Rookie Mistake

Today I found that Walmart still had some of the classic hollow chocolate bunnies left over and were selling them for 25 cents. I bought 2. What can I say, I'm a splurger. The fun part is that I bought them for my husband and me, not the kids. While they were at school I took off the ears and delighted in my ability to eat chocolate in peace. It was glorious. Then, as we finished up dinner, my husband announces, "I'm going to go eat the ears off my chocolate bunny." He knew that they did not have bunnies of their own. He knew! I just shook my head. Rookie move there my friend, rookie move. The pleas started instantly.

  "Can I have one ear?"

        "I'll take the other!"

I love my husband very much. I'd take a bullet for him. Well, maybe a rubber bullet. My point is, I would and have gotten him out of holes before, but he was on his own with this one. He must have noticed my mix of smirk and glare because he did not mention the fact that I had my own bunny stashed in the back of the frig, and I was certainly not going to offer it up to sacrifice. 

To his credit, Rocky kept his head after the initial mistake. He pointed out the mound of Easter candy still sitting in each kid's basket. He declared that it was his special bunny because I had bought it just for him, and he was going to eat it. Then he took a big chunk out of the ears as they watched. To my surprise, they cheered him on. They even made suggestions on how to keep the rest of the bunny safe from them trying to sneak a piece. The best idea was to just lick the whole thing, but he decided that placing it in a ziploc on the back of the top shelf would do. 

(what is left of my bunny)

The kids did tease him a good bit about not sharing and there was some good sarcastic "How could you?" cries. Nix brushed it off by saying, "It's cool. I still have my peeps.", which was made funnier by the fact that she didn't seem to get why we were laughing so hard. It was probably because these are the peeps she meant.

Stay in the lines!

I was a slightly obsessive little kid when it came to coloring. Before I colored a flower, I wanted to know what color a real flower could be. Before I colored a bird, I wanted to know what kind of bird it was so that I could color it the right color. I didn't always stay in the lines, but if I went outside the lines it was with a purpose. I'd add in sky or grass or whatever I felt was missing from the picture. So, I did color outside of the lines but in a very controlled manner. Also, I like to put my crayons in the box in rainbow order, but that is a different story.
Our society has become one that greatly encourages people to color outside the lines, but that is mostly metaphorical. I'm all for thinking outside of the box, but there is one time when it is vital that we all stay in the lines. WHEN YOU ARE DRIVING! There is no room for free thinking on the road. You can not just decide to break free of the man and leave the constraints of conformity while driving down the road. Especially when there is on coming traffic on one side and a drop off into a stream on the other.
My town is full of twisty narrow roads, and not a day goes by that I don't see someone drifting over the line. Yesterday a mini van managed to get fully into my lane while  coming around a corner. Watching someone drive into your lane knowing that you have nowhere to go and no way to dodge them is a terrible feeling. She corrected just in time... this time.
This has become such a frequent occurrence on one particular road that I am giving serious consideration to taking an alternate route to my daughter's school. It will take me several minutes more, but minutes verse a head on, or even seeing a head on crash happen, seems like a fair trade.
I was recently explaining defensive driving to Nix, and I think she summed it up nicely when she asked, "So driving is like a very dangerous game of dodge ball where you try not to hit someone or get hit?"

Bank Shot off Grandma

It is not unusual for old southern churches to have a cemetery next to the church. With the way our small town has grown in the past decade, several of these small old cemeteries have become landlocked. In normal circumstances that just means that no one else can be buried there, but one local Methodist church has other issues.

(click the image to see it larger)

If you look at the picture above you will notice that from left to right you have the church, a preschool playground, the graveyard/ parking lot, and then the soccer field.
I occasionally have a dark twist to my sense of humor. It is those days when I start to wonder if this arrangement has been problematic for them. Do the kids run out on the playground and say, "I see dead people"? If you get a bad parking spot on Sunday do you say, "I had to park way out by old man Holbrook, God rest his soul."? If you kick a soccer ball and it misses the goal, but then banks off a headstone and rolls in the back way, is the point good? Are the little kids afraid that misbehaving children end up on the other side of the fence? When you reserve a grave plot do you get to park there until you die?
I can't be the first person to wonder these things. The church should consider adding them to it's FAQ page on the website.

The Prayer Competition

We have family prayer time each night before bed, and like everything else, my kids have to try and turn it into a competition. The first issue we ran into was who was going to pray in what order. They created unofficial rules. The same person can't be first twice. You can't keep picking the same person to go last every night. JD thrives on patterns and order, so he would have some idea of how he thought the order should go, which was often a bad thing if he wasn't doing the picking. Finally the parents had to step in and create actual rules. If you get picked last tonight, you go first tomorrow. We will go in age order from youngest to oldest in a loop. I can not believe I have had to make up rules so that we could pray peacefully.
It was at this point that I started questioning if the kids were taking prayer time seriously. We all had a good long talk about how it was talking with God and a special time. I decided that they had become too repetitive as well and required them to add one thing different each night. It could be something they were thankful for, a friend in need, or a personal request. I wasn't picky, I just wanted them to really think through their prayers. That started out as a great success. I was all ready to congratulate myself on a stroke of genius when JD ended his prayer, "Amen. Ha! I got 3 extras. Top that!" After which Nix proceeded to add 5 things to hers. On the one hand, they were thinking through things and really had nice long prayers, but on the other prayer is not a competition! Time for yet another talk.
We've been on a good run lately with the exception of the night Nix prayed for rain and JD prayed for no rain. That night added the no contradicting each other clause. I'm starting to really understand how the Jewish law grew from 10 simple commandments into the rather lengthy combination of Levitical law, Mosaic law, and tradition. Maybe those children of Israel were just as competitive with each other as the children of our house.
One kind of cool thing has come of this though. Being picked last at prayer time is a place of honor in our house. So, if you are a guest and are picked last to pray it means that the kids want you back tomorrow so that you can lead prayer time, and choose the order.  JD has tried to use this as a tactic to get grandparents to stay an extra day.

Jesus Pictures Creep Me Out

First of all, I have had several friends forward me a link baiting me to post on something specific, and I can resist no more. There has been a new book released based on the miniseries "The Bible", and it isn't THE Bible. So, a show based on a book has written a book based on the show that is already based on a book. Pretend for half a second that we aren't talking about the holy word of God here. Say you love the show "Sherlock" and you would really like to read more about the main character. Do you hope someone writes a book series based on the show, or do you maybe pick up The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes which is the original work? See, even when you take God out of the equation it is still completely silly. They don't even credit the original work! The book cover actually says, "Based on the epic tv miniseries". When I said that the book was better than the movie, this is not the book I meant.

(see Amazon listing here)

Now that is out of the way, on to my strange title. I'm not watching "The Bible" show. I didn't see The Passion movie either. There are a few reasons I could point to for excuses, but the truth is depictions of Jesus creep me out. It's not him. We don't know what he looked like. We have stereotypical images of what people kind of hope he looked like, but they are all based on some regular person's features. Then there is the voice problem. For the rest of my life when I read a Harry Potter book Dumbledore will sound like Michael Gambon. Frodo will always sound in my mind like Elijah Wood. It is just how our brains work. Isn't it bad enough that Moses sounds like Charlton Heston? When I'm reading my bible and I get to the red letters I don't want to be thinking about the Count of Monte Cristo. Maybe my brain attaches to these things worse than others, or maybe I'm just crazy for letting it bother me. Either way I don't think I'm likely to change my mind. When I stand in judgement before God one day my thoughts will not be, "I thought he'd sound more like Morgan Freeman."

I Don't Buy It

In case you haven't heard, the internet is blowing up with anger over Victoria's Secret's intent to market to middle school girls. You can read details here at The Black Sphere. The VS facebook page is overflowing with people declaring their intent to boycott. Many people are wondering why they would think this was an acceptable marketing plan. As the mom of a middle school girl, I can tell you exactly why they thought it was a good idea. Every time I see a girl walking into school with that PINK logo on their clothes, I know. There are parents who allow their middle school girls to shop at VS. I wish I could say it was just one naive parent who doesn't realize how much the word pink written on the back of pants says, but it's not. It is a whole group of people who would rather write their kids a blank check than sit down and have an honest talk about why the world tries to sexualize them. They don't want to have to put their foot down over a pair of yoga pants. Besides, they look cute in them, right? I have heard that rational way too many times. I actually snapped one day and replied, "Pedophiles think it's cute, too." I was not a popular mom that day. They didn't want to look at it from that point of view. As a parent, it is our job to consider that point first. This is why I'm not too concerned about VS and their marketing plans. My middle school girl isn't allowed to set foot in their store. She isn't allowed to wander around the mall unsupervised. She doesn't buy clothes without consulting me. I didn't make a rule about this. I set a pattern from the start, and she accepts that it is how our family works. Maybe she'll test these boundaries later, but she has made it through middle school without once pushing this limit.
The funny thing is, the world at large has been marketing VS to middle schoolers for sometime now. This new campaign doesn't actually change much. Parents like me will still not shop there. Girls with permissive parents will still turn a blind eye. If you really want to make a difference, start in your own home. Don't just stop shopping at places like this, cancel the catalogs, block the swimsuit editions, stop getting the magazines promoting this attitude. Talk to your kids about the real meaning of words like "sexy" and "provocative", and why they should never, ever apply to children. We can not control what the rest of the world promotes, but we can control what we let into our homes.

I hope I get lice! ?

I was in the grocery store today, and a Passover display caught my eye.  I stopped to look at the seder plates and different food items they had there. Then, I noticed a few things marked for entertaining children. I won't go so far as to call them toys.

If this had not been $11 someone would have found it in their stocking this year, probably my brother. I have to hand it to them, at least they are trying to make the real meaning of Passover fun... interesting... um, on a child's level? What do we have at Easter? Chocolate bunnies. That has absolutely nothing to do with resurrection. Then I saw this.

"But Mom, Sarah got to be locust last year. I want to be the locus. Why am I always the first born? I don't like playing dead. Can I just be boils?"
Who thought of this? A better question might be why do I want to go back and buy it? It gets funnier the more I look at it.
This leads well into a funny conversation I had with JD the other day. He noticed an advertisement for The Bible miniseries. He asked if I had been watching it. I told him no. I haven't taken the time to research who made it, what their take on things is, etc. Then he says, "They probably added a bunch of violence to keep people interested." I laughed, and explained that they's be hard pressed to get half of the violence in the Bible past censors. I don't often think about it, but the Bible is an incredibly violent book. Plagues, wars, deaths, beheadings  and lets not forget crucifixion. It is not for the weak of heart. I don't think JD had ever stopped to think about it that way.
Passover starts next Monday. We will be taking time out as a family to go over the history behind Passover and remind the kids and ourselves of the violence we all escaped thanks to the blood of Christ.

Why Don't We Share

This morning at church our pastor shared his personal testimony. I don't think I have ever heard a pastor tell the story of his own life in full like that. It struck me how intensely personal so much of it was. I, and all the others in the service, really know who he is now on a much deeper level than before. That is a might big wall to tear down before another person, let alone a few hundred. It left an emotional impact on me. I wanted to hear more, and it also clarified something about myself that I've sort of struggled with.
Have you ever had someone come up to you and say something like, "Do you know Jesus?" Did you cringe inside and smile and nod for fear of provoking an avalanche of crazy? I've always felt a little guilty that my first impulse is to run from people who approach me like that, but now I get it. They have asked me something incredibly personal while giving me nothing personal of their own. God is personal. How can you share about Him without first being personal yourself?
I am a reasonably introverted person. Although I am very open in my blog and on Facebook, I very rarely show that same level of openness in person. I've always kind of wondered why I have trouble witnessing to people in person. I've shared here before and through other sites, but when it comes to outright speaking to people I freeze up. I think it is because I am just not naturally wired to be that personal with people I don't know. On the other hand, sharing online has enabled me to make connections that wouldn't have happened otherwise.
I realized that it is actually very important that we not only share our testimony with people we fear are lost, but it is also important to share with other believers because it forms a bond, a love, and a kinship. Typically when you get a new member of your family you don't have to ask how they got there. They marry in, are born in, or are otherwise brought in with some form of fan fair. It is different when we enter into the family of God. We all got here in a different way, at a different age, and for different reasons.
I guess the main thing I'm saying is that if I haven't personally shared the most important part of my life with you, I'm sorry. I'd like to. Ask me any time. If you do have questions about life, death, eternity, or God in general, I'm more than happy to talk with you. If I can't answer your question, I'll find someone who can. If you just want me to pray for you, I can do that, too. Just because I don't stop you and ask "Do you know Jesus?" doesn't mean I don't want to know and share.

Responsible Parenting

Ever since Nix turn 13 I've been slowly going through all of the "Oh, you have to see this movie" list with her. It has been really fun to watch some of these movies with her for the first time. I love introducing the next generation to beloved classics such as Back to the Future, Buckaroo Bonzai, and Drop Dead Gorgeous. Maybe "beloved classic" is an overstatement on a couple of those, but definitely important to properly warping your child's sense of humor.
Speaking of warping your children, the topic of James Bond came up the other day. I don't think I'm ready just yet to start Nix on those, but when she does she will start with Sean Connery. Starting with any other Bond would be like watching Star Wars Episode 1 before you've seen 4, 5, & 6. You just can't do it that way and really appreciate the series. Just imagine if your first Bond had been Timothy Dalton, and how that would have changed your whole perception of the franchise. I can not do that to her.
One thing I am debating has to do with Keanu Reeves. No matter what that man does for the rest of his life I will always first see him as Ted Theodore Logan. I am okay with that, mainly because I am not really much of a fan of his in general, but do I inflict that same curse on my child? Do I show her Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure before Speed, before The Matrix, before Point Break? Do I want my daughter to grow up where Keanu is Neo instead of Ted? After a little research I realized that Bill & Ted is the only one of those that isn't rated R, so that betters the odds that my daughter will first learn to "be excellent to each other" before she decides if she wants the red or blue pill.

Since I am on the topic of watching movies from our youth, I need to put out a little warning. You might want to rewatch a movie before you show it to your kid. It turns out that most of my favorite movies from my teen years had been edited heavily when I first saw them. A few to watch out for are The Karate Kid (original), Ferris Bueller's Day Off (yikes!), Stand By Me (no wonder my parents didn't let me see it), and Gremlins. I was kind of hoping to show Nix the Die Hard and Lethal Weapon movies, but I don't think I am old enough to watch those unedited yet. I'm starting to think Mel Gibson's backside was in every 80's movie, even the ones he wasn't in.
What are the movies you can't wait to show your kids? I may need to expand our list. After I show her Goonies, I think I've run through all the good ones.

Word Extraction Request

Today people have been asked to "spread the word to end the word". Now, usually I am a big proponent of increasing one's vocabulary, however there are a few words that really need to go the way of sagittipotent. The word we are requesting be expunged is "Retarded" and all variations thereof. It doesn't matter if you are using it about yourself, in a medically correct manor, or just out of habit. You need to let it go. For too long it has been used as an offensive term to the point that it can not longer be used without being wrong. Please don't act like this is an odd request, or even something new. There are a lot of words that in the past were used to describe one thing and turned into swear words. Just to name a few, there is the other word for donkeys, female dogs, and the way British people request to borrow a cigarette will get you punched in most biker bars in the U.S. Don't even get me started on the hideous "N" word. So, why is this word any different? It is mean, and not just to the person you are hurling it upon. It is cutting to anyone around you whose lives have been touched by some form of disability. If you attempted to turn other medical issues into an insult, you'd be flogged. Can you imagine someone saying, "You are just a chemo brained looser!"? What kind of jerk would say something like that? Well, in reality saying, "Sometimes I am so retarded" is not any different than saying "Sometimes I am so diabetic" when what you really mean is that you haven't eaten in a while and have gotten kind of irritable. The only difference in those statements is that one is something you hear far too often and the other seems insensitive.  Guess what? They are both insensitive! There are a hundred other ways to say what you mean. There are thousands of words you could use instead that are not degrading to others. Pick one.
If you need more convincing, here is a link to what my friend Tiffany had to say about it.
End the Word Day
She is one of the hardest to offend people I have met. So, if she says it is offensive, it must be bad. :)

* In case you were wondering, "sagittipotent" means someone who is a good archer, and the word is not recognized by spell check. Wouldn't it be nice if our generation could make "retarded" unrecognized by spell check?

This is why people don't trust doctors

"So, how was your Valentine's Day?", is often asked of me with hesitation because everyone knows I'm cursed, and that I have well documented it. I set my bar low now. I always hope to reply, "I've had worse." I have had worse than this year, but it just wouldn't be fun if I didn't share this year's frustration.

Many days ahead of time, I got a migraine. That is nothing new for me. I tried all my usual tricks to end it, but with no luck. On the 13th I broke down and went to the doctor. At this point I had been trudging through for 5 days. There is a very simple old school pain medicine that I have been taking for about 8 years that works really well for me. I take one, go to sleep, and wake up back to my regular self. Usually the doctor gives me 30 pills and it lasts me about 2 1/2 years. I've been out for a few months now and managing fine, but it was clearly time for a refill. I made an appointment and went among the sick and contagious under the extremely bright fluorescents  braved a world full of smells to hear a chirpy little PA tell me that they don't prescribe that medicine anymore because it rarely works on migraines. I tried explaining that it has worked on mine for 8 years, but she wasn't having it. Then she tells me of this magical land of migraine medication outside of the one I had tried with a horrible reaction. By now the glaring lights and smell of disinfectant had gotten to me, worn me down, and I agreed to try something new. I just wanted to stop hurting and really didn't care what did it. From there I went to the pharmacy with a lighter step hoping that relief would soon be mine. I asked the pharmacist how much this new wonder drug was going to cost me. Please keep in mind that my old medication cost me $10 for 30 pills that lasted over 2 years. My new script that might not even work was for 10 pills. I know the pharmacist kept saying numbers after the words "three hundred", but I couldn't tell you what they were because I think I had a mini stroke or maybe blacked out with rage.
After I fought off the urge to return to the doctor's office with a box of matches, I calmly called the nurses line and left a message explaining why this would not work for me. She called back and suggested the drug that I had already had a bad reaction to (eye twitching). Since the nurse can't control what the doctor prescribes she said she'd have to talk with them and get back to me. That didn't happen for a full week, well beyond the "too little, too late" mark. Instead I took an over the counter medication which took the edge off long enough for me to sleep, but comes with an ugly price for my stomach the next day.
I awoke Valentine's Day with my head still hurting, my stomach singing me the song of it's people (a song that demands the acoustics of the bathroom), and a general bad attitude because once again a doctor had refused to listen to common sense (don't mess with what works) and left me in pain for yet another day.
Three days after Valentine's I agreed to attend a banquet for church teens and parents. It had a Valentine theme, but it was three days later and included kids. Surely this would be okay. Yeah, not so much. Rocky waited a full week and a half to get the cold the rest of us had already recovered from. He had almost no voice and a general feeling of being run over by a truck. Pitiful really. I hate it when he feels bad. I also hate that the kids were already set on going and I went to the banquet dateless. The topic of the talk that night was dating, not my best subject. I gave Nix permission to date twice as many guys as I did. For some reason she wasn't excited by that. Probably because she is good at math and knows that still only equals 2.
It turns out that Rocky had just forgotten to take his allergy medicine for awhile, so he is fine now. All in all, it wasn't bad. A little pain, some sniffles, and memories of my dateless teen years is pretty good in comparison.
Please laugh. I did. It is just another year of weird, out of our hands, bad Valentines.

Father/Daughter Pictures

I am working on my last big project before my job ends. It is a father/daughter dance, and while the vast majority of them are precious, there are a few issues I am seeing come up that need to be addressed. I know that the number of fathers reading my blog are few and far between, but maybe the next time the man in your life is headed to one of these things you'll remember to give him these tips. You have no idea how much I'd love to have pictures to go with some of these, but seeing as how I still have a paycheck coming to me and I really don't want to get sued, you'll have to use your imagination.
~When ordering pictures most men don't know how many of what to get. There is a simple answer for this. You want one for your daughter's bedside table and one for your desk at work or your bedside table. This lets your daughter know that the night meant as much to you as it did to her.
~It can be very sweet for you to put your arms around each other, but please leave your outside arms to the side. Everything else looks weird and sometimes even creepy. Never ever put your hand in your pocket with your thumb hanging out. That is just sad.
~Slightly angle your body to the camera. You are probably at least twice as wide as your daughter no matter how thin you are. The angle will cut down on how that difference is seen. If your daughter is wider than you, bless her heart, let her be the one to angle. If you both angle it will become creepy again.
~Your smile should express joy and pride. If there is even a small chance that your smile makes you look like a polygamist cult leader, someone who might be featured on "To Catch a Predator", or Jack Nicholson then please don't smile. Just have a pleasant look on your face.
~Know that the photographer will use the best picture of your daughter. If she blinks in every picture except the one you are sneezing in, if you are lucky you'll get an editor like me who cares enough to fix it, and if not, well, get use to people snickering and saying, "Bless you" when they see it sitting with pride on your desk.
~Get your picture made before either of you eat or has their face painted.
These next few are not necessarily picture related, but important things I've noticed because of the pictures. 
~Do wear a coat and tie
~Do either make your tie match her dress or wear the last tie she picked out to give you
~Do get her a wrist corsage (those can be take off if they bug her and don't leave pin marks)
~Do dance with her
~Do open her door, hold her chair, and treat her like a lady because then she'll expect that treatment from future dates thus making it more difficult for her to be happy with a jerk.
~Do make sure to take your wife on an equally nice date within the month and treat her like a lady because she is someone's daughter, too and he probably taught her not to be happy with a jerk. Also, she should know you love her most.

Spreading the Weird to the Next Generation

It is not like me to listen to pop music on the radio, but during the election I found my usual talk radio was stressing me out. I've been surprised to find some new artists that I really enjoy. I like Adele and fun. and have heard most of the songs nominated for a Grammy this year. Being that this is something new for me and how prone I am to snarkiness, I can't help but poke fun at some of the music played, especially when the lyrics are hard to understand. My favorite that I've joke about is the Maroon 5 hit "Moves Like Jagger".  It lead to a fun conversation with Nix.
Nix: Okay, you're right. I can't hear the "v"
Me: I win! Adam Levine has the "moos"!
Nix: Wait. Adam Levine, like The Voice judge Adam?
Me: Yes. This is Maroon 5, he is the lead singer, this is what he sounds like when he sings
Nix: (making a face like she smelled bad cheese) But his voice is so....
Me: High?
Nix: Yeah, and kind of....eh
Me: Well, honey, that is what hipster guys in skinny jeans sound like
Nix: I just thought he'd sound...
Me: Pretty like his face?
Nix: Well, yeah, sort of
Me: It almost never works that way
Nix: (still making the face) You know, he has a lot of tattoos
I just smiled knowing that there was now one less teenage girl in the world sighing over skinny rockers. That, combined with adding to the number of people who have joined me in claiming to have a cases of "the moos", made my day a little brighter.
Normally, when I talk about a song I link to it, but if you haven't already heard the song I'm not going to be held responsible for introducing it to you.
Instead, please enjoy Adele Chasing Penguins (I was go disappointed to find out it was "pavements" instead of her running after cute black and white birds)

Our Facebook Contract

The mom who wrote a contract before giving her son a smart phone is everywhere right now. If you haven't seen it, google "Janell Burley phone contract". It is brilliant, and it gave me an idea. Ever since Nix hit the magic teen years, I have been debating on if and when to let her on Facebook. The debate rages on, but this contract made me think through all the things she would need to know BEFORE I let her loose in the world of social media. She will be forming her digital footprint, and that is something no generation of parents before have had to address. There is no possible way for a teen to really grasp all that means without guidance. So, with the help of friends, I am pleased to present

I understand that these rules and guidelines are set up formy protection and not because my parents do not trust me. Untrustworthy children are not allowed to have accounts at all. Therefore, if I violate one of the following, I understand that my account will be deleted and other privileges will be revoked.

• I agree to only have one account
• My parents will have the password to that account at all times
• I will not friend ANY person more than 4 years older than me without prior permission from a parent. I am aware that this includes people from church, ballet, teachers, and even family. Also, I understand that my parents reserve the right to unfriend from my account anyone they deem to be posting inappropriately
• I will not friend ANY person that I have not first met in person more than once
• I will not post any pictures of myself that could be considered revealing, suggestive, or embarrassing by my grandparents' standards
• I will not post or share things that are offensive, suggestive, have foul language of any kind, or otherwise might cause my grandparents to be disappointed in me
• I will not willfully exclude my parents from things I post. If they can’t see it, no one should
• Cyber bullying is ALWAYS wrong. It will not be tolerated. If someone is bullying me, I will tell my parents and block the offenders. If I witness others being bullied, I will tell my parents and block the offenders,even if it is a friend. If I am bullying someone else, I understand that my mother will punish me as severely as she would want a kid who was bullying me to be punished, and my account will be deleted.
• I will not post anything publicly.
• I will not alter my security setting without specific permission, unless it is to make them stricter due to new privacy policies

I also agree to the following terms, which if violated will result in a warning, followed by a temporary suspension of use on the second offense, and possible deletion with future offenses

• I will not install apps without asking first. Apps are how companies get your information and it allows them to post things to your friends and on your wall using your name. This is why people think they get hacked all the time. If I have to “Allow” a page access, I have to ask first.
• If I wouldn't say it to someone’s face then I won’t say it online.
• I will not announce major life events to my parents via Facebook. This includes, but is not limited to, being “in a relationship”, picking a college, and physical alterations
• I will be respectful of other people’s digital space. I won’t post spammy things to walls, tag people repeatedly, or make other people’s business public.
• I will keep my drama off my Facebook page. Everyone doesn't need to know when I have fought with my brother, what teacher I think hates me, or how unfair I think life is treating me.
• I will ask my parents before I “like” a business or group page. Not all of those are legitimate or worthy of trusting with my personal information
• I will let my parents know of any groups I am added to or create
•  I will not post location statuses, and especially will not tell people when we leave town. You never know who might be stalking you
• I will ALWAYS be mindful that my words are my witness, and by putting those words online I am making a permanent record of my character.

You might notice that I didn't ask my child not to disappoint me, but instead played the grandparent card. This is because I know a day is coming when disappointing me doesn't hold the same weight as it might today. However, I have seen grown men brought to their knees by the idea of getting a call from a grandmother saying, "We need to talk about your behavior."
Most of the listed items are things I follow myself. Before you let your child on any social media site you need to learn the ins and outs of their privacy settings. Cyber threats are a new animal, and perhaps the scariest threat to our children yet. Be safe and educate yourself so that you know what to warn your children about. 

Hair Raising Day

I've been growing my hair out for Locks of Love. I went to get my unruly mane trimmed today to spur its growth and keep it healthy. When it was brushed out and measured, I had right at the required 10 inches without it being too short, so I went ahead and had it cut. I'm still adjusting. I feel lighter, and free.

Since this was an in the moment thing, I don't have fancy before and afters. I handed Nix my phone and had her make quick shots.

Here is the before. Please keep in mind I thought I was going to have it done. It had just been in a ponytail seconds before and is wilder than what I normally let it be. Okay, here goes

And now for the after. I'm not ready to change my profile picture yet, but I do like it. 

This will probably be the last time I donate. The grays are creeping in, and the time it takes to mess with it all are both major deterrents now. I think I'll leave the hair growing to Nix from now on. I wonder how long it will take for me to stop doing a double take at my own reflection. 

Unintentional Traditions

When our daughter was tiny and not to be trusted with things that break, I bought this:

This is the wonderful Fisher Price Little People Manger. Mine looks a little different because it is a much older model, and somehow the white fluffy lamb from the set was swapped out for the black sheep from either the farm or Noah's Ark. Several years ago I handed down our vast Little People collection to a family friend, but the manger stayed with us. This is also why there are less animals with it than in years past.
I really thought that at this point in our lives that we would have a "real" nativity again, but I think the kids would rebel. They still love this set. They can touch them , pick them up, and add their various stuffed animals and littlest pet shops to attend the party. Again, aren't we past this phase? Nope.
I am pretty sure that this will be our nativity scene for the foreseeable future. I'm okay with that. I have decided that it is a great illustration for how accessible Jesus' birth made God to us all. One of my friends' little girl steals borrows the baby Jesus each year from their's and carries him in her purse or pocket, and wants to cuddle him in bed each night. How cute is that?! I love the symbolism of having Jesus with us at all times. It is a simple, kind of silly, example that opens the way to explaining Christ's love for us and how we can carry Him with us always.
In case I don't post again,
Merry Christmas to all!

We are about to do science(ish)

Tonight was Nix's science fair. Do you remember when science fairs were all baking soda volcanoes and potato clocks? Ah, the good old days. Now you read about kids advancing cancer research and what not. It has gotten a bit out of hand, but what else is new, right?
Nix and her two partners based their project on the theory that a teenage girl's self esteem would be positively affected by seeing retouched pictures of herself in they same vein as what they do to models in magazines. The idea was spawned out of Nix's hatred of school picture day. Since I work with a photographer on photo editing, she knows what a difference it can make. You make a picture of a girl when she is at her most awkward age, skin messed up, and still learning what to do with girl hair, and then you wonder why she has a poor self image.
To sum up the results, the girls who said that they're self image was affected by pictures they see of women in the media had an increase in their self esteem after seeing their own pictures altered. Also, many of the girls were shocked to see themselves significantly altered in the last phase of the experiment. It actually made a few girls sympathetic to models who have their own images manipulated on a regular basis.
The board turned out fantastic. The girls picked a great color theme with lots of sparkle, and chose a peacock mascot named Monty to really draw the eye. It seemed to be getting a lot of attention from students and parents tonight.

Nix learned several non-science lessons.
1. In the end, the flash and show of the project board counts more than the work. The teacher warned them of as much when they started. I've done a tiny bit of research and I'm not sure this philosophy extends beyond our school and might explain why they do not have a good track record at regionals. There is just a touch of irony to all of this since her project is about getting girls to stop looking at the falsely perfect images and feeling bad about themselves.
2. For better or worse, you will know your partners a lot better by the end. Sometimes good friends make for good work partners and sometimes it is a disaster. For the most part, she got the better end of that, but there were certainly moments.
3. Find each member's strength and use it. If someone isn't pulling their weight, work around them and find something that occupies them.
4. Sometimes good work gets overlooked because a person doesn't know how to present it. Other times, mediocre work gets praised because it is in a pretty package. It was their goal to have both the solid work and the shiny package  for this project.
5. If you tell a waitress that you just won a spot in the regional science fair, she will give you free dessert.
That is right, they won! The school gets to pick 10 projects out of the 200+ to go, and their's was one of them. We are proud and a little stressed that it still isn't over for us, but mostly proud.
Last night I was a little on edge with all the last minute putting together and in my late night loopiness I started a poem that I want to edit and little and post here as a reminder of all the fun.

'Twas the night before the science fair, and all through the place,
people were stressing and giving new lines to my face. 
No one was nestled or snug in their beds, 
while visions of data floated through their heads. 
While I in my flannel and her still in tights,
 organize papers and tried not to have fights.
 When up in the office there arose such a clatter,
 I sprang from the couch to see what was a matter.
Away up the staircase I flew in a flash,
Stubbed a toe on the doorframe and gave my knee quite a bash 
The dew on the forehead of the young teenaged girl
 told me immediately trouble soon would unfurl. 
When what to my wondering eyes should appear, 
but a finished display board and nary a tear. 
With a little blue peacock whose feathers were thick,
I knew in a moment that it would just do the trick.

Alright, that is enough for now. If they make it past regionals in February maybe  I'll add 3 stanzas and throw in a song and dance to go with it. No promises though. 

In sickness and in sickness

OR "Why there will be no photo card from us this year"
This has been a terrible Fall for our house health wise. Rocky and I got some of the earliest cases of flu this year. True it was not confirmed flu, but if your entire body hurts from your hair to your toes, you run a fever for a week, and have no energy for two, chances are good that it was the flu. Then, we went to what we have affectionately deemed "The Corn Maze of Death". The entire house was sick from that one. Rocky had one of his worst breathing episodes ever. Most recently we were hit with the plague. Actually, plague is not strong enough a word for this stomach virus. They have a cure for the actual plague now. For the stomach virus you wait for that hour to come where you are pretty sure death doesn't feel as bad, and then when that passes you set fire to everything you touched in the past week praying that you have killed it with fire. Okay, I'm a bit melodramatic, but I'm still in recovery. Unfortunately, Rocky and I broke the vow of in sickness and in health by getting it at the same time (hence the title). We were very lucky that my parents were in town for Nix's dance recital. I shudder to think what would have happened if they had not been here. I'm pretty sure that they were not as happy to be here as we were to have them, and I pray that good deed does go unpunished. How many times can you have a house guest, sleep or hide for most of their visit, and still end up with a frige full of food, clean laundry for everyone, and a house better than they found it?
Anyway, we are all mending once again and hoping that 2013 is a much healthier year. I was ever so slightly tempted to make a family Christmas picture this year anyway, but then I thought about the image of us in our sick clothes on people's mantles and reason prevailed. IF I send out cards I will promise two things. 1. I will wait until the house is totally well. If you think of a Mary when you see my card, I don't want it to be Typhoid Mary (or Mary Magdalene, but let's not go there). 2. It will not be a glitter bomb. I love, love, love getting Christmas cards and enjoy how different each one is from the next, but I have learned that there are certain people, whom I love and adore, whose cards I open over the trash can because I know the excessive glitter is coming. The cards are pretty, and I don't get upset by it. I'm just saying that a little "this contains 3.7 oz of glitter" on the envelope might be nice.
So, to sum up, we are better, and if you don't get a card from me this year it isn't because you didn't make the cut this time around, it is just because I love you too much to send an envelope that has been licked in my house.

I don't think that means...

If you did not automatically finish the rest of the sentence in my title then you have clearly not watched The Princess Bride enough times. I suggest you do something about that.
 Now on to the actual post.
A trend has been going around the middle school that really has Nix bugged. It is a silly little hand signal that the populars are throwing out in the hallways and pictures. She really just wanted to know what it meant. Because I did not have a very nice track record with middle school girls myself, I was a bit harsh and suggested she google "pathetic white girls trying to look cool throwing gang signs". Interestingly enough, that search resulted in the answer.

(my deepest apologies, but I thought an example was needed)

The girls think it means "what up". However, that is not what the international community sees it as. What use to be a "V for victory" and then became the "peace" sign, when done with the back of your hand facing out is actually pretty close to giving someone the middle finger in the UK, a few of it's former lands, and Italy. I personally found it an interesting story. The Brits were at war with the French (as usual in that day) and were using longbow men kind of sniper style. The French said that they were going to march in and cut their fingers off so they could no longer pull back a bow. The British started showing French their fingers backhanded as a niner-niner . There are more colorful ways of putting it, but I think you get my drift.
Now the girls at the school have added having their thumb out as they put up the backwards peace. Having grown up in the 'hood (Jackson folks may insert a laugh here, GA peeps- really compared to here it was rough) I was taught to never flash a sign you didn't know the meaning of. You might be singing "C is for Cookie", but to a gang member you are showing support for the Crips, and that is just not smart. So, know your signs or keep your hands in your pockets. The sign they are throwing is known as the sign for the Vice Lords, a nasty little latin gang that I don't think they actually want to be affiliated with.
The other reason you don't just randomly pick gestures is because there is a little thing called sign language. They have named pretty much every regular gesture out there. They are lucky with this one because it just means "3" sideways. (maybe their maturity level?) I have a friend who had a sign her family used for "bathroom" that turned out to mean something I can't even type without blushing.
I have told Nix that she should use her judgement as to if this is a trend she wanted to participate in or not, and that I appreciate her wisdom in seeking a meaning before joining in. It is probably safe to assume that much like her choice in not displaying the symbol of Nuclear Disarmament, she will not be throwing out any signs any time soon.
Lynn- shooting down seemingly harmless teenage trends and raising a kid who questions the origins of everything.

What did I say?

My dyslexia is working overtime tonight. Sometimes it does that when I'm sick or tired or sick and tired. The whole house is sick due to a very bad trip to a corn maze. What is in that dust cloud of death that hovers over those things? I've had the least amount of illness, which means that I've also had the most amount of work. I've scheduled a crash for Saturday morning, but in the mean time my dyslexia is taking advantage of my exhaustion. I was trying to read Facebook updates but after I mistakenly thought Dr. Kelly was telling the world about her odd bowel movements instead of a shopping trip (pop turned into poop, it's an honest mistake), and I replied to a friend in some sort of odd code that only made sense to other dyslexics (thank goodness she is), I decided to give up. Then I decided to blog about it. Sometimes reading all wonky makes life funny, sometimes it makes it frustrating, but it always makes life an adventure.
Last week when JD's spelling test came home there was a section where you had to pick the word in the sentence that was spelled wrong and then spell it right. It took me at least three read throughs to find even one. He is in the third grade, and the odds are good that I would fail his spelling test. Can you spell humbling? I can, with the help of spell check. JD had trouble with it too. Thank goodness he has Rocky to help him. He saw the problem with "We road down the street" with barely a glance.
There are two points to this post.
1. We are carefully monitoring JD's reading. I'm praying he hasn't inherited my fun little quirk.
2. Even when you are dyslexic and even when you are having a bad day, you can still write. I credit technology. I hate to think about how many things auto correct has grabbed, but I made it through, and even if there are still mistakes, I got my thoughts across. That is a win.

Nix is a ginger!

I guess since JD got his own post about his Halloween costume, then it is only right that Nix get one too. Usually she turns last season's ballet recital costume into something. We've had a great couple of years with it fitting into something awesome. This year's didn't lend itself to anything fun. Since JD decided on Doctor Who, Nix picked Amy Pond. She is really more of a Rose fan, but we already had most of the needed items for Amy hanging in the closet. Here is what we were going for.

The details:

red hair

leather jacket

long red scarf

plaid flannel type shirt

black tank top

jeans

boots

brightly painted fingernails

 

 

The only thing of that list that we didn't already have was the red hair. Since most of the costume is just regular clothes, Nix wanted to dye her hair to make it really official. She is 13 and not at all fussy when it comes to hair and makeup, so I decided to grant her request. I took to the internet to find out how to very temporarily dye her hair. The short answer is that there isn't one. I got warned off Koolade by a lot of people. We went to Sally and found a product called Jazzing. It seemed to be exactly what we needed. It washes out in 1 or 2 shampoos. The problem is that after letting it set you are suppose to shampoo it. That is shampoo #1, and guess what, it all came out. Supposedly if you have light hair it works much better, but on brown hair it did nothing. I should have known when I got a drop on the carpet and it wiped right up that it wasn't going to work. So, at 9 last night I made a quick trip to the drug store and bought a 28 day dye. It worked great. We are doing all the wrong things (not using the color booster, put it on wet hair, not washing with the dye friendly shampoo...) so it shouldn't last more than a couple of weeks at most...I hope.

Here is a split screen to show you how close we came.

 

 

We added a few minor details. Her nails are TARDIS blue, she is wearing the TARDIS necklace her uncle sent, and she has on a wedding ring, because Amy is after all a happily married woman. As she headed off to school today I reminded her not to fall for any guys dressed like the Doctor, but to look for the one dressed like a Roman solider (it's a very sweet story line thing). I also reminded her that Amy is referred to as "the girl who waited", because I'm her mom and it's not often I can sneak in that message in a fun geeky way. Tonight she'll add some hash marks to the back of her hands and arms (also a specific show reference). The school tends to frown on writing on yourself, so she thought it best to hold off on that little detail.

Each year her school picks a special cause and allows kids to come in costume on Halloween if they donate to that cause. This year they picked the Red Cross. It is great when you can do something fun and help others at the same time. 

Doctor (JD) Who

If your 8 year old son came to you and said that he wanted to be a doctor and dress like one for Halloween, you'd probably be thinking about surgical masks and scrubs, but not in my house. This year we introduced JD to the British sci-fi classic Doctor Who. We started with the modern versions. Although he did enjoy David Tennant, he found Matt Smith to be all possible definitions of awesome. It's not a big surprise. Smith's Doctor is charmingly goofy, much like my boy. So, I set about deciding how to turn JD into a mini Doctor.
Things needed from top to bottom:

 

1 red fez- no tassel (it is a rarely seen prop but an identifier)

1 bow tie (JD wanted red)

1 set of suspenders (also red)

1 slightly mismatched dress shirt

1 brown tweet jacket with elbow patches

1 pair of slightly short dark pants with cuffs

1 pair of dark socks and shoes

1 sonic screwdriver

All together it looks something like this:



We already had the pants, socks, shoes, and a blue and red striped dress shirt I found cheap at a consignment sale. The bow tie and suspenders were fairly easy as well. The site Dapper Lads had both and got them to me quickly. Think Geek has sonic screwdrivers. It was on JD's Christmas list, so we agreed that it could arrive a couple of months early. As it turns out my brother had already purchased one for him at Dragon*Con this year and, always wanting to support the next generation of geeks, he agreed to ship to him early.
Now comes the hard parts. The jacket and the fez.
The jacket turned out to be easier than I thought it would be. All it took was hitting the kid consignment stores and looking in the girl's section. I found this gem for $6.

Note the flower, metal buttons with rhinestones, and girly pockets. One seam ripper and a pair of pliers later, and we had one ungirly jacket. I found some wooden buttons to replace the old ones. There was some debate about switching which side of the coat the buttons went on, but that seemed like overkill. For the elbow patches I used simple brown iron on patches cut down to size.
The fez was really the only part I had to work for. Plain red kid sized fezs ( fez?,fezes?, fezon?, fezi?) are hard to come by in suitable costume price range. So, I googled it, and then ended up melding a few ideas together to come out with one that isn't perfect, but will do for Halloween.
The best help was found here. I ended up hand sewing the whole thing using the heavy duty needle that I use to sew ribbons onto Nix's ballet pointe shoes. I also didn't want trim or tassel, so the top is glued in to the inside of the fez instead of sewn to the outside. Like I said, not perfect, but workable. Here are a few fun action shots of that work.

And the finished product along with Nix who decided to be Amy Ponds, the doctor's traveling companion. We found all the parts to her costume in either her closet of mine. We threw in some hash marks on her arm, but not a lot because Silence is not often found in our home. We are temporarily dying her hair red tonight to make it more official. I'm a bit nervous about how that is going to go. The perfect accent to her costume also came from the uncle as an early Christmas present. It is a TARDIS necklace that really brings the whole thing together.

We got to try it out at a church thing Sunday night. JD was a huge hit with the teens and young adult crowd. He even had a few requests for pictures. The kids his age had no idea who he was dressed as, but that didn't phase him one bit. He told me that it was his favorite show, and 11 was his favorite doctor, so he wasn't going to let other kids not understanding keep him from being what he wanted to be. How did I get such a self confident kid?  

Mom jeans: fashion horror or family friendly

I was recently shocked to learn that I wear mom jeans. Can you imagine? A married woman, in her mid thirties, with children no less, wearing mom jeans. Oh the horror, or so the informative blog article told me. It seems the tides have turned and Old Navy and Gap jeans are no longer cutting it. There were pictures of a woman trying on various jeans, and indeed her posterior did look much better in the clubbing at 2 am jeans (that's the opposite of mom jeans, right?). Why should I care how my rear view is perceived by strangers? I want to look nice for my husband, I want to present myself as well groomed, but I am not looking to attract attention with my derriere. What kind of person is looking any way?  Do I really want to encourage this behavior?
One Sunday I was having a really bad ugly day. My hair would not do what I wanted, my clothes looked wrong, and makeup wasn't helping. In hindsight, I know it was my attitude of the day and not reality, but I felt hideous. We were running late for church and Rocky was trying to get me out the door. Almost to tears I said, "I'm just trying to look attractive."
He replied in a mockingly accusatory tone, "Who are you trying to attract?"
"Um,...you?"
"Good. Done. Get in the car."
That exchange changed my life. I now dress for comfort, to be pretty, and to present my best self, but never to be "attractive". If my best self is being sat on, than I've got bigger problems than mom jeans.
Out of curiosity I looked to see what these magic jeans would cost. What is the price on a glorious gluteus maximus ? The top two picks were between $98 and $198. Seriously? What kind of mother spends $200 on jeans just because the $25 ones at Old Navy have wide set long pockets? I need that width. I put my phone in my back pocket. I won't even pay full price for Old Navy Jeans!
I have decided that I am very content with my mom jeans. The sagging, the long zippers, and the dreaded pockets that elongate my back side are a badge of honor. They tell the world that my family come before fashion. My bottom is not more important than my bottom line. If you don't like the way it looks then stop looking. I am comfortable!

My Jewish Pajamas

We finally caved and turned our heat on for the nights this week, the bathroom space heater reappeared, and it is fuzzy socks and flannel pajamas time, too. I love having a nice (ish) pair of matching flannel pajamas. It makes them seem less ho-hum when there are little ice skating penguins on them. Since I am terribly hard to shop for otherwise, fuzzy warm things often appear for me under the Christmas tree. Last year I managed to actually make up a wish list for myself, which resulted in me not getting pajamas. I hit the after Christmas sales and got a great bargain on the only pair left in my size. After I got them home I realized that I had bought myself Hanukkah jammies. It's not like they have menorahs and Dreidels on them, but they are blue with white snowflakes that form doves. As I wondered if it was okay for a Baptist to wear Jewish PJ's, Rocky tried to tell me that articles of clothing do not have a religious affiliation. I had three words for him. Mormon. Temple. Apparel. Argument won, or at least left confused, which is sort of like winning.
Then the whole debate started of whether or not colors could be co-oped by a group. Obviously, since breast cancer is pink, the answer is yes.
After we settled that I was right, I decided to back up my thoughts with facts. Christmas colors are red to symbolize the blood of Christ and green to represent the everlasting love of God (evergreen- everlasting...). Blue is for vigilance, truth and loyalty, perseverance and justice. White covers peace and honesty. Those are the colors used on the flag of Israel, traditional prayer shawls, and as the colors of Hanukkah. An argument might could be made against Christmas colors (Constantine, pagans, the Saturnalia festival...), but the Hanukkah colors are pretty solid.
So, there you go. Useless fact of the day learned. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to put on my Jewish pajamas.

To Toss or Not to Toss

For the last day and a half this has been on my kitchen counter. (try to ignore the silly pumpkin in the background)

I'm not going to say who left it there because, although I do know who left this mess, all of us have issues cleaning up after ourselves. Usually we stay on the side of clutter and not actual trash. The jello crosses that line. It should have been thrown out right away. Everyone in the house is old enough to know better. I could have just tossed it myself when I first noticed it before dinner last night, but I was curious to see if the guilty party would take care of it, or if anyone else in my house would take notice and toss it. It is becoming a monument to a bigger problem.
If I ask one of the kids to clean off the table then more often than not they only clean off the part they feel responsible for with the excuse that is rest of it is "not my mess." I've been trying to stress that if I only cleaned up my own mess then we'd be living in a trashed house very quickly.
I have decided that tonight I am going to gather the family around the old jello to talk about our messy ways. I haven't decided yet how exactly we are going to fix the problem, but something has to change. I have decided that I will not be the one to throw out the jello. I'm very curious to see who does and how long it takes.

Qualified

I've posted everyday this week, so there was no way I was going to skip today. I just had to update you all about the big meeting. I am completely and totally in awe of how my whole day has unfolded. All week I have been readying myself to break down walls and instead found that the doors were already wide open. I was worried about feeling alone in the fight and I arrived to find an unexpected friend there to sit next to me. Instead of the feared half hour brush off, I got a two hour planning meeting filled with joy.
It didn't stop there. After the meeting I ran into a great source of hope. Then I was met with a great resource. Finally, I found confirmation that this was the right road for me to be on. All unplanned, all unexpected, all a great blessing. In all my years I have never seen mountains move like this.
There is so much work to be done and I'm sure a lot of stumbling ahead, but wow, what a start!
The other thing I wanted to share was that I found out why. What do I have that would put me here? It is simply, time. I have the time to put into this. I have the time to work on it. I have the time to learn and grow and hunt down what is needed. Far too often, and especially with this, the very people who need the ministry are the ones given the responsibility of creating it. We forget that the very reason for starting this is so that they can, for once, not have to fight and work and schedule. We wouldn't dream of asking the hungry to create a soup kitchen. Why, oh why, do we expect families with special needs to create their own program? Sure we need their help to get it right, and their input and assistance is invaluable, but it can not be on their shoulders. It has to land on someone who has time.
Thank you all for praying! I saw them working. I need them to continue.
For our next mountain moving project, please pray that the eyes, hearts, and minds of my church's congregation are open to this. The church has to embrace it for this to work. They are loving and welcoming people. I just need them to recognize that to the fullest extent.

Happy Re-birth Day!

It is that time of year again. I like to think that I show my faith regularly to all of you, but today is special. Today marks the day that I realized I sin like everyone else, and that my sin keeps me away from God. Thirty-one years ago, for the first time, I cried out for forgiveness and mercy, and I accepted that Jesus had died for that very reason. He traded places with me that day, and now I know that in spite of my sins and failures, when I stand in judgement before God, my slate will be clean because Jesus paid it all. It was the best day of my life by far, and easily the best decision I have ever made.
I am so very thankful that the adults in my life at the time did not brush me off or give me silly answers to my questions. I was just a few days from the 5th birthday. At that age people are usually still telling children pretty little stories that make angels sound like fairies and God is all double rainbows. There was so much talk of Heaven and eternity in my house because my grandfather was very literally on his deathbed. I remember sitting in church and the preacher giving a sermon from John 3. It wasn't the usual 3:16 that got me. It was Nicodemus asking Jesus, "What do I do?" My ears perked up because that was the biggest question on my mind. The simple and yet powerful answer was, "You must be born again." I felt like someone had finally answered the question that had been burning in me since VBS that year. It was a question I didn't even know how to ask. I remember telling my mom that I wanted to be "born again" I figured that she bore me the first time she'd probably know how to redo it. She asked me the important stuff.

Do you know that you sin (do stuff that isn't perfect and that hurts God)?

Do you understand that we can't be close to God because of those bad things?

Do you get that Jesus took our punishment for us by dying on the cross?

Would you like to be closer to God, have Him help you through life and move you through the Holy Spirit?

That was Jesus' gift to us and all we have to do is accept the present by praying. We tell God that we know we have done wrong and that our actions are what stand between us and Him. We don't want that roadblock any more. Thank Him for sending Jesus to take your punishment and tell Him that you are accepting that gift of unconditional love. There is no magic to it, no special words, no dance to learn or special hats to wear. You just agree and accept. Welcome the Holy Spirit into your life and watch Him work on you like He works on me.
After I accepted Christ as my personal saviour, my parents took me to the hospital and parked our car under the window of my grandfather's room. I was too young to be allowed up, so my mom went to tell him. My grandfather who was in the final days of lung cancer got up out of his bed and waved to me with joy and excitement that I will never forget. It was the last time I saw him. He died very peacefully just 5 days later. He died knowing that our separation was temporary and that I was taken care of. So, you see, my salvation was a present for him too. God's timing for me was perfect, and that is why I never question a 4 year old who says they want to be saved. I just tell them how it works.

(Sorry Mom, I'm going to try to stop making posts that make you cry. And thanks for answering my questions truthfully even though it wasn't the easy thing to do.)

Hyper-Aware

Since the start of October my facebook feed has been bombarded with posts about how October is (fill in the blank) awareness month. After about the 6th different topic I started wondering how aware I was expected to be, so I googled it. All total, I found at least 65 different topic that we are suppose to take note of this month alone. My favorites are the conflicting ones. For example this is vegetarian awareness month and also national pork month. So...eat greens with bacon in them?
I'm having a Princess Bride moment with the awareness. "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means." To become aware of something means that before today you were unaware of it. Of all the many, many topics I saw listed today the only one I had to look up was Rett Syndrome.
There were several topics, aside from the pork thing, that included me.
Dyslexia- aware of that one since childhood
Bullying- in high school I wore a Hard Rock Cafe shirt from the planet Vulcan, trust me I'm aware
Squirrels- saw one on the way to take the kid to school today
Cyber Security- my passwords are so complicated even I can't figure them out
Diarrhea- 3 words "Welcome to Moe's!" and I'm all caught up
Sarcastic- I'm sure no ones knows about sarcasm!
So, here is my request, if you want to post about your favorite thing to be aware of, please share one fact about said topic that most people would not have been aware of.
This is Down Syndrome Awareness Month. Did you know that roughly 90% of women who prenatal testing shows to be caring a child with this syndrome will elect to abort the baby? Furthermore, there are foreign countries now pushing this as a "cure". Because death is so much more evolved than when we sent children to live in an asylum (sarcasm, in case you weren't aware).
It is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Did you know that only 5-10% of women who get breast cancer have genetic predisposition to it? That is a fact that will wake a girl like me up.
And finally, it is Emotional Awareness Month. Scientists have discovered that emotions are contagious and that you can alter your mood by simply altering your facial expression. So, smile and fake it until you make it is a real thing.

The Unintentional Project (aka why I need your prayers)

A couple of weeks ago I posted a Facebook status that said, "Sometimes God sends opportunity to knock gently on your door, and other times He sends it to break down your door and drag you out by your heels while you scream 'You've got the wrong guy!" The latter would be a more accurate description of where I am right now.
It all started last year when a friend innocently asked me to read over a plan she had for starting a ministry at her church for children with special needs. While reading it I learned about the surprisingly large number of families who don't attend church because a member of that family doesn't fit the mold of a typical kid. There is a whole group of people, being unintentionally snubbed and that's not okay. You can find her plan on her blog Just a Little Muchier Muchness. It is pretty straightforward. There is nothing difficult about it. It just takes people willing to help.
Once I saw this need it was pretty hard to ignore, so I went to the leaders at my church with a good "you should do something about this attitude". This is not what happened, but it felt like they were looking back at me with smirks saying, "You are right. SOMEONE should do something". In the mean time we got a new children's minister, VBS came around, and there was the Awana's kick off. Then out of no where (ha!) I had, not 1, but 3 different families with different special needs children ask me where I went to church. Two of these are people I only know casually and never just run into them. I felt like God had decided that since I wasn't working to open the door, He was going to kick it down on me. ME? The girl who doesn't teach children because she is afraid of runny noses and kids who don't listen. Is He crazy? I am not in any way qualified. And then those words that haunt me flood into my mind. "God doesn't call the qualified. He qualifies the called."
I'm telling you all this because I have a meeting Friday morning with the children's pastor about getting the ball rolling. I am terrified. I'm worried that I'll mess up. I'm worried that I'm in over my head, which I totally am. But, most of all, I am terrified that my life is about to take a major change, and even though it is certainly for the glory of God, I'm not great with change, especially when it is out of my comfort zone.
I summed it up to my friend with every pregnancy cliché. I'm so excited, wait I'm going to throw up, shouldn't I have known more than this before I started, this is all your fault, is there a "What to expect" for this, pray for us!!!
Do not miss read this. I am excited about this. I am ready to get to work. It just feels a bit like waiting in line for a rollercoaster, and since the line is where I usually chicken out, I'm having to remind myself regularly why I am here. The kids, the families, and most of all, the moms who need someone from the outside to for once understand and do something to help.
So, yeah, here I am, standing in the need of prayer, hoping to help, and much more willing than I was a year ago.

Mommy the killer of dreams

My title is overly dramatic, but it is gray and rainy today which tends to bring out the melancholy in me.
When Nix was 6 I decided it was high time I started living vicariously through her, and put her in ballet classes. Luck for me and my inner child, she loved it. As the years have gone by she has gotten pretty good, made nice friends, and I've become rather attached to my fellow dance moms (they are nothing like the ones on tv). I was a little afraid that getting pointe shoes would put an end to her dancing. She isn't big on pain, and those things can be murder. Instead, it brought her to a new level of enjoyment. She wasn't that little girl in the pink tutu twirling to her own beat any more. Now she is a graceful young woman leaping with beauty. Up until this last Spring, ballet has just been a hobby, but after a taste of the spotlight this Spring, she wanted more.

Being a good supportive mother, I sought outside advice. I was informed by people who would know that Nix did indeed have all the raw tools needed to become a professional ballet dancer. The next step was looking into what it would take. I did my homework, and realized that if she was serious, we needed to get a move on. As a first step, I took her to some outside eyes to be evaluated. It was an eye opener for Nix. She actually did pretty well. It boiled down to, yes you can be a professional, but you need to increase the number of hours you dance per week, and sharpen your skills. In other words, her hobby needed to become her job. It was humbling and sobering for her.
She spent the weekend in deep reflection. I told her that she had the better part of the year to decide, but I could see that she wasn't going to let it sit. More than anything she wanted me to pull the mom card and tell her what to do, but I refused. I explained that it wasn't my place to tell her what to do with her adult life. It was my job to give her the tools to decide for herself. Boy, that was hard! I prayed, she prayed, we all prayed together. Last night after she was in bed and her lights had been out for awhile, she came down and wanted to talk. She told me that she is not going to stop dancing and loves ballet, but she no longer feels like it should be her career path. It is something she finds joy in, and if it became her job she would have to set aside joy for perfection. Professional ballet dancers will tell you that the joy is in the perfection, and since that isn't true for her, even though she has what it takes on the outside, she doesn't have what it takes on the inside.
She was a little sad, as was I. I am certain she has made the right choice. It just means she made her first adult decision about her life. She got realistic about "what I want to be when I grow up", and a little piece of her childhood slipped away.
I keep telling myself that I was supportive and was doing my best to give her every advantage in pursuing her dreams, but in doing so I killed her dream, and that hurts a little. I feel like I broke her, or at least the little girl part of her. I'm glad that she doesn't want to quit entirely, that would have been too much. I'm looking forward to her getting back to dancing for fun this week. It will take a lot of stress out of it for both of us.
Maybe her next career choice will be something that can wait to die until her junior year of college like a regular kid.

Clothes can also unmake the man

Last night Nix and her fellow 8th grade band members were invited to play with her future high school's band at a football game. She had a great time and met some really fun kids, but she was nestled into the band bubble. I had a chance to venture out and get a broader look at her future classmates. I wanted to make pictures of some of what I saw to post, but Rocky cautioned that the worst of it might qualify as child pornography. Let's just say, it was breast cancer awareness night, and I guarantee that no one left that stadium without being aware of breasts, and trust me when I tell you, it had nothing to do with everyone wearing pink.
Rumor has it that the "in crowd" can be pretty tough. As with every other high school in America since public school began, a lot of getting in with the in crowd revolves around what you wear. More specifically, the labels on what you wear and how little coverage you can get away with.
Now here's the funny twist. I realized I was sitting there making judgements about these kids, their intelligence, their extra curricular actives, their lack of parental supervision, etc. This brought me to a few conclusions. First of all, I don't want my daughter projecting the stereotypes that these kids were. Partly because the assumptions would be wrong, but also for her own personal safety.
Have you caught the irony yet? At least I think it is irony. That silly Alanis Morisette song about irony has clouded my ability to accurately spot it. Anyway, I was using clothes to judge the kids who will be judging my kid based on her geeky shirts and Old Navy jeans.
So here is the painful truth. We all make snap judgements based on first impressions, and although it is possible to overcome that, it takes time and effort from both sides. I'm sure there were some really nice, smart kids in the cool section, but they were excellent at camouflage. My daughter seems to be projecting a geeky good girl with over protective parents. I'm good with that, and she seems pretty happy with that, too. I think she is going to be just fine.