Peace

Have you ever wondered what peace looks like? I have a rambunctious 2 year old and I wonder that every day. Park is, by far, my busiest, loudest, wildest, biggest, 2 year old. He usually wakes up in the morning on the wrong side of the bed. Between 6am and 7am, Park wakes, not refreshed for a new day, nooo, he wakes, upset that the old day ended and he obviously wasn't ready for it. Lately he has taken to sleeping on the floor. I've decided that he is doing this because it allows him to be more mobile as soon as he awakes. For instance, just this past week he wakes up in the middle of the night, around twoish, and drags his pillow and blanket into our room, of course he's crying, and crashes in the middle of the floor. By being on the floor, you see, he doesn't run the risk of falling off the side of the bed on his way out. You know, it's dark, and who really wants to make the effort of opening your eyes, it's easier to just know that you're already at the lowest possible point, and stumble your way toward mom and dad's room. In the end, however, the more you stumble, the more walls you hit and the louder you cry, which only makes for a more upset daddy, who is upset that your waking him for the third time tonight. Don't get me wrong, Park has typically been a really great sleeper, but with the advent of sleeping on the floor, he has decided that he can wake in the middle of the night and do as he pleases.

At least, however, at night he is quiet for a few hours here and there. During the day it is all go and always at full throttle. I believe that Park is very, very grateful that he has older siblings, and if he could verbalize that in a coherent way, he would tell them, but not in the way you might think. Park would thank them for leaving doors open, leaving no-no things in easy reach, not paying attention to him when the TV's on, and especially for not freaking out when every thing's quiet. Yep, that's when he does his best work, and try as I might, I cannot seem to get it through my older children's heads when everything is quiet, that is the time to PANIC!! In fact, quiet at my house definitely does not mean peace.

I live for the moment during the day when my little Park man poops out. Then, and only then, do I find peace. Peace that is lasting, if only for an hour or two, and if I'm really lucky and he's really pooped, 3. I have a visual everyday of Peace, and here is what it looks like.

One thing you can count on...

If there is one thing you can count on, it is that you can never count on someone else to have your child's best interest at heart. Time and time again, I hope that people will do what is best for my child, and might I add that these are not just random people, these are people that I am paying to do something for my child, whether it be paying them directly, like a coach or private teacher, or someone that I am paying indirectly through my tax dollars, yet it never fails, I always end up having to get a might testy with them before anything ever happens. While I'm here, let me just add my disclaimer, I know I am speaking generally, and there have been many wonderful people who have gone out of their way to benefit my children, so if you are one of those people, this is not directed at you, just all those other people.

Our school district has been hijacked by a Communist, and it seems that everyone you should be able to count on, is now so afraid of losing their jobs, they have tucked their tails between their legs and are cowering in the corner. How does this happen? Oh that's right, it's government! I guess the tail tuckers have good reason, because the current Principal at my kids school is no longer current. Yep, he decided to buck the dictator, the new superintendent at APS, and they literally found a reason to scour all the computers in the administration office just so they could drum up some charge to get rid of him. I just came home from an Instructional Council meeting with the muckie mucks from the district, of course, not the dictator himself, but his flunkies, and basically the 30 or so teachers that attended the meeting, in the hopes of conveying their concerns, were dismissed by one of these flunkies, without even so much as a "Hmmm, let us think about that." The thing that really got my dander up was, in all their supposed heavy thinking and deliberating, they never contacted a parent liaison from my school, and I would most likely have known, I'm the Parent Association President, to attend any of their committe meetings and ask for an opinion. How does someone decide to make radical changes in something so public as a public school system and not get everyone involved and on board. It seems to me that the only result from a dictatorship is an unhappy populous.

I am getting ever increasingly tired of being told, in round about ways, because of course they would never say it directly to my face, that I, obviously, do not know what is best for my children. Me, the one who suffered through 9 months of torturous pregnancy, 8 times I might add, to bring these amazing little humans into this world, I do not have a clue what is best for them. Nooo, my government does, or, my too big and needs to be split up, school district does. I think they have gotten too caught up in their own assumption of their importance and have determined that I am obsolete. I couldn't possibly know what my children need, because, after all, that is what they went to school for, and that is why they get paid their 6 figure incomes. Well let me tell you something Mr. Superintendent, I pay you that 6 figure income, my tax dollars are the reason you get paid at all. The real truth is that you work for me. If it weren't for the fact that I have those 8 children, you wouldn't even be employed. And by gum, I am sick and tired of it!! I chose to have my children and I am an involved parent, there are more of us than you think, and you're going to sit up and take notice.

Who does that? part 2

...behind the flip door for the gas. Shawn and his friend commented on the funniness of that and the rest is history. We talked for at least another hour that night and spent most of the day together on Sunday and Monday. Sally reared her head Sunday morning at church, but I think she could see the hand-writing on the wall and left without even a goodbye. Shawn and I were engaged by the end of June and married, like I said, in August.

What, you may be asking, does this have to do with, "Who does that?" Well, I will tell you. As you may recall in our first installment, I stated that my daughters had just arrived home from a trip to visit their cousins. While on that visit, they met Sally. You also may be wondering how they would cross paths with Sally. It just so happens that Sally is the sister of Shawn's relatives wife, and our daughter's were staying with that relative and his family. So, on the evening of our daughters arrival, they meet Sally, who was visiting from California. Sally finds out that Ness and Cait are our girls and says something to the effect of, "Do you know me? I'm Sally. I could have been your mother. I'm the one who got your parents together. What version have you heard? Ya, I stood your dad up. I had dated him before. Then your mom asked me if she could dance with him, she was just being respectful to me, since he and I had already dated. Well, your mom and I had dated some guys that were friends, and she cheated on her boyfriend with my boyfriend, so I ended up cheating with her boyfriend. Anyway, she was being respectful because of that. Your mom and I didn't really run in the same circles."

Okay, so here's what's bugging me. I really could care less that Sally got pretty much all the facts wrong..., okay, I care a little. First, Shawn and I never even spoke till after the dance by his car, so I didn't ask her if I could dance with him because we never danced. Second, to be perfectly honest, I never would have felt the need to ask Sally for anything, especially a guy. Third, I didn't cheat on my "boyfriend" with hers, in my vague recollection, it was the other way around, but don't quote me on that. Most, not all, but most guys dated Sally for one reason and one reason only, and that would be the same reason why they typically didn't date me. Fourth, she cared so little for this church activity that she barely showed up for less than 10% of it, however, she remembers the details so vividly and can take credit for our getting together. But, of course, like I said, the misrepresentation of facts does not bug me at all and she can go around telling her version of our story to any Tom, Dick, or Harry that she wants to. What really BUGS me is... Who tells their version of a story that is quite disparaging about someone to that someones kids 22 years later. Get serious!! I mean really, when you've turned 40, shouldn't stuff from 20 years ago just be a distant memory, something that you recall and laugh about with your friends. And don't you think it really says something about a person when, 20 years later, they feel the need to just set the record straight, not with the person directly, but with their KIDS. Even if Sally's version were true, isn't there also something just small and sad in a person who portrays others in a shoddy light, not only to other adults, but really sad when they feel the need to do it in front of children. Thank heaven we have a good relationship with our daughters and they knew that what she was telling them couldn't be true. In the end, we had a good laugh as they shared with us her story. But really people, when you're 40, living in the present is a much better place.

Who does that? part 1

Almost 22 years ago, my husband and I married. We met at a large church activity that encompassed people within a 200 mile circle. I was a city girl and he was from a small town. We met the end of May and we were married by the end of August.

Last night, our 2 teenage daughters, arrived home from a road trip visiting their cousins on their father's side, in that small town. They love these vacations and this was their first occasion to fly solo. To be perfectly honest, I can only imagine the excitement and fun they had on an excursion without the parentals. We sat up very late as they related all their escapades to us. Among their exciting activities, they met a woman who played a small role in our "beginning." Now, as most children do, our kiddos have asked us several times throughout their lives to tell the story of how we met. I wouldn't say it is a story they have memorized, but the general ideas they recall pretty well. The short story is; Shawn had become frustrated with the dating scene and had determined not to attend a regional type church activity. Through the persuasiveness of his older brother, he decided to make the 200 mile trip to the city and attend. The crux of his brother's influence hinged on the possibility of Shawn getting to see a girl he had dated a couple times, several years before. It was a "what the heck" kind of thing.

The church activity was to take place over several days, beginning at a dance on Friday evening and ending with a breakfast on Monday, Memorial day. For the first 24 hours, this girl, we'll call her Sally, was absent from all festivities. Shawn states that he knew this was a distinct possibility as he remembered her to be kind of erratic, but he was really only in it for the prospect of some kissing time, so whatcha gonna do? In Shawn's version, he says that he noticed me the first evening, but was too shy to ask me to dance. I have to confess, I never noticed him the first evening, but that is probably because he spent most of the night holding up the walls. On Saturday morning, we participated in a scavenger hunt throughout the city. I tend to be pretty out-going, bold, and crazy (especially as a young adult). Combine that with my competitive nature, and a scavenger hunt could really bring out the best in me. By my own admission, no one could have missed me Saturday morning. (Just as a side note, my hunting team came in second in the final tally, to a bunch o' boys who took the easy route by just getting a case of ketchup packets from one of their places of work. Lame! Can you tell it still bites? Sorry for the side track...) Shawn says he remembered seeing me from the dance the night before, and, shockingly enough, he still thought I was cute after all my antics that morning. I, however, had yet to see him. I first spotted Shawn that evening at the next dance; and this is where Sally enters our story. I knew Sally from previous encounters. Briefly, 4 years earlier, Sally and I had "boyfriends" who were best friends. I put boyfriends in quotes, because I wasn't old enough to date, so getting to hangout and do things together, rarely happened and the "relationship" didn't last long. Sally had a reputation of being a girl who dated a lot, and back in the 80's, that meant that dating Sally could get you, at least, some mighty lip action. She and I did not hang with the same crowd. This is not to say that I was a saint, but for the most part, the boys that went for Sally did not go for me. So, back to the dance. Sally always made an entrance and the second dance was no exception. She entered through the opposite door that everyone entered through, and was wearing a provocative shirt (gasp!!). One could not help but notice her. She walked across the floor and gave a hug to the cutest guy I had ever seen. "Oh my gosh," I thought to myself, "he is gorgeous!" I had now noticed Shawn! Just as late as she had come, she was gone. Shawn says that they danced a couple times and then she proceeded to tell him that she had a date. What?!! I believe Providence stepped in, because it was after the dance, as we were leaving that Shawn and I met. I had parked next to his '77 Camaro. He and his friend were stalling, you know, hoping to eek out just one more meeting with the opposite sex. I was finally leaving and I had hidden my car keys.... To be continued....

How to choose a pair of glasses

From the very first day I met him, till this day, nearly 22 years later, my husband has not had, nor does he really care to develop, much fashion sense. It's not that he doesn't look nice and relatively in step with the times, because he does. However, that is all because of me. If our marriage had not happened, he would probably still be wearing T-shirt's, Nike basketball shoes and Levi 501's. He would be the first to admit it. The style of his hair, the cut and color of his clothes, the size of his glasses, etc., are "sick", as my 17 year old daughter would say, because I don't want us to look like those parents that are forever stuck in the 80's. Now, I am painting him with a broad brush, because there have been certain times when he has had an opinion, which I find always refreshing, but for the most part, his least favorite thing to do is browse through a store looking for anything fashion related, either for himself, our children, or the home. Once items or clothing have been narrowed down to a reasonable amount of choices, he is then very willing to give an opinion, and we almost always end up seeing eye to eye (or he is just a very smart man). This is not to say that he doesn't want to look "good", it just is a fact that his idea of "good" would have remained in the 80's if it wasn't for me.


Which brings me to my story. Recently we took a trip to California with our entire family. I say entire, because we actually were able to have our married, 21 year old daughter join us, and I had just given birth to our baby girl, literally days earlier. In preparation for this trip, Shawn decided that he needed to get new prescription sunglasses as well as a new Rx. As most things happen in our family, we waited till 2 days before departure to make this happen. Shawn and I set out for a morning of glasses shopping. We got his new Rx and hit several eyeglass stores, finding success at the mall for his sunglasses. Throughout this adventure, however, we had found a deal at a previous store for replacing his current frames with new lenses. This process would mean that he would need to leave his frames with this store for 2 weeks, and that would leave him without glasses for our trip. So, he decides to purchase an inexpensive frame and have them fitted with his Rx, so that he could wear these for the next 2 weeks. By this time in our adventure, I was pooped, after all, I had just had a baby. I asked if I could stay in the car while he figured everything out and he could come and get me if he needed me. Being the wonderful hubby that he is, he of course said yes. What seemed like minutes later, because I had fallen asleep, Shawn was back in the car, beaming that he had accomplished it all. I was delighted for him and we drove home. He mentioned something about the glasses that he had chosen and I asked if he had wanted my help, but he said he knew I was tired and wanted to let me sleep. Right then, I had an uneasy feeling, but after nearly 22 years of marriage, surely he had picked up something. Two hours later he left to pick up his new glasses and leave his current pair there for replacement. He walked into our kitchen and I swear, the 80's (or maybe more the 70's) had come back. My dear, wonderful hubby, had chosen some of the largest frames I had ever seen in 20 years. It was the most hilarious sight. Needless to say our oldest daughters, myself and Shawn had the biggest laugh. The only people who thought the glasses looked nice were my parents, go figure.



As an addendum, we were able to get these glasses exchanged for some I could look at for the next 2 weeks, and funny enough, when we went back to the store and picked the new frames, Shawn commented that he had liked them earlier, but couldn't decide, and ended up with the large ones. Crazy how things we grow up with as teenagers just never quite leave our brains.

What goes through a 2 yr old mind?

I currently have a 2 yr old son, Park. I have had 4, two yr old daughters before Park, and 2, two yr old sons. In fact, he only has one younger sibling. He is basically the baby, and I guess, he was the baby till just a month and a half ago. However, he is unlike any other child I have had. Park's older brother, by 5 years, is Cole. I thought I had it bad with Cole, but Park is taking the cake, the cake stand, the cake cutter, and the lovely lady serving the cake.

Last night, just before bed, after a looong day of "No Park, don't touch that", and " No Park, don't throw that", and "No Park, don't write on that", my dearest son decided to push his mother over the precipice into deranged delirium (or in other words, he threw me over the edge of mental sanity into a state of uncontrolled excitement; and it wasn't good excitement). And, you may be wondering, just what exactly did he do? Well, I'll tell you. As my husband and I were gathering our dear ones around us for a sweet moment of reflection and prayer, (well, not so sweet and not so reflective, but you get the picture) I noticed that Park had ever so quietly removed himself from our presence. For the first moment or two, he was no where to be found, till... almost imperceptibly, we hear the slighest noise coming from the bathroom. Not the bathroom down the hall, the bathroom right there in our master bedroom, the room we had all been in for the last 15 minutes. Yes, on the floor in our master bath, is our 2 yr old with bottles and tubes lying all around him. Nothing toxic, just the expensive stuff, like yeast infection cream, my hubby's $6 a tube patootie cream, hair mousse, hair gel and the like. I know I should be grateful that he hadn't ingested anything, but at the exact moment of discovery, I admit it, I was ANGRY! I'm not going to lie and say that I reacted calmly, like all those parenting books tell us to do. I did not take a deep breath and count to 10, get serious. Do they even live in the real world, those people who write those things? I yelled, nearly at the top of my lungs, and sent him to his bedroom. Then, I counted to 10...no, just kidding. Then, I ranted and raved to my hubby about all the messy, noisy, nasty, crazy,... silly, funny, happy things he had done that day. And then, I went into his bedroom, told him that what he had done was not good and that he was to never do it again, but that Mommy still loved him, gave him a hug and kiss and tucked him in.

Once, a long time ago, a very wise person (my sister), told me:

Heavenly Father makes children look like angels when their sleeping, so we won't go in and wring their little necks for all the naughty things they did that day. So true!

This is about as crazy as it gets

So, sitting here today, I realized just how crazy my life is. Now I know I cannot have the craziest life, and that there are certainly people with crazier lives, but on a scale of one to ten, I have to say that mine is up there.

My newborn slept 7 hours last night, and I wish I could say that I enjoyed it. No, instead of blissfully sleeping, I woke up at 2am, then 2:30, then 3, and if that wasn't enough, 4. To top it all off, just as I feel the REM sleep taking over my exhausted body, my eight year old daughter, bless her little pea pickin' heart, brings me "Shaynie boo", beacuse she's cryin'. "Well not really cryin', but fussing". I know I should be grateful, but it's hard, very hard at 5am when you've only had 4 hours of seriously restful sleep. I want to say, "Brie, bring her back when she's really crying, not just fussin'", in the hopes that I can eek out a few more minutes of zzz's. As Brie hands "Shaynie boo" to me, I have to remind myself that I wanted this; a large family. And in all reality, when I wake up enough to stumble to the bathroom to make the bottle, and I cuddle my little one in my arms and wait the 20 or so minutes for her to drink the whole 5 ounces, while I doze in and out of sleep, I every so often open my eyes and I am sooo grateful. Grateful that I have the privilege to have children and grateful that God would bless me with 8 of them, even if the last one has come when I am 41. I can honestly say, 21 years ago, after the birth of my first child, I never saw myself here. In fact after the birth of Brit, I saw myself having one child. But, as age and insanity set in, I begin to see the exquisite joy and incomprehensible gift having children is. When all is said and done, when the fat lady shows up at my funeral to sing, I will have made a difference in this crazy, messed up world. I will have raised 8 wonderful, amazing, gifted, intelligent, capable, giving, and loving adults, who in their own small and simple ways will also change this world and make it a better place; and who could ask for more. I'm sure when I'm resting in the ground, no one is going to remember what car I drove or how big my house was, but my influence on my children, and their subsequent influence on my grandchildren, will touch the lives of thousands and tens of thousands of people this whole world over. So, even though I didn't get "enough" sleep last night, I got enough; because cradling my newborn in my arms and sharing with her my warmth, my touch, and my love, I have changed the world.