A friend of mine and I were day dreaming out loud about what we would do if we won the lottery. We laughed about the trips we would take, the shoes we would buy, the peace we would feel with millions of dollars in the bank.
It got me thinking about more realistic goals. We have no bills except for our house....what if we paid off the house? How would our lives be different without a mortgage payment? We wouldn't be thinner, or better looking. The kitchen sink would still be full of dirty dishes...but it would be our sink.
With a bit of extra money, we could take a family vacation somewhere that is not grandma's house. We could take a honeymoon at last. It makes me smile to think of the small things which would be easier if we had no mortgage. We're getting close enough to daydream about it, and it got me wondering what would you do if your house belonged to you and your paycheck were yours to spend, how would you spend it? Daydream with me a bit.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Why He's Still There
After my last post, I got lots of people saying "Pull him out now!" While there's a part of my which delights in that idea, a larger part is not ready. Let me explain why.
He hops out of my car every morning ready and eager for school. When he was learning at home, it was always a battle to get him to the table and an even bigger one to keep him there. He's excited about learning again. That's invaluable to me.
His teacher teaches in a manner which is as close to homeschooling in an institutional setting as it is possible to get. His teacher's daughter homeschools and she says she has gotten many ideas from her. Ideas such as planning the entire year around the Magic Tree House books. Not only is this a great idea which I love, but I'm stealing it for my own future third grade lesson plans.
The special ed teacher wants to help him and has a plan. She has compiled a list of things to do and try, if only she had an IEP so that she could. She ran into me in the hall last week and teared up in her frustration of being kept from helping him. She wants to help him and has a clue about how to get there. I have nothing. I can pull him out of school and let him read all day, but he wouldn't learn math. I don't know how to teach it to him and I can't afford the tutors who might be able to do so. Math is non-negotiable. He has to learn it.
It is not the teachers with whom I have an issue. It never has been. It is the traditional educational system which I despise. It is the bureaucracy which keeps children locked into routines which can not help them until the adults in charge get to them. It is the stupidity of a system which won't let teachers even talk to students without the approval of their higher ups even if the children need their help. It is the valuing of rules and the status quo over the individual child. It is making those rules and guidelines more important than my son.
This, together with the negative social aspects, makes me want to keep him home, but home to what? This is the question all home-educators must answer for themselves. Are we keeping them home because it is in their best interest or because we're afraid of the schools? For me and with this child, it would only be out of fear. There is still hope for him within those walls and that is why he is still there.
He hops out of my car every morning ready and eager for school. When he was learning at home, it was always a battle to get him to the table and an even bigger one to keep him there. He's excited about learning again. That's invaluable to me.
His teacher teaches in a manner which is as close to homeschooling in an institutional setting as it is possible to get. His teacher's daughter homeschools and she says she has gotten many ideas from her. Ideas such as planning the entire year around the Magic Tree House books. Not only is this a great idea which I love, but I'm stealing it for my own future third grade lesson plans.
The special ed teacher wants to help him and has a plan. She has compiled a list of things to do and try, if only she had an IEP so that she could. She ran into me in the hall last week and teared up in her frustration of being kept from helping him. She wants to help him and has a clue about how to get there. I have nothing. I can pull him out of school and let him read all day, but he wouldn't learn math. I don't know how to teach it to him and I can't afford the tutors who might be able to do so. Math is non-negotiable. He has to learn it.
It is not the teachers with whom I have an issue. It never has been. It is the traditional educational system which I despise. It is the bureaucracy which keeps children locked into routines which can not help them until the adults in charge get to them. It is the stupidity of a system which won't let teachers even talk to students without the approval of their higher ups even if the children need their help. It is the valuing of rules and the status quo over the individual child. It is making those rules and guidelines more important than my son.
This, together with the negative social aspects, makes me want to keep him home, but home to what? This is the question all home-educators must answer for themselves. Are we keeping them home because it is in their best interest or because we're afraid of the schools? For me and with this child, it would only be out of fear. There is still hope for him within those walls and that is why he is still there.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Setting Christianity Aside for a Moment
My in-laws came into town this weekend to say good-bye to my father-in-law's mother. The nice thing for us was that it meant we got to see them, too.
Saturday afternoon, my mother-in-law and I took my girls shopping for clothes and sparkly things and just enjoying a moment of girliness in the midst of an emotional weekend. At some point during the afternoon, the conversation turned to #3 and public school. She wanted to know how he was doing and if we were still feeling as if we made the right decision.
I explained to her my mixed feelings and growing unease about the entire situation. He likes school, and our household is calmer during the day without his hyper energy. These are the pluses. On the minus side, is the shift in his attitude toward us as the main authority figures in his life, the bad words he has learned (but doesn't repeat.....yet), and this new defiant attitude he has discovered. Plus, we miss him. I miss being his mom during the day. I want desperately to bring him home, but know that the help he needs is in the school. If only he were getting it.
All of the negative would be counter-balanced by the help he was getting in math, if only he were getting help. He's not yet. The school has a new psychologist who has to go through the files of every child requiring special help. She began with the children who were already in the school, followed that up with the inter-district transfers, and on October 2nd will finally begin to look at the paperwork of the new students. She should be getting to his file during the second week of the month. He will have been in school for 9 weeks before they began to even think about what to do with him. We should be having his IEP meeting in November. As I feared, we have wasted an entire semester and he has fallen further behind.
I fought back tears as I explained this to his grandmother. She can sympathize with my pain, but I don't think she understands it. When he boys were young, you sent them to school and didn't agonize over the things which keep me up at night. She tried to tell me that this was just the way bureaucracies work and that I needed to make peace with this fact. They have hundreds of children to help not just my one little boy. I need to be patient.
Logically I knew she was right. The Christian in me said that all children deserved to be treated and helped equally and that my one child was not more precious than any other child in his school. Then the mom in me screamed "NO!"
I understand that what she says is true, but I refuse to accept it. I can not worry about those other children. They are not my responsibility. They have mothers of their own and they are not me. As much as my soul rebels at demanding preferential treatment, I have to do so. If I do not, he will not get the help which is the sole reason for his being handed over to the government's school.
I was patient and waited until the parent teacher conference last Friday. When I learned that he hadn't even seen the tutor, met the psychologist, or even been assessed in the entire time he had been in their care....I decided that my days of nice are over. All children may be precious and it may be wrong for me to ignore their need, but if I do not then I have failed as a mother.
This child was entrusted to me by God. It is my job to love, protect and educate him. I can not fail in any of these. I must set my love of others aside and become only his mom. I have to ignore the tug in my heart and the prick to my conscience and learn to demand. I have to become the loudest voice insisting upon their attention. We have only until we move in May and then we will have to start over again. I have to get him all of the aid I can in the short time we have left.
I have heard a line about squeaky wheels getting grease. It just means that she who screams the loudest gets the help first. I'm preparing to hop him to the front of the line. I have to learn to yell
Saturday afternoon, my mother-in-law and I took my girls shopping for clothes and sparkly things and just enjoying a moment of girliness in the midst of an emotional weekend. At some point during the afternoon, the conversation turned to #3 and public school. She wanted to know how he was doing and if we were still feeling as if we made the right decision.
I explained to her my mixed feelings and growing unease about the entire situation. He likes school, and our household is calmer during the day without his hyper energy. These are the pluses. On the minus side, is the shift in his attitude toward us as the main authority figures in his life, the bad words he has learned (but doesn't repeat.....yet), and this new defiant attitude he has discovered. Plus, we miss him. I miss being his mom during the day. I want desperately to bring him home, but know that the help he needs is in the school. If only he were getting it.
All of the negative would be counter-balanced by the help he was getting in math, if only he were getting help. He's not yet. The school has a new psychologist who has to go through the files of every child requiring special help. She began with the children who were already in the school, followed that up with the inter-district transfers, and on October 2nd will finally begin to look at the paperwork of the new students. She should be getting to his file during the second week of the month. He will have been in school for 9 weeks before they began to even think about what to do with him. We should be having his IEP meeting in November. As I feared, we have wasted an entire semester and he has fallen further behind.
I fought back tears as I explained this to his grandmother. She can sympathize with my pain, but I don't think she understands it. When he boys were young, you sent them to school and didn't agonize over the things which keep me up at night. She tried to tell me that this was just the way bureaucracies work and that I needed to make peace with this fact. They have hundreds of children to help not just my one little boy. I need to be patient.
Logically I knew she was right. The Christian in me said that all children deserved to be treated and helped equally and that my one child was not more precious than any other child in his school. Then the mom in me screamed "NO!"
I understand that what she says is true, but I refuse to accept it. I can not worry about those other children. They are not my responsibility. They have mothers of their own and they are not me. As much as my soul rebels at demanding preferential treatment, I have to do so. If I do not, he will not get the help which is the sole reason for his being handed over to the government's school.
I was patient and waited until the parent teacher conference last Friday. When I learned that he hadn't even seen the tutor, met the psychologist, or even been assessed in the entire time he had been in their care....I decided that my days of nice are over. All children may be precious and it may be wrong for me to ignore their need, but if I do not then I have failed as a mother.
This child was entrusted to me by God. It is my job to love, protect and educate him. I can not fail in any of these. I must set my love of others aside and become only his mom. I have to ignore the tug in my heart and the prick to my conscience and learn to demand. I have to become the loudest voice insisting upon their attention. We have only until we move in May and then we will have to start over again. I have to get him all of the aid I can in the short time we have left.
I have heard a line about squeaky wheels getting grease. It just means that she who screams the loudest gets the help first. I'm preparing to hop him to the front of the line. I have to learn to yell
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Home With a Side Trip Through Atlanta
My beloved Computer Guy has been gone all week to a convention in Las Vegas. He'd never been there before and was a bit curious as to what all the fuss was about. He didn't sound that impressed with Sin City, but he thought Salt Lake City was beautiful.
His flight home was delayed by two flat tires and a missed flight. Instead of happily snoring next to me, he's spending the night in Salt Lake City at the expense of the airline. His suitcase is sleeping in Atlanta. How did it get to Atlanta on an itinerary of Vegas-SLC-OKC? I suspect that only the airlines know the answer to that. It is one of the great mysteries of the modern age....why does all lost luggage end up in Atlanta?
We've missed him terribly this week. I had no idea how much our lives revolved around him until we removed him from them. His comings and goings are the schedule around which we plan our days. His waking up awakens me every morning, and his snoring is what sings me to sleep. I complain about it, but without the sound of his deep, restful breathing it is too quiet to sleep.
We have been married for more than 14 years, and I don't like to spend even one night apart. I still like him enough to prefer his company to any other. That's probably a good thing since I plan on hanging around with him for quite a few years more.
When we were first married ( after living together for over a year), my mother in law asked me what I thought of being married. I shrugged my shoulders and replied, "It's not that different. We just have better dishes now." Her eyebrow went up, but she never said anything, bless her. I think back to that answer and it makes me smile at my own naivete and at hers in asking such a deep question of such a silly girl. A month after the wedding I had no idea what being married was all about. I couldn't even being to imagine the trials and triumphs we had in store for us. I didn't yet know enough to answer that question. I'm not sure I know enough yet. I learn something new about marriage everyday. Perhaps when we've been married 60 years I may be ready to tell her what I think of being married.
What do I think today? Marrying that guy was one of the best decisions I've made. I can't imagine wanting to do anything more than I want to be his wife. I thank God daily for thinking I was worthy of marrying him. I can't wait for his plane to land. Being apart is great for showing me how much I truly love him and for the reunions. ;)
His flight home was delayed by two flat tires and a missed flight. Instead of happily snoring next to me, he's spending the night in Salt Lake City at the expense of the airline. His suitcase is sleeping in Atlanta. How did it get to Atlanta on an itinerary of Vegas-SLC-OKC? I suspect that only the airlines know the answer to that. It is one of the great mysteries of the modern age....why does all lost luggage end up in Atlanta?
We've missed him terribly this week. I had no idea how much our lives revolved around him until we removed him from them. His comings and goings are the schedule around which we plan our days. His waking up awakens me every morning, and his snoring is what sings me to sleep. I complain about it, but without the sound of his deep, restful breathing it is too quiet to sleep.
We have been married for more than 14 years, and I don't like to spend even one night apart. I still like him enough to prefer his company to any other. That's probably a good thing since I plan on hanging around with him for quite a few years more.
When we were first married ( after living together for over a year), my mother in law asked me what I thought of being married. I shrugged my shoulders and replied, "It's not that different. We just have better dishes now." Her eyebrow went up, but she never said anything, bless her. I think back to that answer and it makes me smile at my own naivete and at hers in asking such a deep question of such a silly girl. A month after the wedding I had no idea what being married was all about. I couldn't even being to imagine the trials and triumphs we had in store for us. I didn't yet know enough to answer that question. I'm not sure I know enough yet. I learn something new about marriage everyday. Perhaps when we've been married 60 years I may be ready to tell her what I think of being married.
What do I think today? Marrying that guy was one of the best decisions I've made. I can't imagine wanting to do anything more than I want to be his wife. I thank God daily for thinking I was worthy of marrying him. I can't wait for his plane to land. Being apart is great for showing me how much I truly love him and for the reunions. ;)
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Accepting the Inevitable
My husband's grandmother is dying. This isn't news to us. She's been dying for a few years now. It just seems to be speeding up and possibly nearing the end at last.
I'm happy for her. She's ready to go. "I just miss my Ruben," she says, when she talks about it (which isn't often.) It has been over 15 years since her husband died. That's a long time to be alone.
Her children are not ready for life without her. She is a wonderful and amazing woman and the hole she will leave in our family will be huge. She is irreplaceable to us and they aren't yet at a place of admitting the inevitable. They don't want to even think of life without her in it.
I don't really understand it. Death was such a part of life when I was growing up that I don't find it uncomfortable at all. People died and life went on. My husband's family is different. They don't talk about things the way we did. Sickness and death just aren't topics of conversation they have. They don't discuss unpleasant things. There may be merit in doing it their way. Their family gets along and mine is a story for another day.
But I can't get past the fact that she is dying. I don't know how to pretend anything else. I don't know how to ignore the obvious. For the first time in a long time, I really feel like an outsider in this family. I don't know what the right things are to say, and I don't know if I could say them if I did. I'm just going to sit here quietly and pray and be secretly thrilled for her. She's going to see her God and her love. Where's the sorrow in that?
I'm happy for her. She's ready to go. "I just miss my Ruben," she says, when she talks about it (which isn't often.) It has been over 15 years since her husband died. That's a long time to be alone.
Her children are not ready for life without her. She is a wonderful and amazing woman and the hole she will leave in our family will be huge. She is irreplaceable to us and they aren't yet at a place of admitting the inevitable. They don't want to even think of life without her in it.
I don't really understand it. Death was such a part of life when I was growing up that I don't find it uncomfortable at all. People died and life went on. My husband's family is different. They don't talk about things the way we did. Sickness and death just aren't topics of conversation they have. They don't discuss unpleasant things. There may be merit in doing it their way. Their family gets along and mine is a story for another day.
But I can't get past the fact that she is dying. I don't know how to pretend anything else. I don't know how to ignore the obvious. For the first time in a long time, I really feel like an outsider in this family. I don't know what the right things are to say, and I don't know if I could say them if I did. I'm just going to sit here quietly and pray and be secretly thrilled for her. She's going to see her God and her love. Where's the sorrow in that?
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
I Want To Be This Cool
or at least be allowed to hang out with them. You think they'd let a Catholic sing in their band?
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Setting the Example
There's a young couple at church that we like hanging out with. They're in their twenties and just starting out, but so smart and fun that they just are miles and years ahead of where we were at that age. They don't treat us like the old fogeys we are, who wouldn't like that?
Last weekend after Mass, she remarked to me that I gave her hope that moms of big families could be stylish and wear something other than plaid or denim jumpers. I'm thrilled that she thinks I'm stylish, I try but have my doubts sometimes. Her comment got me to wondering why does having children automatically equal frumpiness?
We try to encourage our children about the wonders and joy of a big family, but what message does the way we look send to them? It is difficult to speak of the beauty of this life when the face we give it is outdated and unattractive. We say that physical appearances shouldn't matter, that it's the inside that counts. Let's be honest, the outside matters, too. It's not the most important thing, but if we are walking through life with grizzled, frizzy hair, ill-fitting clothes, and a sullen expression....who wants to be that?
It's hard to be a woman and understand how clothes are supposed to fit us. What looks amazing at 20 looks dreadful at 40 and ghastly at 60. Our bodies change radically after having babies, but we don't want to admit it even to ourselves. We keep wishing for that 20 year old body and so never learn to work with what we have. It's a shame, because grown up women can look amazing and feel so good about themselves if they are simply honest about what's in the mirror.
We need to not be afraid to try things on or to take a brutally honest friend to the store when we shop. (Have I mentioned the importance of an honest friend before?) It doesn't have to be as difficult as we let it become. We hang on to clothes we once loved but can't wear because some day we will lose that belly and they will look amazing. We won't ever totally lose the belly, and if we did the clothes would be outdated anyway.
So what am I talking about? Just basic good care and maintenance. Most moms aren't going to look like fashion models, but we can at least put as much effort into our own looks as we do into our children's appearances. (It drives me crazy to see little girls decked out from the flower in their hair to the cute shoes on their feet while mom tries to be invisible in her hole-y t-shirt and torn, frayed jeans and flip flops. Mom deserves better.)
We just need to begin and the rest will follow. (Me as much as anyone.) Here's my to-do list:
I'll go first.
Last weekend after Mass, she remarked to me that I gave her hope that moms of big families could be stylish and wear something other than plaid or denim jumpers. I'm thrilled that she thinks I'm stylish, I try but have my doubts sometimes. Her comment got me to wondering why does having children automatically equal frumpiness?
We try to encourage our children about the wonders and joy of a big family, but what message does the way we look send to them? It is difficult to speak of the beauty of this life when the face we give it is outdated and unattractive. We say that physical appearances shouldn't matter, that it's the inside that counts. Let's be honest, the outside matters, too. It's not the most important thing, but if we are walking through life with grizzled, frizzy hair, ill-fitting clothes, and a sullen expression....who wants to be that?
It's hard to be a woman and understand how clothes are supposed to fit us. What looks amazing at 20 looks dreadful at 40 and ghastly at 60. Our bodies change radically after having babies, but we don't want to admit it even to ourselves. We keep wishing for that 20 year old body and so never learn to work with what we have. It's a shame, because grown up women can look amazing and feel so good about themselves if they are simply honest about what's in the mirror.
We need to not be afraid to try things on or to take a brutally honest friend to the store when we shop. (Have I mentioned the importance of an honest friend before?) It doesn't have to be as difficult as we let it become. We hang on to clothes we once loved but can't wear because some day we will lose that belly and they will look amazing. We won't ever totally lose the belly, and if we did the clothes would be outdated anyway.
So what am I talking about? Just basic good care and maintenance. Most moms aren't going to look like fashion models, but we can at least put as much effort into our own looks as we do into our children's appearances. (It drives me crazy to see little girls decked out from the flower in their hair to the cute shoes on their feet while mom tries to be invisible in her hole-y t-shirt and torn, frayed jeans and flip flops. Mom deserves better.)
We just need to begin and the rest will follow. (Me as much as anyone.) Here's my to-do list:
- Start with a bra that fits. It's shocking how difficult this can be. Victoria's Secret will measure and fit you for free!!!!! You don't even have to buy a bra there.
- Buy the best bra you can afford. It makes such a difference in how your clothes fit and how you feel about your body. The right bra can make you look 10 lbs lighter. Try them on.
- Fix your hair every day. Even the ubiquitous pony tail can be cute if you make an effort for it to be. It takes an extra 5 minutes in the morning. If you have time to read this blog, you have time to fix your hair. Hot rollers are your friend!
- Unless you have curly hair, then please use a pick and not a brush. You have no idea how jealous I am of girls with curly hair or how sad I get when I see those gorgeous curls frizzed out. Pick! Pick! Pick!
- Clothes with holes or stains should be mended or thrown out. (I'm so guilty of this.) There is no hole so small that it doesn't matter. T-shirts are cheap. Buy a new one.
- Buy fitted clothes. Seams make you look thinner. Big boxy tops and dresses make you look like a box. You're a girl. You have curves. Love them.
- Covered up is prettier than exposed, but modest doesn't have to mean frumpy. Experiment with layers!
- Invest in a jacket that looks good on you. I have denim and khaki ones which I love. They make any outfit looked pulled together just by throwing them on.
- Lipstick and mascara make a huge difference and take little to no time to apply. Why wouldn't you?
- Two words: eyelash curler
- DEODORANT!!!! (This is not an issue for me, but some of you.....you know who you are.)
- Cute shoes can lift up an ordinary outfit and make it memorable. They don't have to be mile high heels, but something you like.
- Polish those shoes. Shiny shoes just make me smile and feel good.
- Remember that in 10 years you'll look at pictures of yourself now and think, "I was so cute then. What was I complaining about?"
- Smile. It's free and it will improve your appearance and the way you feel more than anything else you can do. (Other than the bra thing. I was serious about that.)
I'll go first.
Mental Meanderings of Me
We had a young single woman we know over for dinner on Friday night. She was talking about marriage and how the people she knows don't really know if that "piece of paper" is really all that important. I was beginning in on a long winded explanation of why marriage is a good thing, when my husband said in his calm and quiet voice, "It's good for your soul. I don't just mean in the go-to-Heaven way. Marriage brings you joy and calm and peace. I honestly don't know where I'd be without my wife."
Sigh....he's pretty dreamy.
***********************************************************
I don't know what my three year old will grow up to be, but I'm pretty sure he won't be an English teacher. This weekend, he said to me:
"My cup is yuck. You shall be please to be washing my cup."
"How shall to be that flag get up there?"
About his little brother.."Can I want to kiss him?"
************************************************************
I would like to find the previous owner of our house and let him know that he's not as handy as he imagines himself to be. Note to him: you can't hot glue pipes together, or install showers without shower pans or paint the outside of a house with interior paint. Just because it's pretty doesn't mean it works.
Please hire professionals next time.
***********************************************************
We were hanging out with friends this afternoon and playing a version of the Newlywed Game. I didn't miss a single question about the Computer Guy. My friend was surprised that I got them all correct. I'm not. I love him.
***********************************************************
I'm weaning the baby this week. It's time. It makes me sad that he won't be as much a baby, but glad to get my body back.
***********************************************************
I took my daughter bra shopping this weekend. Why are my bras plain and boring, but hers can't be bought in a plain version? The closest we found were beige with rhinestones in a heart. Who do they think is going to be seeing it? She's 13. What kind of pedophile is designing girls' underwear? It's a sad day when we end up shopping for her at Victoria's Secret because their bras are the most age appropriate.
***********************************************************
There is chocolate pie in the kitchen. It is calling to me. I'd better go do my yoga.
Sigh....he's pretty dreamy.
***********************************************************
I don't know what my three year old will grow up to be, but I'm pretty sure he won't be an English teacher. This weekend, he said to me:
"My cup is yuck. You shall be please to be washing my cup."
"How shall to be that flag get up there?"
About his little brother.."Can I want to kiss him?"
************************************************************
I would like to find the previous owner of our house and let him know that he's not as handy as he imagines himself to be. Note to him: you can't hot glue pipes together, or install showers without shower pans or paint the outside of a house with interior paint. Just because it's pretty doesn't mean it works.
Please hire professionals next time.
***********************************************************
We were hanging out with friends this afternoon and playing a version of the Newlywed Game. I didn't miss a single question about the Computer Guy. My friend was surprised that I got them all correct. I'm not. I love him.
***********************************************************
I'm weaning the baby this week. It's time. It makes me sad that he won't be as much a baby, but glad to get my body back.
***********************************************************
I took my daughter bra shopping this weekend. Why are my bras plain and boring, but hers can't be bought in a plain version? The closest we found were beige with rhinestones in a heart. Who do they think is going to be seeing it? She's 13. What kind of pedophile is designing girls' underwear? It's a sad day when we end up shopping for her at Victoria's Secret because their bras are the most age appropriate.
***********************************************************
There is chocolate pie in the kitchen. It is calling to me. I'd better go do my yoga.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Spend My Money!
CSN online stores contacted me again wanting to throw money in my direction (or a gift certificate). This time, the money is for me! There's only one catch......you get to tell me how to spend it. I'm biting my nails here and hoping that you pay attention.....*cough* shoes *cough*
I'll give you 2 days to shop for a coffee table for staging my living room, mile high heels, something to help me with my new workout routine, a cool and funky glass vase for my china cabinet, or any old ding dong thing you think I should buy.
Leave your suggestions with the link in the com box. We'll vote on Friday and I'll buy it on Saturday. I'll cross my fingers and hope you're kind. Thanks for reading and happy shopping!
P.S. The person with the winning suggestion gets a little something just from me!
I'll give you 2 days to shop for a coffee table for staging my living room, mile high heels, something to help me with my new workout routine, a cool and funky glass vase for my china cabinet, or any old ding dong thing you think I should buy.
Leave your suggestions with the link in the com box. We'll vote on Friday and I'll buy it on Saturday. I'll cross my fingers and hope you're kind. Thanks for reading and happy shopping!
P.S. The person with the winning suggestion gets a little something just from me!
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Improvements
I sat down yesterday to make a list of all the little things (and not so little) in our house which need to be fixed and done before we can put it on the market in February. Many of them are all the things I had planned to slowly change and do to make this house truly ours. It's funny that they will be done to make it ours-no-longer. It's kind of sad to think that we will not be the ones to benefit from all of the work we have to do.
The back door that has to be closed just right, the window screen which needs to be restretched, the walls which need to be repainted....all need to be done, but why does it take someone else to do them for? Why don't we get right on it and fix them up for ourselves? We have such a small amount of"down time" that we are loathe to spend it on anything which can wait for another day. We'd rather spend time with each other.
This is the way life is. We all work to improve the world in which we live so that the new occupants can benefit from all that we have done. We may never see the end result of our hard work, but those who come after us will be so glad that we invested the time and effort to do it right.
Just please, somewhere in Texas, can there be someone who is making a list to make things good for us?
The back door that has to be closed just right, the window screen which needs to be restretched, the walls which need to be repainted....all need to be done, but why does it take someone else to do them for? Why don't we get right on it and fix them up for ourselves? We have such a small amount of"down time" that we are loathe to spend it on anything which can wait for another day. We'd rather spend time with each other.
This is the way life is. We all work to improve the world in which we live so that the new occupants can benefit from all that we have done. We may never see the end result of our hard work, but those who come after us will be so glad that we invested the time and effort to do it right.
Just please, somewhere in Texas, can there be someone who is making a list to make things good for us?
Monday, September 13, 2010
Parenting by Proxy
People keep asking me how the school situation is going with #3. It's such a difficult question. I'm never really sure how to answer it honestly. He likes it, but comes home from the school day completely exhausted. He's ready to head back in the mornings, but complains about the length of the school day. I agree with him. It's too long.
He now spends more waking hours with strangers than he does with his own family. We miss him, and he misses us. In his eyes, the perfect solution would be for his teacher and classmates to come to our house for school. I would, but I'm not sure where we would put everyone.
I'm finding it difficult to be a part-time parent. The few hours I get with him every night after homework is done and the neighborhood children are played with, is just not enough. This is the major drawback I have seen to traditional schooling. The Computer Guy and I have to share parenting with people we don't know. They spend much more time with him than do we. It's just a numbers game. Most of the time he's under our roof he's sleeping.
I don't know how other parents do this every day without the angst. How can I say that I am parenting him when I get to spend only an hour or two a night with him before bedtime routines begin? How do I shoehorn in all that he needs to know in such a short amount of time? How do other parents reconcile themselves to this? Is it just what we do, so it must be the right thing to do?
I am watching my little boy assume the shape that other people are molding him into being. So far, it is one I can live with, but the power over him that this implies is a bit frightening. How can I protect a child I do not see? I know that eventually we have to let them go, but everything in me says that this is too much way too soon.
How do we balance his need for an education with his need for parents? This is the answer to how is his schooling going? It is a lopsided, backwards tightrope walk and I can't help but feel as if we're missing something....and that the something might be him.
He now spends more waking hours with strangers than he does with his own family. We miss him, and he misses us. In his eyes, the perfect solution would be for his teacher and classmates to come to our house for school. I would, but I'm not sure where we would put everyone.
I'm finding it difficult to be a part-time parent. The few hours I get with him every night after homework is done and the neighborhood children are played with, is just not enough. This is the major drawback I have seen to traditional schooling. The Computer Guy and I have to share parenting with people we don't know. They spend much more time with him than do we. It's just a numbers game. Most of the time he's under our roof he's sleeping.
I don't know how other parents do this every day without the angst. How can I say that I am parenting him when I get to spend only an hour or two a night with him before bedtime routines begin? How do I shoehorn in all that he needs to know in such a short amount of time? How do other parents reconcile themselves to this? Is it just what we do, so it must be the right thing to do?
I am watching my little boy assume the shape that other people are molding him into being. So far, it is one I can live with, but the power over him that this implies is a bit frightening. How can I protect a child I do not see? I know that eventually we have to let them go, but everything in me says that this is too much way too soon.
How do we balance his need for an education with his need for parents? This is the answer to how is his schooling going? It is a lopsided, backwards tightrope walk and I can't help but feel as if we're missing something....and that the something might be him.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Restaurant Bans Insensitive Parents
The owner of the Olde Salty Restaurant in Carolina Beach, NC recently posted a sign on her front door which read “Screaming Children Will NOT Be Tolerated!” The internets are all up in arms about how the whole world is becoming intolerant of children. I disagree. I think we are becoming intolerant of negligent parenting.
Too many times, the Computer Guy and I have gone out to dinner or a movie (with or without our children) only to be treated to the non-stop screaming of the little cherub right next to us. Most parents we see seem completely unruffled by their children's annoying little quirks, like throwing all of their food at the other people in the restaurant or painting the walls with their dinners. Maybe we are old fashioned, but when our children get out of hand (and they do because we are far from perfect parents) we leave. We get to go boxes and leave the restaurant. Has eating out become so common-place that people now no longer regard restaurants as a treat but the same way they would their own kitchens?
Perhaps I have become an old curmudgeon, but I applaud the efforts of the good people of North Carolina who want their customers to enjoy their dinners and know that a bad dining experience will leave a bad taste in the mouth no matter who is to blame. These loud children are offending not just the other patrons, but the business owner's bottom line.
People are tired of parents who just don't care. They're tired of little darlings who run amok because their parents don't want to discipline the little dears. Well done, parents, now people are putting up signs that you are no longer welcome.
What's the solution? How about actually parenting your children. Imagine a world where children are taught that they are not the absolute center of everything or universally adored, a world where we could all eat in peace. A place where a crying baby is the exception and arouses sympathy and a kind stranger to jiggle the baby while mom eats (which I've done many times) instead of exasperation and rolling eyes. A dream of a world where parents are parents and children know how to behave in public.
Until that time, I won't be surprised to see more of these signs, and you can bet that I'll be eating at the places that have them.
Too many times, the Computer Guy and I have gone out to dinner or a movie (with or without our children) only to be treated to the non-stop screaming of the little cherub right next to us. Most parents we see seem completely unruffled by their children's annoying little quirks, like throwing all of their food at the other people in the restaurant or painting the walls with their dinners. Maybe we are old fashioned, but when our children get out of hand (and they do because we are far from perfect parents) we leave. We get to go boxes and leave the restaurant. Has eating out become so common-place that people now no longer regard restaurants as a treat but the same way they would their own kitchens?
Perhaps I have become an old curmudgeon, but I applaud the efforts of the good people of North Carolina who want their customers to enjoy their dinners and know that a bad dining experience will leave a bad taste in the mouth no matter who is to blame. These loud children are offending not just the other patrons, but the business owner's bottom line.
People are tired of parents who just don't care. They're tired of little darlings who run amok because their parents don't want to discipline the little dears. Well done, parents, now people are putting up signs that you are no longer welcome.
What's the solution? How about actually parenting your children. Imagine a world where children are taught that they are not the absolute center of everything or universally adored, a world where we could all eat in peace. A place where a crying baby is the exception and arouses sympathy and a kind stranger to jiggle the baby while mom eats (which I've done many times) instead of exasperation and rolling eyes. A dream of a world where parents are parents and children know how to behave in public.
Until that time, I won't be surprised to see more of these signs, and you can bet that I'll be eating at the places that have them.
I Could Make a Fortune
Marketing the new "6 in a Box"
The camera cord that won't stay out of the way? Not so much.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Close Call
This afternoon, we were in a car accident. I was taking #2 and #4 (ages 10 and 6) downtown on an errand. It was raining, but not too hard. We were going about 70 on the highway when the truck in front of us ran over a piece of metal and kicked it up in our direction.
I had a split second of watching a 3 foot long piece of pipe come flying towards my SUV with no where to move to escape it. I just watched it come at us. 3 feet of flying metal at 70 miles an hour.
It slammed into the grill of the car and we heard a crunch and then the sound of broken glass. My 6 year old shrieked and then started to cry. I calmly and brightly said, "Some big thing just hit the front of the car. We're all okay, but I need to get off the highway and see if the car is broken or not." In my head I was thinking "Sh--. That hit the grill. Decorative bits are expensive. We just paid off all our bills and have a small emergency fund. This is going to cost thousands to fix. What is our deductible? There goes all our hard work."
I called the Computer Guy, who was on the way to a job site a few hours south, and said, "I got hit by flying metal which some car in front of us kicked up. I don't know the extent of the damage. I'll call you back when I do."
There was silence on the phone and then he replied, "Did you get the other guy's tag number?"
WTF?!? "No, I was too busy watching the huge metal thing flying at us."
Is this a man thing? Every guy I talked to today asked the same first question, "Did you write down his tag?" They all just assumed I was okay since it was me calling and not the cops. Women are different. They want to know how you are and then hear the details. Men want to know about the car.
The mechanic whistled when he saw the damage and said, "if you'd been driving a shorter car or been a few feet back, you'd be dead now." He's a former EMT and has seen his share of nasty crashes. I'll take his word for it.
Today was the first time in a long while in which we prayed for a safe journey as we left the house. I had a nagging feeling we would need the help and less than 10 minutes later we did. We'll be going to Mass tomorrow morning to say Thank You, but you can bet we'll be praying for safety before we even leave the driveway.
P.S. The car will be fine. It has a busted headlight and some loose trim which the mechanic easily popped back on. The total in repairs will be less than $100. Do you know what a relief that is? Do you know how blessed we feel tonight?
I had a split second of watching a 3 foot long piece of pipe come flying towards my SUV with no where to move to escape it. I just watched it come at us. 3 feet of flying metal at 70 miles an hour.
It slammed into the grill of the car and we heard a crunch and then the sound of broken glass. My 6 year old shrieked and then started to cry. I calmly and brightly said, "Some big thing just hit the front of the car. We're all okay, but I need to get off the highway and see if the car is broken or not." In my head I was thinking "Sh--. That hit the grill. Decorative bits are expensive. We just paid off all our bills and have a small emergency fund. This is going to cost thousands to fix. What is our deductible? There goes all our hard work."
I called the Computer Guy, who was on the way to a job site a few hours south, and said, "I got hit by flying metal which some car in front of us kicked up. I don't know the extent of the damage. I'll call you back when I do."
There was silence on the phone and then he replied, "Did you get the other guy's tag number?"
WTF?!? "No, I was too busy watching the huge metal thing flying at us."
Is this a man thing? Every guy I talked to today asked the same first question, "Did you write down his tag?" They all just assumed I was okay since it was me calling and not the cops. Women are different. They want to know how you are and then hear the details. Men want to know about the car.
The mechanic whistled when he saw the damage and said, "if you'd been driving a shorter car or been a few feet back, you'd be dead now." He's a former EMT and has seen his share of nasty crashes. I'll take his word for it.
Today was the first time in a long while in which we prayed for a safe journey as we left the house. I had a nagging feeling we would need the help and less than 10 minutes later we did. We'll be going to Mass tomorrow morning to say Thank You, but you can bet we'll be praying for safety before we even leave the driveway.
P.S. The car will be fine. It has a busted headlight and some loose trim which the mechanic easily popped back on. The total in repairs will be less than $100. Do you know what a relief that is? Do you know how blessed we feel tonight?
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
The Democrats and I Are in Charge....It's the Republicans' Fault
President Obama has been making a lot of speeches lately. He's talking about the economy, jobs, healthcare, how horrible the Republicans are, and some dumb car that is in a ditch and people are trying to drive it....I think maybe he needs a mechanic and is looking for recommendations.
I keep listening to what he's saying (I'm sure that it's good for Purgatory Time Off) and what he's not saying. It all boils down to "pay no attention to me and my buddies, the Republicans did it." For once, Mr President, I agree with you. It is the Republicans' fault.
The Repubs had control of both houses of Congress and the White House for long enough to pass their agendas. They didn't do it. They were either too scared of the media, weren't really all that into what Republicans say they believe, or just wanted to stay on the guest list for the Democrats' parties. I don't blame them, the Dems throw some rocking parties, the media is scary, and it's a long standing tradition for politicians to just say what we want to hear and then do nothing about it. The truth of it is that when Republicans are Republicans they get elected; when they are Democrat-lite they don't.
So, I agree with the President that this is the Republicans' fault. They didn't make the tax cuts permanent, protect human life, ban cloning or any of the other things they were elected and hoped to accomplish. Now, they are working furiously to block legislation which never would have been possible if they had done their jobs in the first place. Lucky for them, the Dems were a disaster and the Republicans get a do over. They had better do something with this opportunity or risk losing the support of Conservative voters.
Now about that car metaphor....it's in a ditch and the drivers can't drive it because the wheels have come off during the incredible amount of time that this whole bad comparison has been going on. Conservative Republicans are poised to swoop in and fix Obama's jalopy this Fall, at which time he may find that his broken down car is really a dead horse he's been flailing at for far too long.
I keep listening to what he's saying (I'm sure that it's good for Purgatory Time Off) and what he's not saying. It all boils down to "pay no attention to me and my buddies, the Republicans did it." For once, Mr President, I agree with you. It is the Republicans' fault.
The Repubs had control of both houses of Congress and the White House for long enough to pass their agendas. They didn't do it. They were either too scared of the media, weren't really all that into what Republicans say they believe, or just wanted to stay on the guest list for the Democrats' parties. I don't blame them, the Dems throw some rocking parties, the media is scary, and it's a long standing tradition for politicians to just say what we want to hear and then do nothing about it. The truth of it is that when Republicans are Republicans they get elected; when they are Democrat-lite they don't.
So, I agree with the President that this is the Republicans' fault. They didn't make the tax cuts permanent, protect human life, ban cloning or any of the other things they were elected and hoped to accomplish. Now, they are working furiously to block legislation which never would have been possible if they had done their jobs in the first place. Lucky for them, the Dems were a disaster and the Republicans get a do over. They had better do something with this opportunity or risk losing the support of Conservative voters.
Now about that car metaphor....it's in a ditch and the drivers can't drive it because the wheels have come off during the incredible amount of time that this whole bad comparison has been going on. Conservative Republicans are poised to swoop in and fix Obama's jalopy this Fall, at which time he may find that his broken down car is really a dead horse he's been flailing at for far too long.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Meme: Top 10 Surprising Things
Joe at Defend Us In Battle tagged me in this meme where I'm supposed to list the top 10 things I've done that surprise me. Not much surprises me about myself anymore so this may be difficult.
1. I was on a national TV show to discuss the evils of RU-486.
2. I have 6 children and would be open to having more.
3. I wear a mantilla to Mass
4. I drove a '65 Karmann Ghia from California to Corpus Christi, TX all by myself with no radio and no conversation and never got bored.
5. I have kept this blog going for almost 3 years and haven't run out of stuff to say.
6. I've been in Oklahoma for almost 16 years. (I thought this would be a temporary thing.)
7. I ran a marathon.
8. I have sons named after gun fighters.
9. I've never run for political office and don't really want to do so. ( I thought I'd be in Congress by now.)
10. I snore. Really loud. I sometimes wake myself up by snoring. I still am shocked every time the Computer Guy mentions it. How can such a delicate flower make such unattractive noises? The world may never know.
Alright, now I'm supposed to tag 5 people to play along. I tag:
Drea from The Escape
Maurisa from Half a Dozen Productions
Laura the Crazy Mama
Peace from Peace and Quiet
and
Shannon from A Friend of Gianna
1. I was on a national TV show to discuss the evils of RU-486.
2. I have 6 children and would be open to having more.
3. I wear a mantilla to Mass
4. I drove a '65 Karmann Ghia from California to Corpus Christi, TX all by myself with no radio and no conversation and never got bored.
5. I have kept this blog going for almost 3 years and haven't run out of stuff to say.
6. I've been in Oklahoma for almost 16 years. (I thought this would be a temporary thing.)
7. I ran a marathon.
8. I have sons named after gun fighters.
9. I've never run for political office and don't really want to do so. ( I thought I'd be in Congress by now.)
10. I snore. Really loud. I sometimes wake myself up by snoring. I still am shocked every time the Computer Guy mentions it. How can such a delicate flower make such unattractive noises? The world may never know.
Alright, now I'm supposed to tag 5 people to play along. I tag:
Drea from The Escape
Maurisa from Half a Dozen Productions
Laura the Crazy Mama
Peace from Peace and Quiet
and
Shannon from A Friend of Gianna
Friday, September 3, 2010
Two Days Down...Eighty-Eight To Go
The Computer Guy and I started working out together 2 nights ago. We haven't been hard core exercise people since high school, but recently I got asked to review an at home workout program so here we are.
I don't think we've laughed as hard as when the DVD guy showed us the fifth kind of push-up and asked us how many we were going to do. The loons on the TV manned up and said "30." We said "maybe two" and then proved ourselves to be optimistic when we could only do one. (In our defense, they were incredibly hard push-ups. We're not girly men here or anything like that.)
Two days and we're so sore that neither of us can move easily. It hurts to breathe and I have ab muscles which I had forgotten long ago. I'm paying for neglecting them now. I just can't tell my sweet Computer Guy. One of us has to be the tough one. He called to say "it hurts to breathe" and I started laughing but didn't tell him how much it hurts to laugh. I just used that annoying breathing you do when you're having a baby, which made me laugh harder. I had to get off the phone before he figured out how sore I am and said "Let's just forget this crazy workout thing and grab a burger." Because I could go for a burger right now, but I can't because there's a whole diet component and I promised to stick to the whole thing for the review so no burger for me.
They say that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I agree with that. This workout will either do me in, or I'll be ripped in time for Thanksgiving. Here's my review for now ( although I can't name it until I'm through the whole thing), the workout is intense. The best part of the whole thing is watching my husband try to do aerobics. The worst is push-ups (the only push up I like is in a bra). My favorite is the ab exercise I get from laughing at us and how bad we are at this. Only 88 days to go.
I don't think we've laughed as hard as when the DVD guy showed us the fifth kind of push-up and asked us how many we were going to do. The loons on the TV manned up and said "30." We said "maybe two" and then proved ourselves to be optimistic when we could only do one. (In our defense, they were incredibly hard push-ups. We're not girly men here or anything like that.)
Two days and we're so sore that neither of us can move easily. It hurts to breathe and I have ab muscles which I had forgotten long ago. I'm paying for neglecting them now. I just can't tell my sweet Computer Guy. One of us has to be the tough one. He called to say "it hurts to breathe" and I started laughing but didn't tell him how much it hurts to laugh. I just used that annoying breathing you do when you're having a baby, which made me laugh harder. I had to get off the phone before he figured out how sore I am and said "Let's just forget this crazy workout thing and grab a burger." Because I could go for a burger right now, but I can't because there's a whole diet component and I promised to stick to the whole thing for the review so no burger for me.
They say that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I agree with that. This workout will either do me in, or I'll be ripped in time for Thanksgiving. Here's my review for now ( although I can't name it until I'm through the whole thing), the workout is intense. The best part of the whole thing is watching my husband try to do aerobics. The worst is push-ups (the only push up I like is in a bra). My favorite is the ab exercise I get from laughing at us and how bad we are at this. Only 88 days to go.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Financial Stockholm Syndrome
From dictionary.reference.com
The Computer Guy and I paid off our last bill this week. 3 years of hard work and sacrifice have gotten us to the point of being debt free except for our house. Someone asked me if I got the same thrill from bargain hunting that she did from shopping. The answer is 'no.' I love to shop. I love buying new and pretty things. I hate being in debt more that I love new shoes. (Yes, even more than new shoes.) I get that same shopping thrill from closing accounts.
I have anticipated this time with the same expectation that small children have for Christmas morning. I was almost giddy with anticipation as I mailed out that last check. I held my breath waiting for it to clear, and then again waiting for the on-line statement to show a zero balance. I was so ready for the weight to lift and freedom to settle on my shoulders, to be able to breathe free.
I'm still waiting. Instead of freedom,all I feel is nervous and a slight amount of fear. I keep worrying about the possibility that I may have missed something. What have I forgotten? I made out the budget for this Friday (Pay Day) and wrote down the mortgage and utilities and panicked for a moment that there was nothing else to write. What is wrong with me? I have been trained and conditioned to think like a person who owes money. It has been my reality for the whole of my adult life. I have grown comfortable with dreading the arrival of the mailman and cringing at the ring of the phone. It may be a cage, but it is my cage and leaving it is unsettling.
For the first time in our married lives, we are not working to pay the bills on which we live. We are working to pay us. We get to save and then spend what we save without interest charges or fees. Our money is ours. It is an idea whose power I can not yet fully understand and a way of life which no one I know lives.
A few generations back, debt was something people were ashamed to admit. A mortgage was not how you bought a house, but the last ditch effort not to lose it. It was something to be avoided. At some point between then and now, the public bought into the idea that debt was a tool instead of an evil. We stopped thinking in terms of earning, saving and planning our way to the things we wanted and decided that we'd rather have them with nothing down and 26 easy payments until it was ours at twice the price (once you add in the interest.) Getting a credit card is now a rite of passage to adulthood. Taking out a mortgage has become a sign that we have managed our money well rather than that we have not. I'm not talking about throwing the baby out with the proverbial bath water, there are times when debt is necessary. I just suspect that they are far fewer than our culture thinks they are.
The Bible states is flat out "...the borrower is the slave of the lender (Proverbs 22:7)." When all of our time, effort, energy and paycheck go to pay someone else and we are broke before the pay check clears the bank, it is easy to see how true this is. The problem lies in falling in love with our servitude and finding comfort in our bondage. There is something wrong with our society when an honest days wages no longer buy anything except more time on the credit card bills.
We, as a society, need to begin digging our way out from under this mountain of payments, interest and penalties and begin to actually manage the gifts we have been given. It is only when we can do this on a personal level that we can begin to demand the same thing from our government. (It makes sense that a people in debt would create for themselves a nation in debt.)
We need to allow ourselves to see the trap of credit for what it really is and learn to stand on our own feet and breathe free.
Stockholm syndrome–noun Psychiatry an emotional attachment to a captor formed by a hostage as a result of continuous stress, dependence, and a need to cooperate for survival.
The Computer Guy and I paid off our last bill this week. 3 years of hard work and sacrifice have gotten us to the point of being debt free except for our house. Someone asked me if I got the same thrill from bargain hunting that she did from shopping. The answer is 'no.' I love to shop. I love buying new and pretty things. I hate being in debt more that I love new shoes. (Yes, even more than new shoes.) I get that same shopping thrill from closing accounts.
I have anticipated this time with the same expectation that small children have for Christmas morning. I was almost giddy with anticipation as I mailed out that last check. I held my breath waiting for it to clear, and then again waiting for the on-line statement to show a zero balance. I was so ready for the weight to lift and freedom to settle on my shoulders, to be able to breathe free.
I'm still waiting. Instead of freedom,all I feel is nervous and a slight amount of fear. I keep worrying about the possibility that I may have missed something. What have I forgotten? I made out the budget for this Friday (Pay Day) and wrote down the mortgage and utilities and panicked for a moment that there was nothing else to write. What is wrong with me? I have been trained and conditioned to think like a person who owes money. It has been my reality for the whole of my adult life. I have grown comfortable with dreading the arrival of the mailman and cringing at the ring of the phone. It may be a cage, but it is my cage and leaving it is unsettling.
For the first time in our married lives, we are not working to pay the bills on which we live. We are working to pay us. We get to save and then spend what we save without interest charges or fees. Our money is ours. It is an idea whose power I can not yet fully understand and a way of life which no one I know lives.
A few generations back, debt was something people were ashamed to admit. A mortgage was not how you bought a house, but the last ditch effort not to lose it. It was something to be avoided. At some point between then and now, the public bought into the idea that debt was a tool instead of an evil. We stopped thinking in terms of earning, saving and planning our way to the things we wanted and decided that we'd rather have them with nothing down and 26 easy payments until it was ours at twice the price (once you add in the interest.) Getting a credit card is now a rite of passage to adulthood. Taking out a mortgage has become a sign that we have managed our money well rather than that we have not. I'm not talking about throwing the baby out with the proverbial bath water, there are times when debt is necessary. I just suspect that they are far fewer than our culture thinks they are.
The Bible states is flat out "...the borrower is the slave of the lender (Proverbs 22:7)." When all of our time, effort, energy and paycheck go to pay someone else and we are broke before the pay check clears the bank, it is easy to see how true this is. The problem lies in falling in love with our servitude and finding comfort in our bondage. There is something wrong with our society when an honest days wages no longer buy anything except more time on the credit card bills.
We, as a society, need to begin digging our way out from under this mountain of payments, interest and penalties and begin to actually manage the gifts we have been given. It is only when we can do this on a personal level that we can begin to demand the same thing from our government. (It makes sense that a people in debt would create for themselves a nation in debt.)
We need to allow ourselves to see the trap of credit for what it really is and learn to stand on our own feet and breathe free.
Spiritual Bouquet
This is for all our sisters in Christ who are in the midst of their journey with infertility, loss, and adoption. Know that you have our continued support, love, and prayers.
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