Because of my Father

Because of my father, I do not shy away from a DIY opportunity... especially when it comes to broken toilets.

Because of my father, I can spiral a football. I can also throw and hit a baseball. Unfortunately, I never mastered catching a baseball. Unless you count the time I caught a baseball with my face and landed in the emergency room with a broken nose.

Dad's lil slugger
Photo Credit: Edward Pauksta

Because of my father, I know a well written letter (love, complaint, or recommendation) goes a long way.

Because of my father, I dedicate myself to hobbies and enjoy them even though I know I'll never become a professional... no matter how many lessons I take, years of practice I put into it, or money I throw at it.

We don't have many pictures of Pops.
He was always on the other side of the camera.
Photo Credit: Edward Pauksta

Because of my father, I can turn an ordinary "Sloppy Joe" sandwich into a gourmet meal by calling it a "Sloppy Joseph" and draping a dish towel over my arm like a waiter at a fancy restaurant.

Because of my father, I don't try to ride my bike up a steep hill in the lowest gear. Yeah, it hurts more when I petal, but I get up the hill faster.

Photo Credit: Edward Pauksta

Because of my father, I read consumer reports and reviews. I make sure I know the return policy. I comparison shop everything. I always read the instructions first.

Because of my father, my college dorm room was wallpapered with "The Far Side" comic greeting cards.

Because of my father, I listen to and appreciate the musical talents of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, Eric Clapton, The Police, and Leo Kottke. My kids are receiving the same education.

Photo Credit: Edward Pauksta

Because of my father, "floating like an empty beer can down a river" is an acceptable style of swimming.

Because of my father, I turned in the best school projects, I wore the prettiest dress at the senior prom, and I had the best Father of the Bride speech of all time.

Not a dry eye in the house.
Photo Credit: Edward Pauksta

Because of my father, I know the early bird gets to enjoy a cup of coffee in peace.

Because of my father, I know that I will never be able to learn how to drive a car with a manual transmission. If he couldn't teach me, no one can. I've accepted this fact.

Because of my father, I have bluish-grey eyes, thick dark hair, broad shoulders, and long fingers. 

They say I look like my dad...
Photo Credit: Edward Pauksta

Because of my father, I have a low tolerance for annoying neighbors and will most likely move to a place where there aren't many around when I retire.

Because of my father, I want my daughters to go fishing, walk up and down the aisles in a hardware store, work on a car, hammer a nail, hang out in the reptile house at the zoo, and play catch with their dad, too. Hopefully, they inherited The Hub's hand-eye coordination.

Photo Credit: Edward Pauksta

Because of my father, I love a good story.

Because of my father, I tell a good story.

I am who I am, because of my father.

Happy Father's Day! I love you Pops!
Photo Credit: Edward Pauksta

Because of my Mother

Photo Credit: Edward S. Pauksta

Because of my mother, recipes are merely suggestions in my kitchen. Only a 1/4 teaspoon of cumin? Nah, I think it needs more. I also blame the recipe for any culinary disasters. It's not my fault! I followed the recipe!

Because of my mother, I build amazing forts out of old bed sheets.

Because of my mother, I use moisturizer with sunscreen.

Because of my mother, I read stories using different voices for each character.



Photo Credit: Edward S. Pauksta

Because of my mother, I can watch a movie though my eyelids. I'm not sleeping! I'm listening to the movie and resting my eyes!

Because of my mother, I know the secret to an amazing sandwich is to toast the bread.

Because of my mother, I take pride in little family traditions.

Because of my mother, I obsess about feeding people. Would you like something to eat? No? How about a snack? Are you sure? I can cut up some fruit for you. You're sure you're not a little bit hungry? Oh... alright... here's a sandwich.



This was the only way my mom could get me to eat when I was younger. 
My daughters do the same thing.
I guess acting like a monkey at dinner time comes from my side of the family.
Photo Credit: Edward S. Pauksta

Because of my mother, I take clues from my nightly dreams. I also believe I have a very strong sixth sense. I just know when something is wrong or someone is in trouble. I feel it in my bones and I dream about it at night.

Because of my mother, I notice everyone's eyebrows. I also know that one should never change their natural eyebrow shape too much. It'll make you look weird.

Because of my mother, I sing to my kids even though I can't sing.

Photo Credit: Edward S. Pauksta

Because of my mother, my kids know the extreme joy of jumping into my bed and pretending the floor is shark infested waters or molten lava.

Because of my mother, I know I fold my bath towels the "wrong way." The way she folds her bath towels so they hang nicely on the towel bar was ingrained into my psyche from an early age, but the way I fold my towels takes up less space in the linen closet. Either way, I think about my mother every time I fold a towel.

Because of my mother, I have a flair for inventing bizarre combinations of bad words when I am really mad.

Because of my mother, I nag my kids AND husband about bringing a jacket in case it gets cold.

Photo Credit: Edward S. Pauksta

Because of my mother, I trust my parental instincts.

Because of my mother, I know that sometimes I will screw up as a parent and it's okay. Kids are resilient.

Because of my mother, I leave little love notes on napkins in my daughter's lunch box.

Because of my mother, I am willing to try new things.

Photo Credit: Edward S. Pauksta

Because of my mother, I have natural red highlights in my hair.

Because of my mother, I can laugh at myself.

I am who I am, because of my mother.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom! I love you.

Our Flag Was Still There

I pushed the full grocery cart through the parking lot with my two kids in tow. It was close to 6:00 P.M. and I was mentally checking my "To Do" list which included cooking, cleaning, packing, organizing and other tedious whatnots. The day was getting away from me fast.

"Mommy? Why is it so low?"

My eldest daughter, S, was looking past the car at the large American Flag in the Kroger parking lot. It was at half-mast.

"Oh, uh... they lowered it for the bombing in Boston."

"Why?"

Okay, mama....This is one of those learning moments... try to give her a good answer. "Well, it's the country's way of saying that we're sad. Many people were hurt yesterday. Some people even died. We lower the flag to let them know that the country supports them."

My youngest daughter, B, smiled her mischievous smile and said, "I want to touch it."

Knowing she would attempt to climb the pole to touch the flag if I let her get a step closer, I said, "No, you can't touch the flag. But, you can put your hand over your heart and say the Pledge of Allegiance. You know the pledge, right?"

So there we were, in the Kroger parking lot, hands over hearts, saying the Pledge of Allegiance.

On the drive home, S stated that she knows the American song.

'You mean the National Anthem?"

She tilted her head back and sang, "Oooooooooh say can you seeeeeeeee by the dawn's early lightttttt! What so proudly we hail by the gleaming stars!!!"

"Close, baby. I'll sing it for you." And I started singing. Badly. And I'm pretty sure I messed up a line or two. But, I was trying. I've sung The Star-Spangled Banner at ball games. I had to sing it a few times when I was in the elementary school chorus when the music teacher was forgiving and perhaps a little tone deaf. It's a hard song to sing. My girls giggled from the backseat when I hit a few sour notes. I didn't mind and kept going. Then I got to the line:

And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.

My eyes filled with tears. My voice cracked and I couldn't keep singing. I always get a little choked up when I hear that line and I could never figure out why. I guess I always thought it was the swell of the music and not the words that touched a nerve. But, today I finally figured it out.

Yesterday, The Hub called me when he heard the news about the Boston marathon bombing. It was still early and we knew less details than the little we know now. There were two bombs at the finish line. At the time, there were two deaths reported and many critical injuries which included severed limbs. This hit home for The Hub because he was born in Massachusetts. His entire family lives or has lived there at one time or another. When we came home from work, we ate dinner in front of the T.V. and watched the news reports. It was awful. It was scary. It was unreal. Once again, I had to explain to my little girls that the world is filled with evil people and sometimes bad things happen to good people and I don't know why. I fell asleep with fear in my heart again.

But, it was business as usual this morning. Get up, get ready, get the kids ready, get to work, do my job, drive home, get the kids, run errands and get ready for another day. Even though I listened to the radio shows talk about Boston and their feelings on the matter, I felt numb to it all. I suppose it was my way of moving on and "not letting the bad guy win." Maybe I didn't dwell on it because I was afraid I might jinx my good fortune for not being one of the victims. Maybe I just didn't want to believe that someone could wake up one morning and decide that today was a good day to hurt other people. It wasn't until I sang that line that it dawned on me why I wasn't scared to leave my house this morning and how I was able to keep on keeping on even though there was no way I could be certain that my world wouldn't end today.

Our flag was still there.

Francis Scott Key did not see the rocket's red glare and the bombs bursting in air as "the end." The light from the explosions lit up the night sky so he could see the flag. Every flash gave him a glimpse of hope. As long as that flag was there, we were still there. What a beautiful thought. Even in the most devastating moments, there is hope. The flag is a grand symbol of our county. The flag is also the grand symbol of us. The flag is the first responders who ran into the blast. The flag is the stranger holding another stranger on Boylston Street. The flag is a nation in mourning for the pain and suffering that was placed upon group of regular everyday people cheering on marathon runners and celebrating Patriot's Day. Whether it is a bomb burst, an airplane crash, a gun shot, or a freak accident, these tragedies light up the darkness and give proof that We, the People are still good. The flag is still there. As long as we stand together and help each other, we are still there.

I know our country is not perfect. There is a lot of feuding about what's fair and what's right. We are not in the best way financially and there are times when it doesn't seem like we're going to get out of the hole. Everyone has an opinion and there isn't a lot of compromise. We have a lot to work on.  But, we're a family. I love my family even though there are things I don't like about my family. But, heaven help anyone who tries to mess with my family. We might not be perfect, but we stand together when things get tough. The same brothers who throw punches at each other will band together and love each other. We are a big dysfunctional family and I am so very proud to be part of it. We will mourn the ones we lost yesterday. We will try to make sense of what happened and why. We will celebrate the heroes. We will try to find the bad guys and bring them to justice. We will carry on and remember what we learned from this horrific event. And with time, we will be fine.

To my brothers and sisters in Boston: We love and support you. We are still here.

Letter to a Pound Pup

Dear New Pup,

Welcome to our home! I hope you like it here. I know this is a very exciting time for you. New smells, new people, new places to explore... I'm sure it can be a bit overwhelming. I'm going to be honest with you, I was a little nervous, too. With only a picture from the county shelter website and a brief introduction in the meeting area, we were really relying on first impressions and gut instinct. We don't know how you landed in doggie prison, other than you were wandering around in the wrong place at the wrong time. We posted your bail, paid for your spay, and promised we will take care of you for the rest of your life. By the way, we think you are about one or two years old so we're expecting to spend many years with you.

Doing hard time in the Big House

Bustin' out of the slammer

To make this transition easier for both you and the rest of the group, I thought I'd give you a heads up on the house rules.

1. Play with your human sisters. I know they are loud and run around like monkeys on crack, but they are good kids. They like to throw the tennis ball down the hall. Please play along and grab it. You'll get bonus points if you bring it back to them. Every once in a while, be sure to give them a lick. They love that stuff. I see that you've already claimed my youngest daughter as your favorite. My heart melted when you laid beside her when she had a little stomach virus this weekend and refused to leave her side. Good girl. You're a good girl.

2. I know you have a bad hind leg. We see the scars and the x-ray confirms you have pretty severe arthritis in your knee. They think you might have suffered blunt force trauma there at one point in your young age. Please be patent with us as we try to manage your pain and make the best decision as to how to make it better. The vet said we have a few options, but it's pretty much guaranteed that we'll have to amputate your hind leg when you get older. I know it sounds horrible, but you're already learning to not use that leg as much and I think you would really rock the tripod look. Whatever we have to do, we'll always place your comfort and quality of life as top priority. For now, we'll try the other options and see how that works for you.

3. With that being said, it looks like the couch and the end of our bed are off limits to you. I don't think it's a good idea for you to try to climb up on or off of those high places. Please don't think that because your older fur sister, Bailey Grace, sprawls out like a pampered princess on our furniture that she is the golden child. We love you both equally. Feel free to sleep in any room you wish. I'll move your bed around for you.

4. As soon as the staples from your spay are removed and we can take off "The Cone of Shame," be prepared for a really thorough bath. You still smell like prison. I want to wash the past out of your fur. Bailey loves baths and loves being toweled off even more. I hope you feel the same. If not, I'll be quick and avoid getting water in your eyes.

I pulled at my stitches. Now I wear the "Cone of Shame."

5. Be patient with Bailey. Even though she's almost two years old, she's still a stupid puppy. She lost her older fur brother, Malcolm Reynolds, five months ago and she really missed his company. She might get a little too rambunctious when she wants to play because he was twice her size and he could handle it. You are twenty pounds lighter than her so let her know when she gets to be too much. She might pout for a while, but she'll always look out for you, just like she does for her human family. Last night, you cried out in your sleep. Bailey jumped off the bed and laid with you until you settled down. Once she knew you were okay, she jumped back on the bed and fell asleep. She doesn't know what you went through to earn those horrible scars around your chest and across your back, but she'll be there to help you move on. P.S. She'll always give up her bone or tennis ball to you. She's kind of a wimp. Please don't take advantage of that. P.P.S. I don't get why she needs to sniff your butt as much as she does... if that bothers you, feel free to tell her to knock it off.

This happened for at least 3 hours the first day. Bailey, you're such a perv.

6. Don't eat anything that is not food. Just don't. I'll keep the house clean to eliminate the temptation, but do me a solid and stick to dog food.

7. At least pretend to feel guilty about farting. We all know it was you.

8. Remember to suck up to the extended family, our friends, the vet, and neighbors. Show them that you are a good dog with a gentle disposition. (I've seen it first hand and I know that even with the abuse from your past, you still love people. I don't know if I could be that forgiving.) They will be the first ones to speak up against the media driven stereotype of pit bulls and the fear of rescuing animals from a shelter. You're our second pit bull and our third rescue from our county shelter. If more people witness what amazing companions you truly are, maybe more of your kind will find good homes. I will do my part to be a good owner and together we'll change opinions one good interaction at a time.

Squirrel! 

I know it sounds like a lot, but we'll work with you while you get adjusted to your new life here. I'm sorry I don't know your real name. The family decided on the name "Sidney Ray." We chose "Ray" for your middle name, because since you entered our home, you have been a ray of sunshine. Thank you for you sweet kisses and little grunts when I walk through the door each day. Thank you for loving my daughters and checking on them when they cry. Thank you for keeping Bailey company while we are at work and school. Thank you for making the decision to adopt another dog an easy one.



Love,
Your New Mommy

**Please support your local animal shelter. I bet you it's full and many wonderful animals are running out of time. You can adopt, foster, or donate. Sidney Ray was adopted from Gwinnett County Animal Shelter in Lawrenceville, GA. Thank you to the Helping Animals at Gwinnett County Shelter
 facebook page for posting that picture of Sidney. You did more than just save an animal that day.

Help control the pet population. Have your pets spayed or neutered. - Bob Barker

 

Fear, Guilt, and Carrying On (One Mom's Personal Reaction to the Sandy Hook Massacre)

Sometimes a "No" can become a "yes." It turns out, I have a full time job now. So much can happen in a span of a week. Long story extremely short: The fourth job I interviewed for and turned down, called me back a couple of days later with a new position and a better offer. (I guess they really liked me! Which is good, because I really like them.) I will start January 2, 2013 and work during my daughter S's school hours. B, my youngest daughter, will go to daycare. The best part is that I will still have plenty of hours during the day to help with homework, run errands, and work on my blog and book. It's the perfect situation for me.

Of course, with the excitement of additional income and a new adventure comes nervous feelings. I've been a stay at home mom for over three and a half years. In a little over two weeks, I will have to completely adjust my schedule. Gone are the days of wearing my yoga pants three days in a row. I'll have to get completely dressed before 6:00 AM, get both kids up and dressed, and send them off to their respective schools before I can start my day. I remember what it was like to work full time with just one child. Getting it all done with two is a daunting task. I'm nervous about how B will respond to daycare. She has extreme separation anxiety right now. B has to be by my side at all times. She panics when I close the bathroom door. If I walk out of the room, she follows me. I wake up at 3:00 AM with her laying on top of me every night. I almost pity her daycare teacher. The poor lady will have her hands full. 

Those were the fears whispering in my ear all week. They were little doubts that I could reason through and assure myself that it was all going to be okay. I knew it was little jitters due to change and when I would feel overwhelmed, I would imagine the training montage from Rocky IV and know that I could do it. Then Friday afternoon, I learned of the Sandy Hook Elementary School massacre in Newtown, Connecticut. Twenty-six people lost their lives in a shooting rampage. Twenty of them were very young children. Four of them were the same age as my daughter, S. Suddenly, the nerves I had about the new routine were replaced with a new fear, a completely unexpected terrible fear. That could have been my daughter.

I could feel the blood drain from my face. And then, I cried. I sobbed. I yelled. I sat still and quiet. I could feel a sharp pain in my chest as I read the names of the adults and children lost. I crumbled at the sight of children running for their lives. I cursed the monster who did all this damage. (I refuse to write his name. Evil does not deserve a name.) I asked questions. Why? How could you? I couldn't imagine how terrified those little babies felt. I couldn't imagine how terrified the parents and teachers felt. I praised the adults that did everything they could to protect their children. I cheered on the first responders and all the men and women who jumped into action. I questioned God and my personal faith. (I'm sure I wasn't alone.) I did not know a single person who died on Friday, but as a mother, the instinct to protect our young went into over drive and I felt a sharp pang of sorrow for the parents who had their children ripped from their lives on a random Friday.

I became fearful of other people... The shadows that could very easily take my children from me without warning. I feared for their safety in school. I questioned if sending my youngest to daycare was a good move. Through all of my emotions, I took great strides to hide them from my children and kept them blissfully unaware of the events. Neither one of them had a clue. To them, life was normal, except mommy was hugging and kissing them a lot more than usual. I debated over and over if I should tell S about the shootings. The Hub and I initially agreed that we would not tell her, but after further thought, we decided it was better that she hear it from us, than from a school bus mate. School bus mates never get the story right.

But, above all the sorrow, anger, and fear, I was glad it didn't happen to us. That sparked the guilt.

Here I was, about to post a funny blog that afternoon before I heard the news, complaining about my kids (in jest of course) and there are parents who would do anything to hold their children again. Then, I thought of all the parents who have lost their children in freak accidents or illness. I am so lucky to have my daughters. They are healthy. They are free from injury. The challenges in their daily lives never go beyond the normal challenges kids face. Our biggest issue right now is who started the fight first and finishing the vegetables on their plates. I spent the whole week worrying about how I was going to get my butt out of bed early enough to get the morning routine done. I worried about the inevitable tantrums the first week of work... B's and my own. The parents who lost their children would give anything to face those challenges again because that would mean that their life was how it used to be. We are the lucky ones.

This afternoon, I heard a weird banging noise coming from the hall bathroom. I walked in to find B hanging from the towel bar like a little monkey. One side of the bar is barely attached to the wall. I yelled, "Don't hang from the bar! You'll pull it down!" That was the first time I raised my voice in three days. It was the first time I was fully aware that I was in a haze from all of this. I realized that I let fear and guilt overcome me this weekend and I wasn't fully doing my job. I was dwelling in the negative and half-present in my life. I shouldn't feel guilty because I'm not experiencing ultimate suffering. I should be grateful. I should honor the parents in mourning by doing my job as well as I possibly can. I need to raise loving human beings and send them out into the world, hopefully making it a better world. That is my job. My kids are going to misbehave. I'm going to discipline them. My kids are going to do funny things. I'm going to laugh at them. My kids are going to drive me crazy and I will want a break from them, but I will continue to love them with every fiber of my being. I need to show them how to be brave... which means I must be brave. I need to teach them that even in the face of darkness, the light within us will give us courage and strength. Life will go on even when it feels like it won't. I am going to continue to share my stories about crayon marked walls, scraped knees, grocery store tantrums, parenting fails and all, because that is what I do. I will honor every parent by continuing to tell them that it will be fine, even when it feels like it won't be. They are not alone. It is good to laugh. It is good to live. It is good to keep going. But, maybe we'll try harder. Maybe we'll love more. Maybe we'll help each other out and work as a team. Maybe we'll argue less and try to come up with a real solution. Maybe we'll take more moments to recognize just how good it all is. Maybe we'll appreciate just how fragile it all can be.

Photo Credit: http://www.onlinegriefsupport.com/

**Here is an ABC News article listing all the ways you can help the Sandy Hook community. Click this link: How You Can Help Newtown Connecticut Community Affected by Shooting - ABC News

The Answer is No.

When I became a parent seven years ago, I had a pretty good idea of what was expected of me. I had to fulfill certain requirements like clean up messes, cook, and kiss boo-boos. You know... mommy work. What I didn't realize was that I would also face a lot of disappointment. It's not so much my disappointment, but the disappointment of my children. I say the word "no" a lot. It turns out, I am a dream crusher at least ten times a day. It goes something like this:

Kid: Can I have candy for breakfast?
Me: No.
Kid: Awww! 

Kid: Can I run through the lawn sprinklers? 
Me: It's the middle of winter. No.
Kid: Awww!

Kid: Can I have an iPhone?
Me: I don't even have an iPhone. Besides you're 6. No.
Kid: Awww!

Kid: Can I cut my own hair?
Me: Hell, no.
Kid: Awww! (Sneaks off with scissors and does it anyway.)

I also say "no" to jumping off the couch, to getting dessert without finishing dinner first, to driving the car, (my 3 year old thinks if she keeps asking, I'll eventually give in and let her take the family sedan for a spin), to wearing bright red lipstick to school, and to staying up late to watch Family Guy. (But, mom! It's a cartoon!)

Over the last year, I have tried to get a job. I had four great opportunities and none of them worked out. Three of those times, I got a "no." I didn't fit their requirements in one way or another. The fourth time happened today. Unfortunately, they didn't fit my requirements and I said no. It's difficult to hear the word "no" when you really want something. When it comes to employment, it can really be dream crushing. While waiting (sometimes several weeks) for the results of your interview, it is easy to daydream about how things will be once you get that "yes, you're hired" phone call. I had the next two years planned out. My nights were spent dreaming sexy dreams of a time when we could quickly pay off our debt. We could fix up the house. We could go on a real vacation. We could actually save a little for rainy days... or what I like to call, "Dammit! The water heater is leaking!" days. But, then the answer is no and little dream bubbles are popped. You wake up and decide if you're going to let that "no" stop you. When my daughter wanted to cut her own hair, she didn't let my "no" stop her. Of course, she regretted that tenacious move once she found herself in the nearest Great Clips watching what was left of her long blonde hair fall to the floor. Regardless, she didn't let a "no" stop her.

And neither will I.

I'm going to say yes and hire myself. I think I am a good fit. I know I am driven and I have fantastic ideas. I think I can produce some amazing work. I have the potential to do something big. I can make one hell of a pot of coffee. I'm the perfect employee for me. 

I have big plans for 2013. First, I want to really turn "You'll Be Fine. I Promise." into something wonderful. I'm talking new design, new features, and forums. I want to sell YBFIP merchandise. I want to start a charity or a program where we... you, my very fine readers, and I can help out and be love. I want to see just how far I can go with this little blog. That means more posts, more Facebook posts and Twitter tweets... or twits... tweeps? I'm going to network like hell, people. It scares me, but I'm going to put myself out there.

Second, I have set a real goal to finish my children's book. I started it earlier this year, but like my P90X DVDs, the manuscript remains untouched, ignored, and provides a great deal of self-imposed guilt. This year, I will finish it. You read it here, folks. Now, I have to do it. Shit. Now I HAVE to do it.

I've already shared my goals with a few of my pals. I get the same response, "Yes. Do it. It's about damn time, Terese." They also ask me how they can help. I give them the same answer:

Read my blog and share it with everyone you know.

That's it. If you enjoy my stories, please share them with others. It sounds so simple, but it is a huge deal for me. I am grateful for every page view, every comment, every share. I'm even grateful for the dirty birdie who googled "30 year old tits" and clicked on my post, "Birthday Wishes of a 30-Something Year Old," not once, but twice in the same day. I'm a little creeped out, but grateful for the traffic.

So, stay tuned. I hope you are as jazzed about this as I am. Also, if you have any suggestions or ideas of things you would like to see here, let me know. I want this blog to be a kind of community. Granted, I'll be the one doing most of the talking, but I want you to join in, too. 

I have a dream and a goldfish in a Ziploc baggie...
Who's coming with me?!
Photo Credit: Sony Pictures

Giving Thanks

I was the first one to wake up on this cold Thursday morning, Thanksgiving Day. I am thankful for a quiet morning. I set up the coffee maker and fed Bailey. I am thankful that this dog is healthy and does not like to eat socks. I let Bailey outside and noticed all the cars parked in my neighbors' driveways. I am thankful that I don't have to cook today and that I love my in-laws who invited us to their Thanksgiving dinner. I stepped on a toy in the living room. I am thankful that no one is visiting our house so it doesn't matter what it looks like today. I am also thankful that I stepped on a soft toy and not a Leggo.

My daughters wake up. Within minutes, they are arguing over cartoons and who gets the warm blanket this time. I am thankful that my kids don't know many struggles beyond sibling disagreements. I am thankful that they are allowed to be children. There are too many children who have to deal with scary, painful, heavy, lonely situations that force them to grow up fast and become hard.

My kids: What do we do on Thanksgiving?

Me: Well, we make a big feast and spend time together as a family and be thankful for everythi...
My Kids: So we just eat all day?!

I am thankful that we will just eat all day. 

Me: Why don't you make a list of all the things for which you are thankful...

S (age: almost 7) is thankful for:

Mom
Dad
Food
B, my sister
Puppies
Santa Claus
The ocean
America
Sunshine
The Earth
Technology
Love
Water
Friends
Heros
Ukuleles
Rainbows
Books
My grandparents
My aunts and uncles
My cousins
Bees
Mrs. Stuffy (her stuffed bear)

B (age: 3 1/2) is thankful for:

Green lollipops
Popcorn
Playing Mario Bros. on the old Nintendo with S
Bailey
My sister
My blue blankie that S can't have
Water to drink
Playing pre-school games on the computer
That I get to go to school soon
Balloons... Can I have a balloon, mama? I really want a balloon!

I am thankful for my funny kids. I have no idea why S is thankful for a ukulele...

The Hub is thankful for:

Healthy family

A wonderful (super hot) wife(!)

My freakin' job
Local breweries
My garden
Thai food

That UGA is ranked #3 at the moment and has a chance to play in the BCS championship game for the first time since 1980. GO DAWGS!

I am also thankful for:

The Hub (my super hot best friend)
The kids
My parents
My extended family and friends
My ability to laugh and make others laugh
Strong coffee
Under eye concealer
Beer
Yoga pants
For always having a story to tell
New adventures

Happy Thanksgiving to you all! I am thankful that you read my blog!

I am thankful for my little sisters!
... and my keen fashion sense.
Photo credit: Edward Pauksta 11/1984

Lies I Tell My Kids

This past Sunday, The Hub was off working a side job with his dad. The girls and I were bumming around the house. I usually don't do any housework on the weekends, but since The Hub wasn't home, it really didn't feel like much of a weekend. In fact, it felt more like a Monday, but with an extra kid to entertain. I decided to get a jump on the next week's chores and vacuum the carpet. My kids like to pretend that the vacuum cleaner is a scary monster out to get them. Most days, I play along and chase after them yelling, "Get on the couch before you get sucked up!" This time, I wasn't in the mood to run around. My eldest daughter, S, wasn't either. She was reading a book and was pretty annoyed by the noise. However, my youngest daughter, B, is always ready to run around and scream, so when I plugged in the vacuum, she was already standing on the couch and preparing to battle the vacuum monster.

As I made my way around the room, B was running back and forth between the living room couch and the foyer. It's too complicated to set up exactly how "what happened next" happened without pictures and video replay, so I'll just give you the Reader's Digest version. Basically, B tripped and landed face first into the foyer tile floor. The impact was so great that her head actually bounced back and slammed into the floor a second time. I've heard that people will swear that time slows down when they witness something horrific. I tell you now, it actually happens. It was the longest half second of my life and I couldn't do anything except stand there and watch. 

B jumped up, cupped her mouth with her little hand and screamed. I ran over, picked her up, and pulled her hand away from her face. Blood. Blood everywhere. 

Like this, only with a little more blood.

I am a firm believer that things that reside on the inside of the body should stay inside the body. Blood needs to stay inside the body. When I saw it gushing from my daughter's face, I felt a little faint. Okay. A lot faint. I fell back onto the couch with B still in my arms. S, was already buzzing around asking a ton of questions about what just happened. Fighting the urge to completely black out, I quietly asked S to grab a wash cloth and run it under some cold water. B is wailing now because she sees her own blood pooling in her hand. S returned with a wet wash cloth in record time. She was so fast that I actually took a second to praise her for following directions and moving with such speed. Right before I started wiping the blood off my little girl's face, I took a deep breath and said with a smile, "It's okay, baby. I promise. Everything is okay." I just lied to my daughter. I had no idea how bad her injuries were and I doubted my ability to maintain my composure if her injuries were really gruesome.

Once I determined the blood was not coming from her nose, I moved to her lips. They were extremely swollen but they were not cut. Oh shit. It's her mouth. Keep in mind, B is still screaming at the top of her lungs. I gently pull back her top lip. I don't see her top two teeth. I see a lot of blood, but no teeth. Oh. My. God! Wait! Wait! Nope, they're still there. They were just covered with blood. Turns out that B bit the inside of her upper lip with her two top teeth. It was a pretty gnarly gash, but not bad enough for stitches. Her teeth were a little wiggly, but not enough to warrant a trip to the dentist. Her top lip swelled to Angelina Jolie proportions. It took about an hour and two icy pops to stop the bleeding and the crying, but B was fine. I didn't have to make an emergency room visit, no stitches needed, and no teeth in a cup of milk. It really was okay, just as I promised. My lie ceased to be a lie and I was relieved.

After I came down from my adrenaline rush, I thought about how I told my bloody kid that everything was okay. I didn't know that it was. For all I knew, it wasn't okay and I was terrified that she did some major damage to her grill. I lied to keep her calm. I needed her to stay still and let me poke around a very sensitive wound. Freaking her out with the truth would have made the situation that much worse. They say, "A lie is a lie." Fine. I lied to my kid. Even when I tell them not to tell lies, I told a lie. In fact, I tell them lies all the time. Truthfully? I don't feel bad about it one bit. I can justify each lie...

Lies I tell my kids to keep them safe and healthy:

• "Broccoli makes your hair grow super long and super fast!" Actually, any food they don't want to eat at the time can work here. You would be amazed how many foods have super hair growth properties. I even go as far as to "measure" their hair before and after dinner, just to prove my point.
• "The Tooth Fairy does not pay full price for rotten teeth!" If the Tooth Fairy has to shell out money to get those baby teeth filled, she does not shell out quarters for those teeth when they fall out. I'm not above scaring my kids into brushing their teeth.
• "The ice cream truck driver is actually a monster in disguise trying to catch kids and eat them." I save money and the kids don't beg for ice cream treats when that creepy old van covered in faded Good Humor stickers drives down our street. 

 RUN KIDS! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!

Lies I tell my kids to keep the peace:

• "Yes, I'd love to read Elmo Saves Christmas to you again!" ... for the twentieth time... in July.
• "Marathon of Dora the Explorer? Count me in!" I didn't want to watch The View anyway.
• "No, monsters don't live in your closet. Go to sleep!" Of course, this is a big ol' fat lie. Monsters do live in closets and under the bed and in the basement and the attic and the toilet... See: My Dark Secret
• "No. Sorry! I don't have any gum." Yes, I do. But, it's my last piece and your sister will want one, too. I also don't want to cut gum out of your hair later.
• "I just got a text from Santa Claus. It says, 'I am watching you fight with your sister. I am not pleased.'" This lie takes a bit of planning, but as long as both kids still believe in Santa, I'm using it. I replace The Hub's caller ID picture on my phone with a picture of Santa. All I have to do is let The Hub know that the kids are misbehaving and he sends a text to my phone. 100% satisfaction guaranteed! 

Santa just sent me ANOTHER text...
He says he saw you pick your nose and he wants you to stop.
It's gross.

Lies I tell my kids to encourage them:

• "You did a beautiful job on my nails!"

I have my own personal manicurist. Jealous?

• "I can't believe you beat me in Candyland again!" I only let them win until they start the first grade. After that, it's official rules only. I don't want them to believe (1) They will win every game and (2) that I really suck that much at Candyland. 
• "Oh honey, this picture looks just like me! It's beautiful!"

S drew this portrait of me for "Muffins With Mom" day in Pre-K. (Spring/2011)
There are so many bits of awesome in this picture.

I know there are people out there who will argue that I am teaching my kids that it's okay to lie. Sure. Okay. I can accept that. I believe that white lies are part of living in polite society. For example: Let's say your favorite aunt gave you an ugly sweater for your birthday. Like most folks, you will say thank you and that it's a lovely sweater. But, you're either going to return the sweater, re-gift it, or only wear it when your dear ol' aunt comes around. You just lied. If you were honest and told your aunt that you have no intention of ever wearing that hideous piece of wool crap and that you worry about her fashion sense, you would most likely hurt her feelings. You would also look like a real jackass. I don't think every scribble put on paper is a masterpiece, but when my 3 year old daughter, B, shows me her latest attempt to draw a flower, (or is that a horse... oh, wait. I see it now... it's an airplane) I tell her I love her work and I'm proud of her for trying so hard. Then I tell her to keep practicing. I know that if I told B that she lacks artistic abilities (like her mother), she would stop trying. I would rather have a fridge full of flower-horse-airplanes then no art at all. 

I know that little lies may cause some serious damage. I know because my mother told me a terrible lie when I was a child that caused irrevocable trauma to my psyche.  One night, I was pushing my food around on the plate and sulking because, yet again, my mom was forcing me to choke down a giant mountain of peas. I really hated peas. When she realized that all her threats of going to bed hungry or not getting a dessert did not shake my will, she resorted to guilt (like any good Irish Catholic mother would do). 

"Terese, just take one little bite. Just one and then you can leave the table." 

Fine. Just one bite. That's it.

"Good girl. But, wait! You just ate the little kid pea. What about her mom and dad? They're still on the plate! You just made the little kid pea an orphan! You can't separate the family, Terese! Can you hear the mommy and daddy pea? They're saying, 'Oh no! Our daughter is gone! We're so sad!'"

Oh no! Okay, I'll eat the mommy and daddy pea, too.

"But, what about the grandparents?"

To this day, I have to eat every pea on my plate or I will feel extreme guilt for breaking up the family.

Well played, mom. Well played.

Mommy Tantrums

I've been in a bad mood lately.

No. Strike that. 

I've been in a really bad mood lately. I've been cranky for over a month now. Not all day, every day... more like, more often than not. I have a bad temper. My immediate family has seen my temper. The Hub's immediate family has seen my temper a couple of times over the last 14 years. Very few people know just how angry I can get. I can go from calm to Oh-Hells-No in 3.5 seconds. I have spent the majority of my adult life trying to keep my anger in check and avoid outbursts. If I have an outburst, it's been long overdue and I couldn't keep it in any longer. I try very hard to be kind and calm. I try very hard to stay away from drama or get into heated debates (and this is an election year... you guys are making it difficult to stay out of heated debates. Really folks, just stop talking about it until November.) I have to work at not reacting every time I get angry. I take deep breaths. I'll lock myself in the bathroom and yell at the wall. (Don't worry, the wall can take it.) The Hub will sit with me for hours and listen to me rant. He's a very good listener. He can talk me down off the ledge better than anyone else. My temper is my proverbial cross. I hope you've never seen this side of me and I hope you never will.**

"...don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

Recently, I've noticed that it doesn't take much to make me mad. It's in the air. It seems like everyone has something bothering them. I bet you are ticked about something. If you're not, then think about the people in your life. Chances are, they're pissed off about something. I bet you they're not mad about petty things, either. I bet you it's big stuff like financial problems, health problems, job problems, and/or relationship problems, just to name a few. Big things that take up so much of our patience. Big things that don't go away with deep breaths and counting our blessings. With all this angry energy floating around, it's hard to maintain a calm and cool attitude all the time. The big stuff in my life right now is depleting my patience reserve. I find that I'm getting upset over little things. Stupid things. Trivial things like...

The House

I cleaned the hell out of my house this past month. I was tired of Malcolm Reynolds (the Hub's dog) eating stuff off the floor. I was tired of searching for important documents or someone's left shoe all the time. The playroom was so messy that I couldn't see the carpet. I reached my breaking point and cleaned/organized everything. I challenge anyone to find anything out of place here. Even the junk drawer in the kitchen is organized. The Hub and I have lived in our current place for over five years and this is the neatest it has ever been. There is not a stack of mail or a basket of laundry sitting around. Every closet looks like Martha Stewart beat it into submission. The girls' toys are all neatly stored in bins and on shelves. I worked my disorganized butt off and now my house is a well-oiled machine. Beds are made each morning. Toys are put away each night. Laundry is put away as soon as I fold it. I have successfully removed all clutter and material chaos from my living space. It is so freaking zen in here. The Hub hasn't asked me where anything is in three weeks. It's amazing. All I do now is spot clean and straighten up. I should be so relaxed and calm. I am. Just don't leave a cup in the sink if the dishwasher is empty. Seriously. Just don't. 

Put the cup in the cockadoodie dishwasher. 

Dinner Time:

Meal time is not always fun and enjoyable (as explained here). I spend a great deal of time planning the weekly menu, clipping coupons, surviving the grocery store trip (as described here), finding new recipes that everyone will like, and finally, preparing the meals. After all that, I plate the food and call my darling children to the table. My little cherubs, who have (not so gently) reminded me repeatedly for the last hour that they are starving and how cruel it was of me to forbid a snack before dinner, take one look at the nutritious yet delicious meal set before them and say, "I'm not hungry anymore."

But you said you were hungry!!!

Yoga Time:

I thought it was a good idea to find ways to relax and de-stress. I take the dogs for long walks. I'll jump around with the kids when we feel a bit edgy or cranky with each other. I'll focus on my breathing and zone out for a bit when things get crazy. I really enjoy yoga. I'm no yogi by any means. I have to watch a video to know what I'm doing, but it's one of the few workouts that I actually enjoy from start to finish. A few Saturdays ago, I woke up before the sun came up and pulled out my yoga mat. Even with the dogs sniffing my face and trying to lay down on my mat, I felt focused and energized and relaxed. When my video was over, I made a cup of coffee and let the dogs out in the backyard. I stood on the porch and enjoyed my good energy. I took time to notice the sunlight shining through the leaves of the tulip poplar tree. I heard the birds chirp as they looked for their breakfast. I felt the cool morning breeze on my skin and I was truly happy to be alive and in that moment. My coffee had never tasted better. It was good. Life was good. 

Then the kids woke up and had an epic fight over which cartoon they were going to watch.

Good feeling gone.

I know things will get better. I also know it could be worse, but I don't like to think that way. I am grateful for the good in my life. But, damn it, I think it is okay to have a tantrum every once in a while. I'll serve my time in "time out." I'll sit there and think about how I need to be careful with others and not eat their faces off. I know that it's my responsibility to control my temper and even if I truly believe they deserve a good kick in the teeth, it is not loving to take my anger out on anyone else. I know I need a break. I know I could use a vacation. It's been 8 years since the Hub and I took a vacation. I NEED a vacation. But for now, I'll settle for a cold beer and a long nap.

** If I have unleashed on you in the last month or so, I truly apologize. It was not right of me to verbally tear your face off. But, let's be honest, you probably deserved it. 

A Love Letter to my Kids

Dear kids,

I have read a lot of articles lately about the right way and the wrong way to raise a child. Unfortunately, no one can agree on which way is the right way or the wrong way. So many folks are upset and angry about this. I'm not. Do you know why I'm not jumping on the "my way is better" bandwagon? Love. Love and well... I don't really give a damn what other people think of my parenting techniques. When I look at you, I see smart, talented, kind little people. You both have an eagerness to learn and a Curious George like curiosity about everything. You are funny. The kind of funny that takes astute observation and a quick wit. I'm not sure where you got all these great traits from, but I think it's fair to say your dad and I had something to do with that. I didn't learn how to raise you from a book or using a popular method. I tend to just wing it a lot. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. I've found that no two children are alike so if one thing works for one, it probably won't work for the other... at least that's how it goes with you kids.

Getting back to love.

I try to teach you all that you need to know about life. I remind you to use your manners. I hover over you while you brush your teeth and wash your hands. I put education at the top of your list. Someday, I'll teach you how to drive a car. But, for now, the most important thing I am teaching you is how to love. Not hearts and roses love. That comes later. Way later. Like when you are 30. This love is soulful love. Compassionate and selfless (well, sometimes a little selfish) love. It is kind love. It is tough love. It is respectful love. It is the kind of love that is really hard to act out but even harder to feel sometimes. I'll break it down.

Act in Love:

Everything you do impacts someone else. Everything. It's kinda like that whole butterfly in Asia that causes rain in Ohio (or something like that) theory. Look it up kids. The same thing goes for your actions. If you act in love, other people will feel love. Love begets love. If you act without love, other people will not feel love. No love begets no love. It can be the most grand act of love or a small act of love. For now, I'm just focusing on the small acts. For example:

While brushing your teeth, if you spit toothpaste all over the sink and then do not wipe it up, you are not acting in love. By taking a moment and cleaning up your mess, you are being considerate to your mom and showing her love. I see that you took my time and energy into consideration and saved me from having to chisel dried toothpaste off the sink the next day. In return, I will have more time to laugh and play with you.

Hitting your sister with a Barbie doll is not acting in love. Not to mention, it hurts. After you strike her with a Barbie doll, what does she do? She kicks you out of her room and now you are alone. If you are loving and not so violent, she will allow you to join her in her room. The flip side to that is if you are bossy to your sister, you are not acting in love. She will hit you with a Barbie.

Do little acts of love as much as possible. Help your sister tie her shoe. Turn off the lights when you leave the room. Be good in school. Don't use your hands in anger. Compliment someone. Put your dirty clothes in the hamper.

You can go bigger, too! You can work at an animal shelter or volunteer at a hospital. Give time. Give money. Give effort. Clean up a beach. Raise money for a good cause. Reduce, reuse and recycle. Listen to someone. Take care of someone who is ill. Make someone laugh when they are sad. Get involved in your community. Donate blood.

See? Butterflies make rain... or something.

Defend Love:

When I was growing up with my younger sisters, we fought a lot. We didn't just hit, we eviscerated each other with hateful words. I remember a time or two when blood was drawn. We used each other as scapegoats. Just watch a Tom and Jerry cartoon and you'll get the picture. But, heaven forbid someone outside of the family hurt one of us. We were taught to watch over, protect, and defend each other. I expect you to do the same and not just for your family. Defend other people, animals, and the Earth. I expect you to speak up when you see someone or something being harmed. I don't want you to turn your head if you see any kind of abuse or wrong doing. If you can't stop the situation, tell someone who can. I promise, I will stand behind you every time.

Think Love:

It is not your job to judge others. It doesn't matter if they don't look like you or talk like you. Some people don't believe in what you believe in. Some people don't think about what you think about. Some people just don't think. Some people don't like sushi or hummus as much as you do. (I know that's hard to believe, but it's true.) People may like different kinds of music, art, sports, or books. People have different ways of learning, playing, praying and loving. Instead of judging, ask questions and learn about some one's "something different." Remember to live and let live... love and let love.

P.S.  There are a lot of people out there who point out other people's differences and tell them they are bad for being different from them. Don't listen to those people. Don't take what they say into your heart. They are scared of "different." Be loving and don't judge them either... just don't become one of them, okay?

Love Yourself:

This is always the hardest love for me. Love yourself. There is a fine line between loving yourself and being selfish. Over the years, I've decided that loving yourself is all about honoring the gift that is you.

Love your body. Breathe deep and use your lungs. Play. Use your body. Bend and stretch. Feed it the good stuff. Let it rest. Take the time to maintain your body. It's the only one you have. There are people out there who would love to fully use their bodies but cannot due to illness or birth defect or injury. You have been blessed with your body. Love yourself by taking care of yourself.

Love your mind. Learn as much as you can. Read, read, read, and read some more. Read everything. Read about your history and then read the book that contradicts everything you've just read. Read non-fiction. Read fiction. Read poetry. Read comic books. Read cookbooks. Have as many art books on your coffee table as possible. Never stop collecting children's picture books. Ask questions. Never stop asking questions. Look at everything. Listen closely. Take the time to think about things... anything. EVERYTHING! Take things apart and put them back together again. Don't be afraid to change your mind. You're never too old to learn something new.

Love you as a person. You have every right to be here. You have every right to be you. Stand up for yourself. Stand up for your right to live, love, and learn. If anyone tries to take that away from you, fight like hell. No one on this earth owns you. We are all flesh and bone. We are all made up of the same materials. The only reason powerful people exist is because other people have let them be powerful. We all entered this world the same way and we will all eventually die. Don't let anyone dictate who you are in the time between. You will always find people who want to tell you how to live. But let me be clear. This in no way means you should be disrespectful to people in authority like your parents, teachers, your elders, your future employer, or law enforcement. We are not always right, but we are here to help you learn and keep you safe. If you feel we are wrong, speak up. You have that right. Fight with respect. Fight with love and honor. If you live in love always, you will never be wrong ever. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

I try to be love. I try to act in love. I try to practice what I preach. It is not easy. You kids drive me nuts quite often. You challenge my ability to think straight. You make simple errands difficult with tantrums and not listening to me when I tell you to stop hiding in the clothing racks or running through the store. You do ask questions.... a lot. And I don't always have the answer or the patience to explain my answer after the 5th "why?" But, I try. I try to be a good role model for you. You teach me every day what it means to love. You love me even when I make mistakes. I hope you learn from my mistakes, too. The whole point of being a parent is to raise a better, stronger, smarter, more loving person than you. We should always strive to be better. Be stronger. Be smarter. Be more loving. If you can do that, I have done my job.

Be love.

Love,
Mom