Diaries of an Older Mom

You Don't Have to Be a Scientist to Know the Weather is a Changin'

2011-09-13T18:31:00.000-07:00

It has been a hell of a hot summer in Texas. Today we broke our all time record of 70 days of over 100 degree temperatures. Our morning lows this summer were 85 degrees. We went beyond the occasional summer “heat advisory” to daily “heat warnings”. In the Dallas-Fort Worth area, where we have failed to meet EPA air quality standards since the 1980s, the ozone levels reach unhealthy levels. So if the heat doesn't kill you the ozone will.

The older I get, the more the Texas summers bother me. I ran necessary errands in the morning and then spent the rest of the day cocooning inside. When the day time high reached 108, it was even too hot for my daughter to go swimming (the asphalt around the pools would burn your feet and the water was like warm bathwater) or to the local amusement park. Needless to say, we spent a lot of the summer inside. Think about that, it is summer vacation, but it is too hot for children to play outside. We tried walking our dog at dusk, but the temperature was still 98, so we finally gave up.

Last week, as Tropical Storm Lee dropped over a foot of rain on Louisiana, it brought us a few days of cooler temperatures, but not a single drop of rain. Texas has received less than a 1/3 of its normal rainfall to date. The drought has drastically affected farmers and the cattle industry. The lakes have dropped significantly. We are now on twice a week watering rationing for our yards. Our water bill was higher than our electric bill last month trying to keep our yard from dying. The drought, dry heat, and wind has resulted in 3.6 million acres and thousands of homes lost to fire.

While Texas has experienced the hottest, driest weather on record, other parts of the country are experiencing flooding, hurricanes, and tornadoes. And let's not forget the record snow fall during the past few winters.

It kind of reminds me of the old joke I have heard several ministers tell over the years. The one about the man that falls over the side of a cliff. As he is hanging on for dear life, a hiker comes by and offers to pull him to safety. The man refuses because he says God will save him. Next someone in a boat offer assistance from below. Again the man refuses help because he says God will save him. And finally, a helicopter flies by and tries to assist the man. Once again he refuses help, because he is waiting on God to save him. The man eventually drops to his death. When he arrives in heaven he asks God why he didn't save him from falling from the cliff. God responds, “I sent you a hiker, a boat, and a helicopter and your refused them all!”

I have to wonder what it will take for us to fully and openly acknowledge climate change. When the earth disintegrates and we all perish will God say, “I sent you climate scientists, hurricanes, tornadoes, snow, droughts, fire and rain. What were you waiting for, the locusts?”

WHAT'S IN A NAME

2011-04-17T18:57:00.000-07:00

I spent a lot of time researching names when I was pregnant with my daughter. I wanted a name that wasn't too popular, but not too unusual. A solid, old-fashioned sort of name instead of something contemporary sounding. Growing up, I was always one of three Debbie's in my class. My mother told me once that she named me after the movie star Debbie Reynolds. I liked my name all right, I just didn't like always having to share it.

Every week prior to my daughter's birth, the newspaper would list the births from the local hospitals. I had narrowed my daughter's first name to two possibilities. My decision was made on the fact that Abigail was in the paper only once every couple of weeks, but the other name was listed twice each week. My choice gained popularity after my daughter's birth, but she is the only Abigail in her grade of 350 kiddos. She likes that. It makes her feel special.

I have been thinking about names once again. The genealogy bug has bitten me. I guess it's because of the ancestry.com commercials and that television series, “Who Do You Think You Are”. On the show, an important historical figure is revealed each week. Maybe only movie stars have someone important in their history. So far, all my relatives were farmers.

I wished though that I had taken the time to write down oral histories while my grandparents or my parents were still living. We just don't seem to possess the foresight when we are younger.

But I have revealed some interesting ancestral names. A great grandfather was named Elijah Andrew Jackson Ballard. That's a mouth full. He answered to Jack. A great, great, great grandfather was named Archibald McCoy Ardis. Maybe he went by Archie! And my grandmother, who I always knew as Rosa Lee actually changed her name in her teens. Even though she was named after her grandmother, the name “Jemima Clementine” was just too much for her it seems. Surely it wasn't common in the early 1900s for a woman to change her first and middle names. I must get my spunkiness from her!

I've decided it is human nature to shorten people's names or give them nicknames. I wish I had used my given name, Deborah. Sounds more professional, substantial. I remember the exact moment when I forever became a Debbie instead of a Deborah. It was my first day of school, ever. The teacher approached each student and wrote her name on a big piece of masking tape and then placed it on the kid's desk. As the teacher approached my desk, I quickly turned to the back of the class, where observing parents were sitting. I whispered to my mom, “Should I tell her Debbie or Deborah?” My mom left it up to me. I chose Debbie.

I tried in my early 30s to change to Deborah. I was starting a new job. Co-workers assumed I went by the name on my resume. The name plate for the office door was already ordered and nailed in place. Here was my chance to make the big switch. My new identity lasted all of one week before I requested they call me by my nickname. I had waited too long.

When Miss A was born, I must have subconsciously thought of my own history. From day one, we have only called our daughter by her given name. You can call her Abby, or you can call her Gail, but she only answers to Abigail.

BACK TO ROUTINE

2011-03-22T20:07:00.000-07:00

Spring break is officially over here. It was a relaxing week for my family. We spent two days at a lake retreat in the Big Thicket of Texas. My daughter and her friend had a great time fishing, horseback riding, going on a hayride, and feeding one of the resident alligators!

Claude they named the alligator. The first evening we freaked out, when the seven-foot creature swam up to cabin. We couldn't figure out why it just sat there, without moving, for twenty minutes. The last thing I thought about that night before falling asleep was that alligator. I wondered whether it was possible for the thing to leave the water and crawl up the steep embankment to our one-room cabin.

I later figured out, while reading the resort literature, that the gators are begging for food. There were several of them in the several small bodies of water on the property.

The next evening, we realized that “Claude's” presence had added to our fishing enjoyment. We hoped he would visit again. Like clockwork, the alligator worked his way down the line of cabins, hoping for a handout. He received a small fish from the boy staying in the cabin next to us. So when Claude made his way to us, we felt obligated to feed him this time around. The wieners left from our dinner were our best offering. We threw big size chunks toward his snout. The alligator kept trying to turn his mouth sideways to retrieve a chunk of Oscar Meyer, but the water was too shallow.

What a difference a day makes. One evening we are screaming in fear and the next we are feeling sorry for Claude because he can't retrieve the wieners. After much effort and very little reward, he finally gave up and swam off to the next cabin.

Unlike our four bedroom house, a one-room cabin promotes togetherness. I enjoyed interacting with my daughter in this outdoor setting. She is an independent teenager, who can spend hours making stop motion and animated videos to post on YouTube. She wants to be an animator and work for Pixar some day. I don't doubt her ability to do so.

We arrived home in late afternoon. We immediately began doing our own thing. I was busy unpacking and tackling the laundry. Our daughter went to her room to begin creating a video of Claude. She talked her father into bringing her a sandwich for supper. Around 9:30 PM, I went into her room to say goodnight. Without prompting, Miss A. had finished her video, bathed, read in bed, and gone to sleep. For almost five hours, she had done her own thing alone.

It is nice when one's child reaches an age that they can complete grooming and other daily obligations without needing to be prompted. And there's something to be said for the comfortableness of routine. But if growing up means living independently from one another, in the same house, maybe it's time for a smaller house. Because this mother needs a goodnight kiss.

SUPER BOWL SNOW

2011-02-06T16:24:00.000-08:00

Well, I sit in the heart of the world's most publicized football game. Here in Arlington, Texas the local news has talked about nothing else for several weeks. That is until an ice storm hit the area last week, followed by six inches of snow. One hundred hours below freezing is a record in this area of the country. Schools were out for four straight days. Another rarity.

It was so cold here, that the Texas power grid couldn't provide enough electricity. The electric company announced there would be rolling blackouts. One school system, just east of Dallas, tried to hold classes on the third day. One hour after school started the power was shut off. After two hours in the cold and the dark, students were dismissed. I guess no one informed the town that schools would be part of the rolling blackouts.

The hotels where players from both teams were staying were exempt from the rolling blackouts. Cowboy stadium, or as we like to call it here, Jerry's Palace, was also exempt from any electric blackouts. Even if you are a football fanatic, you have to admit that priorities are just a little misguided.

Local news as well as ESPN, tried all week to broadcast outside. It was amusing to flip the television over to ESPN to see Hannah Storm blowing frigid air. Even borrowed snow plows from Amarillo wasn't enough to clear all the dangerous ice from the maze of highways in the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex.

Well, the sun finally came out on Saturday. Fans began to fill the empty entertainment venues. Vendors with their overstocked Super Bowl memorabilia finally began to sell their trinkets. All was not lost.

My church is one mile from the world's largest stadium. As we approach the church we can see the place on the hill. It looks like a gigantic UFO has landed. To insure parishioners could worship and not be caught up in mass traffic jams, only one early service was held today instead of the usual four services. With the possibility of us meeting craziness while just trying to go to worship, I was willing to sit this week out. But after four days of cabin fever, I was going to church “come hell or high water!”

The misguided residents of Arlington approved the corporate welfare that assisted Jerry Jones in building his palace. The mayor and Mr. Jones have tried their darnest to inform the nation that the world's largest stadium is in Arlington and not Dallas. Arlington is a city of 400,000 people between Dallas and Fort Worth. We have no mass transit.

Unfortunately, with no new large hotels or large entertainment venues, most Super Bowl visitors spent their thick bankrolls in Dallas and Fort Worth. And the every day Joe, who voted for the building of the stadium, can't afford to enter the parking lot, much less attend a professional football game.

There is one positive to all this winter weather here. More snow is predicted this evening. It should hit around the time 100,000 people exit Cowboy Stadium. If massive traffic jams result, maybe the NFL will demand we provide mass transit before we try to host again!

I guess I'll go watch some. I hear the commercials are good!

Our President Follows the Golden Rule

2010-11-04T17:40:00.000-07:00

I watched the press this week repeatedly hammer President Obama for not showing more fight during his speech after the democratic loss of the U.S House during the mid-term elections. I am guilty myself for yelling at the television on numerous occasions questioning why Obama continues to reach across the aisle to find consensus only to have his hand slapped.

From a very early age, I have tried to teach my daughter to play nice and to be honest. I have told her that if you work hard, your good work will be rewarded, but it is not polite to brag. I have tried to teach her not to worry about those who don't live by these rules because we all ultimately reap what we sow. To practice the Golden Rule even with those who don't. My religious upbringing has helped shaped these beliefs.

Robert Fulghum, in his bestseller, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten stated it clearly for me – play fair, don't take things that aren't yours, don't hit people, share things, and when you go out into the world, hold hands and stick together.

If dawned on me this morning the irony of the situation with President Obama. For two years, his faith has been repeatedly questioned by many. Yet, it is precisely his faith that motivates him to keep reaching out to those who oppose him. He believes that if he just continues to work hard and engages in honest civil debate, that he can find common ground with those who oppose him.

Unfortunately, Congress has forgotten what they learned in kindergarten and in the world of politics, there is no such thing as the golden rule. And if President Obama wants a second term, he better start bragging.

Surviving Junior High Registration

2010-08-23T18:01:00.001-07:00

Today is the first day of junior high for my daughter. She finally admitted this weekend that she was anxious about today. I didn't let her know that I was also anxious.

Last week, while I was overwhelmed during the registration process, she seemed cool as a cucumber. It took two hours and standing in 14 (seriously) different lines to complete the process. I thought we were there to just pick up a schedule. I don't know if I was more flustered or angry. Back in 1968, when I entered seventh grade, we were given our schedules the first day of school in our home room.
This year's process and lines went like this:

provide proof of residency
pick up packet of forms
complete a boat load of forms
turn in forms
enter email in computer for newsletter
notarize insurance information
provide proof of immunizations with the nurse
pick up schedule
pick up map
purchase planner $5
purchase P.E. uniform $20
pay for P.E. towel service $24
pay for orchestra fees $60
join PTA and purchase school t-shirt (this stop was optional) $17

After two hours and $126 later, I was worn out. My spouse had to return to the school later with my daughter to find her locker and to locate her classes.

Could administrators make the process any more tedious? I don't recall standing in this many lines to register for college. And my hand was cramping from completing so many forms and writing numerous checks. As I paid for the P.E. uniform, I asked the teacher about the towel service fee. She pointed to the person sitting in the chair next to her, “You have to stand in that line to pay that fee!” I was told that the high school process is worse and more costly. Oh, how exciting.

I kept thinking about families with multiple children who might not be financially able to buy school supplies, much less pay for fees at school. When did it become necessary for some to take out a loan to register their children in public school?

My daughter is bright and capable. Hopefully, she will do fine today. And since she brought her lunch, maybe she won't have to stand in any more lines!

Has Women's Dress Become Too Casual?

2010-07-24T11:17:00.000-07:00

There has been a lot of talk lately about women and fashion. And the talk seems to go from one extreme to the other. First it was Michelle Obama's bare arms in the official White House portrait. Six months later, all the national female anchors who reported on the issue, are wearing sleeveless dresses. But unlike the first lady's classic black dress with pearls, female anchors frequently look like they are on their way to a cocktail party. I can do without a serving of cleavage with my news. And let's not forget Hannah Storm's 60's go-go outfit that got a lot of buzz.

How about Venus Williams' risqué outfit during the French Open. A wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen. The Williams sisters are attention-getters. But, do they want to be remembered for their tennis playing or their tacky on-court garb?

And speaking of sports, we all know why beach volleyball became a popular Olympic sport. Could the women wear any skimpier bathing suits? Why are long shorts workable for the men but not the women players? I keep wondering how they keep those bikini bottoms in place.

On the other extreme, Supreme Court nominee Elena Kagan was labeled as looking “frumpy” when she appeared to accept her nomination at the White House. As a no-nonsense, hard-working lawyer, I'm sure making it on the cover of a fashion magazine is not her life goal. But, I guess it is important for our female justices to have on snazzy outfits underneath those black floor-length robes.

I know what women wear has always been a hot topic. And I am glad the days of “dressing for success”, looking like a man in over-tailored suits with broad padded shoulders and neck ties, has fallen by the wayside. But with the basic suit, men have found a way to insure the focus is on the work at hand and not length of the skirt, the cut of the shirt and the height of the heels.

As a stay-at-home mom, my dress is casual and comfortable. I have no need for expensive clothes. But I don't meet the public everyday and I certainly am not on national television. It seems to me “anything goes” is now acceptable for women's dress, while they are working and not men?

I think Matt Lauer, on the Today Show, is an impeccable dresser. A few weeks ago, Meredith Vieira, while dressed in a skirt and a blouse, with a long shirttail hanging out, poked fun of Matt's shoes. She looked like she was on her way to getting undressed and she was making fun of Matt's style. What if he wanted to come to work in a plaid shirt and a pair of dockers every day?

As women, do we speak out of both sides of our mouth? Can we demand to be taken seriously when we dress look like we should be standing on a street corner? Can we be angry at men for staring at our breasts when we show so much of them?

My daughter will be a teen this year. I hope I am successfully teaching her that there is an appropriate outfit for every occasion. No, flip flops don't go with every outfit. Fur-lined winter boots do not go with short shorts. Bras are called undergarments for a reason. A little cleavage is fine at the beach, but not for a job interview. And of course, the old stand-by of our grandmothers, no white shoes after Labor Day or before Easter!

A Washington D.C. Experience

2010-07-10T19:54:00.001-07:00

We have just returned from our vacation in our nation's capital. My daughter is twelve, so we thought it was a good time to visit Washington D.C. Five days of walking and I am exhausted.

Arriving mid-day, we were raring to go. We cranked out two Smithsonian museums, Air and Space and the Natural History museum, the first afternoon. By the end of our stay, we had visited even the Hirshhorn modern art museum.

Despite being in our nation's capital over the Fourth of July weekend, the next day proved to be the most memorable day of our trip. In the morning, we got an early start because we had tickets to tour the White House. These tickets are hard to get. It is recommended one request tour tickets from your senator or representative up to six months in advance. Since we were a couple months behind in our planning, I made requests to both senators and our representative. Just wanted to cover all bases, you know. Senator Kay Bailey Hutchinson came through for us.

I had read that if the President was in residence, the U.S. flag would be raised at the White House. All flags in the city were at half-mast in respect to Senator Robert Byrd's passing, so I was unsure if the President was home. As we were going through clearance, Marine One, the presidential helicopter flew over us and landed on the White House lawn. I asked a guard if that meant the President was home and he replied, “Until he gets on that helicopter, he is.” Once through clearance, we ran to the walkway just outside the east entrance. We joined several families all leaning over shrubs hoping to get a glimpse of the President. And we would have, if a secret service guy, dressed in black, with all kinds of guns and scopes around his neck, hadn't come out of nowhere and told us to move on. We were forced to enter the White House! Tareq and Michaele Salahi, eat your heart out.

Once inside the east wing, hallways were lined with other visitors waiting to see the President's exit. We kept rushing from window to window, hoping to see over several heads in front. As the helicopter's blades began to circle, I caught a glimpse, for a split second. And in that moment, the President, having stopped to wave, turned to walk up the steps of the helicopter and I SAW THE BACK OF THE PRESIDENT'S HEAD!

After all the excitement, the tour was anti-climactic. We saw the red room, the blue room, the green room and the state dining room. But I saw the back of the President's head and my daughter moped for an hour because she did not.

An easier tour to arrange through your elected officials, is the U.S. Capital. We received tour times from all three of our members of congress. The senators sent the specific reservation ticket, however, Joe Barton, our representative, instructed us to arrive at his congressional office. I suspected that this would be a more personal tour, led by one of his aides, so since the timing worked well, we spent the afternoon on Capital Hill.

At the appointed time, we worked our way to the Rep. Barton's office in one of the three adjacent House of Representatives office buildings. The aides were all in Barton's small outer office chatting. Being the Friday, before the July 4 weekend, I suspect they were killing time until the week was over. And they were probably recovering from putting out fires from their boss's recent comment regarding the White House's “shakedown” of BP.

As a Democrat, in the conservative state of Texas, I felt a little strange requesting favors from Republican members of congress, but what choice did I have?

When we identified ourselves and stated we were there for the 2:00 PM tour of the Capital, the aide behind the desk jumped to his feet.

Aide: We tried to call you yesterday. We had to move the tour to 10 AM this morning.

Me: Oh, we were already in Washington yesterday.

Aide: Well, someone answered the phone at your home and hung up on us.

Me: That was my brother. He is house sitting while we are gone.

Aide: We called back a second time, but before we could state why we were calling, he yelled at me and told me never to call again. So, I sent you an email.

How do I explain, that as a yellow dog Democrat, my hard-of-hearing brother, probably thought Joe Barton's office was calling to solicit campaign funds. I just chuckled. The aide graciously agreed to get us tickets to tour the Capital even though we had missed the private tour.

Another aide, walked us through the maze of underground hallways from the Rayburn House Office Building to the Capital's underground entrance. For a few minutes we felt important as we wore a special badge on our shirts. But the tour of the Capital is so restricted and the crowds so great, that the highlight was the ordeal getting inside! My only regret was not asking the young aide if he was dealing with any more shakedowns!

I called my brother that evening from the hotel. “If Senator Kay Bailey Hutchinson calls, please be nice, okay!”

Paying to Supervise

2010-06-25T17:13:00.000-07:00

It's summer. My daughter wants to go to a local water park. I would rather have a cavity filled at the dentist. As a fair-skinned, older than average, plus-size mom, spending the day at an expensive water park is not on the top of my list. It's not even on the top ten!

Climbing stairs, several stories high to slide down a slide, is painful for my arthritic knees. Now the lazy river is okay. But how many times would I have to go around the ¼ mile river, to get my $23.99 monies worth? And as skin cancer-fearing pale people, two hours in the sun is about our limit before the burn sets in.

This reminds me of a thought I first had when my husband and I first took our daughter as a kindergärtner to the Six Flags amusement park. We spent a couple of hours in the kiddie section of the park and then spent the rest of the time walking the entire park looking for a ride that might be tame enough for a five-year-old. We didn't find any.

The idea is this. Why do moms have to pay full price to enter an entertainment venue, when we plan to spend most of the time merely watching and supervising our children.

When women rule the world, I hope we consider a tiered entrance price for moms, dads, grandparents, etc. Discounted entrants would enjoy limited venues or rides, while full priced entrants would receive an additional stamp or bracelet giving the participants full access to all the venues.

I know in the men's business model, where profit is always the bottom line, this suggestion wouldn't be given a second thought. But if moms were charged less, they might take their child to the expensive water park more than once a summer.

I just hope we arrive early enough to get an umbrella with some shade!

The End of Elementary

2010-06-11T09:19:00.000-07:00

The last month has been very emotional for me. My daughter graduated, last week, from elementary school. Every time I think about her progression during the last few years, I need to grab a Kleenex. Just her physical transformation this year alone was incredible. I know, it's called puberty.

My daughter showed no sorrow at the ending of a milestone in her life. As we walked away from school, she waved her hand at the building, said “bye” and never looked back.

As much as I don't want to admit it, my twelve year old is ready for more freedom and responsibility. As a sixth grader, she will not miss eating in the cafeteria with kindergartners, despite how cute they are!

When my daughter was six, I ate lunch with her once a week at school. I would see a sixth grader in the hall and think “those kids are way too big to be in the same school with my child.” During the years, eating lunch with Miss A. became less frequent. By fourth grade, the request was to bring the fast-food lunch, drop it off, and leave.

This year, I dropped off lunch only a handful of times. But my thought now was “those kindergartners are too little to be in the same school as my child!” Funny, how one's perspective changes with time.

I think I am getting a taste of how mothers feel when they are empty-nesters. Time goes just too fast. One minute you are teaching them how to hold a spoon and the next you are asking them to clean their room before they leave for camp for the week.

Maybe as we get older we become more sentimental. Or maybe it is just very comforting to drop one's child off at the same school building for six years. You know the lay of the land, you know most of the teachers, and you know how to drop off and pick up your child in the most efficient way.

As the homeroom moms were being thanked during the graduation ceremony, the speaker stated that there are no homeroom moms in middle school. Ahh, thank goodness. On second thought, maybe the orchestra booster club could use some volunteers!

Abundance of Food

2010-05-30T14:47:00.000-07:00

It's that time of year, when fresh fruit and vegetables are plentiful. Between two grocery stops last week, I had more in the refrigerator than a family of three possibly needs. I like having options when I go to the kitchen to figure out what's for supper, but I also don't like wasting food. I try to be creative and use up what I have before it wastes. I think that is a hold-over from growing up poor.

I have childhood memories of fighting over who would get the two white meat pieces of the fried chicken or the two cherry halves in the can of fruit cocktail. But even if we ate our share of Vienna sausages, potted meat, and mayonnaise sandwiches (Miracle Whip actually), I have no memories of going hungry.

I quickly cut up a ripe fresh pineapple the other day. Although wonderfully sweet, I could tell that it had reached it's peak and instructed my hubby and daughter to eat as much as they could. The next day, the fruit was brown. I threw half of the pineapple down the disposal.

Then during my daily ritual of reading the day's news via the internet, I read this story about the return of drought and starvation in Niger. I tried to imagine a life where nomad people are still trying to meet the first level of what Maslow identified as the hierarchy of needs – food and water. I thought about the wasted pineapple.

Oh, to be always mindful of what we have and to not consume more than what we need.

Is Selecting a Family Vacation Site a Family Decision?

2010-04-27T20:23:00.000-07:00

I am knee deep in vacation information. I find the whole vacation planning exercise a little exciting and a lot overwhelming. Usually I am working on summer plans by February, so I feel I am a little behind the eight ball. But since we decided not to relocate this summer to Tennessee, an annual summer vacation is back in the works.

This year, we seem to be at odds as to where to vacation. Our daughter, who is now twelve, wants to have a say in the decision. But, should children get a “vote” in family vacation planning?

My husband and I both come from families who took at least two week vacations each summer driving all over the nation. Families don't vacation like they used to. We are taking several shorter trips during the year instead of one long trip. That's a shame, since experts believe it takes at least a full week before one's body truly begins to relax. I can't imagine what a two-week vacation would feel like.

My husband and I would like to visit Washington D.C. (Oops, I read that locals refer to our nation's capital only as “D.C.”). We thought this summer would be an excellent time to go since it correlates with my daughter's 6th grade social studies curriculum. Miss “A” wants to go to Disney World or to Seaside, Florida. We have been to Disney twice and Seaside once before.

As far as I'm concerned, Disney is out of the question. I would prefer to go during the school year breaks, when the crowds are not so huge. Seaside, on the other hand, is a great planned beach community. Once you arrive, you can park your car and never move it because everything you need and want is within a five minute walking distance. But we would have to drive to offset the expensive cabin rental.

Here's the thing. If we give in and select one of her suggestions, are we giving her the idea that she can forever choose our family vacation destinations? My daughter, like her restaurant and food choices, would always stick with what she knows. Which would be a three-year rotating cycle of Disney World, the beach, and Sea World.

As an only child, I'm afraid that she would prefer to vacation with someone other than her parents. If we go on a relaxing beach trip, we would probably need to take a friend. However, there is so much to see in D.C. (noticed how I said that?) that paying for a friend would not be necessary. AND WE COULD USE FREQUENT FLYER MILES TO PAY FOR TWO OF THE AIRLINE TICKETS!

That settles it. If we are in D.C. On July 4, maybe she will get psyched about the fireworks!

Letter to Abigail

2010-03-23T17:54:00.000-07:00

I belonged to a book club for several years. Each month, the assigned host, would select the next book. One month, Maya Angelo's book, Letter to My Daughter was selected. It was also suggested that we take the time to write our own words of wisdom to our daughter or son. Here were mine:

Don't be so hard on yourself. When you are 50, you will realize the body you had at 25 wasn't so bad.
Your word should be golden. If you really don't want to do something, just say NO.
Do a few things well, rather than a lot of things half-ass.
Appreciate what you have. Learn to differentiate between what you want and what you need.
Nothing is black or white. Look for shades of gray.
If you have a child at 40, you will be going through menopause while the child begins the teenage years. You will have more wisdom, but less energy.
Be true to yourself; stand up for your convictions even though it won't earn you a popularity contest.
Fight for injustice and truth. Don't wait for someone else to do so, because they won't.
Vote
Understand what feminism has done for you as a female and embrace it.
Give yourself permission to have fun; don't take yourself too seriously.
Live within your means. Stuff won't make you happy.
Charity is an act of giving to those less fortunate, not a town where the poor live.
If in doubt, don't.
Be assertive, but not aggressive. It is often just a fine line between the two.
There is no weakness in admitting you are wrong.
It can take only a moment to do something you will regret a lifetime. Please think about this when you want a tattoo.

AND AS PASSED ON FROM YOUR GRANDMOTHER:

No white shoes after Labor Day or before Easter.
It's just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as it is a poor man.
Wash bed linens in hot water to kill the dust mites.

Cookie Sales

2010-01-22T18:06:00.000-08:00

It's Girl Scout cookie time again! I like Thin Mints as well as the next person, but when did Girl Scout cookie sales become a business entity unto itself? Last year, my daughter joined Girl Scouts for the first time. She had been involved with a YMCA Father-Daughter program for the last several years. I thought Girl Scouts would provide a nice alternative for her.

We attended the recruitment event in the fall. She was placed in an established troop. Coordinators raved about how active this troop was and how involved the leader was with the GS organization. That sounded great because I had no desire to be a troop leader. A dozen ten and eleven year olds at a slumber party, no thanks!

The fall meetings came and went uneventfully. But at the December holiday gathering, my supportive but elusive position came to a quick ending. A parent meeting was held while the children partied. Two hours to provide information about cookie sales. The troop's cookie sale coordinator announced that the goal was for each child to sell 600 boxes of cookies! Dozens of “tabletop” times and locations had been set and were waiting for the parents to sign-up.

My first question was “What's a tabletop?” I was told two parents and two children would set up a table outside businesses to sell cookies during four-hour time periods. Oh, and remember to bring blankets and heavy coats, because this time of the year can be cold! I signed up for only two slots.

The GS cookie sale brochure discusses the skills girls learn in the process: communication, leadership, goal setting, money management, planning, and teamwork. I was thinking, if this is a time where girls take the lead, why am I in the meeting while my daughter was in the next room having a gift exchange!

I was a girl scout in the fifth grade. I remember going all over the neighborhood, by myself, trying to sell cookies. I was so proud of myself for selling 25 boxes. And I took orders for the cookies, requiring me to go to each house twice. As I look back, I can't believe my parents allowed me to sell cookies by myself. But the initiative to sell was all mine.

The coordinator's emails concerning cookie sales were overwhelming. Apparently the two-hour planning meeting had not been sufficient in explaining the process. The effort required to complete a “tabletop” would be a pain. I was dreading the experience.

Then a conflict arose. My daughter wanted to do an alternative activity with her cousin instead of the tabletop. My menopausal self emerged. If I don't want to do this and my child doesn't want to do this, why are we doing it! Maybe it was time to quit Girl Scouts.

The leader quickly gave me a way out. Girl Scout cookie sales are not required. We could sell just individual sales on our own or nothing at all. I reconsidered. Okay, no tabletops, but maybe we could sell 50 boxes. That would provide my daughter two patches.

We hauled those 50 boxes to that alternative event - The Fort Worth Stock Show parade. We sold 35 boxes! The rest were sold to neighbors on our immediate block. One week into the process and our cookie sales were DONE!

Selling 600 boxes of cookies provides a girl a week of summer camp. A week that many would not be able to afford otherwise. That's a good thing. However, taking your daughter out of school so she can sell cookies outside the bank all day, is over the top. Is there nothing we do as a society that we don't take to the extreme?

Let It Snow

2009-12-02T19:13:00.001-08:00

There was some excitement in our house this morning. There was no urging my daughter to get out of bed and get dressed. In fact, everyone in the household was moving through their morning routines with a little pep in their step. Why? Because there were snow flurries!

You see, in Texas, we don't get much snow. In fact, my 12-year-old was quick to remind us that she was in third grade the last time it snowed. Because of some freak in nature, it snowed once every year for the first six years of her life. Now, bless her heart, she expects the white stuff every year. I hesitate to inform her when there is even the possibility of snow in the weather forecast. I don't want her to be disappointed.

Equipped with her heavy coat, boots (worn once last year), mittens, and holiday apparel, my daughter was ready for her school day. One in which she hoped the teacher would let the students out of class to “play” in the snow. I tried to explain to her that with the temperature at 42 degrees, there would be no accumulation.

“Are there windows in your classrooms?” I asked. “This snow will be enjoyed by looking out the window.”

“Not in my first class, but there are windows in the other class periods” she replied.

Oh, no, I thought, the snow will have stopped by then. At 9:00 AM, the beautiful flakes had begun to stop. One hour and 20 minutes of snowfall. I hope she enjoyed the scenery on the way to school. At least, she got to wear her boots!

A Place Called Charity

2009-11-20T17:32:00.001-08:00

I went to the drug store last week to pick up a single item. The plan was to get in and out quickly before I picked up my daughter from school. I was a slightly taken aback when I was confronted by a Salvation Army holiday ringer. Already? It was seven weeks before Christmas.

This isn't a popular thing to say but, I don't like the Salvation Army's annual fund raiser. I have always been somewhat annoyed by the constant ringing and "God bless yous" during the Christmas season. But it wasn't until this year's early interaction with the annual fund raiser, that I realized that I am actually resentful of the event.

Between now and December 24, one cannot enter any grocery store, department store, home improvements store, or any big box store without feeling a little guilty for not dropping at least one's pocket change into the red kettle. I wonder how many times the average person passes a ringer during a season? Fifty, one hundred times? At a dollar a pop, that's not pocket change.

When volunteers are not available, temporary workers are employed. I sometimes get the impression that the ringers are more in need of a donation than the organization they are working for. Last year I followed a suggestion from a sibling and donated money directly to the ringer. I told him I wanted to buy his lunch.

The Salvation Army's 2009 Red Kettle Christmas Campaign officially kicks off November 20. It is the oldest annual charitable fund raiser of its kind in the United States. This year's goal is $120,000,000. That's a lot of loose change. This multi-billion charitable organization, is one of the world's largest provider of social aid. I don't doubt that they do a lot of good.

But what if the American Red Cross or the Children's Defense Fund or Habitat for Humanity wanted to set up donation tables during Christmas? Where is it written that the Salvation Army has the monopoly during December?

As Americans, we give more than any other country in the world to charitable organizations. Last year, Americans generously gave over 300 billion. Non-profits, like the Salvation Army, are not required to report their ledger sheets to the Internal Revenue Service.

Charity Navigator, founded in 2001, is now the largest and most utilized evaluator of charities. However, Charity Navigator cannot evaluate the financial health of one-third of U.S. charities because these organizations do not provide financial data to the IRS. In 2008, that equated to $100 billion of charitable donations! In our current economy, I want to know if my family's hard-earned donations are being spent wisely.

At the holiday season, we always retrieve angels from the “giving tree” at church to provide needed clothing and toys for a local charity. During the year we purchase food for the church food pantry. Every month, the children's Sunday school classes designate a different mission project for charity. So I, too, consider my family charitable.

But we make conscious decisions about how and when we donate to the organizations that we support. I want to give freely and with an open heart, not because someone is prodding me every time I run in the grocery store for a head of lettuce.

I am reminded of a conversation last December. Over the years, my daughter has frequently heard me say, “These items are going to charity for those in need.” On the way to school, she asks, “Mom, where exactly is this place called Charity that we send items?!”

No, child, “charity” is not the name of a town. But it does come in many forms, not just in the shape of a little red kettle.

Cotillion

2009-10-29T17:53:00.001-07:00

KO-'TIL-YEN: To ensemble a group of young people to develop, appreciate, and respect their role in society through dance and social skills education.

I had no idea what a "cotillion" class was the first time I overhead several parents discussing the subject several years ago. When you are raised poor, paying for the acquisition of social skills is a little out of the question! After I figured out what cotillion meant, I learned that in our town many sixth-graders attend this social class at the locally famous Miss Persis Studio of Dance! Miss Persis knows her stuff. She has been at it for 55 years.

So, sure enough, as my daughter prepared for her sixth-grade year, a letter arrived from the studio. I tried to explain to Abigail, as best I knew, what the class was about. She wasn't too sure. As a child of two introverted parents, learning a little social grace sounded like a good idea to me. I enrolled my daughter.

As the time of the first class approached, I reread the class requirements. A strict dress code is required. Boys must wear shirts and ties and girls must wear dresses or skirts. This is going to fun. As I've mentioned before, my daughter is not girly. Trying to get her in a dress wasn't going to be easy.

I pulled a skirt and sweater from her closet along with a pair of Mary Jane shoes. All the while, Abigail is asking me about the class. She is positive that no one from her school will be there. My gut told me otherwise. The next struggle was trying to convince her to let me curl her hair a little.

From the moment we arrived, it was obvious that the only skirt in the room would be on my daughter. I felt like we were at a mini prom. Abigail was WAY underdressed. Fortunately, she isn't too attuned to fashion much less cotillion fashion!

At the end of the 90-minute class, the curtains were opened for the parents to watch. We were all gawking like we were watching the monkeys perform at the zoo. Half of the 100 kids in this course section were from my daughter's school.

I kept trying to read my daughter's facial expression. Was she having a good time or was she hating every minute of it? As they exited the studio paired with their partner, I held my breath.

Before we stepped away from the gathered crowd, Abigail excitedly spoke. "I wish Cotillion was every week. Did you see sew 'n sew? I hope I get to dance with him next time!"

Well, the second class came around. Abigail eagerly put on her new dress (from the 75% off sale rack), black dress shoes (kids resale shop), and panty hose. I wondered if she was too dressed up this time. Nope!

If the girls are wearing satin for a regular class, I can't wait to see what they wear for the final "Spring Fling" class. I better keep scavenging those sale racks!

Choosing Your Battles

2009-09-18T16:22:00.000-07:00

I am outspoken. I am not sure when I found my voice. But as an adult, I am quick to offer an opinion, often when I should just keep my mouth shut.

Growing up, I was one of those kind of kids that knew the answer at school but was afraid to speak up in fear that it would be wrong. My preferred place in the classroom was in the second seat on an outside row. Close enough to keep up with what was going on, but not too exposed like a seat front and center.

I remember a conversation in graduate school with a couple of male classmates. They told me that I was too meek; that in the “real world”, I was going to get stepped on. Looking back now, I wonder that if their assessment was right then when did the current “me” emerge.

What will get me going more than anything is a perceived injustice. My 11-year-old knows this about me. Now any time I voice an opinion, about any situation, her response is always the same. “Mom, you need to write somebody about this!”

My daughter and I have had several conversations lately about “choosing your battles.” She doesn't grasp that taking a stand on an issue can be time consuming, emotionally draining and often unpopular. But I am trying to teach her that there are times when one must take a stand on an issue, no matter how difficult.

One of those times occurred recently for me. Our city made national news as one of the school districts that decided not to show President Obama's education speech live. A few days later it was revealed that the district had planned a fifth grade field trip to the new Cowboy's football stadium to hear former President Bush. I was livid. I wrote the school superintendent, the school board, the school principal, and the local newspaper.

Texas has a history of low test scores, high dropout rates, and high teen pregnancies. A pep talk on the importance of education is just what our children needed. But apparently the district thought it was more appropriate to tour Jerry Jones' new palace.

The superintendent rethought the inconsistencies of the decision regarding these two events. Apparently I wasn't the only one who voiced a concern. Unfortunately, the children are the ones who lost out in both instances. But there are consequences to poor decision-making.

A friend recently recalled a heated conversation among a group of woman at a social event. She said, “It was as if these women were all desperate to have their voices heard.” I think she hit the nail on the head. So many of us spend the first part of our lives being the “nice girl.” But then middle age hits and watch out sister.

Sometimes I too, just want to be heard. But I hope there are more times that I am standing up for what I believe is an important issue. Regardless, I don't think anyone, including my former classmates, would ever use the word “meek” to describe me now!

RIGHT THE FIRST TIME

2009-08-26T19:30:00.000-07:00

Doesn't anybody do things right the first time anymore? Do we not teach children to take pride in their work? What was all that talk a while back about striving for excellence?

As a stay-at-home mom, I spend what seems like an inordinate amount of time monitoring follow up repairs on services rendered. I really don't see how working moms do it. It can be a full-time job.

I spent the entire summer trying to get things fixed around here. First, our 18-month mini-van starting making weird noises. We took the car to our regular mechanic, who suspected it was something major. Since the van was under warranty, he sent us back to the dealership. First trip, we were told that just a bolt was loose. Next day, noise switched to other side. Second try and a week later, we drove out of the place with a new front axle! Now the van drives like an old pick-up.

Once we got the van repaired, we took off on a 1,000 mile road trip. A rock flew off the truck in front of us on the interstate and cracked the windshield. We didn't see the crack until we returned home. A few days of the 100 degree Texas heat and the crack began to spread. Windshields can be replaced in your own driveway. How convenient!

First the wipers had been set too high. Second service call, adjust the wiper bolts. Next, they lost our check. I stopped payment at the bank. Company found the check in a trash can. Third service call, to issue new check minus the stop payment charge at the bank. Washed car, windshield leaking – fourth service call. I will have their phone number handy the next time it rains or I wash the car.

Next, the hot water heater was leaking. The 1979 model served us well. I called a plumber recommended by a trusted neighbor. Ch-ching. Replacement costs $750. Three days later, standing water again. Luckily the heater is in the garage and only the cement was soaked twice. Mold on the walls doesn't matter if it's in the garage, does it? Verdict - failed to tighten bolts correctly. What is it with this bolt thing?

There is one recent repair that only took one service call. The sprinkler system pipes broke underground. Half the front yard was flooded. It took most of a weekend to find the leak, dig the hole, repair the pipe, and refill the hole. But, no need for follow-up because the repair was done right the first time – by my husband!

We recently paid off our mortgage. What are we going to do with the extra money – pay for repairs! School is back in session. All is quiet, for now. You can reach me at home waiting for the next crisis.

Too Many Pictures?

2009-08-08T09:24:00.000-07:00

I received a digital picture frame for my birthday. I spent an entire weekend selecting photos for the frame. I first went through all our digital photos that we have saved, then I went through every photo album in the house.

My parents were never very good at placing photos in albums. Instead we had several large boxes that held a lifetime of pictures. Holidays pictures, vacations, family events, etc. were all mixed up together. After both my parents died, I ended up with the responsibility of dividing the pictures between my siblings. I took the liberty of throwing away many; some of people no one knew, others that the subject was too far away, and still others that were simply bad pictures. My parents never threw away a picture.

As a result of that experience, as a new mom I diligently marked date and subject on the back of every photos. I successfully placed my daughter's pictures in albums on a regular basis. That is until we got our first digital camera. For the last few years, we have been more selective about which pictures we actually process. Most are just downloaded from the camera and stored on our computer.

I am not a big scrapbooker. But every summer, scrapbook materials take over the dining room table for a month or two. I create pages for my daughter's previous year in school. My unmet goal for the last couple of years is to create a Christmas album and a cousins' album.

But as I looked through every image we own, I questioned whether I should follow-though with my goal for those two theme scrapbooks. Why can't I just place the best pictures on the digital frame? In fact, why print any image? Is looking at them on my computer or the digital picture frame good enough?

All those photo albums I diligently put together years ago are almost never opened. Time provides perspective regarding which pictures should be kept and which ones can be thrown away. If I organized those same albums today, I would have used far fewer pictures. And this despite my efforts to use only the good photos!

If my parents had created a lifetime of albums, how many would I have? A friend, like me, sorted through all her parents photos after they were gone. To distribute the pictures to the siblings, she had to pull all the photos from the albums first. My parents lack of initiative actually made the process easier.

So, where will technology take us in the future? Will scrapbooking survive? I read recently that Eastman-Kodak is no longer making Kodachrome film. After the invention of digital photography, there was little need for the first color film made (click here, huffington post). And now with the digital picture frame, images can be downloaded without ever printing the picture.

The dilemma is whether to put the effort needed to transfer your former images to up-to-date technology. During his leisure, my husband has spent two years editing and transferring old camcorder movies of my daughter to a dvd. He is only up to her third year of life! From our last trip to his parents' house, we returned with slides from his childhood. Of course we had to purchase a scanner to capture the images.

During our annual scrapbooking experience, my daughter occasionally asks if she can have a photo. I tell her that eventually everything we have is hers, including four-generations of photos. Luckily, as an only child, she won't have to remove all the photographs from albums to share with siblings!

Before Their Time

2009-07-22T19:27:00.000-07:00

My daughter is taking swim lessons this week with the city parks and recreation department. Swim lessons have been an annual summer ritual since she was a toddler, beginning with the “Mommy and Me” class. She is finally perfecting her strokes. My daughter, like her mom, is not an athlete. Skills are mastered slowly.

Beyond the preschool swim program of starfish, tadpoles, and dolphins, lessons with the city are grouped by skill level not age. For the past three summers, I would reread the skill level requirements and conclude that my daughter did not have the skills necessary to move to the next level. Finally this year, she has the stamina and enough stroke ability to move up.

I was surprised that she wanted to take a swim class again this year. I knew she would be the oldest kid in her class. Sure enough, she is several years older than the others. The youngest child, who is maybe seven, (my daughter is 11) doesn't have the strength to keep up. Her stroking is okay, but she is one tired camper by the end of the 45-minute class. I fully expect that this child will have to be rescued before the two week class is over.

Today, as I am anxiously watching this child struggle, I suddenly hear screaming at the shallow end of the pool. A boy, about three or four years old, is desperate to get out of the pool. The swim instructor is trying to pry the child from the parent's arms. Many children have to learn during early swim lessons to put their face in the water. But this child didn't want his big toe in the water. I felt uncomfortable for the ill-equipped teenage instructor.

My daughter's swimming has improved more in two days than the last two years. I think it's because the instruction level and her ability level are perfectly matched. But I continue to wonder why parents are so willing to place their children in activities that they are not ready for or not interested in? The young girl, in my daughter's class, needs to be in a lower level class and the screaming three-year-old is not ready for any swim lessons. As parents we have got to stop comparing our child to every other child their age. Kids will do things at their own speed, when they are good and ready, or maybe not at all.

Camp

2009-06-17T17:42:00.000-07:00

The house is very quiet this week. My daughter is away at camp. This is her second year at “away camp”. I was reluctant until last year to send her to any camp, much less a resident camp. I wanted to make sure she was ready for the experience. She was.

As a recreation major, I worked five summers at camps during college. My first camp job was at a private resident camp south of Houston. Campers would come as far away as South America for three-week sessions. Next, it was two summers at a local YMCA day camp. We would take kids each day on buses to a wooded section of one of Fort Worth's municipal parks.

And if that wasn't enough of the great outdoors, I spent two summers at Girl Scout camps – a sailing camp and a horseback riding camp. I don't even ride horses! Luckily, I was the business manager and didn't have to participate in the bi-weekly rodeos! It rained so much that summer, that trees were falling over. Thankfully, none of them landed on a camper. The sailing camp was fun. That is until there was a water spout during the afternoon sail on the Houston ship channel and I almost got struck by lightning.

Now as I look back, I am amazed so many parents trust college students with the well-being of their children. And not for just a couple of days, but in some instances, for multiple week sessions. I never witnessed or participated in anything remotely questionable regarding children's safety, but the opportunities are definitely there if someone's so motivated.

When my daughter was five, I heard about a well-known day camp in my community. I was told that EVERYONE sends there kiddos there. I checked out the wooded camp in the middle of town. “No, I don't think I feel comfortable with my five-year-old in the woods all day.” “But it is a church-related camp. There's nothing to worry about,” I was told on more than one occasion.

I read recently that more children drown every year in swimming pools that from guns. At five, my daughter couldn't even tread water. If she was in any body of water, I wanted my eyeballs watching her.

I recently attended a sexual abuse awareness training. By age 18, one of every three girls and one of every six boys will be sexually molested. The news sensationalizes these crimes committed by strangers. But 90% of child sexual abuse victims are abused by someone they know and trust.

Well, as an 11-year-old, she can swim adequately now. And we have lectured her many times about the dangers of predators. So, I reluctantly sent her to a four-day resident camp last summer. She loved it.

She is back again this summer, with a friend in tow. Next week, she will attend that locally famous day camp for the first time.

I am enjoying the solitude. But I as a parent I still reserve the right to worry.

Trophies

2009-06-01T17:42:00.000-07:00

My daughter is finishing up a spring softball league. This is the only sport she has played for more than one season. Like her parents, she is not an athlete. And that's okay. I have never had illusions that she would one day go to college on an athletic scholarship. Academic scholarship maybe, but athletic scholarship, no. My only goal is to provide her with enough physical experiences that she develops some coordination.

I guess my daughter's gymnastic class at The Little Gym was her first experience with sports. She was four. At the end of the year, one of the parents took up money to give the girls a trophy at the last class. I thought, “Oh, how cute! My daughter's first trophy.”

In kindergarten, she took tennis lessons with a couple of friends. As a tennis player, I had hoped that one day we could play together. After the three girls went to separate elementary schools, that was the end of tennis. She only wanted to take lessons if her friends were there. At the end of the year, one of the parents ordered trophies for the tennis coach to present to the girls. I obediently paid another $5 and Abigail received her second trophy.

Next, it was roller skating lessons - two additional trophies. She has taken piano for four years – four recital trophies. There are two trophies for Pinewood Derby, and two for softball. So despite, being enrolled in only a few extra-curricular activities over the years, my daughter has 12 trophies collecting dust on her dresser. I have never seen my daughter touch one of these trophies. They mean nothing to her beyond the first hour of receiving them.

I never liked trophies. I remember even as a kid thinking I would rather have money or something I could use. You can't play with a trophy. When my siblings and I sold our deceased parents' house a few years back, I was finally able to throw away those 30-year old tarnished statues. But back then, children received a trophy only if they won the tournament or the team finished first in their division.

Now we give trophies every time a child participates in anything! We hand them out so much, they are meaningless. Along the way, somebody came up with the bright idea that giving children trophies for showing up would boost their self-esteem. We have a generation of young people who think they are so special that they don't have to work hard at anything. Just gracing us with their presence should be enough.

I saw a story on Sixty Minutes last year about young adults. Employers were complaining how young employees are so offended if a supervisor criticizes their work. The parents of employees are telephoning to defend their grown children! This generation has been given messages all their life that they are a one-of-a-kind superstar. If their boss doesn't value their work, another employer will and they quit on the spot.

I do believe that we all are given some special gift in life. Although at 52, I am still trying to figure out my gift! But we and our children are not great at everything we try. Children need to learn that sometimes we finish second. Or like my daughter's current softball team, last in the league.

After every game the coach gathers the girls together to tell them how wonderful they all are and how great they played. They have won one game. Only positive reinforcement, constructive feedback never.

I believe in the old saying, “It's not whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game that counts.” I don't care about her team's win-lost record. (Although winning every once in a while would be pleasant). I just want my daughter to have fun, learn the game, and DEVELOP SOME COORDINATION. If after 12 games, the girls continue hold on to a fielded ball, then they haven't learned the game and they don't deserve a trophy.

My daughter's coach is collecting $7 (inflation) this week for trophies. Even though my daughter couldn't care less about trophy #13, she stated she would feel left out if everybody receives one. I remarked to my spouse that I would rather give my daughter $7 cash.

So, we gave our daughter the choice. Surprise! She chose the cash. Now, she has spending money for a trip and I will have one less trophy to dust!

GIRLY-GIRL

2009-05-23T11:23:00.000-07:00

My daughter has never been much of a girly-girl. She is not into fashion and prefers to dress casually. This year it has been difficult getting her in a dress even for church. One Sunday she announced that she would wear a skirt to church, but not a dress. I asked, “What's the difference?” Abigail pointed to her waist and replied, “A skirt goes up to here!”

She never dries or styles her hair. As a result, I have kept it short. But this year, she declared that she was growing her hair long. I have always thought unkempt long hair on children looks “stringy”. She agreed to keep the hair groomed. Well, she was into headbands for all of two months. Most days when she leaves for school, it looks uncombed.

She is starting to have preferences in school clothes, but she still dislikes shopping. I buy a lot of her clothes on-line. She picks out the color. One morning I thought she looked quite fashionable in second-hand designer capris with a shirt and matching jacket.

I commented on how cute and coordinated she looked as she left for school. She looked at me, still in my pajamas and said “Well, you're coordinated and you used to be cute!” I laughed. She tried to dig herself out of the hole. “Your pajamas are cute and I like your socks!”

It's all right. At 52, I don't feel “too cute” either.

Faith and Isolation

2009-05-15T12:57:00.001-07:00

Having your first child at age 41 limits one's options for more than one. My daughter understands the benefits of being an only child – never having to share toys, having your own room, etc. - but she also knows it would be nice to play daily with a sibling.

Luckily, she is an independent child that can occupy herself for hours on end. At age four, I decided she was going to be an architect. She could utilize a whole deck of cards making a card house. At age six, she informed me that I had better keep all of her daily art sketches because some day she would be a famous artist and the drawings would be worth something! Her most recent venue is making stop-motion videos with her hand-me-down camera.

Just when I think I know where her future lies, she amazes me with a new interest or talent. I believe my role as her parent is to expose her to enough activities and experiences that she can figure out not only where her talents lie, but what could invigorate her as a life-long career choice. Now I am not one of those overachiever moms who thinks her child must be involved in everything starting at age 4. But it is fun to see the talents emerge over time.

My husband, like myself, was raised in the United Methodist church. We met at church. We met in a singles class in a large urban church. This setting frequently attracted people who were attending strictly for the social opportunities and never set foot in a worship service.

I found this behavior offensive. So on our first date, I asked my husband if he was a lifelong Methodist. He replied, “Well, I guess you could say I am, since my father is a Methodist preacher.” He passed my litmus test! As a married couple and now as a family, we continue to worship regularly in the Methodist church.

Unlike my daughter, my husband and I were not only children. I have three siblings, my husband has two. Isn't it interesting how siblings can grow up in the same house, with the same parents, and develop drastically different value systems. All of our siblings have continued to attend worship regularly in the Methodist church, except one. My sister-in-law, her husband, and four children have left traditional religion to participate in a fringe denomination.

The children are home-schooled. They live on a 75-acre farm in the middle of nowhere. Although computers and other technology are acceptable, there is no television. They are attempting to live off the land. They eat good!

But they are very isolated. Except for their small worship community, they seldom interact with anyone, but themselves. My brother-in-law goes to work everyday, but the rest of the family spends most of their days at home.

The children do not participate in any extra-curricular activities. There is no trick or treating, no softball leagues, no school field days, no water or amusement park outings, no summer camp.

The oldest child has completed her home-schooling. She will not be attending college. I suspect it is because the children are never allowed to interact with anyone or within any situation that cannot be monitored by the parents.

I worry about these nieces and nephews. Will they ever live independently from their parents? Will they marry someone of their choice? Will they ever be exposed to opinions different from their parents? Will they follow their dreams?

They are happy children who get along very well with each other. When not milking the cow or feeding the chickens, they play a lot of games, play music, read. But they are so very sheltered. The females are being raised to be a good “housewife”.

My daughter has no built-in playmates. We live in an older neighborhood. There are no children on our block. She loves visiting the “farm”. While there, we play endless games around the expansive kitchen table. She plays hard, but not in front of the television or on video games.

I have worried that someday she will think her cousin's daily lives strange. That she will ask why the girls have long hair and wear long dresses. Why their religious beliefs are so very different from ours. To my surprise, my daughter cried when we left the last time we visited. She begged us to turn around for hours when we departed.

On the long drive home, I had as Oprah says, an “Ah Ha” moment. My daughter and her cousins are both isolated but in very different ways. We provide Abigail a rich exposure to experiences outside our home, to people different from herself. But we cannot provide her a sibling, a built-in playmate. Her cousins have rich experiences interacting with each other within the home, but have limited life-experiences outside the home.

Is it possible to create the best of both worlds? I wonder.

Favorite Number

2009-05-09T19:14:00.001-07:00

At the breakfast table one Saturday, my daughter announced we needed to get two more dogs because three is a magic number (apparently, a song from School House Rocks).

As far as numerology goes, I have always thought three was my number. I am the third of four children. I was born on the 30th day of the month. My address growing up was 3313. When I went away to college my dorm room was 313. My church's address is 313. When we went to Disney World last year, the hotel room number was 313. Although, I can't seem to roll many threes during my monthly Bunko game!

So, I told my daughter that I always thought “3” was my number. She quickly responded that “2” was her number. I asked besides the fact that she was born on the 22nd of the month, what other 2s were there in her life? “Well,” she replied, “I have two eyes, two arms, two feet ...” I rolled my eyes. She continued, “and remember when I took dance years ago? I wore a tutu!”

The Last Egg

2009-05-07T19:28:00.000-07:00

I recently saw Kathie Lee Gifford on the Today Show. She was promoting her new book, Just When I Thought I'd Dropped My Last Egg. The book promotes the idea that women aren't finished with the game of life because there are no more eggs in their system. On most days, I agree with that premise. But there are some days I just feel like a rotten egg.

The conversation was very timely. It had been around a year since my last period. I ran to the kitchen calendar. Had I passed the one year mark? I could have a party to celebrate. I could serve deviled eggs, eggs benedict, egg rolls, egg drop soup.

I was discussing weight gain, insomnia, etc. with my doctor last year. I stated that I knew a lot of my complaints could be contributed to the fact that I was menopausal. “No,” she quickly corrected me, “You are perimenopausal.” As if I didn't know, she informed me that I had to go an entire year without a period to be menopausal. But once a year has passed without a period, isn't one “post-menopausal?” Maybe you are menopausal only for the day that connects the two.

I had missed the big day. It had passed two days before. I wonder what the ladies in my bunko group will think of the menu when I host next month!

TAKS Season

2009-05-03T12:20:00.000-07:00

It is TAKS (Texas Assessment of Knowledge and Skills) season for public schools in Texas. My fifth-grader is the middle of taking three assessment tests in math, science and reading. TAKS is administered to students every spring from third to 11th grade. Students who fail the test at the fifth grade level will not be promoted to sixth grade.

I noticed academic learning centers advertising on television. They can “prepare your child for the TAKS test.” I have known parents who spend all summer making their child work through old copies of the test. My daughter spends the summer playing.

I am not concerned my daughter will fail the tests. I am worried that she has to endure three full days of testing. It is an all day affair for these children. My daughter recently completed the reading test. She completed the exam at 1:15 PM and was the next to the last person in her room to finish.

Teachers do everything they can to make these days bearable for the children. Breaks and snacks are scheduled. However, to insure those still taking the test can concentrate, children finishing first, must sit quietly. Reading a book is the only approved activity.

When I picked my daughter up that day, she complained that they only received five minutes of recess. “But if your class finished around 2:00 PM, why did you not go outside until 3:10 PM,” I asked. “Because the entire grade level has to be finished before anyone can move!” she replied. Six sections of 25 students each, that's 150 fifth graders. I pity the child that completed that test first.

If taking three TAKS tests wasn't enough, practice tests are also given during the year. Then you add in the numerous benchmark tests that the school district requires and you have a year of testing with a few weeks of instruction thrown in for good measure.

When my daughter was in third grade, a benchmark test in math showed a sharp drop from her previous year. My daughter was in a math section that was teaching a grade-level ahead. I was concerned. The teacher hadn't noticed the difference in scores. She said the test was used by the district and in no way indicated her current situation. Further digging on my part with the school counselor revealed the answer. The benchmark tests are timed. My daughter had answered the questions correctly over 95% of the time, however, she failed to finish ½ the test.

The TAKS tests are not timed. Students are encouraged to move slowly and double check their answers. My daughter obviously couldn't keep straight which type of test she was taking that week!

Parents can view previous years TAKS tests on-line at www.tea.state.tx.us. I reviewed the fifth grade tests. The reading test was 30 pages long. I tried to answer the first set of questions for the first story. I couldn't get through the lengthy story. On to fifth grade math test. Math was my favorite subject as a child, maybe this one would be easier. I spent five minutes trying to solve a problem involving the median depth of five lakes and another five minutes trying to find the pattern in factors of 11. I had to look at the answer key!

As an elementary student, I remember taking something called the Iowa Tests. But as I recall, this occurred one week a year and only a couple hours each day. It was never an all-day affair. These tests our children are taking now are so long that breaks are scheduled for snacks, bathroom, and lunch.

You know those dreams that you have over and over again during your lifetime? One reoccurring dream I have is that I am taking a test and I can't seem to comprehend the questions much less find the correct answer. I start to panic. The time is almost up and I am only on the second question of a 10-page test. Obvious scars from taking the college entrance exam.

I took the SAT twice. I didn't like my scores the first go round. The school counselor suggested I take the test again. I remember needing to go pee before a scheduled break. I tried to hold it. The next test section was started. I had to go so bad that I could no longer concentrate. I finally broke down and asked to go to the bathroom right in the middle of a testing section. I am sure I would have qualified for a full academic scholarship if I haven't missed five minutes of that test!

I was only 17 years old, but I think those were two of the longest days of my life. The testing system in this country for public schools now requires children as young as eight to have those kind of days. These tests don't test skills assessment, they test ENDURANCE.

My daughter is an only child. We live in an older established neighborhood. There are no any other young children on our block. Recess is very important for her. If NO CHILD LEFT BEHIND means no recess, then we pass. You can find us at the playground!

Sex 101

2009-04-19T13:15:00.000-07:00

Contrary to societal pressures, it is possible to raise a child that doesn't grow up before her time. Having only one child makes this growing up process a littler easier, though. At age 11, my daughter still plays with stuffed animals and little plastic figurines. She can occupy herself for quite a long time playing make-believe.

We recently purchased a better digital camera. It was hard to get good school stage pictures with a point and shoot camera. We gave our daughter the old camera to use. My thought was we would no longer have to spend money on processing her vacation disposable camera pictures.

My daughter couldn't care less about picture-making. She is making Webkinz videos with the thing. She makes several videos each day; Webkinz having a party, Webkinz talk show, Webkinz playing Monopoly, Webkinz going shopping.

Now she is beginning to show signs of puberty. She has little breast buds. She wants to wear a bra. Her school showed a video to all the fourth graders last year. I was a little freaked out. The nurse assured me that the video would cover puberty information like menstruation facts. The school nurse informed me that with early development, some girls are developing breasts at seven and starting their period by age nine. My daughter is not one of them.

Belonging to a large urban Methodist church has many benefits. One of which is that the church has the resources to provide programs that many smaller congregations can't afford. An annual three-session human sexuality course for fifth graders is one of them.

I am freaking out again. Now don't get me wrong. I am all for sex education. I came from one of those families where a book was simply left out on the coffee table. I think that must have been prompted after I stated during the watching of an old western that the woman was going to get pregnant because she was kissing the cowboy too hard.

I don't remember my age at the time I first read that book, Everything You Wanted to Know About Sex, But Was Afraid to Ask. But I do remember that I was GROSSED OUT. Why would anyone want to do that, to have a baby or otherwise!

I know there is so much information out there that our children can be bombarded. The premise behind this class is that it is much more important for children to be taught about sexuality before they hear it from other children and that God created each of us as sexual beings. I get it.

But I wonder if we have gone from a society that explains the “birds and the bees” by leaving a book out to one in which we are forcing the information down our children's throats before they are ready. Do we provide the answer before the child begins to ask the question?

At age 11 my daughter doesn't know how babies are made, doesn't know what sexual intercourse means and was completely clueless when I read the information in the book about masturbation. All she wants to know is how many pages are left in the chapter so she can make another Webkinz video.

Life as an Older Mom

2009-02-16T11:50:00.000-08:00

I have always felt like an anomaly. I was a few months shy of 38 when I married. I had my first and only child at 41. After a miscarriage within the first year of marriage, it took three years and the help of artificial insemination, to bring my dear daughter into the world.

Every article or piece of literature I have read, talks about the repercussions of CHOOSING to delay childbirth. When this assumption is made, an entire group of people are left out of the discussion. I would have preferred to marry younger. I would have preferred to have a child before my eggs got old, but it didn't work out that way.

I was raised one of four children. My mother was 18 years old when she married. She had four children between the ages of 20 and 30. Growing up I had a couple of friends that were “only” children. I remember thinking how boring that must be for my friend not to have siblings to play with. I also wondered why a parent would have only one child. I would NEVER do such a thing.

As I became a young woman, my goal was to have three children (four seemed a bit much). And like my mother, I wanted to complete childbirth by age 30. As I finished college, with no suitors waiting in the wings, I was forced to adjust my plan. Maybe I could marry and have two children by the age of 30.

Graduate school and my first jobs followed. Marriage still wasn't in the cards. I would dread greeting relatives and friends of the family. Inevitably they would ask if I was dating anyone. If so, were there wedding bells in the picture?

By my late 20s, I had to acknowledge that the master plan wasn't going to happen. Maybe I could at least marry by age 30.

The big 3-0 came and went. I distinctively remember that birthday. I had been treated to lunch by a friend, but had no plans for the evening. That night I thought about all my naive plans for marriage and family.

I was raised a traditional kind of gal. When I started college in 1974, opportunities for women were just beginning to open up. Even though neither of my parents were college-educated, I was motivated to attend college. But like many young women of that time, besides an education, I assumed college was a place to obtain your M.R.S. Degree. When that didn't happen, I started a career by default.

I had no models or mentors along the way. As I struggled with choosing a major, my mom's only suggestion was that I should become a teacher. I didn't know what my strengths were at that age, but there was one thing I knew for certain; getting up in front of people, of any age, was not my forte.

I worked in university student affairs for 14 years. In my continual attempt to find my way, I relocated to the northeast for a while. After a couple of years, I had proven my independence, but I felt like a fish out of water. I returned to Texas.

After I had long given up my “master plan” and was beginning to think that maybe I would remain single (not that there's anything wrong with that!), I met my husband. And yes, Moms are right about church being a good place to meet someone.

BUT, I didn't choose to delay marriage until almost 40. I didn't choose to wait until my parents were deceased to marry. Although my brother walked me down the aisle, I would have preferred it had been my dad. I didn't choose for my daughter to never meet her maternal grandparents. I didn't choose to have only one child.

When my daughter was around four years old, she began asking why she didn't have a brother or sister. I explained that her mommy was just too old. Well-meaning friends would ask, “don't you want to have another child?” After looking at me, then my daughter, strangers inquired, “Is she your youngest child?”

I am now going through menopause while my daughter enters adolescence. I explain to her that the burst of hormones her body is now producing, the lack of which, is why mom is so bitchy.

Oh, life has certainly been interesting. Like becoming a card-carrying member of AARP when your daughter is excited about having a birthday that puts her in double-digits for the first time. Or attending a PTA meeting to find you are old enough to be the mother of the other parents. And most recently, trying to get fired up about Girl Scout cookie sales.

Yes, I am an older than average mom, who was graced with a beautiful healthy daughter at 41. But please stop assuming that I chose to wait. We are not all given the same choices in life. And sometimes, life doesn't happen in the time frame that we have so carefully laid out. But you seize the moment, no matter how late!