Category Archives: Only the Long

Long Posts

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Great Benefits and The Best Pension Plan

I have just spent the last two weekends with my daughter learning how to weave, knit and crochet with metal.  My daughter even learned how to use an acetylene torch – with the eagle eye of the instructor watching her while my eagle eyes were fiercely averted.  I felt no need to learn how to use the torch, and even less desire to see my daughter wield the flame.  My daughter was eager to learn the new skill and was competent enough on her first try to work her second project unattended.

For the majority of the class we sat side by side, occasionally speaking, but mostly working in concentrated silence.  We each took opportunities to interact with the other students, and my daughter even switched tables once in order to learn something new from a fellow student.  There were times of abundant laughter and times of awkward silence in the class, but never did my daughter and I regret our seating arrangement.

We shared tools, commented on each other’s projects and gave each other pointers.  When she looked tired, I reminded her to drink some water.  When I looked uncomfortable, she asked if I needed her to get me something.

We created quite a bit of interesting work.  We each tried new things, but then gravitated to our comfort zones when tired.  She wove with metal using multiple techniques; I played with knitting and crochet.  Most of the time our color pallets clashed, but oddly at the very end we were using not only the same color pallet but utilizing the same technique to create strikingly different objects.

Is it luck that my teenaged daughter and I can have such positive experiences together?  No it is not luck.  It is lots of time, planning and work.  It is a full time job with great benefits and the very best of pension plans.

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There Must Be a Better Way

I am deeply saddened that during a time when our youth are being bombarded by so many ill winds, good organizations with a desire to help our youth are under attack.  Sadly too often the attacks come from politically driven individuals who have done little to inform themselves before slandering the organizations.

This, I believe, is the case in the recent attacks on the Girl Scouts of America.  In my blog Entitlement is a Symptom, I discuss the benefits of having a community of loving adults aiding in the development of our youth.  I believe that this is a role in which organizations like Girl Scouts can play a beneficial part.

To read one account of some “scary” activity or association should not make us publicly condemn the whole. Nor should we read an account of something “disagreeable” happening in a worldwide organization with similar name, and assume it applies to our local group.  While everyone has a right to develop their own opinions, it is irresponsible to do a small bit of research, and then publicly criticize and condemn the whole.

When a public leader or politician lashes out at a group like Girl Scouts, the consequences can be far reaching.  In just a few unkind or under-informed words, long term damage can occur.  How sad is it then, when the effects trickle down and a young person in need no longer has available resources to help mold their futures in positive ways.

We are not a nation of “one size fits all” and this especially applies to ideological beliefs.  We do not have to agree with every belief or principle of our neighbor.  Our neighbor should not be labeled as someone evil just because they don’t vote the same way we do.  There is enough real evil in the world without creating the perception of more.

The desire to slander an individual or a group based on our own precepts does not make us good people.  Politicians need to remember that while calling names and slinging ideological mud might temporarily rally supporters, it does not make them likable.  Worse yet, they are acting and sounding like lunatics and giving credibility to hatemongering.  So in the end, their politically driven tirade results in a negative effect on the youth who need the resources provided by Girl Scouts and similar organizations, as well as in the encouragement of the radical ideology of hate.

There must be a better way.

Note:  I considered adding links to articles detailing the nature of these attacks, but there were just too many of them.  If you would like to read them, search “Girl Scouts Under Fire” and you will find many from which to choose. 

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Political Spew – Who cleans it Up?

It is a sad state of affairs that in a time when there is so much information available so few politicians take the time to seek a balanced understanding of the issues they choose to use as sound bites, before they spew them.  In the past when news took days to travel the nation, a politician could arguably spew crap and not have a wide spread stink fest.  There was time to retract, dispute and rebut before the masses became aware of the crap and absorbed it as truth.

In a time when it takes minutes, if not seconds for news to travel, it is important for politicians to do more homework, have their staff do more homework, and be more informed before they speak.  In a good debate you always know your opposition’s standpoint.  You never go in with only half the argument.  If you really want to win, you really have to be prepared.

When a politician spews crap, who is responsible to clean up the crap?  When the sound bites and election is over, who will instruct the masses that the political rhetoric is just that – rhetoric and not reality?

In the good old days of politics, the candidates bashed each other, spewed misinformation, spun webs of confusion, and appeared to really dislike each other.  In some cases they may truly have been adversaries, but in most cases once the campaigning was finished, they returned to respectful associates, if not friends.

This was how politics worked.  Once the newspaper was thrown into the trash, and the world moved on, the masses went back to worrying about their own worlds and forgot most of the spew of the election.  This is not the case now.  When a candidate spews crap, it sticks around.  Others add to it, littering the internet and cable channels with more crap.  The piles become so large that they remain long after the election is over.

Over time and with more experience, the candidates become better educated on specific issues and often change to a more moderate stand, thereby becoming flip-floppers.  It is then up to them to clean up, not just their previous spew, but all the crap heaped on top of it. Sadly the more they work to clean up the mess, the more they are painted as wishy-washy.  So they often just let the crap stand, leaving us all to wither in the stink.

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Attack the Test or Change the Culture

I read an article claiming presidential candidate Rick Santorum does not believe that health insurance should cover amniocentesis because the results often lead to abortion.

Yes amniocentesis has led to abortions, but it has also given parents an opportunity to prepare for children with special needs months before the child comes home from the hospital.

I have been blessed to know a couple mothers who truly valued this time to prepare.  In one case, the mother was able to research her baby’s condition, prepare her home and family, sell her car and buy a minivan, and most especially prepare herself for the complications that might take her baby’s life.

She was encouraged to have an abortion many times during her pregnancy; her decision against abortion was questioned and often condemned by those in association with her.  However, she stood firm. Her child was given a very slim chance of making it to full term and she prepared herself. Once he made it to term, he was given a very slim chance of survival and again she prepared herself.  The well prepared mother took each day as a blessing and cherished every moment.  She rallied her family around her and continued to educate herself and her family on what might come next.  After nearly three years of being told her child might not survive, she invited all her supporters to her son’s second birthday party.  He was a joy to watch, a blessing to all.  He still is.

If insurance companies do not pay for this procedure, women are much less likely to undergo it.  As with any procedure, it should be the woman’s choice.   Comprehensive insurance should be comprehensive.  It should leave the decision of which procedure is needed up to the doctor and the patient, not up to bureaucrats and accountants.

The discussion of abortions being linked to amniocenteses should not be centered on whether the procedure is covered; it should be centered on changing the medical community’s feelings that they should encourage abortion when the chances of “normal” life are slim for the child.  This is what needs to change.

Abortion may be legal and may be in some cases be in the woman’s “best” medical interest, but to encourage it for the goal of limiting possible emotional suffering or struggle later on, should not be the outcome of amniocentesis.  Amniocentesis is a test and while warring against it is easier than changing attitudes, it is not the solution but the cop-out.

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Is it Justified?

I have just read of the new law waiting to be signed by the governor of Virginia. It would require a woman seeking an abortion to undergo an transvaginal ultrasound. The first article I read was an outraged editorial opposing the law, but what upset me was the rhetoric of the proponents for this law. It reminded me of other times civil liberties have been violated by the government. I searched and found to my dismay that versions of this law were being considered in other states as well.

Regardless of which side of the abortion debate you stand on, I ask you to consider whether this rhetoric, and the intent behind the proposed Virginia law, is not an abhorrent violation of moral decency and civil liberty?

It appears that the intent of the forced transvaginal ultrasound is to ensure that a woman seeking an abortion fully understands what she has chosen to do.  This seems reasonable on the surface, but as with any controversial issue, the debate around this policy has become embroiled with little reason and volumes of appalling opinion.

So I would like to pose three comparisons; and please bear in mind I am not trying to make light of any of these issues.

Okay so let’s assume you believe abortion is murder.  A legalized murder, kind of like suicide is for all intents self-murder and is not illegal, mainly because you can’t prosecute the deceased for their own death. (I would hope you would not prosecute anyone for attempted murder if they failed to succeed with their suicide.)  So you can’t stop the woman from seeking a legal murder, but you feel you must impress upon her that she is killing a living being.  So you force her to recognize the beating heart by “penetrating” her body against her will.  This violation is justified because you are trying to prevent a murder.

Next let say you would like to go on a hunger strike, maybe even to oppose abortion. So you set out to starve yourself until abortion is abolished.  Others would try to talk you out of it, but to no avail.  So the state steps in and force feeds you through a tube, preventing you from murdering yourself.  This is justified because the state is preventing a murder, a self-murder, but still a murder.

Finally let say you are a terrorist and you are planning to murder many people because they teach principles that are abhorrent to your moral beliefs.  You are captured but your partners are not.  So the government steps in and tortures you so you will divulge information which might put to an end your murderous plans.  This torture is justified because it might save many lives.  The government recognizes that you really don’t fully understand the magnitude of your actions, that your moral beliefs are misguided and you are obviously incapable of fully understanding what you have chosen to do.

It is not my intent to weigh in on the abortion debate, again it is the rhetoric that upsets me.  Have we learned nothing from our past?  Is there not a better way to save lives or are Machiavellian ideas to always be the justification for the disregard of civil liberty?

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Do You Like What Your School is Doing?

Eleven years ago, I felt the strong impression I needed to homeschool my two children.  While the concept of homeschooling was not a new one for me, it was one I was sure I would not pursue for many valid reasons.  However, I am not one to lightly disregard a deep, penetrating impression and so I began to reevaluate my conclusions.

Unlike many of the people deciding to homeschool at the time, I did not make the decision based on religious concerns, or concerns about the many “ills” a child might face in public school.  No, I simply took a closer look at my pre-school enrolled son and realized that he was already getting frustratingly bored with the limitations of group learning.

Never have I doubted the rightness of my decision, although it has been a tough road to travel.  The blessings have been boundless and the joy amidst the struggle, immense.

A sense of relief has now been added to my list of homeschooling emotions.  For while, I did not make my decision based on the policies of public schools, I find myself immensely relieved that I homeschool after reading a few news articles concerning the public school world.

I decided to write this post and put this list together after my daughter came and asked me to check on a story about school lunches she heard on the radio this morning. I also Google searched for stories about absentee punishments, but in this case the stories that popped up were terribly sad and from other countries.  On that topic, I do know of one Colorado school which has a policy in place whereby the student’s grade will be demoted each time the student misses class more than the allowed absent days.  Furthermore, excused absences which are only accepted when signed by a doctor, also count against the total.

When did we, as parents, sign over our rights and accountability for our children to the school?

School Lunch Police

Child Truant – Parent Jailed

Do children have the same legal rights as adults or are their rights lessened just as their punishments for crimes are?

Freedom of Speech Cases

Suspended for Banner 

Determining Speech Boundaries

Does the government owe our youth an education if the taxpayers are paying for it?

Suspended Child Sues School

Peanut Allergy Precautions 

Sports or No Sports

 

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Moments in Time: Monumental Lessons

The first moment I would like to share came when I was nine years old.  My mother, who was running marathons at the time, had a grave concern that I was going to grow up to be overweight, and thus decided to entice me to get fit with a bribe  She offered to take me to New York to participate in an all-female 10K, but only if I could run the distance without stopping beforehand.  The jog around Central Park was much more pleasant than the training runs, due mostly to the fact that my mom left me with some slower runners who were prone to take walking breaks. This moment in time taught me I could do anything if I tried hard enough, and that breaks make tasks much more pleasant to accomplish.

Jump ahead a handful of years to the summer when I was fourteen.  While my grandfather had dairy cows, a couple of his brothers had beef cattle and Quarter Horses.  I loved to ride, and would ride as often as I could convince someone to get me to a horse.  I had ridden with my mom and dad, with my cousins and brothers, even with a few uncles, but never with my grandfather, at least not since I was an infant in his arms.  That summer a unique thing happened, my grandfather took to the saddle one more time. With his older brother, and three grown nephews, he decided to revisit the days when he still used a horse to get the work done.  The men all had saddles, bridles and young mounts.  There was only one horse to be left behind, a thirty year old cattle pony which my mother had trained decades before.  My mom, neglecting to ask me or the men for permission, found an old broken bridle and without much warning, hoisted me up on the beautiful, wise, saddle-less mare. I was instructed to let the horse do the work, hold on and try my best not embarrass my mom.  Then off I went, chasing cows and jumping ditches right alongside my grandfather.  I had never before been as humbled or proud as I was on that day; the day I learned to hold on, stay quiet and cherish the moment.  Although my grandfather lived many more decades that was the last time he rode a horse, and the first time I really knew he was proud of me.

My next moment unfolded during the very first days of my sophomore year in college.  Over the summer, I had worked at a camp in Alabama teaching girls how to ride.  I had earned very little money at the camp, in truth only enough to cover the cost of unlimited riding lessons at college which I so desperately wanted, but which wasn’t covered by my student loans and grants.  It was a hard year to work at a summer camp, record rains kept us fighting mud and humidity.  Plus I had suffered a broken toe just a week into camp, causing me to limp through the remainder of the summer.   To my horror, after a week back at school and back in an English, rather than a Western saddle, my knee was painfully swollen and a trip to the doctor was in order.  As it turned out, all the limping from the broken toe had aggravated an old injury to the point where surgery was advised.  However, surgery was not an option for me.  Besides the fact that knee surgery wasn’t as nice and tidy as it is now; I didn’t have the insurance or funds to cover it.  Riding was therefore replaced by physical therapy. Therapy taught me that I could overcome the obstacle of pain and find a replacement for my lost love of riding. After months of working with the school physical therapist, I became healthy enough to train for the New York Marathon.

So with a marathon completed, I moved on to my next challenge: US Marine Corps Officer Candidate School.  In a mere seven weeks of the ten week program, I was left with tendonitis in all my toes, a torn muscle in my shoulder, a chipped tooth and various other minor injuries; all of which had not stopped my desire to be a Marine.  But then flu-like symptoms, unexplained leg swelling and dizziness set in and I was done. I decided that leaving on my own terms rather than in a wheel chair wasn’t quitting, it was just recognizing that my body wasn’t suited for what my brain wanted to do.   That summer I learned how to laugh instead of cry when I was in pain, even when the pain was from the heartache of leaving something behind.  

There are so many more moments in time I could share, but I will finish with one simple moment that occurred today when I was able to exercise for fifteen minutes on my elliptical machine.  Four years ago, I was advised by my doctor to take things slowly if I wanted to manage my fibromyalgia. When I asked what she meant, she replied, “Five minutes at a time.”  I wasn’t even sure how a person exercised for only five minutes at a time, but I was determined to learn.  I made a goal: have more energy when I turn fifty than I did when I turned forty.  I have had to overcome a lot of frustration. I have had to find a place to start and then I had to start again and again.  I have had to get creative and humble in my approach.   First I bought a cane so I would no longer feel so helpless when the fatigue hit.  Second, I bought a spinning wheel, for while I could not exercise without fatigue, and a strange feeling of guilt; I could spin yarn for hours and feel productive while doing it.  Finally, I gave myself permission to find strength in my weaknesses and opportunities in my limitations.

In our youth, time seemed endless, yet we rushed.  In our maturity, time seems brief, and we savor the moments we have left.

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Entitlement is a Symptom

I am a mother of two teenagers.  My boy turns sixteen in less than a month and my girl is in the first half of her fourteenth year. This fact does not make me an expert, however it does qualify me as a mother of our current generation of teens.

While my teens disagree with non-family adults at times, they are quick to apologize if they should act in a rude manner.  What I mean by this is that they speak their minds, defend their beliefs and apologize later even if they were in the right. They are good kids, they show respect for me and my husband.  They argue with us, as I believe they should because each argument leads to a lesson taught and learned.  They have said they are sorry for their attitudes more times than I can count and so have I (just not as often).  They have learned to respect people who deserve respect and have tolerance for those who do not.

I have the testimonials of others to confirm what I know from experience – I have good kids.  However, my kids didn’t get this way by chance and I didn’t win some good child lottery.  I worked diligently every day.  I went to bed praying every night to have better skills to teach my kids with, and forgiveness for my own shortcomings as well as theirs.  Too many days I yelled, too many times I became distracted, too often I waited longer than I should to give hugs and kisses.    I didn’t read to them enough, I didn’t play with them enough, but I did listen, observe and act.  I was in their lives, their faces and their business.  I still am.  I sacrifice for them. I give them all the tools they could possibly need to succeed. I drive them crazy with lectures, discussions and evaluations.  I am their mom, their confidant, their counselor and maybe just a tiny bit their friend.

It has not been, nor is it my goal to be their friend, but somehow, they like me.  Go figure, they like the grumpy, annoying, and nearly always right teacher, their mom.

So how have I managed this miracle?  Am I a Tiger Mom, or a French Mom or a Soccer Mom?  I am none of these things.  My success comes from spending endless hours talking to my kids, analyzing what they need, and acting.  In essence I parent them.

In 2004, Bill Cosby gave a speech in which he said, “We are not parenting.”  He also says that all the children “[know] is ‘gimme, gimme, gimme.’ These people [the parents] want to buy the friendship of a child….and the child couldn’t care less.”  He was talking to a very specific audience, an audience bigger than the one in the lecture hall that day.  His comments, which I advise all to read or watch, were directed to the lower and middle class black community of the United States, and he started a firestorm of fury.

However, I would like to direct his words to all of the middle and upper class of this nation, maybe even to the world.  I hear so much about the problem of youth entitlement, and how this is a “give me” generation, but where are their parents and grandparents in this debate?  Don’t get me wrong, I fully believe that the idiocy of the youth must be addressed, just as I have addressed my own children’s idiocy.  I have also addressed their grandparent’s idiocy of excess.  Excess money and toys do not make a child feel loved; only time and attention can generate that emotion.  Money and toys are easier to give and are a balm to the grandparent’s consciences when distance or busy lives keep them away from their posterity.  The child, old or young will not remember the money or toys when grandparents are gone, they will remember the games, stories and most of all the smiles and hugs that they shared with their “gramps and nanna”.

If it holds true that time and attention generate love, fondness and respect, then this recipe should work for parents as well as grandparents.

Often I have been told by working moms that they wish they could homeschool their kids as I do.  My answer has always been that they should use the hours of the evenings and weekends to work with their children.  Now, I don’t mean by heaping on more school subjects or doing endless housework (although working alongside your child is encouraged).  I mean that moms (and dads) should find a common interest or intrigue and pursue it together.  Yes, the zoo is fine or the museum, but unless you have a young biologist or artist in your home, try to find something else; something that you have to learn right alongside them, something new. It is amazing how much more open kids will be with you when the playing field has been evened.  Of course, word of warning, just like when teaching a child the game of chess you must help them win sometimes, while learning new skills and hobbies you should not outshine your child too much, let them compete with friends not parents for the blue ribbon.

When I hear adults complain about the “entitled youth”, I wonder about the parents and grandparents.  I wonder about the neighbor lady who is grandchildless, and the older gentleman whose children live far away.  How are they helping this generation?  I don’t think that the youth are the problem of today, I believe they are the byproduct of the problem.  Parents not parenting.  Grandparents spoiling rather than interacting.  Adults with kids grown, not volunteering in youth groups.  Society blaming the lost and not those who lost them.  Yes there will be some youth who will rebel or get lost regardless of the attention they recieve, but the effort should be made while there is still time left to make it.

I was brought up by a community of family and close neighbors.  When I had my children, I was not fortunate to have family nearby, so I found “family”.  I found aunts and uncles, grannies and grandpas, and even a few older cousins.  When someone moved away, I found a replacement.  I ensured that my children had a community of caring people in their lives.  I did this while I still worked full time and maintained it afterwards.  When my son faced a devastating internal struggle and his parent’s counsel did not help, we brought him to a loving “uncle” who spent time with him, listened to him and was always available, despite his own busy life as a father, husband and provider.  When my daughter struggled with self-doubt and low self-esteem, I found a bunch of “aunts” and “grandmas” who took her under their wing and nurtured her.

You will notice the word “I” was used quite often.  These are my kids and therefore I am accountable for them in their youth.

So what is the secret of my success, I spend time with my kids and I don’t do it alone – I don’t try to do it alone either.

(Just a note to the dads out their – all that I have stated, my husband agrees with, as parenting truly is a group effort.)

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The Natural Order of Life

Growing up on a farm, I learned the hard lesson that an individual life can often be shorter than the average lifespan predicts.

The natural order of life and death must be faced on a regular basis when living on a farm.  Our farm raised milk cows and so while I was fully aware of where our meat came from, I knew that the production of milk was the main goal.  This meant keeping the animals healthy and alive for a long time.

My role in the business was aiding my mother in nurturing the young calves. My mom was a great nurturer of animals and had a phenomenal survival rate with her charges.  At times she was even asked to guest speak for agricultural classes.  So while I was exposed to death on the farm, I only directly faced it with the very weak or very old animals.

This pattern changed drastically during the summer of my fifteenth year when an unusual virus took the life of fifty percent of the animals born that summer. While we did everything we could to keep the feverish newborns alive, in the end the strange virus was just too destructive.  By the end of that hot, grueling summer, death no longer seemed like something natural, but rather like a monster, unmerciful and unrelenting.  A new comprehension that the natural order of life and death could be traumatic settled in my consciousness.

That year was my last to work on the farm; the world around me changed and I changed with it. Over the years, the trauma of that summer faded and was replaced with a greater understanding that there are worse things in life than death.

Now I am older, a mother with my own teenagers who have experienced the death of many family members in their youth. While to my children, these family members were old, a few had died before reaching the “average” lifespan and by most standards, were still too young to leave this life behind.  I have tried to bring comfort to myself and teach my children that their grandmothers went to a better place; that their bodies had been worn out too soon, and that death brought an end to their suffering.

Just as the animals of my youth helped me face the realities of life and death and helped prepare me for the eventual death of family members, the animals of my children’s youth are teaching the same lessons.  Like the summer of my fifteenth year when an unusual heat brought an unusual virus, this year has presented odd shifts in the weather bringing untimely deaths.

Winter is supposed to be cold.  Animals grow extra hair to keep them warm during the winter, and unlike humans they can’t simply remove their coats when the temperature soars.  Sadly older animals, animals with weaker constitutions, and the very young often don’t survive when the temperatures soar one day and drop the next. Sometimes human intervention can help, but often times an animal, seemingly healthy one day, will lie down in the night and will rise no more at the dawn. This is life and life is not predictable. Knowing the average lifespan was met, is not a comfort.

Rest in Peace Bean – you taught us much about angora rabbits, made us laugh at your antics, and left a healthy posterity to carry on in your absence.  9 Feb 2012

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Answering the Call – “Mom …?”

I always knew that I would love homeschooling my kids during their teens.

When they were little, they needed seatwork and lots of encouragement.  I am not sure that I did so well in either of those areas.  Yes there was seatwork and yes there was encouragement, but did it all happen at the right time or get completely done? Probably not.  One thing for certain, I could never be far away from their desks if anything was to turn out well.

When they were in the middle years, I was able to have a little more time to myself.  They worked on their own better than when mom was around.  They tested their boundaries. They learned lessons from books and from their own choices: good and bad.  During this time, I was able to have creative time, sometimes with the kids and sometimes on my own. These were turbulent years for us in so many ways, and homeschooling was a blessing.  I am not sure how we would have gotten through them if we had not been able to go through it all together.  People question why my kids are so mature?  A lot of life happened in those few short years.  We all grew old faster than normal.

Now we have entered a new phase.  I spend the day at the computer located in my office just across the hall from their rooms and today it finally occurred to them why.  I am on the computer most of the day so I am near them when they need me.  If I were in my sewing room downstairs, I am not as available when they need an opinion.  You see I don’t grade seatwork any more.  I don’t check spelling.  The truth is they have surpassed me in most skills.  They are talented, smart and very creative, each in their own way.   However, they still need mom to explain, confirm and reassure them.  One of the two, watches the news, reads the news and thinks a whole lot on the world he is soon to enter and work hard to change.  The other one sees the beauty of the world and wants to help others see that beauty as well, but her eyes often get clouded with doubt.  Her doubt blocks her creativity. Her doubt often causes her to miss the beauty staring back at her in a mirror.

From one room the call comes, “Mom does this sound correct?”  Soon from the other room the same question is posed.  Laptops in hands, they each come to the office and show me their work.  While one waxes philosophical, one poetic, both communicate an awareness of the world around them.

Yes a new phase is here.  Phone calls to institutions of higher education, college level studies, and an awareness of the political, social and economic trials of our times have become the order of the day.  So I now spend many long hours studying the internet (intermixed with a few moments of Zynga gaming) all so I can answer the call, “Mom what does this mean?”