Standing Up To the Bully

*Please note that many of us have been guilty this year of following or believing some biased and unqualified media sources that perpetuated dangerous lies. Much of this is to blame (both our laziness in where we get our news and the sources' propensity to feed the lies) for where we stand right now. That said, all links in this blog post have come from credible sources. The writing and thoughts are all mine. Enjoy.



The day that Trump announced his candidacy for POTUS I laughed. Right along with a majority of Americans who were thinking 'Surely this is a big joke, right?' And we spent the next couple of months fluctuating between guffaws and horrified shock. Surely someone who opened his campaign by calling an entire nation rapists and drug dealers wouldn't get support from enough people to be elected. Someone with no qualifications whatsoever, no public service record, no military record, no higher education.

Oh how wrong we were.

And the ugliness just kept on rolling in. Women, refugees, immigrants, Muslims, Blacks, the disabled, you name it, pretty much every minority group was at the receiving end of his ugly remarks and violent rhetoric.

And we waited to hear about his policies. Sound bytes surfaced that suggested that he was actually fairly liberal—he was pro-choice (yay!) until the day he ran for POTUS (what?!); he used to want to legalize drugs (yeah!); he wanted universal healthcare and an assault weapons ban. You can find the long list of his liberal leanings in this great article. So really, this guys has no values, no real convictions. Sure, people can change, but it's pretty clear that he changed his stances just to get the votes of an apparently gullible base.

So are we right to be scared?

Misogyny reigned in Trump's presidential campaign. Acting like a petty child, he took to Twitter to make inappropriate accusations and deplorable comments about women who dared to stand up to and speak out about him. As if there weren't enough examples of his despicably wretched treatment of women, we were treated to his hot mic recording where he told the whole world that he could sexually abuse women because he was famous. Yup. And the guy who giggled at this was fired from his job immediately. Trump? Not so much. We made him our next President.

Minorities feel they have no place in this country now. If being endorsed by the KKK isn't enough to tell us that his view of Blacks isn't atrocious enough, we can look to his description of Black America—implying that all Blacks live in the inner city, are poor, are violent, pretty much every negative stereotype of an entire group. And well, we all know how he thinks about Hispanic people—with his plans to have Mexico pay for his wall to keep out all of those rapists and drug dealers. Muslims didn't dodge his attacks either. He wants to ban all Muslims from entering the country. Men, women, children—people fleeing dangerous situations, hoping for a better life, just like all of our ancestors (unless you are Native American). Oh, and LGBTQ people? Yeah, their terrified. Trump might pretend to be a friend to their community (even if he doesn't know which direction the rainbow goes), but his VP has one of the worst records for treatment of LGBTQ people with his Religious Freedom Bill in Indiana. For more about Trump's treatment of minorities read this article in the Atlantic.

Then we've got the Supreme Court. Oh yeah, that. I actually saw people saying they'd forget all of Trump's evils in favor of getting a right-leaning judge appointed in Scalia's spot. Never mind that the Republicans in congress have refused (violating the Constitution) to hold hearings on Obama's pick—Merrick Garland, a highly qualified and very moderate upholder of the Constitution, which is what SCOTUS judges are expected to be. They aren't there to uphold one party or the other, but to uphold the Constitution. Even right-leaning media are suggesting that a Trump nominee will be dangerous—pointing to Trump's obvious lack of understanding of the Constitution and disregard for it (he's said he would force the military to commit war crimes, jail journalists who voice negative opinions of him, etc.). Here's a piece of journalistic gold:

"Nonetheless, those who cite the Supreme Court as a compelling reason to vote for Trump are of the befuddling opinion that the same man who has demonstrated willful ignorance of the Constitution, who has promised to subvert the Constitution, and whose dealings with the judiciary demonstrate contempt for the Constitution, is the man who will save it." (http://www.nationalreview.com/article/438669/donald-trumps-supreme-court-trump-card-argument-flawed-hillary-clinton-may-not-be)

There are recommendations that we should revert to a six-justice Supreme Court like it was originally, therefore eliminating the political angling of the court. If Trump were to nominate a justice, we could see the overturning of Roe v. Wade (a huge hit to Women's rights) along with other devastating setbacks.

Best and most ironic of all?  He used to be a big fan of Hillary Clinton (woot!). Oh, but when he was trying to fire up the Republican base he flip flopped again and went low, attacking her health (she had pneumonia), her marriage, deeply personal attacks that went well beyond what we normally see in politics. And his followers loved it.

What can we learn from all this? It's hard to say. He is a lose cannon for sure. No one knows what direction he will go in. He's already started changing positions on some of his campaign promises—sure, all candidates say things they don't follow through on, but the thing with him is that no one knows what he even believes about many of the major issues. So all we can discern for now is that he will be changing his positions and he will likely be influenced by the people he's surrounded himself with. And that's isn't looking too good for us either.

What it all boils down to is that Trump is the bully on the bus, the guy yelling expletives in the face of the handicapped, the poor, the Black person, the Hispanic person, the woman, the child, telling them they aren't worthy, they don't get a seat on his bus—and those who voted for him are either sitting quietly ignoring what's going on, paying no attention to the pain and suffering, the hurt of their fellow human; or worse, they're cheering him on, patting him on the back and joining him in his taunts. The rest of us have to speak up for the bullied ones. We cannot sit by and allow it to happen on our watch.

We can wear safety pins to indicate our safeness to those feeling fearful. We can post signs to our classrooms to let kids know that all are welcome, we can work through various service agencies to help those who are feeling anxious about whether they have a place in Trump's America. We can peacefully protest to let the world know that we are not down with the bullying. We can live by the Methodist motto so loved by Hillary:

“Do all the good you can. By all the means you can. In all the ways you can. In all the places you can. At all the times you can. To all the people you can. As long as ever you can.” (John Wesley)

Here's a great list of ways we can do good, offered in this article from Slate. And we can get involved politically. Volunteer, attend meetings, join groups like Pantsuit Nation, any way you can get involved to help elect good people into office at the midterms in two years and in four years, when hopefully more people have realized that hindsight really is 20/20. 

It's time to tell the bully to sit down, he doesn't get to treat people that way on our watch.

Contentedness and Busyness

Judging from the date stamp on my last post on my blog, I guess I can admit to being overly busy for a while. I have to chuckle at myself every few days when I briefly scan and then promptly delete the emails I receive from bloggers touting the importance of simplifying our lives. I don't have time to read that. Perhaps I should. 
A friend recently posted something about a challenge - going 200 days without buying stuff. It sparked something in me. Lately I have become frustrated with our living of the 'American Dream'. Our peaceful, picture-perfect suburban life, free of real worry or true problems. Yes, I'd love to have another bathroom, a bigger house, an attached garage that our cars would fit in. But that is nothing compared to what most people on our planet worry about. And when I sit down and think about it, I am nothing but content with this life. But it is that contentedness that has been plaguing me lately. There is more to life than finding contentedness, isn't there? I worry that my children will become too sheltered, too entitled, too content in their lives that they will not go on to be the change-makers the world so desperately needs. So how do we balance the strong desire to protect our kids, to give them a 'better life', all while showing them how deeply unfair this world is? I guess we try. We take them on mission trips, we volunteer at FMSC, but is it enough? They always come back to their clean, comfy beds and full tummies at night, with few cares. Will it be enough?
And now back to the busy-ness. How does one strike a balance between the desire to always be helpful, to say yes, to make things better, and the need to cut back to a point where there is time for what is important, for life and kids and adventures?
Does anyone else find that difficult?
A great example of this is the butterfly garden I helped plant with Hannah's girl scout troop when she was in first grade. It is still there, in front of City Hall, and it is terribly overgrown. I now help lead Evie's Brownie troop and while we go there every spring to clean it up and plant the annuals, it is a frequent reminder of how the busy-ness has me spread too thin. I'd love to have that garden in tip-top shape, to keep the Girl Scouts on top of caring for it regularly (to even recall once more which plants are supposed to be where), but it is just one of a bajillion things that I keep saying yes to and time runs out. So it sits. And I feel badly. I suppose I should look into handing that over to someone else. Someone who might have a need for some project to fill their time and desires to be a helper. And maybe that is what needs to happen with a lot of things. 
Sometimes people ask incredulously, "how do you do all that?!" in response to my numerous jobs and volunteer activities. It's not that I am better at anything, in fact maybe it is the opposite. I'm just not good at recognizing the reality of the limits of time. I always think I can add just one more thing and it won't be too bad. But then I am caught up, trying to figure out how to get five people to three different places and in the panic-stricken moments, I lose something precious. I lose the ability to focus on the present (to be content?).

So here is my pact with myself: 
I will intentionally cut down on the busyness, saying no when I can; I will continue to work toward attaining a career that might allow my family to seek out opportunities to live and adventure in this world, not just be consumers of it; 
I will cut back on our buying of 'stuff', while I may not join the 200 days of not buying anything, I will at least force myself to live with more awareness of our consumerism.

The ‘C’ Word

Chores.

There, I said it. One of the great struggles of parenthood. What’s right? How do we approach it? What’s the magic trick to getting the kids to clean up their messes? When will I ever get a break form picking up hair elastics and socks and stepping on legos? Okay, admittedly, I think I have only stepped on a lego once or twice, but you know what I mean, right? How do we win this eternal struggle?

We used the chore chart when the older two were little, sticking the little smiley faced on the board for each job completed. They loved it. They did their jobs. For maybe a week. It was fun and everyone was happy and then it all just fell apart. We got to bed a little late and put off adding the smiley faces or someone pitched a fit at bedtime and it wasn’t worth tackling one more ‘to do’, or maybe they figured out that they didn’t really HAVE to do those jobs, that smiley faces and prizes are just tricks we use to make them do what WE want. I can’t remember why that attempt failed exactly, but I’m pretty sure you can relate.

I’ve explained to them the whole idea of ‘putting it away when you’re done with it’ and how that actually makes your life easier. But they are kids and that just doesn’t resonate. They don’t care. And the thing is, neither did I when I was their age. Did anything my mom did actually work? Has anyone ever found that magic touch that fixed this problem? Positive reinforcement only gets you so far. “Hey, I love how you put those markers away when you were done with them!!”… two days later there are plastic animals strewn around, puzzles decorating the floor, school work and coloring pages scattered, and a mess of discarded articles of clothing all over the house. Nope. They did not get the message that when you put things away mommy is happy. But should they care? Is our happiness a reason to play psychological games with our kids to coerce them into doing something that almost everyone universally hates doing?

We’ve tried the weekly house-cleaning routine. Saturday morning ‘no cartoons on the computer until your rooms are clean’ doesn’t work so well when they decide that they’d rather play or make breakfast than watch anything anyway. Assigning jobs works well enough, but it’s never pretty. Especially with a particularly fierce 5 year old in this house. There are some jobs she will do happily - helping empty the dishwasher or matching socks. But she shares a room with her big sister and there is never a moment of peace when room cleaning is required; “I cleaned up all of MY stuff, the rest if HERS. NO YOU DIDN’T!!! THAT’S NOT MINE!! MOMMY!!! SHE’S NOT HELPING ME!!! Mom, I cleaned up all of her stuff (big sigh).” If you have kids sharing a room, you can picture that, I’m sure.

It gets to a point where I sometimes would rather that everyone else just leave the house and let me do the job myself.

But then my kids would grow up to be irresponsible and reckless and lazy and all kinds of bad stuff, right?

So what do we do?

I am opposed to paying kids for chores because I believe that taking care of the house is just part of being a family member. Yet, I will admit that recently I have been giving more thought to the idea. I stop myself when I realize that it is just one more grasp at getting things to work the way I want them to and it might last a good month or so before no one cares about making money anymore, especially if they realize that they don’t really have to do the chores because Christmas is coming and they’ll get spoiled anyway. Or something like that. (alternate rewards are just another version of money, it’s all currency and it only lasts so long until they are done with that one too)

Is it unrealistic to think that kids will ever take responsibility for cleaning up after themselves and around themselves? Is that just a part of childhood that we as parents need to accept and deal with by trying over and over again all the repeatedly failed attempts at making them clean up? Do we have to resign ourselves to the notion that we brought them into this world, we have to clean up after them for a certain amount of time until they are ready to take over?

The idea of scaffolding comes to mind here. In teaching it is talked about a lot - you give a child just the right amount of support to help them learn something and ultimately become independent in completing the task at hand. Doing a chore together so that you can talk them through how to do it can be time well spent and eventually they will learn to do things like run a load of laundry, but that never seems to apply to ‘just cleaning up your stuff’.

I have tried leaving everything where it is and waiting to see when the other members of my house will notice what a mrs things are and by about 8 days I get twitchy and just have to start cleaning up. And none of them EVER noticed. Which makes me think that it is really just me who cares about cleanliness and order in the house. So why am I fighting a losing battle that is apparently more about me and my needs than it is about them and their shortcomings?

A good friend shared a story about his son, who had been a life-long slob and when they went to visit him at college, he asked his parents to please take off their shoes because he had just cleaned!

So maybe it does all sink in eventually. It just takes 18 years of madness to get there. Keep on keeping on, parents. It is all worth it in the end.

Why, Mommy?

My daughter saw the teachers starting to gather yesterday evening and begged to go over and stand with them. She had her jacket and shoes on and was out the door before I could even answer her. That is how I came to stand with all three kids, the older ones holding the ‘I Love Geneva Teachers’ sign and the youngest begging me to help her jump up and down as she cheered and made silly faces for the teachers.
Have we politicized our kids? Maybe. Hopefully we have taught them to think for themselves (I think this may have worked since Hannah recently told me that if a Republican were a better person, we should vote for them). Ask Evie who we are going to vote for and she screams, “OBAMA!!!!”. Eli recently impressed a high school kid because he knows who our vice president is. They ask a lot of questions and it keeps us thinking and checking and learning all the time. It helps me to always be clear on why it is I vote the way I do and support the causes I support.
If I could remember all the questions they have asked to challenge my political leanings I would write them all down and answer them. Here are the biggies:
They want to know why we support the teachers. Well, my first thought was, how do parents answer this question of their children if they do not support the teachers? For me it was easy. We support the teachers because they are professionals who work hard and deserve to be compensated fairly in a manner competitive with their peers in the local area. We support the teachers because we want our kids to have high quality teachers throughout their school years. We support the teachers because I have yet to hear anyone give a good reason not to. The district has not said that they are in such a tight financial position that they will have to lay off teachers or cut programs if the teachers do not accept the board’s offer. People point to other districts that took one year pay freezes a few years back. They did that because they had just asked for and received significant raises and their districts WERE going to have to cut positions if they did not take a freeze.
They want to know why we are Democrats. I was an independent voter when I was in college and was still figuring out where I stood on the issues, and the more I learned, the more I read, the more Jeremy and I talked together about politics, the more I saw that the Democratic party stands for and believes in the things that I hold to be important in life. Freedom, equality, human rights, being our brother’s keeper. But more than that, it was the people I knew who I respected greatly, the people who were hard working and honest people who inspired me to want to vote as a Democrat. I’m not saying that the people I know and love who are Republican voters are not worthy of respect, but I’ve never been able to understand that party’s reasoning. When I hear Democrats speaking up about why they support their party, they talk about all the things their party can do and will do for people. When I hear Republicans talk about why they support their party, I hear anger and distrust of the Democrats, but not anything inspiring to make one want to lean to the right. And I have seen how things go under both sides, when the country is doing great and when things tank, and quite honestly, I think that the Democrats and their interest in the day to day lives of everyday Americans have the right idea. I like that Obama does not believe that ‘corporations are people, my friends’. I admire his courage in standing up for the rights, basic human rights of gays and lesbians. I appreciate that Democrats understand that women are still not treated as fairly as they deserve to be treated and that they work to improve that. I am glad that they value education and respect teachers, knowing that there is always room for improvement but that it needs to be done in a cooperative way, not a bullying way. I am relieved that the Democratic party trusts science and scientific evidence, you don’t hear many of them (any?) claiming that global warming is not real. It is much easier to have faith in a party who believes in science because doing so makes no political gain for them whereas we know exactly what political gain there is to be had form a party that continually sides with big oil. Big money. Sure, Democrats make mistakes, and as Hannah pointed out, if the Republican on the ticket were the better person to vote for, we should. But the way the party’s are standing right now, I am proud to stand by the Democrats.
There is another thing that bothers me and no one has been able to answer this - it is about the anger on the right. Our car was egged last night. On Halloween our yard signs were ripped up and kicked over, our jack-o-lanterns were taken and smashed a block away. A week or so before that, our yard signs were mysteriously removed from our yard but found placed on our front steps. I am assuming this was done by kids. But clearly not by kids whose parents support the teachers or Obama or Martha Hanna or Dennis Anderson or Corrine Pierog. My kids are enthusiastic Obama supporters and know that we support the teachers, but they also know (and don’t give me the, ‘well, you’re just a good mom' lines) that we are respectful to all people, no matter who they support. So why is it ok for people on the right to say things like ‘let’s put the white back in the white house’ and even worse things that have been said? Why is that tolerated? Because I watch and read a LOT of things that support Obama and the worst that I have heard are jokes about Romney’s lies and flip-flopping. I know that both sides have not played ‘nicely’, it is politics after all. But I care about niceness and decency. That does not make me naive. It is something that matters, it is something that people around the world want to see in our country, NEED to see in our country that can often come across as rude and conceited. So how do I explain to my kids why people who disagree with us vandalize our property? After having this happen so many times, I think that they too have come to the realization that I have, it’s good to be on the good, the decent, the honest side of history.

Wear Blue

While sharing my frustration with the current goings-on with our school district this morning, a friend leveled with me and suggested that maybe I need to move. She is worried that I am too unhappy here. And while I would certainly agree that living in a different climate, maybe a more affordable community, maybe just a change would be nice. Golly, getting on a plane about now and going on a real vacation would be fantastic! It won’t solve anything or take care of the fire that is left burning in my gut.
You see, the teachers in our district have been asked to take a hard freeze for a year, followed by two more years of incremental adjustments of various types that lower their salaries. [I stand corrected. I had previously stated that teachers were in the third year of a three year contract. This is not true. I misunderstood what was presented. Their contract ended in August. They were and are negotiating for a new contract. The new contract the board is offering involves paying teachers the rate that was agreed on for the third year of the previous contract (last year).] But the school board is hearing from other folks that the tax base wants the teachers to take a pay freeze and cut back even more on their benefits, etc. Despite lots of money being available for other large projects, all of a sudden, there is no money to honor the teachers’ contract.
That is the really brief version.
Geneva has really good schools and really good teachers. People move to Geneva for the schools. And then they don’t want to pay the teachers? I get it, none of us likes to pay much or more, we like to get things for cheap, get a great deal, a sale even. And yes, some people are still feeling the effects of the poor economy and think that teachers ought to as well. The problem with this thinking when applied to teachers is that you will not attract quality teachers if you are not offering a competitive salary. My husband’s district is highly competitive and even they have many good teachers who leave for better paying districts. He has seen a large number of his fellow teachers move away for better pay. Who wouldn’t? In any profession, people want to improve. We should want our schools to strive for the top, not become a district who ceases the hiring of highly qualified teachers simply because they cost more.
It has been pointed out that some teachers in Geneva make really good money. I won’t argue with that. If you look at a teacher who has a masters degree plus 30 more continuing education credits or a doctorate degree AND they have been teaching for 20+ years, they are going to be paid quite a bit of money. They have earned that. Just like in any other profession where you further your education and constantly work to improve your skill set. (Here is an interesting link to compare teacher contact time and pay around the world) I would hope that anyone arguing with this realizes that in most other professions, the ability to move up the ladder is much greater in the private sector, but having something similar in the teaching profession is of benefit to us as a society - saying that we value those people who invest their lives in the teaching of our kids.
And yes, I’d agree that the system is in need of adjustments and maintenance. The revamping or cutting of teacher tenure is on the tables all over the country and will no doubt be here soon. Basing teacher retention and pay on student performance is also becoming popular. Both of these ideas have their merits but need to be proceeded with cautiously, so as not to disrupt collaboration and camaraderie. But none of this is being discussed right now. I’m sure it will be here in the future; and as a teacher myself, I’m pretty much okay with these ideas.
The concern now is that of whether the contract that was agreed upon two years ago is honored for its final year, or that there is only money for the things and not for the people. (Here is a good source for answers to some common concerns about teacher compensation)
I respect the board (I even really like some of them!). I know their job is hard. I also (now) realize that they are basing their decisions on those voices that they hear the most. So unless they hear from those of us who support the quality teachers our kids have (October 22 at Coultrap - wear blue!), the assumption is made by our absence.
Please don’t assume that I don’t like Geneva because I speak up about these things. I care deeply (maybe too much?). I owe it to my kids to care about their future. While I would absolutely love to move to Oregon or New Zealand or Massachusetts someday, it just isn’t practical for us now. Traveling would be nice.

Colors! Trying to make our old house ‘new’.

Maybe it is hard to see these colors on the pictures I posted earlier today. The 'Paper Bag’ (Ace) color that we ended up with last week really looks purple when you are in the room. Our lighting is odd, so some corners are darker than others but it is generally well-lit. Most are preferring the Kingsport Grey color. Meditation has a green cast to it that might look ok, but is not jumping out as a favorite for anyone. On these color samples Thunder does look like a shade lighter than the Kingsport Grey, but in the room it looks much more silvery grey, almost too silver to go well with our oak floors. Of course, you know how it is in an old house. Now I am looking at the floors, thinking, “it is probably about time to have them refinished so maybe if we have a darker stain on the floors, the Thunder would look great!” But, back in reality-land, that just is not happening soon. Neither is buying all new furniture, which is also on my mental list for that room (having the large sofa, while lovely for snuggling on for a movie, means that the large floor register is beginning to sag where one of the sofa’s corners is resting on it somewhat precariously). The entertainment cupboard is admittedly too large for the space and the color is a bit reddish/orangish, so I don’t think it will go well with a true grey. So now I am scoping craigslist for an actual corner entertainment unit. Something a little smaller? I’d love to make this room feel new.
Is it because we have lived here for over 6 years? The longest I’ve ever been in one place in my life? Rejuvenation is a must at this point (which reminds me, I have not been on that site in a while… hmm..)! So there is a patch of new color in the downstairs bathroom (shhhh.., Jer has not found that one yet! I’ll just paint it while he is at work, haha!). I have a new color picked out for the kitchen, and in my dreams I have the kitchen remodeled as well (seriously folks, the undulating floor with beat up linoleum and formica countertops is getting to me). Of course, that all means that I need a job. Which I have begun applying for. I applied for a few part time gigs in the Geneva schools but apparently they have about a thousand applicants for each position and I don’t have any strings to pull, so I am not hopeful. There is a maternity leave posted that would start in January - how sweet that would be. If only.
Back to the house. I’ve also gone through and counted switch plates and outlet covers (most of them cracked, all of the cheapest white plastic variety) to tally up what that would cost (you’d be surprised!). I even found a place that sells replacement registers for the old-school vents we have - at $60-70 a piece. Yow! Oh, and then there is the issue of all the broken and missing screens. I am not even sure I want to know what they run.
I’m thinking I’ll keep my focus on the downstairs for a while because if I even think about the upstairs, well there is the issue of our room being so small that we have to stack our dressers and I don’t get a ‘my side of the bed’, just a wall (Jer loves it when I stay awake longer than him to read and he still has to roll over to put my book away and turn out the light - NOT!). And the fact that with five people in our home, including an almost ten year old, having just one shower is not a joy most days.
We did successfully replace the front door handle and lock last weekend - that was a major challenge! The old lock was one of those ancient things that involves a 5”x8”x1” piece that fit INTO the door, plus about three more holes than what the new piece needed - can we say ‘patch job’? Of course, it now looks fabulous and now our old door knocker (wedding gift 13 years ago) is corroded and looks less-than-lovely next to the new door bling.
It sure does feel good to pick up a paint roller and make our space look new, even if we know the truth. So I am leaning strongly in the direction of the Kingsport Grey right now. I will wait to see what the different lighting throughout the day does to the colors before buying another $70+ worth of paint this time, though!
After all that whining, I have to say, I do love our home, I am thankful every day that we live in such a beautiful town with wonderful neighbors who make it fun. For now I don’t mind that the kids sometimes shower together to make it faster (Eli and Evie like to gargle in the shower together, it is pretty funny), or that I have to stand on the end of my bed to see into my sock and underwear drawer. Home IS where your heart is and someday I will find a teaching job that will work for our family and will make all my dreams come true for our humble home.
**Hint: if anyone is thinking of Christmas gifts, might I suggest home-store/hardware store gift cards? LOL

Heaven on Earth

Heaven on earth. It was referenced in the sermon we heard this past weekend and I just could not get it out of my mind. As we enter the over-heated political season, where religion plays a key role (go ahead, try denying that), I have to wonder: how often do we really think about God’s vision for his creation? Call me naive, but I’m pretty sure that the best signal we have as to God’s plan for this creation of his was his Son. You know, the peace-loving, sinner befriending, “if you have two, give one away”, hippie dude. The one with the long hair (in the pictures we saw in Sunday school anyway). That guy. He was our model. So when I see fellow Christians standing up for gun ownership and discrimination against fellow humans for any reason, I have to wonder: what Jesus stories did you hear in Sunday school? Clearly we heard different stories. It pains me to see Christianity held up and represented by those who would have us all armed and ready to kill, those who would have us deny the rights and privileges of others just because they do something that we think is icky (go ahead, check your Bible, Jesus never spoke about homosexuality), who would have us let the wealthiest keep the two (million) coats they have and not make an attempt to spread wealth more equitably. As a liberal Christian is hurts my soul every time I see obvious slander, blatant lies being leveled at leaders who are doing things that display at the very least a sense of equality and justice. I cringe when I see and hear stories of “religious” leaders condemning government actions that seek to make life easier for those who have a much harder time than most of us. The new healthcare laws have made a significant difference that I have already witnessed for some of my students who will now have a better chance of breastfeeding their babies longer because they can get the supplies and help they need. Sure, nothing is perfect, but I sometimes feel like people who identify themselves as being conservatives slam things like this just for the mere satisfaction of putting down the liberals, not because they actually know the costs and benefits of these laws.
Oh yes, I’m going to go there with guns too. I know that this is a heated one. “But it is our constitutional right!”. Sure, whatever. Back then when there were no automatic/semiautomatic weapons and it was a militia being armed to protect the union, not individuals going on ignorant killing sprees. You’ve got to be kidding me. These guns are made to kill people. Have your hunting rifles, I’m fine with that. I would never choose to use one, but that is my personal choice. The facts are there, in countries like England where firearms are banned, yes, some crazy people still get ahold of them and they had a total of 43 deaths in a year. Compared with our tens of thousands. This one is a no-brainer. And am I wrong here, how many ‘crazy left-wing liberals’ have been responsible for mass-murders? Just sayin’. I know, that sounds like I’m saying that conservative people are violent. No, not all, but there is something in that conservative hype that breeds violence. All it takes is a lack of knowledge and you end up with someone killing the most innocent and peace-loving people in their own place of worship.
I do not think that politicians or people who call themselves conservative are bad/evil/mean/etc. I tend to agree with Anne Frank - that all people are good at heart. It is the actions, the words that are spoken, the choices made that reflect the idea of what a person’s priorities are, who or what is important to them and how decisions will be made that give an idea as to whether they are working toward something that resembles heaven on earth.
So my quandary then is this - how is it that the right, the conservatives, get to ‘claim’ God for their side?
And why do we have to come to this? The lies, the meanness of it all. If we are Christ-followers, shouldn’t we be loving our brothers and sisters* and doing what we can to provide for their safety and their needs? Isn’t there a beautiful logic in that?
Yes, politics is an ugly business and there is nothing worse than mixing politics and family or friends when people disagree. I both love and hate the political season. I love that we get a choice and we get to be involved. I like being involved. So I will post political stuff. I try to discriminate and be tasteful. I know that I have many family and friends who stand on the other side. I will never stop trying to persuade people to join me on the liberal side. Sometimes I feel like the zebra in Madagascar, trying to bring people to my side, the fun side, the side where we have cute little umbrellas in our drinks. It is a challenge, a competition, a game, but in the end, it affects our lives and the lives of all Americans, so we should really look deep within, and if ours is a life modeled after Christ, we should ask ourselves, "what would Jesus do?” What would heaven on earth look like?

*and by loving, I don’t mean paying lip service and turning around and working to make sure they don’t share the same rights, privileges and quality of life as the rest of us.

Readiness

The question arose again recently about what we are going to do with Evie about kindergarten. She is a September birthday, which if we make no effort would mean that she would have two more years before entering kindergarten, shortly before turning 6. She has already completed one year of preschool, so if we were to do that, she would have had three years of preschool before starting kindergarten. 

For some reason, having this discussion always means that everyone present feels they should have a say in what we decide is best for our child. Never mind that we are the ones who spend every hours of every day with her (and seriously, folks, we have degrees and experience in psychology and education between us). People are highly opinionated about what the ‘right’ thing is to do. I completely understand that feeling. I feel the same way about birth - but most of the time I find a way to bite my tongue when I know that my input is not desired. So what are the issues here? And is there a right answer??

More than anything, I find it ridiculous that a child who had a due date very close to our own but was forcibly induced for non-medical reasons (a whole different story) - and therefore suffers all the known delays of babies brought out too early - will be starting kindergarten with no questions asked. Besides those children who were premature, whether by choice or necessity, if we evaluated every child on entry to kindergarten, how many would actually meet the criteria that someone with a September birthday will be asked to meet in order to enter? Every class will ALWAYS have a youngest child. There will ALWAYS be kids who are not emotionally ready for kindergarten, yet they go anyway and no one asks their parents for any evidence or puts those children through any amount of testing in order to start.

If we desire to go forward and attempt to have her admitted a year early (really only a few weeks early), we will be required to pay $600-800 for private testing; we will have to present these scores to the building principal, who then gets to make the decision regardless of the outcomes of the evaluation.

I do plan on pointing out that she is a third child, and therefore has been working hard to ‘keep up’ with her siblings, surpassing milestones at a faster pace than other children might. Not only that, but they have the school records for our older two children. Records that show that their parents are involved and care about their success, or at least that they are hard-working and intelligent kids. Sure, siblings could be different, but for some odd reason, our three are very similar when it comes to their drive to achieve. That is something that we as parents know that outsiders may not understand. 

It did occur to me that the building principal has other interests when making this kind of decision. Namely that in our current educational climate, she has to consider how this would affect the testing scores that now effect the passing or failing of her school. In light of this, I can see how it has become such an ordeal to bend the guidelines. Given another year, perhaps she would raise the test scores even more. And that is a decision that the principal gets to make. Not that I begrudge this position at all, but knowing where they are coming from when making a decision that ultimately effects my child more than the school as a whole, I do not think this is a justifiable reason.

People love to point out that she would not be driving when her friends are and other social issues. I know we are pretty far away form this time but like I said earlier, there will ALWAYS be kids who are last to get their driving license. Oh, and we live across the street from the high school, so I really don’t think her friends will be teasing her because she does not drive to school. I have heard that being on the other end can be just as tough when your younger peers are demanding rides form you and asking you to buy them cigarettes just because you are old enough to and they aren’t. For girls, there is the whole bodily development issue, a big issue to be sure. Having myself been 11 years old when I got my period, I would rather my daughter be in middle school than elementary school when dealing with this time of change. Girls who get 'held back’ or end up as the oldest in their grade have to face the awkwardness of developing well ahead of their classmates which can have just as much (if not more) of a negative impact on their emotional state as the opposite would have.

So really, you can’t win and it is ridiculous to say that anyone other than a group of people with an interest in one child’s future (parents, preschool teachers, and the building principal) should be making this decision.

Or we could just move to Michigan and start her there since their cut-off is December.

Oh, the Clutter!

I was not a tidy child. In fact, my older sister got so frustrated with my messes that she would clean up after me! But then I grew up. I went to boarding school where our drawers were inspected every Saturday morning and if our underwear was not neatly folded, we were not allowed to leave for the two hours of freedom given us each week. And then I was on my own and had no one to clean up after me. Maybe I had become accustomed to having clean spaces, having never known anything else. Whatever the reason, I became a tidy adult. I often recall Jeremy’s uncle Doug laughing at my organization of my junk drawer (I still reorganize it sometimes, thinking of him laughing from heaven).
So it bothers me that childhood involves so much clutter. And I don’t mean the toys. I love the toys, sometimes more than the kids do. What I am talking about is the unnecessary STUFF. The birthday party favors that are bought because ‘you HAVE to have favors’; the endless papers that come home from school; the weekly deluge of stuff made in Sunday School. THEY DON’T NEED IT!!! Any kids would be happy enough to just be at a party and walk away with happy memories, a belly full of cake and an awesome sugar high. There are favors that are not just junk - my sister just gave the kids at her son’s party a little canvas bag full of up-cycled crayons and notepads with an applesauce crusher - she’s a genius  (and a pediatric nurse practitioner). One party my son went to, all the kids got one of those cool bubble wands. Loved it! But the plastic made-in-china garbage stuff has got to end. It makes me nuts!
Then there is all the school clutter. The endless papers and crafts. I want the to keep some memories of their childhood but when they can make a foot-high pile of paper at the end of each week, it is out of control!!! Thankfully Hannah and Eli have become pretty good at pitching papers into recycling (often times now without me even seeing it, so hopefully I don’t miss something important). That is just the worksheets. Then there is the stuff that is supposed to be meaningful, the craft projects, the Sunday School projects. I know that learning requires some hands-on activity but when I have every surface of my house covered in ‘meaningful’ crafts, something has got to go! I don’t think it is enough to say that parents ought to just make up their own minds about what to keep and what to pitch. That is not fair. I worry that someone will come to me with a crumpled piece of art one day and tears in their eyes because their work was not valued. Can’t we please find other ways to make meaning? I mean think about it - someone, some organization spent their money buying the supplies to make whatever this is. Often times, someone has put in hours of work cutting out pieces of the finished article for each child in the class. Then the kids spend ten minutes throwing it together and they bring it home. It may sit on a counter for a few days but eventually someone has to ask, ‘is it okay to throw this out now?’. And that person feels like a jerk, knowing how much time and effort (and a bit of money too) went into making it.
So please, please, can we stop this ridiculous trend? Can we let kids have lessons that don’t involve making STUFF? I think they’d learn every bit as much and even more.

Paper Airplanes and the Holy Spirit

I’ve flown a lot in my life. I think I was a week old when I rode in a plane for the first time. A little Cessna. My parents and sister and I had to fly to another town to get our groceries when we lived in the highlands of PNG. In high school, I flew home to PNG from Australia at every term break, totaling sixteen flights a year for four years.
I know that some people are terribly scared of flying. I was never terribly scared, but I will not say that I never worried. When I did worry, I would close my eyes and picture the hand of God, holding our plane and guiding it to its destination.
Jeremy and I were shepherding the second grade class this morning and the lesson they were being taught was about the Holy Spirit. And paper airplanes.
After this past week, I figured I needed this as much as they did. A neighbor in his last days, a former co-worker (can you call them that when it was student teaching??) with potentially bad news about his cancer, and family friends dying in a plane crash and leaving behind three daughters who are just entering adulthood. As well as the more trivial, yet ever present, worries about kids and money and daily ‘stuff’.
I was not at all surprised when the second graders replied that they did not know what the Holy Spirit was. But I was pleasantly amazed at the beauty of this lesson.
The children were lined up and given a piece of paper and told to throw it. What a disappointment, the papers all fluttered to the floor. This symbolized us trying to go about our lives without paying attention to the directions we are given through Christ. Then they were told to fold the paper once, and again, and one last time, never more instruction than just to fold it. Each time they added a fold, they got to throw it and see what happened. Each time a disappointment. Just because the Holy Spirit is with us does not mean that we get to stand by and do nothing and still expect everything.
The kids were then given step by step instructions to make their own ‘Holy Spirit Flyer’. They were thrilled to see the planes take shape and then could hardly wait to fly them.
Isn’t that something like parenting? We are amazed as we watch our children grow into their own person and then at some point, we let them ‘fly’ off on their own.
Now the kids lined up and took turns throwing their planes. And as seven year old boys will do, the jokes about crashing began. The connection sunk in immediately and I wanted to shut my eyes, to block out their words, to stop imagining that dear sweet couple and their last moments as their plane’s engine blew up, sending them plummeting to the earth with one final explosion. But then I caught myself and began to piece it together. Was not the same Holy Spirit with them in their final moments? God’s hand was still with them, it just continued to carry them away, up to Heaven as their plane dropped away. They were good, kind, generous people who raised kind and loving daughters.
While my heart aches for all the suffering of those around me, I have found a bit more peace today, knowing that that very same hand of God that I pictured so long ago is with us all as we fly, whether literally or metaphorically. I just pray that I can live as he taught, follow his instructions, and help to bring some of that peace to other people’s lives.

And Now What?

In early December I got word that my doula certification was official. Two weeks later, I finished my student teaching - the end of my master’s degree program. While I am still teaching my natural birth classes, co-leading Girl Scouts, and volunteering with Sunday School, I was worried that I would be bored.  
Not to worry! I had forgotten that I had signed up (out of Mommy-guilt) to put together Hannah’s class quilt and volunteered to teach an Art Explorers lesson for her class as well. Oh, and the house has a number of projects that are long-overdue for attention. I managed to attack both kids’ rooms and do a clean-sweep for outgrown clothes and ‘stuff’. And now that I bought that nice fabric to make the quilt and I have some left over, I’m thinking of making some clothes and accessories for the girls. And there is that scarf I started knitting for Eli. And the book I’m supposed to be reading for my book club (which I’m hosting). Guess I won’t be bored.
It is funny how, for the past half year, I had built up this long list in my head of everything I was going to do when I was done with student teaching. I managed to grossly over-estimate how much could actually get done in a day (or week)!
I had also forgotten how nice it is to have lunch with Evie. We both like to sit in the sunlight at the end of the table at lunch time and soak up the warmth as we eat. I always joke about having a nap, hoping that one day she will humor her mama and cave in. No such luck so far.
I had applied for a half-time teaching position at a nearby school but I think it was filled before my application even got in. I’m not too worried. It would be nice to earn some money to refill the empty coffers after paying for grad school. But as my wise younger sister said, “it is just money and we have each other.” She is right. Evie will never be three again.
So for now, I will continue to teach natural birth classes and hopefully get some doula clients so that we can plan our summer trip. And I will marvel at how blessed I am.

The Lord Giveth and The Lord Taketh Away

Wednesday morning, I held the foot of a mother as she pushed her newborn son into the world. Thursday evening, I held the hand of my husband’s Grandma as she passed away. There was crying both days. Tears of joy and tears of pain at both. It is the natural ebb and flow of life.

In what was some amazing timing (or perhaps a mama and baby who were really wanting me there as their support) the baby came five days after his due date, the day after I returned home from vacation. Leaving on the baby’s due date was very hard for me as I had really hoped to be at the birth to support this family that I had come to know, not to mention complete the requirements for my birth doula certification. I hoped and prayed throughout our vacation, believing it impossible, that this baby would wait. And he did.

The labor and birth were perfect, classic second baby labor with very speedy pushing and birth. Everything went as it should with no complications. But birth is never a ‘blah’ event, no matter how textbook it is. There are moments of self-doubt, of anger even at having to go through such a struggle to bring this new life into being. And then there are moments of incredible joy, when the baby is placed lovingly on the mother and all is known to be well. When the tears of relief and wonder escape the eyes of all present.

Gram’s passing was similar in a way. She was 93, she had lived a long and richly blessed life. She passed her driving test almost a year ago and was still getting about mostly on her own only months ago despite her repeated wonderment at when it would be her turn to go. She knew her race was nearly done, she was at peace with going on to meet the Lord (she even quoted her mother, saying “Jesus doesn’t want me and the devil won’t take me”). She fell and broke her hip two months ago and recovered well from the surgery, even walking a bit right before returning to her own condo a few weeks ago.

But it was her time. In the last three weeks her congestive heart failure progressed more rapidly and she was unable to get comfortable rest at night. She still wore her beautifully radiant smile when we visited her only three weeks ago, she lit up when she saw the children. But we could tell that the end was nearing and she was struggling more and more each day.

On Thursday evening, Jeremy got home from work and I had dinner packed up to eat in the car. We had talked with his parents and knew that we needed to go and say our goodbyes. When we arrived his mother met us and told us we had just made it. Gram’s breathing was very labored and her breaths were few and far between. It picked up as we talked and as she listened to her other grandchildren talking to her on the phone.

Evie sat with grandma on the bed pulled up next to GG as Jeremy and I held her hands. Hannah and Eli came in to hold her hands and say goodbye and then Hannah made a friendship bracelet for GG. We put the bracelet on next to Gram’s rosary and Hannah started working on another behind me on the bed. Evie and Grandma moved to the floor to play with stuffed animals and conversation turned to the birth I had attended the day before.

As we talked, Gram’s breathing slowed more and more and then stopped. Mom looked up from where she and Evie were playing, noticing and came to Gram’s side. Aunt Peggy also came over from where she had been sitting and hugged her mother. There were tears. I sent Hannah to the living room and gave Gram one last kiss.

Then I found Hannah, GG Rosebud, in a puddle of tears.

Life, even when it goes as we know it should, is not easy. I guess that is good, but man it hurts. We moved here with the purpose of raising our children close to their family. I wanted my kids to know what I never felt I had - to have relatives at all their birthdays and all the holidays and even the in between days. Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, and by God’s amazing grace, two Great Grandmas that they would grow up knowing and then live their lives with the wonderful memories of them. And we have that at a cost. The cost of true sorrow over the loss of a loved one.

My own Grandpa died when I was six years old. I knew him and loved him but I had also spent a large part of my life very far away from him. I remember when he died. I remember my Mom being very sad but I also remember thinking that there was something wrong with me because I was not as sad as she was.

A year ago last week, my own Grandmother passed away. We had the fortune of being with her to say goodbye two days before she passed. I felt a different kind of sorrow at her passing, more a sense of wishing that I had gotten to know her better. I did have some great memories of times spent with her and her old cabin in Marquette marks the one place in this world that I truly feel connected to (being the one place I have returned to repeatedly in my life since I was a baby).

Gram Jennings I will miss more in the everyday. I had the good fortune of getting to know her well over the past fourteen years since Jeremy and I were engaged. I have always been impressed with her sense of style and her generously loving spirit. She made the best lemon cream angel food cake (which I tried making and failed miserably at - I’ll have to work on that). St. Patrick’s day has always been celebrated with corned beef and cabbage since I met her and I love it (being a non-red meat eating person these days I still allow myself some corned beef on St Paddy’s day). I have always loved that she likes silver as much as I do, she got the kids beautiful silver baby rattles. I loved that she loved my kids and enjoyed watching her eyes light up when the kids came to visit. I know they are going to miss the games of hide and seek they always played at her condo. All the family festivities will be a little less without her. One less place at the table for Christmas and Thanksgiving and birthdays and just plain old family get togethers.

So there are tears of sadness. And perhaps there should be tears of joy. Joy that she is finally in heaven where she so badly wanted to be for the past few months. The joy of her passing from this life on earth on to her eternal home, something like the joy of a baby being born.  Once the baby is born, the mother begins her worrying, "is he cold? hungry? wet? hurt?". And now our worrying over Gram is done but our sadness remains.

It is as it should be, just not easy.

My Ideal School

I am a fantastical idealist. I believe that everything can be done better and that there is always room for improvement and that maybe, perhaps I could be the one to do it.

Having almost finished my masters degree in education, my head is full of the latest and greatest teaching methodologies and theories, some of which are in use around the world and led to greater successes than what we see in our own public education system. Things as mundane as ‘what do the kids sit on?’ cross my mind regularly (form what I know about our natural physical state, I cannot stand to see children made to sit in seats all day - an exercise ball would be so much better and more natural for their bodies - as would getting up and moving more)!

Make no mistake, I know that we are blessed with some pretty darn good schools where we live, but that is not enough to stop a dreamer from dreaming!

So what would my ideal school look like?

It would be situated near the river and near an open park with natural spaces for exploration and hands on learning. The children would wear uniforms (yes, I did just say that). The building(s) would have windows that open and stay open on all pleasant days. The school would have a garden that is tended by the kids and that provides food for the lunches. School days and annual calendars would be made to work with families - slightly longer days that start a little later and longer school years that have more long breaks within them, similar to the year around schedule. There would be a pool and tennis courts and basket ball hoops and fields for more sports.

And these are just the visual trimmings. The meat of the school comes from the approach to learning and assessment. Teaching would be student-centered with more choice available to students in their learning and more flexibility in assessments, allowing for an individualized education that allows and encourages each child to reach their fullest potential. No cookie cutter test driven learning here, thank you very much!

Oh! I almost forgot, kids would be allowed time to wash their hands before lunch at a long trough-sink that would run down the hallway leading to the cafeteria.

Teachers would be respected as professionals and would have onsite childcare and preschool available for their young ones with time allowances for breastfeeding moms so that returning to work is not wracked with guilt but with pride.

Experts in al areas would be consulted in an ongoing basis to keep the school running at maximum potential and serving families in the best and most honest and straightforward way, keeping communication open to allow for constant improvements.

Students would interact with the world and use technologies to stay abreast of current trends in society - using new technologies to forge international learning communities that support one another and sharing students work in a way that connects them to their parents (imagine being able to see a poem your kid just wrote while you are at work!) and with other learners (think shared subject area blogging about current learning).

The possibilities are endless!!

Someday, someday.

For now, I am preparing to student teach in the fifth grade and hope that I can use some of this enthusiasm to get my students excited to continue learning where they are headed - the terrifying halls of middle school!

Tot at the Wheel

I was recently telling someone this story and though I should write it down for posterity.

When I was about 2 years old and we were living in the Southern Highlands of Papua New Guinea, my dad had flown somewhere and while we waited for his plane to return, my mom and sister and I were visiting our friends at the Catholic station on the top of a mountain. Mom was talking with Father Hans while my older sister and I were playing around, running in and out of the house.

Now, you have to understand that out in the bush where we were, there were not many vehicles and even fewer people who could drive one, so everyone who had a car occasionally left their keys in the ignition.

So I am told that I heard and then ran out to confirm by sighting my dad’s plane coming in for landing at the air strip. I ran in to tell my mom and she must have, in good mommy fashion, said something like, “okay, just a minute,” and resumed finishing her conversation. being impatient, I ran out the our Suzuki jeep that had it’s doors off and jumped right up on the driver’s seat. Did I call my sister to come join me, or did she just run with me, I don’t know. But at any rate, she jumped in the passenger side and was holding on to the roof with her feet on the seat and her rear end hanging out a bit. Which was probably a good thing because I turned the key in the ignition and the jeep began rolling backwards down the mountain.

At that point my mom and Father Hans must have come running form the house and one of them managed to pull my sister out of the side while the other tried to pry me out. Did I put up a fight, not wanting to get out of my sweet ride? Maybe. Somehow, I must have fallen for a brief moment so that my legs were under the jeep and the wheels were rolling toward me. Someone pulled me to safety and stopped the car only inches from a large rainforest tree.

Whew!

Maybe this was just another day on the mission field for my parents.

They say that your earliest memories are usually traumatic events that your brain stores with whatever language you have available at the time. So when I was five years old and woke up from a dream about an airplane rolling over my legs, my mom put it together and told me this story.

Crazy. But that is my life and there are plenty more where that one came from.

Twelve Years - Already???

As my facebook page has so kindly reminded me, our anniversary will be this coming Sunday. June 26th. And this will be our twelfth. I know it is cliche to say ‘where has the time gone?’ or ‘it seems like just yesterday!’. Sorry, but it does! I overheard a friend recently telling someone that he always jokes that he and his wife have been married for thirteen years, nine of them happily. The fact that we have a child who will be turning nine this year startles me every time I am reminded. I know some people thought we were married too young and had children too young but we don’t regret a thing. Sure, we have disagreements like anyone else. I know I’m no walk in the park to live with (just ask anyone in my house the day after I have cleaned!). And yes, it might have been nice to have been more financially stable at times (like now, LOL) but what is romance without a few kinks to work out?

You want a good story? I think our story is pretty good. (of course I’m biased)

It all started on a.... Okay, I don’t even really know. I know it was a park around Detroit called Greenfield Village or something like that. There are some pictures somewhere. Anyway, the reason I don’t remember is that I was a couple months old. Jeremy was five years old. He had a baby brother who was a few months older than me who was colicky. So the story goes that Jeremy told his mom repeatedly in the following days that, “that Martha baby is such a good baby, that Martha baby doesn’t cry.”

At that time, my parents were serving as missionaries in Papua New Guinea. Our parents had met when my Dad was serving his vicarage year at their church the year that Jeremy was born, so when we were on furlough, it was a good chance to catch up with old friends. While we were in PNG, Jeremy’s parents would send us care packages with toys and books (when studying children’s literature in college I went home for Christmas and brought back some of my favorite childhood books only to open them and find inscriptions written to Jeremy in the fronts of several!).

But back to the childhood years. When I was seven my family moved to Chicago for my Dad to work on his PhD at the U of C. This meant we got to visit with the Paschkes more often and I developed a schoolgirl crush on Jeremy. Of course, he was 12 or thirteen at the time and he was way too cool to pay attention to an obnoxious little girl in pigtails chasing him around. He does vaguely recall someone chasing him with water balloons at a church picnic. Yup, that was me! I thought he was dreamy with his braces and his big smile, looking so cool as he headed off to baseball games or band practice when we were visiting for dinner.

Then we headed back to PNG for two years. The next time we returned I was twelve and something about moving so frequently gave me the boldness needed to send a letter to Jeremy after we visited them on our way through town. I was in seventh grade and he was a senior in high school who had a girlfriend but he actually wrote back to me. Of course I was heartbroken to learn that he had a girlfriend but I loved reading his letters and loved that he cared enough to write to me so we continued writing. For six years.

Yes, you read that right. What started out as friendly notes back and forth grew into love letters over the course of six years. I was in boarding school in Australia for most of that time and checking my mailbox at the end of the school day was the best part of my day. When I had a letter, it made my day. I would grab it and run to my room and lay on my bed to read his letter even before changing out of my uniform.

My senior year in high school, Jeremy finished college a semester early and came to Australia to study for a year. He arrived when our family was on summer vacation in Cairns, so we got to enjoy my favorite waterfalls and some time together before we went back to our respective schools. Even though he was still sixteen hours away by car (which neither of us had then anyway) he could call me! I remember being in one of the classroom buildings studying on a weekend day when I heard a few of my friends running from the dorms, screaming my name - Jeremy had called (the dorm had one phone at the end of the hall that people could receive calls on). Girls intentionally walked past me several times to eavesdrop on our conversation. So imagine the excitement in the dorm when he actually came to visit once! My house mistress had come to trust me over the three year I had already been there and since he was written down as a family friend who had been approved of by my parents for visiting, she was much more lenient with our visiting. We sat on the steps or Ross Roy, the grand old building that stood at the top of the hill near our dorms to talk one afternoon and a few of my friends tiptoed past to catch sight of my dreamboat boyfriend that I had talked so much about. Then we were allowed to go into the city on the weekend for a few hours (which was pretty much unheard of for our boarding school, so all those years of good behavior paid off!). We walked around the city a bit and enjoyed a picnic lunch before he had to get me back.

Then a stroke of luck - I won an essay contest that sent me to Sydney as a part of the Youth Futures Forum, a national forum that drew youth form all over Australia to talk about how we envisioned the future of the country (I felt like a bit of a cheat, not really being Australian) and it happened to be held at the same time that Jeremy and his parents were visiting Sydney! So when my conference was over, they picked me up and I got to be a tourist in the country I had already lived in for three years. We saw the zoo and rode the water taxis and saw the famous beaches and even caught a show at the opera house. It was amazing! I do recall having that madly-in-love-inability-to chew-and-swallow feeling the whole time and when I boarded my plane back to Brisbane I sobbed like a baby. That Martha baby does cry.

After finishing high school, my family returned to the States and after a half year of working I started college at St Olaf in Minnesota. Jeremy came up to the Twin Cities to study physics at the U of M and one fall day when I took the shuttle bus to the city to visit him, we ate dinner and then he got down on one knee and proposed marriage.

I arrived back at my dorm that night flushed with excitement and after calculating the time difference, I called my best friend who was in a boarding school in Taiwan and asked if she would be my maid of honor. The plans were beginning!

Our engagement lasted almost two years but the wedding day seemed to arrive before I knew it! We were married at my Dad’s church in southeastern Indiana on a very hot June 26th. At our rehearsal dinner the night before, his uncles brought a pig out on a spit and a platter of yams as a continuation of the joke our parents had had about bride-price, which was the custom in PNG.

I woke up on our wedding day with monster-sized butterflies in my stomach. My Dad made me some tea and ran to get something to settle my stomach. The day is a blur of happy memories - I know I cried as I said my vows - I had dreamed of this day for so long it was hard to believe it was happening. I remember it drizzled as we arrived at the reception site and I insisted that the photographer still take some outdoor pictures. I remember his brothers carrying me on their shoulders around the reception hall. I remember all our friends and relatives that were a part of the day. His friends decorated our car but most of it washed off in the drizzle during the reception. I remember my Dad speaking during the reception and playing old tapes of the two of us talking when we were little. There was so much laughter and joy that night.

That outpouring of joy and love from family and friends at our wedding has sustained us through these twelve years as we moved and started our family and as we continue to grow. Sure, we have our spats, we have our days like everyone else but there are a few things I am sure of in life and one of them is that Jeremy and I were meant to be. I still feel like that giddy school girl when I think of how much I love him. Yes, he turns laundry pink sometimes but that makes him human - so that I can get past the flittering stomach of first love and be able to chew and swallow in his presence.

As testament to what our twelve years has brought us - three kids and an over-commitment to our local community - I am only now finishing this piece that I started three weeks ago. As I hear about marriages failing and unfaithful spouses and unhappy wives I know that I am truly blessed to have by my side a man that never leaves me in doubt and whose love I can always count on. Of course it is much more than that. Words do not do justice to the deep and abiding love that you know cannot be broken when you have your soulmate by your side. So here’s to another twelve years and more!

My Secret to ‘Good’ Kids

I was enjoying a conversation with another Mom at the pool last night when she said she really had to leave and added apologetically, that it might get ugly since she would have to drag her daughter out kicking and screaming. I tried to share my secret with her and figured I would share it with all of you too.

Here it is - my kids are not necessarily ‘better’ than anyone else’s although I do (blush) receive lots of compliments on their behavior. I’ve just been sneaky in how I manage those ‘unwanted’ behaviors. You know, the whining, fighting, complaining etc. Which is not to say that they never do it, but I think we are on to something in our house so I want to share it.

1. Whining - especially at stores - the “I want that” “so-and-so has that, why can’t I?” etc. that are frequently encountered in retail settings. Since they were very young, I have kept up an Amazon wishlist for each of them. Whenever something is desired we simply write it down or remember it and add it to the wishlist when we get home. (you’d be amazed how often the must-have item is quickly forgotten) As for grocery store meltdowns over specific commercial items and candies, the remedy was simple. We only shop at Trader Joes. Not only has it been less expensive and healthier for our family, but there are no cartoon characters wielding their trance-like powers over my kids. Oh, and we don’t have TV, so they have not seen the commercials for all this junk anyway.

2. Fighting. Oh No You Did Not Just Hurt Your Sibling! This is a big one for me, any kind of hurtful behavior is stopped immediately. If at home, they are removed from the house to the back step since this behavior is not acceptable in our house. Of course I stand nearby on the inside to watch them and when they are brought back in they are reminded that hurting people is just not an option and they need to apologize ("say it like you mean it" never really works, does it? a muttered and shamed apology is fine). Usually just a quick disapproving look and a reminder that what happened was not okay is sufficient for minor infractions.

3. Complaining. This brings me to the pool incident. Evie HATES leaving the pool. The first time I experienced her strong reaction to my telling her we had to go I froze. It took me a few minutes to gather myself and figure out my strategy - “Hey Evie, if you complain about leaving now, we won’t be able to come back because it won’t be fun for Mommy.” Amazingly, this two and a half year old had the logic skills to figure out the ramifications of continuing her tantrum. My hunch is that all kids are smarter than we give them credit for and most of the time we can appeal to their logic and get great results. This applies to a wealth of situations. Complaining about not having anything to do? Okay, I’ll take your computer for a week. Don’t like the food? You have to try it, not finish but at least try it so that you can be honest in your description of why you don’t like it.

So last night as another little girl was being hauled out of the pool kicking and screaming, Evie whimpered, I whispered this in her ear, she took a deep breath and held my hand to walk out of the pool. Ah, now we all had a fun night and will look forward to returning for another swim!

Praising God on a Beautiful Day

Most of you who know me, know that I am an ‘MK’, a ‘PK’, a regular church-goer and so on. But if you really know me, you also know that I am not very open about my faith. I often feel that my faith is not really up to snuff for someone with the ‘churchy’ credentials I have. I don’t do daily devotions, my Biblical knowledge is sorely lacking, I do not like to pray out loud other than our mealtime prayers and I get uncomfortable when talk of religion becomes anything more than intellectual conversation. So it may surprise some of you as much as it surprised me that today a hymn just popped into my head. And I could not shake it.

We were leaving the pool on our bikes and this hymn started playing in my head. As I started going over the lyrics to myself, I realized that it was quite perfect. The day had been quite perfect. The house was clean, laundry done, Jeremy had gotten some work done but was home in time to enjoy lunch with us on the patio. The kids had enjoyed playing outside some more (well, minus Evie who is going through a spat with insects). The weather was perfection - blue skies with big fluffy white clouds blowing by, right around the mid-70s to almost 80 degrees, not humid, just perfect. I was ready to teach my class which is my real passion. Life is good. I have a new nephew whom I absolutely adore, who is a miraculous gift from God. Siblings that I love, parents who are continuing their phenomenal parenting as fabulous grandparents. Grad school classes are all done, student teaching is coming up and then a diploma, another achievement that will open up life to more experiences, more challenges, more joy. Doula certification is in the works, allowing me to be present and assist couples in that exhilarating experience of becoming a family. We are blessed beyond measure with good fortune in our lives, how could I not be amazingly joyful? Something within me, perhaps my inner ‘PK’ busted out with a hymn that captured the moment perfectly:

Praise to the Lord, the Almighty

1. Praise to the Lord,
The Almighty, the King of creation!
O my soul, praise Him,
For He is thy health and salvation!
All ye who hear,
Now to His temple draw near;
Praise Him in glad adoration.

2. Praise to the Lord,
Who over all things so wondrously reigneth,
Shelters thee under His wings,
Yea, so gently sustaineth!
Hast thou not seen
How all your longings have been
Granted in what He ordaineth?

3. Praise to the Lord,
Who doth prosper thy work and defend thee;
Surely His goodness
And mercy here daily attend thee.
Ponder anew
What the Almighty can do,
If with His love He befriend thee.

4. Praise to the Lord,
O let all that is in me adore Him!
All that hath life and breath,
Come now with praises before Him.
Let the Amen
Sound from His people again, Gladly for aye we adore Him.

For all the contemporary Christian music there is, and I love most of it, there is something about these old hymns, maybe it is that my body can feel the surge of the organ and the tingling feeling I get from experiencing the joining of so many voices, whatever it is, there is something about it that makes it so special that it is what played in my heart in a moment of incredible joy. What an incredible blessing from above this day, and all that it contained, has been!

the single most important societal problem of our day

If I had to say what the single most important societal problem of our day is I would say it is the ‘disconnect’. Funny, we think we are so ‘connected’ with all our technology but in reality we have become increasingly disconnected from everything that is important in life – the people closest to us, the environment around us, and even our own selves.

We think that having the new hot phone will help us stay connected to everything and everyone but we use it as a distraction tool, something to occupy time. Instead of making a connection with the person sitting next to us outside our daughter’s ballet class we check our emails and browse the internet.

I would not even say that it is the fault of the technology we use so much as the choices we are making. Mobile phones are great for many situations. It is not the devices but the users who seem to have lost touch, or disconnected from those around them.

We have disconnected ourselves from the earth and air that surrounds us, we hide inside out of fear or laziness and fail to make a real connection with nature. Maybe this makes it easier to go on using plastic bags and driving gas-guzzling high-pollution vehicles – if we don’t see the beauty that we are destroying through our own daily choices we don’t have to feel bad about what we do.

We also disconnect from our own being, from our physical body through not paying attention to aches and pains and reactions to certain foods that may be causing us more ill than good, and from our spiritual self constant worry about the future and keeping up with the Jones’ rather than being fully present in experiencing the joy in each fleeting moment.

Staying connected to others, to the space around us and to our innermost being is something that takes effort. It requires of us something more than most are willing to give but the payoff is so much greater than we could ever expect – the hug from an understanding friend, the tranquility of sitting peacefully, watching the waves crash on the shore, the incredible peace you can experience when you know that you have made positive decisions that will make not only your own, but someone else’s life a little bit better. That is why regaining the lost connection is worth the effort.

Rewards

I spent the day today creating what I hope will solve all behavior issues in this house. Cool. I bet you want to know what it is, huh?

Well, I started thinking last week when I went to a home party where a behavior reward system was offered for sale. It was jars with marbles, similar to what my daughter’s second grade teacher does in her classroom - you do good, you get a marble. Once the marble jar is full, you pick a prize. Basically the carrot idea.

Now, having a degree in psychology and almost a degree in education I know that reward systems are used frequently and I also know that they are the cause of great debate. There are several great books out there that explain in detail why reward systems don’t really work. Alfie Kohn’s book, 'Punished By Rewards’ is the one that comes to mind first.

"Kohn, the author of other iconoclastic books, among them You Know What They Say: The Truth About Popular Beliefs ( LJ 8/90), here shows how rewards of all sorts undermine our efforts to teach students, manage workers, and raise children. Although aimed at a general audience, the book is based on extensive research and documented with almost 100 pages of notes and references. The first six review the behaviorist tradition and lay out in a clear and convincing manner Kohn's central argument that "pop behaviorism" is dangerously prevalent in our society. Here Kohn discusses why rewards, including praise, fail to promote lasting behavior change or enhance performance and frequently make things worse. The remaining six chapters examine the effect of rewards and alternatives to them in companies, schools, and the home. Recommended for all types of libraries.

- Mary Chatfield, Angelo State Univ., San Angelo, Tex.
Copyright 1993 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.”

Knowing all of this has not stopped me from using rewards at all with my own children, it is really hard not to. It usually works very well with young children, they love to get a sticker or a lollipop or watch a movie. Rewards can be easy to come up with. So it is very tempting to fall into a trap of always relying on them. I’ll admit that I used rewards with my kids for potty training, although I think I did this more so with the last one. I know the first two kids got a big prize when they went for a week with no accidents, they never got something for each time they went potty. I had seen a friend attempt this and her kid trained himself to let out a little bit at a time in order to rack up the prizes - I’m sure that is not good for a kid physically! I used a random rewards system instead, a reward was given maybe every five or ten times. I often forgot to give one and there was no arguing (worth it just for that!). The final prize was something picked by the child as a celebration of their accomplishments, something they were proud to pick out. not to say this is the way to go, but it did work for us.

It has been a while since the older kids have had any sort of chart for their responsibilities. They had one when they were in preschool and all it entailed was placing a smiley-faced magnet under each task they completed that day before bedtime. There were no prizes that I can remember, but they were excited to see that they had filled in all their smiles.

Recently we revisited the idea of a chore chart in order to keep the kids on task for what they need to be doing each day without my having to scream it at them repeatedly. Every Mom out there knows what I mean. “Seriously, it is almost spring break of your second year of school and you still need to be reminded to wash your hands when you get home???!!!” I have tried to use Dr. Driekurs suggestion of the natural consequence - “If you don’t hurry up, you’ll miss the bus and you WILL be walking today!!!” (his idea is that you make the kids walk just once, with you driving alongside to make sure they are safe, to teach them the idea of why it is important to get themselves ready in the morning). It is a wonderful idea but when I look at my precious little blue-eyed-pouting-lipped little boy I just cannot bring myself to so it.

I saw an article posted on my facebook page about gentle parenting and why gentle parents do not use rewards and punishments. I want to be a gentle parent. I feel that we are gentle parents in many ways with our kids so I immediately decided I had to change the plan. Doing a marble jar was not going to be our thing. I can just picture myself, taunting them with the marbles in hopes of getting them to win the prize because I don’t want to see them not get it. It would get ugly. Just as ugly as having no system.

Instead I went and bought four small wooden plaques and one larger one. I talked with the kids at breakfast and we agreed that a self-assessment system would be our goal. I am in the middle of painting the four signs with our house rules/responsibilities - “Be Helpful” “Be Responsible” “Be Honest” and “Be Kind”. The fifth plaque has the days of the week and each child’s name. They will be responsible for honestly recording how they did each day on the four rules/responsibilities. A smile means “I did great and feel good about this”; a frown means “I know I messed this up today but I will try to do better tomorrow” and a straight lipped mouth will mean “I did some good and some not so good today”. I’m sure there will be days when being honest is too hard, but that is yet another good lesson to be learned.

There may be a surprise movie or dinner out every once in a while when weeks have been particularly good, to let them know how much we appreciate their efforts and recognize that it is not easy.

Sure, we will have to spend a lot of time talking about these values and what things in our daily life are encompassed by each one but I think this will be a good thing and ought to get much discussion anyway. Instead of holding the carrot out in front of them and using the stick when they veer off the course, they will know why they are on the course and what they need to do to stay on it.

Lofty goals, I know. I’ll let you know how it goes. So far today it went pretty well. There was discussion of what needed to get done rather than orders being barked. It felt good for a change and I hope it can stick.

(while I was writing this, Jeremy was watching this: