Busy is a Choice

I told myself I wasn’t going to post when I was irritated, but this just blew me away. I’m supposedly on the Do Not Call list, but you still get calls from charities. I got a phone call one afternoon last week from a company that sells subscriptions to support a national charity – a wonderful reputable one, actually. I have supported this in the past, because I did have a magazine I wanted to renew and they had it available so, great. I no longer need the magazine – the babies are all grown up. And now I do not have time to read magazines. I wish I did – there are a bunch that I would love to peruse over a cup of coffee. I just really don’t have time. And that’s what I told the telemarketer.
Unbelievably, he came back with, “Really? You don’t even have time to keep up with current events like with Time magazine? We have a great deal on that.”
I said no thanks and hung up, but then I started thinking and I got furious. How dare this person question my statement? I said I didn’t have time, and that meant…
well, that meant I don’t make the time for that particular activity. Everyone has the same number of hours in every day, it’s what we choose to do with them that matter.
Okay, so what do I do instead of choosing to read a magazine?
I picked a Tuesday to track my daily activity to find out what happens to my time. I scribbled everything on a notebook that I carried in my back pocket, and here’s the translation as close as I can get it. Of course, I embellished as I translated. Can’t just not explain some of this stuff…

(6:33 am) Shower, dress, pluck eyebrows, decided even eyeliner is too much trouble, but moisturizer w/ sunscreen isn’t
(6:54 am) Get Elliott & Abby up, dressed, fed
Start one load laundry
Feed cats and dogs
Check backpacks, write in assignment book, make one cold lunch
Find new shoelaces, replace broken one while kids brush teeth
(7:47 am) Run to bus stop with kids
Pick up three pieces of trash from easement, put away scooter
Re-hang coats on racks, take one to laundry, pretreat stains
Convince wood-burning stove to light again (saves on propane)
Clean up cat food from dog getting into it, scold dog and feed cat again
Make coffee, check email, check list for today
Drink coffee, eat banana, enter Scout popcorn information on computer
Put laundry in dryer
Make a phone call regarding an email, get answer and reply to email
(8:20 am) Wake Ben, get him dressed and teeth brushed (he doesn’t eat in the morning – more proof that he is a clone of his father)
Start car so it can warm up
Find Ben’s shoes (flashlight required)
(8:54 am) Drive to preschool, get him checked in, hug him several times, escape
Drop off books (1 read, 1 unread) at library, use their quiet bathroom, look quickly at self-help shelf and decide it’s pretty hopeless, and a book that I don’t have time to read is not going to make any difference, leave
Drive home, pack a lunch for Ben, pack food and find cleaning supplies purchased last week for Clark, check bank balance online, start another load of laundry
(9:59 am) Drive to Clark’s (87 year old neighbor, I clean his house once a week), put food in his fridge, clean bathroom, sweep and mop kitchen floor, do laundry, chat with him about the inauguration, clean kitchen counters, sort his old newspapers to take to recycling, hug him, leave
(11:22 am) drive to preschool, wait for train, listen to NPR show until callers start (love news, can’t stand the callers), get to preschool, apologize for being late, gather Ben’s papers and coat
Drive to grocery store, shop, drop coupon folder, grab broom from clean up station and sweep them all into a pile and toss them in the trash
Drive home, unload groceries, find a place on the fridge to hang Ben’s picture (waffle prints, w for waffle and wait and water and wiggle…)
Sit with Ben while he eats lunch, read him Naughty Nicky, find some workbook activity pages for him to do
Put away groceries, wash apples, warm up a cup of coffee, put another log on the fire
(12:41 pm) Check email again, eat ham, cheese, hardboiled egg, large glass water and three Girl Scout cookies, reply to four emails, forward one, and check new church website for changes and additions
Change out laundry
Check the activity pages Ben did, read Hooway for Wodney, find a web site for him to play on
Sweep and mop kitchen floor, bundle up again to go feed and water chickens (roosters actually cooperated today)
Bring in eggs and 1 armload firewood
Rearrange fridge to accommodate eggs which have piled up – text two people to see if they want eggs
Fix printer – Ben tried to print and paper jammed, reprint page and watch him play one game
Drink some coffee while staring into deep freeze, waiting for dinner to magically appear; take out chicken and hope for the best
Fold one load laundry, put Ben’s clothes away, take sheets off bunk bed and sit for a few minutes to repair beloved stuffed animal that dogs fought over
Take box of stuff to car to take to Goodwill tomorrow, bring in another armload of firewood
Answer phone call, clean counters and drink coffee while chatting, take notes on follow-up activities that result from inability to say no to caller
(3:03 pm) Get kids off the bus, listen to their day, unpack backpacks, prepare an apple with peanut butter, a bagel with cream cheese and a pack of popcorn because they couldn’t all want the same thing…Allow them to watch 45 minutes of television so I can make three more phone calls about soccer stuff and put away supplies from yesterday’s cub scout meeting
(3:59 pm) Turn television off and start chores – Elliot brings in firewood, Abby puts away some clean dishes, Ben gathers laundry and they each have a trash can to take out
Homework (Elliott) and play time (Abby and Ben)
Sort through mail while helping Elliott and watching Abby’s fashion show and admiring Ben’s Lego creations
Cut up chicken, marinate for stir fry, rinse dishes and start dishwasher
Eat 2 more girl scout cookies and drink a glass of milk, hide cookies in back of cupboard, rearrange cupboard and throw away stale crackers (why can’t saltines come in smaller packages?)
Fold laundry, put away, watch tomorrow’s weather and a little news (see, I do keep up with current events)
Scoop litter box, walk out to field to dump the bucket, wash hands, arms and change shirt (grossest job in the universe…)
(5:05 pm) Answer phone call, look up information online, pass on to caller, accept thanks for being a lifesaver
While online, look up more science projects for next week’s scout meeting and make list of supplies, email a mom about doing snacks, email Cubmaster about belt loops, make phone call verifying rental hall for Pinewood Derby
Add logs to fireplace, go to kid’s bathroom to get sawdust out of eye, clean toothpaste out of sink and pick up toys and towels while I’m there
Find several things in kids’ bathroom that would be great for scout meeting, put them in a bag (and hope I can find them next week)
Put books back on the shelf in story corner in the boys’ room, take stuffed animals back to Abby’s room, remember a birthday while I’m in her room and pick out a card, sign, address and stamp it
(6:14 pm) Make dinner with lots of help, put ice on Ben’s head from fighting over the stepstool with Abby, send Abby to time out, put dinner on the table for Elliott, argue with him over watching tv since Dad isn’t home, give in, watch some bizarre kid turn into a bunch of different aliens while eating, get Abby out of time out, serve her and Ben dinner
Retrieve cat food dish from outside, scold dog, feed cats again because they are all hungry and meowing loudly every time I walk into the kitchen
Unload dishwasher, Abby and Ben help (sort of – I have no idea where the salad tongs disappeared to…)
(7:04 pm) Read library books
(7:33 pm) Answer phone, go to computer and add three things to the church meeting agenda on the 22nd, check email again, reply to two, forward two to someone who may know the answer ‘cause I sure don’t…
(8:28 pm) Straighten toys and put sheets on bunk bed while kids play rock paper scissors to decide who gets to be last in the shower
Cycle kids through the shower and brushing their teeth, getting pajamas on
Put logs on fire, sweep around fireplace
(9:15 pm) escape to my own bathroom to catch up on note taking and have silence…
(9:19 pm) break’s over… Ben is screaming again, remove his game from Elliott’s DS
Sit on bed and review the day with each kid (sometimes this is a dog pile, sometimes I get individual time, tonight is a dog pile)
(9:41 pm) warm up a cup of coffee, rinse dinner dishes, put in dishwasher, answer phone, walk Ben back to bed, take Elliott’s DS away, get Abby a drink, take notes on phone call
Get online and complete Kidsafe enrollment so I can help coach Ben’s soccer team, fix printer again, write several things on grocery list
Check weather, respond to email
Walk Ben back to bed, cover Abby up, take Elliott’s PSP away
Drink entire bottle of water I was supposed to be sipping on all day, email soccer coordinator about Kidsafe enrollment, print scout activity instructions
(10:41 pm) Put log on fire, take Ben’s DS away from Elliott, sit with Elliott until he tells me what’s bugging him so he can go to sleep
(11:09 pm) warm up coffee, check email one last time, check other websites I try and keep up with, get great fire station fundraiser idea from one and make notes, look over calendar for rest of week, look on craigslist for soccer stuff for kids
Type church minutes from last meeting, add one more thing to agenda
Look for insurance bill Don asked me to mail and pay it, hunt for his stamps and give up, go get one of mine
(11: 48 pm) Be glad Elliott and Ben are finally asleep, prepare and eat whole grapefruit because it sounded good, watch last few minutes of CSI:NY
Brush teeth, sit down with this list and translate!
(1:29 am) Done. Going to bed.

Looking back one week later, that was almost a typical day – Don being out of town means some things I don’t normally do like chickens and catbox are added in there, but for a Tuesday, that was pretty accurate. Could I have read the magazine instead of watch tv at midnight? Maybe, but why work that hard? Besides, if my husband isn’t home and I can watch a few minutes of Carmine Giovinazzo…
So Mr. Telemarketer, I suppose I do have the time to read a magazine, but I don’t want to. All the things I do are for my kids and my community, and I’m going to have plenty of time when the kids are grown to sit around and read. I’ll subscribe then. (If your children are older, could you please reassure me that I will have time to read… someday?)

I'm Not Paranoid, Just Very Observant

It may surprise some of you to know that I am a gigantic scaredy cat. Yes, an even bigger chicken than the chickens in my yard. (I'm actually terrified of the rooster, and not real crazy about the hens, either.) But wait, there's more! I'm afraid of...

• heavy traffic in construction areas
• food poisoning (my husband calls this salmonoia and it drives him crazy to see me washing the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher and giving two day old leftovers to the dogs, but I can't help it - I would rather have a root canal than throw up)
• having car trouble at night
• being pregnant again
• never being pregnant again
• mice (and living in this house, that's a problem because despite the presence of four cats, the mice are everywhere, I just know they are)
• weddings (getting humiliated at one makes you want to avoid them)
• surprise parties (control freaks do not like surprises, even good ones)
• that someone will turn me in to that "What Not to Wear" show and that snotty woman will come in and throw away all my soft warm comfy clothes
• that the SLE has done more damage than I have time left to repair
• not spending enough time with my kids
• spending too much time with my kids
• opening up on the internet like this (it's really good for the author in me, but the paranoid crazy woman wants to go around unplugging everything)
• the house burning down and I won't be able to get the Steinway out (speaking of unplugging everything)
• being fat for the rest of my life
• never ever finding a decent hairstyle
• Don being in an ugly work/motorcycle accident (fainting when they ask you to identify body parts is really not cool)
• someone snatching my kids (although they might bring them back in minutes, offer me some cash and their condolences...)
• roller coasters and any amusement park ride that makes you go around in circles or up in the air
• and of course, flying

Some of these are legitimate fears that involve my family and health, and some are irrational and can be traced directly to my control freak status. My goal for the year is to banish my fears, both real and silly. I recently read several books that I would recommend: Ask and It Is Given by Jerry and Esther Hicks, The Law of Attraction by Michael Losier, and The Secret by Rhonda Byrne. The premise of all three is that you create in your life the things you focus on, whether positive or negative. You perpetuate your own misery if you want to, but you can also psych yourself up by being grateful and appreciative of everything. I'm inclined to buy into this, because I do this with parking spots all the time. Anyone who has herded three easily distracted children across a busy parking lot can empathize with me. Before we get to the store, I see myself driving into the parking lot and pulling into a spot very close to both the door and a cart corral, and I say a quick thank you to the person who left the spot for me. It works almost every time. Almost, because the activity level in the car has a lot to do with my ability to concentrate. The presence of electronic devices like Nintendo DS and MP3 players seems to correlate positively to my ability to find a great spot, but that's a purely unscientific study.

I'm using the law of attraction to analyze my fears. Does this mean that Friendly the rooster is psychotically evil because I think he is? No, he's just being a rooster, protecting his hens. Does he know that I'm afraid of him, and act accordingly? Of course. So since Don is out of town this week and I have to feed the chickens and gather eggs, how do I prevent puncture wounds and peck marks? By convincing myself that the rooster is smaller and dumber than me, carrying a baseball bat and wearing gloves and two pairs of jeans. I will feel invincible and maybe they will leave me alone like they leave Don alone. Don feels invincible all the time. Once last summer, he got up in the night because the rooster was crowing which usually signals that something got into the coop. He went out in his boxer shorts and work boots and convinced a 4 foot black snake to find a snack elsewhere, came back in and went back to sleep without so much as a mosquito bite. If he had been out of town that week the snake would have eaten well. But if I feel invincible, and keep telling myself that I'm impervious to rooster spurs, and convince myself that I have every right to go in there and get the eggs and dump some feed in the tub and clean the waterers...

Wow, I'm kind of going to have to spend a long time in the coop. Maybe I'll call a neighbor to help with the chickens and I'll focus on my fear of food poisoning first. Yeah, that sounds good. I have a stomach lined with steel, just like the rest of my family. I do not have to eat the leftovers but they can safely be fed to the family. The dishes are perfectly clean...

The Fly on the Wall: Mom

I love listening to my kids when they are not talking to me. Here are some conversations I’ve overheard lately.

Ben: Do you smell brownies? (He’s been in and out of the kitchen all day asking to lick the spoon. Now he’s looking for accomplices)
Elliott: Yeah, mom’s making some.
Ben: She’s making those little ones with the white stuff and the cherries. (said in that dreamy voice that only a 5 year old can make sound perfectly innocent)
Elliott: Yeah, those are good.
Ben: What’s your favorite part of those things? Mine’s the frosting. Or maybe the cherries.
Elliott: Are you playing this game or what?
Ben: Don’t you love those cherries? No, I don’t want to play anymore. Let’s go see if mom will give us some cherries!


Abby had been on a sleepover, and Sunday after church we picked her up. It was quiet on the way home until…
Ben: Abby, did you know we had church this morning?
Abby: Yeah.
Ben: And we did Sunday School without you?
Abby: So?
Ben: And then we did church and we did that thing that Elliott can do but I can’t do and I can’t remember if you can or not.
Abby: What thing?
Ben: That thing where you get the little snack and the tiny little cup with the juice in it. Can you do that?
Abby: Oh, you had Communion. Yeah, I can do that.
Ben: Why do you get to do that and Elliott gets to do that but I can’t do that until I’m… well… I don’t know how many I can be until I can do that.
Abby: ‘Cause you have to understand that it’s God’s body and God’s blood and it’s serious.
Elliott: It’s symbolic.
Abby: Yeah, it’s not blood, but it’s still serious.

Abby: Deck the halls with hows of holly, fa la la la la la la la la!
Ben: I wanna sing that too – start over!
Abby: Okay, but you don’t know the words, so repeat after me. Deck.
Ben: I don’t wanna repeat you I know the words, just sing it!
Abby: Okay, Deck the halls with hows of holly…
Mom: Honey, it’s boughs of holly, bough is another word for branch, and holly is a very pretty winter tree.
Abby: Okay. Deck the halls with vows of holly, fa la la la la, la la la la.
Ben: Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Abby: I want to sing it myself, Ben, okay? You sing quietly in your head.
Ben: But I know the words, I can sing it loud if I want. DECK THE HALLS WITH VOWS OF HOLLY, FA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA.
Abby: Tis the season to be jolly, fa la la la la, la la la la. On we now, or they will feral, la la la la la la la la.
Ben: What are the words?
Abby: Okay, let’s start over. You repeat what I sing, okay? Deck!
At this point mom had to leave the room…

Ben: Elliott. Elliott. Elliott. Elliott! Elliott!
Elliott: What?
Ben: Isn’t it so cool that robes come with pockets?
Elliott: Yeah.
Ben: You can put so much stuff in your pockets if you want to. Like cars, and Pokemon, and Bakugon, and Diego legos. Look at what I have in my pocket, Elliott. Elliott! Look what I have in my pocket!
Elliott: Yeah, cool.
Ben: Isn’t it cool that robes come with pockets? Elliott, isn’t that cool? Elliott! Elliott!
Elliott: Mine doesn’t have pockets.
Ben: Oh. (Long pause) Mine does. Do you want to put some stuff in my pockets? They’re pretty big. Elliott? Elliott? Elliott? Do you want to put some stuff in my pockets? Do you? Elliott?
Elliott didn’t answer, he had finally fallen asleep. Ben gave up about eight minutes later.

I think because they don't want anything from me, I'm able to just listen to them when they talk to each other. I can hear their personalities and discern their roles in the family. Elliott is focused on his own thing but recognizes the fact that having siblings means at least he isn't alone all the time. Abby is the teacher and the joiner - she tries to get everyone involved as long as they do it her way. Being the only girl, she has that luxury. Ben is the persistent follower when they are all together, trying to be a part of everything and not wanting to miss out. He's got quite the personality, but as the youngest, he's eager to hide it in order to fit in.

I'm going to miss the conversations between them the most. Soon, I know, they will figure out that I can hear them, and soon they'll all have their own lives outside the house. I hope they remember how to talk to each other, how to enjoy that. I hope that someday, some holiday far in the future, I'll be able to listen in again.

Snow Day

Winter was on a Sunday this year, according to my kids. November 30th. It started snowing Saturday off and on, and then stuck overnight. Immediately after church they took off toward the south field by the pond to check for ice and dead frogs. I barked strict orders at them as they ran to STAY OUT OF THE WATER YOU DO NOT HAVE WINTER BOOTS ON YOU ARE WEARING GOOD CLOTHES DO NOT BRING ANYTHING BACK TO THE HOUSE STAY OUT OF THE WATER OR ELSE!
Once they saw the tiny pasture between the pond and the hedge apple trees, however, the pond was forgotten.
Remember that sight from when you were a kid? Or maybe last winter? The blanket of sparkly white stuff that looks solid but isn’t? That freaky substance that practically screams “Come play with me!” and no matter how old you are you can hear it? Oh, yeah – snow.
I watched them stop and just stand and stare at the field. Then as they took off at a run again, I trudged inside to get my camera. And my boots. And a decent hat for Ben.
Before the kids got there, this field had a beautiful coat of snow that was just barely beginning to melt because it had the longest grass. It’s probably just under an acre, and it’s a funny shape and I don’t like to mow it because there’s more unpleasant surprises in that tiny field than anywhere else on the property. The biggest toad I’ve ever seen in my life hopped in front of the mower for a good 25 yards one day; I finally just got off and chased him to the side with a stick. I’ve had to swerve (and if you’ve ever driven a mower with zero-radius turning and a 60 inch deck, this is not easy or particularly fun) to avoid stray beams and piles of scrap steel. And since this field is between the pond and the hedge apple trees, the perimeter is a delightful experience – sandy slopes on one side, branches with 4 inch thorns on two others. Look up osage orange on the web and you’ll see what I mean. These trees are the strangest things too – it’s not like this ‘fruit’ is edible or good for much. I don’t see what the tree is protecting, but it is very well protected. And for those of you who think hedge apples keep the bugs away, I gotta tell ya that bugs crawl all over them when they fall in the yard, so… if it works for you, great, but I’m just sayin’…
Anyway, back to our Snow Day.

I made it back out to the field in time for a snowball fight, and the snowman that Abby had so desperately wanted to build since, well, last winter. There has been a bowl with buttons and sprinkles in the china cabinet since August, just waiting for the snow to fall. Baby carrots are always on the grocery list because baby carrots make cuter noses than big ones.
The snowman didn’t get a name – they couldn’t agree. The artists did agree to pose with their creation, and then I said I had to go inside. “Are you cold, mama?” Ben asked, incredulously. It’s 34 degrees out, he’s only keeping his coat zipped because I threatened him, the hat I brought him is on my head, and his three pairs of gloves are somewhere in the abyss known as their room. They are more costume than practical winter apparel.

I remember not caring how cold it was – there’s SNOW!!! I think I was about his age. It must wear off earlier in girls, because Abby followed me inside. The Capri pants she insisted were okay to wear today apparently aren’t good for playing in the snow after all. I resisted the urge to snort loudly at her. Elliott and Ben stayed out another 20 minutes or so throwing snowballs at each other and the snowman, and then we all had hot cocoa.
Monday morning, the snow was almost all melted away, and as Ben and I ran our errands, I heard a big sad sigh from the back seat.
“What’s up little man?” I asked him, thinking we’d forgotten some toy crucial to his road-trip enjoyment.
“Winter’s over, mom. I’m just sad, that’s all.”
I only spent like 14 seconds trying to explain that winter had not even really started yet. No matter how many times we look at the calendar, the concept of seasons just isn’t clicking for him. He seemed happier to hear that there would be more snow days, and then he moved on to a charming oration about what might happen if we moved to Alaska. He can dream of moose and drifts higher than our house, but the southern Midwest is just fine by me.

In Remembrance

Today is the 10th anniversary of my father’s death. He was 51 when he died of bladder cancer. I miss him every day, and I still get teary thinking about all that my kids and I have missed in the last 10 years, not having him around. These are my memories of my dad. They are my memories – if you are reading this, please keep that in mind. I was his only daughter, and he was my only dad, and these memories are what I have. They are mine – they may not be perfect and they may not always be flattering to either myself or my dad, but they are my memories, and that’s what I have left. Those, and the brown eyes. And being short. That’s probably from him too.

My earliest actual memory of my dad – not one I’ve seen a photo of and can vaguely recall being there – is of his shoes. They were white. It was the 70’s and I was maybe 7 or 8, my brother was 3. Our house had a pool in the backyard, and we were all out back one summer evening. My brother and I were toasting marshmallows on the grill. Suddenly a bug – a rather large bug – flew onto my brother’s shoulder and began crawling toward his head. I’m sure I was paralyzed by the sight of a bug, or maybe I didn’t care, or more likely I was too dumb to have done anything except watch. The bug reached my brother’s skin and he began screaming and doing the getitoffme dance. My parents both came running, thinking of course that he was on fire, and I remember the sound of my dad’s shoes on the concrete. Dad got my brother’s shirt off and shook it, and out fell the bug. He squished it with his white shoe, and I think we went back to toasting marshmallows, but I don’t remember much more. I think he was wearing white pants, too, and a purple shirt. It was the 70’s.

My dad was always “Dad.” He died before we had the chance to get to know each other as adults. I only knew him as Dad, and looking back I think maybe he wanted it that way. That role was important to him, and he needed to maintain it. I learned more about him as a person at his funeral, more bits of information and insights into his personality from his friends and the more than 300 people who came than I ever learned about him in our life together. I was just starting to get hints about him as a person when he got sick. Some of that lack of knowledge is my fault. I was incredibly self-centered as a young person, and so naïve about the world, yet I thought I was smart and talented and wonderfully worldly. I believed I knew everything I needed to know about my family, and therefore spending time with them was superfluous. I believed that I knew so much about my family they were predictable. I thought I knew what would make my Dad angry (most of the things I did), what would make him happy (very few of the things I did), and what he liked to do (work and mow the lawn).

Please read that the way I wrote it – I THOUGHT I knew him. I THOUGHT that’s the way he was. I was in my 20’s and at the pinnacle of self-centeredness, give me a break.

I’m sure that’s not really the kind of man he was at all. Now that I’m a mom, and almost in my forties, I understand. He had a life, pet peeves, things that he enjoyed that made him a complicated person, so much more than just The Dad. I’m so sad that I didn’t get to know the real man, so sad that he didn’t get to know the grown-up me, that sometimes I’m physically ill. All that we have missed…
Sifting back through my memories I can sometimes pull out snippets of conversations, mental pictures of him that make me think I am a lot like him, and I get a lot of comfort from that.
I think about the few ‘grown-up’ conversations I had with him and I realize we may now share some of the same philosophies. I mentioned in my last entry a comment he made to me about Democrats and communism. My father was not bigoted or racist or mean spirited. He was an intelligent man with an incredible sense of humor (which I’m proud to say I inherited), and when he made that comment I took it for what it was worth – my father’s dry, sarcastic opinion about a serious topic that his 11 year old daughter brought up at the dinner table one night.
I sat across from my Mom and on my Dad’s left at our dinner table. My brother sat next to my mom, and the rest of that 8 person table looked exactly like mine does now: piles of mail, school papers, keys, pens, the Sunday newspaper, and that document from that place that you’re supposed to sign and return asap. I remember sitting in that chair for eternal, silent moments when I had done something stupid. I remember sitting in that chair and laughing at something he’d said. I remember sitting in that chair, so close to him but always feeling very far away. He was The Dad, after all. I always knew he loved me, never doubted that, I just wasn’t ever sure how much.

I remember my dad being opinionated, quietly intimidating, having high expectations, and working a lot. I remember having everything planned out, nothing ever felt spontaneous at my house. I remember doing similar things year after year after year. I remember feeling like nothing I did was going to be quite good enough for him, like he wasn’t really on my side, and that he really didn’t try to understand ME or treat me special because I was his daughter. I always felt he just wanted me to fit into the world the way it was and deal with it. I do remember a moment of comfort when a boy didn’t ask me to skate one night, and I do remember the pleasant surprise on his face when I sang a solo at church. But I also remember being on my own a lot. I remember feeling distanced from him.

Now that I’m an adult (and oddly enough, craving time on my own and just a little distance from my own kids), I look back and see the wisdom of what I believe were his opinions. I think that he believed in hard work, careful planning, and in educating yourself. I think he believed that things don’t just get handed to you, and you don’t always get what you want or think you deserve, even when you work hard, are educated and plan well. It is in those moments that you depend on family, you call in your reserves of love and energy from friends, and you make lemonade from those lemons. You don’t expect anyone to feel sorry for you – you ask for help and say thank you, but you certainly don’t expect anyone’s pity. When things do just get handed out, it diminishes the accomplishments of those who work hard. When you are coddled, it decreases your desire to work hard and earn things for yourself. There’s absolutely merit to that – I just wish I’d learned it from something other than so much example.

Then again, now that I’m a mom, I think I understand what he thought his role was, and what he may have thought he needed to do and be as a dad. If I don’t teach my kids what the world is like, how are they going to survive in it? How are they going to succeed? I do agree that the work ethic he passed down to me is a keeper. I’m a better cheerleader than he was, though. I have taught myself to be a praise freak – always hugging my kids and saying “Great job! That was awesome!” and yelling louder than anyone else out there, because I don’t remember him doing that when I was a kid and I always wanted him to. I thought my dad didn’t want to look silly. I wonder if he thought that might have tarnished his image in my eyes, or made it harder to be the bad guy when he needed to. More than likely it was just his personality. I just never got to know that part of him. I wasn’t a bad kid, but I wasn’t perfect, and I do know now that he loved me so much he couldn’t stand the thought of anything happening to me. I love my own kids the same way, I’m just more expressive, more outspoken, more straightforward about what I expect of them and why. I learned from his example, and I just put my own spin on it.

I hope I turned out okay, I hope that I’m someone he would have been proud of. I don’t do all the things I do trying to please him; I do them because they are the right things to do, and I think that would please him. I look back and realize he was a good father, and he taught me a lot even when I didn’t realize I was listening. He would have been an amazing grandpa, too.

The weather was so beautiful the year that he died. He accepted his own illness and fatal prognosis with incredible grace and dignity. Even sick and dying he never let me see him as anything but Dad. True, I only came up on weekends in the last few months of his illness, and I was (again) in my own universe, pregnant with Elliott. But I don’t think that, even had I still lived at home, been single, or even been the most selfless person imaginable, he would have shared any of his fears or frustrations with me. He was still my Dad. So I will always remember him as Dad. I miss that Dad. I miss the man I never got to know even more.

Ah, democracy...

I just voted. For the first time in years, I was alone, no kids to keep quiet and out of the way while I contemplated my ballot. There were only two races and one issue that I hadn't heard about or researched, so I had to consider those a little more than the others, but I was startlingly well prepared for this election. And I voted with my kids in mind this time, especially with the presidential choices.
I have a political prediction: Obama will win, and my kids will have a heck of a mess to clean up.
I remember being in 5th or 6th grade and asking my father what the difference was between Republicans and Democrats. Subtle man that he always was with me, he told me that Democrats were the closest thing to Communist that were allowed in this country.
This race has made me think more about what he said than I ever have before.
While I certainly don't think Democrats are Communist or even really have communist tendencies, I wonder about the strange Socialist-sounding phrases that are bouncing around the airwaves this campaign. "Spread the wealth." Really?
I'm certainly no genius when it comes to this stuff, but let's see if I have this right: A capitalist or market-based economy in a democratic (small d) nation provides me the means to be a millionaire if I choose to and work hard and smart enough. That economy and political structure allows us all to be millionaires if we are doing the right things and making the right choices, COMPLETELY INDEPENDENT of our birth situation, our health, our skin color, or anything else that defines us as a unique individual.
I didn't choose to be born in Nebraska to the parents I have, I didn't choose their economic standing, and I didn't choose the towns or houses I lived in growing up. My husband didn't choose his birthplace, parents, or the situations he grew up in. My kids aren't making those choices about their young lives, either.
HOWEVER:
We own a decent house and a nice plot of land, my husband works very hard at an awesome job that enables me to stay home with our kids and we don't have to worry about groceries or health care, we have 3+ well-running vehicles, I have a college education to help me through the volunteer organizations I'm privileged to be a part of, and that education will also provide me with job opportunities once my children are all in school full time. We have a savings account and retirement accounts, and we both have life insurance. My kids participate in lots of activities, and they have lots of wonderful things to entertain and educate them.
All these good things are the results of choices my husband and I made AS ADULTS. These things are ours, earned with hard work and good choices. I feel good about these things.
I'm not unsympathetic, I do care about my fellow human beings. I give at church, and I support food and clothing drives, I give when asked to help out a friend or family who's had something unexpected happen. It's my choice to give, and I hope I'm setting an example for my kids about giving and caring.
But here's where I think my kids are not going to be able to live out my example. Obama speaks to and is heard by and adored by an alarmingly large group of people in this country who, for whatever reason, believe that the governments in our country at all levels should provide them with the same things that my husband and I have just because. Because they are disabled, because they were injured at work, because they grew up in a dysfunctional household, because they grew up in an orphanage, whatever.
We have a family friend who has not had an easy life. She has a child and is dependent on state aid for food, basic household supplies, rent, healthcare and childcare. Her child has medical problems, and she herself has medical problems. She only works a few hours a week, because if she worked more she'd lose her state benefits. I would like to help her, but she really doesn't need anything: she gets more money from the state for groceries than I spend in a month. Her paycheck goes toward her clothes and cell phone bill every month, because she really doesn't need it for anything else, she simply likes the time she can spend away from her child. Recently she told me she thinks she might be pregnant again, but her new boyfriend may not be the father.
She's not the least bit embarrassed about all the state aid she gets every month. Not embarrassed at all about her living situation, the haphazard way she raises her child (soon to be children), and has absolutely no shame at all about being totally dependent on government workers for her existence. In fact, she complains about them, saying they are not nice to her when she goes in to get her vouchers. I asked her once if she didn't want to try for a better situation, try to change things so she could get off state aid and have a better life. Her only answer was that she didn't think she had any choices. Her mom was a drunk, and abusive, so she didn't have a chance to learn in school, wasn't going to be able to go to college now because of the kids, and anyway, why bother? She was doing just as well as me, and didn't have to go through all that work stuff to get there.
She's voting for Obama.
He's catering to this 'entitlement' generation, these people who really think that the government should step in and help everyone get what their neighbor has because they don't have it and they want it. Where does that leave my family?
Here's my prediction: I can see the spiral from here. Under Obama's programs, very wealthy people and businesses will start paying huge amounts of taxes, so they will stop contributing to social causes, and those organizations will begin to depend on middle-income folks for contributions but we won't be able to contribute because we have to make a choice: church and local organizations, or the big national ones, and we'll choose local for a while. But because these big companies are paying so much in taxes, they'll have to raise prices on their products and services, which means we'll be paying more for all the things we need everyday, so then we'll stop contributing to our local service organizations completely so that we can afford the necessities. Those organizations will then apply to the government for help, or just fold. Meanwhile, people who are getting so much government assistance they don't need to work will be desparate for things to do, and the rates of things like teen pregnancy, crime, and drug use will rise. Colleges nationwide will start to close because fewer people will see college as a need, and then there will be even more people unemployed and looking for goverenment handouts. My kids are going to see the death of our market-based economy, because the people who want more government handouts are going to squash it.
Maybe it won't be that bad. Like I said, I'm not exactly qualified to make these kind of predictions, but I do understand what my dad was talking about. I personally want the government to stay where it belongs - in regulation, not regurgitation.

No Mo' Mojo

This is going to be a photo entry. I don't have the brain cells to write creatively this time. But the month is almost over... Here's what has eaten up all my mojo:

Football and Cheerleading:

Occupying Ben during games:

My dining room since October 14, when we started in on Abby's costume:

My kids no longer think it's cool to eat standing up in the kitchen, and frankly I'm tired of it too, but the dogs thought it was awesome.

The church fall party:

The costumes (a mermaid, Darth Vader and Annekin Skywalker):

And the Fire Fighter's Association Annual Halloween Party at the station. We went from working fire station to party central and back again in 8 hours. We had a full house this year, and I was so grateful for all the help. I ran around like a one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest, and the fire fighters (my husband included) and other association helpers were great to just do what I asked and not argue, and even better, they just did stuff that needed to be done. I'd go in to make coffee and find it already brewing, I'd go to bury"treasure" in the hay wagon only to find a fire fighter directing my children to do it. It went very well but I'm really glad it's over!

Now all that's left to do this month is 19 loads of laundry, a week's worth of dishes and fast food trash (that's mostly in the van, though), and compile and submit the scout's popcorn orders. Oh, and clean out the fridge, clean off the dining room table, clean the bird cage, vacuum, bathe the dogs (spring pond water is one thing, fall pond water is too disgusting for words, but they swim in it anyway...), plan a game and a craft for the class Halloween parties this Friday, and get over the cold I got for some strange reason...

At church Sunday someone asked how many days there were 'til Christmas.

I nearly punched him.