Conversation Gone Wild....

I grew up in a generation and a family in particular that had rules about what could be discussed openly. Many topics were, or at least seemed to be, off limits. It was never OK to share anything that happens in the bathroom and certainly no one talked about what happens in the bedroom. I don't know if these were imaginary rules of my own making or if I just picked up on them as I went along. I'm just telling you how it felt.

I know that my mom did want me to have good information about sex, for example. In fact, I still have a book that she gave me about How You Got to Be You or something like that. I don't remember her giving me the book...if she handed it to me and said, "Read this and let me know if you have any questions." Perhaps she did. I'll give her the benefit of the doubt because she was, and is, a great mom all things considered.

One thing I did feel is that I already knew more than I thought my mom thought I knew, if that makes any sense. I'm not sure if she thought that she was my only source of information and so if it wasn't something she had told me I was in the dark. Particularly in my teenage years I can feel the eye rolls coming on as she tried to give me warnings or instruction or whatever she felt I needed, and believe me, I did need all of those...it just seemed so uncomfortable because there was not an openness to talk about any of it.

Men, you can check out right now as I give a distinctively female example of the lack of communication about all things bodily related. No really, go ahead and skip to the next paragraph. OK, now that they are gone, let me tell you this super embarrassing fact. When I got my period, I made my own pads out of toilet paper for months before asking my mom for feminine hygiene products. I remember laying out one summer at my grandparents pond refusing to get in the water past my knees because I did not want my toilet paper pad to disintegrate in the water. I think back on that now and I almost feel sad that I was so scared to ask my own mom for maxi-pads.

OK, hopefully any male readers have done themselves a favor and heeded my warning. Thanks if you did. If you didn't, I'm sorry. Anyway, at some point I rebelled against the secrecy and became probably too blunt about things and have allowed my big mouth to get me in trouble countless times. Fast forward to motherhood and now I'm trying to figure out how to make sure my kids feel comfortable talking about absolutely anything.

The problem with this is that I have boys. They do not seem to have any hang ups about sharing anything bodily related. I may have created monsters.

So yesterday after Rex's 7 year physical, I'm giving him the lecture about this being the only acceptable time to let another person handle his privates and we talk about how some people might seem to be nice, but they might just be nice to take advantage of kids. And I'm trying to use proper terminology and discourage the slang that he has so aptly picked up in public school and the conversation is going swimmingly until I think, "Wait a minute. It's not true. There are other appropriate times for such behaviors..." and before I can put a lid on it I say, "Well, someday it will be appropriate for your wife to touch them."

Why? Why on earth would I say such a thing to a 7-year old? Oh, but it's too late. It's out there and I can't undo it. But the why comes from everything I just explained about how I was raised and do not want my kids to feel that this is a closed conversation and that they are not allowed to ask questions about this stuff. Or that they were not given the right information. (She said no one ever is allowed to touch them--she lied to me!)

So he asks, "Did you have to do that mom?"

"Um, no, I don't have a wife." (Lame, lame, lame! I am in so much trouble now.)

"No, I mean, did you have to touch your husband's privates?"

"Uhhhh....."

It's too late now, I have to be honest.

"Well, yes, but I don't really feel comfortable talking about it right now. Let's talk about something else. What specials do you have at school today?"

And I've done it. I've closed the door and made it clear, "This is not something we talk about." Now I know how it happens. Door closed...and rightly so.

I'm sure if I really thought about it, I could give many examples of conversations gone wild in our house because my reaction to my upbringing is to swing the pendulum to the opposite direction. I have not found the balance and so I pray for grace that can cover over the multitude of parenting mistakes I make.

A Tribute to My Secret Admiral on His Birthday

People say you will just "know" when you meet the right person to marry. I did have that moment when I knew, but I wanted to make sure that I knew because I was coming into the thing with a not-so-stellar track record of relationships or any kind of positive family example of marriage. The fact that he stuck around long enough to win this drama queen is tribute enough.

Believe me, I tried to sabotage the thing, but he never took the bait. That was different. Then we did have some real life drama of our own making, but through the whole thing he never wavered. He did the right thing. He sacrificed his plans. He did not play games, though I tried to drag him into many. He faithfully stuck by and let his overly emotional girl ride her own roller coaster. He was always waiting for me when I was ready to get off.

There was early talk of marriage and I once shared my fears with his parents. "I just don't want to wake up one day and ask myself, 'Why did I marry YOU?'" They laughed and said it would likely happen no matter who I married.

Maybe that day will come, but it hasn't yet. Because I know exactly why I married this man.

...his humility. I have married a man who does not rest on his laurels or recount the glory days. Instead, he digs in to the present and pours himself out for others.

...his priority is his family. He is certainly capable of climbing the ladder, but he doesn't because he wants to be there for us.

...his quiet confidence. For someone who can blab, blab, blab all day and have no idea what I'm even talking about, this is the best quality I could have in a husband. When he says something, he has thought it through. Oh the calm security we have because the man in our home exudes quiet confidence!

...his servant heart. This man asks me regularly if I need him to do anything for me. If he doesn't ask it is because he has seen something I need and has started doing it.

...his willingness to take risks. I used to think that his steady nature and love for the Mid-West would become boring, but we have been trying new things all along. Not everything has worked out the way we planned, but that leads me to my next thing...

...his unwillingness to wallow in defeat. Were it not his determination to move forward, I would probably be in a pit of despair somewhere. Instead, he pulls me along and doesn't let me throw pity parties.

...his unwavering belief in God's goodness. Just when I think that his silence means lack of faith, he reminds me that God has always taken care of us and will not let us down now.

These are some of the things I treasure most in my Secret Admiral. (Perhaps one day I will write our story for those who haven't heard it.) My respect for him grows each year and I know now, like I knew then that I could never live without him.

Happy Birthday Bo.

Black Friday--Love it or Hate it?

I have been asked more than once in the last few days about whether or not I am planning a Black Friday shopping trip. I confess that I have never gone shopping during hours when I normally sleep. Have I mentioned that I need a full 8 hours or I will turn into the world's largest cranky mama? The whole watching accidents happen outside the bedroom window incident this week has nearly wrecked me.

My dental hygienist actually admitted that she still goes shopping on Black Friday despite the fact that her grandma was trampled one year. As in, rushed to the hospital in an ambulance bleeding trampled. Yeah, still totally worth it according to her.

I guess I don't really get it. Maybe I'm irresponsible and don't understand what a great savings you can get by camping out all night at the store and fighting fellow shoppers for great buys. Maybe I don't really need anything that bad that I feel good about trampling grandmas.

Another friend seems to just like the thrill of it. Again, I don't know how thrilling it can be to wait in line for hours to save $50 on a laptop so I truly don't mean to judge. Perhaps I should try it. I guess I still enjoy the thrill of sleeping through the night after years of children ruining my slumber. It could take years for me to get over the beauty of a good night's sleep.

So I can't offer an opinion just yet. I might love it if I tried it, but I actually hate the idea of it. Does that count as a vote for "hate it"?

Respect--The "R" in SCORE

Our definition of Respect is treating others how you want to be treated. It’s obeying the golden rule. This is what we expect from all of the boys and girls in our league from how they treat coaches, fellow players, officials, parents and the facilities we have the privilege of using. Respect is acknowledging that everyone we come in contact with deserves to be treated with dignity.

Tommy Lasorda has said, “I’ve learned that the only way to get respect from people is to give them respect.” How true this is. Have you ever tried to teach your kids how to be respectful by screaming at them? If you haven’t, take it from me and don’t even bother. It doesn’t work. Some of the hardest parenting moments come when we have to choose to respond to our child with respect when their behavior is not worthy of it. It is in those moments when I have to remember that their innate value as a human being is what makes them worthy of respect and if they are to learn how to be respectful to others, they need to see it in practice.

One of the best ways to show respect to our kids is to really listen to them.

I am so guilty of giving my kids half of my attention as I juggle work, household tasks, phone calls, email and the ever distracting time warp called facebook. I am reluctant to admit that at least one of my children have asked me, “What is more important: facebook or your kids?” On the surface the answer is obvious, but why would my kids have to ask that question if they didn’t feel threatened by this competitor vying for my time and attention. Sometimes they rattle on about things while I mumble, “uh huh,” without having truly heard anything they’ve said. No wonder they turn into disrespectful urchins, cranking up the volume and whine factor in their requests.

Showing respect is actually harder than it looks because we have to respond in the right way regardless of how we feel. It takes a measure of discipline, sacrifice and self-control to truly develop a character of respect. If it were easy, we would not need to emphasize it in our homes, our schools (one of the top 3 rules at Ralston Elementary Schools!) and our basketball league.

Thanks for helping us emphasize Respect this week with our kids!

Accidents Happen...Sometimes right outside your bedroom window

Screeeeeeeeeeeech....boom!

I was startled awake at 1:08 am to the sound of squealing tires and crunching metal.

In a fog, I think, "Did a drunk driver take out our utility box again? No, the electricity is still on."

A minute later I am on the phone with the 911 operator. "I live at the Ponderosa Pointe Apartments on 72nd St. and there has been an accident."

"Did you see the accident?," the operator asks.

"No, I just heard it."

They are getting other calls and sending help.

I still do not see the accident, only a car on the side of the road with its hazard lights on. When I go back to my room I begin getting dressed. Bo is up and sees that there are two cars right outside our bedroom window and they are a tangled mess of metal and shattered glass. Two other cars have stopped. Someone has approached one of the vehicles and is talking to the victim. She is not getting out but is conscious and seems OK.

I pull my jeans from yesterday and grab some slip on boots.

Bo is giving me a play by play. The girl in the other car has gotten out, did something in the trunk and is walking away. You could call it fleeing only she is very calm.

Screeeeeeeeeeech....CRUNCH!

"Holy crap," Bo says. "The police car just hit the car with the girl in it."

The Douglas County Sheriff is the first responder and boy is he sorry about that now I'll bet. He is busy looking on the other side of the road at the parked cars and completely misses the fact that the accident is right in front of him. Boom. Hitting one of the cars he jumps the median and is now facing the wrong direction on the opposite side of the street. The siren is still blaring.

Now it's chaos. Screaming. A woman with a baby is standing there freaking out.

Many more police vehicles arrive now....the Omaha fire department...An ambulance. I am dressed, but I have nothing to offer that isn't already there. Instead I pray out loud for everyone involved. I thank God for all of the emergency responders who are dealing with every aspect of the situation in a matter of minutes. Police are questioning witnesses. The blue car lady has been retrieved with her hands behind her back. The Sheriff is trying to explain how he ended up in the accident he was supposed to be helping with. The girl in the car is out and taken away by ambulance. A Hazmat truck comes to start cleaning up. The witnesses get in their cars and drive away.

It is almost 2 am now. Bo looks over and asks if I had been sleeping in my jeans. "No," I say, "I was going to run out there, but I don't think they need me." I take my jeans back off and crawl into bed.

We lay in bed watching the flashing lights bounce off our walls through the curtain cracks. I wonder if I will ever be able to fall back asleep, but I have to sleep...I am the guest reader at school and might not be able to handle a simple children's book if I pull an all-nighter.

I am vaguely aware that they are loading the demolished vehicles to haul them away. I don't look, you can tell by the scraping metal sound. I must have dozed off eventually because I was startled awake by the alarm clock. I wanted just a few more hours of sleep, but the thought of hearing about our accident on the early morning news was enough to shake me out of bed early enough.

The news report was vague. They didn't tell us anything we didn't know. We had seen it ourselves.

If I look like a I need a nap it's because I had a brief moment of almost going to help someone in the middle of the night. Aside from that little Sheriff car smashing incident, I'm sure they are glad there are actual professionals who are dedicated to that role since they were there before I could even get pants on.

This really happened last night. I didn't make it up, though I do have a wild imagination sometimes. It turns out that I have no lack of material to write about. Happy Monday!

They Make You Do That?

One of the factors in my decision to step down from my job at Christ Community is a change that happened this summer in my other job as Resident Manager at our apartment complex. When I first started with Dana Mann, the job was completely overwhelming. There were so many vacancies it was ridiculous and every apartment we turned over was a mess. Both boys were home full time that summer and it was a really difficult adjustment back to work even though I was working from home.

In order to keep up with the demands, Dana gave me permission to have our hired laborer help with cleaning and general labor around the buildings. Once our apartments were full the job really became so much more manageable, especially since the boys were in school. So when I was offered a part time job at church I felt that it could work with my schedule. I knew summer would be a challenge because that's when apartments turn over and the boys are home, but during the school year it was a perfect fit.

Well, after 3 years of having extra help, our company decided to let our laborer go. This really pained me for many different reasons. First of all, I really liked him a great deal as a person. I had even taken gifts to a family member of his when I traveled to Peru last year. He was a really nice person and a hard worker. The other reason was that I knew he would not be replaced and that the many hours of help he helped me each week would now fall on my shoulders since those duties were in fact part of my job description. Sigh.

So now I am doing those things myself that were so easy to delegate...cleaning hallways, entryways, laundry rooms & apartments. I'm happy to do it since it is my job, but let me tell you I see now that having help was one of those many graces I was talking about in my earlier post. I never could have done both without it. This fall as I was trying to get used to the change I really felt that I could not do both responsibilities well and that one needed to go.

There was a part of me that wanted to consider taking on more hours in ministry and abandoning my apartment manager gig. Roy had to stay home sick one day and that cured me of that. I truly love being at home and we are not at a stage yet where I am not needed at home. So though I don't bound out of bed every morning to joyfully pick up after people, I know that my life is not that hard and I am thankful to have a choice about where to work.

One of our residents saw me vacuuming the hallways the other day and with surprise in his voice he said, "They make YOU do that?"

I replied, "Well, no one makes me do anything. They hired me with the understanding that I would do it. They gave me grace for a few years by hiring extra help, but this is my job and it's not that hard so I'm happy to do it."

He answered, "Oh, well I'll be careful not to litter now that I know you are the one who does it."

I thanked him, although I really wanted to lecture him about not littering no matter who is responsible for cleaning hallways. That's a whole different issue. Bo told me not to get started on that one since he probably just didn't think about what he was saying. Deep breath. Letting it go.

One thing I can see now is that I have a completely different attitude about work than when I first started. I really did have a hard time with the idea of doing menial work and picking up after people. I was kind of mad about it actually and I did feel that it was beneath me. It's true, I am a spoiled ivy-league brat. I would compare myself to my peers who were executive VPs of lahdeedahdeedah whatever and I felt like a loser picking up cigarette butts and scrubbing ovens. I'm probably not over it completely, however, the joy I experiencing in serving my neighbors and doing whatever needs to be done to make this place "a diamond in the rough," as one resident called it, is exactly what I needed to experience.

And I remember that no one makes me do this. It is a privilege to be home with my kids and to be surrounded by people who really need to be loved and served in a way that is different than what the rest of the world offers. I am an imperfect servant to be sure, but I am working on it.

Why Daily?

I'm already feeling the pressure 3 days in. I mean, why this relentless commitment to publish something on my blog every day?

Here's why I made this decision:

1. I am a lazy person.

2. I need a deadline to finish things.

3. I want to become a better writer.

4. Writing takes practice.

First let's address issue #1. Laziness. Sometimes I call it being easily distracted. Sometimes I call it being tired. Sometimes I call it being busy. Let me just tell it like it is: I have a lazy streak. At 35 years of age, I think it's time to address it.

Here's what I've noticed though--I am quite a mover and shaker when I have a deadline (issue #2). Usually I wait until I'm up against it to start moving and shaking (sometimes I call it procrastination) but then I am a model of activity and effort.

Because of issue #3, I have decided to give myself a deadline so that I will regularly focus and diligently practice my art (#4).

I have been inspired by the book Linchpin by Seth Godin. In it he quotes Steve Jobs who said, "Real artists ship." What that means is that when working on our product, at some point we have to declare it good enough and "ship" the thing. I can't tell you how many times I have had an idea of something to write about but never sit down and do it because I don't think I'll have enough time to develop it well enough. It's that perfectionist inside saying "Anything that's worth doing is worth doing well." (so if you can't do it well don't even bother!)

So this is me "shipping." This is me staring my perfectionism in the face and saying, "Anything that's worth doing will bring me joy and satisfaction even if it is not the best I could do. Some effort is better than no effort."