One Less Thing...

     I do not know how it happened.  I do not even remember a turning point.  I just know that it happened and I have been taken over. 
     When I was in college, I lived in a 900 square foot, two bedroom, two bathroom apartment.  I had a tiny dining room table and just the basics.  A bed for myself, a bed in the guest room, a sofa...well you get the idea.  I have pictures from that time and I can even remember what my apartment was like, but it seems so foreign now. 
    Now, I am overwhelmed.  I am sorting through things.  I am trying to get rid of as much as possible in preparation for a move in the future.  It seems to be never ending.  There is really so much stuff.  I have tools for every possible need.  I have craft gadgets galore.  I have sorted, resorted and put items aside that must go.  Every day, someone walks by a box, pulls something out and insists that we cannot live without that particular item.  I am exasperated.  How did we become so needy?  If all of these gadgets, tools and extras are so important, how did I survive without them twenty years ago? 
    The answer is simply.  CHILDREN. The days when you could simply bring a child home with just a few items of clothing, bottles and diapers are gone.  Now you must have an approved car seat, a 17 position high chair, a super silent battery operated swing, a bouncy seat, a bassinet, a crib, wipe warmer, diaper disposal unit, changing table... I could go on forever. We doubled our household goods when we had a 7 1/2lb child.
    And so it began... after the cribs, wipes, sippy cups and other gear, we moved up to preschool items.  The table that converted into an art easel, the swing set with safety seats so the children did not fly off to Kansas when we pushed them... okay, a bit of an exaggeration, but it made me giggle.  We purchased booster seats for our dining room, a booster seat for travelling to places with less than sparkling booster seats. (WHY were we eating at places with dirty booster seats?)  Plastic shoe boxes filled with fat crayons, fun dough, stacking blocks and other preschool appropriate toys.... it just goes on and on. 
    Now the big one.  We have GIRLS. This means lots of clothes and accessories.  We don't just have a pair of shoes, we have sandals, flip flops, white dress shoes, black dress shoes, brown loafers, tennis shoes and whatever else can be marketed to girls.  We have millions of hair accessories, tights, hats and purses.    If you have sons, please do NOT tell me how many shoes your son has, unless you just WANT to hear me let out a little whimper. 
   I have girls who also like science and bugs and outdoor things. This means I have dolls, stuffed animals, a remote control dragonfly, a remote control dinosaur, Knex, jewelry and of course, the greatest evil ever created, Barbie and her teeny tiny shoes that somehow puncture the soles of adult feet.
   I have been getting rid of things daily. I am serious. I have a mission.  I am going to live more simply. I am going to have an easy move.  I'm not kidding.  Do you sense the desperation?  I envision myself duck taped to a rock with a fishing pole.. I am trying desperately to reel the line in, only to discover that this is some sort of horrific fishing pole with three lines pulling in different directions at the same time.
    I am from a military family.  I can reduce. I can pack.  I have had the most organized moves ever.  My last move I actually still managed to have inventory lists taped to the outside of each box.  I'm not yet ready to simply toss things in bins and hope we eventually find everything.  I am not yet ready to treat our move like a scavenger hunt. 
   Thank God we are not moving just yet.  I still have time.... I just need to get rid of a few more things...

K12 Second Post

    Our experiences with virtual school.  Let me make a tiny disclaimer...

We are not experts. We are still new to the virtual school program, curriculum and all this entails.  We have in no way completed any scientific research. This is simply our personal experiences.

   There, now I can enjoy myself as I add this little update.

First, let me say we have already made a few adjustments.  In our classroom area, I placed an assortment of shelves from around the house.  There are some taller shelves and some shorter shelves.  Ok, enough.  Originally, we had placed all of the textbooks, workbooks and other materials on two lower shelves next to the work table in our "classroom" area.  Bending over or sitting on the floor quickly became annoying for all of us.  We simply moved the school books to a shelf at eye level, and then filled the now empty lower shelves with clearly labeled plastic bins and totes filled with art and science extras.

    The second most helpful change we made:  Especially with my younger child, we began to see that she would be producing a LOT of worksheets and writing assignments. Rather than have her notebook become overstuffed and cumbersome, we created a file bin.  We found a cute shelf storage bin for $4.00 and filled it with file folders.  Each folder has a child's name (which I have blurred in the photo) as well as a subject.  Now, at the end of the unit, each child gathers all of her assignments and places them in the appropriate folders.  We can find them again quickly for semester review or to copy and send work samples.

      We have the storage bin on the table in this picture because we had just created it and added paperwork, normally, it resides on a shelf. (The table was a garage sale find.  It is a small breakfast sized table with a leaf that we found a garage sale.  The top was scratched and water stained.  We used to use it as a board game table, but this summer, we sanded it down, cut up extra scrapbook paper into different sized squares and decoupaged it. We sealed it with a heavier polyurethane since it would be used daily.. VIOLA! Fun project for us and a wonderful workspace for the girls.)

   In this photo, my older child is working to the left with a laptop and my younger child is working in her notebook on the right.  To reduce the number of times my younger child would be searching for the right workbook and the right pages, I made one other change.  The workbook pages are perforated, so I put dividers in her notebook and on Saturday or Sunday, I tear out an entire Unit from each subject and hole punch them.  I add them to her notebook along with more filler paper at the back. This may seem petty, but my younger child has several workbooks. 

   Another disclaimer:  She is not bound to her chair for the entire day.  She must still get up to get her textbooks or other resources. This simply reduces the silly hunting in between lessons. 

    Now, something I was secretly worried about. One of my children drives me bananas.  I knew that she had a great deal of difficulty sitting still.  I also knew that because she does complete her work, her teachers had made certain concessions.  She was permitted to stand, wiggle, and walk around her desk within a certain very small radius as long as her pencil was on the paper and she was working.  I grossly underestimated how much this would annoy me.  I allow it, because she simply works better when she is permitted to wiggle, but it really has been difficult for me to adjust to her need to move her body while she is reading and writing.

    I mention this because your child may have a habit.  It may be foot tapping, wiggling or whatever else children can come up with.  Your child's teachers may have even mentioned it to you as it may have been a distraction in the classroom.  Guess what? It is your problem now.  You get to be the one who decides if it is getting in the way of their ability to learn, or if it is simply an annoyance.  You get to decide if you are allowing a habit that will cause problems for your child in the future.  My child can sit and act well at dinner, so I don't get it, but it is what it is.  She will wiggle and complete her assignments, so she will continue to wiggle.

   We have also made a few adjustments to the schedule.  In a regular school setting, children often line up to walk to PE, or line up to walk to art class. Yes, the older children typically only have one recess, or an afternoon snack time.  Anyway, I do have them get up and move around after each lesson whenever possible.  Sometimes they simply want to move on to the next lesson, but we have added a few "leg stretchers" in between.  It helps greatly with their ability to pay attention and more importantly, they enjoy their work better when it is broken up a bit.

    There have been a few other glitches here and there. One of my children did not click on "submit" at the end of her scantron test, so it did not ever register.  Yes, we went past the deadline and did not realize it, but her teacher said it was okay and to just redo it.  We have had two appointments to schedule around so far and that has been wonderful for so many reasons.  We just picked up where we left off. One of them was a pretty intense dental emergency, so that child had a "light" day. 

    All of my questions and/or concerns have been addressed.  There are solutions for everything we have come across.  If it takes my child 5 minutes instead of 30 to complete an activity, she can make up the attendance time with related activities. Just as a for instance, one of my children really likes to read.  She gets 6 hours of classwork completed in 5. What do we do about attendance? She can count her reading time toward her Literature attendance.  The other child may watch a show on the History channel that is similar to her History unit. Viola, she gets to count that toward her History attendance... once her work is complete.  These extra activities do not get counted until the required coursework is complete.  It would be pretty foolish to have logged 6 hours of attendance in History and have no work completed simply because your child likes that channel.  When this was explained to me, I was reminded that in a typical school, children do not sit with pencil to paper for 6 hours per day. There are other activities, other art projects, other videos and movies as well as all of the time used for bathroom, lining up, recess, etc... If I want to add an activity to supplement the material that is being covered, it is not only something I would have ordinarily done, but now my kids get class credit also. BONUS.

   This will be the third week of school. We are still new, but already we have found a comfort level.  Monday is a holiday, so we can take the day off or do some school work to get ahead.  We have not decided yet.  That is the beauty of this.  We have options and flexibility.  I can see where this would quickly become a spiralling nightmare if "procrastination" became a regular visitor, but if you are doing what you intended, and that is spending the time educating the children, this is filled with bonuses.

   I also have another blog if you would like to read more detail about our virtual school adventures.

    http://ourk12days.blogspot.com/

   

  

Writing and other joys

My youngest child says to me this morning, "If I were to create a blog, it would just say, Save the Planet!"

I love to write. I always have. I have kept creative journals since I can remember. I have documented the fun times and the most painful events and it has shown me an aweful lot about people and myself. Somehow, writing it all down seems to help me make sense of it.

It can sometimes be easy to find my path has altered course a little at a time until my destination seems unrecognizable. This happens for my benefit and sometimes for my detriment.

If I had never altered my course at all, I would be an engineer in a research laboratory somewhere. At one time, I thought it was a good idea to get a job in the field I was studying and soon after, nixed the engineering course. Yes, I still would like to make a great discovery, or create a better version of something already in use, but I did not relish spending the greater majority of my time with more computers than people. I changed my direction. My writing showed me both that I felt isolated with so few people around, and that I really do still like the scientific process. I found more confidence in myself, not failure.

I don't even need to explain why dating requires altering ones course. I mean really. If I had married the first or second or hundred and fourth guy I went on a date with, who knows where I would be today.

I can say that I am making changes that will benefit my family and the planet, but if I look through my journal and seem the same, "maybe next time" statements, I know that I am not doing enough. It is accountability. It is peace of mind, it is a reminder that I am growing. It is self awareness that at one time in my life I loved chocolate and detested popcorn. It is a reminder that pitfalls in life are not the last chasm of doom. Most importantly, it has been a reminder that no matter what, I have made it through. I am not alone. I am heard. I am loved.

Each person I take the time to get to know, makes an imprint on my path. Some people have influenced me to try things that seemed completely beyond me. Some have reminded me of the value of a good friend. Human contact is precious to me. I am not "enough" on my own. I bend to my own will, I listen to my own judgement. Other people remind me of what is true. Other people remind me that I am not the smartest, nor the creator of all.

Imagine just how aweful I would be.....without my friends and my stories of them in my blog. I need a little of their stardust dropped on me often. I can write about it, and remember later when I think that all is lost, or that I am so special that "God is picking on me".

Because I am surrounded with the love of others, their stories of hope and pain, and their gentle reminders, I know that I am not so unique.  I am not the only one who has ever gone through this struggle and gift we call a life.  I know that I am not alone. I know that God is not picking on me.  Life is what it is.  It is sprinkled with joy, hope, calamity, excruciating pain and plenty of mystery.
 
Fortunately for me, mine provides plenty to write about.

Crack People

    Crack people is a term one of my aunts used to use.  She was in a crossroads in her own life when I first remember her using the term.  She had given up her stable career to pursue a completely different career.  While she was in college, she said once that she was now considered a "crack person".  Too poor to afford what she needed, but since she had her own home and a modest income, she did not qualify for food stamps or any other assistance.  She had fallen into a "crack". 
    Okay, so I really am not there. Yes, I did quit a very good, very stable job to pursue another career.  Yes, my new income is a mere percentage of my previous income, but I'm not there financially.  I can still afford not only what I need, but choices.
    However, her terminology did get me thinking.  I was born a citizen of the United States.  When I was a small child, I moved to Europe.  I went to Department of Defense Dependents Schools. (DoDDS) I spent my daytime around other Americans and my evenings and weekends with my English neighbors. I graduated from school there.  I loved it, although I was always the American girl.  I moved here, and yes, I am an American, with a US Passport, but I felt like a foreigner here. 
     Twenty years later, I still get "homesick".. When I say that, I mean for England.  Scientists believe that soon after birth, animals 'imprint' their mothers.  (I'm sure if I did a search, someone else has perhaps made this comparison.)  When a baby animal is around another species during that 'imprinting' time, it can be 'improperly' imprinted.  That is, the duck may believe it is really a gorilla. 
    I'm wandering a bit... Okay, so I do not believe I am either a duck.... or a gorilla. That is sort of my entire point.  I know I was born in this country.  I even have memories of living in Florida, Texas and Las Vegas, but the things that feel "normal" to me are very very English.  Living in a home with doors to to into the living room, kitchen and dining room feels normal to me, not confined or broken up.  Feeling a light mist in the air feels completely normal to me. Driving down a winding road with trees forming a beautiful archway for miles feels completely normal.  I was not English.  I was American, but my normal, and my memories are all English.  I  don't mind if my drink does not have ice.  A jar of pickled eggs on the counter does not phase me, nor does a multi colored Mohawk with multiple facial piercings.
    I have lived here for twenty years and there are still things that seem cartoonish to me.  Giant cowboy hats and big belt buckles absolutely perplex me.  I know there is something to it, but I don't understand. I don't suppose there are really words to properly describe the entire meaning of anything cultural.  I have tried to explain some things to my husband, but he simply has no point of reference.  What do you mean you had on demand hot water as a child?  Yes, thirty years ago, we had on demand hot water tanks on the wall. It is not new technology.  Those things just make me sigh.
      Drive thru windows with one for payment and one for pickup still seem silly.  In my mind it is like we are all cartoon cars zooming ahead a few feet and stopping... There is a lot of that here. Also, I don't mind nudity in itself, but do find myself disturbed by violence. (I don't shield my children from human bodies, but I do shield their eyes from shootings or explosions.)  I am used to both beaches with pebbles and beaches with sand am I am always surprised when someone comments on them.  I do see the bonus of having my own car, and also see the greed.  How many opportunities to make new friends have I missed by not being able to take a train? 
    I guess if I am honest. I do not really belong to either country.  My husband will say sometimes that I am too English in my attitudes.  My English friends would probably have said the reverse.  When I was in England, I looked forward to our trips to the "states".. I would buy American style clothes and ship them to myself in boxes.  I would buy American candies to share with my friends.  It was a novelty.  Now, I feel the same about Pickled Onion Monster Munch, Cadbury Flake and Kinder Eggs.   I could fill a suitcase with those things.. Oooooh.. and Smarties... I miss Smarties...
     Ahhh.. but my point is that I believe I may be a "crack" person.  I was born on a tropical island. I live in the most unusual weather climate I have ever visited, and I grew up in England.  I may very well end up living in other places before I leave this planet and I doubt I will ever be able to answer the question, "Where are you from?" without a bit of hesitation.   I don't really fit perfectly into any answer, but I can also see the tremendous benefits of my life.
     I have had stability for twenty years. I have lived and visited more places than most of the people I know.  I am not afraid to try new things. I am not afraid to try new foods.  I had friends who were born in locations all over the world.  I was exposed to so many cultures and beliefs.  I may not know how to answer the questions about where I am from, but I do know who I am.  I do know what I like.  I also know that I have an enormous amount of compassion. 
    So, I may be a "crack person".. neither from her, nor there. I have memories from both sides of the Atlantic.  I have played in deserts, on beaches, and in castles as a child.  I am very grateful for my "crack" background. It has made me who I am today.  I have traditions in my own home that come from both countries. In a way, I am sharing my own childhood with my children.  Someday, I hope to be able to take them on a tour of my childhood homes.  Well, let's not be ridiculous... It took me a lifetime to get to all of them.. perhaps just a sample would do.  Besides, they have their own lives and their own memories to build.  I wouldn't want to get in the way of their own personal journey.  My children still live in the state that is listed on their birth certificate.  In some ways, I guess they are also "crack" people as their dad is not "from" here either.  Ahhh.. well, it is what it is. They will be better able to answer, "Where are you from?" when they live somewhere else. 
    Yes, I do say that my children will probably live somewhere else. Perhaps another part of my 'imprinting' is that for me, it is much more normal for children to move out into the world on their own.  It is not my 'normal' to think that children live with their parents or in the same area as their parents once they have reached adulthood.  We shall see... either way, I am just a phone call away and that is what truly matters. 
    Ultimately, nobody really cares where I am from... It is just a conversation starter; a pleasantry.  What really counts in this lifetime is that whether we have lived in the same house for forty years or if we are "crack" people, we make the time for those pleasantries.  Those little half hearted questions have lead to a lifetime of wonderful friendships for me.  So, get out there and ask someone where they are from, what their favorite restaurant is....whatever you feel like. Be receptive to answering questions from others. You never know when you will be able to add another really good friend to your life.  No matter where I live, no matter where I travel, I know that I have a good friend just a phone call or email away.
   Thank you to all who have taken the time to have a fun conversation with me.

And this is how it happens....

     In these times, we get information as it is happening.  My grandmother has said that most of the things that happen are not really new. They have been happening since the beginning of time.  She tells me, "Read the bible, there have always been thieves, whores and murderers. Don't let anyone blame your generation for all of the evil."
    My grandmother is a smart woman.  I hear her words when I watch the news.  I try to remind myself that nothing is new when I see so many earthquakes, tsunamis, hurricanes, tornadoes and other disasters. I try to remind myself that nothing is new... that we have survived all of this before..
    So, this brings me to today's nonsense.  I live in what I consider to be a rather extreme area of the world. I'm sure it is not the most extreme, but it is the most extreme place I have ever lived.  Let me explain, step by step.
     In the winter, often there are extreme storms that leave thousands without electricity. I understand that my uncle has snow drifts above his roof line, and I will agree that is extreme.  We do not usually get much snow.  We get ice.  It literally rains ice. Once that ice lands on the streets, it makes the roads useless.  It is simply dangerous. As the ice falls, it weighs down the power lines and tree limbs.  Eventually those collapse and cause power outages as well as trees crashing into cars, roofs...etc.. You get the idea.. This happens often, not once every twenty years or so.
     Once the ice melts and things begin to thaw, rapidly we approach tornado season.  The first week of May seems to be the worst.  Now, most people who live here are used to them, in that there is usually not panic involved when the sirens sound, usually.  There are jokes about people standing outside watching them go by. This is true.  We have the best weather warning system in the world and we can see exactly which street the tornado is headed for. It is amazing.  It is also deadly weather. 
     Their are also regular storms, although calling them 'regular' seems a little misleading. I have lived here for 20+ years and do not use an umbrella for 99% of these storms.  Why?  Is it because it is just a little light rain or mist? NO.  In Oklahoma, when there are storms, there is usually a LOT of wind and lightning. When I say wind, I am not talking about Portland, Oregon or Pensacola, Florida where they issue wind advisories when it is over 20 mph.  (PUHLEEZE )  I am talking about crazy 50-80 mph winds that will tear off a roof just as easily as  a tornado.  The lightning is just as bad.  I know so many people who have had their houses struck by lightning. Some of those have just had to purchase all new appliances and electronics and have their houses rewired. Some have had to rebuild. Oh, are you wondering about the umbrellas?  Yeah, watch the people from out of town with their umbrellas. First of all, there is LIGHTNING... the real stuff, not the stuff in the Internet photos.  Second... well, unless you purchase the large vented umbrella, you are really wasting your time.  The wind blow the rain so hard here that it is often sideways.  Yes, sideways.  So you are going to be drenched anyway, even if your umbrella does not turn itself inside out from the winds.  Why bother.   People often joke after they move here that you need to learn to drive in the wind, since it really is work to keep your car on the road when it's over 50 mph.
    Okay, so that gets us to the summer. We have two choices here.  Either really hot and humid or unbelievably hot and parched.  There is no mild summer here. If you prefer accommodating temperatures, do not stop here. This summer, we had a break in the weather last week and 96 degrees felt LOVELY.. Can you imagine a day when 96 feels wonderful? Exactly. It had been well over 100 for days and the 96 was quite a drop.
    So, we have ice storms that can trap us in our homes for days, we have tornadoes and other violent storms, we have severe lightning and super hot summers.... I feel like I am leaving something out. Oh yes, HAIL.. Hail sounds so explainable scientifically.  It seems to require very specific conditions to produce.  I am telling you that hail comes often here. For no apparent reason.  The first few years I lived here, I actually believed it was only associated with tornadoes.  We have had a lot of hail the last few years.
    Now, why in the world did this come up today? I will tell you.  My husband and I are talking about different places we are considering moving.  He is not from Oklahoma either, but apparently he has forgotten what it is like to live anywhere else.  I told him the monthly climate averages in a couple of the other areas, told him there were no more earthquakes than there are here. (We get them, but they are no big deal.)  I told him it doesn't get too cold in the winter, and rarely reaches 100 in the summer. Tornadoes are extremely rare and no hurricanes.  He looked at me as if I must be lying.  He even had me compare statistics with our town.
    He has not lived here as long as I have, but he firmly believes that everywhere is as extreme as this area.  Well, I told him I still believe there are places where the weather is not terrifying.  I lived somewhere for 11 years. I never saw a tornado, (they have had a hand full of them), never felt an earthquake, and never saw more than a few snowflakes.  There certainly were no ice storms.  Once there was a violent lightning storm and a couple of houses burned down. Once.   I believe there are still places on this planet where I would not assume I will use my house insurance.  He does not. He acted as if there was a 'catch', or some fine print.  So, we will be taking a few trips. 
        My first storm in Oklahoma, I was completely unprepared and uneducated about tornadoes.  The sirens went off and I took a cordless phone, a $20 bill and my car keys to the closet of my apartment and called my father.  "What do I do now?" I asked...   He shouted back, "Get off of the phone!" and hung up on me.
    Needless to say, he has laughed a lot about that day.   He grew up in Oklahoma and Kansas, so he knew. He had seen.  I could never have imagined the things I have seen the weather do here. It is almost as ridiculous to try to explain what it is like here as it is to explain to my Oklahoma friends what it is like to just have regular light rain often.  No crazy wind, no lightning, no floods.. just a little rain.  
     It is an amazing world that we live in...and there is a reason that people study weather here.  It is quite the sampler platter.  I cannot imagine anyplace where you would see more variety.  So I remind myself, this is nothing new.  We have survived so many disasters and rebuilt our lives and homes.  Still, I find myself wondering what it will be like in the next place that we live. 
        One thing is for certain. No matter where we end up, we will certainly be prepared.  Even if it has a more extreme winter, or a more extreme summer, this new place certainly will not have both.  I am crossing cities off of our list if they could possibly have both.  I know what to do in an emergency situation. I have had plenty of practice.  I can pack all of my daughters meds in an orderly fashion  in seconds.  (My daughter has an entire kitchen cabinet full of medications.)   I know what to do in a variety of situations.

Anything Can Become Normal

     Ask someone who has survived long term abuse, or a recovering drug addict or alcoholic.  Anything can become normal.  Reality shows about hoarding are popular because most of us have a train wreck type reaction.  We don't want to look, but we just cannot help it.  We are so curious. How did it happen?  When was the turning point? 
           I say this because, I spent my entire life with something that did not seem so unusual to me, until one summer afternoon when I was 38 years old.  I had been seen many times for a variety of symptoms, but since I seemed athletic and healthy when I was younger, my heart was never checked... Looking back, I can see there were times when I should have spoken up a bit more.. and having the same doctor for more than a year or two may have helped.  Ultimately, it is what it is.
          One morning I woke up and things were definitely worse.  I was not able to breathe.  After several minutes, I finally was able to take shallow breaths and I thought I was going to be okay, but things quickly changed and I needed to go to the hospital.  
        Typically, there is one hospital I trust in this area.  It was written on my information at work, just in case.  My husband has always known about this and was turning the car to drive in that direction. I was not able to take in air.  I could feel that I was losing this particular battle. There was one tiny problem with the hospital I trust, it was at least a 30 minute drive and I was not sure how much longer I could remain conscious.  I whispered to him, "Turn right, I won't make it."
     I'm sure that seems just a bit over dramatic, yes?  I don't know.. Looking back, perhaps I should have made a bigger deal of my symptoms many more times. Either way, it is what it is.
      This was actually the first time I would go to the E.R. for this. I had many episodes where my heart had raced or I had trouble breathing. I had been diagnosed with panic disorder or asthma or a long list of other things.  This time was different.  I actually stopped breathing. 
       While at the hospital, they began to stabilize me. First with oxygen, then my heart rate was over 250 so they wanted to bring it down.  As the medication began to work, I held on to my husband's hand for dear life.  It was the most terrifying feeling.  The doctor said I should start feeling more relaxed quickly and he was sort of correct. 
        Here is what I mean when I say anything can become normal.  My entire life I had episodes of a racing heartbeat.  I was told I was high strung, or had panic attacks.. Honestly, any of those things could be true, but I also began to brush them off at an early age.  I would tell myself, "Suck it up" often.  "Just keep putting one foot in front of the other."  
       I do not know the technical terms behind what happens to the brain during these episodes, but I can tell you that my body and brain were not used to 60-70 beats per minute.  Dropping rapidly from 276 down to 60 felt as if my life was slipping away.  I felt like I was watching the bars of my personal battery life disappear. Worst of all, I felt as if I was going to just drift off to sleep.  That might have felt good if I had not known of people who literally bottomed out on this medication and died.  I was terrified.  I have always had to fight to sleep, I had never "drifted" unless under anesthesia and I was scared.  So I held my husband's hand.  Both to let him know that I was still conscious, so that he would know when to get help, and to help myself not be so alone with my fear.  Ultimately, I did lose consciousness for a couple of hours.  I jokingly referred to that afternoon as my "dirt nap" and went to work that night.  The doctors warning of the possibility of "sudden cardiac death" seemed a little over dramatic since, like I said, I had felt my heart race before...many times.
     Anything can become normal.  For 38 years, my heart rate was too high.. Many times each day, my heart rate was over 200. It was normal to me.  It was only scary a few times.  A few months after that day in the ER, I had the surgery that interrupted the defect in my heart. 
     A little over a year ago, I watched the heart monitor for hours in amazement as my heart rate remained steady.  I could feel what others felt. I could breathe better than I ever had before.  Now..a little over 15 months later, that is just normal to me.  I can breathe. I have more energy than ever.  I do not look into the mirror in the morning and tell myself that I will live through this day.  It has become normal to simply FEEL like I will live through the day.
     Now, my ulterior motive for writing this.  I know there are so many people who see the TV, the news, the magazines and what they see just seems so foreign. Good or bad.  Either you cannot imagine living that badly, or you cannot imagine a life so wonderful.  Either way.  Just remember that anything can become normal.  A seemingly normal person can become a drug addicted prostitute in a short amount of time. A prostitute can turn their life around and become a law student.
     Even with my own experiences, I struggle with anything outside of my own "normal".  I have done what is acceptable to me.  I cannot understand someone allowing things that are so absurd or destructive to become their "normal".  I do not understand people who throw away kindness, gifts and talents for the high of drugs and alcohol.  I do not understand the slippery slope of excuses it brings. 
     Or maybe I do. Maybe that is really what is bothering me is that I understand more than anyone that ANYTHING can become normal.  I do not tell myself I will live through the day anymore because now, it is just normal to wake up breathing fine.  It is something I take for granted. 
      Maybe while I am praying that this person finds an end to this horrible path and telling this person they can do something other than destroy this gift of life, maybe I should also remind myself that each day is a gift.  Each day that we can tell each other we love each other is precious. 
      I should also remember when I am resistent to change my habits that ANYTHING can become normal.

Perhaps it is a family curse, or perhaps it is rust.

    When I was a very small child in England, my parents had interesting transportation choices.  There were two motorcycles and a Morris Minor Traveller.  Commonly called a "woody". 

(Photo by Michele Hamer)

I do not remember exactly what model the motorcycles were.. There have been many over the years, but if you look at the photo, you can see that even at the age of 7, I had questions about this particular car.  I still do not know why they had this car.  Did they think it was novel? Was it a collector's item?  Was there a car shortage the year we moved to England?  Did somebody give it to them?  I don't know.  Honestly, if the answer mattered at all, I would ask.   The car in the picture is a 1964 model, and I'm sure ours was not much younger.  There is one difference between the car in the photo and the car we owned.  Our car was actually driven as a family car in England. 

    England is lovely. The climate is temperate. There are no sudden shifts to ice storms nor temperatures soaring to 110 degrees Fahrenheit.  England is an island. A wonderful island with salty sea air.  Our car had a fair amount of rust, as did any car more than a year old.

     One morning, we drove the 19 miles to the military base in the fog. It was very dense fog in the early mornings and I often wonder how long it took my mom to get used to the fog there. How long did it take her to become comfortable driving on the left side of the road, driving in fog and finding her way around after living in Oklahoma, Texas, Nevada and Florida.  (Places not known for dense fog nor winding roads.)

     Anyway, so it was about 6 o'clock in the morning and just as we could see the security gate on the back side of the base, the car seemed to drop and come to a pretty sudden and noisy stop.  (I do not remember all of the exact speed limits, but I know that 55 mph seemed slow when I moved here.)  It was still pretty dark out as well as being extremely foggy, so we really had no idea what had happened.  Looking back, even in broad bright daylight, I'm not sure we would have guessed correctly.

   We got out of the car and took a look.  The front of the car looked just fine, so we apparently did not hit anything.  However, we all noticed the car was leaning at about the same time.  We looked toward the back and the rear of the car was actually sitting on the ground.  The rear axle, with the tires still attached was behind the car.  Now that I am older and have lived through many more ridiculous calamities than could possibly seen normal or average I wonder: Perhaps it is some sort of family curse that causes such ridiculous events to surround our family, or perhaps it was just rust.

    Of course, my brother and I thought it was cool.  To us, it was the same as pulling the axle off of our Hotwheels or Matchbox cars.  Mom was not clapping or cheering at all. 

    I'm not a little kid anymore.  I can only imagine being new to a foreign country, finding my way around in the fog on the side of the road I was told NEVER to drive on, trying to get to work on time and not get lost.  I can imagine having to call my boss or commanding officer to report that I would be late due to THAT situation.  Who would believe that BOTH wheels fell off of the car?

     Well, all of that salty sea air meant that we went through several cars while we were there. The car immediately following the "woody" was a MGBGT..  Google that.  It certainly seems like a logical vehicle choice for a family of four, right?  Like I said before, I have no idea what made my parents chose a car.  I don't ask about any of them.  The cars have all had their own oddities.  The last car my mom owned before she moved back to the US was a 1988 Limited Edition Wimbledon Mini... My dad was 6'2" and I was 5'7".  Somehow, I actually fit comfortably in the back seat.  That car was like the Tardis and had wheels the same size as our lawn mower, but it also got 52 miles per gallon of gas.. That is pretty impressive.  They do not make Mini's like that in this country.  There are extra pesky safety features that weight the car down and change the fuel economy.  Sigh...   Maybe that car made sense... Ugh, no... cause careening around the corners at 80+ mph in something that squished easier than a soda can does not make sense to me.  I'm sure there was a reason. Maybe someday I will ask about the Carmen Ghia, MGBGT, Woody, Mini and many others.  There has to be a story there.

Man, I Talk WAY too Much About Cows!

I must rant a little..

I just read an article about the moral and ethical opposition to cloning animals for meat.

Insert Eye Roll Here:

First, lets just put aside the moral and ethical stickiness for just a moment. That is just pesky detail at this point in time and really, it is irrelevant until a few other issues are clarified.

I think this country has gone completely mad! I see products invented, and sold that are more cumbersome, more expensive and less efficient than their predecessors. People are creating and buying and inventing just to be doing so. Often there is no actual service provided. We have a 'newer must be better' attitude and it is destroying all known logic.

For instance, have you taken a good look at the pharmaceutical industry? Imitrex was an invaluable addition to the pharmaceutical industry. Many people, such as myself, who were previously unable to get relief from debilitating migraines, were suddenly given a medication that not only eliminated the migraine, but had no "dopey" side effects to battle. So, recently comes a new drug in the battle against migraines. It is advertised to be the newest miracle in relief. It has a brand new patent, so sells for a much more inflated price, and it is called, Treximet. The name and advertisement peeked my interest, so I looked it up. Yes, there is something up, Treximet is a combination of Imitrex and naproxen sodium... commonly known as the brand ALEVE. Yes.. we would never figure that out right? Pay the much higher price for the newer medication rather than pay the lower price and take your own naproxen sodium... (BTW, that also comes in a generic form.)

What? You might be thinking that I picked on poor Treximet, right? No.. I happen to have a row of heart medications in my cabinet that violate the same rules. Cardiac medications are really good at it.. change the mix a bit so that we will continue to pay brand name prices. "Newer is better" right?

Now, on to more important nonsense. The FDA has decided that certain types of genetically modified vegetables are NOT safe for consumption. Genetically modified corn comes to mind first. We watched as hundreds of products were pulled from shelves as the decision was made about its safety...

First, it was already being sold to people to feed to human beings, second and most absurdly, it was deemed safe to feed to livestock. Wait just a moment. What IS livestock? Pre-food right? So, I should not eat the modified corn, I should not feed it to my children, but once it is consumed by a cow and becomes ground beef or steaks, it is then safe and purified? This logic absolutely astounds me! Honestly, purchasing food is now so complicated if you actually care about such things. The labels have become as goofy as our regulation system. An organic sticker may not guarantee pesticide free, chemical free or free range. Basically, there is an application process for the sticker, and somewhere "organic" has also lost its meaning. We should have guessed when the prices of organic produce began to compete with the 'regular" stuff.

Back to food cloning... Sheesh, I told you I needed to rant...

Okay, so did anyone else read the little details about cloning animals? It is not currently possible to clone a creature at the end of its life and have it live an entire 'normal' life cycle. The DNA is aged. Apparently, the DNA has a time stamp. A "BEST WHEN USED BY" date. We don't really understand it, but it should perhaps also have a warning sticker. Stay with me, this really is not that complex.

So, a bovine embryo is created... the old fashioned way on July 1, 2011... This embryo grows and becomes a fetus then out plops a calf on April 9, 2012. Some farmer scratches his head and decides that the new legislation will allow him to increase his herd and profits exponentially by cloning. (For this argument of silliness, lets just say there is no cost to cloning, maybe it will be a federally sponsored event.)

Little Bessie the cow is cloned on her first birthday. Theoretically, Bessie II will have a normal 282 day gestation and be born on January 16, 2013. Wait, the DNA in Bessie II is already 22 months older than it was intended to be... Maybe this is not obvious to you... So... Bessie is well kept, milked only to support the farmers family and lives to a ripe old age of 14. Bessie II does not have a "normal" life expectancy. From what I have read, she probably would die sooner do to DNA damage during cryation as well as that "time stamp".

Do I feed the children Bessie II's milk? DNA is a pretty tricky material. Scientists and Doctors really just do not understand enough about it to be making these decisions. We know that things change DNA, and some are trying to alter this "time stamp" already. Guess what? Cancer is a horrible example of DNA mutation. My concern isn't just cancer, it is for the diseases and illnesses that we have not yet created.

30 years ago, BSE was unheard of. In 1984, a farmer called for help because ONE of his cattle seemed ill. It was arching its back and losing weight. By 1987 it was nightly news in England. Herds were being slaughtered, scientists were puzzled. In investigation was set up to determine the implications on human health. In 1989, a ban was placed on all BSO related food sources even though there had been no link to human illness or the possibility there of at that time. The statement was made that "If our assessments of these likelihoods are incorrect, the implications would be extremely serious."

Yes, that is correct, they did not wait until they could prove that 8 out of 10 mice would die from infected materials. They did not make excuses, saying "Well, that mouse probably would have died anyway, and the other mice dies from emotional problems." No, they just banned it, period!

Why do I talk about the cows so much? I rarely ever ate meat when I was younger, but this still affects me today. I cannot donate blood or organs because the CDC recommended at first that I wait 15 years to be safe, now they have changed their guidelines to "lifetime" for me. Would you like to know why? By 1996, there had been six cases of humans getting a similar illness after eating infected meat. There is no cure for this illness. In humans it is called vCJD..This is the human form of BSE. ( I'm not spelling that one out for you. I don't really feel like going all the way through the scientific history on CJD now, it is long winded.~ Do not laugh.) If you get it, you stumble, lose control of your mind and body, and then you die. It is not pleasant. Why does it matter? There are more elderly being diagnosed now with CJD and vCJD. It is suspected that the disease may 'incubate' for many years after infection. (They are now considering that it may lay dormant for up to 60 years.)

Why does it matter, because people are people. If a farmer notices a cow may not look quite right, rather than waiting to confirm and receive 50% of its value, why not go ahead and send it to slaughter a little early?

So... back to the cloning. BSE was thought to have been 'created' by feeding cow proteins to cows.. (Basically, grinding up whatever bits, adding it to the feed as a supplement.) We created a horrific disease that cannot be cured, incinerated, or otherwise destroyed. Do you see why I am concerned?

We are what we eat. Do I believe the FDA, when they allow something until it kills "too many" people? I tend to think that one unnecessary death is too many, especially if it is my family. Do I simply believe that it will all be just fine? To quote again, "If our assessments of these likelihoods are incorrect, the implications would be extremely serious." It is an understatement to be sure because people will be people. It is just a matter of time before someone leaves out important information just to make more money. It is just a matter of time before obvious implications are cloaked. What is terribly sad is that these are not magicians with elaborate tricks. The information is actually available to all of us, but it is a whisper with the constant shouts and screams of mass marketing drowning it. Is it really all about the money?

Okay, so I have gone on and on and not said it.. The common name for BSE is "MAD COW DISEASE".

Almost Speechless

    

Not a Beach Bum .....yet

      I am not a typical beach bum... I do not like to lay out and tan, I also do not surf and am not a proficient swimmer. I do not have a beach body. So, I guess I am not really a beach bum at all. 

     When I travel to my favorite beach. I do not take chairs or a blanket. I carry a bag with few items. Sunscreen, towels, cameras, snacks and water. Occasionally, we will also bring a bucket to make castles or collect shells.  I have tried lugging chairs, blankets, books, umbrellas... I just do not enjoy myself that way. I do not like to sit or lay there and feel my skin cooking. I love to walk around. I love to try to get the perfect pictures.  I love this particular beach.

    This one particular beach has never been crowded when I have been there. In fact, we practically have the beach to ourselves.  Yes, we do pay to travel on the road that leads to the beach. We pay $8.00 for the week.  For $25.00, we can use the road for a year.  I consider it a bargain. For $8.00, I get to see this beach, walk around, collect shells, play with my children take pictures without someone else's family in them. Oh... occasionally, the sounds of my children and the waves are interrupted by the Blue Angels practicing.  I believe Thursdays they go through their entire show, and they fly over my favorite beach several times. Is it a nuisance or a free show?  I love this beach.

      I am already looking for houses in the Florida Panhandle. I have not found the perfect house yet. The time isn't quite right. I know that my family is not ready to move to Florida just yet. I am willing to wait for the right house and the right time. In the meantime, I wonder if I will still love this beach as much if I can visit it more than twice each year. What if this is just my version of a mid-life crisis? 

     I really cannot spend too much time on the worry.  Right now this is a dream in progress. It is meant to be desired and savored. It is not meant to be picked apart by fear and worry.  It is meant to be breathtaking and spectacular.  It is meant to be a dream until it is able to become my reality. Someday, I will be able to go to this peaceful place year round.

    Oh, I hear you wondering if my beach will become noisy, overcrowded, polluted, or otherwise ruined before I can live my dream.  Well, it is not likely, since my favorite beach is protected. It is part of a bird nesting area and is well guarded.  It is a long 8 mile road and sometimes the speed limit is 5 mph.  I love this beach. Hopefully, there will be no change to the protected status of this beach.

     I leave you with this taste of my dream...

    



Time and Butterflies Eyes

   This vacation has been so wonderful!  I have been looking forward to coming back since the moment I left last year. I love it here.
     I think everyone finds some place that is paradise for them.  When I was younger, it was England.  It was wonderful and magical beyond words when I was young. So even as my friends would speak only of how they wanted to go back to the "states", I was perfectly content with my arrangement. I lived in England for 11 years and came to the U.S. for a month each year for Thanksgiving and Christmas.  I really and truly had the best of both worlds during that time.
     Time has never really been my enemy. Before my brain injury, I was much more obsessed with it. It was as if I was in a competition with time. I worked 40-50 hours per week, I volunteered at school, I helped my children with their homework every single day and I attended all school events and sports games. I slept an average of 4 hours per day, but I was winning. I was not losing "time" with my children to "time" for my job.  So I thought anyway.
    That knock on my head was a knock at the door also.  I was able to see that I was doing the absolute best I could for my kids, but I was still too tired to actually savor any of it. It felt like a competition. I lived by celebrating each victory over time. Once I recovered enough to think about it, I could see that I really could do better. That I had been there in body, but I was usually too exhausted to really step in and enjoy life.
   So this brings me to today.  My grandfather asked me to combine my trip with his this year. My grandparents do not fly and they wanted to come to see my mom.I planned as well as I could. I spoke to my daughters a lot about safety.  They are old enough now to not wander off, so it was time to enlist their help.
    My grandmother is wonderful.  I have spent my whole life using my grandmother as my anchor.  Grandma's house, grandma's rules and grandma's beautiful smile were the only stable thing in my life when I was younger. I am the oldest of many grandchildren, and I always believed myself to be her favorite. (I know now that she is the most gifted grandmother, since we all felt that way.)
    My grandmother has had a stroke and is going through her own change. She is insistent about what she does or does not want to do now. She forgets things and sometimes has speech difficulties. She gets confused by words she has known forever. I explained to my girls that we do not want to upset grandma or hurt her feelings, but that at no time during this trip was grandma to be left alone. We would all be careful to "need' something at the same time to be sure she did not wander.  Sometimes now, grandma just gets annoyed with her current surroundings and looks for somewhere else to be.
    Her eyes get more sparkly and blue each time I see her.  She really has always had the most beautiful eyes, but now, they seem to just shine more so I asked my grandfather if I was imagining that. He said that he had noticed too and that they seem to sparkle more as her cares and worries are taken from her.
    What a loving way to explain it.

     Tomorrow will be two years since my daughter found me not breathing and called for help.  Even as I write this, I am very aware of how I am on "borrowed" time now.  In my family, we call this grace. I did nothing to deserve it. I do not own it. Yet I am here to enjoy this time with my children a little longer.  I was here to help my grandmother when she had the stroke. I was here to reassure those family members out of town that she was okay. I was here for a little longer.

    Even as I am here now, watching my grandmother call my mom by my name, and calling my daughter by my cousin's name, I know that it is still grace.

    Time is a little more complicated now. It almost seems cruel for those who are not able to have as much of it with grandma. Maybe my grandma uses my name so much because she has seen me so much these last twenty years.  Maybe my name is just one of the last things that stuck before her brain was injured. I do not know. I know that it is a blessing for me and a curse for my mom. My mom is aware that usually it is the other way around. I know this because we have talked about this. I actually said the words, "She will remember you long after she has forgotten me."  I guess I could not have known.

    I love my grandmother with all my heart.  I am sad that now time seems to be a little cruel, but in the same way, I believe it is preparing us all.  My grandmother is having trouble using words for what she means, she is easily confused, but I know that my grandmother is becoming pure love. We all know we need to spend more time with her. We all see how much we love her. We are being prepared. When she leaves this earth, she will be similar to a butterfly, this cocoon stage may be a little messy and even painful, but she will be more free and more beautiful.

    If my grandmother were a butterfly, I would know her anywhere by her beautiful eyes.

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Toilet Paper and Hovercraft

    OK, so today I attempted to do another demonstration with air pressure. It seemed timely.In Oklahoma, we see lots of examples of the forces of air pressure. Just last night, a microburst removed a roof from a house.
    So, how did I do this?  First, I reviewed Bernoulli's principles with some toilet paper. Yes. I sometimes take toilet paper to school for the purpose of science.  I introduced Harry the Hairdryer and informed the children that "Harry" was on a fieldtrip. After all, if you had to deal with hair like mine, you would need a field trip too!  Next, I used a round curtain rod and slipped a full roll of toilet paper onto it.  I turned on the hairdryer and nothing happened... Big deal. We are giving the toilet paper a little extra fluff.  OK.  So I asked the children if Bernoulli was correct, what was the problem?
    These kids are so smart.  They instantly that the full roll of toilet paper weighed too much.  I asked my assistant to look inside my bag... Ahhhh.. there is a partially used roll of toilet paper.  We slid it onto the curtain rod and turned on the hairdryer.  Away went the toilet paper. Wheeeeeeeee!  I love the fun experiments.  So of course then I asked my assistant to roll the toilet paper back onto the tube so that I could use it later...  Ewweeee...Okay, then I told him he could just throw it in the trash.
     Next, to demonstrate control of air pressure. I had already glued 2" sections of irrigation tube to CD's.   I passed them out and gave each child a balloon.  I drew a fantastic representation of a hovercraft on the white board.  I even drew the windows and an outline of myself looking out of the window waiting to go on my trip.  I explained that I would like to get from England to France. I have engines that blow massive amounts of air.  Which way should I point the air to be able to travel?
    One child raised their hand and said, "UP!"... Ummmm... I drew a little tear on my face.  If the air is going up then I am going.... "DOWN" they shouted.
     Yes... So they followed along nicely.  We blew up the balloons and the hovercraft WORKED!  YES!  Success!!
   More importantly, I think they understand a little more about the force of air.

Prepackaged snacks

Maybe I have mentioned this before, but I cannot help it. I am really not going to miss pre-packaged snacks. Purchasing boxes of individual bags of crackers, granola bars and other such snacks drives me a little more than batty. Who is it that only needs 6 of these items?  The boxes do not contain enough of these snacks to make me feel good about the purchase. Why is that? There are enough preservatives in these tiny packages to store them for a while, so why only put 6 or 9 in a box? The cost of keeping a single child supplied with these during a single school year is astronomical.

So that is my first complaint. My second is that I have not yet met the child who can remove the last snack from the box and actually dispose of the box. I look into my pantry and feel a little less stressed about my week as I see the boxes neatly lined up, ready for the children to add one to their lunch box each day.  I then walk toward the boxes to make sure there are enough in each box, only to discover three completely empty boxes. AAAAAACCCKKKKKK!

Starting this summer, I will be able to simply purchase regular family sized boxes of crackers. We will be able to sit together at the table and I will know that my children are eating the food that is presented to them. They are not trading their cheese sticks for a sandwich, or trading their sandwich for more crackers.
  
At this point, you are either thinking I am extremely petty or you are rolling your eyes because you have been here, or you are here with me. Who really tries to control what their children are eating anyways?  Okay, I get it, you do not have a child coming home STARVING every day only to find out that they have only eaten crackers for lunch for a week.  I was adding more protein items to her lunch with no change. I really could not understand it until I dropped by at lunchtime to watch the swap. 

Ahhhh... I remember a time when I had convinced my mom that I would only eat Hoagie style sandwiches. She was purchasing pickles, peppers, peperoni, salami, ham, tomatoes and lettuce just for me. Ummm.. I did not like these items and she was puzzled as to why I would eat them on a sandwich, but she bought them anyway.... so that I could trade them for other things. Yes, it probably would have been easier just to tell my mom what I really wanted to eat, but I was a pre-teen. What I was doing somehow made more sense to me.

Please excuse me... I have to call my mom.

Adjustments

    The term well adjusted always makes me smirk. I have no idea what this actual concept is. I have found adjustments to be particularly painful in my life.
   When I was fourteen, I found out I have spina bifida when I lost the ability to walk. After months of physical therapy, I was able to resume normal activities, but I lost a little trust in my life's course. My youngest daughter was in and out of the hospital the first two years of her life and when my second daughter was born fat, pink, healthy and breathing on her own, I cried for joy.  Six months later, that super healthy baby was in the hospital with meningitis, whooping cough and encephalitis.  For five long excruciating days, we waited to see if she would wake up at all. Two years ago, my oldest daughter found me not breathing and called for help. A couple of months after that, my heart stopped and I was left with a brain injury. For a while, I was unable to speak well, read, or understand what was going on around me. I had difficulty walking without assistance.
    If you were paying attention, you noticed that all of these events were adjustments in my life. You also noticed that I used phrases like, "for a while". 
     I have no idea where the path of my life would have taken me if I had not had several "adjustments".   I have no idea if it would have been just as interesting, horrible, or blissful beyond dreams. I only know the path my life has taken. I was able to walk again, my oldest daughter now lives a fairly normal life, my youngest daughter survived meningitis. I am writing this, so perhaps you have guessed that I can speak, read and understand.
    It is what it is.. I have been adjusted.  I do not understand people who say they have not been through anything like this. The concept of a life free of these events is completely foreign to me. I have no ability to even picture it.  I know that as three of us in our little family have faced death head on, we don't take this time for granted. We do not have the arrogance of "That will never happen to us".  We simply do not have that luxury.  After my heart surgery, my surgeon went to the waiting room to apologize to my family and friends as the surgery had taken longer than expected.  He began with, "Her defect was in a very unusual area."  There was no reaction, so he continued, "This heart condition is fairly rare and her particular defect is only found in approximately 3% of patients with her condition."  My friends rolled their eyes and smiled. 
   "Of course it is the most rare and bizarre." They all said.  When I returned to work three days later, we joked about it. They said the surgeon really did not seem to understand their reaction. Everyone smiled. Nobody panicked.  He did not realize that I have seen plenty of rare and bizarre adjustments before.
     The miracles in life are easy for me to see.  I could walk for 14 years before anyone noticed that I had spina bifida. I can walk now.  My oldest child was born completely black from oxygen deprivation. She is now a very smart young woman. My youngest nearly died when three horrifying illnesses attacked her little body. She is totally deaf on one side and yet has no speech problems and scores off the charts on tests.  My heart stopped. Nobody knows exactly why it restarted, but it did. I could not understand basic commands. Now I am in college classes, working two jobs and creating fantastic projects to do with my children.
   I know miracles. I never ever take them for granted. I know that the doctors finding and destroying the extra pathway in my heart was a miracle. Many are diagnosed in autopsy.
   We are more in touch with that phrase, "Tell them you love them, you never know." at my house. We do not live under a dark cloud of fear. We do not allow it to take our peace at night. We do pull over and take a picture of a rainbow. We say what we mean. We know that everyone will get over it and move on if we tell the truth, no matter how unpleasant.  We also know that we have said "I love you" the last time we saw each other.
    Adjustments in my life have not been subtle. They have been more like a car being "adjusted" by a train at impact, but they have all been important. I do not begrudge you the dream of the "perfect" life, free from worries or the terror of "almost" losing a child. Hold on to your dream if it is really helping you.  If not, then focus on the "almost".  Meningitis, encephalitis and pertusis did not take my child from me. Spina bifida did not take away my ability to chase my children. Wolff Parkinson White did not take my life.  Each of these "adjustments" has made me who I am.
    
  

In the news!! Buy American!

   Hooray! It's making the news! The tides are shifting!  The morning news programs and I are beginning to showcase companies who have been manufacturing products right here in the U.S.A. and I am thrilled!  Not only are they showcasing the company efforts, they are also explaining how they have done it, dispelling the myths of the cost of U.S. labor.
   In one report, they stated that the American workers are much more efficient and accomplish more in a shift.
   The news is good for the U.S.  It cannot be good to ship goods to plants in China, pay Chinese workers to assemble them into a product we want and then ship them back to the United States. I mean good in the whole sense.
   It makes much more sense to actually use the extra shipping costs to benefit families right here in our own country. It makes much more sense to have the demand right here.
    I have lived overseas, not in China, but I can tell you that people around the world watch movies and television produced right here in the United States.  Movies are the most powerful marketing tool we have overseas.
    Let me explain. Let's say a movie comes out with a hot young actor. It's a movie about teenagers in the latest suspense and thrilling caper. Put that aside, the teenagers are eating Cheetos while plotting their next move.  At the end of the movie, the hero gives a bag of Cheetos to his heroine.  It sounds innocent and rather obvious right? Okay, so I am not into marketing right now. My point is, I was once the kid living overseas going to extreme lengths to purchase American products that I had seen in movies. It took four weeks to have a Levi denim jacket shipped to me from America after "Back to the Future" came out. You cannot imagine what I did to get American style tennis shoes.
    My point is that we have the tools and resources to flip the table. We can market, manufacture and sell to the entire global community. We have assets that can put our goods back in demand. We have the greatest in everything.  Twenty years ago, when I left England, they were building a McDonalds just 3 miles from my house. Nobody had grills in their back yards then, but I would guess that is a spreading trend now too. 
     Please let's make the most of what we have. Let's bring these jobs home, these products home. I do not want to go to any more 4th of July celebrations and be given a U.S. Flag to wave that has a "Made in China" sticker on it. That is insulting on the most basic level and we can do better. More importantly, we can take care of ourselves without borrowing money from China or any other country. We just need to make more thoughtful decisions. 
    For now, I will happily go out and purchase a Nordicware pan to try a new recipe. They are manufactured and shipped from right here in America.

What is important?

    I know when I was 17, the life I have now is not something I could have or would have appreciated. I saw my future going very differently. I had left my friends and the family I knew to move to a country that seemed to be filled with novelty. 
     My goals were simple. Get through college as quickly as possible so that I could be the millionaire-genius I was born to be. I know that sounds so funny if you know me now. 
    When I was a child, I was always the youngest kid in my class. I was told constantly that my test scores were "off the charts" and that I was very wise for my years.  Just so you know, if you are doing this, it is a recipe for disaster.
   Nobody had prepared me for failure. Classes were never difficult for me. My grades were completely within my control. I was never in a situation where I had tried, and worked and it didn't follow with success..
  Even my medical issues had always ended in success.  Big deal. I have spina bifoda and spent some time in a wheelchair. I was able to work my way through that to be stronger than ever. See? 
     The reason why I now laugh at my 17 year old goals is that my goals today could not be any different.  I have since experienced things that I could not control.  I have had things in my life that I could not "work" my way through.  Life is like that. Most people are fortunate enough to learn what to do with those events much earlier in life. I chose the pouting stubborn route.
    Yes, I did get an 'A' on my Physics final.  I was also able to do chemistry formulas inside outside and upside down.. But there were concepts in each class that were simply beyond my comprehension. 
     I have learned that being the "smartest" when taking a test means absolutely nothing in the real world. I know people who can barely read, cannot drive a car, or who simply have a great deal of cognitive difficulty that I admire much more. I have also learned that having high test scores by themselves hold absolutely no value for me. There is more to life than a number. Big deal. So you have an I.Q. of _____, now what are you going to do? Who will you love?
     Speaking of numbers, really once the basic necessities are met, money can just cause problems.  If the basic necessities are not met, money can be very important. When it stands between your children and food, that is when it matters, other than that, it really doesn't. The people who love me, do not know my income, or my home value. They simply care about me, not my wallet.
    Sooo.... many years ago I took a class on the value of intelligence tests.  It was a class I did not need but I somehow found myself there. I thought it would just be another certification to add to my portfolio, but it turned out to be so much more.
     The professor started out by asking, "How many of you know your I.Q. score?"  Several of us raised our hands.  "What if I told you the average I.Q. of prison inmates is between 80-95?"  I sucked in my breath.
    Here we go, I thought, we are going to have an elitist conversation... Ugh... I started to pack my pens and notebook. (Yes, this class was so long ago that I carried paper.)
     Then she said, "Imagine if your I.Q. was listed on your driver's licence.  Imagine that everywhere you go, you are judged by that number.  You can't do this because your IQ is too low.  Or, wow, your IQ is high, why haven't you done more?"
    OK, NOW she had my attention.  Every day, I had to write down clients I.Q.'s before I wrote out their plans, goals and assessments.  Once each month, clients were evaluated based on these plans with a graded system. They received either 'acheived', 'exceeded', 'working' or 'non-compliant'.  I had already found 'non-compliant' to be a nasty one. On paper, it appeared to indicate that a client, or lets just say person, was not participating or defiant.  In reality, it was often that a goal or plan was simply a mistake.  I had two clients with exactly the same I.Q.score.  One was able to read and fill their shopping basket with appropriate items from the grocery store. The other was not able to read, but could tell you how to plant corn, tomatoes, onions and many other vegetables in great detail.
    The plans and goals rarely included any farming. This client had been given a goal of grocery shopping for appropriate items with the ability to discern which of two identical products was cheaper.  Often, I would review his logs and see 'non-compliant'.  More than once I had to battle his psychiatrist about the sensibility of his plan. He was cooperative, well mannered, and kind, but on paper, he just appeared as 'non-compliant'.
    OK... so I am not throwing out the baby with the bathwater. Numbers and money have their place. We should remember what their place is.  It is impossible to assess a situation mearly with a spreadsheet, just as it is impossible to assess a humans life based on an I.Q. number.

    I think more than one person would notice if I disappeared. I believe that is what makes me a success.  I love and am loved. That is truly what this time is all about.
   With love, I can do much more than with a high I.Q.  With love, I can do much more than money can buy.  Most importantly, I tell people I love them.  Every one of us needs to feel loved. Every one of us can grow by loving another.
   I may not be Einstein or Leibniz, but I know what is important.

P.S.    (To be fair, I believe Albert Einstein knew also. I have read his works and he had genius thoughts about more than mear mathematics and physics.)

   

What has happened to prices?

        For years, I never gave a second thought to our bills. I just paid them and went on. I paid for the largest, most ridiculous cable bundle package even though I rarely watch T.V.  I bought the foods that looked most appealing at the grocery store and the personal products that were the latest and greatest.
      One of the things I noticed when I started to take a good look at things was that I never really paid any attention to anything. I immediately changed my cable package to something that was a better fit for our needs. I started to notice that some of the things I was paying for at the grocery store were simply empty promises.
      Marketing trends owned me.  I actually felt deprived the first time I purchased lotion that was less than $25 per bottle. Me?  I could care less about having a "name brand" lotion, but I did notice a feeling of something icky when I purchased the $4 lotion. What was it?  It was similar to failure, I guess.
    I soon learned that there were differences in lotion, some were thicker, some were sticky, some were just greasy. I did not find evidence that my $25 lotion was actually better than our current personal favorite.  I mourned the loss of $21 every time I had purchased the pricey lotion in the past. Ah well, time to move on. 
     The lotion was really the beginning of a very eye opening experience.  I noticed that there are always new products coming out. In a few months, sometimes those products simply vanished.  If they were so great, why didn't they stay? Ahh... here is one of the most tried and true.  Why is oatmeal still the same stuff in the same cardboard can?  It is just as fine as it was years ago. You can still use it for breakfast. You can still add things to it. You can still make cookies with it.  The big difference is, we add fresh fruit to ours, not some freeze dried fruit remnant.
     We also discovered that a razor with two blades shaves nicely. We do not need the third, fourth or who knows what else to shave. We discovered that sometimes the larger size is NOT cheaper, that brand name products may not be more expensive, and perhaps the most amazing trick is square footage of toilet paper and paper towels.
     When you actually check the square footage of paper products, it is amazing what stands out.  It's the whipped butter of the paper product aisle.  The first time I checked, I just stared in wonder. The package marked at $15.98 was indeed much larger looking. The package marked at $8.99 on the same shelf appeared smaller but had almost a third more toilet paper in it.  Puzzling, but I purchased the $8.99 package. 
     So you are wondering how in the world these details matter, right? Well, let me help you.  Three years ago, I was spending approximately $700 per month at the grocery store for our family. I quickly pared that down to approximately $300.  It took about a month to catch on to these trends.  Today, even with rising prices, I spend approximately $280 per month, including groceries, pet food, cleaning products and personal hygiene products.  Maybe you don't think this is a big deal. Maybe you do not think it is worth it. Maybe you don't see where this can help you.  Let me explain. I initially started to add the amount to my investments for retirement.  It made a BIG difference to my retirement accounts.
    Imagine if you could find a way to add $300 or more to your retirement plans? Or toward a larger home?  Would it be worth it to take a look at what is really important to you?  When you really take a moment to sit down and look where you spend your money, you might be surprised to find that it doesn't really add up with your priorities.  So many times I would say, "We cannot afford" something that I really felt was important.  Once I trimmed down on the excess, the things that I found important were easy.  I do not need the bright SUV with leather interior. I have something much more wonderful. I am not a slave to my car payment, my house payment, my credit cards or anything else. I can sleep peacefully knowing that it will take care of itself now that we are respectful of our own values.

They are my heart.

    Deep in my soul, I understand that my job as a mom is different. I understand that I am supposed to empower my daughters to walk towards their own, independent future.
    I'm very proud of my daughters. They are learning both life lessons and educational lessons with relative ease. I love to watch them discover the answers, and yet, I cry when we reach major milestones. I honestly could not tell you why. I don't know if I am overwhelmed by pride, or if I am mourning that I am one step closer to their independence from me, or if I am simply just a crybaby and never knew it.
    I do know that I am expecting the tears at the school program. My oldest child will no longer be an "elementary" student. We will cross yet another bridge. Together for now.
     I am grateful every day that even as it gets more challenging, my children still talk to me and ask me questions. This is a precious gift and an awesome responsibility. I know that it is my opinion and experience that they weigh against what they see.
    Someone once told me that children need us more when they are in these between years than they did as infants. I could not have imagined what they meant as infancy meant I was responsible for everything from nutrition, medication, toileting to speaking and singing and being cheerful enough.  It was exhausting and I looked forward to the time when they would not need those things so often.
   Now, as I watch my daughter and listen to her, I understand.  She is trying to take those steps from little girl to woman. I can see she is trying to find what works for her. As I have said before, it often appears she is "trying on" personalities.  I can see that she needs an anchor, a rock. She needs someone she can come to her to remind her of the focus and the guidelines of life. My daughter is very fortunate to have attended a wonderful school where she has been given many tools to walk through her life, but still she needs to see me using those same tools.  She needs me to reaffirm that they are real and that they work. I can see now why that need is there. Life presents challenges at very inopportune moments. Things happen that I may not have warned her about. I don't get to schedule when she learns each lesson. I have to hold her in my arms or in my heart as she walks through these challenges and reassure her that it will indeed become part of her experience someday.
      I understand as I watch her. I know that she has all of the tools we have shared with her. I know that she will use them. I know that she has a focus. I thank God every day for lending her to me. She has such a beautiful heart and mind and I know she has a wonderful future ahead of her. I continue to show her that she is able to form her own life. She will find that there are both positive and negative ways to handle each challenge in her path.
    I believe this might be why I cry.  It is pure sentiment. I love her. She is not mine to hold forever. It is really not about the potty training or the Christmas gifts. She is merely mine to guide and love for this very short time and I will continue to cherish every moment for as long as I can. The rest of the worldly wisdom will wait.
   Children are truly our hearts.