tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36789335036185902632024-03-13T03:34:00.906-05:00Counting CaballerosThe somewhat incoherent and slightly psychotic ramblings of the mother of four kids.Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.comBlogger230125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-62403131982137010372015-04-03T10:20:00.001-05:002015-04-03T10:20:25.857-05:00Debt-Free Disney
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I
am not a Pinterest mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not a
soccer mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I am not a PTA mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have never cut my kids’ sandwiches into
little teddy bears, or made caterpillars out of grapes, or recreated an
impressionist’s painting with their broccoli, mashed potatoes, and grilled
chicken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I often use sarcasm and Bugs
Bunny like dialogue when speaking to my kids, and they understand it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am sometimes quick to anger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our house often looks like a scene out of the
movie Animal House instead of Martha Stewart Living or a Pottery Barn catalog. I
feed them highly-processed, near fluorescent, mac & cheese alongside their antibiotic
free pork chops, because they like it and because it is cheap and easy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I use harsh chemicals to remove the stains
from their clothes and virtually every other surface in our home because it
works.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I let them watch TV because I
watch TV.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I let them stay up late and sleep
late every weekend because I stay up late and sleep late every weekend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All four of them have hand-held electronic
devices that they could spend hours on, and if homework is done and they’re not
on restriction, I let them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It
works for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I should be okay with
that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, I find myself constantly
feeling inadequate. <span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But I finally did something that all parents (whether they admit it or not) aspire to – I took my kids to Disneyworld.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBDq45SCuii3oQuOrg4ikYAMB1e0JiInLKjdzSV4WrHJHS-6xm2TLZh3661S1BkyDE_X3LW230thEMirs0MhDif4mYnCAvJTTDAlV8KgoIn-HC-8ljtNFFpv6iGClXcWAgGtrhH1gANO8/s1600/1050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBDq45SCuii3oQuOrg4ikYAMB1e0JiInLKjdzSV4WrHJHS-6xm2TLZh3661S1BkyDE_X3LW230thEMirs0MhDif4mYnCAvJTTDAlV8KgoIn-HC-8ljtNFFpv6iGClXcWAgGtrhH1gANO8/s1600/1050.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0zDuWT0gTRBGSoIXOsiTy5F8A92nW4rErh9NSa2ceICo3jKyM3H-GJelZhpH8F7Q3MtkRkpM3WVG4d7bEBf7M5a9bIwh-iZM4tGDGJsK6AR5kURmi1g_XnJCJx5BRX_ECa_nld97lEes/s1600/1060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0zDuWT0gTRBGSoIXOsiTy5F8A92nW4rErh9NSa2ceICo3jKyM3H-GJelZhpH8F7Q3MtkRkpM3WVG4d7bEBf7M5a9bIwh-iZM4tGDGJsK6AR5kURmi1g_XnJCJx5BRX_ECa_nld97lEes/s1600/1060.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAOYvI_1reEbQifdECVT8OkSNqZHa1cEGomms4VBdnax1hcBTM2SaNbXXmF9fmb3af0UWwFji3a0QUzn6MY7_sTkC4EKJFCEO5tL1R0nGSlqWaTKD4kVJcjBzDhoR8RFUAGpKupFD75W8/s1600/1186.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAOYvI_1reEbQifdECVT8OkSNqZHa1cEGomms4VBdnax1hcBTM2SaNbXXmF9fmb3af0UWwFji3a0QUzn6MY7_sTkC4EKJFCEO5tL1R0nGSlqWaTKD4kVJcjBzDhoR8RFUAGpKupFD75W8/s1600/1186.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My
husband and I were blessed to receive a week in a condo in Kissimmee, FL from
my parents for Christmas (my mom told me at the end of October), we booked it
for the week of Spring break, and I set off to plan the most magical vacation
ever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I
started on the Disney website – with its bright colors and cheerful music and
bibbity-bobbity-booing all over the place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I found the tickets, went to add 7-day “Park-Hopper” tickets to my cart
for 2 adults and 4 kids, and was prompted to enter their ages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My cart showed 4 adults and 2 kids and the
total was 3-months-worth of mortgage payments, a week’s worth of groceries, and
the blood of a virgin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was certain
that there had to be a mistake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t
want accommodations, I didn’t have a dining plan or a personal guided tour from
Mickey Mouse – we were only buying tickets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They were calling my 11-year old an “adult.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I did a little research and discovered,
sadly, that there was no mistake and that children 9 years old and older are
considered adults by Disney.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, I
guess I sort of get it; the average 9-year old is tall enough to ride
everything in the park, so they should pay full-price, but holy crap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My 11-year old daughter is tiny!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will admit that the idea of fibbing about
her age crossed my mind, but I didn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
did, however, call the reservations people to try and use my awesome
negotiating skills to try for a better deal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I had worked in corporate sales for years before I had kids, and I have
successfully gotten a stubborn group of 4 kids to eat their vegetables, brush
their teeth, and take a bath almost every night, Disney reservations should be
putty in my hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Here’s
the thing:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Disney has more people
wanting to give them money than they can allow in the parks at one time, so
they don’t negotiate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They don’t have
to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They will, however, help you find
the best deal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned that I could
get the 7-day tickets that I wanted, a Memory-Maker package, AND add a single
night at a Disney Value resort with a dining plan to get Magic Bands for all 6
of us for only about $50 more than I was going to pay for just tickets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So that’s what I did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They even let us pay for it over time (which
felt a lot like debt, so I freaked out about 6 weeks later and paid the whole
thing off rather than following the original plan).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so excited to tell the kids about it
Christmas morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Of
course, the snoopy little 9-year old found out early, but she kept her mouth
shut.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">About
2 months before we were scheduled to leave, I had a freak-out moment about the
cost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I called Disney to see how much we
could save if we dropped a day or 2 at the parks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe we should just get <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>5 or 6-day tickets instead of <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>7-day tickets – if I averaged things out, it
should save us about $500 or so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Nope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because this is where the
genius of Disney comes into play.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every
day of tickets that you buy, the price drops considerably.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I asked about dropping one day and
discovered that we’d only save $6 a ticket, or $36 total.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Drop 2-days? We’d save less than $100.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>See, Orlando is chock-full of family-friendly
attractions like Lego land, Universal Studios, and Sea World (if your family is
into animal torture).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Disney does not
want you go and spend any money at any other park – they want all of your money
– so, they make it very expensive for you to leave their park and go somewhere
else during your average 7-day stay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My
kids’ current obsession with Harry Potter meant that I had to look into
Universal Studios for their Harry Potter world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I discovered that there are actually 2 Universal Parks and that they
have Harry Potter World in one and Marvel Universe in the other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obviously, we’d need to go to both.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A 2-day Park-Hopper ticket for the 6 of us
would be about $1,800, but going from a 7-day ticket to a 5-day ticket at
Disney would only save us about $100.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
was too cheap to pull the trigger and decided that this would be a Disney-ONLY
trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we told the kids, they were
completely over the moon excited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Let
me tell you – doing Disney “debt-free” IS possible, but it is NOT easy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our family gave the kids Disney gift cards
that they could spend in the parks for Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was in total save mode.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whenever I was at the grocery store and went
under budget, I would grab a Disney gift card or 2.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a jar on my counter that said “Disney
Dough” on one side and “Mickey Money” on the other, and I would drop random
change and small bills into whenever I had them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was determined not to dip into savings to
pay for this trip, and we do not do credit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I
am happy to say that we had an AMAZING time at Disney.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, it was insanely expensive, and overly
crowded, and there are “stories” that I will tell in subsequent posts
(seriously – people provided a wealth of post material), but it was a great
experience for our family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Disney has a
way of doing EVERYTHING right so that the pain of spending all of that money feels
worth it, and you want to come back and give them more money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I do want to go back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As soon and as often as possible. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-81086149117618540932015-03-03T11:36:00.000-06:002015-03-03T11:36:14.588-06:00Hefty Accomplishments
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4mg4XCoWOEI8wKBofVmo0MTyTPmksWOO5WedmQ7KeacS1nTGFLlV3AaD2RhxWShk9AGEXprePwg8gbBqQ5fy7Iahb5daib4I7ymRQnRom2Wp0cmU4MI7lszST-3HmDcqNUoDC3K3taG4/s1600/iphone+7-18+import+235.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4mg4XCoWOEI8wKBofVmo0MTyTPmksWOO5WedmQ7KeacS1nTGFLlV3AaD2RhxWShk9AGEXprePwg8gbBqQ5fy7Iahb5daib4I7ymRQnRom2Wp0cmU4MI7lszST-3HmDcqNUoDC3K3taG4/s1600/iphone+7-18+import+235.JPG" height="221" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have been actively avoiding
responsibility this week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was sick all
weekend and although I am finally starting to feel some better, I just don’t
want to do anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did stuff last
week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It made me sick. (I know that it
didn’t actually make me sick, but just go with it.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last week was all about cleaning out
clutter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got rid of unmatched and
warped Tupperware, bagged up some old clothes for donation, and set aside some
items to sell (someday).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I even
convinced the kids to get rid of some of the plethora of toys that they move
around their rooms while looking for the toys that they actually play
with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the biggest cleanup happened
in my eight year old daughter’s room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPao8HSzRTdXUKO-St5x-ZL2CxbTpjj5VjPw39GTNj0a9la6gDiUmpZ_JA1ng2tY17Eo0TfORsc0XULZgjqBYKcsjPM7hMflUTv-hsHUiquXgdA_NAODif9j6Z-fW0_mDrnR6pZMSe4uw/s1600/IMG_0431.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPao8HSzRTdXUKO-St5x-ZL2CxbTpjj5VjPw39GTNj0a9la6gDiUmpZ_JA1ng2tY17Eo0TfORsc0XULZgjqBYKcsjPM7hMflUTv-hsHUiquXgdA_NAODif9j6Z-fW0_mDrnR6pZMSe4uw/s1600/IMG_0431.JPG" height="320" width="208" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I used to imagine that my kids’ rooms would look like a
cross between my own childhood room and a Pottery Barn catalog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When they were babies, keeping their stuff neatly
arranged was easy – they couldn’t actually play with any of it and it stayed
wherever I put it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When they were
toddlers, I just gave them a few toys at a time to play with and kept the rest
out of reach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But as they got older,
they gained access to all of their stuff all of the time and my catalog dreams
were shredded along with most of the paper in my house and it all ended up on
the floors of their rooms.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh58fVCcIzzC3eaa8sOAv3LWhilA1Aj5LnjFA2lk14x2DY6SyibYyEQ-CyEktgAujtIKEthRtPEbfNBIOvbr9gwhv6sQpUCM-J3i5pqEgv_vDDWh7j9GSl6OSnjKokvoqYIRK6llo1EwpU/s1600/why.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh58fVCcIzzC3eaa8sOAv3LWhilA1Aj5LnjFA2lk14x2DY6SyibYyEQ-CyEktgAujtIKEthRtPEbfNBIOvbr9gwhv6sQpUCM-J3i5pqEgv_vDDWh7j9GSl6OSnjKokvoqYIRK6llo1EwpU/s1600/why.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My daughter loves her stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I mean, she REALLY loves it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
never wants to get rid of anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Ever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her favorite things are her
stuffed animals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had probably close
to 150 stuffed cats, dogs, birds, unicorns, hedgehogs, foxes, wolves, horses,
etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Name an animal – real or imaginary –
she probably had at least one of them on her bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She has been found asleep on her floor some
nights because she has carefully arranged and tucked in 50-60 stuffed animals
into her bed and there is no room for her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When I informed her that she needed to par it down, I could see the
panic in her face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I suggested that she
arrange them in a line, starting with her most favorite, going to her least
favorite, and that we could start by giving her least favorites to some kids
who don’t have any stuffed animals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
liked that idea, but an hour later, I found her in her room hugging an armful
of animals, and she said “I can’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’re
all my favorite.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sigh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was beginning to think that I would one day I’d walk into
her room to discover that she had disappeared under an avalanche of poly-fill
stuffing and faux fur.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip7j0M_O56pZQOyHAZd08H4eti5MzYdSaxyifJ7A-yXPgm7WdfVQpEEwU4syDlf_1n_LjcqhucD2yp_PwPiu6k2J2HPiAfdoT41NugsjTU8JqzvyNrKqY_gFiFDwqQLypaI8hzQVfssWg/s1600/IMG_8349.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip7j0M_O56pZQOyHAZd08H4eti5MzYdSaxyifJ7A-yXPgm7WdfVQpEEwU4syDlf_1n_LjcqhucD2yp_PwPiu6k2J2HPiAfdoT41NugsjTU8JqzvyNrKqY_gFiFDwqQLypaI8hzQVfssWg/s1600/IMG_8349.JPG" height="314" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I know what you are thinking: “Well, why would you keep
buying them for her if it is such a problem?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But see, *I* don’t buy them for her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Grandma does.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her friends
do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her siblings do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every birthday, Christmas, weekend outing,
etc., she gets a new stuffed animal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
names them all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have distinctive
personalities with likes and dislikes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This one prefers the shelf to the bed, that one likes to be near the
window, the one on the floor is feigning sleep because he doesn’t want to play
with the two under the dresser – there are entire sagas played out in her mind
about these animals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love and admire
her creativity and imagination and I didn’t want to squelch it in any way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wants more than anything to have a REAL
animal of her very own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, we have a
dog (who she loves), but she wants her OWN animal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtMfkz_9lyuaZsPZ58naav36SUVJTXNygKsKUw2Gy4E7dSnGD4cLW3MUNKSphGjhH8-zqD17z6kpJJKePEWmDnOnjCQ0MOsntYViJLNLAZvIuVNrmum_zT4Z3Mr1-64TmRJyur8sXnQvQ/s1600/iphone+7-18+import+378.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtMfkz_9lyuaZsPZ58naav36SUVJTXNygKsKUw2Gy4E7dSnGD4cLW3MUNKSphGjhH8-zqD17z6kpJJKePEWmDnOnjCQ0MOsntYViJLNLAZvIuVNrmum_zT4Z3Mr1-64TmRJyur8sXnQvQ/s1600/iphone+7-18+import+378.JPG" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As most parents will tell you, you can send your kids to “clean”
their rooms all day long, but if you really want it cleaned you need to go in
there with them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So last week, I went
into my daughter’s horribly cluttered room with her, and helped her clean out
things so that she could manage it better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We went through her clothes and got rid of anything that was too small,
torn, or stained.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We tried on all of her
shoes and eliminated the ones that were snug.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And we tackled the stuffed animals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We had already taken 4 trash bags full of clothes and shoes out of her
room, and so I used that momentum to tackle the zoo that she had collected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We went at them with the understanding that
we were going to be sending at least half of them to new homes and we used the “no
touch” method.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would pick up an
animal, hold it for her to see, she would say “Keep” or “Give away” and I would
either put it into her toy bin or into a garbage bag.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She didn’t have to touch them at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She did great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Better than great, actually, because she got
rid of 3 trash bags full of stuffed animals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After we had accomplished the cleanout of things to sell or
give away, we had to tackle the trash that was in her room, and how an 8 year
old child can have that much trash is beyond me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were a few broken things, and some
stuff that was simply beyond donating, but the “art” was the main culprit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know, in college, I participated in “Earth
Day” and I signed a petition urging my campus to consider electronic textbooks
and computer based testing to cut down on the use of paper because it killed
trees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Little did I know that one day my
child would have enough paper in her room to handwrite the complete works of
Shakespeare on in print large enough to be read from across the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There must have been 3-4 reams of paper with
just a mark or two on them, all wadded up and torn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were in stacks on her shelves, in her
closet, in her dresser, behind her dresser, and under her bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And we had to look at all of them because she
was afraid that she might accidentally throw away her masterpiece.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted badly to tell her that she wasn’t Da
Vinci, but I didn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We went through all
12,000 sheets of paper and kept less than 50.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We hung a few up and neatly stored the rest in her desk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Once the dead forest was removed, I saw something odd under
her bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started pulling in out and
was bewildered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had 10-12 collapsed
cardboard boxes stacked up under her bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There were one or two big boxes, but there were also a lot of broken
down shoe boxes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Underneath the stack
were wads of poly-fill and some fabric pieces.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It looked like a rats nest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
asked her what it was all for, and she told me that she was saving it to build
a house for the cat that she was going to get someday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All I could picture was that my daughter was
going to be a hoarder and that she was going to have a cardboard shanty town
for cats in her living room where normal people would have a piano.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I convinced her that the cat that she might
someday have would not need a cardboard house and we added the cardboard to the
recycling bin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">All told, we hauled out 5 trash bags of trash (not counting
the recyclable cardboard).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You would
think that her room would now be a sparse and barren place after a total of 12
bags of “stuff” was taken away, but it isn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>However, now she can find her stuff and she can manage it herself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was very proud of her and the way that she
tackled this with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Unfortunately for me, I have 3 more kids with hoarding
potential and rooms of their very own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
need to recover before I can tackle their rooms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I need to buy more trash bags.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg0l-JN4QV0urGdigI_GzyO9OP__lNkYNsdYnVXuLiE4NHr7eTsnFSHC_HfPXCsEwxbvTUQ47LDb-VaWCeRLRRTsIkck0encBmLi2gEljYvWL7S36GOVF7F_7xql0wEpnzi1kl1dBZLWA/s1600/IMG_0170.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg0l-JN4QV0urGdigI_GzyO9OP__lNkYNsdYnVXuLiE4NHr7eTsnFSHC_HfPXCsEwxbvTUQ47LDb-VaWCeRLRRTsIkck0encBmLi2gEljYvWL7S36GOVF7F_7xql0wEpnzi1kl1dBZLWA/s1600/IMG_0170.JPG" height="320" width="301" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-8334352236394234142015-02-16T08:00:00.000-06:002015-02-16T08:00:05.331-06:00Gray Matter
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I want to talk about absolutes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is so easy to say that we believe in something absolutely
– to stick to your guns, no matter what.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Or at least, that is what everyone wants us to think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it really isn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>So, you think that you are pro-choice?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>What about a drug addicted, prostitute?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A “mother” who no longer wants her child because
at her first check-up discovers that the baby she is carrying is a boy, and she
cannot sell that kid into the sex industry for what she had planned and now wants to abort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still pro-choice?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>What if you are against gay marriage?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a couple, homosexual, who have been
together for more than 15 years, who want to adopt a couple of kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The state where they live will not allow it
because they are not married.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are
not married because the state where they live won’t allow it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The kids?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They are the nephews of one of these people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If they do not adopt them into their very
stable, and loving home, then they will be bounced around the system, from
foster home to foster home, for the next 5-10 years until they age out, thinking
that no one cared about them (despite the fact that there was a loving family
that wanted them; but that wasn’t what “the state” determined as worthy). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>These are just 2 examples of stories that are
floating around the internet right now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They are both true (as far as my limited resources are able to determine),
and they are both tragic. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">They are tragic because there are people who will argue for
that perfectly healthy baby boy to be aborted and for that loving couple to be
denied those needy kids because it is detrimental to “their cause” to say
otherwise. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Do I believe that “gay marriage” is wrong?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Spiritually? Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am a Christian, I believe the Bible, and
the Bible calls it an abomination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Socially?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have friends who do not share in my
Christian beliefs who, I have to say, are wonderful people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of their relationships are better
examples of I Corinthians 13 than some “Christian” marriages that I have
seen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believe that God assigns the
same value to all sin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have friends
who are liars, a few who are thieves, many who exhibit jealousy, one who has
been an adulterer at least 3 times, and yet they are not faced with the
condemnation that my homosexual friends face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I look at these relationships and I struggle to find offense beyond my
faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I acknowledge that I am inviting
much criticism here, but I am not speaking of members of my faith who have
chosen homosexuality (the two are not reconcilable) but I am speaking of those
outside of my faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We” do not protest
the marriage of 2 non-believers of opposite sex, and I question how a homosexual
union is any different – it is the union of 2 individuals who do not share in
our faith.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am calling on you – all of you – to use your God-given
gray matter to say that there are no absolutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Until we tell those in the political and religious pulpits that each and
every case needs to be examined under the unique circumstances pertaining to
it, then the town criers among us are going to determine the rules.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right now, we are a nation divided by the town
criers, the race baiters, and the politicians.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I say that with a completely clear conscience, by the way,
because I used to be one of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used
to be the one who thought that all homosexuals were the guys in pink bouffant wigs
marching in a purple thong across the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought that abortion in cases of rape and
incest was okay because it was better for the victim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought that all government regulations
protected all of the citizens, even if it trampled on a few individual’s rights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was naive. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Some might say that I was stupid.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I accept that responsibility, because I earned it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I earned it by being complacent in so many
things that were wrong or at least headed in the wrong direction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I allowed myself to be swayed by the cherry-picked stories
of social media – I would never give an impressionable child to a guy in a
thong marching on Times Square (Honestly, I have come to learn that most people
like that do not want children) & I would never allow a drug-addicted whore
to use abortion as birth control (and most people like that never become
pregnant to begin with).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was
easy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It required no thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I didn’t have to utilize my gray matter to make that
choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And on the surface, these are easy concepts for anyone with
a religious background or well-rooted belief system.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the problem is that they are NOT ALL easy
decisions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wish that they were.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My life would be so much simpler if everyone
and everything in these situations were absolutes, but they are not.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Is it better for a child to be aborted, or to grow up feeling
completely unwanted and ignored in the “system”, or to be adopted by 2 people
who will love and nurture them into a productive member of society?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are these 2 men or 2 women somehow less
deserving than a heterosexual couple?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>WHY?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>History has proven that
heterosexuality does not equate purity – we have witnessed examples of sex
trafficking, slavery, pornography and worse perpetuated by heterosexual
couples, so why is it that we believe that loving homosexual couples would be
any riskier?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would we be okay, as
Christians, if they were adopted by a heterosexual Jewish couple?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A Muslim couple?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How far away from our traditional faith must
they be before it isn’t okay?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">What about abortion?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When does it cease being a choice and become a child?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ask an expectant mother who <em><u>wants </u></em>the life in
their belly when it becomes a child, and most (not all) will say that it as
soon as they find out about it’s existence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But those who do not want it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
is not a child until it is born and takes it’s first breath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Until then, it is nothing more than a
parasite to them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I struggle A LOT with
this as someone who has carried and given birth to four children of my
own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cannot imagine ending a life
growing inside of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even in the face
of questions like “what if your 12 year old daughter were raped and became
pregnant?” could I condone abortion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>HOWEVER – At that point, I acknowledge that it is no longer my
choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are no longer talking about
me and my body and my life or my future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>IF (God forbid) I were faced with such a scenario, I would talk and pray
with my daughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would seek outside
counsel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would let her know that
whatever she decided, I loved her and would support her, and I would ensure
that she knew that abortion was not her only option.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would hope that I had taught her the value
of life before this had happened and that she would see that something
wonderful could be produced from something horrific.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But – IT WOULD STILL BE HER CHOICE.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Let me try to make it a bit clearer:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Is it okay to abort a baby, but not okay to decide where
that baby is born? (Mid-wifery/home-birth)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Is it okay to decide where that baby is born, but not okay
to have that baby vaccinated? (Anti-vaccination)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Is it okay to force that baby to be vaccinated, but not okay
to give it to a loving, homosexual couple to be raised? (Adoption/gay-marriage)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Should the government be allowed to determine, based upon
blanket assumptions, what food that child should eat?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Federal lunch program)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">What subjects they should focus on and how?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Common Core)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Where and how they should live? (Homesteading/Survivalism)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Is it okay to have this wonderfully individualistic child be
defined by a few random standardized tests? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is it okay for the parents (whomever they may
be) to determine that the educational standards do not define, but rather
cripple, their child?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Should they be
allowed to opt out? What if that skews the results for the other children? (Common
Core/Educational standards)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">What if the child is ill?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Should some bureaucrat in Washington DC have prevue over a child’s
medical treatment? (Medical Marijuana/non-sanctioned FDA treatments/even Obamacare)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have chosen a few of the most extreme examples that are
hot buttons in today’s media, but they are meant to act as catalysts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want you to realize that there are no
absolutes in ANYTHING worth having an opinion of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To me, that symbolizes their triviality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are the issues that distract us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you think that the government should stay
out of situations regarding your doctor, your children, and your bedroom, then
I hate to break it to you, but you are a conservative. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">NOT A REPUBLICAN – A CONSERVATIVE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A conservative believes that there are certain areas that
the government should just stay the hell out of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A conservative believes in a small government
and a great deal of personal liberty. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
am NOT a republican, but I am a conservative.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am proud of being a conservative.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I believe in my individual rights as an American, I believe in my city’s
rights, my state’s rights, and my country’s rights and I understand that they
may not always be in agreement, but that the rights of the individual should
prevail unless they are in DIRECT conflict with the other’s rights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Do I think that you are wrong to choose to not vaccinate
your kids?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hell yes I do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think that you are putting the rest of the
populace at risk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did I still opt to separate
my kids’ vaccines into separate shots in order to minimize risks and identify
potential problems?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You bet your ass I
did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will I fight for your right to make
such choices?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To an extent, but not absolutely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel the same way about home birth, medical
marijuana, gay marriage, gay adoption, and even gun rights, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">THERE IS NO BLACK AND WHITE.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Life is gray matter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There are very few absolutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life requires that we use our gray matter –
our brains – and we’ve been handed a cafeteria plan on morality and expected to
accept it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately, it isn’t that
easy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life is too messy not to use our
God-given gray matter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">USE YOUR GRAY MATTER.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And for God’s sake, quit criticizing me for using mine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-79764898594757348842015-02-11T08:47:00.000-06:002015-02-11T08:47:07.702-06:00Insignificant<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have only blogged once in the past year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could tell you that it was because my life
has been hectic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were exigent
circumstances – there was laundry, housework, dinners, and grocery
shopping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My kids have things going on
that occupy my time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a job –
teaching remedial English in a local community college that could support a
blog of it’s very own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All of that is
true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of that has been true since my
first kid came home from the hospital.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That isn’t why I haven’t been blogging. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I haven’t been blogging because I have had
many things on my mind that are not funny (which is sort of what I set out to
do here – tell the funny stories of parenthood).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have never been afraid to share a serious
post here or there, but EVERYTHING I think about lately has been serious in
nature.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I haven’t shared any of it
because I have been afraid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“WHAT?!” you say, all slack-jawed at your screen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes, I have been afraid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not of what I have to say – Lord knows that I will defend my reasoning
for every one of my beliefs until the day I die, (or I will listen and
contemplate all of the evidence and arguments and shift my opinions accordingly
if needed).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, my fear lies in the fact
that very few are listening and the belief that I must, therefore, be
insignificant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do you know that fear – the fear of “insignificance?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is crippling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I experience it as I watch the news, read articles on
Facebook, as I sit in on PTA meetings, and as I witness my family and friends
make poor decisions. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I see things that
are wrong – things that are a mistake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Solutions that are tinder for a building fire of misfortune on varying
scales and… I bite my tongue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think to myself “That’s a mistake.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And I say nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I bite my tongue because it’s none of my business.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It doesn’t concern me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Does it? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Whether it does or does not, I have opinions about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have “thoughts.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I have been afraid to say what I think, here where I am supposed to be most comfortable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve been afraid because I am “just” a mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am a Christian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A Southerner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A woman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I am white.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Common core?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I must
be biased because one of my kids is failing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ferguson?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I must be a
racist.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Politics?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am just a
back woods Alabama gal’…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I am not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am smart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know
that I am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My opinions are not tinged by where I was brought up, by
whom, how, or when.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My initial reactions
might be, but not my opinions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My opinions are forged in sleepless nights contemplating the
facts of whatever is occupying my mind; and a lot occupies my mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And I feel insignificant.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have opinions, just like everyone else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have ideas of how things could be handled
better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have ideas of how to
improve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I am “just a woman,”… <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“just mom,” … “just a Southerner,” … <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
…just insignificant...<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But we are a nation of “justs,” and none of us are
insignificant. That is the beauty of our society and our government – no
one is insignificant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Or at least they
shouldn’t be).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And yet…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yet, I’d be willing to bet that every one of you reading
this has an opinion on Common Core, vaccination mandates, nutrition standards
in schools, Ferguson, ISIS, gay rights, business rights, individual rights,
etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So why don’t you have a blog
spouting off about what you believe and what you think the “right thing” is?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Because you are afraid of being insignificant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well…stop that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stop
being afraid to say what you think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You’re thoughts are valid and important.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They are just as valid as the next guy’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since when do a bunch of politicians know
what is best for you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
STOP keeping your thoughts and opinions to yourself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I may not have been sharing all of the thoughts and opinions
here, on my blog, but I have been writing to my senators.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have written about the rights for parents,
for business owners, for individuals, for midwives, for parents – you name it –
but I have written to those who are supposed to be my “voice” in the arenas
that matter, because I have realized something….<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No one cares what I think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No one is obligated to, except the ones that I help put into office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are the ones with the power. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And if they are smart enough, they realize
that we, the insignificant, are the ones that gave them that power.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Trust me, they want to keep it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So tell them what you want.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Don’t tell me – I am insignificant – tell them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do you think that businesses ought to have the right to
uphold the principles that they utilized to establish their business?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do you think that mothers ought to have the right to home
birth?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do you think that Common Core is great, or should be
abolished?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is your opinion on ISIS?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Immigration?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The budget?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Marijuana?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do you think that the government should be held responsible
for their part in… well, anything?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Your opinions matter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tell your congressman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Don’t tell me (the individual blogger) – I am insignificant.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But you (the citizen) are not.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And neither am I.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-14553460124437138622014-11-29T15:56:00.000-06:002014-11-29T15:56:17.434-06:00In Case You Were Wondering, I'm Still AliveWow. I had not realized that it had been so many months since I posted something. I could exaggerate about how extremely busy life has been, or make up some stuff about why I haven't posted, but seriously, most of you are parents. You get it. Life happened. So I am sorry if you have been waiting with baited breath for 9 months for a new post from me, but life happened.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have been neglecting my blog in part, because I have entered the world of
academia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, sort of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have begun teaching a basic writing course
– remedial English – at a local community college near where I live.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has been an interesting experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am what they call an adjunct
instructor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That means that I am not
faculty, but more like a contract employee, hired to teach per class.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t get paid much, but it is more than I
was making as a free-lance writer this past year, and the paycheck is
steadier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I was younger, I used to imagine being a college
professor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would see myself in some
sort of hip outfit, pulling into my reserved faculty parking space in a cool
little retro MG with the top down, stepping out with a worn leather messenger
bag full of papers to grade and a latte in hand as I strolled confidently into
a cathedral of a building that would be home to the English department.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not MY English department, mind you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would be much too busy writing and touring
the country promoting my latest novel to run a department.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My students would love me; they would fall
all over themselves to try and impress me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They would ooooh and aaaah at all of my lectures on lofty literary
topics such as “Images of Evil in the Romantic Poetry of Alfred Lord Tennyson,”
and the wait list for my creative writing class would be over a year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That is what I imagined.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That is nothing like what I am doing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am pulling up to an industrial building in my black
minivan and wheeling a milk crate full of papers that I have already graded
into an office only slightly larger than my closet at home that I share with
another adjunct who teaches on the days that I am not here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have students who like me, certainly, but they are all
striving to do as little as possible to at least manage the C required to make
it out of my class and into English 101.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There are a few exceptions, of course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Out of nearly 70 students, I have maybe 20 that have serious
potential.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are the students who are
actually here to learn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They either have
never tried, or they were never taught, but they are capable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They think that I am funny, they say that I
am their favorite teacher, and that no one has ever broken down English and
writing for them as simply and effectively.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They try.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then there are the rest of the students.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ones who have missed 9 out of 12 class
meetings, the ones who have turned in 3 out of 15 assignments, and the ones who
have yet to complete a single weekly journal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They are halfway through the semester and have a daily average of 14, a
journal average of 10, and a test average of 0 because they failed to turn in
the take-home test that they were given 5 days to complete.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are the ones that I want to kick
out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to hand them a pink slip and
show them the door, but I cannot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Community college is state funded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am prohibited from using attendance as a grading tool.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Why it is okay to use attendance as a
grading tool in state funded primary and high school, but not okay in community
college, I have no idea.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my
assessment, it was suggested that I “soften my criticisms” and I wanted to tell
them that I already AM softening my criticisms.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My mother, who has been a teacher all of her adult life and
is now retired, asked me how I was enjoying it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I told her “I love teaching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
despise grading.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I look forward to the
discussion of writing with the 10% of students who can follow what I am saying and
even the additional 20% who wish that they could follow it and make effort
to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I dread seeing the slackers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I could only teach the students who wanted
to learn, it might be worth pursuing as a career, but it is okay as a job for
now.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She replied that the only way I
would get to teach just the students who wanted to learn was to go back to
school, get a doctorate, and teach 500 level courses to others attempting to
get their doctorate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t want to do
that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m not even sure that I want to do it again, which is good
since they do not have any classes available for me at the moment for next
semester.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have told them of my availability, and time
will tell if they have to create another section or two that fit those
parameters, but for now, at least, I am facing unemployment (again).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Part of me is glad, honestly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am looking forward to getting back on track
with my weight loss (which has morphed into “damage control”) and spending some
quality time in my yoga pants with my DVR.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And maybe even writing on my blog.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But now, I have 70 some odd essays to grade before Tuesday…joy.<o:p></o:p></div>
Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-24234333958334620992014-02-27T10:45:00.001-06:002014-02-27T10:45:48.499-06:00Truth Is, Change SucksI am procrastinating.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I just wanted to put that out there so that when you wonder what the point of this post is, you will know that the point is simply to postpone all of the crap I need to get done today -- going to the grocery store, getting on the treadmill, folding clothes, etc. That and I need to vent about dieting so that I don't raid the candy aisle when I finally make it to the store.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Today I am seriously wishing that I could just be comfortable being fat so that I could get me a big ol' Route 44 Coke, a bag of Sweet Chili Doritos, and lay on the couch and stuff my face while I clear the DVR. But all it takes to kill that inclination is for me to try to put on real clothes. You know, clothes with buttons and zippers instead of elastic and stretch cotton. I feel like I should convalesce until I am presentable to the world again. I am doing well though, on the diet and exercise stuff. I've forced myself to exercise, I am eating healthy, non-processed foods, and I tell myself that if I give up and give in now it will undo the torturous hell that I have endured up to this point and I will just get disgusted and want to get healthy again at some point and I'd have to start over. I do NOT want to have to start over. And standing next to skinny people on the beach in June keeps me motivated.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I think I will write a self-help book and call it "Change Sucks But You Are Fat." It will be all about how to make healthy foods more palatable, how exercise won't kill you even if it feels like it will, and how awesome unhealthy food is but also how bad it is for you. It will contain pictures of me on the treadmill looking like I am dying that have captions like "If I can do this, you can do this." or "Just remember that if you stop, you will be fat FOREVER." I will reveal the truth about all of the lies people tell you about losing weight because the reality makes it all easier to bear. For example, all of my life I have been told that "once you get your body off of sugar, you will stop craving it and when you eat it it won't even taste good." This is a lie. Sugar is awesome no matter how bad it is for you. Another big lie is "if you will get into the habit of working out, your body will crave exercise and you will feel worse when you don't do it." Bull. What they ought to tell you is that you will NEVER stop craving sugary stuff, but that it is a slippery slope. Once you eat sugary foods, it is really easy to eat more sugary foods and then you are screwed because you can't stop. And as for exercise, the truth is that you will loathe it unless you are naturally athletic (I am not). You will have to make yourself do it so that you can occasionally have those fattening, sugary treats that you crave so very much. I will also get real about "Healthy Weight Charts" because they are full of lies too. I am 5" 8', I wear a size 11 shoe, I have a barrel chest and 7" wrists. According to "the chart" I should weigh between 126 and 146 pounds. I read that and I want to laugh, then cry, then go eat my weight in Oreos. Those charts are crap and if you search the internet long enough, you can find one that says you are okay just the way you are. I know because I found one that says that a large framed 40 year old woman could weigh up to 197 pounds and still not be overweight. Ignore the charts. Ignore the scale. If you want to know if you are overweight, look in the mirror when you get out of the shower. That is how I found out that I was slowly morphing into Jaba the Hutt. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My weight loss journey began the day that I decided to take my measurements to see if what was reflected in that mirror was accurate. Sadly, the mirror was being kind. I measured my neck, chest, arms, torso, waist, hips, thighs, calves -- everything. I wrote it all down and stared slack-jawed at what was before me. With these measurements, I could probably shop successfully in the men's big and tall section. That was the turning point. That was the last day I had a Route 44 Coke and the first day I got on the treadmill. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Writing all of this out has motivated me enough to get off of the couch and go get on the treadmill so that I can shower and go to the store (avoiding the candy aisle) and buy more lettuce. No, avoiding unhealthy food isn't easy. No, losing weight is not nearly as fun as gaining weight. No, my body will never crave exercise and it will always prefer fatty, sugary, starchy foods. Coke. And bacon. And buttered bread. And THAT is why I must now go get on the treadmill. </div>
Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-62361155280235606042014-02-26T11:11:00.006-06:002014-02-26T11:11:57.175-06:00Mommy ConfessionYesterday, I wrote about my battle of the bulge. Today I am writing a confession.<br />
<br />
A few weeks ago I met a mother who has 4 kids like me. Her youngest will start kindergarten next fall and she asked me a question that sort of threw me for a loop -- "What do you do all day now that they are all in school? I just cannot imagine what it will be like to not have them at home, under foot, needing something every 5 minutes." I stood there, looking like I had been caught in a lie. <br />
<br />
What do I do all day? The honest answer is "As little as possible." <br />
<br />
I know that as a stay-at-home mom, I am supposed to argue that my job is just as hard as someone who works full-time. I am supposed to talk about how I cook and clean and run errands and how incredibly busy my life is running a house full of 6 people -- and it is, sometimes. But many days, I sit on my couch in my yoga pants and drink coffee and write or watch TV until noon. I might put a load of laundry in to wash or dry, I might fold some clothes or load the dishwasher, but I relax a lot. At first, I felt incredibly guilty about this. This woman was asking me a sincere question about how I occupy my time, and I stood there like a deer in headlights trying not to blurt out the only answer that popped into my head, which was "Nothing. I'm really lazy."<br />
<br />
I should feel ashamed or at least a little guilty, right?<br />
<br />
But I don't really feel guilty.<br />
<br />
I feel wonderful.<br />
<br />
For 12 years, I wiped noses and butts, and breast fed, and fixed breakfast, snack, lunch, snack, and dinner for 4 kids. I was an on-demand chef, driver, snuggler, referee, etc. every minute of every day and night until last fall when my youngest started kindergarten. I was about to my breaking point. I was seriously on the edge of losing it and not being a "good mom" because I was a little burnt out. The cracks in my armor were showing. I would fly off the handle and yell about spilt cereal and I might start crying at the thought of a wet bed. So for the past 6 months I have spent a lot of time doing whatever I want to do (which isn't much) while the kids are at school. <br />
<br />
There have been moments of mayhem amid my new found oasis -- there was the dreaded lice and there have been numerous illnesses that required me to do extra cleaning and make extra runs to the doctor and pharmacist, but for the most part, I have been enjoying all of this downtime. I still manage to accomplish everything that I did when the house was full of little mini-me's running around causing trouble, but instead of spending all of that time corralling the chaos, I spend it reveling in the quiet and enjoying the peace. I've read books, watched movies, napped, and I write whenever I want. <br />
<br />
Sometimes the mood will hit me and I want to clean -- like, REALLY clean. Scrub baseboards and such. And if that is what I want to do, great! But I don't want to very often. And that is great too. <br />
<br />
I love being a mom. I love my kids more than anything in the world. Our house is rarely spotless, but it isn't embarrassing (most of the time). The kids' rooms are cluttered....okay, that's an understatement, they look like a tornado hit, but I try to get them to do their own cleaning of their own stuff, so I rarely feel like it's bad enough to intervene while they are away. In fact, I tend to get more done when dad is home and the kids are here and we all work on an assigned task for a set time (like "We have 2 hours until company is coming, everybody 'panic clean!' Go!") And it isn't like I NEVER do anything domestic. Clothes get washed, but they may or may not get folded right away. Bathrooms are clean, kitchen is sanitary, but we live here and the evidence of that is everywhere.<br />
<br />
I think that years of being pulled in different directions while trying to maintain things has caused me to develop a sort of cleaning ADD. Years of being unable to finish a task uninterrupted has left me without the skills needed to stay focused. before kids, I struggled with OCD, so the result is this weird hybrid where I cannot finish a task because I get distracted by the details of a much smaller, insignificant task. When I DO try to get something done, it goes a lot like this: I will go upstairs to collect laundry and notice that there is toothpaste on the counter, so I'll take one of the wet washcloths I just retrieved from the tub and wipe it up. And end up cleaning the whole bathroom. Then I will go downstairs and start the laundry. On the way out of the laundry room, I will pick up a jacket, go to hang it up, and end up reorganizing the entire coat closet. I will go to boil an egg and end up cleaning the kitchen when I only needed to wash the one pot to boil the egg in. I'll walk out to the garage to grab a water bottle and start making a pile of stuff to take to the Goodwill. On my way in from the garage, I'll stop in the laundry room and fold a load of clothes, and when I go to put away the clothes I folded I'll end up cleaning out a drawer...or two...or the entire dresser. Then I have to go get a trash bag from the kitchen to put all of the stuff I pulled out of the dresser in and take it to the garage to add to the pile for Goodwill that I started earlier and when I do, I realize that all of the water has boiled away from my egg that I completely forgot about. So I rescue the now very chewy egg and make a salad in my now clean kitchen and go sit down in front of the TV to eat. (There is still a pile of clothes to be bagged upstairs, the clean laundry is sitting on top of the dresser, the wet clothes are in the washer, and the dryer is buzzing, but now I am sitting down...)<br />
<br />
SOME stuff gets done, but it may not have been the most important stuff and it may not be completely done.<br />
<br />
So my mommy confession is this: No, I do not utilize my time wisely. Staying at home now that the kids are back in school is not as hard as a full time job. It could be (I'll even go as far to say it probably should be) -- but I have made the fairly conscious decision to take it easy (at least for now and for most of the time). Anyone who has pictured me as Donna Reed or June Cleaver running around in heels making beds and vacuuming has grossly misunderstood who I am. I do not live in a 1950's television show nor do I reside in the pages of Southern Living magazine.<br />
<br />
Our family is real and we are messy. If you happen to drop by unannounced, you will most likely find toys on the floor, piles of sorted laundry waiting to be put washed, floors that need vacuuming, dust on the ceiling fans, and a well-caffeinated friend who has plenty of time to sit and talk for awhile. <br />
<br />
Just move that pile of miscellaneous stuff on the sofa over and have a seat. I'll go get you a cup of coffee.Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-36555430293689528222014-02-25T10:05:00.001-06:002014-02-25T10:05:51.093-06:00The 24 DietI have been seriously waging the battle of the bulge for the past 2 weeks. Well, that isn't exactly true. I've actually been battling my bulge for about 39 years, but I have been putting forth some serious effort for the past 2 weeks. I have tried many things that work short term, but I am looking to make a total lifestyle change, not drop 10 pounds for a special event. I have discovered that if I put on a show on Netflix, then I will walk on my treadmill pretty much like a brain dead zombie until it is over. I never watched the series 24 when it originally aired and I picked it because there were 192 episodes and because it is returning in May with all new episodes. I am totally hooked. Yesterday, I got on the treadmill and I walked for 80 minutes (2 episodes) because I was completely engrossed in the story. I could not imagine trying to watch this with a week between episodes.<br />
My weight has always been an issue for me. I am turning 40 in 60 days. I has wanted to lose 40 pounds before my 40th birthday, but that will not happen. See, when I was 20 and I wanted to drop some weight, I would watch it for a few weeks and up my activity for a little bit and drop 25 pounds in a month like it was nothing. Not anymore. Now I amp up my activity, drink only water, cut calories, try to sleep more, and in general do everything that I know I should have been doing for the last 39 years, and I lose a pound a week if I am lucky. Getting old sucks.<br />
The reason that I am so very focussed on this now isn't just because I am about to turn 40. In June I am going to the beach with my family. My family, my sister's family and my parents are renting a beach house for a week. My brother in law is a fireman and a mixed martial artist. My sister does Crossfit. My parents are both slim. The thought of standing next to them on the beach in a swimsuit has prompted my urgency, but my weight is something that I needed to work on anyway. I love everything that I am not supposed to -- bread, pasta, potatoes, Coke, cookies, beef, sauces and gravy -- basically everything that I need to cut to lose weight and be healthy. Those things are all fine in moderation, but it's the "moderation" that I struggle with more than anything.<br />
I read somewhere that when you are trying to lose weight that you should make your intentions very public so that everyone will hold you accountable. I have no problem letting everyone know that I need to lose weight -- it isn't like it is a secret. Anyone who looks at me can tell that I need to lose some weight. My friend Christy and I are attacking our problem together by bragging about our successes and complaining about our setbacks and sharing recipes and tips. While Christy is my confidant on this journey, I have let everyone know that I am trying. The problem is that when you tell people that you are trying to lose weight, they all have ADVICE. Advice is awesome if it is helpful, but the problem is most of it isn't. So here are some of the gems that I have received over the past couple of weeks:<br />
"Just eat less." (Wow, I never thought of that. Thanks.)<br />
"There's this soup that was developed by the Mayo Clinic that I found online -- I lost 10 pounds in a week eating it. It has cabbage and kale and all sorts of vegetables that force your body to drop weight fast. I'll send you the recipe." (Can't wait.)<br />
"Have you ever done a colon cleanse? It can cause you to lose tons of weight by eliminating the excess sludge in your digestive tract." (Yeah, I did one right before my colonoscopy 2 years ago. It is not an experience that I wish to relive.)<br />
"You should get one of those neoprene belts to help you shed the water weight." (Why not one of those with the electrodes from late night infomercials?)<br />
"Have you tried the Paleo diet? Basically you only eat things that the cavemen would have eaten." (Do I look like a caveman? I'm pretty sure that if I tried this diet I would ACT like a caveman...)<br />
"You should do Atkins. You eliminate all carbs until your body goes into ketosis and starts digesting itself." (This sounds...pleasant.)<br />
"There's this clinic downtown that gives you B-12 injections and HGC or something like that. You lose a pound a day." (And gain a pound a day when you stop...)<br />
"Have you tried drinking apple cider vinegar?" (No, that sounds disgusting...)<br />
"Have you considered the grapefruit diet? You eat a half of grapefruit before every meal." (I have tried the one where you eat 2 cookies before and after every meal...)<br />
"You should come to Zumba with me!" (This one is hilarious -- I cannot dance at all).<br />
"My cousin's best friend took this herb that made her lose weight no matter what she ate. I can try to get the name of what she took if you want." (Um, no thanks. Herbs are great, but they act differently for each person. I can pretty much guarantee it will not work.)<br />
"You should try green coffee bean extract." (Or Garcinia, or green tea, or raspberry ketones, or the tears of kangaroos....)<br />
Look, it isn't that I don't appreciate advice, I do. I wish there was a magic soup or an herb pill that would force my body to completely morph into Cindy Crawford, but there isn't. If there was, it would be a well known solution and I probably would have already tried it. I have done some things in the past few months that sound gimmicky but seem to help me feel better even if they don't aid in my weight loss. I have started taking "detox baths" at least a couple of times a week. I do not know how much detoxing is going on, but they make me feel better. I have also started doing something called dry brushing -- using a stiff brush and using long sweeping strokes toward the heart, you brush your skin before your shower or bath. The theory is that it stimulates your lymphatic system and allows your body to metabolize everything more efficiently. I have no idea if that is true, but my skin looks amazing. <br />
I have begun telling everyone that I am on "The 24 Diet." I love explaining that all that means is that I cut calories, drink water, and hit the treadmill while watching 24. By my estimation, I should be good on episodes for at least 12-13 weeks at 2 episodes a day. Of course, when I get all caught up, I will have to find another show...too bad Downton Abbey isn't on Netflix.Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-69866934926823722832014-02-17T09:45:00.000-06:002014-02-17T09:45:15.149-06:00I Am Writing So I Don't Have To Go To The StoreI woke up all achy today. 2 of my 4 kids have had walking pneumonia in the past 2 weeks and I am afraid that I may be getting it. My right shoulder is especially sore feeling, and I am not real sure why. I think I may have just slept wrong. <br />
<br />
Did you ever think of the absurdity of that statement? "I slept wrong." That thing, where you close your eyes and you're unconscious and all you have to do is breathe? Yeah, I did that wrong. So wrong, in fact, that I will be in pain all day because of it. Nothing makes you feel like a winner quite like screwing up a natural body function to the point that you injure yourself.<br />
<br />
I have to go to the grocery store today because everyone in this house wants to eat and I am running out of possibilities. Even at my most creative moments, I cannot think of a way to make dinner out of mini-marshmallows, croutons, and ravioli. I think that moms who plan meals for the week and take detailed shopping lists to the grocery store with their binders of coupons are born with a gene that I do not have. I make grocery lists with some sort of idea of what we will have over the week, but not specifics. My plan is more like 2 days beef, 3 days chicken, 1 day pork, and 1 day pasta. Then I shop and try to use up what I bought before it spoils. I'll use coupons if I have them (and remember to bring them to the store), but only if they're for things that I already buy. I tried to do serious couponing once, but I ended up buying a bunch of crap just because I had a coupon and then it goes bad before I use it. Nothing aggravates me quite like having to throw food away. Not only is it wasteful, but it means that I have to go to the store again. And, it is another ridiculously easy life function that I somehow failed to perform adequately. You know, you must eat to survive, but you failed to do that properly and now your food is ruined.<br />
<br />
I have been procrastinating more than usual lately (case in point -- I am writing this here instead of getting dressed and going to the store). I find myself with grand plans to do something super productive but then I sit and drink coffee and write or Facebook or watch TV (or all 3) and then I am surprised to look up and realize that it is nearly 3 in the afternoon. So to avoid that happening today and resulting in a very odd dinner, I am going to wrap this up and go to the grocery store. I really don't wanna. I want to go back to bed for a do-over and see if it would fix my shoulder. <br />
<br />
<br />Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-5031506744174528332014-01-29T14:13:00.000-06:002014-01-29T14:13:45.493-06:00Thoughts on FriendshipMy daughter had a slumber party last weekend. She was in hog-heaven as 10 girls came (6 who spent the night) and she was the center of attention. I was pleased and proud to discover that at 10 years old, she had made what seemed to be excellent choices in the people that she surrounds herself with. The girls were all friendly, polite, and respectful. There was no drama, no cliquishness, everyone was included and no one left out. It has me thinking about friendship and about all of the friends that I have and have had throughout my life. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoWtzG8NnSfRQb3AYBbWO7_tdKnHJAoLV_WqYo3L3Jm0L-DpaFPew1IU3nO4BF7idw7-9nLBZjmQ7X7ZZMyTBRx1njyQSj6d-k0LdoaoHRyz1HGeNQoUMCYWv73xAPMC_26_EJ7HbI8v0/s1600/AAAAA+Friends+beginning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoWtzG8NnSfRQb3AYBbWO7_tdKnHJAoLV_WqYo3L3Jm0L-DpaFPew1IU3nO4BF7idw7-9nLBZjmQ7X7ZZMyTBRx1njyQSj6d-k0LdoaoHRyz1HGeNQoUMCYWv73xAPMC_26_EJ7HbI8v0/s1600/AAAAA+Friends+beginning.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Our friendships are so very important as we grow up. They help us to become who we are ultimately meant to be. I've had friends who have built me up, friends that challenged me, friends that make me think, and friends that comfort me -- the best friends do all of these things and more. <br />
<br />
When I was a little kid, I remember having groups of friends -- no one any better or worse than the other, we were all just friends. But at some point in our childhoods, our friends begin to take on classifications and we inevitably decide that we click with one or two more than the others, we decide that we don't really play as well with this one or that one, and then there is the whole boy/girl thing that changes the dynamics of our relationships. I remember thinking of someone as my "Best Friend" for the first time when I was about 7. She and I spent the night with one another, we passed notes folded into complex shapes and drawn on with big balloon letters, and we could communicate with a smirk, a raise of the eyebrows, or a wink in the middle of class. We planned to grow up, get married, raise our kids on the same street, and do everything together. We were "Best Friends Forever."<br />
<br />
<br /><br />
Except that we weren't. About 5 years after we made those plans, there was a boy that she liked. She asked me to talk to him to see how he felt about her, and I did. The conversation happened at the skating rink. When I asked him about her, he told me that he liked me. I was shocked. My best friend was prettier than me -- she was blond and petite and I...well, I wasn't. I wasn't fat or anything (although I thought I was), but I was already 5' 7" and just "bigger" than nearly everyone. I did not make the best choice that day at the skating rink. I wanted to save her feelings, so I didn't tell her the truth. I told her that he liked someone else, but I didn't specify that it was me. It became this secret between us. It grew like a cavity. By the following school year, as we entered Jr. High, we were no longer close. I had a new group of friends (all guys, incidentally) and she was a cheerleader.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm6a5tm0S5kHP_GdNXQrRTrqxi74_Z8sUrI8JvPIRm8Vm4f9zFLjkqlPwrNoDmizTweod8MUmv7O4oSnRD9Gbg4OP5m3sHi8OA_iKyBzjJjlDRrlL7BLWIJTCzv59JWrw43K_yFI2s-M4/s1600/AAAAAA+Childhood+friends.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm6a5tm0S5kHP_GdNXQrRTrqxi74_Z8sUrI8JvPIRm8Vm4f9zFLjkqlPwrNoDmizTweod8MUmv7O4oSnRD9Gbg4OP5m3sHi8OA_iKyBzjJjlDRrlL7BLWIJTCzv59JWrw43K_yFI2s-M4/s1600/AAAAAA+Childhood+friends.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My group of guy friends and I stayed close until I left and went to a new school. We tried to stay in touch, but honestly, we were 14-15 years old and had limited say so in where we went and when. Not to mention that the whole dating thing was starting. While our friendships made perfect sense to us and we knew that there was nothing beyond friendship between us, the people that we dated were not so sure about that.<br />
<br />
In high school, I had lots of friends -- but 2 who stand out as those I would consider best friends. One who was easy and comfortable and one who constantly challenged me. These two danced in and out of my life throughout all 4 years of high school. They were both great friends for their own reasons, but they were like oil and water -- they did not mix. Upon graduation, one friend and I had entered the "frienemy" stage while the other friend and I were still very close. We made great plans about how we were going to be best friends for the rest of our lives. We planned to take a trip together to the 1996 Olympics in Atlanta -- we would be Seniors in college or out by then. Our colleges were about an hour away from one another and we had plans to visit each other often. However, life happened. We went to our separate schools and we grew apart. Our lives took totally different directions. It wasn't until her wedding 6 years after high school that I realized we weren't really best friends anymore. I was happy for her, but when I cried at her wedding it was not out of happiness for her, but because I realized that this friendship had morphed into something new and I was mourning the loss of my best friend. Now, other than connecting on FaceBook, our lives never intersect. But just the other day, someone asked me about her and a million memories flooded my head and my heart. I smiled to myself and thought "I used to know her." <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicGvye830nvOM78_apwyXFvmwG3rICvNAs6O-mS_2xRsb3rcmBeGgHRgr98qP21JHIP3wUe6_ZsOqkGD00Gtphh1aj_9UAB4umtKAc7BV6tGH3ETDjpAV4Udt0dBR9ktOrjRBClpKObzo/s1600/AAAAA+Friend+memories.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicGvye830nvOM78_apwyXFvmwG3rICvNAs6O-mS_2xRsb3rcmBeGgHRgr98qP21JHIP3wUe6_ZsOqkGD00Gtphh1aj_9UAB4umtKAc7BV6tGH3ETDjpAV4Udt0dBR9ktOrjRBClpKObzo/s1600/AAAAA+Friend+memories.png" height="320" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Woven in and out of all of these relationships, was the relationship with my cousin. She and I were close as kids, as teenagers, and as adults. We were family. When her first marriage ended, I was on the phone with her constantly -- listening and offering comfort and advice where I could. During our financial difficulties, I would vent to her about our problems and I always felt better after talking to her. I told her everything. But at some point, she began to think that by venting to her about my problems, I was condemning her success. She was remarried. She had started a family. Her career was skyrocketing. And I was "complaining" about my problems. She blew up at me one afternoon on the phone one afternoon, unfriended me on FaceBook, and I have not seen or heard from her since. That was nearly five years ago. I made some attempts to reconnect with her -- At first I called and left her messages, and now I send her a Christmas card every year, but she has made it clear that she wants nothing to do with me and I have accepted that. Friendship cannot exist on only one side. Sometimes, friends leave and we have to just let them go. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXXdarydmVm7bx1aDtShOFDdHCHqjC_7R2_hr7dibioIH04InVrXKRMhF-b_pVWTaipxz6O5BjpaSrFow6oghR5ur_liFl60Cuf6YmlbkgRgjYu9tU4Nzuz3Gejer2EIoMJNcnFgIPbTI/s1600/AAAAAAA+friends+to+strangers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXXdarydmVm7bx1aDtShOFDdHCHqjC_7R2_hr7dibioIH04InVrXKRMhF-b_pVWTaipxz6O5BjpaSrFow6oghR5ur_liFl60Cuf6YmlbkgRgjYu9tU4Nzuz3Gejer2EIoMJNcnFgIPbTI/s1600/AAAAAAA+friends+to+strangers.jpg" height="210" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
There have been many other friends in my life. Some friendships were intensely close and ended extremely fast -- like shooting stars trough my life. Others occur in waves -- appearing briefly at different intervals but never lasting more than a few weeks or months at a time. There is an old saying "True friendship never ends," but I do not believe that is true at all. Every single one of my friendships were true. They were exactly what was needed in both of our lives at the time. My friends have all helped me become who I am in one way or another, and I believe that I have done the same for them.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPe5uKu7PxlPxxvGMVPxN1_cEJSv32H_p2Y0q0kTs_Eht9fxWpPwwSioLXeGMta-cWgANJe8d_vkpNjZ1aiziDmpX1IXbBpmey4n0S6On0PSXwui46wEZ68Fb-t95KHyhi7gJ7yuY4x54/s1600/AAAAA+Friends+make+us+grow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPe5uKu7PxlPxxvGMVPxN1_cEJSv32H_p2Y0q0kTs_Eht9fxWpPwwSioLXeGMta-cWgANJe8d_vkpNjZ1aiziDmpX1IXbBpmey4n0S6On0PSXwui46wEZ68Fb-t95KHyhi7gJ7yuY4x54/s1600/AAAAA+Friends+make+us+grow.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
There are currently 3 women in my life that I would consider my very best friends. One I left in Texas, and two are here in Alabama. All three of these women are precious to me. One of them lived with my family for a month this past Summer with her kids while she and her husband were going through some stuff. She and I text or talk everyday. Another practically lived with us in Texas -- our kids became like siblings to each other and spent every weekend, every snow day, and every holiday piled up together in a sleep over and even our husbands became good friends. It was not unusual to find all of us laughing and talking around my kitchen table at 2 or 3 am on a Friday or Saturday night. They helped us pack our belongings into an 18-wheeler to move back to Alabama in a monsoon despite how badly they wished we weren't leaving. We still talk and text all the time and when we do it is like we are back around that table again. The third I have known since I was about 14, but our families have only become close in the past few years. Our lives are very much alike and our families mesh well together (in fact, her girls were at the slumber party last weekend). I could tell these three women anything. I know that when I tell them something in confidence, it will stay that way. I know that when I complain about my husband or my kids or my bank account or ANYTHING that they will listen, commiserate with me, and then remind me of how good I have it. I know that if I needed them in the middle of the night, they'd be there (even if it was just to let me cry to them over the phone). And I would do all of that and more for them. <br />
<br />
Close friendships are a wonderful and beautiful thing. Like almost all relationships, friendships have to be nurtured but cannot be forced. And regardless of how badly we want them to last forever, no matter how hard we try, some friendships run their course and end. I mourn the loss of past friendships and I celebrate them for what they were. My friends have celebrated the best moments in my life, they've gotten me through things I never thought I'd survive, they've cried on my shoulder and I've cried on theirs. As I changed and grew or as they did, these friendships changed too. Sometimes the friendship ended with a chapter of our lives and sometimes it morphed into a different, more distant relationship. People and circumstances change and they are supposed to. We grow and we change and sometimes the paths of our lives no longer converge with the paths of those that we consider our closest friends. And that is okay.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZMjyo00wA5p9PagygCfpjfCD0B00na0P9PJ1lMdjVaxJz-zoA0HiXo0UmoNL3P1AJAyDG8vnHVDKSkNasDiPg27hdnz29vVJ7SWisvjc2KaozL3nbnQEidc1KWoyBeWanaUURLbZ2Bio/s1600/Aaaaaaaaaa+Friendship+End.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZMjyo00wA5p9PagygCfpjfCD0B00na0P9PJ1lMdjVaxJz-zoA0HiXo0UmoNL3P1AJAyDG8vnHVDKSkNasDiPg27hdnz29vVJ7SWisvjc2KaozL3nbnQEidc1KWoyBeWanaUURLbZ2Bio/s1600/Aaaaaaaaaa+Friendship+End.jpg" height="218" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-8613815619848427382014-01-28T12:27:00.001-06:002014-01-28T12:27:14.750-06:00Thinking Out LoudThis will be a very boring post. I wrote it for myself, and I'm only sharing it on the off chance that others are in the same predicament and might commiserate with me. I'm in a financial funk again. My freelance work has apparently ended thanks to Google and their revamping of their analytics several months ago. The site that I had been writing for was consistently hitting page one after all of the writing I had done for the client and I was really proud of that. Then Google changed the rules and my client is still trying to figure out what the heck she is supposed to do now to get back where we were. The new year has brought new expenses and the little bit of extra income that was helping so much is gone (at least for now). I am seriously considering writing a form letter and sending it out to every business that could possibly need a freelance writer on call in my area to try and drum up some more business, but the problem with that is an act of that sort of desperation makes me look, well, desperate. And if I look desperate, then I run a sincere risk of being taken advantage of. So, what's a snarky freelance writer to do?<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Vent on her blog, of course.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I sometimes look at e-Lance or job boards to get an idea of what's out there and I am always shocked at what people think that ideas and written words are worth. Presumably, you would hire a freelance writer to write for you because you either are not capable of writing in the style that you want, you cannot write in complete sentences, or you are too busy to write the content that you need. Yet despite the fact that writing is a talent that you either do not possess or one that you lack the time to use, you think that it is acceptable to pay next to nothing for someone else to do this for you. (Not my client -- she was awesome and I hope that she will need me again soon). There are literally thousands of jobs out there for freelance writers, but they don't pay anything close to what they're worth. Writing freelance requires more than the ability to write in the proper verb tense. You have to be a researcher, a fact checker, an editor, and a proofreader. Depending on what I am writing about, I may have to spend hours researching the subject matter. While writing about it usually comes fairly easily for me, I cannot write about what I do not know. Also, because I write conversationally, my writing has to be proofread (usually out loud) and then edited (usually extensively since I like to include everything that I found interesting even if it isn't necessary for the article). The typical offered price for these writing jobs is somewhere between $0.01 and $0.07 cents per word, and the jobs are bid upon. Clients will most likely take the lowest bid -- that's just the nature of the beast. But here's the problem -- the lowest bidder may not actually be any better at writing than the client hiring them and the old adage is true that you get what you pay for. My general bid is $0.05 per word because I have to weigh not just the time that it takes to write, edit, and proofread, but also the amount of research that is required. A client may only want a 500 word article which requires me to be concise, or they may want multiple articles on the same subject which requires me to be creative so that they all contain the same information without sounding the same, or they want me to follow a certain template which requires me to adapt my writing style to fit their requirements. All of these things are well within my abilities, but I won't do them for free (or close to free) so I don't win bids. I won't spend 4 hours to research and write a 1,000 word article for $5 or $10. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So why don't I go get a job as a writer where I get a salary and work 8-5, you may wonder? Well, because I have 4 kids. Just since Christmas, I have had at least one kid home sick on 3 separate occasions and if I'd had an office job, I would have had to call in for 4 days. In a month. In about 4 months, I'd have to quit because my kids would be home all day everyday for Summer and I could not earn enough to make paying thousands of dollars in childcare worth working at all. My ideal job would be from home. I would be available a few days a week to come into the office, but for the most part I need the flexibility of telecommuting to make any long-term employment worth mine or any potential employer's time. I know that the "Look out for number one" attitude that is so prevalent in the world today says to get a job and milk it for all it's worth for the next 4 months and then quit in time to stay home with my kids for the Summer, but I just cannot do that with a clear conscious. So I am left looking for a job where I can contribute to the company that I work for while still fitting the unique needs of my situation. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
While I have done some temp work in the past, I know what I lose going that route -- money. The client pays the temp agency $20 per hour and I get $10-12. I'd much rather work directly for an employer and they can split the difference and pay me $15 per hour. I don't need benefits -- heck, I don't even need a desk as I would work from home whenever possible and only come into the office when absolutely necessary.<br />
<br />
Maybe a mass email to area HR departments isn't a bad idea after all....</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-55150125921474605962013-12-25T07:30:00.000-06:002014-01-08T14:30:49.947-06:00Merry Christmas from Our Home to YoursWell, it's Christmas and I have been incredibly busy. I'm always pretty busy but this year Christmas has kicked my butt. Creating Christmas magic and keeping it alive for 4 kids is exhausting and I have failed more than once this season. My daughters wrote letters to Santa and he never answered them, even though our Elf on the Shelf told them that he would. My oldest wrote a very passive aggressive letter -- she asked for something that we can not afford and then said "...but since I know that it is really expensive, I guess I'll just take some books." My youngest daughter didn't ask for anything -- she sent Santa a picture of puppies, kitties, rainbows, and unicorns and she enclosed $1.06, presumably to help cover the cost of what she wants for Christmas. <br />
<br />
We are not rich -- well, we are by many standards. We do not lack money for basic living expenses like food, shelter, medical care, etc. But we drive older cars, rarely splurge on frivolous things like eating out, and budget our money carefully because (as I have mentioned before) we do not do credit. See, years ago, before the 4 little Caballeros came along, we spent money like we were a couple of Rockafellers. We weren't. We did fine, able to make all of our payments every month without much difficulty, but we were still robbing Peter to pay Paul. When we accepted the job in Texas and moved from Georgia, we thought it was a wonderful opportunity to finally get ahead, but then we couldn't sell our house in Georgia. We were no longer treading water, we were beginning to sink. We cancelled all of our credit cards and I spent hours on the phone negotiating lower rates and payments. We wanted to pay our debts, but we also had to be able to pay for our living expenses. We were certain that the house in Georgia would sell or rent eventually, and we just needed to manage until we could remove that expense and begin to make real headway on our debts. It didn't sell or rent, and the end result, after more than 20 months of struggle was bankruptcy. I was so very ashamed. Our house in Georgia ultimately sold at auction for about $28K less than what we owed on it and nearly $95K less than the appraised value. We had whittled down our consumer debt from an all-time high of nearly $40K (the result of using credit cards for over a year to make ends meet on top of the accrued debt and interest from before moving), to less than $18K. All told, we had owed approximately $45K that the courts had "forgiven" and released us from liability for. After the bankruptcy was discharged and we got back on our feet, I made payments anyway until the debts were satisfied. <br />
<br />
During all of this, my kids were watching.<br />
<br />
They learned that being irresponsible with your money has consequences. They learned that credit is dangerous. They learned that fixing your mistakes takes hard work and dedication. And they learned that getting what you need always comes before getting what you want. There were many lean Christmases and birthdays during all of this -- where gifts were much needed clothes or shoes and not toys. One might think that after seven or so years of struggle, we might celebrate by going overboard. And I admit, it is tempting to do just that, but what lesson would that teach my kids? I want them to enjoy life and have nice things, but I also want them to place value on family, love, charity, and NOT on things. <br />
<br />
We started the following tradition a few years ago, and we still try to do this every year:<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><strong>Something you want,</strong> <em>(A big present that is something they asked for</em>)</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><strong>Something you need,</strong> <em>(An item like socks, underwear, or a new backpack)</em></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><strong>Something to share,</strong> <em>(Probably a game or a movie)</em></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><strong>Something to read."</strong> <em>(Obviously, a book)</em></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><strong>Something to eat</strong> <em>(Candy, popcorn, etc.)</em></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><strong>And a group activity,</strong> <em>(A craft set, a board game, etc.)</em></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><strong>Something that's neat</strong> <em>(This is literal -- something to help them organize their crap)</em></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><strong>And something for charity<em>.</em></strong><em> (We are giving each child a small amount of money to either donate or buy something to donate.)</em></span></span><br />
It keeps us from going overboard and it impresses on our kids the importance of sharing, family, and charity, as well as covers some of their needs while still letting them have that magic of Christmas. (And I STILL get to give them awesome presents -- my favorite thing ever.)<br />
<br />
The kids still say things like "I wish we were rich so that we could..." or "When we have the money, can we..." but so do I (even if it is only to myself). I know that they have learned the impact that money can have on your life. We all have because we have lived through the worst of it. Despite that, we have come out wiser, more thankful, and generally happier to be free of it. My oldest girl has learned the joy of giving and being frugal -- she made all of her Christmas gifts herself by spending a bit of her own money to buy the materials. My oldest son usually points out that the things he wants can be bought second hand and that he's okay with that. And my 2 youngest often offer me money of their own (even though it is usually loose change) to help pay for things. And they have also come to appreciate simpler things -- dinner together as a family (even when we are eating Ramen), the rare one on one time that we get to spend with them, and an evening sharing a DVRed television show or movie. They rarely ask for outlandish things, and even when they do they have learned to justify their requests with how it would benefit not just them, but the family. <br />
<br />
The hard lessons that I did not learn until my thirties, my kids have learned before puberty.<br />
<br />
It makes me both happy and sad that my kids are conscious about how much things cost. I want them to be realistic, but I want them to still hope and dream. I hope that when they rip open their presents this Christmas morning that they will have some dreams fulfilled, and that they appreciate what it took to make it all happen. And I will be grateful that their dad and I made their Christmas special without going into debt. Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-86064050636688726052013-12-23T14:29:00.001-06:002013-12-23T14:29:20.762-06:00Don't Mess With Mama BearSooooo, if you have been reading my blog for any length of time, you know that I'm not big on coddling my kids. I certainly support them, but I don't believe that putting them in some kind of protective bubble is doing them any favors. We expect a lot of them -- they know that they are to be respectful of us and other adults and that we place a high value on education. As a general rule, we side with the teachers when there are issues that arise at school. But not always...<br />
<br />
This is my youngest's first year of public school. I was excited for him and was pleased to find out that the teacher that he was getting was apparently held in high regard. Those feelings were short lived. <br />
<br />
He has never been the kid that was excited about school -- when he was in preschool, he often tried to get out of going. He'd rather stay home with me. So when his attitude about going to school every day sort of sucked, I dismissed it. Then there were days when he would cry to not go. There were days he got off of the bus looking defeated. And there were the papers that he was bringing home. In the first few weeks of kindergarten, a class where numerical grades are not given, he was bringing home papers marked up with X's and "-3" or "-4" written in big bold red ink at the top. His handwriting was atrocious because he had not decided if he was left or right handed and the teacher was correcting his spelling. (HIS SPELLING! He's 5!) So I emailed the teacher and asked about the handwriting, thinking that I could open a dialogue with her about that and ramp up to the other issues. The response that I received from her indicated that she was worried about his abilities. She said that there were other problems beyond his handwriting and that she would like for my husband and I to come in to have a conference with her. She was vague, but seemed genuinely concerned, and the tone and language of her emails suggested that there were some serious problems and that they needed to be addressed as soon as possible. This, of course, caused me to be concerned as well. <br />
<br />
I was thinking "Did we miss something? Does he have a learning disability? Are there behavior issues that we have been blind to?" We'd always believed that he was a very bright child -- he was logical, sarcastic, and funny. In preschool, when his teacher had tried to get him to write his whole name, he looked at her deadpan and said "Why? It has a J on it, you know it's mine." He has understood logical correlations since he was about 4, telling my husband once that he knew his big brother wore a size 12 shirt because he was 11 and he wore a size 5 shirt and he was 4. But maybe we'd missed something. Maybe there were problems that we'd missed the signs for. I was very anxious to have the meeting.<br />
<br />
My husband took off of work and we went to the school, preparing for the worst.<br />
<br />
Now, let me just say, I had met the teacher before this, at the open house. She struck me as very....um...."efficient." I asked her that night if she needed all of the items included on the district-wide supply list since I had bought all of the stuff last year and the kids hadn't needed it. Her response to my question was one of near shock -- well of course she needed them all! If it is on that list then I need to buy it and send it in! Okay, 4 packs of 24-count Crayola Crayons AND 3 packs of 8-count Crayola Crayons made no sense to me, but whatever. And I warned her that night that my kid was rather stoic and sarcastic. Her reaction to this news made it clear that sarcasm was not a trait that she valued.<br />
<br />
So when we go to this meeting, we have to sit at the children's table in these little bitty chairs half the size of my butt and low enough that my knees are up by my chin. She has a stack of papers and folders to review with us and I prepare for the worst. She starts out by pulling his pre-kindergarten test scores. We had not seen these, but this initial evaluation was done prior to the start of school, and is used as an indicator for strengths and weaknesses. My kid scored just above average on this (like 608/1000). Then she starts telling us that now that they were 4 weeks in, they re-evaluate the kids to see if progress is being made. I thought, here it is -- he's regressed or just not improved. But that wasn't the case. Not that you'd know it by the way that the teacher presented the information. She said with a ton of sympathy in her voice, "You can see that your son has only gone up to 720/100." I didn't say a word. I was thinking "only"??! It's been 4 weeks, lady! You need to lighten up! <br />
<br />
She said, "Of course I would never reveal how any other specific student scored, but on this scale of scores for this class, you can see that your son falls in the 70th percentile just barely." I said "So he's above average?" She sort of scoffed and said "You have to understand -- I have students in here that are reading at a second grade level." I thought "Well, bully for them. Send them to second grade so that you can help my kid" but I bit my tongue. <br />
<br />
Then she said that my son was having "melt-downs". I said, "Well, he gets frustrated when he can't do something and he sometimes cries out of frustration." She pursed her lips and said, "He's the ONLY one of my kids that does this and the other children just look at him like 'What is wrong with this kid?' when it happens." Seriously? Out of 18 5 year olds, my kid is the ONLY one who ever cries?! I am not sure that I believe that. My husband asked her to give us an example and after we heard it, we knew that the issues between this teacher and our kid probably were not his fault. Apparently, they go out to the playground right before lunch. The door in and out of the school to the fenced in playground requires a magnetic key card to open. When they got to the lunchroom, my son told his teacher that he'd forgotten his lunch outside. She sent him to get it. By himself. He's 5 years old, been in this school for about 2 weeks at this point, and he didn't want to do this alone. She told him that he'd have to go get it "if he wanted to eat lunch" and that he'd need to hurry. (At this point, I am clenching my jaw). Well, inevitably, he got locked out of the building. When I said to her "But he had no way to get back inside, I imagine that he was pretty scared." She said dismissively that there are always other teachers outside and I countered with "But he doesn't know them." She clearly was not understanding my concerns but I was very careful not to explode. We are only in our second year at this school and we have six more years to go before all 4 kids are out; I don't want to use up all of my crazy now when I might need it later.<br />
<br />
My husband, who I could tell was pissed, then asked about any other instances or problems. She said "He has meltdowns in the computer lab. Do you not have a computer at home?" I was becoming increasingly annoyed by her condescending tone so I said "Yes, we have a computer at home, but he is the youngest of 4 kids -- how much time do you think he gets on the computer before his siblings take over?" She said that he started crying in the computer lab because he couldn't make the mouse do what he wanted it to and that all of the other kids were "very taken aback by his outburst." My husband then asked, "Where are you when these things happen and how do you respond?" She said that she was working one on one with other kids who needed special attention and that his outbursts caused her to have to stop and go over to see what was the matter and try to calm him down. So my husband posed a follow-up question: "You say that you work one on one with students who need extra help. Do you ever work one on one with our son?" Her verbatim response "Well, these are kids that tested even lower than your son. I mean, they really need specialized attention. And then there are times that the students who are advanced require one on one time to remain challenged." So, no. Our kid is only slightly above average according to the testing, so he doesn't rank the one on one attention. <br />
<br />
I asked her what she suggested that we do to try to help because I was about ready to punch her and I wanted to get out of there before that happened. Her suggestion was that we should be reading to him for at least 30 minutes a day, going over the daily homework sheet (which takes about 15-20 minutes), make him practice writing his alphabet and numbers several times, and reviewing the sight words. In other words, after he is in school for 7 hours, we should make him do a couple more hours of school work when he gets home. Um, no. He is 5. He should go outside and play when he gets home. The idea that I would make my 5 year old do 2 hours of homework when he is scoring above average (even for his class with the 2nd grade reading level kids) was ridiculous. <br />
<br />
She then began to show us around the room at different things that they do in class during the day. My husband, usually pretty stoic anyway, has grown coldly silent at this point. I can tell by looking at him that he is done. She is chattering on about white boards and centers and mentions that they are always in need of dry erase markers if we ever want to send something in, and then she stops and says "Oh, I forgot. You're the one that doesn't like to buy school supplies." EXCUSE ME??! I know that my mouth fell open at this remark, but I think I recovered quickly and said "I don't mind buying the supplies that are needed, but no, I don't like to buy things because some bureaucrat in the central office thinks that kindergartners might need it." <br />
<br />
She blathered on a little more and I finally said, "Look, I know that my son is smart. He is logical and sarcastic and I think that the reason he hasn't excelled in here is because for whatever reason --" (yeah, I think I know the reason and it's you lady) "--he hasn't been motivated or encouraged to do so." Her response caused my husband to step between me and her to prevent a knee-jerk reaction on my part: "Well, I know you BELIEVE that, but I have to go by what I see here at school."<br />
<br />
After that we wrapped up the meeting and got out of there. In the car, my husband said "We've got to get him away from that woman." I agreed and called the school to request a meeting with the principle.<br />
<br />
At dinner that night, I asked my son "Do you like your teacher?" He didn't look up but said "No." When I asked him why not he sounded so sad when he answered "Because she doesn't like me." It was official. I hated this woman. <br />
<br />
It took a couple of weeks to get in to see the principle, but she was very understanding and listened to us and before we could bring it up, she suggested moving him to a different class. We asked to meet the new teacher first (no use jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire, so to speak). She arranged the meeting for early the following week with the move scheduled to happen the very next day as long as we didn't have any concerns. <br />
<br />
When we told my son over that weekend that he was probably moving to a different teacher's classroom, he was very excited and we decided that the new teacher HAD to be better than where he was now, and we could not wait until Tuesday when we would meet the new teacher and Wednesday when our son would be moved. And we were pleased with the new teacher when we met her -- she is calm, cheerful, and sweet but she is just firm enough for these kids who are getting used to full day school everyday. The change in my son and his attitudes about school have been incredible. He wants to learn. He cares what this teacher thinks and tries hard to do what is asked of him. <br />
<br />
The day of the move, his old teacher called me. She kept saying over and over again that she "was just shocked that he was moving out of her class." She told me that she had never had a parent request that their child be moved out of her room in all her years of teaching. I bit holes in my tongue to keep from spewing all of the things that I was thinking. Finally, the anger bubbling up inside me as she carried on like I must be crazy for depriving my child of her tutelage, burned its way through all of my verbal barriers and I said "We made what we feel was the best choice for our son. He felt that you did not like him, and frankly, so did we. You had us thinking that there was something wrong with our child and when we got to your classroom and saw his test scores, we see that he was just too average for you. He wasn't reading at the 2nd grade level and he didn't score low enough for you to swoop in and play savior to. My husband and I both wondered "Why are we here?" And when we heard about how you sent our 5 year old out to the playground unaccompanied to retrieve his lunch on the second week of school and then acted as if his reaction to being locked outside with people he did not know around him and no way to get back inside was somehow unwarranted, we knew that you were not the teacher for him. It is done. We moved him to what we hope will be a more suitable environment. Get over it." And I hung up.<br />
<br />
About a week later, we were at the school for a PTA meeting. I ran into my daughter's kindergarten teacher from last year. She asked how our son was doing in his new class. I was a little surprised that she knew about it. She said EVERYONE knew about it because the principle had announced it in a staff meeting -- sort of "Oh, and so-&-so will be moving from your class to your class." I said "Oh dear. How'd that go over?" She told me that the old teacher was flabbergasted. I thought "good." She said that she had come up to her after the meeting knowing that she had had one of our other kids and asked about us. She wanted to know if we were problem parents. So, my kid's previous teacher told her that she had never had a problem with us and in fact found us to be very attentive, loving, but non-coddling parents. I gave her a little run-down on the conference that we had had and some of the things our son had said and about the playground incident. She said, "Listen, I have worked with that woman for 5 years and it has taken every day of it to not take everything that she says personally. She is <u>very</u> competitive. We (the other kindergarten teachers) always feel like she gets the cream of the crop and that we get the students that she did not want for one reason or another. She is a cheerleader always clapping her hands at her kids and saying "Go, go, go!! Let's get it done!!" and not every kid responds well to that kind of motivation." No kidding. My stoic son doesn't respond well to that at all. I could just see her acting like some sort of infomercial host and my kid staring deadpan back at her not go-go-going at all. I told her that the old teacher had called me after the move and she just shook her head and said "I told her that was NOT a good idea." Too bad she didn't listen, don't mess with mama bear.<br />
<br />
In the end, our kid is where he needs to be. At his classroom Christmas party (which I did not get to attend since I had pink-eye) his new teacher told my husband how thrilled she was to have our son in her class. She said that he was a great kid and that she wished that she had had him all year long. My husband told her "We do too." His new teacher is amazing and he is learning -- which is what kindergarten should be about.Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-56803760195091895402013-11-13T17:20:00.001-06:002013-11-13T17:20:47.819-06:00Welcome To The Club<i>I have been neglecting my blog. My last post, like all of my political or religious posts, cost me a few followers. I gained new ones in the exchange, but I try real hard not to purposely offend people so it always bugs me when I get a few responses of "I had no idea you were a conservative, so I can't follow you anymore." I had one reader who sent me an email with just 2 words: "Bigot. Unfollowing." Part of me wants to write these people back and try to open a dialogue, but the cynic in me says what's the point? The cynic in me almost always wins. Truth is, the stuff that has been going on with our nation's government has been on my mind. A lot. So it has been hard to write about much of anything without those concerns somehow creeping in. As you may or may not remember, I have been attempting to write a novel. I had to delete about 6,000 words last week because I got off on a tangent that reeked of my political views. So, if THIS post gets a little political, (although it would be pretty hard considering what it is about), I apologize.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
Almost 2 weeks ago, my family joined a club. The "We Had Lice" club. We were recruited, unwillingly, by some other club members at my kids' school. We have received "Lice Letters" from the school 5 different times since school started at the end of August, and we got a new one the Monday of that week. As always, I took an hour or so to thoroughly check all 4 heads the night the letter came home, and found nothing. That Saturday, we were getting pictures made and I wanted to straighten the girls' hair, so I was blow drying the oldest when I saw something. I wasn't sure I had seen it...I wanted to believe that I hadn't seen it...I tried to dismiss it....but there it was. A bug. In my kid's hair. It looked like an alien. As I picked through her hair, repeating "No, no, no" over and over again under my breath and then screaming for my husband to come and provide back-up, I saw a teeny-tiny white thing on the hair shaft, near her scalp, and I was convinced that it was an egg. My kid had lice. My husband wasn't convinced. He didn't see anything. He said "I really think that you are 'nit-picking.' I don't see anything." I stared blankly at him for a moment and replied "Do you know where that phrase 'nit-picking' comes from?!" I explained that we had received another lice letter earlier that week. I called the other kids into the bathroom and began meticulously looking through their heads. My OCD kicked in. My mind was racing. "Is that an egg?" "Is that?!" "What about THAT??!!" I was a little frantic...<br />
<br />
Luckily, (for me at least), one of my dearest friends had just been through this with her own kids. I, on her behalf, had called another of my best friends who is a hair dresser and had asked her what she needed to do. My hairdresser friend used to go to people's houses to delouse their kids (at a hefty price) and I knew that she was an expert. After a few frantic moments of just straight up freaking out, I took a deep breath and began organizing in my head what needed to be done.<br />
<br />
First things first: I called the photographer and let her know what I had discovered. She said the pictures are outside. You are my last appointment. I am booked until April. In short, don't cancel. So I didn't. (And the pictures turned out great). Then I called my kids' friends' parents to let them know what was up so that they could be on the look out on their own kids. (I would call the school on Monday.) Finally, I called our pediatrician's office to let them know and to verify my plan of attack, which was unconventional (and which I will explain in a second). Here is what the doctor told me when she called me back:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
1) She does not recommend the over the counter treatments. Nix and Rid are EXTREMELY harsh. I would have to wear gloves to apply it to my kids' heads and then wash their hair in the sink to prevent the chemicals from touching any other part of their bodies. It would most likely dry their hair and scalp out to the point that they will scratch uncontrollably -- possibly until they drew blood, thereby making further application impossible until the wounds heal. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
2) Nix and Rid are often INEFFECTIVE. That's right, lice in North America are developing resistance to these treatments. Even before resistance began to occur, these products NEVER killed the eggs -- nothing but heat or cold will kill the eggs. That is why these products come with a "Nit Comb." Regardless of what treatment you use, you HAVE TO pick the eggs out manually. It takes forever, they are sticky and hard to see, but if you do not remove every last egg, you will not get rid of the lice.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
3) The level of infestation that I described to her indicated that they had gotten it in the last 2-3 days. She said that one of the worst times of year was NOW and one of the easiest places to get them was the bus. (My kids are no longer bus riders). </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
4) Done correctly, the method that I planned would work perfectly well and I would need to continue to check them daily for the next few weeks to prevent them from re-infesting. </blockquote>
So as soon as we got home, I got to work. I am going to outline here exactly what I did in case you ever find your own family recruited into this club. Here is what you will need to do unless you think that everyone in your family would look good with a buzz-cut:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
1) Gather all of the bed linens, blankets, stuffed animals, etc. You have 3 choices of how to treat these -- dry in a hot dryer for NO LESS THAN 30 minutes (sustained heat for 5-7 minutes should be sufficient, but it takes a bit to get consistent heat through everything in the dryer, freeze in a deep freezer for at least 10 hours, or seal them up in plastic garbage bags (use duct tape to seal the tops) for 1 week. Lice cannot live off of a human host for more than 36 hours, but hey, you can eliminate the clutter for a whole week! We sealed up the majority of the stuffed animals and washed all of the linens in hot water and dried them in a hot dryer and we dried the pillows for 30 minutes. Any recently worn clothes, hats, jackets, sweaters, and coats too. Because we know that our kids got this at school, I did the same with their backpacks. You think you have a lot of laundry now, wait until you get lice. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
2) Brush every tangle, knot and rat's nest out of your kids' hair and your own and then gather every brush and comb that you own. Even if you think the infected kid hasn't touched them, treat them anyway. Clean all the loose hair out, stop up the sink and put them in. Put some water on to boil and once it boils, turn it off and wait for it to stop boiling. Now pour the extremely hot water over the brushes and combs until covered, add a little shampoo, and let them soak until the water cools enough to put your hands in it. Hand wash them all, rinse them well, and let them air dry.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
3) Vacuum everything. We vacuumed carpets, drapes, mattresses, pillows -- all of it. Because we had been out, we also vacuumed the car and wiped down the interior just to be safe. Then empty the vacuum into a plastic bag, seal it up, and put it in the outside trash can. (Again, this is hyper-vigilance since lice cannot survive off of a human host very long).</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
4) Go buy 4 things -- a large bottle of cheap olive oil, tea tree oil, disposable shower caps, and a nit comb. We got a gallon of olive oil from Target for $20 and a small bottle of pure tea tree oil for about $5. The shower caps and nit comb came from a beauty supply store and cost about $10. (Nix and Rid are $20 a box and require 2 boxes per head -- in my family, that route would have cost us at least $240 plus tax. This method let me treat my entire family for around $40 and we have enough olive oil left over to do it at least 2 more times.)</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
5) Cancel all of your plans for at least the next 48 hours. You are not going anywhere. You are about to embark on a nit-picking adventure and you have a ton of laundry to do.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
6) Take the tea tree oil and add 3-5 drops per ounce to everyone's shampoo and conditioner. This will not "prevent" re-infestation, but it will discourage it. I also mixed 5 drops per ounce of water in a spray bottle and I spray the kids backpacks and jackets every day before they go to school, as well as using the tea tree water to spray in their hair as I fix it every morning. (I also throw their backpacks and jackets into the dryer for 30 minutes when they get home every day.)</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
7) You are going to take the olive oil and SATURATE the tangle free hair. Be certain that you rub it into the scalp as well (the scalp is key since this is where they live and feed). I also combed it through with a wide tooth comb and then a fine tooth comb just to be sure that every strand was covered. If you see any eggs, go ahead and pull them out. You will be pulling them out anyway when this first phase is done, so if you see any now you might as well get a jump on it. Once the hair AND SCALP are completely covered, put the shower cap on and wait no less than 2 hours (lice can hold their breath for up to 2 hours, so make sure that you pass that mark). Treat EVERYONE in the house -- even if you do not think that they have any lice because you want to be absolutely certain that you eradicate them all. Start with the youngest kid. It will make your life infinitely easier, trust me. We put on Netflix for the kids to keep them distracted because this is not a pleasant experience -- it is hot and as the oil warms up it runs and that tickles. Of course, I spent this 2 hours running the washer and dryer and researching lice on the internet...more on that later).</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
8) After the 2 hours is up, the fun part starts (not really). Now you have to go through the hair, practically strand by strand. You are looking for eggs. The viable eggs (those that could hatch out brand new lice in the next 7 days or so) will be within 1/4 inch of the scalp. They are darn near impossible to see, especially if your kids have light colored hair, but you can feel them. They feel like little grains of sugar or sand. If you touch what you think is an egg and it falls, then it is not an egg. Eggs are cemented to the hair shaft and have to be slid out. The olive oil will make them a lot easier to remove. You can use the nit comb on shorter hair and to help you separate a section of longer hair to go through, but on longer hair, do not trust the nit comb to get the eggs out. You will have to use your thumb nail and then wipe them off onto a tissue or paper towel. In my experience, at best the nit comb slid the eggs down the hair shaft but it did not remove them. (Just for a little indication of what you are in for, my oldest daughter's hair took me nearly 4 hours to go through -- her hair is almost to her waist and very thick). </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
9) Now that you have done all of that, wash the hair in water that is as hot as you can stand without it being painful. You will most likely have to wash it at least twice to remove all of the oil. Apply conditioner, rinse, and blow it dry until it is completely dry (look through it while you are blow drying and remove any other eggs that you see). </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
10) Now do it again. All of it. The olive oil, the shower cap, the nit-picking, washing and blow drying. If your kids are older, like mine, I put the oil in their hair, put the shower cap on, laid down a towel over their newly dried pillows and had them sleep in it. I DO NOT recommend doing this on younger kids. I did not do this on the 5 year old, just the older kids. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
11) Check them again. Every. Single. Day. I go through my kids' hair thoroughly when their hair is wet because it is easier, but I look all the time. I use a flashlight to make it easier on my eyes.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
12) Repeat the oil treatment 2 more times in one week intervals. (It made my kids' hair look amazing, so we will probably do this every week for awhile). Newly hatched lice nymphs are translucent. It takes 7 days for them to develop into egg-laying adults. So if, by chance, an egg was missed and hatched, in 2 treatments you could eliminate them before more eggs were laid.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
13) Blow dry the hair every single time you wash it. The heat will kill any lice or eggs that you may have missed (although much more effective on the eggs than the lice since the hatched lice can run away). Just 105 degrees of sustained heat for a minimum of 5-7 minutes on the head can kill them. If you have the old fashioned dryer that you sit under, even better.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
14) You may find eggs or egg casings farther away from the scalp -- we found 2-3 close to the ends of the girls' hair the second go-round. Most likely, you dislodged these while you were nit-combing, but didn't get them all the way out of the hair. They are no longer viable (according to the internet, my hairdresser, and my pediatrician), but remove them anyway. I didn't want to take any chances.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
15) Notify the school, your friends, your kids' friends' parents, anyone that you or your kids have been around since you believe that your kids were infested. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
</blockquote>
Here is what I learned: You do not have to use dangerous chemicals to get rid of these pests, but you do have to be thorough and persistent. I go through my kids hair every day now. They hate it, but I haven't found ANY lice or eggs and Saturday will be 2 weeks. I did all of this on a Saturday and Sunday. Sunday night, my hair dresser friend came over to "double-check" my work. She declared them all clean. She was so convinced that they were lice-free that she used <i>her</i> <i>own</i> brushes, combs, clippers, and scissors to cut their hair. When they went back to school, the school nurse also checked them and declared them clean. A second set of eyes REALLY helps -- you will feel like you are going cross-eyed after a couple of heads. <br />
<br />
As annoying as all of this was, the REALLY annoying part came when I called the school on Monday. I love our school nurse. She is good at her job and having 4 kids in the school means that I know her pretty well. BUT -- she is restricted by the bureaucracy and rules that the school has to comply with. The school district does not send kids home or require them to stay home unless the school nurse has personally observed live bugs in their hair. Head full of eggs? Sure! Come on to class! And she isn't allowed to check heads without parental permission unless the teacher has reason to believe that the kid may have lice. Even if a kid in the class has lice, she can't check the rest of the class without permission from the parents. And those lice letters? They do not go out per grade -- they go out per CLASS. Each grade has 6+ classes and they are not restricted to interacting with just their class (or even just their grade). Lice usually die within 18 hours of being removed from their host, but can live off of a human head for up to 36 hours (according to my doctor, my hairdresser, the internet, and every other source that I could find). They cannot jump or fly, but they crawl extremely fast. Direct contact with an infected head or surface is required to share this pest, but in an elementary school, that happens a lot more than you might think. 3rd and 4th grade students are "reading buddies" with kindergarten students, 5th and 6th graders do the same with 1st graders as well as volunteer all over the school -- during PE, in the library, in the lunchroom, etc. But when a kid in Ms. Smith's 6th grade class gets lice (if the parents even tell the school, because there is no rule requiring them to do so), the "Lice Letter" only goes out to Ms. Smith's class. Not the whole 6th grade, and not the whole school as it should. Our school nurse said that the reason was to save the kids any embarrassment. When I asked why they allowed kids with nits to come to school, she said because the powers that be determined that kids were missing too much school as a result of the "no nit" policy, so they changed it. Through talking with her, I could tell that she was not happy about it, but her hands were tied. Learning all of this made me determined to ensure that my kids were not re-infested (hence, the dryer and the tea tree oil and the daily checks).<br />
<br />
As for my chosen method, if you research on the internet and go to Web MD and The CDC site, you will find that it states that the olive oil method has been "disproved." When I asked my pediatrician about that she said that no actual study had been done and that the reason that they say that is because people do not do it right. They put oil on the hair for a half hour or so, don't use a shower cap, don't nit-pick, don't blow dry, etc. and when they still have lice, they claim the method doesn't work. Both my pediatrician and my hairdresser said that the process only works if you are thorough and follow all of the steps. I am here to tell you that it DOES work. I got rid of lice in my house in less than 2 days. My friend who went through this before me, started with the chemical route. She did not try the oil until she had been battling them for nearly 2 weeks. As soon as she did the oil, BOOM, no more lice. <br />
<br />
There are a lot of myths about lice that just aren't true, so I am going to close with a few things I learned from my research. I research all the time -- it is part of my freelance work -- and I go way beyond page one Google results. Here are some of the things that I learned:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
1) Lice prefer CLEAN hair. Having lice does not mean that you are dirty.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
2) Nits take 5-7 days to hatch, 5-7 days to become adults capable of laying eggs, and the adults can live up to 25 days. This life cycle is based upon the bugs being left alone, of course. There have been reports of eggs hatching after 9 days and adults living as long as 30 days, but from the egg to death is no more than 5 weeks according to nearly every single site I visited on the internet. My doctor told me that if I missed an egg, it would hatch within the week, and treating with the oil in one week would kill the nymphs before they had a chance to reach adulthood. The treatment 2 weeks out is considered optional by most everyone (except me. I hate bugs.)</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
3) Only female lice can lay eggs, but once they have been fertilized just once, they can lay up to 100 eggs in their lifespan. Yep, fertilized. Lice reproduce sexually. So if you have eggs, chances are there have been bugs having sex on your head. (Females only have to mate once to be fertilized. Then they can lay eggs until they die.)</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
4) The eggs are laid close to the scalp because newly hatched nymphs must have their first blood meal within seconds of hatching. Eggs farther than 2 inches from the scalp are not considered viable because the newly hatched nymph would be too weak to crawl that far to reach the scalp to feed. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
5) Lice do not transmit any disease, they do not burrow into the skin, and they cannot jump, hop, or fly. Although <i>possible</i>, it is unlikely that a louse would survive off of it's host long enough to be transmitted via hats, carpets, or jackets. Infestation generally occurs through head to head or hair to hair contact.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
6) Head lice CANNOT live on household pets -- they only live on humans.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
7) Scratching does not mean lice. In fact, many kids with lice exhibit NO SYMPTOMS at all. Mine didn't. Had I not been blow drying my daughter's hair, my family could have been completely infested before I ever knew. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
8) There are prescription treatments available for full-blown lice infestations that there has not been any evidence of resistance of, but they are still harsh. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
9) Girls are 2-4 times more likely to get lice than boys, and kids ages 4-14 (where all 4 of mine fall) are the most commonly infected group. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
10) Braiding longer hair can help to prevent re-infestation.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
11) Lice will run from light, preferring to stay in the dark shadows of the hair.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
12) The blow drying will dehydrate the eggs, but live lice will simply run around on the head to avoid the hot air, so blow drying should be done in conjunction with other treatments.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
13) Lice prefer to congregate on the warmest, darkest areas of the head -- behind the ears and the nape of the neck. However, that does not mean that is the only place that you will find them or their eggs. I found most of the eggs on my kids on their crown.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
14) If you or your kid get lice, you have to take care of it at home. Either yourself or hiring someone to come to you. You cannot go to a salon with lice. Professional nit-pickers charge up to $200 per hour. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
15) Hair color, perm solutions, and other common chemical treatments will NOT kill lice. </blockquote>
There is more, but these things seemed to be the most informative and dispel the most myths out there about lice. I opted not to include pictures because, well, ewww. Lice are gross. They look like alien creatures. I figure if you want to see one you can Google it. As for now, me and my kids are lice free and regardless of school bureaucracy, we will stay that way, because I don't do bugs. Period.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
</blockquote>
Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-3204607395256774452013-10-02T07:34:00.001-05:002013-10-02T07:34:47.142-05:00So Here Is What Is Happening In WashingtonThere is a whole lot of political crap going on right now and y'all know I wasn't gonna be quiet about it. I hate, loathe, and detest politics. Politics -- not government. I find government (not THE government) incredibly interesting. The system that our forefathers put in place more than 200 years ago is amazing...when politics aren't screwing it up. Right now politics, or more specifically, politicians are screwing it up. But before we can get into how, we need a little lesson in what our government is and what that means.<br />
<br />
There are lots of different government structures, but most can be boiled down into:<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><br />
<li style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Monarchy or dictatorship: Rule by one (a king, dictator, or emperor)</span></li>
<li style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Oligarchy: Rule by a few</span></li>
<li style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Democracy: Rule by a majority</span></li>
<li style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: black; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Republic: Rule by law</span></li>
<br />
<br />
Many Americans falsely believe that we, here in America live in a democracy. We don't. We live in a REPUBLIC and very few people know the difference. After the Constitutional Convention of 1787 were concluded and Ben Franklin was exiting Independence Hall, a woman named Mrs. Powel from Philadelphia approached him and asked "Well, Doctor, what have you given us, a republic or a monarchy?" Without any hesitation, Franklin responded "A republic, if you can keep it." <br />
<br />
Check out this handy-dandy chart that I found <a href="http://www.diffen.com/difference/Democracy_vs_Republic" target="_blank">HERE</a> that explains the differences. <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><iframe height="557" src="http://www.diffen.com/difference/Democracy_vs_Republic?embed" width="555"></iframe></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The problem in the here and now is that our elected representatives want to act like we live in an Oligarchy and that they are our LEADERS. They are not supposed to be our leaders, they are supposed to represent us in Washington within the constraints of the law -- the Constitution. They are supposed to operate within the constraints of the law to best represent the interests of the people. When they start imposing laws that the people are opposed to, then they have overstepped their position. When they exempt themselves and other special interest groups from certain laws, then they have overstepped their position. And when they refuse to work together to further the interests of the people due to their own pride, their own agendas, or their own personality flaws, then they have abandoned their duty to the people that they represent.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Which brings us to the mess that we currently have in Washington.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Now, I am not sure if you are aware or not, but I am not a democrat or a republican. I am a constitutional conservative. That means, basically, that I am for less government and that the government that I DO support adheres strictly to the constitution. (FYI, the united states constitution is the oldest and shortest constitution in the world, and every bit as relevant today as when it was written.) There are some constitutional conservatives in the republican party, but not many -- most people wrongly lump us all together. I personally take offense at being called a republican or a democrat because I am neither. My values and what is important to me as an American do not line up with either party. In fact, I would love to abolish the 2 party system. I do not believe that any candidate ought to be allowed to say what party they are from -- they ought to have to convince the American public to vote for them on their own merit and not because they are "red" or "blue". </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I also believe in personal responsibility. I do not oppose helping those in need. In fact, I relish the opportunity to help people in need within my own community and I admire those who do the same. On a national level, I have no problem with welfare and other programs as long as they are used to give people a way out and do not keep them trapped in a never ending cycle of entitlement. our welfare programs no longer give people a way out. On the contrary, they are trapping people by convincing them that this is the best that they can do and that the only way that they will get more is if they elect people who will give them more. I know people who have had to take government assistance during hard times in their lives. They used it to do what it was meant to do -- to get out of their situation. That is what it should be -- a way out not a way of life.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Contrary to popular belief, conservatives would like to make it possible for all Americans to be insured. However, we do not think that some 2,200 page pork-filled bill that doesn't apply to the entire country is the answer. I personally read one version of the Affordable Health Care Act -- granted, the version I read was only about 1,800 pages, but the gist I got is that very little of it actually dealt with health care or providing it to anyone. "Obamacare" as it was dubbed by the media, purports to be modeled after "Romneycare" and that may have been true in the beginning, but it has been added to, detracted from, twisted and turned into something that doesn't resemble much of anything. And the democratic party loves it. It makes then feel really good about themselves. And the republican party hates it. Not unjustifiably either, but I personally believe that the majority of the GOP hates it because the democrats love it. See, I can say that because they haven't read it. I can't really blame them, I mean it's 2,200 pages long and they kept changing it. So the republicans came up with several of their own versions of a health care act, but they don't ALL agree on them either. So the democrats, who controlled Congress at the time, passed the ACA without one single republican vote. Let that sink in for a second. Not. One. Bipartisan. Vote. They bullied it through because they had the majority and because they could -- not because it was what was best for the American people. They could not have known even IF it was a good thing because they didn't read it either.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The big stink right now is Obamacare. And while I agree it is a terrible idea as a whole (2,200 pages? Seriously?), there are parts of it that are great -- no caps on coverage, no denial for pre-existing conditions, special needs kids cannot be removed from their parents policies, etc. (Incidentally, I penned my own reform on health care. It's about 225 words. Maybe I should publish it here and then send the link to the House and Senate.) The republicans want to throw the baby out with the bath water while the democrats are treating the bath water like its the good part.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">So now, there is so much disdain between the 2 parties and between the House and the Senate that they won't even sit down together to talk about the Continuing Resolution. (Because the reference to this vote as "the budget" is crap -- this administration has not passed a budget since they took office.) The CR is meant to continue to fund the government beyond the spending limits until they can meet and argue over raising the debt ceiling so that they can spend more money (money that they don't really have, by the way since we are already $16 TRILLION in debt). The House, which is controlled by the republicans, saw the CR as an opportunity to give the people an exemption from the health care mandate. It doesn't do away with Obamacare. What it does is gives the individual the same exemptions that the administrations have already granted to companies and corporations all over the country -- a one year delay. In light of the complete failure of the Obamacare roll out on October 1st, I don't see the problem with delaying the mandate for a year. They also want to do away with the excise tax on medical equipment because it will cause jobs to be shipped overseas, slow medical innovations, and cost Americans jobs. (Backup to these claims can be found in this 2012 article from the industry itself <a href="http://medcitynews.com/2012/04/acas-2013-medical-device-tax-has-already-killed-jobs-expansion-plans/" target="_blank">HERE</a>). Again, I don't have a problem with this either. Then, they wanted to eliminate the exemptions for the Congress and the rest of the administration. If this is so great, I do not see the problem. But the Senate is so pissed that they have questioned anything that they won't budge. To date, the republican house has sent four CR drafts to the Senate that fully funded the government through the end of the year except for funding Obamacare. All 4 were rejected with little or no consideration. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">So the government shut down. 800,000 people will not go to work, will not get paid, cannot support themselves or their families. THAT I have a problem with.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Who do I blame? ALL of them. Obama too, because a leader would get in there and force them to talk to each other. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">So what is the answer? I don't know. What I do know, is that they need to get their acts together and do their jobs and quit posturing and pouting and trying to get their way. Because THEIR way doesn't matter -- they work for us.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">So here is what I wish our representatives would do -- both democrats and republicans -- go home. Go back to your states and talk to your constituency and find out what THEY want. Then tuck your pride and your ego away and go back to Washington and talk to each other. I WANT THEM TO DO THEIR JOBS.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">And people wonder why I am so in favor of LESS government. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><i>Two years ago, I wrote <a href="http://countingmy4caballeros.blogspot.com/2011/11/if-i-were-queen.html" target="_blank">THIS</a> about some of the things that I would do if I was in charge. Most of it is still an issue in government today. I think that the government is completely out of touch with the people that they represent. </i></span>Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-47556568729921973572013-10-01T15:16:00.000-05:002013-10-01T15:16:35.293-05:00I Am the Meanest Mom in the Whole WorldI have a cold. I am positive that it is due to the amount of stress that my oldest has caused me over the past 2 weeks. Are all eleven year old boys habitually forgetful and infuriatingly unconcerned about schoolwork, or is it just my kid?<br />
<br />
Two weeks ago, I received an email from the school reminding me that I should sign up for the parent portal on iNOW -- a handy little tool where the teachers enter grades and you can see how your kid is doing without waiting for report cards or progress reports. Now, since I was procrastinating on doing housework and freelance stuff (shocking, I know), I decided to go ahead and set up my account. We were 4 weeks into school and I thought, "Hey, I am sure that there is nothing to worry about but for future references, lets do this." So I did. Kid one and kid two, the 2 youngest are in kindergarten and first grade and had no grades recorded. That makes sense because they do not start receiving letter grades until 2nd or 3rd grade. Kid 3, the gifted one, had all A's. In fact, her lowest average was a 96. Again, no real surprises there. <br />
<br />
Then I logged onto the oldest's account. HOLY CRAP. Four C's and an F. How does he have 4 C's and an F??! It's the 4th week of school! <br />
<br />
As I perused the different classes and the entered grades, I noticed a trend. Lots of 0/100 and 0/50 grades. All of them had the same notation beside them -- "NTN". I immediately began emailing his teachers. I quickly learned that NTN means "Not Turned In" (which should be NTI, but no one asked me). I discovered through many, many emails that he has not been turning in his assignments and that he has not kept up things like his journal for English, his science folder, his math notebook, etc. All of his teachers said that he was a great kid, but had no follow through. I assured them that THAT was about to change. <br />
<br />
When he came home from school, we had, what you might call "A Come to Jesus Meeting." I told him that the only thing saving him from military school was the lack of funds.<br />
<br />
I showed him all of the zeros on the computer. His response was that those were "just participation grades." WHAT?? I pointed out that if you get a 100 for turning something in, and you get a 0 if you don't, then YOU TURN IT IN.<br />
<br />
It was like I was speaking a foreign language. <br />
<br />
He was placed on restriction. From everything. And he had to apologize to all of his teachers, ask what he could do about the missing assignments, and promise to make more of an effort. You would have thought I had said that he had to wear a diaper to school. I was the meanest mom ever. <br />
<br />
We began going over every single part of his homework in every subject, every night. He has a few things working against him, but he is smart. He is at a disadvantage particularly in math thanks to his stellar Texas education. If you remember, I went rounds with his 3rd grade teacher over him learning the times tables. She advised me that "rote memorization was not an effective method for learning" and basically ordered me not to have him memorize them. Well, I ignored her and tried to teach them at home anyway, but I had 3 other kids and he was making A's so I honestly dropped it after a while. Now, he is struggling in math because he doesn't know them. His teacher here agrees with me. Her exact quote was "Rote memorization of the multiplication facts through at least the 12's is essential and in fact crucial to moving forward." And he should have learned them 3 years ago.<br />
<br />
Another thing that they never taught him was how to write. I do not mean the alphabet -- I am referring to the ability to form thoughts, express ideas, and write in complete sentences. In Texas, all he had to know how to do was fill in the correct bubble next to A, B, or C, and write "T" or "F". They taught exactly what he needed to know how to do for the standardized tests and no more. (FYI, if that doesn't make you throw out all of those state rankings on education, then maybe you need to go back to school yourself.) Well now he is required to take short answer and essay tests. He is having a very hard time with these. I have pulled my hair out trying to help him to understand, and I am not sure if I am making any progress or not. For example: His science teacher allows them to correct any test that they score less than an 80 on to raise their grade up to an 80. The test covered 3 specific hurricanes (Galveston in 1900, Camille in 1969, and Andrew in 1992). The essay question was about early warning systems for storms and asked the students to write a response that used examples from each of the 3 storms to explain why early warning systems were important. They were to have a strong topic sentence, 3 examples, and a strong conclusion. He wrote a bunch of crap about NOAA, Hurricane planes, and radar systems without mentioning ANY of the storms or the IMPORTANCE of early warning systems. I told him that it was all wrong and that he would have to redo it and he lost it. He told me that what he wrote came straight out of the book and that it was correct. I tried to explain that while it may have been FACTUAL, it did not address the question. 2 + 2 will always be 4, but if the question was what is 6 X 8, then 4 will never be the right answer. We are working on it still, but I may need therapy before we are done.<br />
<br />
His dad and I have been working hard with him over the last 2 weeks and he has improved -- 3 B's and 2 C'c at this point. However, we are still struggling with getting him to turn all of his work in. We can make him do it, we can check it for errors, but we cannot turn it in for him. And I have told him that I will go to bat for him if he does the work and gets an answer right that the teacher marks wrong, or if he is somehow cheated on a grade, but that where he is now is entirely his fault and he is on lockdown until the grades come up. I will check his grades DAILY and I had better continue to see improvement or he will find himself in more serious trouble.Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-61105531251872465352013-09-13T06:30:00.000-05:002013-09-13T06:30:01.414-05:00Tonight, on Dateline....In My HeadI love Dateline. I almost always have at least one episode on my DVR. I think that its because it's full of drama, mystery, and intrigue and my life is pretty ordinary. It's exciting to watch these stories about what has happened in other people's lives. And I learn a lot about what to watch for to keep from getting scammed or kidnapped or killed, and I learn things to keep my family safe. However, it also makes my writer's imagination run wild. <br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I often hear Lester Holt and Keith Morrison in my head, narrating my untimely end when I am walking alone through a parking lot in the dark, or sitting at home alone at night while the husband is at work and the kids are at Grandma's. This may sound rather macabre, but I don't see it that way. I see it as more of a part of my creative process. People like me who write for a living, or for therapy, or as a creative outlet, or as an uncontrollable urge, typically have very vivid imaginations. This can lead to a sort of "Secret Life of Walter Mitty" existence if you are not careful.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguslI1P1QVbwMO50FvpN32EJLIGazzwvaZM63yU86Ddm3NqEO_dG-vFBeLua7-2Plb3gtIMfAmJJpWG7NxxNRD_whSQqMRwd8E8BZxjK1qPSv5QBf-S6ZN-WcgAFcMQYicopfoqGLrsNg/s1600/Walter+Mitty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguslI1P1QVbwMO50FvpN32EJLIGazzwvaZM63yU86Ddm3NqEO_dG-vFBeLua7-2Plb3gtIMfAmJJpWG7NxxNRD_whSQqMRwd8E8BZxjK1qPSv5QBf-S6ZN-WcgAFcMQYicopfoqGLrsNg/s320/Walter+Mitty.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you are not familiar with this James Thurber story, go read it (or watch the Danny Kaye movie.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Imagining the narrative that Keith Morrison might spin in his plangent, disembodied voice about something that I can imagine happening in my current situation is a creative exercise that gets me writing, or at least thinking about writing. <br />
<br />
I have fed this darker side of my imagination with decades of crime dramas like Law & Order, Criminal Minds, and many other shows that have come and gone over the years. And I read. A LOT. I read Patricia Cornwell, James Patterson, and Stephen King among others. So when I find myself in potentially dicey situations, I can quickly recall literally dozens of story lines that fit. It can really be a great tool in getting my creative juices flowing. Unless...<br />
<br />
Unless I am nowhere near my laptop and walking alone through a dark alley.<br />
<br />
Then I loathe and detest my imagination. <br />
<br />
I found myself in a situation like that last Saturday night. <br />
<br />
I wasn't alone, but it was about 11:00, in the downtown club district of my hometown. (VERY unfamiliar territory for me, BTW.) I am nearly 40. I am married, with 4 kids. I do not go to clubs. Even when I was younger and "went out", clubs were never my scene -- I preferred what you might affectionately call "dive bars." I never went for thumping music and flashing lights; I opted for pool tables and James Taylor or Tom Petty played low enough to have a conversation with the person at a cue stick's length away. But I was at a friend's bachelorette party, in a karaoke room of a local club, and another couple of friends and I were leaving earlier than the main party. I have no doubt that we were perfectly safe, but still, this is what I heard in my head:<br />
<br />
<i>"It had been a fun 'girl's night out,' a rarity in the life of a suburban wife with four young children. Admittedly, it was not her scene -- the pulsating lights and deep thumping music that could be felt in the soles of her shoes as she and her friends made her way to the side street where she'd parked her minivan. She was dressed comfortably in jeans and sandals; not like the flashy 20-something's that balanced precariously on heels longer than the skirts that they wore. She and her friends were laughing and talking as they approached the Chrysler with the PTA sticker proudly displayed on the back. They were not aware of the danger awaiting them there. They didn't know -- couldn't have known -- the horrors that were about unfold...."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihS6Ve4quyTMOI-tcbIeYXmDij04pMd0nre4E9_71780MKOlthz0hw5CRg_g69alPteBwngKvfOZU6e81Dnf61YklDbD07oCbz_Zu7Jw6CrV5FwBZvfsKjRSwyZmJ01nk2-4MCP-O6F3E/s1600/km-dateline.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihS6Ve4quyTMOI-tcbIeYXmDij04pMd0nre4E9_71780MKOlthz0hw5CRg_g69alPteBwngKvfOZU6e81Dnf61YklDbD07oCbz_Zu7Jw6CrV5FwBZvfsKjRSwyZmJ01nk2-4MCP-O6F3E/s1600/km-dateline.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is who was speaking in my head....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I chose not to share my internal narrative with my 2 friends who walked with me. I'm pretty sure they never would've invited me to go out in public again. I was relieved to make it home safely...and I promptly found a Dateline episode on my DVR to watch as I fell asleep. I know....I'm a little nuts.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh70UcWAD2oSjCbnJvJYpjydzlWfsI1caWUsggnlul3JmzoFuh0C0fPS6Rhf9uWvqofVUcMy59H_kiEEZRlvQbjnPG_K8LRJO6E5IgAEKPiommq48tWN7ZpaIKFKtz-8HCON62kug2Q25A/s1600/Aristotle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh70UcWAD2oSjCbnJvJYpjydzlWfsI1caWUsggnlul3JmzoFuh0C0fPS6Rhf9uWvqofVUcMy59H_kiEEZRlvQbjnPG_K8LRJO6E5IgAEKPiommq48tWN7ZpaIKFKtz-8HCON62kug2Q25A/s320/Aristotle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br /></div>
Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-56320926296495608912013-08-21T09:52:00.001-05:002013-08-26T08:39:12.581-05:00Awwww, NUTS!School started this week which means that I am back to forcing myself into bed before midnight so that I can get up before dawn to get the kids to the bus by 7. I am also back to making 20 lunches and 20 snacks a week for the minions. This is always a bit of a challenge since this one doesn't eat this kind of chips, and that one won't eat apple sauce, while this one ONLY eats applesauce....you get the idea. However, we now have a new wrinkle in the lunch prep -- food allergies.<br />
<br />
Now, before you get the wrong idea, my kids do not have any food allergies. I DO sympathize with those kids and their parents who deal with the dangers of food allergies, I could not imagine having a minor heart attack every time my kid put food in his or her mouth. I know that I am lucky to not have to worry about food that could kill my kids. I don't understand why these allergies are becoming more and more common. When I was a kid, I did not know anyone who could not eat peanuts, or eggs, or gluten, or milk, etc. But now, every single one of my kids has several kids in their class with food allergies and some of them are life threatening. Three out of four kids have at least one kid in their class with a peanut/tree nut allergy. This causes a problem for us because 2 of my kids ONLY eat sandwiches that are, you guessed it, peanut butter and jelly. <br />
<br />
Now, usually, the restrictions on the food of the other students doesn't include lunch, but is limited to food consumed in the classroom. This makes perfect sense because if your 6 year old was eating peanut butter crackers for snack at his or her desk and then got up to sharpen their pencil, hand in an assignment, or stuck their peanut butter covered fingers into the crayons and then the kid who is deathly allergic ALSO touched something with peanut butter on it, the result could be deadly. And, as is the rule, the kids stop at the bathroom to wash their hands both before and after leaving the lunchroom. While it may be a slight inconvenience to me to not be able to give my kids anything that has nuts in it for snack, it really isn't a big deal. I could still send PB&J for lunch which was where it mattered. However, my daughter, the younger one that may be on the spectrum, brought her sandwich home untouched 2 days in a row.<br />
<br />
This morning, when I discovered the uneaten sandwich in her lunchbox as I was busy making today's lunches, we had the following conversation:<br />
<br />
"Baby, why didn't you eat your sandwich?"<br />
"I didn't want it."<br />
"Why not? You need to eat your lunch or you'll get hungry before you get home."<br />
"I can't."<br />
"What? Why not?"<br />
"I just can't."<br />
"Sure you can. Did you run out of time to eat? You should start with your sandwich first."<br />
"No! I can't eat it because one of the kids in my class who is allergic to peanuts sits right next to me and I don't want to kill him!"<br />
<br />
So, today she got a jelly sandwich for lunch -- no peanut butter -- and a pep talk about how she was very thoughtful to not want to kill her classmate. <br />
<br />
I tried not to show her how this annoyed me. It really shouldn't. I am blessed in that my kids do not have any food allergies. I know that. But MY kids are still my priority and MY kid ONLY eats PB&J for lunch. Any other kid, I might could talk into a turkey, ham, or cheese sandwich. The older girl would even eat a salad if I fixed it every day. But not my younger girl. She has quirks and one of them is that she only eats PB&J. And now she can't. And because she is now also fixated on how she could kill her friend, she has chosen to go hungry rather than introduce the possibility. <br />
<br />
I don't want my 6 year old thinking about death when she opens her lunch. I emailed her teacher about it since they have assigned seats at the lunch table, thinking that perhaps she could sit next to one of her other friends during lunch -- one that she didn't have to worry about exposing to her deadly sandwich. I was told that "everyone has to be willing to make sacrifices for the safety of our class" and that it would be "unfair to change assigned seats to accommodate one kid over another." I dropped it, but I wanted to point out that yes, it IS unfair. It is completely unfair to take a kid who ONLY eats PB&J and sit them next to someone who could die from being exposed to peanut butter. Surely there are other kids in the class who eat in the lunchroom or who bring something other than PB&J for lunch -- sit them next to the kid who is allergic. How is that unfair? What about what is fair for MY kid? <br />
<br />
I will no doubt be bombarded with comments and emails about how this is inconsiderate, that it is a life and death situation for these kids and their parents, and how I and my kid should get over it. But it isn't that easy. If you have kids on the spectrum, you know its not that easy. So for now, I will feed my daughter a jelly sandwich just so she will eat something for lunch and brace myself for the criticism I will receive. <br />
<br />
<b>UPDATE:</b><br />
The email that I received back was NOT from her teacher -- it was from someone in the main office. I got the address wrong (it went to a different teacher with the same last name, who forwarded it to the office, where whoever go it decided to just handle it instead of passing it along). I called the school to talk to the office, thinking that I would just go over the teacher's head and that is how I found out. I got the CORRECT email address before hanging up and now I am waiting for the teacher's response. <br />
<br />
<b>2ND UPDATE:</b><br />
SHE CAN HAVE PEANUT BUTTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<br />
The teacher called, she was super awesome and determined that my daughter was being hyper vigilant because she was concerned about her friend. She sits at the same table in the classroom, but not close enough at lunch for it to be a concern. Whew. (And yay for having a nice, normal, understanding teacher!!)Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-70435798765911463132013-08-16T14:21:00.002-05:002013-08-16T14:21:29.384-05:00School Days, School DaysI have been distracted all Summer. I've had friends in need, family vacations, and 4 kids who fluctuate between "I'm bored" when I limit their TV, phone, or video game time and "I'm too tired" when I tell them to clean something. I have attempted to write several blogs during all that, but I thought that they sucked so I either never finished them or just never published them. I would read what other bloggers wrote and think "This is good. This is really good. This is much better than the crap I am writing." And then I would delete what I had written. Or I would write about something only to find that 2 or 3 other bloggers had already written on it and done a better job.<br />
<br />
Not today. Today I will tell MY story about back to school crap no matter who else tells it or tells it better because I have spent the past 3 days dealing with back to school for my 4 kids and I have just about had it. I am broke and I am developing a nervous tick as a result.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDunqyVa0OuVKQHgsJorG4-whyphenhyphenbEcShS8FyCTWnZQqNsL_yCFnsP3XivkiDDj-diTnz_4MMwKkJJeky-hSfG6myvyu7ePf-4w-rvZpPK17Kqb4ADNrc53-iUiR6-MAwWZ78H50_EUyqA4/s1600/aaablogphoto3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDunqyVa0OuVKQHgsJorG4-whyphenhyphenbEcShS8FyCTWnZQqNsL_yCFnsP3XivkiDDj-diTnz_4MMwKkJJeky-hSfG6myvyu7ePf-4w-rvZpPK17Kqb4ADNrc53-iUiR6-MAwWZ78H50_EUyqA4/s1600/aaablogphoto3.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was me. Standing in the School Supply section of Walmart at 10 PM last night.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I was actually pretty excited about back to school (aside from the getting up before dawn every day) because for the first time since 2001, I was going to be kid free from 7-3 every day. The possibilities were endless. Maybe I would go get a real job. Or clean. Or sleep. Or work on writing. Or do WHATEVER I wanted because I don't have to be home until the bus is at 3:00. It's my youngest's first year of school, so there is all of the excitement of that too. He couldn't wait to go to "big" school. It is also the ONLY year that I will have all 4 in the same school since the oldest will go to middle school next year. Lots of excitement, hope, and new things to look forward to -- Yay!<br />
<br />
And then I got the school supply list and all of that hope turned to dread and I began to get a headache.<br />
<br />
Now last year, with 3 kids in school, I spent over $200 on school supplies (not including backpacks and lunch boxes and clothes) by buying everything on the district supply list. Because they apparently exaggerate, we still have some of it. In fact, on my son's list last year was "compass and protractor" and so I bought one and sent it. It got sent home along with a note informing me that he was not allowed to have a compass at school because it could be used as a weapon. (THEN WHY WAS IT ON THE STINKING LIST??!!) And they asked for 20 pronged folders, but they only used 6, 8 packs of notebook filer paper, but they only used 3, and 15 glue sticks, but they only used 4. So this year, I decided that I wouldn't buy supplies until I spoke to the teachers at open house. Unfortunately, their teachers this year said basically to get it all. Sigh. So last night, I went to Walmart to get supplies. It was ridiculous. And I ended up at 3 other stores before finally stumbling home at 11:30 pm, without everything I needed.<br />
<br />
The sheer volume of supplies needed for each kid is disturbing. 8 packs of 350 sheets of notebook paper? and 96 pencils? 15 glue sticks? 3 identical boxes of crayons? WHAT FOR???! Or is it because us responsible parents have to buy enough supplies for the entire class? <br />
<br />
Between my 4 kids, I needed to get 262 SHARPENED No. 2 pencils. (and the 6th grader also needs 48 blue or black pens). There are only 176 school days. So apparently they need a new pencil every 2 days. <br />
<br />
Then on the kindergartner's list, he needs 3 boxes of 24 count Crayola crayons, AND 2 boxes of 8 count Crayola crayons. Why? The colors in the 8 count box are all in the 24 count box. Not to mention that the 8 count boxes are nearly impossible to find (as in I have been to 4 stores so far and no one has them). <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGtQqs6vxmsU92_RM8ZZIa7oT0abIKxWcZPvORFrzoE1z9K6FAMQYmtDg5SEnyVOeYgfdH41weHk3e-85gDwwnEudCX3jQdVL8BIhS78PzNhyiw6Xa40D9nIqtvhk0UR8H8vgm1aje670/s1600/aaablogphoto4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGtQqs6vxmsU92_RM8ZZIa7oT0abIKxWcZPvORFrzoE1z9K6FAMQYmtDg5SEnyVOeYgfdH41weHk3e-85gDwwnEudCX3jQdVL8BIhS78PzNhyiw6Xa40D9nIqtvhk0UR8H8vgm1aje670/s1600/aaablogphoto4.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am beginning to think that the schools are in cahoots with the school supply companies. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The 1st grader has to have a certain kind of folder -- plastic with prongs and pockets. The list states it like this: "10 Plastic pocket folders with brads (solid colors only): 2 red, 2 yellow, 2 blue, 2 green, 2 orange." The only problem is that no one has yellow ones. In fact, only one store carries these at all and they are $2.99 each. And the 6th grader also needs 4. So 14 folders at basically $3 each, means just the folders for these 2 kids, I had to spend over $45 (including tax). It also doesn't make sense that the 1st grader needs 10 of them. They don't have 10 subjects in 1st grade. <br />
<br />
Then there are the glue sticks. Holy cow at the glue sticks -- between my 4 kids, they need 51 glue sticks (luckily, I still had glue sticks left over from the school supply shopping spree last year, so I only had to buy 36 glue sticks). I do not know what they plan to do with all of this glue, but I better have some arts and crafts worthy of the Guggenheim. <br />
<br />
And I am expecting some truly inspirational writing as well. 18 composition notebooks, 12 spiral notebooks, and 6 binders along with 6,300 sheets of notebook paper between the 4 of them -- and the 5 year old can barely write his name. Now don't get me wrong -- I am a writer, so I am all for lots of writing. I just seriously doubt that there will be 6,300 pages of it. <br />
<br />
School supplies are necessary. I get that. But why so much? Why so specific? Why can't it be easy? Why not say "pencils, notebooks, crayons, glue, scissors, and a box to put it all in?" But ooooooh nooooo, it has to be this brand, this color, this size, from this store, etc. It is ridiculous. I am keeping all of our extra supplies at home this year. If they run low on paper or pencils, they can get more here. There is no way that I am sending 18 packs of filler paper and 262 pencils to become part of the community property of the classroom so that other kids can use them all up and then in April I have to buy more for my kid. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsp_gRUAQW4CU8MJRitjzwC48vaZRf4wrWyXPPxBMOZuv8yj6xFyT7f0X4hxA8uvRMP2xn_3dqjJ_6oSGUEav1w1zzS5sV9ACr1mFSh5cp8IxnDdwEXWLKRaLtGx2Z59Y71Szt68Gj064/s1600/aaablogphoto2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsp_gRUAQW4CU8MJRitjzwC48vaZRf4wrWyXPPxBMOZuv8yj6xFyT7f0X4hxA8uvRMP2xn_3dqjJ_6oSGUEav1w1zzS5sV9ACr1mFSh5cp8IxnDdwEXWLKRaLtGx2Z59Y71Szt68Gj064/s1600/aaablogphoto2.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what I am afraid of...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
When we went to orientation I also had to pay a $20 supply fee for each kid in addition to the supplies that I purchased yesterday. All told, I have spent approximately $200 on school supplies, and $80 on school fees. And each kid needs a "spirit shirt" that they wear on field trips and every Friday to earn points for their class -- $48 for those. Oh, and as a PTA volunteer, I have to have a shirt -- $12 more. So I have spent about $340 for back to school stuff and I haven't taken anyone clothes or shoe shopping, haven't bought new backpacks or lunch boxes, and haven't bought the stuff I need to make 4 lunches a day yet either. In case you were wondering, every week I need a minimum of 2 loaves of bread, 20 bags of chips, 40 cookies, and 20 juice boxes JUST for lunches during the school year, and they are all supposed to have a "snack" every day that can be eaten at their desk with a bottle of water. I would let them eat in the lunchroom, but that would cost about $55 per week, and I am pretty sure making lunches at home is cheaper.<br />
<br />
As I was lamenting these facts, a friend of mine told me that they always just bought the PTA's supply boxes to save themselves all of this hassle. And I admit, I thought about it. But the supply boxes ranged in price from $60 to $85 depending on the grade and the contents and everything was all exactly alike inside (so all of my kid's stuff would be indistinguishable from the next kid's stuff). I came out cheaper buying the stuff myself, and I was able to buy something that reflected my kids' unique personalities for the few items that weren't so strictly regulated. <br />
<br />
In any event, I am done supply shopping until next Fall. It was hard. It was frustrating. But I did it -- I got everything that my kids (and apparently their classmates) will need for the rest of the school year. <br />
<br />
Except for those elusive 8-count Crayola crayons....Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-31641597984092993042013-08-12T23:55:00.004-05:002013-08-12T23:55:41.344-05:00Just to Catch You Up<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
My life has been fluctuating between extremely boring, incredibly dramatic, and very comedic. Basically, its a Woody Allen movie.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
For the entire month of July, I let a friend in need stay with me. While at the time that she and her 2 teenagers moved in with us on July 6th, it appeared that her marriage was headed in only one direction -- divorce. After a month of late night therapy on my front porch and some serious efforts from her estranged husband, she and her kids are back home and they are starting counseling. I sincerely hope that they can work it out. I hope that they can both make the necessary changes in themselves to make their marriage work because I never want to see a marriage end. It was more drama than this mama has seen in a long time, and made me thankful that my husband and I have the relationship that we do. (I mean, he loves me so much that he let my friend and her kids move in with us for a month! He's a keeper for sure!)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
On the first of August, I went on a vacation with my parents. It was really nice. We stayed in a cabin in the woods. There was only one problem with the cabin -- the water. It was slimy. And it smelled. So we complained to the management office. We weren't brave enough to drink it, or cook with it. but bathing was another story because we couldn't exactly fill a tub up with Dasani. We were discussing all of the possibilities when my dad busts out with THIS lovely theory as I stand there towel drying my hair: "I think its probably a dead animal in their well." I thought I was going to throw up. Luckily, that wasn't it. The maintenance guy came and told us that all of the rain that they had had in recent weeks had flooded the tanks and that the filtering and chemicals that they added to the water had messed up somehow. Basically, the balance was off. But we still didn't drink it. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
The only other problem with the cabin was the inevitable critters in the walls and ceiling -- in my room. Right over my bed in fact. And that didn't really bother me until the second night when my room took on the distinct odor of urine. Yep, rodent urine. We never saw them, but we smelled them and heard them. But it was a cabin in the middle of NOWHERE so I really wasn't surprised, and I burned some candles and sprayed some air freshener and dealt with it. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
And my parents and I got along too -- for the most part. In fact, most of the problems were with the intelligence (or lack there of) of the various staff that we encountered. For example, we were in south Georgia, in August, and we attended this circus that the University of Florida students put on every Summer. In a tent. In the middle of the afternoon. It was about 90 degrees outside, but in the tent, it was about 4,782 degrees Fahrenheit. There were these HUGE box fans behind the stands, but they weren't on. About halfway through the circus (which wasn't nearly as good as advertised, by the way), I got up and asked why the fans weren't on. I was met with "Are you sure that they aren't on?" Ummm, yeah. I'm pretty sure that I would notice if they were. Then later, I tried to purchase time for my 2 oldest on this huge bouncy thing in the middle of the lake. It was $10 each, for one hour, and started on the hour. After I had paid, she said that they couldn't go out there now -- it was 4:10. They'd have to wait until 5:00. I told her that I didn't mind, but she said that it would "confuse the guys monitoring it. So I told her that I needed a refund because we wouldn't be there until 6:00. I had given her a $10 and a $20 (with tax it was like $21.60). So when I wanted to get a refund, I thought, hand back the change that she had given me along with the arm bands and she would give me back my $10 and my $20. Simple. No. Not simple. This is kinda how it went down:</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Me: Yeah, we can't do that, because I am not sure that we will be here until 6:00. Here, just take this and give me my $30 back.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Her: <blank stare=""></blank></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Me: Do you see what I'm saying?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Her: I'll have to put it in the system.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
She then stares in confusion at the computer screen for a few minutes, hands me back my change again, and then proceeds to count out $21.60. Then asks for the $1 in change and hands me a $1 bill back. I just stared at her as I was now holding a $20, a $5, and 5 $1's.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Me: I don't understand. Why couldn't you just give me back the $10 and $20 I gave you?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Her: Because I had to see it for it to make sense. You know?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
At which point, my 9 year old who had witnessed the whole thing said "That doesn't make any sense."</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Indeed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
But other than the water, the rodents, and the idiots, it was a good trip. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
My kids start school next week. All of them. For the first time since 2001, I will be kid free 5 days a week, from 7-3. I'm kind of giddy. I expect that there will be a post about it later.</div>
Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-89140758551270946582013-06-27T13:34:00.001-05:002013-06-27T13:34:23.443-05:00I am 100% Sure That 100% is HardI am tired of living in chaos and clutter. I want very badly to eliminate the clutter and organize things. I have been thinking about a lot of things in my life that I want to change, and my eating habits are one of them. <br />
<br />
See, the thing is that I'm fat. <br />
<br />
I am not really ashamed of it, it's just a fact. I had 4 kids in 6 1/2 years and I wasn't a size 6 when I started so I'm a little hefty. I have never had a bikini body and without subjecting myself to some serious surgery I never will. I'm 5'8" and wear a size 11 shoe. Itty-bitty just isn't in my future. At my thinnest, I was a size 12 and I made my peace with the fact that I am just a big person a long time ago. I pay little attention to the scale and try to focus on how my clothes fit and how my food choices make me feel.<br />
<br />
However, I am trying to eat healthier, whole foods that are not processed, and I am finding it difficult. The industry is NOT on the side of the health conscious consumer. Non-GMO, organic fruits and vegetables are at times more than twice the price of the regular ones. Kraft Mac-n-Cheese is $0.88 a box but Annie's Organic Mac-n-Cheese (which my kids won't eat because it tastes funny) is $2.04. Organic, free range chicken is $4-5 a pound, while processed chicken nuggets are $5 for a bag of 50 and chicken with hormones from a poultry farm is $2.50 a pound. Eating organic would easily double my food budget. I will never understand why something that has less chemicals (which have to be man-made) and less processing done to it, costs LESS than the real food that has had nothing done to it. I want to eat healthy, but I can't afford to buy ALL organic, or ALL non-processed foods. <br />
<br />
And therein lies the rub -- eating "clean" doesn't really count if you don't do it 100%. <br />
<br />
Just like everything else. You can't "sorta" clean your house or it's not clean. You can't "kinda" organize your stuff or it's not organized. And you can't halfway change a habit or you still have it.<br />
<br />
My house right now is about as organized as the $5 DVD bin at Wal-mart. I don't think that I have told ya'll here, but when we got a new TV my husband promised to build me a wall of bookcases around it. We cleared out the 4 bookcases that were on that wall, painted it red, and ripped up the carpet in that area so that he could build a true "built-in" bookcase. Well, life happened (work, surgery, etc.) and for the past 2 months, I have been staring at the empty base that the bookshelves will eventually be built on. All of the stuff that was on that wall is now piled up all over the house (primarily in the living room at the front of the house, right by the front door for everyone to see as they come into the house). And i have brought in a lot of stuff that I got from my great aunt's estate. I need desperately to purge stuff and organize, but my back is not allowing me to do much of anything and the unfinished bookcases mean that I have nowhere to put stuff.<br />
<br />
I am looking to clean up my life and if I cannot do it 100% it doesn't matter. So I am discouraged. I have many goals and they all seem unattainable for one reason or another -- money, time, physical ailments, kids working against me, and well, if I'm honest, my own dedication.<br />
<br />
100% may not be impossible, but dang, it is definitely HARD.Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-22380108724772125742013-06-24T19:40:00.000-05:002013-06-24T19:40:08.162-05:00The Hits Keep ComingRemember when I said that the last few weeks had been rough? Well, I spoke too soon. <br />
<br />
Twelve days after my husband's surgery, he had already gone back to work and seemed to be doing fine when his nose exploded. I'm only exaggerating a little bit. He was asleep and I was downstairs working on freelance stuff that I should have finished already. It was a weekend, so my kids were at the mother-in-law's house and I had delusions of getting a lot of work done. All of a sudden I heard a bunch of banging. It took me a minute to react because I thought he was asleep. I ran upstairs to find my husband standing over the bathroom sink with blood pouring out of his face and splashing up on the walls, the mirror, and all over the counter. He says "I can't move without bleeding all over the floor." So I toss him a dark colored hand towel and go get his phone to call the doctor.<br />
<br />
When I got the doctor on the phone, I tried very hard to tell him how concerned I was at the amount of blood my husband was loosing (he was now on his second hand towel, having completely soaked through the first one). The doctor, however, didn't seemed concerned at all....which was a little annoying. He said "Okay, well what you want to do is to spray some Afrin up his nose. It would be okay to use a third of the bottle because it's going to cause those blood vessels to constrict and stop the bleeding." To which I responded "Yeah, apparently I have failed to adequately convey the seriousness of the situation here. Nothing is going 'up' my husband's nose because THERE IS A RIVER OF BLOOD POURING FROM MY HUSBAND'S FACE!" He just said that if we couldn't get it to stop to go to the ER. So we hung up and got into the car heading for the ER, leaving my house looking like a scene from a horror movie. On the way to the hospital I told my husband not to die suspiciously at the hospital because if there as an investigation, there was enough DNA all over the house and in my car to convict me ten times over.<br />
<br />
The fun continued at the ER where I was holding the bucket under his nose for him to hemorrhage into and I got scolded by the ER doctor for not wearing gloves. I tried to explain that this was my husband and that we had four kids together and that I had been peed on, pooped on, puked on, bled on, snotted on, etc. more times than I could count without gloves, but she insisted in case I tried to sue or OSHA walked in randomly to the exam room. They ended up shoving these things up his nose called "Rhino Rockets" to stop the bleeding. They are basically balloon filled tampons that they inflate to apply pressure and stop the bleeding. And they admitted him. We stayed in the hospital until late Sunday and didn't go to the doctor's office until Tuesday when they removed the Rhino Rockets. So far, there hasn't been anymore bleeding, but his blood pressure has been jumping around from normal to stage 2 hypertension, so that has been fun.<br />
<br />
I had put most of the freelance work that I had left to do (about 6 articles) until that weekend since my boss was on vacation until Monday and I had planned on being at home alone all weekend and not in the hospital with the husband. Luckily, I have an understanding boss. And I am usually ahead of her as far as work submitted versus work she has had time to read over and approve. But still, I was behind and I hate being behind. Every time I started an article there seemed to be a minor crisis with the kids or another doctor's appointment, or a family obligation, or something and then when I would go back and try to pick up where I had left off and would read what I had written, I ended up having to start over. The articles I was working on were sourced from the opposite point of view -- so I had a lot more research to do because it was like writing an argument for something based on all of the evidence against it. Although it was incredibly interesting, I kept having to start over and that was not awesome. Finally I finished all but the last article. I was halfway through it when my research on the last subject indicated that it wasn't applicable in the state where my bosses business is located. So now I am waiting to hear back from her about whether or not she wants me to finish it.<br />
<br />
Throughout all of this, my back is still jacked up and I have probably undone any progress that I was making towards getting it back to where it should be by sleeping on hospital recliners that misrepresent themselves as beds, doing housework (yes, I do occasionally do that), picking up kids, etc. I haven't been able to get back to the chiropractor since the Thursday before last. <br />
<br />
So now you are all caught up on the misadventures of the Caballero Clan. There have been some current events that I have written some editorial pieces on, but they're not finished and even when I do finish them, they probably won't be "current" events anymore. Not to mention the fact that every time I share a strong opinion on something controversial on here I lose a bunch of followers. I do have some humorous stories that are woven throughout all of this, and I am looking forward to being able to write about THOSE for change instead of recounting everything that has gone wrong lately. If it hadn't been for my parents and my mother-in-law through all of this I would have lost it over the past 2 weeks.<br />
<br />
But hey, it's all good. I roll with the punches as the hits keep coming.<br />
<br />Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-40848853747957024742013-06-11T10:17:00.000-05:002013-06-11T10:17:07.197-05:00This is a Random Post....I've had a weird couple of weeks. Between the end of school, the husband's surgery, and everything that has been going on, I have felt a little more scattered than normal. <br />
<br />
I have a few articles that I need to write for my freelance job, and it has been difficult to even accomplish one article a day (I was churning out 4-5 a day without difficulty earlier this year). I reread what I write and I wonder what the heck I was trying to say.<br />
<br />
The husband is recovering from his surgery, but his blood pressure, which was never a problem before has been really high ever since the procedure last week. He is supposed to go back to work tonight, but this morning he is back at the doctor to try to get some answers. I am certain that my concern over him has contributed to my recent scatter brained days.<br />
<br />
I've been distracted and disjointed. My oldest daughter had asked about going to a church camp a few weeks ago and I told her that she could, but I just needed to sign her up. This past weekend, we were talking about doing something later this week, and she said "Well we need to do it before Thursday or I won't be here." I was like "What? Where will you be?" She looked at me with her 9 year old attitude and said "Very funny mom. I'll be at camp!" Gulp. I had totally forgotten about camp. So Saturday I starting calling around very frantically to fellow church members to try and see if it was possible to still get her in. Luckily, there was ONE bed left in the 9 year old cabin. Whew. If I had to tell her that I had dropped the ball on camp after she was so very excited, I would have felt like a total looser. More so than usual. She is going to love it and I know that she'll have an awesome time since they're going to have some sort of talent show. She regularly does little skits and then ends them by saying "Aaaaaand scene."<br />
<br />
It's Summer and I should be sleeping late...but I was up at 6:15 this morning and I will be all this week. My oldest signed up for a day camp with the local police department. (And just as a side note, when the cops called to remind us about his camp starting today, I had a mini heart attack because I never get calls from the cops.) I think that this will be good for him, but I just wish that it started around noon. My oldest is the rule guy. He's a legalistic. So spending a week with the cops will be heaven for him. <br />
<br />
The 6 year old has been quirkier than normal lately, and it has been a great stress reliever. She has this little bitty toy that she has been carrying around for over a week (it is smaller than a Monopoly piece). It is a whale, that she has named "Quail." Yep, "Quail the Whale." If it were anyone else I would tell you that this made absolutely no sense, but with her it is perfectly normal. She has also developed a very unique style of dress this Summer -- black and white striped shirt with lime green bike shorts that have white polka dots for example. Again, if it was anyone else, it would seem weird. She and her little brother are hilarious together -- lots of pretend play and witty banter between them that makes me smile.<br />
<br />
And then there's the youngest. I am beginning to worry about how he is going to do when he starts kindergarten next Fall. He is super smart, but he is mischievous. He loves Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Looney Toons, and already has a firm grasp of sarcasm. And while this is very entertaining at home, I am concerned that his teacher might not appreciate it when he utilizes his sarcasm and humor with her. I just think that when he walks up to her and says in a husky whisper "I'm Batman. My parents are dead." or "Obviously, this means war." she may not get the joke.... And based on his love for Monty Python's Holy Grail, I am just waiting for the call where I have to explain why he would tell his teacher: "I didn't vote for you. You can't expect to be a teacher<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">just because some watery tart threw a sword at you." (All of which is in the realm of possibility since he has said that crap (and more) to me.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">See? Distracted and disjointed. I have no idea what the point of this post is. It's just....random. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-25901079072184601652013-06-03T06:00:00.000-05:002013-06-03T06:00:07.553-05:00I'm Still Alive.I know. I suck. I haven't blogged in a month. <br />
<br />
The truth is, I have something to write about, something that has been gnawing at me, something I have been obsessing over, etc. -- but I can't write about it without sort of "airing dirty laundry" that isn't all mine to air. It has to do with my great aunt's estate, and it has been occupying a huge chunk of my time since last Fall. I'll just say that people are greedy. And annoying. And have a twisted view of what they "deserve." I mean, if someone leaves you something -- ANYTHING -- in their will after they passed away, be grateful. You didn't work for it, they did. It is free. Gratis. And not everyone has acted like an idiot, most of us have been thankful for what we have received.... But I can't talk about it in detail. Sooooooo.... yeah. Moving on. Let's recap the last month....<br />
<br />
There's been other stuff going on too. Like school's out and my kids are all home and driving me crazy. My husband had the idea that we tell them that if they keep their rooms clean that they could stay up until 9:30. I hated to point out to him that it is Summer and I have never "made" them go to bed in the Summer. Ever. I mean, I appreciate that his work schedule is more conducive to parenting, but he's a little late to the bedtime game -- I've been flying solo in this whole dinner/bath/bedtime routine for more than 11 years. And it is so very hard to get them all to bed 9 months out of the year, that during these three months that there is no school, we all sort of embrace our inner night owl. It is not uncommon for my kids to be up at 11 or 12:00 at night during the Summer, because I'm up that late. And because I want them to sleep late the next morning. <br />
<br />
My husband is having surgery today. He sees an ENT regularly because he needs tubes in his ears. He walked into the Dr. here and the Dr. says "So, we're here to talk about your nose?" And my husband said "Um....no. I'm here about tubes in my ears. What's wrong with my nose?" Apparently, he has a horrible deviated septum. So, this afternoon he's going to have that fixed. I'm hoping that it helps with his snoring. It'd be nice to sleep through the night when he's home. (So my kids are at my mom's for the night, so I am certain that they'll be in bed by 9:30).<br />
<br />
I have also somehow injured my back. I have a bulging disk. It hurts, but the good thing is that I finally have an excuse for sitting around and doing nothing. I am seeing a chiropractor 2-3 times a week, and I'd go everyday if I could because I always feel so much better after I leave. He puts this electrode thing on my back and it feels like just little thumps, but it interrupts the pain receptors. Unfortunately, it only lasts about an hour and then it starts hurting again. He also uses ice which I HATE, but I can't deny that it makes it feel better. Before I went to see him, I was using heat which was the exact wrong thing to do. I'm trying to do what he says, but I am sort of enjoying saying "Can you....because I can't do that with my back."<br />
<br />
So now you are all caught up. I do have some funny stories to share, and I will try to do that as I have time, but it is so very difficult to write with the minions running around saying "Mom, can you....?", "Mom, can I....", "Mom, make him stop....", and "Mom, tell her to..." and my freelance stuff has to take priority. Yep, I'm still doing freelance work, although the flow has slowed down. It's actually a good thing that it has since the kids are home and it makes focussing on anything for more than 2 or 3 minutes difficult. As I was working on that this weekend, I was having difficulty finishing an article because I was trying to read it out loud (something I do to make sure that it flows well and sounds natural) and I kept getting interrupted with questions like "Mom, who are you talking to?" and "Mom, I have no idea what you're talking about..." <br />
<br />
Sigh.<br />
<br />
<br />Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3678933503618590263.post-85762224321541900372013-04-08T12:34:00.000-05:002013-04-08T12:34:48.303-05:00The Best of FriendsI do not have a funny tale today, or a freelance horror story like the last post, or a social commentary like the one before that. What I do have today is laundry. Time sensitive laundry since the 4 year old wet the bed last night. But before I get started in earnest on that, I wanted to come and tell y'all a little story about these 2 awesome "older" ladies that I met last week. <br />
<br />
Last week, I had to go to the doctor...the <em>LADY </em>doctor. I hate going to the gynecologist. It is my least favorite appointment of the year. Any appointment that involves a paper sheet and stirrups just sucks. I was a new patient so I got there really early to do all of the necessary paperwork. I had to ask the receptionist where to list the birth of my last child since there was only room for 3 on the form. When I sat back down to finish, I noticed these 2 ladies staring at me. <br />
<br />
I was not in the mood to be friendly. I was at the gynecologist. But I smiled back at them, I can be polite without being friendly, I thought. This was the cue that they had been waiting for apparently: as is the norm in my life, I am a "Chatty Cathy" magnet. <br />
<br />
"When are you due?" one of them said with a smile.<br />
<br />
Yep, I am not pregnant. Nor have I been pregnant in nearly 5 years. So I looked up at them both smiling expectantly and said deadpan "July, 2008." (Which was when my youngest was born.)<br />
<br />
This took a second to sink in, and then they apologized profusely and laughed hysterically. Then they asked about my kids.<br />
<br />
"You have FOUR kids?" the graying brunette asked in amazement.<br />
<br />"Um, yes." I replied a little tersely.<br />
<br />
"My, my -- I could not imagine. We both had 2. Not together, of course. Hahahaha." the obviously expertly dyed blonde said.<br />
<br />
I offered a wilted smile, hoping that we weren't about to become best friends or something.<br />
<br />
"We're best friends." (were they reading my mind??!) "We've been best friends since grade school. We married best friends, we live on the same street, our oldest kids married each other." the blonde offered up.<br />
<br />
"I guess we're sort of attached at the hip." reaffirmed the brunette and they both giggled like school girls.<br />
<br />
My paperwork now finished, I was intrigued by this pair. What were they doing here together at the gynecologist together?? So, with nothing to lose, I asked "So, do you both have appointments today?"<br />
<br />
"Yep, but we do go to separate exam rooms." And there was that school girl giggle fit again.<br />
<br />
"So besides being incredibly fertile, what do you do?" The brunette asked.<br />
<br />
"Yes, do you work outside of the home? I imagine that with 4 kids you have your hands full." inquired the blonde.<br />
<br />
"I do have my hands full, but I am a writer. I work from home, usually in my pajamas, surrounded by kid clutter and laundry."<br />
<br />
This piqued their interest.<br />
<br />
"Steamy romance novels?" smirked the brunette, "I don't suppose the stork brought those 4 kids." followed by another chorus of giggles.<br />
<br />
"Um, no." I laughed nervously. These two were a lot more feisty than they appeared in their coordinated fashions from Cato. "I doubt that my romance novels would be very good. All of my characters would end up pregnant by the third chapter. Mostly I write content for web pages."<br />
<br />
"Oh. That sounds sort of boring." the brunette said disapointedly.<br />
<br />
"Well, I also have a personal blog where I share funny parenting stories and satirical social commentaries." I said, hoping to redeem a little of the coolness factor. "And I've written some children's books; but they've been rejected by every publisher I've sent them to."<br />
<br />
"Maybe you should try romance novels" the blonde responded. "Does your blog have a lot of followers?"<br />
<br />
"A few," I said. "I quit watching the numbers because it makes me crazy. I have a little over 3,500 followers on Facebook though."<br />
<br />
"So let me get this straight -- you just write down what happens during your life as a mom, and strangers read it? What for?" the brunette asked. The concept of a blog seems to have confused her a little.<br />
<br />
"Yeah, well, other parents read it. It either reminds them of the days when their kids were young, lets them know what they have to look forward to, or it makes them feel normal by knowing that they aren't the only ones dealing with parenthood insanity."<br />
<br />
"Parenting is many things, but there is no 'normal' when you're dealing with kids," the blonde offered.<br />
<br />
I gave them the address for the blog, and we talked about some of the stories I had written. They were obviously est friends -- they finished each other's sentences, speaking in tandem, a perfect rhythm of years together. But still I wondered -- the gynecologist? Together? I have some really great friends that I love to spend time with, but I prefer to face the stirrups alone. I had to ask because I am nosey: "So, why come to the gynecologist together? It seems an odd choice for a girl's day out..."<br />
<br />
They smiled at each other and tilted their heads like there was some secret between them. Something that they were going to tell me, but I would never fully understand.<br />
<br />
"Five years ago, I was diagnosed with cancer." the blonde said.<br />
<br />
"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, now sort of regretting that I had asked.<br />
<br />
"She was here alone when they found it, alone when they told her 2 weeks later and explained the treatment options, and alone when she had to tell her husband." the brunette said patting her friend's leg.<br />
<br />
"Well, I am an adult..." the blonde began.<br />
<br />
"But you're my best friend. You shouldn't have been alone. And since I wasn't here, you didn't tell me until after they confirmed it. You carried that for nearly a week by yourself, and then you had to tell [your husband, your kids] and then me." I felt like I had intruded into something private between these two...<br />
<br />
"I beat it, though," the blonde said to me with a smile and clasping her friend's hand still on her leg.<br />
<br />
"Yes you did." the brunette said. <br />
<br />
"She came to every appointment after that. She stayed in the hospital with me when I had surgery, sat with me through chemo, even sat on my bathroom floor and held my head over the toilet while I got sick."<br />
<br />
"Just like college," the brunette said, and the school girl giggles were back, but both of their eyes were glassy.<br />
<br />
"Anyway, when you are old ladies like us, there is always a chance that they might find something. We don't take any chances. Ever since my cancer, we schedule our appointments together -- gynecologist, mammograms, even eye doctor and dermatologist. That way, we never have to face bad news alone. After each appointment, we go out to lunch or to dinner and have a drink to celebrate another good report, until the day that we need the drink to face what lies ahead." The blonde seemed almost wistful. "Besides, its not like [our husbands] want to come with us."<br />
<br />
"No, they don't have time. All that golf won't play itself."<br />
<br />
And they laughed again.<br />
<br />
I found that my eyes were a little full too, threatening to overflow when I smiled at their jokes.<br />
<br />
I was called back shortly after that. They said that they would check out my blog and I told them that I may write about them. They were gone when I got out. I haven't been able to stop thinking about them. What a testament to friendship. <br />
<br />
I hope that I am that kind of friend. <br />
<br />
I want to be that kind of friend. <br />
<br />
And I hope that I have friends like that who will be there for me. <br />
<br />
I think that I am blessed with more than one. Counting Caballeroshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12468483600948636452noreply@blogger.com6