The Gold Girls

My kind of Craft Project and Chore Chart
I am NOT crafty.
That is not a confession,
like the kind you have to hide in a closet,
but a declaration of this is part of who I am.
More power to those of you who are crafty and take joy in it.
I would rather buy your stuff than attempt it myself.
Because I am a shopper.
Shopping is a talent I like to spend my time working at.
I’ts also something that I have learned how to curb.

You see, God made everyone different.
It’s o.k. that I am not crafty.
It’s o.k. that I don’t want to spend my time
trying to be like most of the other moms I know.
It’s o.k. that I would rather spend my time
reading and writing and bargain shopping.
It’s o.k. that I don’t care if my girls hair is perfection.
And that I don’t even like those horrible
crazy HUGE bows on the modern babies’ heads.
It’s o.k. that my house is simple.
That I don’t need a showroom
for my friends.
It’s o.k. It’s o.k. It’s o.k.

I recently came across a friend’s cool craft project.
It involves a T-shirt and a can of spray paint.
It’s my kind of project.
I am going to try it.
But, I will probably never post a picture of it.
Because that’s just not who I am.
I would rather blog about my
thoughts, opinions, ideas, and funny stories.

Go over and check out how to do it at Jennifer’s blog.
She’s most definitely a crafty.
In fact her mom tried to teach me how to sew once.
It was a disaster.
The only way my ugly skirt got done
was because my sister took pity on my
and finished it after she got done with hers.
We were 14 and 16,
and she was and still is a million times craftier.

And to add to that
Here is an example of the simplicity I prefer.
It’s our chore chart.

I will show you how to make your own
if you are craft challenged.
Like me.

This system made it through the whole summer,
and is still in full swing
into the first week of school.
I’m very proud.
Not of its gorgeous display,
or the effective system,
but I am proud of the fact
that I pulled out
the electrical tape,
crayons,
scissors,
paper,
contact paper,
and magnets,
and my kids made it for me.

The kids were crossing their weekly jobs out
with a dry erase marker
as they get them done.
Now, we just know when they’ve got them done.
The sooner the better.

Each of the girls were assigned a row.
Oldest to youngest.
And there is even a spot for Caroline.
Because we are putting her to work
as soon as possible.
Trust me,
the older girls
can’t wait to pawn stuff off on her.

And they each have three columns.
One for everyday jobs.
And a column of weekly jobs.
Because Excel spreadsheets,
I can reinvent.
We rotate the dailies on a weekly basis.
And they get to choose their own weeklies.
First come, first serve.
They love the grab.
And the competition.
We’ve initiated the concept
in family scripture study too.
Scripture chase:
Old Testament.
Go.
Proverbs 3:5-6
They are memorizing the
scripture songs
so they can get faster.
Watch out seminary kids.
The Gold Girls are in the house.

The last column is completely unrelated.
They are not rewarded any longer for chores.
They are expected to comply.
They don’t get allowance.
But, they do get warm fuzzies
for good behavior.
Kind of like
dad gets warm fuzzies from mama
for bringing home the bacon.

The black circles are worth 1 warm fuzzy.
The yellow are worth 2 and a treat at the store.
The red are worth 3 and a rented Redbox.
The blues are the biggest hit.
They are worth 10 and a date with mom, dad, or a friend.
The green are worth 20 or $5.
They haven’t learned to save up yet.
They like instant gratification.
In the form of candy and movies.
Lucky for dad.

The term warm fuzzy was coined
by my first grade teacher.
And you will hear me use it as a threat often.
“Go take two warm fuzzies for hitting your sister.”
But hopefully, more often than threatening,
you will hear me rewarding:
“Everyone gets three warm fuzzies
for being so helpful today.”

It’s on the fridge,
like every other important thing in my life.

And did I mention?
That it’s been working
at my house
for three months!!!

Kids doing chores = one very happy uncrafty mom.

One last sidenote:
At church the other day,
a teacher was explaining to me that
in his training he has learned
that you don’t want to divide and conquer your kids.
For example,
“Look at Bella, she is such a good cleaner.”

I am trying to figure out a way that I can
make this system
more of a Harry Potter style.
Where
everyone
gains
and
loses
together.
I am thinking that may
unify the girls
a little bit more.
Go Griffendor Gold Girls.

Love is everything
Last week, I kissed my husband at the dinner table
and asked my kids if they knew how much I loved their dad.
All the girls gave a rapid yes
while covering their eyes and giving us the pukes.
I kept kissing.
And then asked,
“How do you know.”
Bella answered eagerly.
“Because you have four kids.”
LG about sprayed his Crystal Lite Lemonde
in the baby’s face.

“Right”, I told her.
And then declared to LG that I was going to have a great blog post.

Happy Anniversary to my husband of 13 years.
Who made this message possible.
With some good love making.

There are certain spelling mistakes that this mother can overlook.
Especially when it comes to love.

Oops
Look, Sophia got baptized.
We are so proud of her decision to take upon the name of Christ.
And, she is gorgeous.
Can you believe she picked this dress
at the thrift store for $3.
She HAD to have it.
It’s so Sophia.

“When was the big day”, you ask?
“In October 2009, on her 8th birthday.”
Oh, it’s August 2010; I must be late posting.

No, I just took this picture 2 weeks ago.
Because I realized that I had forgot.

Lucky for me, Sophia is really easy going.
And she can’t be mad at me for forgetting.
Because she covenanted to be Christ-like.

I wonder how long it will take for me to
remember child #3’s baptism picture?

Have I ever told you that mothers lose
brain cells with every pregnancy?
I am pretty sure that this old wives’ tale is true

(I have to say that my stone house makes a perfect backdrop.)

It’s too bad that Caroline was only 4 months old back then.
I may have gotten away with it.

No Brainer

While recently spending time at the local K-Town gem
I had an epiphany.

If God gave us some snapshots of life before we came to Earth.
Any snapshots of what our future would hold.
And He let us a choose a gender.
(I know that’s not how it really worked,
as I am pretty sure our gender was part of our creation.)

I am 100% certain that I chose girl.
I wanted to be a girl.
And if I could only have one or the other,
I wanted daughters.

It was pretty much a no-brainer.
Don’t you think?

Only Sophia

A little while back Sophia had some fun by saying that if she would have gotten her middle finger cut off she would have to say “give me four” when wanting a high five for the rest of her life.
 
I recently came across this picture, and wanted to share the funny story.
 
Raising Sophia is so much fun. She is hilarious. She is smart. She is beautiful. She is SWEET. And she is also blonde. Very blonde.
 
A few years back, as we were visiting my in-laws, for some reason, LeGrand and the girls and I ended up driving to church in Grammy’s van. Aunt Michelle was with us. Halfway to church, Sophia starts screaming from the back. We, being the experienced parents that we were, told her to knock it off. Michelle attentively found out what was going on. She calmly declared, “Her finger is stuck in the seatbelt.”
 
“Well pull it out”, I say. “It won’t come out”, Michelle says. Sophia is now crying with full force, which is slightly louder than a whimper. I forgot to tell you the girl is quiet. And although she has mostly outgrown it, she used to be terribly shy. I climb in the back of the van to take care of whatever it was that 22 year old Michelle couldn’t.
 
I was in for the shock of my life. HER FINGER WAS STUCK IN THE SEATBELT. What the heck? How did this happen? Sophia explained that she was just trying it on for size. You know, like a ring. What?.. had she worked her way up to the middle finger from the pinky? Well, she found the finger that it WOULDN’T fit. The middle finger was painfully and obviously TOO BIG. Honda Odyssey engineers must not have thought this one through. 3 year old stuck in a van + an empty middle seatbelt = an ultimate disaster.
 
I still thought I may be able to rectify things. I asked Michelle to hand me the A&D Ointment out of the diaper bag while thinking “thank goodness I still have one in diapers.” I slathered it good. The finger would still not budge. It wanted to keep that seatbelt on for the showing I guess. Sophia started really screaming good. I pulled hard to no avail. That thing, that ring, um, I mean that seatbelt was not coming off, and her finger was now swelling up good. The seatbelt started cutting into her skin.
 
By this time, we pulled into the church parking lot. LeGrand got in the back of the van to assess the damage. He calmly asked Michelle to go into the church building to get his dad. Papa came out and was astonished. Remember he is an engineer and he raised five kids….one of which, was Jordan. (a whole other story – one bragging rite was rescuing Jordan vs a hot water heater and although the hot water heater tried to shock Jordan to death, Jordan still won) Who would have guessed this could ever happen? Not any of us if we weren’t staring at it with our own eyes.
 
We decided I should try and get some ice from the church to see if we could get the swelling down. At this point, Sophia is resigned to be stuck in this van for a very long time. At least she had stopped screaming. The ice didn’t work. At all. It may have cooled her off a little but, that was about it. The only other thing we could think to do was call the fire department. I went in and found a NON EMERGENCY number and called. They questioned, “Her finger is stuck in the seatbelt?” “Yes”, I said, “but it is so much worse than that.” “We can’t get her out of the car.” With my brief explanation and their utter curiosity they said they would send someone out.
 
Meanwhile, we solicited the help from a prison doctor who happened to be attending church. He tried the trick of wrapping the string around the finger. It wasn’t even close to working. I guess it works on real rings…just not the steel kind. People from the earlier congregation start filling the parking lot as they were leaving. They looked over casually wondering what all these people were doing standing in the back of a van. It was July. It was hot. All of the sudden, you can hear the sirens. They are screaming from down the street and they are traveling fast. Could they possibly be for our Sophia? Why yes. They were.
 
First, the firetruck arrived. In LeGrand’s words, “Three big old firemen” all decked out in their flame resistant uniforms went to work. They assessed the situation and found a perfectly happy and shy little girl confined to a life in the backseat of a mini-van via seatbelt confusion. The confusion being theirs. They called the fire chief. He had to come and see for himself. Shortly after he arrived and checked things out for himself he said he had been the fire chief for thirty years and had never seen anything like this. Well there’s really no other way to celebrate America on the weekend of Independence Day, is there? The irony – no freedom to be found without the jaws of life.
 
Well, before they went as drastic as the jaws of life they decided that they would consult with their buddies, the paramedics. The paramedics offered nothing, except for some real eye candy for the people leaving church. We had a lot of gawkers. Not to blame them. How could they not wonder what was going on?A little girl in the back of a van. Emergency workers each taking turns checking out the situation. An array of emergency vehicles, inlcuding, but not limited to: a firetruck (with lights and sirens), an ambulance, a couple of police cars, and the truck of the fire chief.
 
Oh yeah, after putting all their heads together, what did they come up with? They were gonna have to cut her out. That was all they could do. They cut her out of the seatbelt and gave us their best advice, “Head on over to the emergency room to see if they can figure out some way to remove the metal from her hand”. “Oh, and tell your other kids not to play with the seat-belts in the future.” “Why thank you. Thank you so much.”
 
LG, Sophia, my father in law(Duane), and I head on over to the emergency room. We get to start it all over again. At the front desk. “Hi.” “hi.” “How can we help you?” We all look totally fine and we are dressed to the nines compared to the rest of the room because our Sunday worshop was apparently happening on their floor of the hospital. LeGrand starts to explain, “This is our daughter Sophia, she got her finger stuck in the seatbelt.” Blank stare. Me: “let me show you.” I held up her hand to the receptionist who immediately dropped her jaw in astonishment.
 
This exact scenario happened at least 20 more times while visiting the hospital. We finally just started throwing her hand into the faces of the medical gawkers. Everyone wanted to see what a finger looked like on a little girl who stuck it in a seatbelt. Nurses, doctors, janitors, desk workers, x-ray technicians. You name it. None of the emergency room docs knew what to do either. They tried the string trick, ice, but gave up shortly before the second round of A&D ointment.
 
It all ended with a visit from the orthopedic surgeon who declared, “we are going to have to do surgery with our diamond saw.” Are you kidding me?
 
As he started to explain that he was pretty steady with the saw, but there were still all kind of tragic possibilities including the loss of a finger, I quickly reminded him that LG was in law school and he better not screw up. He didn’t appreciate that. I started crying and begging him to not cut her finger off. He assured me that if he did cut it off, he would be able to most possibly successfully reattach it.
 
That was the longest hour of my life. The surgeon did a great job. I never did tell him that LeGrand wouldn’t have sued him even if he cut her whole hand off. I was so relieved that she was all in one piece.
 
Today, Sophia is really proud of two things. One- she was in a movie and two – she has a beautiful and modern ring that is an original. (I haven’t had the heart to tell her that has probably happened to someone else out there in this big world) The ring is cut into two pieces in her box of keepsakes and she is free to try it on whenever she feels a hankering. We figured that would be the surest way of keeping her away from the same exact seatbelts in our current van.
 
I wish I could have been at the Honda Dealership when my father in law was explaining the situation. He had to pull out a picture of WHY the fire department had actually cut the seatbelt out of the van. “She got her finger stuck in the seatbelt” just wasn’t cutting it.
 
Our hats go off to Honda who has a lifetime free replacement for their seatbelts. Maybe one of these days they will call to let our children safety test their vans. I am sure there are other possible disastrous scenarios that their engineers haven’t thought of. Adding a blonde child to their team could only help their safety regulations. I know four children that could give them a run for their money, as long as they won’t lose any fingers.
Adding this video in on 1/24/2014 for your reference to the string trick mentioned.

Codependence

Most people I know have no idea what codependence means. In fact, blogger does not even recognize the term. Here is the short definition from the wikipedia link:

Codependency or codependence is a tendency to behave in overly passive or excessively caretaking ways that negatively impact one’s relationships and quality of life. It also often involves putting one’s needs at a lower priority than others while being excessively preoccupied with the needs of others.

This post may not be really entertaining, as it is meant to be informative. I wish I would have heard of codependency a long time ago, as my recent study of codependency has made me an extremely healthier person. If you have known me for any length of time, you know codependent behavior. I fit the “controlling” part of codependency to a tee.
Control patterns:

  • I believe most other people are incapable of taking care of themselves.

  • I attempt to convince others of what they “should” think and how they “truly” feel.
  • I freely offer others advice and directions without being asked.
  • I lavish gifts and favors on those I care about.
  • I have to be “needed” in order to have a relationship with others.

Here is a little blossom analogy to help myself past trying to control. A few years back the girls and I were at my friend Valerie’s house. Her tree was full of gorgeous blooms. I lined my girls up for a great photo op. For over ten minutes, I kept telling them EXACTLY how to sit, look, and act. I got some good photos. It was so important to me to have that picture perfect photo. At the time, I wasn’t in touch with WHY this was so important to me. Through therapy I have finally discovered my need to be loved…part of that is my need to look perfect. I perpetuate that onto my family.

Aren’t they just about perfect? God has been good to me.


Well, after we were through with the torture session, the kids were free to be themselves again.

I kept shooting. They got into a blossom fight. It was so enjoyable to watch them have fun. It dawned on me that I had controlled them out of having fun for ten minutes. I was now getting BETTER photos with REAL expressions. And they were HAPPY. At that very moment, I realized that I was my own worst enemy. I had issues.

It was an ah-ha moment. I didn’t get to put a name to it until a year or so later. Codependency. Codependency has given me so much grief throughout my whole life. It has kept me from being happy so many times. It has also kept many of my loved ones from the happiness they deserve.
Codependents are people who need to be loved. Pure and simple. Many codependents are closely involved with addicts. I am not talking about the addicts in my life in this post. Maybe another time, but I am addressing my co-dependency. Why? Because people need to understand. Why not?
It is hard to know which comes first, a codependent or an addict. It is almost like that old riddle about the chicken or the egg. It is however easy to understand why codependents and addicts are attracted to each other like teenagers on Friday night. Addicts are a mess. Codependents are a mess. They feed off of each other. Codependents pick up all the pieces all the time. Addicts dish out all the problems. Codependents thrive on being needed because that makes them feel loved. Addicts need a codependent to help them to remain an addict. There is no one better to love or need a codependent more than a person with a bunch of problems.
Sometimes codependents create addicts. People get sick of being controlled and they rebel in form of addictions: alcoholism, abusiveness, sex addiction, gambling…they turn into addictions as a way of escaping the damage that their codependent loved one has etched into their sensitive soul.
I am working very hard at not being a codependent. I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to be the one who needs to be needed. I don’t want to be the one who has to control. I also don’t want to enable others. Most assuredly, I don’t want to negatively impact the people around me, especially the people who I love the most.
I mostly don’t want to be the crazy witch that goes nuts when everyone and everything she has been trying to hold together falls apart. I don’t want to take responsibility for others’ actions. I want to take responsibility for my own.
I don’t want to need to be loved. I want to love myself. I want my love and God’s love to be enough because anything I get on top of that is like an amazing overtime paycheck. I don’t want to suck all the energy from everyone in my life because no matter how much they love me, it’s never enough.
I will not be codependent any more because I want to be whole. I don’t want to be broken.
And more than anything, I want my children to be able to live lives full of carefree fun. I don’t want them to have to worry about their old mom who needs them so badly. I want them to be able to make mistakes and know that it won’t destroy their mother. I want them to know that their mom is happy, confident, and healthy, and that they can rely on her.
I encourage you to go to the link at the top of this page. Read about codependency. Educate yourselves so that you can recognize bad patterns and stop them before you do irreparable damage to yourself, your spouse, or your children. I think everyone has codependency to one degree or another, so it wouldn’t hurt to learn about it. And, even if you aren’t a codependent, I am sure that you know one, or two, or twenty, and it will help you to understand and love them better to be more aware of their challenges.
And you gotta admit it, you know you love me even more after reading this post. Even if I don’t need you to love me any more.

Wishful Thinking

Happy Birthday Big Guy.
I wish we could stay in bed all day.
And do nothing.
Or something.
But instead we will be
getting Caroline tubes in her ears,
closing your practice,
searching for a new job,
taking kids back to school shopping,
paying bills,
cleaning house,
and
working on church callings.
All of which will require us to get out of bed
VERY EARLY.
I’m so glad I married a morning person.
One of these days,
let’s get out of bed early,
and go somewhere
where we can stay in bed all day.

Really Important Stuff My Kids Have Taught Me #’s 4-6
From the book Really Important Stuff My Kids Have Taught Me
by Cynthia Copeland Lewis
#4
It’s more fun to color outside the lines.
(I think that the human hands would be in the outside the line category.)

#5
If you’re going to draw on the wall,
do it behind the couch.
(My Abigail would be the one to figure something like this out.
She is not only super smart, but super sneaky.)

#6
If the flowers you draw don’t look like anyone elses, that’s good.
(I want all my girls to know that they are uniquely beautiful and so are their ideas.
I hope they NEVER try to be like anybody else, even when the color.)

Happy coloring everyone.

Really Important Stuff My Kids Have Taught Me #1

I found a little gem of a book at our local used bookstore and quite possibly one of my favorite places on earth, McKay’s. The book was fifty cents and it’s filled with wisdom. A lot of wisdom is funny, go figure.

I am going to try and share the little tidbits from time to time, and of course, I will add my opinion to go with it.

Just in case you want to read the whole book yourself, it is called Really Important Stuff My Kids Have Taught Me. The author is Cynthia Copeland Lewis.
So on to #1
Jump right in or you might change your mind about swimming.
I live by this philosophy. Sometimes it gets me into things that I regret, but because I tend to jump into it and not look back, I get a lot done.
When you jump in wholeheartedly, you can’t back out. Are you midjump in something that you need to fully commit to?
Me personally, I need to jump into a freezing cold shower this morning to wake me up.