The progressive Suckiness of A Mother’s Night:

1)One of your amazing kids has a stomach virus with both ends going.

2) One of your amazing kids has a stomach virus with both ends going.  They flood their bathroom.

3) One of your amazing kids has a stomach virus with both ends going.  They flood their bathroom and they don’t tell you until the bathroom is totally flooded.

4) One of your amazing kids has a stomach virus with both ends going.  They flood their bathroom and they don’t tell you until the bathroom is totally flooded.  You finally get the entire thing cleaned up, wash you hands, and go to dry them thinking you are done.

6) One of your amazing kids has a stomach virus with both ends going.  They flood their bathroom and they don’t tell you until the bathroom is totally flooded.  You finally get the entire thing cleaned up, wash you hands, and go to dry them thinking you are done.  As soon as you touch the hand towel, you feel that it is soaking wet and you instantly realize that the same amazing kid tried to clean it up themselves, which is why they didn’t tell you immediately, and then hung the hand towel back up on the bar. 

7)One of your amazing kids has a stomach virus with both ends going.  They flood their bathroom and they don’t tell you until the bathroom is totally flooded.  You finally get the entire thing cleaned up, wash you hands, and go to dry them thinking you are done.  As soon as you touch the hand towel, you feel that it is soaking wet and you instantly realize that the same amazing kid tried to clean it up themselves, which is why they didn’t tell you immediately, and then hung the hand towel back up on the bar.  You start cleaning again.

The Most Conflicted Loss

Today, my older sister passed away.

I'm not sure what to do with everything I feel.  So, I thought I would give it to you, the universe, etc, and hopefully let it go.

My older sister is really my older half-sister.  Sometimes that half matters, and sometimes it doesn't.

For us, that half meant she wasn't raised with us, and was raised by a mother who chose to lie about our father.  Her mother told her that our father was an alcoholic, and that was why she divorced him.  She said that he used to beat them.  She said they were poor, while we were raised with everything, because he didn't want to take care of her.

All of it was lies.  The truth is that they were divorced because she chose to cheat on him, and he caught her.  So, he filed for divorce.  The truth is that my dad was is a pretty rough guy, but he never was an alcoholic.  He didn't get drunk like that.  I'm not going to lie and say he was perfect, far from it, but I can tell you that what she said was far from the truth.  We weren't rich, either.  Her mom was just money hungry.  We grew up with very little by the time my dad paid child support for her, and took care of the three of us,and our mom.  We wore hand me downs.  My mom can make a meal out of nothing.  Seriously.  The woman has an unbelievable talent for being cheap.  Most of all, my Dad did want to take care of her.  he gave my sister the choice of living with us, but she wanted to stay with her mom.
That choice was poison.
She was raised to see bad things.  So, she saw them.  She let that affect her relationships with all of us for the rest of her life.  She was always distant.

In college, I tried.  I went to school close to the salon she owned.  It was very, very highly thought of.  All the drag queens in the area went to her to help them get started.  She was someone in that town.  I would go to her shop, where she also lived in the top floors of her building, after my classes, and i would spend time with her.  I wanted that big sister relationship that we never had.

It didn't work though.  Time goes on.
Eventually, I washed my hands of it.
I quit when she would tell me that she wanted to see my child, and then didn't show.  That was it.  You could break my heart, but you can't break hers.
She saw Middie only once, when she was very small, at my brother's wedding.
She never met The Littlest One.
Ever.
We have lived in state for two years, and I haven't seen her since we came back.
These are the choices we make in life.
I realize that she was raised negatively, but eventually, we all become adults and have to make our own choices.
I chose to quit beating myself up over it.  I chose to finally move on.
Then, she died.
All those friends that she used to have, the ones she chose over us, weren't around.
In fact, no one was there.  My parents were on their way.  Her mom and other half sister, with whom she did have a relationship, weren't in the room.
She quit.
She had been battling problems for a while.
I think her demons were just stronger than her this time.  Sometimes, that is how it is.  Sometimes the demons are stronger than us and they win.

I had been checking in nearly constantly to see how she was doing, and then the phone rang.  My mom said she was gone.  Done.  Over.
I was really angry when mom called.
I am angry with my sister for giving up on us.  I'm hurt that she threw us away.  I'm livid with her mom for poisoning her for all those years, and robbing me of the big sister relationship I never got to have.
It hurts.  I'm sad.  I'm sad for my kids who will never know her laugh, or big blonde hair.  They won't get to have their hair done by her for their weddings.
I'm mourning.  In all honesty, though, its the relationship that was never there that I mourn the most.  I'm really heart broken over the fact that it will never be.
I'm sure I will go to her memorial service, because I want to be there with my dad.  I want to give him a kiss on the cheek, and tell him that I know the truth about who he is, and even though he isn't perfect, I would never throw him away.

So, I lost a sister today, and its complicated.  Please, don't offer to send something, or do something.  Please, don't try to pressure me to be more upset for you than I feel like I need to be in the moment, because I'm really not sure how to feel.  A simple,"That sucks" will be fine.  I'll appreciate it.  It does suck.
Also, I'm probably calling into work Friday (for my volunteer jobs).  So, if you could just excuse that with out any ado, that would be awesome.  I'll let you know if I need anything else.

I'm leaving you with a picture that I do love, from when I was little.  My sister and I, back when I used to think she was the coolest thing ever, and looked forward to every single time she came over like it was my birthday, even if she did accidentally pop my shoulders out of socket once.  Something I can now do all the time thanks to her.  This picture brings up the good memories, and this is what I'm choosing to keep.

You will be missed.

I Need to Get Back

So, I abandoned my blog for a while.  I'm not sure why, but I'm unabandoning it with a very honest post.
I think of this blog in many ways as my outlet, when I just need to anonymously vent about all things related in any way to parenting, or even my life.

We have hit a new chapter in parenting, and frankly, I need to share out of nothing but sheer frustration.

The biggest one is 10.  I had no idea that 10-12 was so freaking difficult.  It is.  If you have girls, when you get to this age, if you don't drink, you will, and if you do drink, have someone start watching you to make sure you don't get out of hand.  The stage is that hard.

This weekend, we had a big troop sleepover.  I'm not sure what started it, but something, somewhere set off a chain reaction with the big one that set off an atomic bomb of attitude, with a mushroom cloud of nasty behaviour that could be seen for miles.  It was off the charts.  I haven't seen her this bad since the last time her dad deployed and it got super ridic.
I'm seriously at a loss.
I managed to make it through the night.  All the parents in my home saw her behaviour.  I apologized.  I vented a little.  They empathized, but mostly, I was embarrassed and frustrated.  There was nothing I could do in the moment with 20 girls in my home who needed to have a good time, and 1 who was determined not to.
So, the dealing with it came the next day.
Yesterday, for the first time ever, I made The Biggest One scrub the toilets.  Seriously. I vowed a while back that this was the next direction her punishments would be going, and I stuck to it.  Taking things away seemed to be doing nothing.  Her arm has been broken (a story I need to blog about to catch you up anyway) for a while and she already lost out on her archery lessons until that is healed.  So, I really needed a new effective deterrent that I could go with.
Now, let me say that it was totally supervised, and frankly, I don't think there is anything harmful about cleaning a bathroom, at all, but at the age of 10, it sucks big time.  She hated every single second of it with a passion.  When we were all done, I ask her if she ever wanted to do that again.  It was a resounding no.  Then I told her to consider it every time she opened her mouth to be rude, every time she wanted to stomp out of a room, and so one.  From now on, the response would be to clean a toilet.  If you have crappy behaviour, you get a crappy punishment (see what I did there).  I feel it fitting.
Now, one of two things will happen, it will help some and she will think before she acts, or we will have the cleanest toilets in the world.  Either way, I win.
In all honesty, though, I'd much rather clean the toilets my self and have a daughter with improved behaviour.  Really.  In fact, I'll even take that for Christmas.

You Hateful Bunch of .....UUGGH

(Alternative post title: "Don't ever go to CafeMom for support")

I'm not sure how else to say this, but how dare you?  How dare you be such a judgmental bunch of hateful people?
Of course, I'm not speaking to everyone out there in the whole wide world.  I'm speaking directly to those ass wholes (yes I said it) women out there who insist on tearing each other down for no good reason.
This is what I'm talking about.

Now, let me tell you, we all have tough days.  There are many days where I have cried into my pillow at night.  There are many times that I have hated how hard things are sometimes as a parent, but never would I lash out at someone for feeling like that.

What I would do is give this mom a big hug.  Maybe suggest a mom's group which can make a world of difference in your mindset.  Having other mom's tell you its ok and that we have all been there is something we all need to here from time to time.  I might tell her to go see someone, too.  I mean, parenting is hard, and sometimes we can all use a little help.

However, these bitchy moms think what they need is to tear this mom down.  What they need is a good smack of reality.  Words hurt.  A lot.  When you are reaching out for help, they cut like a knife.

These horrible women have wounded a kindred spirit for no good reason other than spite.
To all of you judgement people like that, I hope you never have a bad day.  I hope you never have a day when you need to complain about how awful moments in parenting can be.  When you do have one, I hope you remember how hurtful you were.  I'm sure you are far too self absorbed to realize any of that, though.  So, even though you have done something terrible, i really hope that when you do have a bad day, because we all do, that someone shows you more kindness and mercy than you showed.  The cycle has to stop.
We teach our kids not to bully, and now it's time that the mommy circle learns the same thing.

Crisis of Car Seat Conscious

I'm in the midst of a serious car seat dilemma, or at least it feels that way.  I happen to be a bit of a car seat snob and zealot.  Not totally, but maybe a little.  I only buy very good seats (read really expensive, too).  I know that the quality of the car seat actually matters.  I have a brand that I prefer as soon as they are out of the carriers.  This particular brand allows for both extended rear facing and extended harness use.  Both of which are very important to me.  Currently, The biggest One, my 9 year old, is still in a booster.  She hasn't hit the weight limit yet.  So, I see no point in changing that until she does hit the weight limit.  As a side note, she is only a few pounds away, and I will be totally heart broken when I have to take her out of the booster. Middie, who is now 6, is still in a 4 point harness.  The car seat allows up to 80lbs, I think, for the harness.  She is no where near that.  So, she will be in the harness until she out grows the seat via height.  She will then be moved into a booster.  Her older sister was only switched over just before she turned 8.  Yup.  I had a seven year old in a harness. The Littlest One is still rear facing at 23 months and 28 days.  She will be 2 this weekend, and I am really considering turning her around.  I know that rear facing is so much safer, and new guideline say that they should rear face until at least two.  My heart and head are totally conflicted. The problem is, in my older model Ford Expedition, I can't get the car seat to sit well rear facing.  It just seems like it is in a very odd place or angle for her.  Due to that, I think she may be better off forward facing.  The thing is, we have another vehicle where she fits just fine rear facing. My Husband likes for me to drive the Expedition.  He feels like it makes more sense and is safer due to it's large size (though I tend to disagree with that portion).  Anyway, the thing is, once I flip her, I flip her in both vehicles, not just one.  Once she forward faces, I know she won't want to go back.  She already hates riding in the car (total car screamer).  I am pretty sure that forward facing will cut down on that at least a little.  That means there is no going back when we switch vehicles back and forth.  She won't have it.
So, what to do?  Do I drive the truck with less room, but allows her car seat to seat safely rear facing all the time?  Do I go ahead and flip her?
I may also, in total honesty, be feeling a little bummed about turning her around because she is my baby.  Turning her means she isn't so much of a baby anymore.  Since we won't be having any more babies either, it makes everything like this just a little more difficult.
I'm having a total mommy conscious moment.  I've had a few of those, lately, but this one is going to have to be addressed this weekend.


**I don't need any feed back about how she must be getting cramped rear facing, or how that it "looks unsafe".  Extended rear facing is safer.  Fact.  No arguments.  If you aren't aware of how much safer, you should read up on it.  If there wasn't the issue of the poor position in the one vehicle, I wouldn't even be considering it.**

Cheating The Littlest One

Even though The Biggest One was born in South Texas, she was raised in San Diego.  Middie was raised there, until we moved here.  Though she was young when we moved, I think she will keep a lot of memories of our time there, and certainly the impact of all the things we did, and her experiences will carry forward with her.  The Littlest One, though, she won't remember San Diego, at all.  She was so small, that the fact that she was born there will just be something written on a piece of paper to her.  She is a Native San Diegan by word only.
That really breaks my heart.
I love San Diego.  I love the culture.  I love the atmosphere.  I love all that there is to do with my children.  I tried to take advantage of a lot of that, too.  As a result, I think I gave The Big Girls a pretty well rounded life experience before they started kindergarten.  I don't really believe that preschool is in any way necessary for a young child's development, and as long as you give them a great, well rounded life experience before school starts, they should be just fine, and maybe even fantastic, by the time they are ready to start school.  I think I was able to provide that for The Big Girls.  We did Sea World and the San Diego Zoo.  They were able to see all sorts of fantastic animals and shows.  They were able to learn a lot about the world around them.  The San Diego Zoo, one of my favorite places on earth, has a great program for moms groups.  They bring you in a little early before the zoo opens, and take you on a special tour of the zoo.  Each month there is a different theme and you get to learn about something very cool.  There was even story time at the end of each session.  It was fantastic.  The kids get to be exposed to so much that way.  We were doing that with our group every month before we left, and it was  seriously great.  We went to parks all the time.  We got out.  We played with out friends.  We got fresh air and exercise on a regular basis.
All that life experience is invaluable.
Now, though, we aren't in San Diego.  The weather is crappy most of the time.  We don't get to see the sun much, and it is freaking cold here during the winter and spring.  That means no outside time.  We rarely go outside, unless it is to run from the house to the car.  It sucks.  There is a Zoo, but it is more like a petting Zoo.  Besides, no other zoo compares to the San Diego Zoo.  IT really is the best.  There certainly isn't a Sea World anywhere near by.  We do have an aquarium, but there were a few of those in San Diego as well.  The fact is, there just isn't nearly as much to offer here as there was there.
The culture is also much different.  We are seriously lacking in cultural diversity here as compared to San Diego.  Seriously.  I went to the best Asian market we have here.  It was about the size of a convenience store.  That was it.  I guess I should be thankful we have one at all.
We just don't have what we are using to having in San Diego anymore.
I feel like The Big Girls got so much by living there, and by moving here, we are cheating The Littlest One out of all those opportunities to explore the world.  It isn't fair to her that she won't get to see dolphins any time we want, or check out a polar bear on a beautiful, sunny day. I wonder how it will affect her development as a person later on in life.
I can see a stark difference in the children who were raised here and The Biggest One.  They are already very close minded when it comes to anything that is different.  Telling them that a food is from another culture makes it gross, not interesting.  When they meet people who are new are different, and it takes a long time to welcome them in.  They simply haven't been exposed to anything, and have parents who aren't opening their world up, either.  It makes me sad.

The other day,  The Biggest One and I were watching Chopped.  One of the contestants said that she really needed the money because her partner was about to have a baby.  The Biggest One said that was really nice that she would just give that money to her friend.  I very simply told her that wasn't what partner meant.  It was more like a girl friend or wife.  The Biggest One's reply was "Oh, ok."  She just didn't get the term.  There was no big discussion needed.  There wasn't an astounded reaction.  She knows that any one can love anyone they want to because she has seen it with her own two eyes.  She knows there are two mommy households, and that isn't anything new or odd to her at all.  It's just a part of life as she knows it.
That is what I want for my kids.  I want them to love and respect diversity, and I fear greatly that they will miss out on all that by being here.

I'm really trying hard to find the good in our new home.
We do have some fantastic lakes, two huge ones really, with tons of parks around them, and even a make shift beach.  We have some other nifty attractions like the Lookout Mountain.  There is a lot of camping and hiking that can be done.  We also have a great Discovery Center that I think would actually put the Reuben H. Fleet to shame sometimes, or at the very least rival it well.
That's it, though.  So, I will have to seek out the best of our area that I can to try be the best parent that I can be here.  We can go down to Atlanta and visit their Aunt, to see what Atlanta has to offer.  We can hit the parks when it is warm.  I'll do the best that I can do with what I have, and hope, that I can give her what she needs, even if it isn't what I want.

Not Enough Wine In The World

Let me make one thing really clear, I really don't drink.  Like ever.  I'm not opposed to it, I just can't afford the extra calories every day.  Not only that, but with three children, I'm really afraid that if I started, I wouldn't ever stop.
You see, when you have all daughters, and in particular one who is about to turn 10, there are enough hormones running rampant through your home to stave off menopause for at least 10 middle aged women.  Seriously.  It's like all hormones, all the time right now.
     The Big One is killing me.  A little at a time, but I swear she is taking years off my life.  She goes from super pissed to crying in about 0.2 seconds these days.  Her bad attitude is off the charts.  She is a total angsty, moody teenager three years before we should have hit this, and I just do not get it.  The other day, I made her cry because I told her she was being a pout pout fish.  If you haven't ever seen it, there is an adorable children's book that we love, The Pout Pout Fish.    I paraphrased some lines some lines for her, telling her that she was a Pout Pout Fish with a Pout Pout face, spreading dreary wearies all over the place.  Then I ask her to turn her frown upside down and be a Kiss Kiss Fish with a Kiss Kiss face and spread cheerie cheeries all over the place instead.  That is all straight from the book, and totally cute.
I suppose I just spoiled the ending of that book for you if you haven't ever read it, but still totally worth the read.
     Anyway, from that, I was told that I was mean, because I was name calling.  True, I did call her a Pout Pout Fish, but......Seriously?  I mean, SERIOUSLY?
The point of quoting the silly book to her was to make her smile.  I wanted to make her giggle and tell me I was being silly, and I would even take an eye roll with an exasperated "Mooommm" as long as there was at least the start of a grin.

But no.

Instead, I got tears and to be told how mean I was because I called her a Pout Pout Fish.
I know in my head that this is going to get progressively worse.  I realize that we haven't hit our hormonal stride yet, but I do not understand how it could be worse.
I don't know how I will handle it.  I am afraid that she will spend years 10 through 17 locked in her room.
It is amazing to me that so many girls survive puberty with their moms.
I look back, and I'm trying to remember myself at this age, but I think I have blocked it all out at this point, and probably for good reason.  I think I need to find a new moms group, stat.  I see lots of late night mom's night outs in my future, if either of us are going to make it.

Teaching Our Children To Stand Up To The Man

There are days when I am definitely My Father's Daughter.  Granted, I am always biologically his, but some days, I act just like him as well.  My Father is a grouchy, mean old man, whom I love.  He taught me a lot of things.  Some good.  Some my mother doesn't appreciate.  One of the best lessons he ever taught me, though, is to stand up for what you believe in, no matter what or to whom.  He taught me that elected officials put their pants on one leg at a time, just like the rest of us, and their door, or email inbox, should always be open to us.
Right now, I am going through the process of trying to get the great city of Chattanooga to change a city code that will disqualify many of our recently retired veterans from serving as police officers or fire fighters.  Basically, to be employed for either, you mist be totally through training and hired before you turn 40.  When a person enters the military at 18, they can retire 20 years later at the age of 38, possibly very closed to 39.  The hiring process is very long, often taking up to, or even longer than a year for police officers.  That means, you will be 39, pushing 40, by the time you are even approved for a police academy.  Then, you have to wait for an academy to start.  In all that time, most recent retirees will age out of eligibility, since the training itself take yet another 5 months, and you must be done before you turn 40.  I find it absurd that the city would toss aside so many people who would be invaluable to them in either department.  Turing 40 doesn't mean you can't still be a vital member of the police department.  Far from it.   In fact, with the experience that many people walk away from the military with, they would only make the police department better for it.  Where else are you going to find so many people who are completely prepared to make tough decisions under extreme pressure?  They are generally all very familiar with small arms, something a police officer needs to be very comfortable with.  I could go on, and on about how their experience would be beneficial to the department, but I think it is really very obvious.  They would make great police officers, especially those who have any military police training.
However, this city code will preclude so many of them from being up to get into the department on such a tight time frame.
So, I want it changed.
I also have a special drive for this because it does affect my family directly.  I don't want to go into that right now, but I think you can figure it out.

I've already started contacting the mayor and City Council members.  I've started a petition that I plan on taking to a council meeting as soon as I have enough signatures.  Please, sign it.  Sign it.  Share it.  Send it to anyone you know.

As a side goal in this whole process, and something that gets me all worked up in a good way, I want to involve my children.  I want them to watch their mom in action and see that anyone can try to change the way things are run.  "We the people.." isn't just in our governing documents for great literary effect.  It is there because regardless as to how they make us feel sometimes, we need to remember that we elect people.  We should drive policy, not the policy makers themselves.  I want my girls to see it, and feel it.  I want them to stand up for what they believe in, and work to change what they don't.

I want my Girl Scout troop to participate with me, too.  I want them to sit in on the council meetings that I go to.  I want them to watch me speak, and learn that they can do anything and be anything they want to.

This is one time where my dad taught me everything just right.  Thanks, Dad, and I promise to pass the lesson on to the best of my ability.

You Have Value As A Mom

In all my time as an organizer of a moms group, I learned a lot.
Right now, one of the most valuable lessons for me personally, and one that I am struggling with myself, is that being a mom doesn't mean you are just a mom, you have value no matter who you are and what you do, or don't do.
When people would request to join our group, they are required to fill out a profile sheet of a few questions. The first thing on the list is an introduction.  It can be simple, but we do request that you actually put something about themselves.  So many times, women would come in and their introduction would read something like "Hi.  I'm Jane Doe, and before I was a Mom, I was a ...." It wasn't simple a way to let us know their interest.  It was as though they needed to let us know that they did something before becoming a mom, that with out that, they weren't a valid person.
I realized, after talking to so many moms over the years, that we so often lose ourselves when we become a mom, and forget how important we are.
When you become a mom, everything changes, especially if you quit the work force to stay home with your children.  When you do that, you lose touch with so many people, and what could easily be called "the outside world", meaning anything outside your home, or the scope of what revolves around your child.  Your day to day life is determined by the child's needs and schedule, not what you necessarily want.  If you let it, it can become very overwhelming to find your life so turned on it's ear.  Especially because, though you are raising a child, probably keeping the home, and all that, you often don't feel that you make a real contribution.  Your life feels like an endless cycle of the same thing.  It's like the old Dunkin Donuts commercial, and every day you wake to make the donuts, except your feeding the baby, changing the baby, cleaning the house, making lunches in the morning, etc.

For me, when we moved, I left everything behind.  I had a great moms group I ran.  I had a Girl Scout Troop I loved.  I had friends that are really more like family.  I loved the area.  I could go on, but I might cry.  So, I find myself back in that position, as if I were a new mom, just at home, with the baby.  I live by her schedule again, and end up cooking, cleaning ,and doing those kinds of things all day.  Part of me hates it.

The thing is, even if what you are doing is just feeding the baby, changing her, etc, you are making a contribution that is more than you can possible understand in that tired moment.  You have a job, though often a thankless one.  You are the toilet paper fairy, the dinner fairy, and every other fairy that makes things seem to magically happen for everyone else in your home.  You are the reason it goes on.  Without you, the house wouldn't run, the baby wouldn't be happy, and life would be even more chaos than it already is.
So, don't feel like you aren't making a contribution, because you are.  You will get your own outside life back.  Search online for groups of moms that you can hang out with, with baby.  Take her to the park and hang out.  Take her shopping and play with her.  Enjoy this moment because it won't last long.  There will be a day when you aren't needed at home in the same way anymore.   There will be a day when you long for the moments where you were "just" taking care of things inside.
Until, know that your contribution is invaluable.
You are awesome.
You are a mom, and there are few jobs in this world as hard and yet as wonderful and rewarding as that.

Update to No Social Media For You

I wanted to throw this out there.  When I say young children  I suppose I really mean children in general, unless parents are sure they are responsible, and are prepared to be a part of their online access.

This is exactly why I think kids shouldn't have that much online access:

Story about a fight caught on camera and posted online.

This fight was posted all over the internet, and now this child won't come home.  How terrible. I don't care who started it, who finished it, etc.  What I care about is the fact that other kids used social media to magnify this girl's pain to the point that she has run away.  

The parent of every child who had a phone, videoed this, put it on Facebook, or was involved without doing something should take a serious stand with their kids.  You don't kick someone when they are down.  

I hope they find this girl, and she is ok.

No Social Media For You

This is going to be another one of those posts that may very well cheese someone off.  In fact, I am sure that what I am about to say may be taken personally be a few people that I happen to care about.  However, sometimes in life, and especially when you have a head full of opinions that must be shared as I do, if you aren't pissing people off occasionally, you aren't doing it right.

The topic of social media has come up quite a bit in our household lately.  The Big Girls and I have taken to playing a game together through my Facebook account.  They love it.  I love playing it with them, and even with out them occasionally.  While all that fun together may be great, what it does that isn't so great is get The Biggest One to be very aware of Facebook.  Some of her friends have their own Facebook already.  I personally find that absurd.  I have told her many times, and I absolutely mean it, she is by no means ready for social media, and she will not be for quite sometimes.
(get ready for the opinion to be heard round the world)
I do not think that young children should have Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram, etc accounts.  I think a good old email address is quite enough, and even that is a bit too much sometimes.  In addition, they should not be allowed to text, or even have a phone that is used for anything other than getting in touch with mom or dad and emergencies.
We give our kids to much access to each other.  What ever happened to good old fashioned hanging out?  What happened to real personal communication.  What about calling each other on your home phone, and talking for a while, or asking to go to some one's house, etc.  Thinking that social media and kids don't mix doesn't make me old fashioned.  I love social media.  I have a Facebook account.  I, obviously, blog.  I have a twitter account for this blog, not that I use it that well, or much, but I will admit that social media has enriched my life.  That doesn't mean i think it is appropriate for my child.  It is a little like reading a really good adult themed book.  I am reading, which is good for the mind, but just because a book is a book, that doesn't make it appropriate for every child.  You have to measure what is right for your child at each age and maturity level.  I think parents have forgotten that.  I think that parents tend to forget just how dangerous the internet can be for some reason.  Access to social media in particular I think is probably one of the most dangerous things we can let our kids do online.  Now only do we put them out there for other people to find, but we put them out there for them to embarrass or hurt them selves without realizing what they are doing.  I know I have had a moment where I have said something on Facebook or Twitter that I realized later on could be misinterpreted.  A young person will not only make that same mistake, but their lack of maturity could take that situation so much father.  They don't often understand the boundaries of what is or isn't appropriate.  I see young people, whom I love, post things all the time that they may not realize they can never take back.  Ever.  Once you put it on the net, it is there.  Not only that, but cyber bullying is a serious issue.  Why give your child a greater venue in which to be a part of that, on either side.  It happens.  We like to turn a blind eye tot that, though, and either don't care or aren't aware as parents of what all is going on.  I sincerely believe that many of the bullying deaths we have heard about would have been prevented if all parents pulled their kids back from text or internet bullying.  Can you imagine the feeling of being in your home, where you are supposed to feel safe, and being inundated with bullying via your phone, Facebook, or twitter?  It would have to be devastating to not even feel safe from people who want to hurt you in your own home like that.
So, for that and so many reasons, my kids can forget having access to much of that until they are older.  I don't care who has it and that they will be be the only ones without whatever it is they will be begging for.  They will be better off.  In addition, when they do get access, I will take the same approach that a mom and son who have been on the news lately did with a set of contractual guidelines outlining the use of social media  , smart phones, etc.  I will have access to everything, and beyond that, I will be constantly checking up on things.  I will be reading texts.  I will be checking to see if you are deleting them before I read them.  I will be on your Facebook page every day.  Believe me, I'm going to be all over it.
When the time comes, and I do realize that eventually the time will come, it will be a given as a privilege, not a right, and a privilege that in this household can be taken away at any time.

She Just Won't Talk

I always thought that all of my children would be talkers.  If you know me well, you know I like to talk.  My mother will talk your ear off in a minute.  My sister is a chatty Kat, too.  The Big Girls talk a lot and they both spoke pretty early as babies.  The Big One spoke very early and very well.  Midi not as much, but still pretty early.  My brother, sister, and I were all the same.  My nephew (my brother's son) doesn't stop talking.
I have one nonverbal stick in the mud, though, with The Littlest One.  She won't talk.  She just won't.  She doesn't speak much, and won't use actual words in stead of grunts very often.  I was actually concerned enough to bring it up at her last check up.  I realize that she is the youngest of three, and lives in a house where everyone talks for her. She also still uses a pacifier (Don't judge.  We are weaning off the boob and only one can go at a time.)  So, I get that all that means she will talk later, but this is driving me crazy.  At her age, The Big One would already make two or three word sentences.  "Cup, please" and sentences like that were easy for her.  Midi spoke early enough and well enough that I was never concerned.  The Littlest One, though, makes me try very hard not to be worried.  Her pediatrician went over a secondary developmental assessment with me, and she was great.  The only indicator of a developmental issue she pegged on was the question about whether or not they stare off at nothing.  She does.  All the time.  More so than the other two did.  The Dr began to question me about it, and ascertained that she does it while pointing to the nothing she is staring at, and trying to show it to us.  Freaky, but no longer an indicator if she communicated with us in some way during the process of seeing things we don't.

     The thing is, she does communicate.  She knows body parts already and will point to the one you ask.  She can follow commands, like "Get your hand out of my shirt" or "Take that to the trash".  So, her language skills are there as far as understanding words.  She just won't speak.  I will occasionally hear her say a word, a big word even, and then never say it again.  It is as if she is torturing me and being incredibly obstinate with full realization of what she is doing.  Perhaps she is aware that I want her to talk and won't.  That would seem to go right along with her personality so far.  So far, I have her pegged as being the most difficult child in regards to behavior   Not that she is a terror or anything, but because she constantly does things for a reaction   She already knows what she isn't supposed to do, and looks you straight in the eye and does them, while laughing, to get you to come after her.  She is a constant joy, I tell you.
Probably in a year or so, I will come back and tell you this is all cleared up, and she won't ever stop talking, just like her sisters.  Maybe by then she will be driving me insane with the almost three year old constant conversation.  Hopefully.  

The Death Talk

Recently, we have had to have "The Death Talk" with The Big Girls twice.
The first time, it was in regards to a person, my aunt.  She didn't actually die, but she will, and probably soon.  I don't say that flippantly.  I love her, dearly.  She is a little kooky and crazy, but its all good, and she is probably the person in my extended family that I have spent the most time without, except for possibly one cousin to whom I am pretty close.  I've grown up around her, since she and my mom have worked together for my mom's business since I was very little.  I have traveled with her.  When I think of the beach, I instantly think of her.  I really do love her, and she is dying.  Slowly.  She has two artificial valves in her heart, and has since she was 17.  Her heart is totally failing now.  There isn't much anyone can do.  I knew she was getting worse, then, a couple of weeks ago, my Mom called to tell me that she may not make it through the next day.  They were at a very serious point where a procedure could be done to give her time, but it may also cost her life.  My Sister and I decided to go up immediately, but before I could leave, I had to tell The Girls why I was going. The Big One also loves this aunt.  She really does.  She looks forward to seeing her every time we go home.  The craziest thing of all is that this aunt taught The Big One how to whistle, and they are the only two people I have ever met that sound exactly like a bird when they whistle, and can only whistle like that.  Its makes for painful car trips, at times, but it is one of those endearing things in life that you both love and hate.  So, I had to sit her down and tell her that it was very likely this wonderful woman may not be with us any more, and prepare them for what seemed like the inevitable.  We were very lucky, though.  The Drs told us she would never go home, but they were wrong.  We got a little more time with her.  It won't be forever, but we will be thankful for what we get.
Talking to the girls was a difficult moment.
It was preparation, for what may be, and what will be.  It was preparation for today.
On the way back from a long work filled week with my family, My Husband called with bad news.  One of our guinea pigs, Pinky, died suddenly.  We have no idea why.  She seemed fine when he checked on them last night before he left for work  When he went in to check on them this after noon, she was dead.  The other one was trying to nudge her with her nose.  He didn't know what to do.  We talked as discreetly as we could with me in the car.  He took her out of the cage, and placed her in a shoe box until we could talk to The Girls and go from there.
For some reason, from the moment we got home, all The Big One wanted to do was play with Pinky.  Perhaps it was because The Girls were able to play with sugar gliders during the show, and it made them miss their pets, but rarely is she so intent on playing with them the moment she walks in the door.  We put her off.  A lot.  We had things to do.  We had a truck to unload.  At one point, she looked at My Husband and ask why he twitched every time she said Pinky.  Finally, we couldn't put off the inevitable.  We had to tell them.  IT was terrible.  The Big One broke down instantly, the moment she realized what we were trying to tell them.  We couldn't even finish before she was a bawling heap on My Husband's lap.  The Middle One was sad, but slower to process.  It will take her a while.  She will pop up and say something profoundly sad, then go back to being quiet.  It is her process.
We ask The Girls if they wanted us to take care of Pinky.  The Big One wanted to be a part of the burial.  The Middle One did not, which is totally fine. The Big One ask for flowers to put on her grave, and tomorrow, I will get all the things we need, and we will bury our little pet, their first pet.
This is a hard lesson.  We talked at length about pets and death at dinner.  Pinky was young and died suddenly.  We just don't know why.  That can happen again if we get another pet, and they need to know that.  They need to understand that no life is permanent.  We will always remember and love Pinky, though. They know that.  They will be sad for a while, and that is ok. They will cry more.  We all will some.  That's ok, too.
Some lessons are hard and I hate to see my children learn them.  I wish I could protect them from this, but that just isn't reality.  Death is just a part of life, no matter how much we wish it wasn't.  Though I sincerely hope that we can put off learning more from this lesson for as long as possible.

A Better Lunch

When you space your children 4 years apart each, you tend to forget things in between.  I usually can't remember what I did yesterday.  So, the fact that i have to re learn some of the best little parenting lessons each time they pop up shouldn't be a surprise to me, or anyone that knows me.
Today's little parenting lesson relearned, if you want to actually each your own lunch, you must make two.  You see, we have entered the phase with The Littlest One where whatever we have on our plates looks infinitely better than what ever is on her plate or high chair tray, even if it is the same exact food.  It must be the presentation, and the big silver fork.  She does like the shiny things.  Regardless, she likes our food far more than her own.  As any good parent would, I tend to give up a good portion of my lunch to her.  The thing is, I usually don't want to trade back for what she has, again, even if it is the same food.  Once she has it, she tends to destroy it, or in foodie terms, she likes her meals deconstructed   I'm more into a polished, total meal, than a deconstructed one that might have a little snot, or who knows what else, mixed in.  Therefore, I need to remember to make two plates for myself from now on.  The first plate will be my decoy plate.  I will star off by pretending to eat from it.  Then, once she makes her move, I can start surreptitiously eating from the second plate, while feeding her everything from the first.  I know it sounds difficult, but I am hungry and desperate to eat an actual meal.  I am glad she likes real food, and good food, too, but I wish she would like it a little more on her own plate, and not so much just from mine.

A Quick Share

I'm actually working on catching up on some of my blogging (I swear), but in the mean time, I thought I would share a quick moment from my day yesterday.

We are currently down to one car.  Until we make the decision about where to move, we have no immediate plans to buy another one, either.  So, we spend a lot of time in the truck right now, shuffling it back and forth for everything we all need.
On the way to pick My Husband up from work, The Big Little One and I are discussing something, no idea what, and I told her I agreed with her about what ever it was.  She got quiet for a moment.  Then, in a very thoughtful voice, she said "Mom, sometimes, you are on my side, and sometimes you are not".  That is a very powerful statement from a 4 year old.  I looked over my shoulder to where she was sitting, behind the passenger's seat, at her beautiful face.  I wasn't sure exactly where to go with it.  I started with telling her that mom may or may not always agree with everything she does or says, but I will always support her and be in her corner.  I went on and on.  I wanted to make sure to address any concerns she might have, and make she knows that I always support her, even if I don't agree with her, no matter what.  I finished it all up, with a simple "Ok?" to make sure she understood.
She immediately replied in a strained tone that showed she was at the end of her patience, "No, Mom, I mean sometimes you are on my side of the car, and sometimes you aren't."  Oh.  Yes.  Well, then.  Ok.  I told her she was absolutely correct.  Sometimes I drive, and sometimes I ride.  At least, now she knows where I stand on many things, as well as where I sit.

And Now They are All Crying

Mondays are Girl Scout days around here.  We spend most of the day prepping for Scouts, and then we have meetings at 4pm.  Even dinner revolves on Scouts on Monday, because I generally go for the crock pot so that we are ready to go as soon as the last girl leaves.
Today, was supposed to be just another meeting.  We were to focus on our cookie goals.  The whole cookie process, much as I loathe it, is designed to be a teaching tool for the girls.  The money they earn is to be ear marked for both community service and fun stuff.  So, before the season starts, we pick a community service project that we will be spending our proceeds on.  I take suggestions from the girls, and then see which ones are actually feasible (we physically build houses for people that don't have any, not right now anyway) and then they get to vote on them and decide for themselves what to do.  I love that part of everything, and it is probably one of the only reasons I actually go through with all this.
To get to all those great ideas, though, requires a lot of thought and work from the girls.  They have to identify who they want to help, and how.  Can we do it?  We will we have the money?
The fist thing we do is have a brainstorming session.  I go round and round, asking each girl for a new idea until they just run out.  Then ,we go through the list.  Tonight's idea's were interesting.  We had a huge discussion about buying goats for families in Africa.  The next idea was much more tame.  Someone wanted to do something to help the deployed troops.  Very nice.  One little girl, the only one in my entire troop not from a military family, raised her hand and ask what that meant.  I ask the girls who could explain it to her.  Every other hand shot up.  Since her father is actually deployed at this moment, I let The Big One explain.  She got about one sentence out before she broke down.  I believe all she said was "Sometimes, Dads have to leave to...." That was it.  That was all she could say.  She was sobbing nearly instantly.
The girl who ask looked shocked.  She didn't understand.
Since we were all sitting together on the floor, I schooched over to The Big One, put my arms around her, petting her head, and told the other little girl that sometimes, moms and dads have to leave.  They have to travel around the world to fight for our nation, to keep us safe, and do lots of important jobs.  Its hard when they do, because we miss them so much, but they have to go to keep us all safe.  They will come back as soon as they can, though.  Then, I leaned in and whispered to The Big One that we are almost done.  He will be home soon.  I just repeated that and petted her.
I looked up, and everyone else was in tears.  Her best friend, who's father just came home a few weeks ago, was sitting in her own mother's lap, crying.  Her mom just happened to be the parent there tonight to stay as the second adult.  The mom had tears in her eyes.  I look beside me, and the other two military girls are also about to cry.  The Big One couldn't calm down.
So, I just stopped the meeting.  We were going to try the new flavor of cookie, and a few others just for a refresher, anyway, and that was that. I made them wash hands, line up, and move rooms.
Change the scene and the focus immediately.
Having a troop of little girls who's fathers may leave at any time isn't easy.  They all share the pain.  Being a military child in general is such a hard life.  They didn't choose this life.  We, as parents, chose it for them.  So, we have to be there, and try our best, to comfort them, and help them through the path we chose for them.  I will always do my best to comfort my own, and any of them who are heart broken, with cookies, or hugs, or what ever it takes.
We will hope for a better meeting next week. Hopefully, we can focus on our goals, or start working on our badge, but if we are in need, I know where I can get some more cookies.

Guess The Mystery Food

I have decided to do things a little differently the third time around when it comes to feeding a baby.  I suppose I am going old school with this.  Really old school.
I started checking out what all was in a lot of the processed, prepackaged baby foods, and quite frankly, I didn't like it.
I called up my mom, and ask what all she and her eleven siblings (yes you read that correctly) would have been given as a baby.   Her answers kind of shocked me at first.  The foods they were given, sausage gravy, grits, soup beans, may not all be super healthy or things I would try, but it started to dispell the myth that babies shouldn't eat anything that doesn't come in a jar with a label for me.
So, I decided to make my own food this time around.
The Littlest One is just over six months old now, and she should be able to handle most foods.   Therefore, I give her real food.  I throw it in my food chopper, get the texture a little better for her, and go for it.
I have to tell you, she loves it.  She didn't care for the baby cereal oatmeal that I bought, and now have sitting on a shelf and until I find someone else to give it to.  I can't say I blame her.  That stuff smells bad.  However, she loves real oatmeal.  I over cook it, and don't salt it, but still it tastes better than what she had before.  Mix it with a little fruit, and man has she got a great meal.
We are doing that will all kinds of things now, and as she gets older, and her body matures more, I will start giving her more and more foods that I think she should love.
Hence, a new series of posts, "Guess The Mystery Food".
Can you guess what I fed her?
I'll check back in about a day and see if anyone knows what it is after I post it.

Simple foods, made fresh.
That's how we roll these days, and we both love it.

Off to Camp

Today was a huge day around here.
The Big One went off to camp today.  Not day camp, or just overnight camp, but we wont see her again until Thursday camp.
I am very conflicted about this.  Part of me is both very proud of her and excited for her.  She earned this camp. She got her butt up and sold cookies, walking around pulling her wagon or standing for hours in front of stores, to do it.  She also really wanted to go to camp.  She is excited about all the fun things she will get to do, and that makes me excite for her.
The rest of me, though, wishes I could have kept her home in my cocoon of safety.  I worry about her.  A lot.  She is very sensitive.  She is funny, and quirky.  She is fantastic.  Yet, like so many other kids, she just years to be accepted, and going into a huge group of people, that can be daunting.
She is also a vegetarian, and as a vegetarian, I know how hard it can be sometimes to find food at things like this.  On top of being a vegetarian, she is a picky vegetarian.  That doesn't set her up well for things like going off to camp where you eat what you are given.
Not only is there all of that going on, but she has never been away from home like this before.  In fact, in her 8 years of life, I can list for you every time she has been away from me at night.  There are of course the times I have been in the hospital, but she was home with MimMim and her Dad.  So, that doesn't count.  There is the one time that her father and I were fortunate enough to get a weekend away, but that also doesn't count because she was yet again with my mom.  Any time spent with Mim may as well count as being with me in her eyes.  Probably more fun in fact.  The only other time have been two nights that she got to sleep over at her Girl Scout leader's house for two different sleep overs.  Of course, as a co-leader, I was there right up until lights out both times.  Then, I was back first thing in the morning.  Not a whole lot of time without me.
So, I am worried about having her at a camp ground nearly two hours away.  I'm worried about everything.
I hope she gets to try new things, and make new friends.  I hope she learns something about herself along the way, and pulls some strength from inside to help her out in the times when she is sad or scared or what ever it may be.  Most importantly, I just hope she has a fantastic time, and makes memories that she will cherish for a life time.
To The Big One: I'll miss you!!  Be safe and have fun!!

More Like Me

This morning, as I sit here groggily drinking my coffee, I have to wonder why my children couldn't be a little more like me in at least one way; sleeping.  I am a sleeper.  According to my mom, always have been.  She swears she could just lay me down in my crib when it was time to sleep, while I was awake, and I would do as requested and fall asleep on my own.
None of my children are like that.  None.
I could still sleep about any time.
My children, not so much.
Today is the first day of summer break for The Big One, and really all of us, as she goes to a year round school. This means that it is the first day I didn't have to turn on my alarm set for 6:02am, and we didn't have to be out the door by 7:05am.  We could all sleep.  However, we didn't.
My husband still had to go to work, and that meant getting me up to take The Littlest One, who was sleeping on his chest.  We transitioned her, and she went back to sleep.  I got woken up again, though, in his quest to find his blue PT shorts.  At that point, about 6:30am, The Littlest One decided it was time for milk.  So, we got up.  We came down stairs so I could assume the couch and Boppy position, and in minutes, in came The Big One.  I was shocked.  If anyone could would have slept, it should have been her.  She will almost always sleep in if I let her.  Not today, though, when I had hopes of getting The Littlest One fed, back to sleep, and curling back up on the couch to sleep myself.  Before we are even done feeding, The Little/Middle One comes walking downstairs as well.  This wasn't so surprising.  She is an early riser, taking very clearly after her father.
So, there we were, all four of us on the couch, before 7am.  No one was sleeping, no matter how much I wanted to.  Even though not one of my alarms rang out this morning, which I have to admit was nice, none of us got to enjoy that silence and sleep.  I'm quite disgruntled this morning.  As payback, I think I'll go into their rooms to feed The Littlest One when she wakes up at 2am to eat, wake them also, and make them stay up for the feeding.  Then, maybe, tomorrow morning, they will both sleep a little later, or at least leave me alone to sleep so that I don't do that to them again.  I'll take it however I can get it.

Justice for Children

Like every other basically good person in this nation who has seen or heard anything about the Casey Anthony trial, I am deeply disturbed that she got off on the murder charges.  I can't say that I think being found not guilty on the murder charges was the wrong verdict as far as the jury goes.  I believe the jurors when they say there wasn't enough evidence, and that isn't their fault.  I do think they could have found her guilty on child neglect for not even reporting her child missing for 30 days, but at least they found her guilty of something considering how little there really was to go on.  The fact that the jury acted properly, though, doesn't in any way negate the fact that I feel Caylee was robbed of justice.


Justice means many things, but one of the definitions is the quality of being just; righteousness, equitableness, or moral rightness.  Equitableness.  There should be equality in the outcome of this case.  Caylee lost her life, and somehow, Casey should be forced to do the same for it to be equitable, be that the death penalty or life in prison.  That would be justice.  
People are truly outraged that a mother would do this to her own child and get away with it.  So, I have to wonder, will someone, somewhere, try to bring justice for Caylee?  


I was just watching the news, and one of the many people outside the courtroom, holding signs and showing their anger at the verdicts, said that any one of the people there that day would be glad to kill Casey.  I'm sure he meant it.  I'm sure there are a lot of people right now that should the position open up, would gladly volunteer to be the one throwing the switch if Caylee had gotten the death penalty.  In fact, I would say that when it comes down to anyone convicted of murdering a child, there would be no shortage of people who would gladly volunteer to fulfill the duties of an executioner on a murder's judgement day.  


Crimes against children are the worst.  They can't fight for themselves.  We are supposed to protect and nurture our children.  We are supposed to love and care for them.  When life gets hard, or we realize that parenting isn't what we thought it would be, murder or in any way harming the child is not an option.  There are other options.  


A mother I know is going through a lot right now because her husband couldn't take their babies constant screaming and while she was at work open day, he shook the baby.  That is not an option.  There are other ways.  
You put the child down.  You walk away.  You call someone, anyone.  No matter what it is, you find another way.  No child deserves to be harmed.  No child deserves to have their life taken away because you, the parent or caregiver, couldn't handle it.  I can guarantee you that in Caylee's case someone would have taken that baby and loved her, even if her mother didn't.  Instead, a life full of potential was taken.  That should never happen.  


I hope there is justice somehow, someway, not just for this child, but for every child out there who deserves it.