Today marks the third day of summer vacation for my kids - that is the third day without holidays or special circumstances as their last day of school was actually last week. Day one was a fiasco for me. The kids had a great time but it was basically friends and playmates all day that ended in some less than stellar decisions; including throwing mud in the pool *grrrr*, attempts and skinny dipping and messing with the pool pump which really freaked mom and dad out. While these things weren’t the fault of our kids, it was a result of their friends and their actions and led for many discussions and new ground rules. *sigh* Day two went to the opposite extreme with no friends accompanied by plenty of whining (despite my new sign) and fighting. So today I started the day different with a brainstorming session on rules and consequences and calendaring out our plans and activities. It’s been a better day and I’m hoping to keep things rolling. I even scored getting in some math and problem solving with some creative games this morning. Go mom! So there’s hope that I’ll survive this summer.

Speaking of hope, there is a need for much of it for a loved one right now. This past weekend my son’s birthmother was stricken with Sepsis and she is currently battling for her life in ICU on a ventilator and dialysis machine. All that can be done is being done and the roller coaster ride is wild. She is having hours that are good and hours that are bad. This was so unexpected and so our hearts and prayers are full for her and her family right now.

Life can turn on a dime. I suppose that’s the good thing to remember on all those other manic and survival days.

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Family Parenting Sharing Emotions Motherhood

If I were at home with my mom today I’d be on day two of putting together flower arrangements and visiting cemeteries for deceased family. She’s done it my entire life and taught me how important it was to remember and honor my ancestors and all their sacrifices.

I’m a thousand miles away and so can’t help with the grave decorating, but I can pay tribute in my own way here on my blog.

I come from a noble heritage on all sides and I’ve always tended to take that for granted. Just this past month I’ve been reading through family history documents that I have copies of. I love history and when I read these personal accounts and stories it’s like I get a little taste of what it was like in their time. I am so grateful my husband’s grandmother gave me a copy of the family civil war letters because I dearly love reading them. I’m also supremely grateful for extended family who have compiled entire books of family history and genealogy. Without these I would not have any way to know my ancestors. I never knew my mother’s father as he died before she was married and without these histories I would have no way to connect with him or learn who he was.

I often wonder if our ancestors weep over us in our day. They gave their all for us to enjoy all the things we do today. Many of them struggled and sacrificed deeply that we might never know those same struggles and sacrifices. Thanks to them we live in a time of abundance when all we could ever want or need is readily available. We’ve become fat and lazy, feeling entitled to the instant gratification that is so plentiful today. Sometimes I think of this as a love mistake scenario. As a parent you never want your children to suffer any of the same things you did - you want them to have it all, every opportunity and every happiness. Consequently we as parents may overdo it sometimes in giving to our children and in removing painful lessons or experiences. Unfortunately, with no personal experience in painful learning and growth too many grow with ingratitude and cause their parents more pain than they thought imaginable. I hope I’m finding a balance for my children and I think often on what my self-sacrificing ancestors would have to say to me today. I hope I’m showing my gratitude and love and passing it on to my posterity. Maybe we’d do well to have a few more days a year to reflect on a picture bigger than us. There are thousands of years of history above us, ancestors that paved the way for us to be here today. Too often I find myself getting stuck in the rut of my personal here and now - thinking only on my own family that I’ve known in my life time. So just for today (and hopefully many more to come) I’ll spend some time and effort getting to know my ancestors and the heritage they’ve given me.

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Family Sharing Emotions Perspectives Holidays

Influence is a powerful force. So many times we make decisions in our lives based on influence whether we recognize it or not. Many blindly give all power to influence blaming it for “making” them do or say things, or not. I have a real hangup with responsibility so that doesn’t fly with me, but even knowing each of us has the control and power to make our own decisions I readily recognize how powerful influence is.

A few weeks ago I was reading a book that described a powerful scene where influence played a nasty hand. It made me think on my own life and how many times I may or may not have done something that wasn’t me but that I felt pressured to do for appearances or acceptance of peers. In the book, it was a traitorous blow from one brother to another and the consequences were devastating. In fact, neither ever truly recovered from that split decision that was made more for the friends present than for the one making it.

Sometimes you know when you have a profound influence on another person, sometimes you don’t. I think I prefer the ones where I don’t know because you don’t have any reason to ask the ‘what if’ questions. Take my youngest sister for example. I knew the influence I had in her life and consequently I frequently wonder how things might have been different if I had been around longer for her. You see, I was ten when she was born. Having a ten year old daughter now is a stark reminder of how baby crazy girls can be at that age. All my daughter wants to do is babysit for people and hold babies. So it was with me and the timing was perfect to have a new baby sister. I treated my baby sister like my own china doll and she received it very well. In fact, it used to infuriate my older sister because she’d always choose me over her; a personal triumph for me that I secretly relished. Moreover, because she was so much younger than me I don’t remember any sibling struggles or frustrations like I do with those closer to me in age. Our relationship was always different, bordering on parent like for me. I was her protector, her nourisher and a lot of the time her care giver. And then I moved a thousand miles away to begin my new life as a wife. She was only ten and I can’t help but catch myself in thought sometimes about how my influence may have helped her if I’d been around a little longer, especially have a ten year old daughter now.

When I think about my own life and people who have influenced me, my feelings and decisions I find myself smiling. Some have added needed drops in my confidence bucket even though they never knew it. It makes me happy to remember those unseen and unknown influences and even happier to think I may have done the same for someone else sometime. I hope I have.

There’s the famous saying that you may not mean the world to everyone but to someone you may mean the world. I think that’s a good thing to remember when thinking on the intricate web of influence. I think it’s important enough to stop and think about once and while, to take inventory of the type of influence I am on those around me and to work on being the best one I can be, to be a lifter instead of a leaner.

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Sometimes sayings and quotes take root in my heart and plant themselves. Sometimes they’re meaningful, sometimes they’re silly, sometimes they’re even misquoted but none the less when something strikes me they become permanent fixtures in my thought garden. One of these includes the advise that when you truly love something you must let it go. If it comes back to you it’s yours to hold and love forever. If it doesn’t, well the opposite holds true. I don’t remember when or where I heard it but something about it stuck. If you ask my husband today, he’ll tell you it stuck with him too because I hit him over the head with it over 16 years ago. *wink*

It was Christmas Eve of 1991 and we were sitting in his car in my parent’s driveway. I wouldn’t look him in the eye, didn’t want my tears to betray me. I’d made it through the entire anguished evening with his family; endured all the little jokes about future grandchildren and how promising things looked for it with fake smiles and quiet nods, not one tear or indication of how hard it had been to sit there. I’d have been smiling with them under different circumstances - I’d have been smiling if it’d been only a few weeks earlier.

It had been anything but a typical courtship covering a thousand miles, hours of phone calls and daily mail. This was the second time in two months when he expressed feelings of uncertainty. My heart was done with the yo-yo. There had been so many confirmations of this being what he wanted and yet there was this nagging concern that caused him to keep his distance just before he’d see me again, his conviction giving way to fear and uncertainty. Commitment can do that to even the best of men. Now the pattern was repeating from the Thanksgiving holiday, but in my heart I knew if I handled it the same way it would end on the same happy note and we’d be right back here again just a few more months down the road. No, I was done.

I’d played those words over and over in my head all day, ever since he shared his returning doubts. I knew in my heart it was the only thing to do, to force myself to do. Keeping my head down, I weakly said that I’d heard once that if you really loved something you had to let it go, that if it came back it was yours and you loved it with all your heart forever, if it didn’t it wasn’t meant to be. Silence. I took a deep breath and told him I was letting him go. I choked back a sob and waited for a reaction. It felt like several hours passed before I heard anything.

“But I’ll still get to see you and spend time with you while I’m home on Christmas break right?”

“No.”

I could feel the shock register with him even though my face was turned to the window the tears running freely down my cheeks now. He confirmed at least once more that this was it, that I didn’t want to see him again. I said not until he’d made a decision about us, I couldn’t keep doing this. Then I got out of the car and walked alone to the door. I never turned around.

It’s been 16 years since he made his decision. He told me that after a lot of speeding, emotions and self-talk he’d decided it all came down to whether he could picture a life without me in it and if that was what he wanted. I guess sometimes we all need to be pushed out of our comfort zones to find answers for ourselves, or at least learn which questions to ask.

I’m not sure where the time has gone. I can’t figure out how it changed the innocent and childish faces in the wedding photos to the now middle aged parents that stare back in recent photos. Those early faces were so carefree, so young, so unable to comprehend what marriage and family really meant. The faces that look back at me now have some wrinkles of worry, a glimmer of wisdom, and smiles of true joy. Time is a magical thing.

So to my Blake, I tell you on this wedding anniversary how truly grateful I am that you choose to come back to me. Letting you go then was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. We’ve been through many things together that were equally difficult since, but at least we’ve been through those times together. Thanks for coming back. You can rest assured I’ve still got a firm grip and I’ll keep holding on tight.

Other related articles:

To My Sweetheart
15 Years Ago Today
Secrets of a Happy Marriage
The Best Christmas Gift
Why Marriage is Like Computers
What Made Me Fall For Him

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Family Emotions Relationships Marriage

Yesterday was Mother’s Day and it was truly one of the most wonderful I’ve had. There was a time when I dreaded this day, a time in childless years when it tore my heart to shreds. A time, when I remember being told in words, actions, and looks many times how I was not a mother though I desperately wanted to be. Many women with similar experiences continue to struggle on this day even years after finally becoming mothers. I’m grateful to say that while I remember those I truly enjoy Mother’s Day, not just for my own mother and memory of motherly influence in my own life but because I appreciate so much more the blessing of being a mother now. And look at the loot besides!

Can’t beat that. I am so blessed and spoiled!

Now, if I can just stretch my luck and blessings long enough to get all my stuff backed up I’ll be most happy. I’ve got a bad feeling about my computer. *furrowed brow*

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Family Adoption Sharing Emotions Motherhood

No, I’m not talking about the health related ones, though they are no less important. I’m referring to the communication and interaction aspect of strokes. A stroke of a knife can cut the flesh, but the stroke of words can cut the heart. Physical hurts heal even though some may leave their mark in the form of a scar, but emotional wounds to the heart are another matter entirely. Yet we are far more careless with our words than we are with physical influences. Why is that?

Too often we speak without thinking. Too often we share our views and opinions without solicitation. Too often we disgrace the name and reputation of others with gossip and rumor. Too often we use verbal harshness to get what we want. Too often we desecrate the name of divinity. In short, too often we tear down instead of build up.

Words are indeed powerful. They have the ability to lift, raise, beautify, comfort and nurture. And as with all things they have the opposite abilities as well. When you think of the simplicity of a name much can be learned. To hear your name spoken in the positive tones makes your heart soar with pride and security. I don’t have to write the emotions that are invoked when you recall hearing your full name called in “that tone” because you know exactly how it made you feel. Is it any wonder that one of the first commandments given was not to take the name of the Lord in vain? Yet that is trampled under the feet and tongues of men today as much as every other harmful tool of verbal power.

I was struck by a talk on this subject a few years ago. The stark comparison of the speaker who spoke of how the same mouths that spoke prayers and sang praises in beautiful song would yell or speak unkindly. I thought of my own voice and my own tongue. I thought on how I frequently use both for praying and singing but never thought about how I used them in defiling and damaging ways. The title of the talk was “The Tongue of Angels” and to say it left it’s mark on me and my heart would be an understatement. I’ve been keenly more aware of my words and although I’ve got so far to go I’m now on the journey of improving my tongue.

You’ve heard the saying many times “different strokes for different folks” and it’s the truth. I’ve recently been teaching charm classes again and it brings to the surface so much of this topic as I strive to teach my students rules of engagement and common courtesies. Then as I was out catching up on some blogs last night I watched some video clips of a recent blogging convention. My eye was caught by the familiar scene of the convention center room with round tables in hotel ballrooms, their chairs occupied by people of all types, but what captured and held my attention was the one that sat at a table without a laptop. It was a stark reminder of how keystroke minded communication is these days. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that many of the people in that room where having conversations with one another, maybe some even at the same table but with instant messaging, e-mails, comments and blogging. Nearly every person in the video clip had a laptop on the table or in their laps, and it’s why the one who didn’t stood out. Our teens may not carry their laptops around like their adult counterparts yet, but they do carry around their phones and I’ve known many a youth who was having a conversation with the person next to them using their thumbs instead of their mouths. It’s an interesting phenomenon that bears both pros and cons.

On the pro side, I personally find that typing more has made me more aware of my words. When I write something, I go back over it many times and find several places where I edit, re-edit, scratch entirely, etc. The result is that I’ve been fine-tuning my communication and presentation skills. I have to think things through before I commit them to text and sometimes just seeing them in text and re-reading them sheds new light too. I have seen a stark improvement in my writing since I began blogging two years ago. Another advantage for me is the ability for my words to keep up with my thoughts thanks to hands and a mind that learned how to type. And I can do it without writer’s cramp, white-out or an eraser. (A post for another day is a rant on how many people, especially youth today, don’t acquire this skill. Hunt and peck methods were never efficient, but in today’s world I can’t hardly imagine the person keeping up without this skill.)

On the con side for me are many of the opposites. While it is considerably more efficient for me to communicate via text it is far less personal. I find it takes concerted effort on my part to continue working at other communication skills of speech and conversational interaction. I worry about the new generation who are not being taught verbal communication and social interaction skills. Another downside is the ability of doing things because one can without ever questioning if one should. And here we are full circle back to the double edged tongue.

Whether in keystrokes or voice, our words have great power. My goal is to make my strokes those of love and kindness in the lives of those around me. It’s part of working on my life, the masterpiece.

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Emotions Positive Impact Relationships Blogging Deep Thoughts Intellectual

Get it right. Don’t leave yourself standing on a rug that begs to be pulled out from under you. This goes for more than writing, it goes for everything in life. Do your homework, make sure you know what you need to know before you stand on a soap box or any other form to state your case and opinions. It’s just good sense and it doesn’t matter how big or how small your audience or your reach is.

I’ve always been perhaps a little overzealous in my personal life to make darn sure I’ve covered all my bases before I start running. My boss once even told me to remind him never to get on his bad side or cross my path after observing my work for a year. He also told me that he had no problem seeing why I rose so quickly from secretary to regional administrator. It was a nice compliment, especially given that I was not yet 25 years old when I got it.

So where does it all start? Well, I can tell you I wasn’t born with it and I wasn’t handed these traits on a platter. I had to work hard, maybe even harder to gain respect in my job because I was so young. I know some of what I write about on this because I live it every day, I’m not perfect at it but I continue to nurture it every day. My husband has dealt with a lot of the aftermath of me being overly analytical sometimes and worrying about those things. I told you I haven’t perfected it, but I can tell you it’s very strong in me. I can tell you that it involves a great deal of thinking things through from every side, angle and perspective possible. It involves keeping a level head, taking time to set aside initial emotions and reactive thoughts. And it’s what makes me crazy when I see others spout off in various forms without a care or thought about whether what they’re writing or sharing has any foundation or if it’s just reactive vomit that negatively affects others. The recent garbage floating around with political mud slinging, polygamist sects and religious slandering makes me cringe. There’s no point to spreading the muddy water around and you can’t get into the mud without getting some on you. Yet time and again people everywhere jump in never realizing most of it is unfounded, false, taken out of context or exaggerated to gain attention. But it was ever thus.

In two of my favorite classics, “The Count of Monte Cristo” and “Les Miserables” you are introduced to two powerful characters who pride themselves in being servants of the hands of justice, upright and just men. In The Count you meet the unfortunate Villefort, and in Les Mis you meet the also unfortunate Javert. Their ultimate undoing is the unveiling of hypocrisy. For Villefort he realizes in his most desperate moment what a hypocrite he has been most of his life and he goes crazy with the realization and aftermath of his actions. For Javert, the battle is free from personal hypocrisy but he commits suicide when he realizes that to uphold his beloved law would be immoral. Both were extremists, not unlike many people today. It’s the very reason I bring them up. Today’s Villeforts and Javerts run around under the same cloak of blind following. And at the end of the day a blind follower is left with little more than anger and vindictive venom when they realize their pursuits have been vain. They strike at anything and everything, most especially at anything resembling the origins for their initial beliefs or thoughts. In short, they leave themselves standing on a rug which begs to be yanked out from under them.

So I line up my ducks - to a fault sometimes, I admit - before I do anything else. And I really wish others would do the same. Today’s world offers so much to so many. Technology and the Internet make it possible fore every person to be “published” and to read more content on every subject imaginable than one could hope to have time to sift through. Yet, in general we are still married to the idea that if it is in print it must be true. Therefore, misinformation, scams, hoaxes and more continue to run a muck as the muddy streams trickle from source to source. Few if any make the arduous trip up the mountain to the source to learn for themselves what is truth. It is only those who do that find true conviction and peace in their beliefs and knowledge. It’s also why the world is so full of angry people I think.

So I end with where I began. If you’re going to share or write (especially commit it to text) get it right. Follow the first rule of authors everywhere: Only write what you know. Do you’re homework, go to the source, find out for yourself. Enough of all this muddy water.

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Emotions Perspectives Blogging Intellectual

So many things are calling for my attention this morning but my mind is likely to explode if I don’t find a way to get some of these thoughts and memories out. So the laundry, dishes and vacuuming will have to wait while I attempt to organize and store these thoughts here on my blog - my personal pensieve.

The memory mumble in my head has been building for a while now. The culprits for the growth include: 1) watching my daughter and remembering life at her age, 2) being in touch with old classmates, 3) reading. All three seem to have recently collided in the same space of my mind.

My daughter is 10 this year. She reminds me frequently that she’s really almost 10 1/2 because she’ll be 11 this fall. What she doesn’t know is that I need no reminding. Nor does she comprehend how well I understand her feelings of wanting so much to hasten growth not to mention the emotions of girl troubles and boy crushes. But I do remember and watching her experience it is like reliving some of my past on a regular basis, which until recently I’ve completely underestimated the power of. This is intertwined with viewing photos yesterday of some old classmates at my last high school reunion that I didn’t make it too. I saw a picture of one of my best friends when I was her age and it brought back a flood of memories. Then last night as I was reading, I was struck with the harsh reality of how many things we do in our lives because of influence or peer pressure and how that impacts our lives, the lives of others and the memories we lock away.

Lock is an intentional verb in the concept of storing memories. You see I’ve recently come to the realization of how I’ve locked in so many memories, expectations and criteria based on association and timing. Sadly, many of those were done automatically when I was the least capable in my life of looking beyond myself - namely, high school. As I looked through pictures of classmates from a few years ago I found myself thinking terrible things like, “wow, they sure got fat”, or “woof, time has not been friendly to them”, or even “they look as mean and stuck up as they ever were.” These aren’t the things I think when I meet people every day now, I don’t hold them to this standard. And then I thought on how I was being so harsh in my judgments and expectations simply because of association. The fact is, I knew these people when they were teens. The fact is, teens are self-centered and egotistical and often down right unkind. The fact is, teen bodies haven’t been impacted with age. I didn’t think I was a terrible teen, I still don’t. But I concede that I was totally wrapped up in myself, my own fears, anxieties, self conscious worries, etc. Heck, I never wore a short sleeved shirt to school or shorts because I was so sure everyone would notice my horrifically bony elbows and knees. It never even occurred to me that they wouldn’t notice my imperfections because they were so focused on their own. And I certainly never thought on the physical state of maturity and age, I just took for granted that my body would always be the same and therefore only focused on the things I didn’t like about it. This is where hindsight becomes so valuable and we’re back to that reality of not truly appreciating what you had until you no longer have it principle.

What really got me into a muddled mess was thinking about never giving these classmates a chance. I locked in my memories of them at their best or worst and that’s where they live in my mind. It’s why I’m so shocked when I find out how many kids some of them have or how nice they are now that they’re adults and I’d be equally shocked to learn anything negative about my personal heroes and the few I put on pedestals. I’m ashamed to admit it, but to this day there are two girls whose names make me cringe when I first hear them. It was a silly thing that happened clear back in 7th grade when they made fun of me for not having any boobs when I refused to give them my math answers. But it made its mark on me because it hit on the area of physical bodies and so many insecurities I battled with every day being so skinny and nothing but a straight highway. I’m sure neither one remembers it and I’d guess that both would feel terrible today to know how much it devastated me. And that’s the point. Kids are mean. Sometimes they’re just stupid and do and say things without thinking. Most of the time they do or say mean things just to impress someone they’re with because they want so much to be accepted and feel important. This peer pressure makes kids do things they wouldn’t do on their own and often things that are uncharacteristic. This describes the scene I read last night in my book and it made me really think hard on my own locked memories. Moreover I wonder how many people have locked memories of me doing or saying something that was hurtful to them that I’m not even aware of? And wouldn’t I like the chance to be redeemed or make things right?

I’m not sure if this post is really going anywhere or not. I just know I have a lot of thoughts and feelings regarding the many memories in my head right now. As my husband’s 20 year reunion comes up this summer I see and hear so many shallow things regarding these locked memories. Some are so bitter that they have nothing but complaints and unkind things to say. Others purposely attempt to live in those days past because they were the height of their glory days. All I know is that I’ve grown SO much as a person since my school days and the person I am now is the one I’d like my classmates to know, not the growing, insecure teen I was. That means I have to look at each of them with different eyes too. So why is association memory so difficult?

I’ve definitely identified some things I need to work on, namely my own lock box of memories. Maybe it’s time for me to find a key and allow those babies to move around a bit, rub up against some new memories in my mind. Perhaps I’ll start unlocking those trapped memories here in some more posts on specific memories; try to view them in a new and different light. It’s funny what you choose to remember and how when you start thinking on those things other memories find a way of spilling out. It’s part of who we are - a natural process. But if I want to keep growing as a person I think I need to air out some of these memories. Besides that, they’re not all bad. In fact, I’m sure I’ll be surprised at how many good ones are hidden under the locked ones. Hmmmmm that’s something to think about.

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School Sharing Emotions Relationships Parenthood Blogging Reading Deep Thoughts

It seems to be human nature to not truly appreciate what you have until you don’t have it. It doesn’t seem to matter so much whether you ever really had what you now want either, although if you’ve had and lost you know first hand what it was like which can certainly add to the longing. Sometimes it’s even the perception that you thought you had it, when in fact you never really did. Either way the result is the same, you simply appreciate things more if you associate a form of loss with it before.

This morning I stopped to visit with another mom at my son’s school. I have to admit that I don’t know her name or anything about her really. We’ve exchanged a few friendly smiles and hellos on the playground before school starts for our Kindergarten sons. Recently, she’s been coming in a wheelchair and with some assistance, again I don’t know what the circumstances are but I know my heart aches for her. So this morning when we met at the crosswalk on the way back to our cars I asked her how she was doing and she replied that she was hanging in there. I could hear the weight of it in her voice and I told her how seeing her reminded me of myself about 5 years ago when I too was in a wheelchair. And then the entire drive home I considered how blessed I truly am.

I pondered on three primary elements of my life where I got to experience what I’ll call the “Greater Appreciation Algorithm” or GAA for short. (How’s that for pithy?!) The first, thanks to my friend, was my health and ability to walk. This in turn leads to the greatest gift of how you view and thus live your life. Dealing with unknowns is terrifying and lonely, even when you’re surrounded by loved ones. During the three months I battled some bizarre and never defined illness, I experienced some deep soul searching and gratitude training. I learned to be grateful for pain because it meant I could still feel and was still alive. I learned to be grateful for the many years of unfettered freedom and health I’d enjoyed without notice. Consequently, I don’t view life the same way anymore, I recognize each day as the gift that it is determined to make the most of it. There are no certainties; you make the most of what you’ve got while you’ve got it or you die on a bed of regrets. Life is too short for petty offenses, too fragile for postmortems and too wonderful for despair. How grateful I am to have learned this all important lesson before I was 30.

The next thing I thought about was one of those perceived items; the ability to become a parent. Suffice it to say that control in all things parenting from becoming to being one is an illusion. The GAA part of this experience for me is the ability to be a better parent, to recognize more. One woman compared this to experiencing children more on the level of a grandparent because you have different eyes and understanding. There’s some truth in there. At any rate, I find myself being supremely grateful for these parenting eyes even though obtaining them wasn’t something I was so sure I was on board with during the trial and wait. And I am especially mindful of the blessing that the vision was granted before I had children so I could make the most of the short time I have them.

And finally I couldn’t help but consider the blessing of all things temporal. At the height of my personal health trial came the greatest financial storm of my marriage. My husband and I were so close to the edge of losing everything that to remember now still causes my heart to skip a beat. Up to this point, we felt a level of control and confidence in our temporal situation. We were putting money away in a few different retirement and savings programs, paying more than minimum on our consumer debt payments, making conservative big decisions on our home and cars, and enjoying the freedoms of being your own boss. Sounds great right? It was, right up to the point where the revenue stopped, and I do mean stopped - no trickling, no bleeding, just plain gone. Oh, and now we had a mountain of medical bills too. For six months we plugged holes, depleted resources and extended every ounce of credit waiting and hoping for a new job to be in the cards. Not surprising, the climb out of that hole was no small task. But you know what? You keep climbing. No bankruptcy was declared, bills were paid and life continued albeit a bit strained for a while. And what I learned from all of it was that there is a difference in managing your money and in really having money to manage. I learned that money is not just some means to an end, it is a blessing and a gift that enhances your life if you let it. I learned that perception is everything and I learned it before I was 40.

So you see why I consider myself thrice blessed. Each of these primary areas are major aspects of life and I can’t imagine living my life without the gifts of knowledge that are now mine. This morning I thank the sweet lady that comes to school in a wheelchair each day to see her son off. She is an important reminder of just how blessed I am and sometimes you need the reminder. Maybe there really is something to the “gaa gaa” thing. *wink*

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Family Parenting Sharing Emotions Positive Impact Potential Inspiration Perspectives Motherhood Success Deep Thoughts

My friend, Kailani, shared the sweetest post this morning about the tender and simple shows of affection with our kids. It struck a chord with me. Not only because I’ve been there with my own daughter, but also because my son is still in the acceptance stage of this show of affection.

As my daughter is growing I’m learning that although she is becoming resistant to any show of emotion/affection in public or in front of her peers she still craves it. She still asks me to tuck her in at night and she absolutely beams when I call her my princess, baby or anything else complimentary. In fact, just last week I tucked her in giving her a kiss and telling her that she will always be my beautiful princess. She said, “Mom, can tell me that again tomorrow night? Oh, but mom, don’t tell anyone that you do that.” I smiled and gave her a big kiss, wished her sweet dreams and retreated from the room. They grow so fast. In a few more years I’ll have a cat:

Children as Pets - The Cat Years

I just realized that while children are dogs - loyal and affectionate - teenagers are cats. It’s so easy to be a dog owner. You feed it, train it, boss it around. It puts it’s head on your knee and gazes at you as if you were a Rembrandt painting. It bounds indoors with enthusiasm when you call it.

Then around age 13, your adoring little puppy turns into a big old cat. When you tell it to come inside, it looks amazed, as if wondering who died and made you emperor. Instead of dogging your doorsteps, it disappears. You won’t see it again until it gets hungry — then it pauses on its sprint through the kitchen long enough to turn its nose up at whatever you’re serving. When you reach out to ruffle its head, in that old affectionate gesture, it twists away from you, then gives you a blank stare, as if trying to remember where it has seen you before.

You, not realizing that the dog is now a cat, think something must be desperately wrong with it. It seems so antisocial, so distant, sort of depressed. It won’t go on family outings. Since you’re the one who raised it, taught it to fetch and stay and sit on command, you assume that you did something wrong. Flooded with guilt and fear, you redouble your efforts to make your pet behave.

Only now you’re dealing with a cat, so everything that worked before now produces the opposite of the desired result. Call it, and it runs away. Tell it to sit, and it jumps on the counter. The more you go toward it, wringing your hands, the more it moves away. Instead of continuing to act like a dog owner, you can learn to behave like a cat owner. Put a dish of food near the door, and let it come to you. But remember that a cat needs your help and your affection too. Sit still, and it will come, seeking that warm, comforting lap it has not entirely forgotten. Be there to open the door for it.

One day your grown-up child will walk into the kitchen, give you a big kiss and say, “You’ve been on your feet all day. Let me get those dishes for you.” Then you’ll realize your cat is a dog again.

- author unknown

From the day this cute writing was shared with me it etched itself into my memory. I’ve referred to teens as cats ever since. *wink* Here’s hoping I have a few more kitten years with my baby girl and enough wisdom to truly relish the dog years with my boy.

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