Happy New Year!

So how did 2011 treat you?
I found that my year was chalk-full of just about everything:
I started school
We are planning the kids' first trip to Disney
We have enriched and developed our relationships with old friends
And we have begun to get to know new friends
Some things that have become crystal-clear to me this past year are:
I am ever-changing. This is both good and bad; exciting and frightening
Family is THE most important thing to me- and that is not limited to family related only by blood
It is Ok to have a different opinion than someone els so long as-
-the other person doesn't require you to change
-you don't lose yourself in the other person's opinion
I'm not always right
Sometimes it is better to say nothing at all
I don't have to always be the one who
-lays it all out on the table
-tries to make it right
-tries to make everyone else happy
I am not great- or even very good- at resolutions.But I am going o try to commit to the following (not just for the year, but on-going):
-I will try to better honor boundaries: money, food, time, commitments
-I will will try to be more gracious and more graceful; I will try to keep negative thoughts and opinions to myself
-I will try to always look for the positive
-I will stand behind those I love and stand up for what I believe
-I will talk to God about everything first- and quit trying to handle it all on my own!
Blessings to you all in 2012. May your year be full of love, happiness, and joy!

Parents: Just Playing It "Cool"

Image via Wikipedia"Your mom is so cool," I heard the child whisper. "I wish my mom was more like her."

My head grew about 50 times bigger. She was talking about me. I was the "cool mom" of whom she was speaking.

And then I immediately became suspicious: Had I allowed something that most moms wouldn't? Had I unwittingly contributed to the delinquency of a minor?

I reviewed the evening's events and, having found no glaring error, dipped my head back down to eavesdrop some more.

"My mom would never dance around the living room to Selena Gomez songs with me," she gushed.

I beamed, feeling much more secure in my "cool" status once again.

Then I peeked cautiously around the corner to see if my child was doing any eye-rolling to protest her friend's proclamation. Seeing none, I chuckled to myself, "I'm cool."

Being a parent gives us many opportunities to be the "bad guy," to be the one who has to say "no" because we want our child safe, to be the one who has to be the voice of reason, which is hardly ever "cool."

However, the truth is, even as parents, we want to be liked. We want to be the envy of every other parent on the block. We want our kids' friends to want to hang out at our house.

And I'm not going to lie, it felt really nice to think I was in the lead of the non-official parental popularity contest. Maybe, just maybe I was doing something right?

I wanted to pull my child aside and say, "See, I told you I was cool. I mean, I know you thought I was completely barbaric for not allowing your friend to come over until your chores were done. But look- it didn't turn out too badly, did it? After all, they think I'm cool."

But, I knew better. As all we "cool" parents know, part of the "cool" factor is pretending not to care whether we are indeed "cool" or not. And, I'm here to tell you, I've had my share of practice in that department.

For example, when I took the cell phone away from my child because she talked to me in "that" tone of voice, she made it all too clear to me that I was decidedly "uncool." And when I made the mistake of acknowledging that I knew her in a public place, she completely shrugged off my question of going with me to the grocery store by glaring at me, and through gritted teeth saying, "NOT COOL, Mom." I managed to walk away with my head held high, repeating to myself, "You are the parent. You are not the friend. You will not always be cool."

And yet, miracle of miracles, today I have been dubbed "cool" by her peer, her friend, her confidant. I feel victorious, and, dare I say it, "cool."

Of course, I realize parenting is not a popularity contest. And sometimes something "cool" from a kid's perspective is "bad" from a parent's. But who in the world doesn't like to be liked and recognized every once in a while? I'd be lying if I said I didn't.

For now, I will hold on to this whispered revelation with both hands. I'm sure that in a very short while, my "cool" title will be stripped from me, and I will be back to the Queen of "uncool."

But as I dance around to the Selena Gomez song, laughing with my daughter and her friend, I realize something else: I am having fun. Cool, uncool, or otherwise. And really, that's the most "cool" part of all...

Ooma

Image via WikipediaRecently I had the privilege of helping my grandmother, whom we call Ooma, as she had an extended stay in a residential facility while my parents were out of town. She usually lives with my parents in her own little apartment off of their house. However, while mom and dad were out of town, she decided she might like to try staying in a place where she could talk to other folks her age.

Every day she was there, she appeared to have as many, if not more, visitors than the Pope. There was a constant stream of family and friends visiting with her. And she, being the ultra-extravert that she is, delighted in every moment of her visits.

In the evenings I had the unique blessing of going to help her as she prepared for bed. At 95, she is exceptionally spry mentally. However, her osteoarthritis has given her lots of physical ailments that make her occasionally need some assistance. And even though the facility staffed people to help her, I was honored to be asked to go in to provide a familiar touch.

It is beyond amazing to imagine what she has seen and been through in the last 95 years. She has been through The Great Depression, World Wars, and too many presidents to count. And she remembers it all.

I think that is one of the things I marvel at the most. I can barely remember where I parked my car when I come out of the grocery store. She can remember making root beer with her five brothers and sisters when they were young, how she and my grandfather courted, the way my father was as a boy, and my childhood and adult years.

She is so very gracious about any little thing you do for her. I would sometimes put her toothpaste back in its holder for her since it was a bit hard for her to reach. She would thank me profusely, as though I had invented toothpaste and named it after her.

My whole family got to take part in our visits. And my brother's family did, too. We even got an "adopted" member of the family in on the fun!

She is now back home with mom and dad. I know she is much more comfortable, since there is no place quite like home. But part of me will miss spending those hours with her in the evenings, as the moon was high in the sky, listening to her tell me about her day. And then, on occasion, she would delve back into time and tell me the stories of her youth. And stories about my father as he was a boy.

I know I will see her frequently at her home with mom and dad. However, I will forever cherish that time I had with her. We talked about the way the world is, and how it was. She told me about growing up and growing old. She voiced sadness over bad times. But we also laughed- a lot. 

She is a very, very special lady. And I am so honored to call her my Ooma. And I feel blessed to have my children know her, too.

I love you, Ooma.

Love,
K
xoxoxo

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I'm Weird

Image by elana's pantry via FlickrI'm weird.

I grew up in an a-typical American family: My father and mother married, then had children. They have never divorced. I rarely see them disagree. And we liked each other.

My brother nor I did drugs or ran with the wrong crowd (Okay, that last bit could be challenged, depending on who you talk to LOL). We both made good grades and had jobs in High School. Each of us married our spouses, then had children. Each of us are gainfully employed, and have happy lives.

I also like my family, and my husband's family. I don't feel like I'm discriminated against. I don't feel like the world owes me anything, or the government is out to get me. But I'm not on any kind of medication (prescription or illegal) that makes me ingenuously happy, either. I don't have a vice that is any more egregious than diet coke. I really don't drink very often. I don't smoke.

My children don't have any disabilities (other than the fact that we are their parents LOL). They are polite, well-mannered children. They get good grades and enjoy their family.

We don't "tangle" with the law. We don't have any "Oprah-worthy" events in our lives. We would never be good material for a reality show.

We go to church and have strong beliefs. But we practice tolerance and loving our neighbors.

Basically, we are "plain vanilla" in a "thirty-one flavors" kind of society. And I personally could not be happier to be plain.

The funny thing is, while diversity is promoted in the media, and abnormality is celebrated as what is the true "norm," ours is the life people want.  Pop star calamities are glitzy and make headlines. And standing up to admit our failures and shortcomings to the world is so common, it's almost passe'.

But at the end of the day, most people would rather have had a satisfying, fulfilling day of work, and come home to a loving family and a warm home.

So, yes, I'm weird. And this Thanksgiving, I give thanks to God that He made me that way. I am happy and content... and weird.

May you all have a plain, weird Thanksgiving, too!

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It's Been Ages... But I'm Back!

Image by Getty Images via @daylife
Oh my goodness. Has it really been over a whole month since I posted last? Oh, bad Mommy Barbie!


Much has happened since the last post. Some funny; some sad.

The most exciting things:
1) Our family went on a cruise to Mexico
2) I got accepted into a Masters program at Trevecca Nazarene University and will start school to earn my teaching certification and Masters on January 8, 2011
3) The kids are all alive & well
(Not necessarily in that order)

The cruise? I was a bit nervous at first. The Carnival cruise ship that ran out of power was on the news only one day prior to ours. AND we were on Carnival, too! *Gasp*

But, it was fine & it was oh-so-much fun! I didn't have to cook or clean for five whole days! And (bonus) I got to bask in the warm sun in Mexico AND haggle over prices in their marketplace.


The teaching program is a long-time dream of mine finally coming true. It is the epitome of "In God's Time." I've been pushing this thing uphill since I graduated High School. Twenty-three years later I had all but given up. Then, *poof* God does His thing, and it's all fallen into place more beautifully than I could have ever dreamed.

The kids... Ah, well, they have declared an all-out, go-for-broke, fight-to-the-death war upon each other. Their take-no-prisoners, shoot-first-ask-questions-later approach has worn on my poor nerves.

I have even had to institute "Mommy Time Outs" so as not to take a child/all the children out to the end of the drive way and duck tape him/her/them to the mail box. They pick fights with each other for no good reason other than to fight. And I always feel like I'm in the middle of a pack of caged tigers who are prowling around trying to establish territory.


We have managed a bit of a truce on the fighting front. But it is a very tenuous truce, and needs only the smallest, assumed look to be broken. It was especially fun for the whole family on the seven hour drive down to the cruise port.

In fact, we had so much "fun" on the way down, that I gave each of the kids either Dramamine (because two of the kids actually had motion sickness on the cruise, and I wanted to ensure a comfortable trip home in the van) or night-time Nyquil (because one of the kids actually had a sinus infection and fever) to help them "rest" on the way home.

They slept like babies. And we had a fight-free ride. Hubby suggested I send in the slogan "Better vacationing through Dramamine" to the company. However, I assured him that just about every parent in the free world who ever rode in the car with kids knew the magical powers of Dramamine and Nyquil.


Tonight all of the children are sleeping soundly (with no medical/chemical assistance, I might add) while I write. Listening to the quiet house (even the animals are dozing happily) I realize why it has been so long since my last post: With hubby out of town more than he's been in town, these quiet evenings inspire relaxation and rest, rather than a burning desire to plunk around on a computer keyboard.

So, since I've (somewhat) caught up my posts for now, I'll bid you good night to continue the whole rest and relaxation gig. And I promise to post again much sooner. I wouldn't want you to miss out on the fun, crazy, silly, beautiful moments of Mommy Barbie's Adventures!


Blessings & Peace,
MommyBarbie :)

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The Mother's Curse

Image by mollypop via Flickr
I was talking with a friend of mine the other day and we were commiserating with each other over the behavior of our children (not the good behavior, though). She is a teacher, so I run many of my ideas for encouragement and discipline by her to see if they have a snowball's chance in hell in making any kind of difference.


On this particular day, her child seemed to be winning the un-official competition of "Who Can Make Their Mother Crazy First". My friend sighed. "Sometimes I think she gets paid to make me nuts."

I sympathized. "I know. There's no way they do this stuff because they think it's okay to do it. I mean, who puts a half-eaten peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich in their dirty clothes hamper for fun? I really think it's a conspiracy." Then, a thought occurred to me: "Hey, have you put 'The Mother's Curse' on her, yet?"


"What's 'The Mother's Curse'?" she asked.

I was surprised. Not only she was a mother, but she was also an educator. How could she have missed this most valuable lesson in parenting? "Oh, sister, let me tell you. It's the best thing ever. But you have to save it for the perfect time."

"Well, tell me!"she laughed.


"Okay, usually you wait for that time when your child does something so completely ridiculous that you can't imagine that they got a single gene from your side of the family, and THEN they have the nerve to look surprised when you yell at them." I hear her snort on the other end, as this is a fairly regular occurrence for both of our children. "Yeah, I know. But you have to wait until it's a BIG one.... Then, you give them "The Mother's Curse," which goes like this:

       "Honey, I must say I'm sort of amazed that you're surprised by my reaction to this. But, we'll   
        talk about that later. Right now, I just want to say," insert smile and finish sweetly, 
      "Someday I hope you have children just like you." 


"They never really know what hit them until it's much, much too late." I finish.

Hysterical peals of laughter come through my phone. "That's awesome!" my friend laughs.
Then after she interrupts her own laughter with: "Hey, wait a minute. Do you think that's what my mother did to me?"


"No, of course not," I promise her. "This all comes from our husbands' sides of the family."

We both laugh at this.

My children have all already received "The Mother's Curse." In fact, they can almost repeat it verbatim with me now.

Even though I told my friend it was our husbands' fault, I can't help but realize that I did, indeed, receive the curse as well. But that's okay. Because "The Mother's Curse" only extends to your children- not your grandchildren, as proved by my parents' relationship with my children.

So even though we're struggling through some good times and bad right now, I know that I am also rewarded by "The GrandMother's Blessing." What is "The GrandMother's Blessing," you ask?

It goes like this: "May you have more good times than bad with your children. May you hold the blessings in your heart, and may your heartaches fade with the setting sun. And, may you, after your children have moved on to the next phase of their lives, enjoy the greatest gift of all: grandchildren."


So, I wish you all "The GrandMother's Blessing," and lots of coping mechanisms, friends and laughter until you get there.


Have a great day!

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When I Grow Up...

Image by sheilapic76 via Flickr
I have been so busy lately, I've been unable to write much. But I've not had any lack of material. My muses (aka: my children) have kept me jumping around and provided so much humor and poignant moments.


Last Friday I went to pick up the kids from school, like I usually do. The minivan door slid open and my youngest stuck her face in, looking worried.

"What's wrong?" I asked.


"My friends all laughed at me."

"Why, sweetie?"


Tears welled up in her eyes and her bottom lip poked out. "They said I couldn't be Justin Bieber's co-manager. But I told them I could because I can be anything I want to be. I'm a good dancer and I know everything there is to know about Justin Bieber. But my friends said I couldn't because I was too young. But I'm not too young, am I Mommy?"


Okay. Where do you even start with that?


"Well, um, honey-"

"You don't believe me, either!" she wailed.


"I do believe you, honey. And I believe in you." I was walking on very thin ice. "How... How would Justin Bieber know you wanted to be his co-manager?"

She stopped and looked at me. The wheels were turning. "Could I write him a letter?"


"Sure."

She was completely sunny & happy again.


Of all the things she could've said, could've been upset about- a fight over having an impossible grown-up job- right now- was not anywhere near my list.


That's one of the benefits of being a child: you don't know what you can't do, so you think you can do anything. I guess I used to be that way. But it's been a long, long time.

Maybe she will never actually be the co-manager for Justin Bieber. But I have no doubt that she will be amazing at no matter what she does.


And, she has reminded me that  I need to blog. Not just to have "stuff" on there. But also, because this is a kind of journal of my kids' childhood. And this "stuff" is just way too special to forget...

Hope Over Shadows Angst

Image by cobalt123 via FlickrWhen I was in school, no matter how good things were between me and my friends, I always had this nagging doubt in the back of my mind: You are not good enough.

I had believed that it was a personal flaw that I had, miraculously, overcome in my adult years. And I wanted it to be something that never, ever touched my children.

My children are now tweens and teens themselves. And they are the age I was when my angst ran amock. And yet, they seem to be handling it okay.

From the outside in, I hold my breath when I feel they are being slighted; they simply shrug it off and move on. I haven't told them anything that my parents didn't tell me. But the defective gene that made me feel unworthy seems to have not been passed on to my kids.

I pray they and their psyches will continue to be happy and healthy. I want them to know that they are loved and valued. And I hope they are able to pass that acceptance on to their friends and peers.

One of the best things that could ever come out of me overcoming my sadness, would be the beginning of the all-together end of that sadness and angst for all children, tweens and teens.

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Those Crazy Kids

Image by megnut via FlickrWhen I was in my teen-aged years and I referred to "kids," I was referring to little tykes, who were still losing baby teeth that would be rewarded with Tooth Fairy money.

In my late twenties, I worked in elder care. Most of my clients referred to me as a "kid." I was highly insulted. I was not a "kid;" I was a young adult. I had a college education. I considered myself to be quite worldly.

Once I had children of my own, my personal definition of "kids" spanned from infant to the tween years. I didn't quite consider "teens" to be kids, because I was still smarting from being called a "kid" at twenty-seven. And, also, teens didn't seem to quite fit the bill for being a kid. "Kids" were dependent, trainable, happy-to-be-around-their-parents sorts of people. Teens were moody, cocky and mumbled a lot. In many ways, I forgot I had ever been a teenager myself.

Now, in my VERY early forties (in fact, I would say much closer to thirties, really), I realize that I was ever so naive to believe I was worldly at twenty. HA. It was like saying that because I had been to a rodeo, I was a champion bull rider.

I also have come face-to-face with all my transgressions and accomplishments as a teenager, because my children who are teens themselves have started delving into my personal history:

"Mom, when you were my age, did your mom make you clean the bathroom?" Why, yes she did.

Of course some of their questions definitely show the technological and social leaps and bounds that have occurred since I was their age.

"Mom, did your mom let you play with your iPod in bed before you went to sleep?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because we didn't have iPods."

"Seriously? What did you DO???"

"Well, I listened to my cassette tapes and read books."

"Oh, that's awful. I'm so sorry."

Certainly my definition of "kids" has changed, too. Now I DO include teenagers. In fact, I now include those younger twenties people who believe themselves (as I did) to be worldly because they have a checking account and don't live at home any more.

I am amused at myself as I see me shift from one side to the other. I was once on the side that believed anything after twenty-five was dead. Now I don't rule out anything under 100.

I am firmly in the middle of "middle aged," though I prefer to see the glass as half-full, instead of half-empty. But I'm also realistic enough to know that I am too old to wear teen aged fashions, and (thankfully) too young to qualify for AARP discounts.

I am also at an age where I appreciate being carded for drinks, having the doctor say, "you don't need to worry about that yet," and having older people lump me in with "kids." I guess it's all just perspective.

My grandmother turns ninety-five today. When I'm my parents' age, she'll be the kind of person I want to hang around every so often, just so I can be called a "kid" again.

Happy Birthday, Ooma, to the youngest ninety-five year old "kids" I've ever known!

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Dream a Little Dream

Image by oddsock via Flickr
I just finished watching "Inception" with Leonardo DiCaprio. It was... well, I'm still thinking about it, and probably will for several days.


The final ending was given up to a point, then the viewer had to decide for him/herself. I love/hate those kinds of endings. As a "glass half full" kind of girl, I picked the ending that was happier.

But my conscious has been prickling at the whole thing. Did he? Or didn't he?


The whole story line was about five stories within the story, but they are all interconnected. It's enough to make you dizzy. I was having to pay so much attention, I didn't even get to eat my popcorn. (gasp)

So now I have another "dream" movie floating around in my head. There was "Nightmare On Elm Street," which I never watched all the way through, but still freaks me out. I believe at least one of the "Matrix" implied some dreams and/or an alternate reality. "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe," "Alice in Wonderland," and many fairy tales go with the dream and/or alternate reality. And there are many, many more that I'm not even mentioning.


"Inception" was by far the most complex idea I've seen on the subject, though: Can you influence a person by going into their dreams?  This movie had a whole protocol on how it all worked. It was very thought-provoking.


You know, I think I'm influenced enough by things going on in my waking moments (advertising, movies, books, friends, the news, family, magazines, etc., etc., etc.). I really don't need anyone poking around in my head while I'm sleeping.


So what do you think? Is there any good reason to go into someone's dream to influence their life? If you could, what would you do?

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Tremendous Teens

When you become pregnant, there are a zillion resources for new parents: magazines, doctors, support groups, online chat groups, etc. And about eighty percent of the resources talk about the "heaven-sent little angel" as being the most wonderful miracle in your life. About twenty percent talk about the things that can go wrong. Less than one percent talk about the experience as being "bad" or "negative."

As the kids move from baby to toddler, toddler to child, then from child to tween, you'll find the same thing, but with the ratios of "good" to "bad" moving ever-steadily to about seventy-five/twenty-five. By the time we have tweens, the media has honed in to the fact that this group has more disposable income, so they have Hannah Montanna, the Jonas Brothers and all sorts of other Disney & Nickelodian characters and their media-driven products, at the ready. There are a few resources around for parents, but considerably less.

Then we hit the "Terrible Teen" years. Suddenly, the media can say nothing positive at all.  Headlines always include "troubled" in front of "teen." All the magazines, movies and propaganda are about Teen Sex, Teen Bullying, Teen Drug Use, Teen Cliques and Teen Suicides. And there are little to no resources available for parents that don't involve a parole officer and/or therapy.

I know that teenagers suddenly morph from this baby/child we have cared for and loved- into an alien that is unfamiliar to us. And sometimes those changes are not changes we can endorse or approve. But the teen aged years are also a time when a person begins to sort out who they are. And the years begin anywhere as early as pre-teen (like six in the case of one of my children) to way into the twenties for some.

But they are still our children. They still want our love and approval more than anything else in the world (even if they deny it). And they still need and desire rules (whether they admit to it or not).

The media would have us believe that these teens want to raise themselves with unlimited money and unlimited freedom. But that is simply not true. Rules, love and affection make us all feel safe. And if we can show teenagers how to live and love in a healthy way, they will feel secure enough to realize that drugs to make you "feel" happy don't make you really happy; They will realize that you can have healthy physical affection that doesn't involve sex; And, they will be able to be "normal."

Now, as with anything, "stuff happens." Good kids do bad things. But it just bugs me that when a teenager does a good thing it's totally unnoticed or considered completely out of character.

I'm planning to have fun with my kids as teenagers. I will treat them with respect, since that's how I would like to be treated. I will enforce rules. I will entrust them with responsibility a little at a time so that they can earn it. And if they prove irresponsible with something, I'll retract that privilege until they find a way to earn it again.

I look forward to watching them work through what they are learning, to form their own beliefs and opinions. After all, I'm raising people, not clones or robots. I plan to look at them as special people in the next phase of their lives- not "troubled teens".

Will there be bumps in the road? You betcha'. Will I eat these words? Oh, but of course. But I will also come back to these words, again and again. I don't plan on having "troubled teens"- no matter what the media and/or the world might say. I plan on having "tremendous teens"! That is one of the best gifts my parents gave me. And I believe it's definitely a gift worth passing on- no matter what the world may say to the contrary!

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