Parenting

Funniest Fish Funeral Ever

We had pet fish once.
They were named Dorothy and Goldie.
One for our last name and the color of the fish
and one for my grandma and Elmo’s fish.

I think they lasted in their bowl in my kitchen window for three days.
Abigail still recalls with great emotion the day she found them both laying belly-up.
“Their eyes, mom. They were just staring at me.”

Daddy was gone, so Papa took care of the situation.
Fortunately, somewhere in the book of life law is the rule
“Dads take care of  pet burial.”

With papa’s love and care the fish took the next huge step in their circle of life:
they became garden fertilizer.
Our girls know how much papa loves their garden,
therefore they knew that the fish got a royal ending.

fishing with papa

To this day, they beg me for more fish.
I always tell them no.
“You begged me for a cat.
You promised me you would take care of it.
I’ll sleep with it, feed it.
And you don’t.
Then you begged me for a dog.
Mom, we’ll walk it, we’ll feed it, we’ll play with it, we’ll give it a bath.
And I do it way more than you ever do.”

The first fish experience combined with the dog and cat makes three strikes.
I will never be guilt-ed into another fish experience.
Not unless it’s the fish that will end up on my plate to eat.
And we all know that salmon or tilapia aren’t going to fit in a tank.

We now settle for fish window shopping at Walmart every time we visit.
I think that makes me a “good enough” mom and that’s as high as I aim nowadays.

The other day on facebook, a friend asked a serious question.
Should she replace her son’s fish for the 5th time without telling him,
or just go ahead and tell him that it’s dead?

All I could think about was the master himself Bill Cosby.
How I love Bill Cosby.
I wish I could find other masterful and clean comedians to follow.

Better yet, if you have Netflix, go and watch the whole second episode so you can have all the laughs.

I love you Bill Cosby. I really do.

Lessons from the trail: family bikeride

Man, I can’t wait for spring.
The following pictures have a funny story
that you would never guess just by looking at them.
One summer day, the year before last, a mother got really greedy
and decided that her family could ride their bikes
farther then ever before.
She wanted to make it from home to the nearby waterfalls.
It was only 16.5 miles round-trip.
bridal veil
Every family member, but her, complained the whole way.
The mom didn’t understand, she was having the time of her life.
Even the oldest daughter who was used to running all the time seemed to hate every minute.
At mile 6.5, (1.7 shy of their destiny) the mom cut her losses
and finally told everyone they could turn back.
The mother was so disappointed. The father was almost dead.
The kids vowed to never ride again.
But, to this day, all but the mom
are still all heard to brag of that long family ride
a few summers back.
(The mom is still waiting for the family conquer expedition.)
They still ride together as a family often
but never ever more then ten miles at a time.
The mom now sticks to the long distances by herself.
The moral of the story:
Sixteen miles for one person might be a piece of cake,
but just because you are that person
it doesn’t mean that you can automatically
expect your family to be as capable.
The other thing that we learned:
Together time is the best time to make memories,
even if everyone is in physical pain.
Posted by Picasa

A Pause in Parenting {A Poem}

My four beautiful  girls were all huddled around the computer desk a few days ago and were pointing, giggling, and talking as I cooked dinner. They were all so happy that I broke away from food preparation to investigate. (I’m always looking for new ways to make them happy – especially for when they spend time together) Upon inspection of the screen of my laptop, I was surprised to see them looking through my old blog. As they looked through all the old posts with stories and photos, they shared memories and debated names of former stuffed animals.

I was sucked in as easily as they had been. I knew in  my heart Abigail was just making a really good attempt at procrastinating her homework, but I let it slide. We all ooo’ed and awe’d at how cute everyone’s younger and littler selves were and shared our opinions on silly things. “Sophia, you always look better with shorter hair.” “That was so fun when we dressed as Rapunzel.” “I wish Caroline could have kept her curls.”

Bella remembered out loud, “That time Caroline threw up in my mouth was so gross.” Abigail found the photo of her first crush in 5th grade and we discussed her continued respect for  boys with brains. Sophia questioned me as to why I let her hair grow so long and scraggly. There were so many happy memories. Even the bad experiences have become happy over time.

It was a beautiful moment that I won’t forget. I felt so close with  my girls. I felt so lucky to be their mom. I was so grateful for so many wonderful memories. I was so astounded that they have grown up so quickly. I wanted time to freeze.

I was so glad that I blogged. My mom pride swelled as I realized that my little hobby had preserved so much for us to share. The girls lamented, “Mom, you used to have the best blog, and now you are so boring. You just blog about your problems.” Out of the mouths of babes. I chuckled as I reminded them that they used to often be mad at me for blogging about them and sharing all their secrets, but was privately happy that they were not just giving me permission to blog about them, but were practically begging for it.

I look forward to sharing more kid stories although I think it is more difficult to find such entertaining material as they age. It will be a fun challenge.

This morning however as I searched my heart and photo folder on my hard-drive for a more recent story or two, I just couldn’t help but feel heavy-hearted with the fact that my little girls are so grown-up.

A Pause in Parenting

They will grow so fast, they would say:
Try to enjoy every day.
I skeptically disagreed.
The dirty diapers will never stop
and neither will the million scraped knees.

I dragged along trying my best
not to totally screw up their joy.
I felt like a failure most of the time
and lamented my previous care-free me.

Ran around like a chicken I did.
Please don’t cut off my head.
Dragged them to and from every magical place
While I often wished for just a moment of peace.

It was in the car and school and church
and yard and kitchen and parks
that each little memory was made.
I didn’t believe I would ever miss it:
the toil and sweat was pain.

I stole a smile here and a smirk from them there
and a billion laughs and songs and sighs,
I often just cursed all the work it required
and didn’t stop to see the end
that would come quicker than a wink of an eye.

Now, I can’t make them stop.
They grow every day.
A millimeter at a time.
I would debate their inevitable progress still
if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.

I can’t stop time.
I can’t keep them for mine.
Someday they will fly this coop.
I didn’t enjoy every minute like I was told
but I tried as hard as I could.

They, however, enjoyed a lot more
then I ever had time to see
and I guess that is the way
that God always intended parenting to be.

Why can’t they drive?

Every phase of parenting has its own challenges. For me nothing has been as excruciating as the loneliness I felt with my first infant. My husband was working full-time and going to school full-time and was really only home to sleep. I had strong feelings about being home with my own baby and so I quit a job I loved to nurture my newborn baby. I missed my friends at work terribly and longed for some mental stimulation. I didn’t know that I had postpartum, but it didn’t help matters.

By far, my hardest parenting phase was the first one to five years. Babies and toddlers are very demanding. Changing diapers, picking up toys, cleaning up messes, and watching too many cartoons didn’t make me feel fulfilled as it does for some mothers.

IMG_3178

So fast forward a good decade to where I am today. I have children who are fourteen, twelve, ten, and four, and I swear to you that this is the second hardest phase of parenting.

The drama isn’t to blame or even the demanding financial responsibilities although both of those just seem to grow along with the kids….the hardest part of this phase is that my kids are completely capable of driving, yet they can’t.

I have to say that I am very (and what I really mean is VERY) tempted to allow my kids to drive themselves illegally.  Once you hear about last night, you may be offer to help with some new legislation.

Idaho is on to something. Maybe we all need to get our kids some tractors and 14-year-old limited farming licenses to drive so we can take our lives back?

Our oldest daughter, Abigail, (shown at the left in pink) has quite the full social calendar. It has become quite problematic for LeGrand and I who try to have a date one evening on the weekend. Our dates were getting interrupted and changed often to allow us to taxi her back and forth all over town. Several months ago, LG and I were feeling depleted and after discussing it at length we finally told Abigail that she was going to have to choose either Friday or Saturday night as we were reclaiming one night back for ourselves. She wasn’t happy, but she has complied.

All week long she has been planning to go to a local trampoline gym tonight, but then yesterday a friend invited her over for the evening. She really wanted to do both however we had a date carved out already and told her she would have to choose. She decided Saturday was more important. We told the kids (who hadn’t gotten out of the house all day due to my 6 hours of church service) that we would take them out for a cheap dinner and then we were heading out for our date. Then all hell broke loose.

As we were at Wienerschnitzel a friend of Sophia’s (our twelve-year-old) called and asked her if she wanted to go to a movie. LG and I had already purchased our movie tickets for 9:30 and so we told Sophia if she could get a ride to the movie and home afterward, we could take her over to her friend’s on our way out. We had to run the kids by the library (which was close to the hotdog place) and then were looking forward to getting out by ourselves for our much-needed recharge.

The problems started when we reached Kamryn’s house. It was 8:24 and their movie was supposed to start at 8:30. We offered to take Sophia and her friend to the movie. Kamryn’s parents weren’t home from their date yet and Kamryn’s little brother could handle the younger siblings for just a few minutes as they traveled home. We would still get on our date by 9, and Kamryn’s parents would bring them home.

When we got to the movie, it was sold out. Twelve-year-old’s don’t bother with details beforehand. Then we had to wait for the other friends Kamryn invited. They didn’t have a cell phone so we had to go into the theater to see if we missed them only to get called ten minutes later with the news that they had gone back home. It was a mess.

After a lot of phone calls and waiting on a bunch of girls to make new plans, all the girls ended up at our house. We barely got out the door on our date ten minutes before our show was starting. LeGrand and I were fully frustrated. We now had three kids at our house that we would need to take back home after our date. So much for date-night.

When we finally sat down in the theatre (during the previews, mind you) our combined sighs were audible. I turned to LG in the dark and gave him a kiss and said, “This date night is the best we’ve ever had.” And I meant it. Who knew that the level of enjoyment of a date is in direct proportion to how crazy the hours/days were leading up to the said date?

I guess we don’t want the kids to drive after all.

I Feel Like I’m Rich

This morning after getting Caroline dressed for preschool, like usual, I looked her over and told her how cute she looked. She is cute every day, even when I don’t brush her hair. (Yeah, I admit that there are days I don’t brush her hair – I usually at least just pull it back in a ponytail. Judge only after you have four children.)

Today Caroline was feeling really special as yesterday we got her haircut at the local hair-school for $3.50 and we bought her a new shirt from the Walmart clearance rack for $4. Also, the other day LG had insisted that I buy her a new pair of tennis shoes that were easier for her to put on and take off. We’ve been making do with a pair from the thrift store that weren’t working so well. After brushing her shorter hair and putting it in a headband and sporting her new digs when I told her she looked cute she really believed it. She looked at me with wide eyes and a huge smile and said, “Mom, I feel like I am rich or something.”

Her declaration took me by surprise. We are obviously emphasizing our financial status a little too much around here. I chuckled and thought to myself, “Um yeah kid, you are soooo rich. We spent a whole whopping $17.50 on you all year.” I then thought how much happier I would be if shopping from the clearance rack at Walmart would make me feel as rich as it did for Caroline.

caroline

Then as I posed her for a picture the real lesson came in the form of a still small voice. “You are rich Alice. You are so very rich.” Like always the voice was right. Look at this beautiful girl. She’s all mine. She makes me the richest woman in the world.

As I looked around our small apartment at our comfortable couches, artwork on the walls, books on the shelves, and felt the warmth of my very humble American home I felt ashamed for my worldliness. Compared to most of the world, we are rich. We are very rich. We are rich in worldly terms and too often I am too prideful to see it. If worldly stuff mattered I should be grateful for so much abundance, but truly this little girl is way more of a reason for my heart to be full of thanksgiving because she is one of my few eternal treasures that I will be grateful for beyond the confines of this earth.

Your Kid Needs You To Fill in This Blank

I tell my kids I love them all of the time, but I rarely tell them them what I love about them. Honestly I hadn’t even thought about it until I just read this powerful post. {Trust me, you won’t regret hitting that link and taking the 60 seconds to read it} The post offers one simple suggestion that the author gleaned from another article. {Isn’t it funny how we bloggers just recycle all the good stuff over and over again?} This time the recycled goods is a jackpot of a fill in the blank for parents.

Now normally I wouldn’t welcome fill in the blanks. I swear that the blank state of my mind (not the blank line on the paper) was the real inspiration for the naming of the “fill in the blank”.  I can’t tell you how many times in my life I stared down at a question on a test and silently screamed, “C’mon brain, fill in the *^$# blank! I know the answer is in there somewhere.” I guess I have finally arrived. It only took parenting for me to have a cinch of a “fill in the blank”. I can’t go wrong with this one.

IMG_3064

Oh, so you didn’t click the link and now you are totally curious? O.k. I’ll tell you, you lazy-linkers, but trust me the other article says it much more articulately. All you have to do is say this to your kids: “I love to watch you _ _ _ .” [Fill in the blank with whatever applies.] See what I mean? It’s a parenting jackpot. You can’t go wrong.

I just went into my photos to find one appropriate for this post and I came up with all kinds of ideas.

“I love to watch you ride a skateboard.”

“I love to watch you blow bubbles.”

“I love to watch you hit your sister.” (O.k. maybe that one isn’t so good, unless you are raising future boxers and then it would be your own personal gem.)

The originally cited article tackled the difference between nightmare and great sports parents. It too is a great read even for the parents with non-athletic kids. Basically it communicates that kids don’t want to be critiqued, they want to be loved and supported. Don’t we all?

I remember one time after I pulled off a significant event at the kids’ school, my husband said to me, “I love watching you in your element.” I still tear up just thinking about him saying that and it was over a year ago. It made me over-joyous that he recognized my actions and affirmed them. With one simple sentence, he perfectly communicated that he was happy to be an integral part of anything I did even if it was just to watch from the sidelines.

Last Saturday while attending my 11-year-old niece’s soccer game I witnessed something really disturbing. A soccer coach belligerently took personal jabs at a 16-year-old referee. He told him he sucked and had no business reffing. He then said, “You have no social skills” among a myriad of other insults.

It’s one thing to tell the ref about a bad call you observed and another thing entirely to verbally abuse a person. Watching this out-of-control coach made me sick to my stomach. After the parents starting joining in too, I hollered from the goal-zone where I was sitting, “Chill out.” A few minutes later as the game ended, the coach walked down my direction and yelled at me to take my “chill out” and shove it. Oh, no he didn’t!! I stood up and called down all the powers of calm from the universe. I walked over to the coach who kept yelling at me to remove myself from his sideline. I calmly said, “I am just a mom here watching a game, I am not here to support either side but the side of the kids. You are being a very bad example to every kid out here. That referee can’t be a day over 16 and I am here to advocate for him.” The parents all started in on me about how bad of a job the ref did, how he is in a role of an adult so he can handle it, la la la. I didn’t even want to be that close to them, they made me sick. I said, “I’m not here to argue. I am just here to be a juvenile advocate”, and then I calmly walked away. On the outside I was a perfect picture of character, on the inside I was shaking like a leaf.

I couldn’t help but think how powerful it would be for every one of those maniacal adults to read the above article about nightmare parents. How sad it was for each of their kids to know that losing a game 6-0 could have the power to turn their parents into insulting and aggressive idiots. After that game not one of them could even tell their kids in honesty that they loved to watch them play because their cruel actions spoke way louder than their words.

Now, I am not here to peg me (the perfect parent) against them the non-perfect parents. We all have dark and light and my dark moment was just three weeks earlier when I railed into my fourteen-year-old after her soccer game for not playing to the best of her ability. As she walked with her dad to his car (to avoid me) after my good licking on the sideline, I felt like crap. I immediately called her and apologized but the damage had been done. We talked later with her and our other girls and they all told me they didn’t need my opinion about everything. I over-critique and they complained that I even over-compliment. The nerve! Ouch. They didn’t know exactly how to tell me, but what they really were saying is this: “Mom, all we want to hear is that you love to watch us play.” Thank you parenting article for making my duty clear and for giving me the right words. All I have to do is fill in one blank for the rest of my life. I can’t wait.

You Used How Much Laundry Detergent?

 

laundry

I just read this awesome article about how my generation of parents is enabling, stifling, and protecting their kids too much. I have to say I 100% agree. In fact, I have been part of the problem. I am trying to change.

My marriage counselor helped me to see what outcome I should want to have: kids who at 18 can manage their lives for themselves. That means that they need to start doing their own laundry, taking caring of their own time management, being in charge of their own homework, and managing their own relationships. There needs to be clear rules and consequences to the acceptable state of the house for all family members and we all need to be held accountable. I needed to not rescue my children as often as I was rescuing them. I needed to stop taking the stuff up to the school that they forgot. I needed to make them order their own fast food. If I don’t do these things now, they won’t be ready. It was pretty eye-opening when I started to see everything that I do as a parent that has robbed my kids an opportunity to learn to do it for themselves.

I laughed when I recently told a friend about my counselor’s suggestion. She had posted a picture of a humongous pile of socks. I told her that at the suggestion of my counselor, all but one of my children are now doing their own laundry and that I no longer have to deal with the sock pile. It’s awesome. She replied to me, the same exact way I had responded to the counselor. “I’m not ready to manage that right now. I can’t handle it.” My counselor called me out on my control issues (I spared my friend) and said, “No, you can handle it, it will be easier to handle actually. You just aren’t ready to give up control.” Ouch. We immediately went home and started the new and improved way of doing laundry.

It’s a cinch. It takes no management. I won’t say my kids love it, but they are incredibly impressed with their new-found independence and responsibility. The three of them each have one day a week that they know is their laundry day. When they get home from school, without even being reminded, they immediately go and put their stuff in the washer (or dryer if they really had their act together before school). The consequence was clearly lined out. If they don’t do their own laundry on their own laundry day, they will have to haggle with someone else to share their day or they will have to go a whole week without clean underwear. Yes, it sounds a lot like real life. That’s the point. You will be amazed at how well your kids will manage when they don’t want to be without their favorite clothes for a week.

I chuckle as I think about telling the counselor that I couldn’t possibly let the kids do their own laundry. “They will waste so much water and laundry detergent. It’s just more efficient for me to do it all.”  She asked me this, “What is your goal for your children?” I answered, “I guess for them to be happy, functioning and self-sufficient adults.” She answered, “Well then, the cost of a little water and laundry detergent is what you are going to have to deal with – it’s what good parenting requires.”

I hate it that she is always right! And then while I sit here and blog while my daughter is running upstairs with her own laundry that I never have to worry about again, I love it that she’s always right. That session was the best $80 I’ve ever spent.

Parenting as Partners

IMG_4998

It’s 3:14 a.m. and I had to come and write about the most profound dream I just had. I feel like it was a vision. I don’t quite understand it but I know it was meant to teach me something. I have the most deep satisfying sense of love and loyalty for my parents right now. It’s as if God allowed me to see them for the beauty they radiate…beauty that my pride has all too many times not allowed me to see in the past.

This dream is incredibly special to me, especially tonight, as LG and I both went to bed completely emotionally spent. We went on a walk last night and discussed some troubles in our marriage. LG feels like I don’t appreciate what he provides (when I do) and I feel like he doesn’t appreciate my role as the family nurturer (when he really does). Our perceived hurts from each other are really just our own insecurities about what we are unable to contribute to the family. Yesterday in church we had a lesson about The Family: A Proclamation to the World and one line kept reoccurring to me throughout this dream as it did while LG and I were trying to reconcile our hurts last night.

By divine design, fathers are to preside over their families in love and righteousness and are responsible to provide the necessities of life and protection for their families. Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children. In these sacred responsibilities, fathers and mothers are obligated to help one another as equal partners.

My parents, like LG and I, have made many mistakes. Many. They have screwed up and will continue to screw up until they die, but in this dream God communicated to me. He opened my eyes. Only one thing is needful in parenting. Only one thing. The one thing that God will judge us by is the fact that we loved our children. In this dream God showed me how much my parents love. He showed me how richly blessed I have been to have the kind of parents that I do, they are gems above any others on the earth because their love is almost perfect. They have learned total selflessness and complete fidelity. They are as obedient to God as they have the capacity to be and they love Him, they love each other; they love their fellow man, and they love their children. They will be exalted. Nothing else matters. They have learned the lessons that matter most. They have passed the test of mortality. They are good to go.

So after I tell you about this dream, you may wonder how in the world I draw my conclusions, but that is how I know this dream was from God. Only God can communicate to a person without an explanation. Mortality is full of distractions. Our natural man is given to us as our test, and once in a while, God will try to get around it to help to teach us. A series of images in a dream is our natural man’s broken way of receiving it.

So in this dream my brother Adam was living in a house. All my siblings and our spouses had all gathered at his request. My parents were dead and it wasn’t a recent occurrence, but some time had passed. We all went. All of us were looking for wisdom we didn’t know we were missing. The house where Adam lived was in one of the nicest places of our hometown. It had a beachfront view, yet it was extremely modest from the street. It was white with cottage style windows. We gathered in the garage to talk. Adam revealed to us that this home belonged to all of us. It was bought by my parents while they were living. All of use were astounded. My parents have always struggled financially. There is no way they could have afforded this home, yet there it was in all its glory. We became emotional, not because we now had this dream vacation home, but because my parents had sacrificed so much to give it to us.

Adam began to show us around. As the tour of the home (and the dream) progressed it became very apparent that this was not just some ordinary modest home. This place was a mansion above all mansions. We went outside to see the vast ranch-land. There were horses, enough for each of my siblings and our spouses. There was a cow and a pig and other farm animals. Someone had cared perfectly for each of the animals. They each had a beauty and cleanliness of the most cared for and primped animals with the blue ribbons at the fair. We were all astounded that a place like this could exist and that a place like that was ours and mostly that the only reason we earned it was because of the righteousness and love and loyalty of our parents.

Adam explained to us that he had been caring for the place since my parents had passed and that he was in a desperate situation to provide the necessary upkeep. There were servants to be paid and fed. He didn’t have any of his own means and it was too much for him to handle. It was more than he could afford, so he made the judgement call to sell off the only thing he had of value. He was completely tore up about it: he had sold four of the horses. He was ashamed. He didn’t want to reveal to any of us that he had not been able to care for my parents legacy with the ease that they had. They had somehow brought all of this to fruition but he was giving it to us without its entirety because of his own shortcomings. None of us cared. Horses could be replaced and none of us felt that we needed to ride them all together anyway. We could share the horses that were left or we could sell the rest if that was necessary. We didn’t care about the horses. We cared about Adam. We all felt such compassion and love towards Adam who had carried the burden of providing for our parents legacy without us. (I don’t totally understand that meaning of this part of the dream but I know it is significant so I am including it here for further pondering at a time when I am more awake)

We went into the house. We gathered in the kitchen. Adam showed us each our own rooms. One at a time. We didn’t have to physically walk there, we just could transplant ourselves into the rooms. In each of the rooms information was gathered by each of us that made a whole collection like pieces of a puzzle. My parents had left notes to each of us, hidden in places that were specific to each. The notes were found in places only we would know to look. and so Adam had not figured it out. They were handwritten and hidden by my mother. She thought she had done this without my father’s approval, but he knew about each instance and allowed it as he wanted her to have the joy of giving without the burden of taking from him.

As we explored our rooms of the mansion, each of us found two things 1-an insane amount of money that was designated from and for different purposes (past and present) and 2-a note of history and instruction. For instance, my find was a letter from the top dresser drawer. My room was beyond beauty. It had all the nicest furnishings and was really just a portal to my own personal mansion beyond. But the dresser looked just like my moms growing up. I recognized it as soon as I saw it. I was drawn to it. It was in perfect condition, not the make-do piece from the thrift-store. It was the place my mom kept all the important things she needed to keep track of while she was raising me. It was the place she had designated for the safe keeping of the most valuable items so they wouldn’t be hampered with by the children too young to understand. Apparently I was finally old enough to earn my right to the drawer.

I opened the dresser and found my letter along with a little filing box that seemed to go back as far as I looked. Inside were neatly tucked away daily, monthly, and yearly installments that were bought through her sacrifice. They were bought in many different ways: my mom’s service to her family, the sacrificial moments of her life when she paid for the needs of her children instead of something she wanted (i.e. piano instead of clothes for herself), and each time my mom had taken any small effort to remember her homeless brother God had made an additional very significant installment.

I knew exactly each little thing that the money I held was to be designated to in the near and distant future. I was to pass it on. Upon touching the money my awareness was complete and my desires to fulfill the 100% correct wishes of my mom’s heart were not just perfect but I knew would be the catalyst for perfect completion. The amount of money I held in my hand was impossible, yet there I was holding it, an infinite amount of impossible that measured a living legacy that was always misunderstood by me. I cried out in shame and sorrow. I didn’t need the money or the mansion. All I wanted to do was thank my mother. At that moment my dad appeared in the room. I thought I was seeing things yet he was there. I embraced him with tears running down my face. I didn’t need to express my feelings of gratitude or sorrow or shame as he just knew. He loved me all the same. He wasn’t hurt. He understood. He just said, “She never wanted you to know.”

We experienced all together other profound experiences and findings (we each had an invitation to witness each others) that represented the goodness, foresight, selflessness, love, compassion, organization, and amazing capacities of both my mom and dad. The capacities were way more than we ever witnessed in real-life. My parents seemed perfect. They had provided us with everything we needed and even more. My mom was able to show us (as my dad did for me first) of the many ways my dad had sacrificed and contributed for each of us.

They had both left us with an amazing capacity and the means to care for so many others. It wouldn’t have been half as significant if they hadn’t have both had the same desire. One envelope my dad instructed me to take at that very moment and give to two small girls (they seemed to be my grandchildren) nearby. My brother Adam discovered a check that he had overlooked originally. It was made out as STAMPS and was what my parents had left for him for food so he wouldn’t have had to sell the horses. We all knew he could use the check to buy back the horses and completely restore the legacy of my parents. It was never too late. Time didn’t exist and neither did the mistakes that we measured by time.

I cannot remember any more of the details. I believe I’ve written down the most significant. This may sound totally crazy to you, yet I know it is not. I know I have had the most amazing journey into God’s insight. I am richly blessed. I need to appreciate and love my parents now so that I will not have shame later. I also need to know that LG and I love each other and our kids and no matter how frustrated we may get with our situation, we are stockpiling indescribable blessings for our children and beyond.

Family Friendliness Forgotten at the VMA’s

We don’t really watch much TV, so I didn’t have to experience the VMA shock like a lot of my other friends last night. The reactions of friends have supported our family’s choice to limit the media’s influence in our home.

If you didn’t see it and just want as little exposure as possible,
I highly recommend this article:
15 weirdest and craziest moments from Miley Cyrus’ VMA performance
and trust me it will make you want to shower.

Sick and wrong people. Sick and wrong. I don’t want to judge, I really don’t. I don’t understand all things entertainment and so maybe I am missing something. I am sure Miley is a sweet girl. It seems like she has just gotten her identity a bit messed up. I will tell you that this is just one little piece of a very dark and scary puzzle for the deterioration of the family. Last year, I went to see the movie Pitch Perfect and although I loved the music, I thought the same thing as I just did while watching Hannah Montana pimp herself out: What is this world coming to? Later I found out that the children of many of my conservative friends had all seen Pitch Perfect. It’s a movie full of foul sexual innuendos.

Here is a clean scene from the show.

Essentially this scene alone teaches our girls it’s o.k. to shower with whatever guy will give them attention, it’s o.k. to walk around nude and confident, it’s o.k. to storm another person’s privacy. Not even only that it’s o.k. but it’s glamorous. So, my question is really this. Why is anyone out there with 2 shakes left in their brain shocked at Miley’s performance? We are creating these monsters people. We create them with our apathy towards sexually implicit and explicit material that is marketed towards our kids.

Some of you may think I sound like a prude. Maybe I am. My kids think so because they are some of the only kids they know who haven’t seen Pitch Perfect. Do I feel oppressive? Hell no. I feel like a superhero mom who is giving my kids a Northern Star of conduct.  Let them sneak out to watch it at their friends’ houses and while they are watching it, they will feel guilty. They will feel dirty. They will understand why I wanted to shelter them from it all. They will probably feel some sexual reaction in their body, and they will know that their sexuality should be private and dignified. When they don’t ever end up on a stage stripping for the whole world to gawk in awkwardness, I will know that I did my job right.

Family – Hinckley Style

While living in Tennessee, we got to know a wonderful family
who also happens to be extremely talented musically.

I have always loved this song which has a beautiful parenting theme.

Yesterday I discovered one of Derek’s most recently written songs and it brought me to tears.
It has such a true message about raising children,
the sacrifice of it, but most of all, the rewards gained.
It made me even more grateful to be a mother.
I hope it does the same for all of you.

And here is an added bonus.
It’s two of the Hinckleys singing one of my favorite love songs
for a TN local talent show audition: The Nashville Star.
This song describes perfectly the love that I share
with my extra quiet hubby. “When You Say Nothing At All”