Why ya gotta be so mean?

I generally try to maintain a positive outlook on life. I am definitely a "glass half-full" kind of girl. When I relate the stories of my life to other people, it's generally with for others' amusement. I believe in laughing about what ails you because if you can't laugh about life's little problems, you run the risk of becoming bitter. Crabby. Angry. Mean.

It's a painful word, mean. When I hear it, I generally think of several things:
Mike Tyson.
School yard bullies.
People who catch butterflies.
My ancient fifth-grade teacher who used to pull our hair if we weren't listening.
In short, anyone who tortures another living being for pleasure.

My husband and I have had a running joke about me being the "mean mom." The mom who wouldn't let her kids ride their bikes without a helmet. The mom who makes them put away their own clothes. The mom who won't allow them to swim without adult supervision. Yep, that's me, definitely the mean mom.

And yet it still came as something of a gut-check recently to find out that I am, really and truly, the mean mom... in the eyes of a... teacher?

We were attending an information session at one of the kids' schools when I found myself feeling slightly under attack by one of the teachers. This particular instructor felt very strongly about the merits of a certain class. When I questioned what would happen if certain requirements were not met by my child, the teacher was clearly taken aback. Aghast, even, that I would dare to question my brilliant daughter's brilliant-ness. Now, let's be clear. She's a very intelligent kid. She's mine, after all. But as I like to believe that one's education should be well-rounded, I wanted to weigh how she would handle the extra demands of the particular class versus keeping decent grades in other classes in which she's not as well-versed.

The next day my sweet, smart, daughter came home and with a laugh, related that her teacher had said - in front of the class - that her mom was really mean.

Mean. Me. Zoinks.
The first thing I did was apologize to my daughter and make sure she understood that I have complete faith in her. I have no qualms about her taking the class but I wanted to make sure she could keep up with her work and still maintain some kind of life outside of school. She thought it very amusing. Since then I've debated - do I call the teacher and apologize for questioning her authority? Did I really and truly come across that badly? Did Taylor Swift write a song about me?

This happened several weeks ago and clearly it's still bothering me. I guess the most important person in this whole issue - my daughter - seems to be doing well despite my mean-ness. I did, in fact, agree to let her take the course in question and I expect she'll do fabulously.

Meanwhile, her current teacher just assigned another hundred notecards on top of all their other homework. No weekend fun for you kiddo!

 Hey Teach?  Why ya gotta be so mean?

The 12 Days of Christmas

All four kids are home from school for "Winter Break."

I like to think of it as "The 12 Days of Christmas" since they are getting exactly 12 school days off. Of course, only 2 of them were actually before Christmas proper, but since "Christmas" in our household continues until Epiphany (this year Jan. 8th), I think it's pretty appropriate. I'm trying not to add three weekend days to my count because then I would realize I actually have 18 days of trying to entertain and keep four kids busy.

Joy!

'Cause really, it is a gift to have them home all this time... really.

The past week has been spent preparing for Christmas and then enjoying their gifts. This is the easy part. Mostly. Today has been a whiny day as some of the luster is wearing off Kylie's Barbie Town House (With Toilet that Makes a Flushing Sound!) and nobody is at all interested in helping to clean up the detritus from Christmas morning. It is kind-of sad when you look at all the now-empty boxes and ribbon remnants littering the ground, but enough is enough and the mess has to go.

What you will not find us doing is actually taking down our decorations. It is, after all, still Christmas. I find it sad when friends say they've already boxed up their decorations and lights the day after Christmas. My interior adornments will stay until Epiphany. We did find it necessary to remove several lighted penguins from the front yard as they would not, could not, stay upright. I was tired of repositioning them every single day, only to come outside and find them belly-down on the grass like a bunch of drunk monkeys. The inflatable penguins, however, will stay at least until the weekend. 

The next order of business is deciding what to do for New Year's Eve. We used to be big party-givers until we started having kids. Even then we frequently had several friends over for late-night celebrations. This all ended around the year 2000, when our close friends were out of town and we were waiting for whatever craziness might ensue with the advent of Y2K (remember that phrase??) Obvious, nothing happened, and we came to label that night The Lamest New Year's Ever. 

Nearly 12 year's later, we are still celebrating The Lamest New Year's Ever, only now our four children all stay up to take part and we have developed some fun new traditions. The non-stop drinkfest of our younger days has been replaced with a fondue party. We attempt to play board games until somebody gets mad and quits (usually Kylie, but occasionally Keaton). and then we all fight to stay awake until The Ball drops. 

It's... fun. It is. I don't miss the drinkfests (okay, maybe a little), but we enjoy spending that time together as a family. 

And after that, it's only one more week till school starts up for the kids! I still haven't registered for anymore classes for me... maybe this will be my year? 

Last Minute Update... We are moving The Lamest New Year's Ever to St. Augustine this year! It might not be so lame after all!

A Guest Blog

A note from Bev...

A dear friend of mine recently posted on Facebook a very thoughtful and well-written essay about her son and his football career.  Laura is a busy mother of 5 children and I have always admired her ability to "do it all" so well! Her essay made me think about my word choices and assumptions I make about my own kids. Our lives change dramatically as our children get older; we find ourselves so caught up in the drama of parenting a teenager that sometimes we forget to just be proud.

I, personally, get tired of hearing how terrible “kids are today.” Most of the teens I meet are pretty darn good kids doing their best in a weird world. I think they’re awesome. And yes, I think Jonathan – and his mom – are pretty awesome too.  

By Laura Zanga

When our kids are young, it’s very easy to show them off and brag. As they get older, it becomes more difficult. It’s not that there are necessarily less things we are proud of, it’s we feel a little uncomfortable with talking about them to others. We don't want to come across as the boasting parent and God forbid we "one up" any of our friends kids.

Growing up I never heard my mom boast about any of us. It just wasn't her. She did, however, tell me once that she really didn't want to hear about other people's kids so why should she bore them with her kid’s little anecdotes? Fair enough, I suppose but at the same time why deny yourself that one little moment when you really have something special to share. That's just what I am going to do.

For the last 10 weeks I have sat in the stands watching my son Jonathan's team get beat every Friday night and for a mother sitting there week after week let me tell you it was rough. Five out of the 10 games they lost by a touchdown or less. Boys (including Jon) were playing both offense and defense some games because there wasn't enough players.

There were a few games I actually had to leave early because I just couldn't take it. One or two games I wanted to cry. Now I know that may seem silly and a bit pathetic to some. I get that, but when you have a son like mine who is quiet, never really expresses himself, it’s hard because you really don't know how much he hurts or how disappointed he really is. But, what he did show me these last 2 1/2 months is a kid with a lot of character, self-confidence and loyalty.

The past few years Jon has been banged up with bruised ribs, an injured hip that required therapy, and a concussion. But he never once complained, never once was late for practice and never missed a practice or game, even when he was hurt and couldn't play. What I saw was a kid that not only got hurt on the field but off the field as well (especially this past season) by his school mates and even some friends. I must admit even his dad and I made comments about the coach. His response to me was "mom you don't know him. He's good to us, takes care of the players and mom, he's a good Christian man."

Well, talk about putting me in my place. I've never said another word about his coaches again. If Jonathan gained nothing else from this whole experience, what he did gain was the privilege of being coached by someone he respected. I told Joe a few weeks back I wasn't going to miss this. I lied. I will miss very much seeing my kid run across the field, miss very much the talks about the next week’s game and seeing him all dressed up in his good clothes on game day. Even the smelly, muddy, practice clothes will be missed. I will miss it all because it was a big part of Jon's last 6 years and a big part of who my son is.

 The young Man he has become.

 I'm proud of you, Jonathan and I'm not ashamed to say it!

Ho Ho Ho!!

I always have a little bit of a chuckle at this time of year at how many people get so incredibly worked up about the early launch of the Christmas season.

"Oh no, the Christmas display is up at Wal-Mart!" they cry. "What about Thanksgiving?" they question. "I don't want to hear any Christmas carols yet!" they post on Facebook.

To which I say HO HO HO!!!

The Christmas season is a time of wonder, love and renewal. The birth of our Savior is the highlight to my year. It's also a time of special remembrance to me as I mark another year since the death of my wonderful daddy. I realized many years ago that I could choose to be sad or I could choose to honor his memory by squeezing every ounce of joy out of this blessed time.

You can bet I choose the latter.

The first time I see Christmas lights is always one of my favorite days of the year. I, frankly, don't see that anything gets taken away from Thanksgiving just because some stores are playing Christmas music already. Instead, what I see is an enlarged window of opportunity to enjoy a little of the warm fuzzies as we remember Christmases past. It does not lessen my thankfulness or thoughtfulness over the Thanksgiving holiday one bit.

I think of this small bit of Christmas celebrating before Thanksgiving as a bonus time. I can stop and enjoy the music without that slightly panicky-stomach-upset that I should be shopping, wrapping presents or stamping Christmas cards. Psychologically I know it would make my life so much easier to do it now rather than closer to Christmas, but the deadline-loving girl in me can't seem to get with that program. Since I won't organize and plan early for Christmas, I should revel in it now!!

Plus, since I think people in general tend to be nicer at Christmas-time, it certainly can't hurt to start a little earlier and hope that the niceties start earlier too. Sure, it would be great if everyone were nicer ALL year long, but I'll take what I can get.

So the next time you hear a Christmas song on the radio or see an early-bird light display, stop for a minute and just try to enjoy it.... please? You might find it puts a smile on your face!

Hugs & God Bless,
Beverly

What are your keys?

The Apology
So it has definitely been a long month since I've posted! I've thought of many, many topics to write about over the last few weeks but have been strapped for time to do them justice.

I thought maybe I could write at night, after the kids were asleep. When I was younger (hate that phrase), I painted entire rooms at 3 a.m.  But these days I find sleep is more of a commodity than ever before, and that trying to stay up late to get something done (like this blog), usually results in something not so great. It's hell to get old!

Moving On
 I watched a segment on The Today Show recently about women returning to work after being home with kids for 5-10-15 years. Now, I'm not entirely certain I'm ready to return to the workforce at this time but it sounded like an interesting segment and I'm glad I watched it. They interviewed two "experts" about some of the issues we face and how to prepare for the job transition. The experts were Sarah Brokaw, author of the book "Fortytude" and Pamela Mitchell, author of the book  "The 10 Laws of Career Reinvention."

One of the most important things I heard from both authors involved self-esteem. Brokaw said that women returning to the workforce need to get their confidence up. “There’s always going to be three key strengths you can develop and hone," she said. Her advice was to figure out what those strengths are at home, and then bring them into the workforce. At the very least, you can remind yourself of what those three key strengths are before you go into an interview situation.

This got me to thinking about what my own three key strengths might be... and that this is a great exercise for anyone, particularly those who are going through some sort of transition. When you've been working in the same job or doing the same thing for many years you can sometimes lose sight of what you are best at doing, and it's important to keep that in the forefront of your psyche. In my particular case my job is being a mother, so I'm going to take some time over the next few days and figure out what my three key strengths are as a mother. I'd love for you to think about this subject and figure out your own key strengths and, if you're comfortable, sharing them! I promise I'm not trying to go all Stuart Smalley on you, I just think it's important not to allow our own sense of humility to sabotage our efforts to grow.

I haven't had time, yet (hah!) to read Sarah Brokaw's "Fortytude" but it's definitely on my list! If anyone has read it, please let me know what you thought of it.  I'll be posting a little review on it sometime soon!

Hugs & God Bless,

Beverly

Photography 101

I had a hard time wrapping my head around the collegiate process this summer and decided to feed my inner creative genius instead (hah!). When a friend asked me to take a photography class with her at a local art studio I thought, yes, this is my way in! I'll get back in the mode of attending a class regularly while I learn more about something I truly enjoy.

During my newspaper reporter days many many moons ago, we were frequently responsible for taking our own photos to accompany our stories. This was back before the advent of digital photography and even before color photos were de rigueur in most newspapers. We would shoot whole rolls of film of people and events and then, upon developing, discover that we had maybe one or two pictures that would actually help tell the story and print well. I never considered myself to be a "good" photographer; perhaps, "adequate for the task at hand" is more appropriate. Occasionally I would luck upon a Really! Amazing! Photo! and this would excite me enough to believe I was a good photographer... until the next roll of film was developed and found to contain the usual not-so-great.

My husband actually studied photography and has an awesome, hidden portfolio of beautiful work. He would occasionally offer tidbits of knowledge to attempt to help me improve but it was usually easier to simply drag him along with me and point out the things I needed him to photograph. This early habit has evolved over the years of photographing our kids and their lives along the way. This also leads to lots of irritation on my part when I can envision a certain shot but can't communicate to him exactly what I want.  "Honey, get a shot of Kennedy skating. No, not there, over there... no, I want her mid-spin, not mid-jump... no, I want to see her skates, not just a blur..." and on and on and on.

So for the past six weeks I've made my way to Crealde Art Studio in Winter Park to learn how to use the expensive digital camera we bought two years ago and to remind myself of the joy in doing it myself. And to experiment with photography for art's sake.

The first thing I've learned is that I still excel in finding ways to be late to class. Fortunately, this is the kind of arena where you don't get marked off for being tardy. I'll have to rein that in when I go back to school "for reals."

Another wake-up call was made when I tried to carve out the time to do my "homework." I can tell that when I take more challenging coursework that I'll have to find a better system to be more organized about this process. We have an entire week between classes and yet I still find myself running out the day before class to find something to photograph and complete my assignment. It makes it hard to yell at my kids about procrastination when I'm downloading my shots at midnight the night before class.

On the more exciting side, I think I'm discovering a tiny little creative niche for myself through photography. Ansel Adams I am not. But I've included a few of my favorite photos for you to see how I'm spending my time. Maybe one of them will spark a creative moment for you!

Hugs & God Bless,
Beverly

Just call me Dobby

Once again, it has taken me 10 days to write the next post. Sorry friends, the days are getting away from me! I'm trying to keep this to a weekly thing, hoping that's enough to keep people interested but not too much to be annoying.

So, this was one of those mornings that every parent in the universe (except all the perfect parents of course!) experiences with their children. Nobody wanted to get out of bed, including me. Had to battle with Little Missy over getting dressed. Argued with son over actually eating the lunch I've packed for him versus leaving it to rot so he can buy lunch everyday. Discussed the fact that while Toaster Strudel is yummy, if you're still hungry after eating one, that is a pretty good sign it's not a good breakfast and that we should add a banana or apple to that breakfast plate (why do I even buy the dang things, I wonder!)

This led to two things:

1. A strong twinge of nostalgia for the days when we had just small children at home, who didn't need to be to preschool till 9. I truly miss the days of snuggling on the couch with them as they could take the time to wake up slowly while watching Little Bear and eating whatever breakfast I'd made that morning. They'd get dressed in the family room, and I might grumble a bit about the left-behind jammies, but all in all it was a pleasant way to start the day.

2. The realization that it's that time of year when the "Mom is not the House Elf" speech has to be dusted off and put into play.

Here's what happens every school year: School starts. I'm alternately sad (because inevitably we didn't do everything we wanted to do over the summer and I hate homework more than the kids) and giddy (because, well, four kids, do the math). In order to combat the new-school-year-blues and try to make the morning transition as painless as possible, we start out with mom showing the love and making it all good...  lunches are made, complete with mushy note in the lunchbox;  everyone gets the breakfast of their choice; I make sure snacks and water bottles are parked in the back packs; in short, I don my Dobby cloak and if a sock of gratitude should fall my way, I'm a happy camper.

My goal here is to help them get started on a great year, but eventually be able to do all these things on their own with just a mild amount of supervision. Model the behavior, point out what they need to be doing, eventually nudge them along to doing it themselves. Clearly, all my children are old enough to pour themselves a bowl of cereal-and-moo for breakfast, just as they are all old enough to make their own lunches (with varying degrees of healthiness) and pack their own backpacks. The problem is recognizing the point when the kids start to expect mom to do all these things rather than appreciating the fact that mom is trying to help them out. Thus, the nudging is now going to become the outright pushing. I still want to be able to do all these things for them, but I know that for them to become confident, self-sufficient children, teens and eventually adults, they have to learn to juggle the morning madness with just a little bit of back-up from mom & dad.

My feeling is this: I am the MOM, and a stay-at-home mom at that. My job (and currently ONLY job) is take care of the troops. Sometimes this means showing them how to do something, allowing them to do and, if necessary, to fail, and providing some meaningful support when necessary. This does not mean doing everything for them and/or picking up all the pieces when they don't do something right. However, kids should be able to make mistakes with some subconscious expectation that someone has their backs. I'm pretty sure that's written somewhere in my job description (somewhere before lighting the fires and after mopping the floors). So, I'll keep reminding and prodding, and hoping that eventually I will get nostalgic twinges for the days when the kids let me make their lunches.

Now that I think about it, maybe House Elf IS a good title. After all,  "Dobby did it for the best."

Hugs & God Bless,
Beverly

P.S. Have had so many wonderful people asking about Kylie and how she is recovering after her concussion. So far, so good. Initial round of blood tests have come back negative for any sort of blood disorders that might have been responsible for the clotted vein, so that's a good thing. Visiting the neurologist on Monday and praying that he clears her for "active duty." The lack of physical play is starting to wear on us all! Thank you all for your kind thoughts and prayers! They make a difference!