those other moms. I am sure that there are many perfectly-perfect moms that get up like an hour before her children to cook them a hot breakfast AND shower AND throw a load in the wash AND pack them each a healthy and nutritious lunch all before sending her children off to school. Not me. Why? Because I am a slacker mom. I am sure there are some perfectly-perfect moms that clean up their kids' rooms for them while they are at school, AND wash all of their kids' clothes, not to mention iron them and put them away neatly. Not me. Why? I am a slacker mom, that's why. I'm sure there are perfectly-perfect moms that cook a full-course-from-scratch dinner every night, making sure to hit all the 4 food groups. Not me... cuz I'm a slacker mom. And I am sure there are perfectly-perfect moms that give their kids allowance *if* they do pitch in and help. Not me. Cuz, once again, I am a slacker mom.

Then I said to them, "Why am I a slacker mom?"...[dramatic pause, while they looked a wee bit frightened of my just-gone-off-the-deep-end antics]... "Because I LOVE YOU!" I proclaimed. "I want you to grow up learning how to be responsible for your own belongings, how to at least prepare basic foods, like grilled cheese, toast, eggs, etc. I want you to appreciate earning your own money, and learning to earn your own privileges. I am a Slacker Mom for YOU!"

I couldn't tell if they were impressed or concerned or uninterested. I then went on with some key points of some talks I had heard recently, and explained to them what my expectations of them were. And then the onion rings came.

This whole being a "Slacker Mom" has sort of been a refreshing thing for me lately. With school, work, raising 3 kids, household duties and making a half-attempt at a social life, I can sometimes get discouraged about all the things I am NOT, and about all of the things I do NOT do and do NOT have. Then, I came across this book in the library:

Okay - Can I just say that I HIGHLY recommend this book? The Author, Muffy Mead-Ferro has taken on the world of perfectly-perfect moms and poked holes in many of their practices and theories, plus she's way cool. The book took me just under 2 hours to read, cuz it's only like 137 pages, cuz she's like too much of a slacker to write anything bigger! hahaha!

I loved the book so much, and wanted to share just a few tidbits with you today, if you'll indulge me for a few minutes more... Who knows? You just may find out that YOU'RE a Slacker Mom Too!

First of all Muffy states that she knows not all of us moms out here will agree with her parenting theologies or ideals. And to that she says, "GOOD!" She doesn't want people to follow her parenting style to a tee. That would go against everything she stands for. It is her hope that parents, moms especially will stop following the "herd" when it comes to all of the "perfect parenting" techniques out there and get back to what feels "right", your Mother's intuition, and back to simplicity. This is what I love about her.

On germs:

"We are designed not only to be exposed to germs, but to actually contract illnesses from them. It's one of the most important ways we manufacture antibodies so we can fight off more serious diseases later on. I'm not trying to sound like an authority myself, I'm actually quoting our pediatrician. That's one reason I've never gone overboard in keeping our house free of dirt. Not lazy, then. Just trying to follow our pediatrician's advice and expose Belle and Joe to their allotment of germs." (54-55)

On indulging your kids with "everything":

"If you do have the money, it's tempting to want to provide your kids with lots of their own space and lots of their own stuff...A place where they each have their own room, of course. They each have their own bathroom. They'll each need their own TV in their own room, too, so they don't have to watch anybody else's show. Keep up, now. They must have their own computer. Otherwise they can't do their homework because sharing makes it horribly inconvenient. And, if they're going to have any kind of social life, they've each got to have their own car, so they can come and go without the bother of coordinating schedules with anyone else. They can't talk to their friends, not really, if they don't each have their own phone and their own number to go along with it. And speaking of privacy, they'll each need their own credit card so they don't have to ask me to buy something for them and then have me wreck their plans by saying. 'No.'" (90-91)

On Meal Time:

"Have you ever found yourself making one thing for the adults for dinner, one thing for one kid, and another thing for another kid? Did that make you feel like you were the bestest mom in the world, or like me, did you stop and wonder if you accidentally handed out menus at the beginning of the meal?... That's not the outlook I want my kids to have, where everything is customized for them and things have to be done their way...I've finally ridded my cupboards of all those one-person items, and we've managed to create a more communal, family-oriented existence. One where my kids eat what's prepared for the family, or don't eat." (92)

Personal Note: I actually used to do this. The spouse had to have a certain staple at every meal, which I was not a fan of, and my oldest son was "picky". So, I made a meal for spouse, one for son, and then one for me. Finally, I realized that *I* was the one enabling the picky eater. So, I stopped. From then on, it was one meal. And soon, my oldest learned to eat other things, and he didn't go hungry (at least not too much - hehe) and he didn't starve and he wasn't malnourished and he lived.

So that was a little glimpse of THE Slacker Mom! Whaddya think? Are you a slacker mom too?

Stay tuned -- tomorrow we'll be discussing how to Discipline like a Slacker Mom. Totally cool!

Works Cited:

Mead-Ferro, Muffy. Confessions of a Slacker Mom. Cambridge, MA: Da Capo Lifelong Books, 2004. Print.

Sunday Sentiments: A Child's Prayer

There is nothing more precious than when a child learns to pray. Everytime the children at church sing this song, I get choked up...



Heavenly Father, are you really there?
And do you hear and answer every child's prayer?
Some say that Heaven is far away,
but I feel it close around me as I pray.

Heavenly Father, I remember now
something Jesus told disciples long ago,
"Suffer the children to come to me."
Father in prayer I'm coming now to Thee.

Pray, He is there.
Speak, He is listening.
You are His child;
His love now surrounds you.

He hears your prayer.
He loves the children.
Of such is the Kingdom,
The Kingdom of Heaven.

by Janice Kapp Perry

If anyone is interested,you can download the free sheet music {HERE}.

Motheronomy

There are times in my life as a Mother I want to revert to the old adage, "Because I am the Mother, and I said so!" To a child who lacks rational thinking, this makes no sense. On the contrary, to every Mother in the world this makes perfectly good sense. How do you explain to your child "Mother's Intuition"??? Sometimes, my kids will try to press an issue in an attempt to weaken me and get me to go from a "No" to a "We'll See". To them "We'll See" basically means a "Yes". Most of the time my "no" is a "no" because there is a really good reason for it. The problem is they don't often hear just a plain old "no" because I LIKE being a "yes" mom.

In the book, "Glimpses into the Life and Heart of Marjorie Pay Hinckley" by Virginia H. Pearce . Marjorie was quoted as saying, "whenever possible say yes, they are only kids once!"

I took this challenge to heart. I WANT my kids to enjoy their childhood in spite of tough times. This doesn't mean my children get out of responsibilities or can manipulate me into getting what they want. It just means that if they propose something that doesn't quite fit my circumstance or wishes, I try to help them figure out a way to make it work. I try to see if there is a way we CAN say yes. Instead of "No you can't have friends over to play games and have pizza because the house is a mess and I don't have money for pizza" it's more like, "Well, you can have friends over IF you clean up the house and then ask all of your friends to each bring a snack to share" type of thing. I hope this is making sense. Anyway, I guess it is what my Communication Professor would call a Collaborative Style of Conflict Management; wherein both parties collaborate to “foster a win-win climate”.

Ok... That being said (sorry, this is taking longer to explain than I thought)... my son thinks I should let him go Sky Diving for his 16th birthday. SKY DIVING!!! I've read the statistics. I've read how "safe" it is and so on and so forth. Yet, I just can't bring myself to agree. My answer has remained steadfastly a resounding "no." When I won't budge and my kids won't budge, I often find it time to try to get them to see things from my perspective. I guess it makes me feel less harsh? Anyway, this is usually when I begin to quote from the Book of Motheronomy.

The Book of Motheronomy is not a book which you will find in any Bible, Torah, Buddha-Dharma, Book of Mormon or any other collection of Holy Writ. Nope... this is something I sort of make up as I go. I named it like Deuteronomy. Deuter, meaning two or second and onomy meaning a system of rules or laws. Hence, Deuteronomy means "Second Law". In the same like, Motheronomy means "Mom's Law". Like it? Yeah... me too!

I pretty much have 3 simple "laws" that I always start off with and then expound upon as necessary. Motheronomy 1:1 basically says "because I said so". Motheronomy 1:2 "no. and that's my final answer." Motheronomy 1:3 "yes, when you're 21." When I expound on these scriptures I like to go into what I call "Biblical Prose" because I find that the children seem to argue less. Perhaps it just sounds more official? Or maybe it demands a higher level of respect?

The other day my son's Facebook wall played out as such:

HIM: I really really really really really really really really really really want to sky dive on my 16th birthday.

HIS FRIEND: I'll go with you.

ME: No.

HIM: That no is not final. More people die in car accidents than they do in sky diving accidents.

HIS FRIEND: Yeah. And I'll let him land on me if his parachute doesn't work.

ME: Motheronomy 1:1-3 "Son, it troubleth me that the exposition of the utterance "NO" escapeth thine understanding. Dost thou not knoweth that thy life meaneth more to me than perhaps mine own? Dost thou not see that this longing for such an endeavor bringeth nothing but disquietude and unrest to mine heart? Why dost thou wish to beseech me when thou hast already heard these words from mine own lips? Son, I counsel thee to receive mine answer with grace and humility; and know that in due time, when thou has reached the age of thine twenty-first year, thou mayest chooseth for thyself upon which journeys thou shalt take. Until that time, I submit to thee that this will is mine and I ask thee to adhere to mine words and not forsake me. Thine obedience has found favor with me thus far and shall prove to sustain thee for many more days to come."

I think he gets is now. I think it's a win-win, don't you? I mean, if you think about it, I did say he could go... just not till he's 21! ;)

The Day My Childhood Was Over

I stayed up until two o'clock in the morning; packing and repacking and checking all things twice. Where were my tickets? My I.D.? Were my bags tagged? Was my room cleaned? Was everything stored neatly away in the basement so I could find it again when I came home in ten months?

I had barely fallen asleep before my dad came to wake me up. It was time to leave for the airport. I think I may have slept a solid hour. I came down the stairs. To my surprise, my mom was there. She stood in the dimly lit dining room, still in her jammies, still in her robe. The pink, silky, floral robe I came to know and love those past few years at home. I think it was her household attire between full-time school and her full-time night shift at the hospital. I digress.

She appeared emotional, or tired. I was leaning toward emotional. She gave me a hug. She told me to be safe. She told me I was gonna knock some socks off and that there was a whole world waiting for me. She told me that she loved me. I tried hard not to cry.

It wasn't just that I was leaving home, but my mother told me she loved me. My whole life I never doubted this. But you must understand that my mother, being somewhat neglected in her childhood, wasn't raised with tons of affection. And my father being raised Amish, they don't show public affection either. As a result, we just weren't an overly affectionate family. My parents were not the kind to randomley say "I Love You", though we all knew they did. I never once doubted the love my parents had for me or still have for me. Nonetheless, to hear those words that very day meant so much to me. She handed me an envelope, hugged me, and off I went.

My dad loaded up my luggage into the van and drove me off to the airport. He reviewed my flight itinerary with me. He reminded me how to do a connection. He assured me that the shuttle would be waiting once my plane landed on the other end. He told me to call on the calling card once I got there. We hugged and I boarded the plane.

I made my first connection in Chicago and my second in Los Angeles before arriving in Honolulu. I read the letter from my mother and reread it on each connecting flight; I cried like a baby. I had forgotten about the letter until recently. I can't tell you about the timing of finding it again; but I will say I don't believe in coincidences. Anyway, here it is...


Dear Emma,

When Heavenly Father sent you to our home, He sent compassion; a born leader; and a helper all wrapped up in a little girl.

So many blessings can and will be yours if you follow the paths of righteousness.

You have been blessed with many talents and skills. Some are evident and others may be forth-coming.

One thing is sure, Heavenly Father has something very special in mind for you.

We love you and are glad you're ours.


I retrieved my bags from baggage claim. The "Ohana Shuttle" found me almost the same time I found it. We waited for two more incoming students before heading to campus.

It was past dinner time by this point. It was dark, nevertheless I could see the water from the ocean slap up close to the side of Kamehameha Highway. I couldn't believe the ocean was there; right there. I couldn't wait until morning, until I could see the beauty that surrounded me.


Once arriving on campus and finding my way to my dorm room, I unpacked and made my bed. The room was dark. It was silent. My roommate would arrive later in the week as she was a returning student and I just a freshman; there early for orientation.

I was not used to the silent, seemingly empty room. I was used to a houseful of people, never having my own privacy. And even though I had my own room my Senior year of high school, I rarely slept with my door closed. I liked seeing the light peer in from the stair well. I liked hearing one of the boys snore. I enjoyed hearing my mom get ready and then leave for work. I enjoyed hearing my dad come home from his trips. I enjoyed hearing someone get up in the middle of the night, almost every night, around three in the morning to go downstairs for their traditional glass of water, followed by a stop to the bathroom.

As I lay in my new bed in my new dorm room in the stiff sheets provided by the school, I remember listening to the trade winds come off the shore. I remember listening to the breeze swell through the palms. And I remember listening to the sounds of silence.

Somehow it was at this moment I felt I was no longer a child. I felt like the rest of my life was about to begin and everything that happened at school would shape who I was and who I was to become. I remember thinking that the next time I would probably hear those sounds; the sounds of home- and not a dorm, it would be with my own family; my own children.

And it was.

My Favorite Toy: Little People

Little People. I loved to play with Little People. Some of my first toys were Little People.

I remember one Christmas, I was about 2 or 3 years old. We received Kenner Tree Tots complete with their own Tree House. I Loved playing with the tree tots! Yes. It was a family who lived in a tree. Fascinating! I called the girl Chrissy and the boy Tommy and the dog Barclay. I don't know if those were their official names or not, but that's what I called them.

That same Christmas we also got some Playskool's Weebles little people. And Weebles were cool because "Weebles Wobble but they don't fall down!". Yes, that was their slogan. There must have been an epidemic with competitors' "Little People" always falling down or something, because that catchy phrase sold millions of Weebles!

We can't talk "Little People" without mentioning the Fisher Price Little People. Fisher Price took the concept of Little People to a whole new level. There were farmers and school children and even Sesame Street Characters! A few of my lucky rich friends had whole towns of Fisher Price Little People in their playrooms. There was the Farm, the Amusement Park, the French Tudor Style 2-story House, the School House, the Auto-Mechanic shop with attached Gas Station and Parking Garage, and even an A-Frame "vacation" home!

We were only ever fortunate to have the red barn because we weren't "lucky rich kids". No, we just had a simple wooden doll house and regular boring old wooden blocks to "build" houses and furniture for our little people.

Nonetheless, playing with Little People became my favorite pastime. I think I played with Little People even after I was "too old" to be playing with them. And I was no respecter of Little People either. I mixed and matched the FP Little People with the Weebles and the Tree Tots. No discrimination here!

I was always a "story-maker", even before I began writing. Playing with these Little People allowed me an avenue by which to create storylines and characters with ongoing plot lines. I remember once, Mrs. Weeble was trying to have an affair with Fisher Price Farmer Bob. However, Fisher Price Granny caught on and wouldn't hear of it. And Tommy and Chrissy's Tree House broke at some point but thankfully the Farmer Bob and his wife adopted them. All was well in the land of the Little People.

In a house full of 7 kids, sometimes I just wanted my own space to do my own thing. These were definitely my favorite toys. I could play by myself for hours on end with the Little People. Until, that is, one of the other kids wanted a chance to play too. It's true. My mom would have to put time restrictions on how long I was able to play with Little People before letting one of the others have a turn.

I obviously don't play with Little People anymore. Though, that doesn't mean there still aren't characters with storylines and unfolding plots forever on-going in my mind. But now, I just write it all down.

What about you out there in the blogosphere? What was your favorite childhood toy?

Dont' Forget to Wipe!

Recently I read an article by Kate O'Brien entitled, "Our Guide To Being An Embarrassing Parent". O'Brien suggests that this is somehow a rite of passage for every child. The article discusses the obvious things such as spit baths and calling your teens by their "pet" names (sugar-buns) in front of their friends.

Comedian Arabella Wier suggests shouting out of the window really loudly as you drive past: "Don't forget to wipe properly, those stains will never come off, wipe front to back." But the consensus is: whether or not a parent means to embarrass their teen or not, it still happens and it doesn't take much.

Last weekend Big-D & I were hanging out, discussing this very concept of parents embarrassing children. We compared notes and laughed and laughed until I couldn't breathe any longer. What were our parents thinking???

Big-D played basketball for the local Jr. Jazz league. During practices, if a player missed a lay-up shot, his dad would chase them around the court. Ok, so the coach rides his players a little hard, I thought. Oh no, Big-D tells me. His dad was not a coach... just a spectating parent that decided to "get involved".

As far as sporting events go, I remember when my sibs & I were all enrolled in Middlebury Summer Little League. It was pretty much The Thing To Do in our town every summer. My mom worked nights and attending our early morning games was somewhat of a sacrifice for her. Now you must realize that normally, NurseMom has a low speaking voice and always sang alto in the church choir. However, something I learned about NurseMom that first summer is that her "cheering voice" is high-pitched. She would sit in the stands and yell something lame and embarrassing like "whoo-hoo" or "goooooooo Emma!" in her high-pitched screechy voice. Fellow teammates would always inquire, "Is that your mom?" Ummm.....what? Did you say something? Talking to me? But as NurseMom started picking up more hours on the night shift, she began to park out behind center field and watch the games between catnaps in her reclined front seat. Yes, that is a good place. Watch the game from there, I used to think.

Both Big-D & I also agree that our parents lacked a little fashion sense as well.


As far back as I can remember, MrBusDr always wore a Swedish-style Wigéns driving cap, completing the ensemble with a toothpick in his mouth. (Still Does.) I also remember the first time I saw him in blue-jeans. Whoa! That was a shock to the system. By the way - the hat never embarrassed me. It's just funny that while other dads wore ball caps - my dad wore this. Poor Big-D...his dad always wore an old knit hat.


MrBusDr got off easy because he was out of town a lot. His opportunity to embarrass his children wasn't nearly as exorbitant as NurseMom's.

Case in Point: "All Skate, Everyone Skate"

In elementary school, we had "roller skating parties" at the local roller rink. There was always a plethora of adult volunteers from the PTO (Parent Teacher Organization). Nevertheless, NurseMom insisted on coming. Heaven forbid she be like the other "cool" parents that could care less about their kids and just drop them off and pick them up afterwards. NurseMom came to the roller rink. And not only did NurseMom come, but she skated! And not only did she skate, but she was a bit of a show-off (NurseMom, you know this is true! Don't try to deny it!)

NurseMom would be wearing her "comfy" pants - the polyester pants with the elastic waistband. However, because there weren't any pockets, and her regular "big" purse could get stolen, she would bring along her Rabbit Fur Pouch (straight from the 60's) and safety pin it to the waistband of her pants. Now, that was attractive!

But not only did she wear the pants with the rabbit pouch tied to her hip and then skate... She was a totally awesome skater!!! She could skate forward AND backwards, and do figure eights, and whip in and out and around all of the little kids who were continually stumbling. And she did all of this with a great big smile spread across her face.

You didn't see other parents doing that. Nope - other parents were sitting on the side, knitting or reading their books, or chatting with other moms from the neighborhood. I remember once, while NurseMom was exhibiting her free-style skatin' skills, one of my friends said, "Wow! Look at that lady go! I wonder who's mom that is!" I was like, "uh.....let's go get some Nachos."

Now that she's older, I don't really know if NurseMom still enjoys skating or not. But I did recently see a Skating Granny Club... Perhaps she could look into that. I am sure that Polyester Pull-on Pants and faux Rabbit Fur Pouches would be totally welcomed.

As I was describing the aforementioned events to Big-D, between gasps of air and wiping the tears from my cheeks, I started to wonder what I have done or still do that perhaps embarrasses my own kids. I decided to ask.

Mindless Banterer: What have I ever done to embarrass you?

LittleDuckling: Nothing, really.

FunnyMan: Don't worry, she will. Give it time.

LittleDuckling: (shrugs shoulders and turns back to his Lego space city he is building).

Mindless Banterer: What about you? Have I ever done anything to embarrass you?

FunnyMan: Many Times.

Mindless Banterer: When? How?

FunnyMan: How about that time you had "the talk" with me about The FriendGirl during the middle of carpool?

Mindless Banterer: And You?

PrettyPrettyPrincess: Yes. Wait - is this for your blog???

Mindless Banterer: Yes.

PrettyPrettyPrincess: Ummm...Well, you sang in the car, when we were picking up my friends. You were singing a John Mayer song. My friends thought you were weird...so did I.

Mindless Banterer: Hmmm.

PrettyPrettyPrincess: Oh and...you also had your iPod at the store once and you were listening to it and so then you start shaking your bum-bum in public and singing along. It was so embarrassing.

See, now the funny thing is that I don't recall such said events -- or at least not the same way they do. I remember having a discussion about The FriendGirl in carpool, just not the discussion. And I am sure I was singing a John Mayer song in the car...When am I not listening to John Mayer? And besides, I don't sing that bad. Perhaps it was the drool patch that embarrassed them... And shaking my bum-bum in the store??? I have no such recollection. I plead the 5th!!!

That being said, I wonder how much my own parents were aware of the things they did that embarrassed us? Did NurseMom know that all eyes were on her during her Amateur Skating Exhibition? Maybe not. But, I am sure that MrBusDr knew that he parked in the Handicapped spot and then pretended to limp into the store (before laws were in place). I mean, how could he not have known?

I am sure that NurseMom takes great pleasure in knowing that my own children think I am embarrassing and that she - "Gram" - is cool! However, for the record... a few of FunnyMan's friends have actually told him I AM COOL! Yes - it's true - I've heard it myself. I think this also embarrasses him. He doesn't get it. But perhaps he doesn't realize just how un-cool they think their parents are - hahaha. Grass is always greener, eh?

In all actuality, looking back, NurseMom wasn't so bad. If it weren't for her individuality, I would not be the Mindless Banterer I am today.

And I definitely wouldn't have these great stories to tell - that's for sure.